In August of 1668, Colonel Nicholls, at his own request, was recalled, and he returned to England. The Dutch did not love him, for they never could forget the circumstances under which he had conquered their province. But he had won their respect. As he embarked for the shores of England the great body of the citizens complimented him by a respectful leave-taking.

Colonel Nicholls was succeeded in the government of the province, by Colonel Francis Lovelace. He was an English officer of respectable abilities, and of worthy character. Under his sway, New York for five years, until 1673, enjoyed prosperity and peace. New agitations then took place.

The peace, of which we have spoken, between England and Holland, was of but transient duration. In 1672 war was again declared by England. The conflict which ensued was mainly upon the ocean. New York had so grown since its conquest by the English, and could so easily be reinforced by almost any number of men from populous New England, that the Dutch did not think that there was any chance of their then being able to regain the colony. They, however, fitted out a fleet of five ships, to cruise along the coast of North America, destroy the English, and inflict such injury upon any and all of the English colonies as might be in their power.

Governor Lovelace had no idea that any Dutch ships would venture through the Narrows. He made no special effort to strengthen the defences of New York. Early in February he went to Westchester county, to visit at the residence of his friend Mr. Pell. This was quite a journey in those days. The command of the fort was entrusted, during his absence to Captain John Manning.

A vessel entered the port, bringing the intelligence that a Dutch fleet had been seen off the coast of Virginia, sailing in the direction of New York. This created great commotion. A dispatch was sent, in the utmost haste, to the governor, summoning his return. He promptly mustered, for the defence, all the forces he could raise in the city and neighboring counties, and soon five hundred armed men were parading the streets of New York.

It proved a false dream. No enemy appeared. The troops were disbanded. They returned to their homes. The community was lulled into a very false sense of security. In July, the governor again was absent, on a visit to Connecticut. On the 29th of July the Dutch fleet appeared at Sandy Hook, and, learning from some of the inhabitants of Long Island, whose sympathies were still cordially with the fatherland, that the city was entirely defenceless and could easily be taken, ventured to try the experiment. They had not approached the bay with any such design. They had supposed their force entirely inadequate for so important a capture. The fleet quietly sailed up the bay and, as the English fleet had done but a few years before, anchored opposite the Battery, and turned their broadsides towards the city.

Colonel Manning sent a hurried despatch to the governor, who could by no possibility return for several days, and fluttered about in the attempt to beat up recruits. But no recruits were forthcoming. The sight of the flag of Holland, again triumphantly floating in the harbor, was joyful to many eyes.

The great majority of the people, in the city and in the country, were of Dutch descent. Consequently the recruiting parties which were raised, were in no mood to peril their lives in defence of the flag of England. Indeed it is said that one party of the recruits marched to the Battery and deliberately spiked several of the guns, opposite the City-hall.

It was a most singular revolution of the wheel of fortune. Captain Manning had but fifty soldiers within the fort. None of these were willing to fight. One-half of them were such raw recruits that captain Manning said that they had never put their heads over the ramparts. A few broadsides from the Dutch fleet would dismount every gun in the fort, and put to flight all the defenders who should survive the volley. This was alike obvious to the assailants and the assailed.



CHAPTER XV.



THE FINAL SURRENDER.



The Summons.—The Bombardment.—Disembarkation of the Land Force.—Indecision of Captain Manning.—The Surrender.—Short Administration of the Dutch.—Social Customs.—The Tea Party.—Testimony of Travellers.—Visit to Long Island.—Fruitfulness of the Country.—Exploration of Manhattan Island.

The Dutch ships, having anchored and prepared themselves for the immediate opening of the bombardment, a boat was sent on shore with a flag of truce, to demand the surrender of the city. At the same time a boat was sent by Colonel Manning, from the fort to the ships. The boats passed each other without any interchange of words. Colonel Manning's boat bore simply the message to the Dutch Admirals, "Why do you come in such a hostile manner to disturb his Majesty's subjects in this place?" As England and Holland were then engaged in open war, one would hardly think that such an inquiry was then called for. When Colonel Nicholls came to New Amsterdam with his English fleet, the two nations were in friendly alliance. Such a question then would have been very appropriate.

The boat from the Dutch fleet bore a flag of truce at its stern, and was accompanied by a trumpeter, who asked for the English officer in command and presented the following message to Colonel Manning:

"The force of war, now lying in your sight, is sent by the High and Mighty States-General and his serene Highness the Prince of Orange, for the purpose of destroying their enemies. We have sent you therefore, this letter, together with our trumpeter, to the end that, upon the sight hereof, you surrender unto us the fort called James, promising good quarter; or by your refusal we shall be obliged to proceed, both by land and water, in such manner as we shall find to be most advantageous for the High and Mighty States."

Captain Manning returned an answer simply acknowledging the receipt of the message, and informing the Dutch Admirals that he had already dispatched officers to communicate with him. He promised upon the return of those messengers to give a definite reply to his summons.

The Dutch Admirals, Benckes and Evertson, were not disposed to waste any time in parleying. They probably remembered the circumstances under which the province of New Netherland had been wrested from them by its present possessors, and they rejoiced that the hour of retribution had thus unexpectedly come.

They therefore sent back word that their batteries were loaded and shotted and ready to open fire; that one half hour and one half hour only, would be granted for deliberation; that immediately upon the arrival of the boat at the fort the half hour glass would be turned up; and that if, when its last sands fell, the white flag of surrender were not raised upon the fort, the bombardment would be commenced.

The last sands fell and no white flag appeared. Instantly the thunder of a cannon echoed over the bay, and a storm of iron hail came crashing upon the frail fort, killing and wounding a number of men. Volley after volley succeeded without any intermission. Captain Manning made no attempt to return the fire. He and his powerless garrison hurried to places of safety, leaving the ramparts to be ploughed up and the barracks to be battered down without any resistance.

While this cannonade was going on, the Dutch Admirals manned their boats with a land force of six hundred men, and they were disembarked upon the shore of the island without encountering any foe. The little band of English soldiers was powerless, and the Dutch inhabitants were much more disposed to welcome their countrymen as deliverers than to oppose them as enemies. These Dutch troops were armed with hand grenades and such other weapons as were deemed necessary to take the place by storm. Rapidly they marched through the fields to the Common, now called the Park. It was, as we have mentioned, nearly a mile north from the fort.

Here they formed in column to march upon the town, under their leader, Captain Colve. The English commander, Captain Manning, sent three of his subordinate officers, without any definite message, to Captain Colve, to talk over the question of a capitulation. It would seem that Captain Manning was quite incompetent for the post he occupied. He was bewildered and knew not what to do. As his envoys had no proposals to make, two of them were detained and held under the Dutch standard, while the third, Captain Carr, was sent back to inform the English commander that if in one quarter of an hour the place were not surrendered, it would be taken by storm. In the meantime the troops were put upon the march.

Captain Carr, aware of the indecision of Captain Manning and of the personal peril he, as an Englishman, would encounter, with six hundred Dutch soldiers sweeping the streets, burning with the desire to avenge past wrongs, did not venture back into the town with his report, but fled into the interior of the island. The troops pressed on to the head of Broadway, where a trumpeter was sent forward to receive the answer to the summons which it was supposed had been made. He speedily returned, saying that the commander of the fort had, as yet, obtained no answer from the commissioners he had sent to receive from the Dutch commander his propositions.

Captain Colve supposed that he was trifled with. Indignantly he exclaimed "They are not to play the fool with us in this way, forward march." With the beat of drums and trumpet peals and waving banners his solid columns marched down the Broadway road to the little cluster of about three hundred houses, at the extreme southern point of the island. An army of six hundred men at that time and place presented a very imposing and terrible military array. In front of his troops the two commissioners who had been detained, were marched under guard.

As they approached the fort, Captain Manning sent another flag of truce to the Dutch commander, with the statement that he was ready to surrender the fort with all its arms and ammunition, if the officers and soldiers were permitted to march out with their private property and to the music of their band. These terms were acceded to. The English troops, with no triumphal strains, vacated the fort. The Dutch banners soon waved from the ramparts, cheered by the acclaim of the conquerors.

Captain Manning was, in his turn, as severely censured by the people of the English colonies in America, and by the home government, as Governor Stuyvesant had been on the day of his misfortune. English pride was grievously mortified, that the commandant of an English fort should allow himself to be fired upon for hours without returning a shot.

The unfortunate captain was subsequently tried by court-martial for cowardice and treachery. He was condemned. His sword was broken over his head and he was declared incompetent forever to hold any station of trust or authority under the government. Governor Lovelace was condemned for neglect of duty. He received a severe reprimand, and all his property was confiscated to the Duke of York.

The victorious Dutch commanders appointed Captain Colve as governor of recaptured New Netherland. With great energy he commenced his rule. The name of New York was changed to New Orange, and fort James became fort Hendrick. Work was immediately commenced upon the fortifications, and large sums of money were expended upon them, so that within two months they were deemed so strong that it was thought that no English fleet would dare to venture within range of their guns. The whole city assumed the aspect of a military post. Nearly every citizen was trained to arms. The Common, now the Park, was the parade ground where the troops were daily drilled. It was very firmly resolved that the city should not again surrender without the firing of a gun.

The municipal institutions were all re-organized to conform to those of the fatherland. This second administration of the Dutch was of but short duration. On the 9th of January, 1674, but about three months after the re-capture of the city, a treaty of peace was signed between England and Holland. The sixth article of this treaty read as follows,

"Whatsoever countries, islands, ports, towns, castles or forts have been taken on both sides, since the time that the late unhappy war broke out, either in Europe or elsewhere, shall be restored to the former lord or proprietor in the same condition they shall be in when peace itself shall be proclaimed."

Several months however transpired before the actual re-surrender of the city to the English. On the 10th of November 1674, a little more than one year after the capture of the city by the Dutch, this change took place. Mr. David V. Valentine writes:

"This event was not distasteful to the great body of the citizens, whose national sentiment had, in a measure, given way before the obvious advantages to their individual interests of having a settled authority established over them, with the additional privilege of English institutions which were then considered of a liberal tendency."

In conclusion, we have but a few words to say respecting the manners and customs in the thriving little village of New York, in these primitive days. People were then, to say the least, as happy as they are now. Food was abundant, and New York was far-famed for its cordial hospitality. Days of recreation were more abundant than now. The principal social festivals were "quilting," "apple paring" and "husking." Birthdays, christenings, and marriage anniversaries were also celebrated with much festivity. Upon most of these occasions there was abundant feasting. Dancing was the favorite amusement, with which the evening was almost invariably terminated. In this busy community the repose of the night was necessary to prepare for the labors of the ensuing day. The ringing of the nine o'clock bell was the signal for all to retire.

A mild form of negro slavery existed in those days. The slaves danced to the music of their rude instruments in the markets. The young men and maidens often met on the Bowling green and danced around the May pole. Turkey shooting was a favorite amusement, which usually took place on the Common. New Year's Day was devoted to the interchange of visits. Every door was thrown open, and all guests were welcome, friends as well as strangers, as at a Presidential levee. This custom of olden time has passed down to us from our worthy Dutch predecessors. Dinner parties were unknown. But tea-parties, with the ladies, were very common.

"To take tea out," writes Mr. William L. Stone, in his interesting History of New York,

"was a Dutch institution, and one of great importance. The matrons, arrayed in their best petticoats and linsey jackets, home-spun by their own wheels, would proceed on the intended afternoon visit. They wore capacious pockets, with scissors, pin-cushion and keys hanging from their girdle, outside of their dress; and reaching the neighbor's house the visitors industriously used knitting needles and tongues at the same time. The village gossip was talked over; neighbors' affairs settled, and the stockings finished by tea-time, when the important meal appeared on the table, precisely at six o'clock.

"This was always the occasion for the display of the family plate, with the Lilliputian cups, of rare old family china, out of which the guests sipped the fragrant herb. A large lump of loaf sugar invariably accompanied each cup, on a little plate, and the delightful beverage was sweetened by an occasional nibble, amid the more solid articles of waffles and Dutch doughnuts. The pleasant visit finished, the visitors donning cloaks and hoods, as bonnets were unknown, proceeded homeward in time for milking and other necessary household duties.

"The kitchen fire-places were of immense size large enough to roast a whole sheep. The hooks and trammels sustained large iron pots and kettles. In the spacious chimney-corners the children and negroes gathered, telling stories and cracking nuts by the blazing pine-knots, while the industrious vrows turned the merry spinning-wheel, and their lords, the worthy burghers, mayhap just returned from an Indian scrimmage, quietly smoked their long pipes, as they sat watching the wreaths curling above their heads. At length the clock with its brazen tongue having proclaimed the hour of nine, family prayers were said, and all retired, to rise with the dawn."

In the summer of 1679, but five years after the final accession of New Netherland by the English, two gentlemen from Holland, as the committee of a religious sect, visited the Hudson river, to report respecting the condition of the country, and to select a suitable place for the establishment of a colony. They kept a minute journal of their daily adventures. From their narrative one can obtain a very vivid picture of New York life two hundred years ago.

On Saturday, the 23d day of September, they landed at New York, and found it a very strange place. A fellow passenger, whose name was Gerritt, and who was on his return from Europe, resided in New York. He took the travellers to the house of one of his friends, where they were regaled with very luscious peaches, and apples far better than any they had seen in Holland. They took a walk out into the fields and were surprised to see how profusely the orchards wore laden with fruit. They took up lodgings with the father-in-law of their fellow-traveller, and in the evening were regaled with rich milk. The next day was Sunday.

"We walked awhile," they write,

"in the pure mountain air, along the margin of the clear running water of the sea, which is driven up this river at every tide. We went to church and found truly there a wild worldly people. I say wild, not only because the people are wild, as they call it in Europe, but because most all the people who go there, partake somewhat of the nature of the country; that is peculiar to the land where they live."

The preacher did not please them. "He used such strange gestures and language," writes one of them, "that I think I never in my life heard anything more miserable. As it is not strange in these countries, to have men as ministers, who drink, we could imagine nothing else than that he had been drinking a little this morning. His text was Come unto me all ye, etc.; but he was so rough that the roughest and most godless of our sailors were astonished.

"The church being in the fort, we had an opportunity to look through the latter, as we had come too early for preaching. The fort is built upon the point formed by the two rivers, namely the East river, which is the water running between the Manhattans and Long Island, and the North river, which runs straight up to fort Orange. In front of the fort there is a small island called Nut Island. Around the point of this vessels must sail in going out or in, whereby they are compelled to pass close by the point of the fort, where they can be flanked by several of the batteries. It has only one gate and that is on the land side, opening upon a broad lane or street, called the Broadway."

They went to church again in the afternoon. "After preaching," they write,

"the good old people with whom we lodged, who, indeed if they were not the best on all the Manhattan, were at least among the best, especially the wife, begged we would go with their son Gerrit, to one of their daughters who lived in a delightful place and kept a tavern, where we would be able to taste the beer of New Netherland. So we went, for the purpose of seeing what was to be seen. But when we arrived there we were much deceived. On account of its being, to some extent, a pleasant spot, it was resorted to on Sundays by all sorts of revellers and was a low pothouse. It being repugnant to our feelings to be there, we walked into the orchard, to seek pleasure in contemplating the innocent objects of nature. A great storm of rain coming up in the evening, we retraced our steps in the dark, exploring our way through a salt meadow, and over water upon the trunk of a tree."

On Thursday the 26th, our two travellers, at two o'clock in the afternoon, crossed East river to visit Long Island. The fare in the ferry-boat, which was rowed across, was three stivers, less than half a cent of our money, for each person. They climbed the hill and walked along through an open road and a little woods to "the first village, called Breukelen, which has a small and ugly little church in the middle of the road." The island was then mostly inhabited by Indians. There were several flourishing farms in the vicinity of Brooklyn, which they visited and where they were bountifully regaled with milk, cider, fruit, tobacco and "first and most of all, miserable rum, brought from Barbadoes, and which is called by the Dutch kill devil."

The peach orchards were breaking down beneath the burden of luscious fruit. They often could not step without trampling upon the peaches, and yet the trees were full as they could bear. Though the swine were fattened upon them, still large numbers perished upon the ground. In the evening they went on to a place called Gouanes, where they were very hospitably entertained. It was a chill evening, and they found a brilliant fire of hickory wood crackling upon the hearth.

"There had already been thrown upon it," they write,

"a pail full of Gouanes oysters, which are the best in the country. They are large, some of them not less than a foot long, and they grow, sometimes ten, twelve and sixteen together, and are then like a piece of rock. We had for supper a roasted haunch of venison which weighed thirty pounds, and which he had bought of the Indians for fifteen cents. The meat was exceedingly tender and good and quite fat. We were served also with wild turkey, which was also fat and of a good flavor, and a wild goose. Everything we had was the natural production of the country. We saw lying in a heap, a hill of watermelons as large as pumpkins. It was late at night when we went to rest, in a Kermis bed, as it is called, in the corner of the hearth, alongside of a good fire."

"The next morning they threaded their way through the forest, and along the shore to the extreme west end of the island, where fort Hamilton now stands. They passed through a large plantation, of the Najack Indians, which was waving with corn. A noise of pounding drew them to a place where a very aged Indian woman was beating beans out of the pods with a stick, which she did with amazing dexterity. Near by was the little cluster of houses of the dwindling tribe. The village consisted of seven or eight huts, occupied by between twenty and thirty Indians, men, women and children.

"These huts were about sixty feet long and fifteen wide. The floor was of earth. The posts were large limbs of trees, planted firmly in the ground. The sides were of reeds and the bark of trees. An open space, about six inches wide, ran along the whole length of the roof, for the passage of smoke. On the sides the roof was so low that a man could not stand under it.

"They build their fire in the middle of the floor, according to the number of families which live in the hut; not only the families themselves, but each Indian alone, according as he is hungry, at all hours morning, noon and night. They lie upon mats with their feet towards the fire. All in one house, are generally of one stock, as father and mother, with their offspring. Their bread is maize, pounded by a stone, which is mixed with water and baked under the hot ashes.

"They gave us a small piece when we entered; and although the grains were not ripe, and it was half-baked and coarse grains, we nevertheless had to eat it, or at least not throw it away before them, which they would have regarded as a great sin, or a great affront. We chewed a little of it with long teeth, and managed to hide it so that they did not see it.

"On Wednesday a farmer harnessed his horse to a wagon and carried them back to the city. The road led through the forest and over very rough and stony hills, making the ride quite uncomfortable. Passing again through the little village of Breukelen, they crossed the ferry and reached home about noon. On Friday they took an exploring tour through the island of Manhattan. Their pleasant description is worth transcribing.

"This island is about seven hours distance in length, but it is not a full hour broad. The sides are indented with bays, coves and creeks. It is almost entirely taken up, that is the land is held by private owners, but not half of it is cultivated. Much of it is good woodland. The west end, on which the city lies, is entirely cleared, for more than an hour's distance, though that is the poorest ground; the best being on the east and north side. There are many brooks of fresh water running through it, pleasant and proper for man and beast to drink; as well as agreeable to behold, affording cool and pleasant resting places, but especially suitable places for the construction of mills, for though there is no overflow of water, it can be used.

"A little east of New Harlaem, there are two ridges of very high rocks, with a considerable space between them, displaying themselves very majestically, and inviting all men to acknowledge in them the grandeur, power and glory of the Creator, who has impressed such marks upon them. Between them runs the road to Spuyt den Duyvel. The one to the north is the most apparent. The south ridge is covered with earth on its north side, but it can be seen from the water or from the mainland beyond to the south. The soil between these ridges is very good, though a little hilly and stony. It would be very suitable, in my opinion, for planting vineyards, in consequence of its being shut off on both sides, from the winds which would most injure them; and it is very warm. We found blue grapes along the road, which were very good and sweet, and as good as any I have tasted in the fatherland.

"We went from the city, following the Broadway, over the valley or the fresh water. Upon both sides of this way there were many habitations of negroes, mulattoes and whites. The negroes were formerly the slaves of the West India Company. But, in consequence of the frequent changes and conquests of the country, they have obtained their freedom, and settled themselves down where they thought proper, and thus on this road, where they have grown enough to live on with their families. We left the village called Bowery on the right hand, and went through the woods to Harlaem, a tolerably large village situated directly opposite the place where the northeast creek and the East river come together. It is about three hours' journey from New Amsterdam."

From the account which these gentlemen give, the morals of the people certainly do not appear to have been essentially better than now. They passed the night at the house of the sheriff. "This house was constantly filled with people all the time drinking, for the most part, that execrable rum. He had also the best cider we have tasted. Among the crowd we found a person of quality, an Englishman, named Captain Carteret, whose father is in great favor with the king. The king has given his father, Sir George Carteret, the entire government of the lands west of the North river in New Netherland, with power to appoint as governor whom he pleases.

"This son is a very profligate person. He married a merchant's daughter here, and has so lived with his wife that her father has been compelled to take her home again. He runs about among the farmers and stays where he can find most to drink, and sleeps in barns on the straw. If he conducted himself properly, he could be, not only governor here, but hold higher positions, for he has studied the moralities and seems to have been of a good understanding. But that is all now drowned. His father, who will not acknowledge him as his son, allows him yearly as much only as is necessary for him to live on."

Saturday morning they set out from Harlaem village to go to the northern extremity of the island.

"Before we left we did not omit supplying ourselves with peaches, which grew in an orchard along the road. The whole ground was covered with them and with apples lying upon the new grain with which the orchard was planted. The peaches were the most delicious we had yet eaten. We proceeded on our way and when we were not far from the point of Spuyt den Duyvel, we could see on our left the rocky cliffs of the mainland, and on the other side of the North river these cliffs standing straight up and down, with the grain just as if they were antimony.

"We crossed over the Spuyt den Duyvel in a canoe, and paid nine stivers fare for us three, which was very dear.[12] We followed the opposite side of the land and came to the house of one Valentyn. He had gone to the city; but his wife was so much rejoiced to see Hollanders that she hardly knew what to do for us. She set before us what she had. We left after breakfasting there. Her son showed us the way, and we came to a road entirely covered with peaches. We asked a boy why he let them lie there and why he did not let the hogs eat them. He answered 'We do not know what to do with them; there are so many. The hogs are satiated with them and will not eat any more.'

"We pursued our way now a small distance, through the woods and over the hills, then back again along the shore to a point where an English man lived, who was standing ready to cross over. He carried us over with him and refused to take any pay for our passage, offering us at the same time, some of his rum, a liquor which is everywhere. We were now again at Harlaem, and dined with the sheriff, at whose house we had slept the night before. It was now two o'clock. Leaving there, we crossed over the island, which takes about three-quarters of an hour to do, and came to the North river. We continued along the shore to the city, where we arrived in the evening, much fatigued, having walked this day about forty miles."

The rather singular record for the next day, which was Sunday, was as follows:

"We went at noon to-day to hear the English minister, whose service took place after the Dutch service was out. There were not above twenty-five or thirty people in the church. The first thing that occurred was the reading of all their prayers and ceremonies out of the prayer-book, as is done in all Episcopal churches. A young man then went into the pulpit, and commenced preaching, who thought he was performing wonders. But he had a little book in his hand, out of which he read his sermon which was about quarter of an hour or half an hour long. With this the services were concluded; at which we could not be sufficiently astonished."

Though New York had passed over to British rule, still for very many years the inhabitants remained Dutch in their manners, customs and modes of thought. There was a small stream, emptying into the East river nearly opposite Blackwell's Island. This stream was crossed by a bridge which was called Kissing Bridge. It was a favorite drive, for an old Dutch custom entitled every gentleman to salute his lady with a kiss as he crossed.

The town wind-mill stood on a bluff within the present Battery. Pearl street at that time formed the river bank. Both Water street and South street have been reclaimed from the river. The city wall consisted of a row of palisades, with an embankment nine feet high. Upon the bastions of this rampart several cannon were mounted.



CHAPTER XVI.



THE OLDEN TIME.



Wealth and Rank of the Ancient Families.—Their Vast Landed Estates.—Distinctions in Dress.—Veneration for the Patroon.—Kip's Mansion.—Days of the Revolution.—Mr. John Adams' Journal.—Negro Slavery.—Consequences of the System.—General Panic.



Many of the families who came from the Old World to the Hudson when New Netherland was under the Dutch regime, brought with them the tokens of their former rank and affluence. Valuable paintings adorned their walls. Rich plate glittered upon their dining table. Obsequious servants, who had been accustomed in feudal Europe to regard their masters as almost beings of a superior order, still looked up to them in the same reverential service. The social distinctions of the old country very soon began to prevail in the thriving village of New York. The governor was fond of show and was fully aware of its influence upon the popular mind. His residence became the seat of quite a genteel little court.

"The country was parcelled out," writes Rev. Bishop Kip,

"among great proprietors. We can trace them from the city of New Amsterdam to the northern part of the State. In what is now the thickly populated city were the lands of the Stuyvesants, originally the Bouwerie of the old governor. Next above were the grant to the Kip family, called Kip's Bay, made in 1638. In the centre of the island was the possessions of the De Lanceys. Opposite, on Long Island, was the grant of the Laurence family. We cross over Harlaem river and reach Morrisania, given to the Morris family. Beyond this on the East river, was De Lancey's farm, another grant to that powerful family; while on the Hudson to the west, was the lower Van Courtland manor, and the Phillipse manor. Above, at Peekskill, was the upper manor of the Van Courtlands. Then came the manor of Kipsburg, purchased by the Kip family from the Indians in 1636, and made a royal grant by governor Dongan two years afterwards.

"Still higher up was the Van Rensselaer manor, twenty-four miles by forty-eight; and above that the possession of the Schuylers. Farther west, on the Mohawk, were the broad lands of Sir William Johnson, created a baronet for his services in the old French and Indian wars, who lived in a rude magnificence at Johnson Hall."

The very names of places in some cases show their history. Such for instance, is that of Yonkers. The word Younker, in the languages of northern Europe, means the nobly born, the gentleman. In Westchester, on the Hudson river, still stands the old manor house of the Phillipse family. The writer remembers in his early days when visiting there, the large rooms and richly ornamented ceilings, with quaint old formal gardens about the house. When before the revolution, Mr. Phillipse lived there, lord of all he surveyed, he was always spoken of by his tenantry as the Yonker, the gentleman, par excellence. In fact he was the only person of social rank in that part of the country. In this way the town, which subsequently grew up about the old manor house, took the name of Yonkers.

The early settlement of New England was very different in its character. Nearly all the emigrants were small farmers, upon social equality, cultivating the fields with their own hands. Governors Carver and Bradford worked as diligently with hoe and plough as did any of their associates. They were simply first among equals.

"The only exception to this," writes Mr. Kip,

"which we can remember was the case of the Gardiners of Maine. Their wide lands were confiscated for their loyalty. But on account of some informality, after the Revolution, they managed to recover their property and are still seated at Gardiner."

For more than a century these distinguished families in New Netherland retained their supremacy undisputed. They filled all the posts of honor and emolument. The distinctions in society were plainly marked by the dress. The costume of the gentleman was very rich. His coat of glossy velvet was lined with gold lace. His flowing sleeves and ruffled cuffs gave grace to all the movements of his arms and hands. Immense wigs adorned his brow with almost the dignity of Olympian Jove. A glittering rapier, with its embossed and jewelled scabbard, hung by his side.

The common people in New Netherland, would no more think of assuming the dress of a gentleman or lady, than with us, a merchant or mechanic would think of decorating himself in the dress of a Major-General in the United States army. There was an impassable gulf between the peasantry and the aristocracy. The laborers on these large Dutch estates were generally poor peasants, who had been brought over by the landed proprietors, passage free. They were thus virtually for a number of years, slaves of the patroon, serving him until, by their labor, they had paid for their passage money. In the language of the day they were called Redemptioners. Often the term of service of a man, who had come over with his family, amounted to seven years.

"This system," writes Mr. Kip,

"was carried out to an extent of which most persons are ignorant. On the Van Rensselaer manor, there were at one time, several thousand tenants, and their gathering was like that of the Scottish clans. When a member of the family died they came down to Albany to do honor at the funeral, and many were the hogsheads of good ale which were broached for them. They looked up to the Patroon with a reverence which was still lingering in the writer's early day, notwithstanding the inroads of democracy. And before the Revolution this feeling was shared by the whole country. When it was announced, in New York, a century ago, that the Patroon was coming down from Albany by land, the day he was expected to reach the city, crowds turned out to see him enter in his coach and four."

The aristocratic Dutchmen cherished a great contempt for the democratic Puritans of New England. One of the distinguished members of a colonial family in New York, who died in the year 1740, inserted the following clause in his will:

"It is my wish that my son may have the best education that is to be had in England or America. But my express will and directions are, that he never be sent for that purpose, to the Connecticut colonies, lest he should imbibe in his youth, that low craft and cunning, so incidental to the people of that country, which is so interwoven in their constitutions, that all their acts cannot disguise it from the world; though many of them, under the sanctified garb of religion, have endeavored to impose themselves on the world as honest men."

Usually once in a year the residents in their imposing manorial homes repaired, from their rural retreats, to New York to make their annual purchases. After the country passed into the hands of the English, several men of high families came over. These all held themselves quite aloof from the masses of the people. And there was no more disposition among the commonalty to claim equality with these high-born men and dames, than there was in England for the humble farmers to deny any social distinction between themselves and the occupants of the battlemented castles which overshadowed the peasant's lowly cot.

Lord Cornbury was of the blood royal. The dress and etiquette of courts prevailed in his spacious saloons. "About many of their old country houses," writes Mr. Kip,

"were associations gathered often coming down from the first settlement of the country, giving them an interest which can never invest the new residences of those whom later times elevated through wealth. Such was the Van Courtland manor-house, with its wainscotted room and guest chamber; the Rensselaer manor-house, where of old had been entertained Talleyrand, and the exiled princes from Europe; the Schuyler house, so near the Saratoga battle-field, and marked by memories of that glorious event in the life of its owner; and the residence of the Livingstons, on the banks of the Hudson, of which Louis Philippe expressed such grateful recollections when, after his elevation to the throne, he met, in Paris, the son of his former host."

At Kip's Bay there was a large mansion which for two centuries attracted the admiration of beholders. It was a large double house with the addition of a wing. From the spacious hall, turning to the left, you entered the large dining-saloon. The two front windows gave you a view of the beautiful bay. The two rear windows opened upon a pleasant rural landscape. In this dining-room a large dinner party was held, in honor of Andre the day before he set out upon his fatal excursion to West Point. In Sargent's, "Life of Andre," we find a very interesting description of this mansion, and of the scenes witnessed there in olden time.

"Where now in New York is the unalluring and crowded neighborhood of Second avenue and Thirty-fifth street, stood, in 1780, the ancient Bowerie or country seat of Jacobus Kip. Built in 1655, of bricks brought from Holland, encompassed by pleasant trees and in easy view of the sparkling waters of Kip's Bay, on the East river, the mansion remained, even to our own times, in the possession of one of its founder's line.

"When Washington was in the neighborhood, Kip's house had been his quarters. When Howe crossed from Long Island on Sunday, September 15th, 1776, he debarked at the rocky point hard by, and his skirmishers drove our people from their position behind the dwelling. Since then it had known many guests. Howe, Clinton, Kniphausen, Percy were sheltered by its roof. The aged owner, with his wife and daughter, remained. But they had always an officer of distinction quartered with them. And if a part of the family were in arms for Congress, as is alleged, it is certain that others were active for the Crown.

"Samuel Kip, of Kipsburg, led a cavalry troop of his own tenantry, with great gallantry, in De Lancey's regiment. And despite severe wounds, survived long after the war, a heavy pecuniary sufferer by the cause which, with most of the landed gentry of New York, he had espoused.

"In 1780, it was held by Colonel Williams, of the 80th royal regiment. And here, on the evening of the 19th of September, he gave a dinner to Sir Henry Clinton and his staff, as a parting compliment to Andre. The aged owner of the house was present; and when the Revolution was over he described the scene and the incidents of that dinner. At the table Sir Henry Clinton announced the departure of Andre next morning, on a secret and most important expedition, and added, 'Plain John Andre will come back Sir John Andre.'

"How brilliant soever the company," Mr. Sargent adds,

"how cheerful the repast, its memory must ever have been fraught with sadness to both host and guests. It was the last occasion of Andre's meeting his comrades in life. Four short days gone, the hands, then clasped by friendship, were fettered by hostile bonds. Yet nine days more and the darling of the army, the youthful hero of the hour, had dangled from a gibbet."

For two hundred and twelve years this mansion of venerable memories remained. Then it was swept away by the resistless tide of an advancing population. The thronged pavements of Thirty-fifth street now pass over the spot, where two centuries ago the most illustrious men crowded the banqueting hall, and where youth and beauty met in the dance and song. In view of these ravages of time, well may we exclaim in the impressive words of Burke, "What shadows we are and what shadows we pursue."

In the year 1774, John Adams rode from Boston to Philadelphia on horseback, to attend the first meeting of Congress. His journal contains an interesting account of this long and fatiguing tour. Coming from the puritanic simplicity of Boston, he was evidently deeply impressed with the style and splendor which met his eye in New York. In glowing terms he alludes to the elegance of their mode of living, to the architectural grandeur of their country seats; to the splendor of Broadway, and to the magnificent new church they were building, which was to cost one hundred thousand dollars.

The aristocratic families of New York were generally in favor of the Crown. They were not disposed to pay any special attention to a delegate to the democratic Congress. He had therefore no opportunity of witnessing the splendor of these ancient families. Two lawyers who had become wealthy by their professional labors, received him with honor. At their breakfast tables he beheld display, common enough in almost every genteel household at the present day, but to which he was quite unaccustomed in his frugal home at Quincy. One cannot but be amused in reading the following description of one of his entertainments:

"A more elegant breakfast I never saw; rich plate; a very large silver coffee pot; a very large silver tea pot; napkins of the very finest materials; toast and bread and butter in great perfection. After breakfast a plate of beautiful peaches, another of pears and a muskmelon were placed on the table."

The Revolution proved the utter ruin of these great landed proprietors, who naturally espoused the cause of the British court. The habits of life to which they and their fathers had been accustomed necessarily rendered all the levelling doctrines of the Revolution offensive to them. They rallied around the royal banners and went down with them.

Some few of the landed proprietors espoused the cause of the people. Among others may be mentioned the Livingstons and the Schuylers, the Jays, the Laurences, and a portion of the Van Courtlands, and of the Morris family. Fortunately for the Patroon Van Rensselaer, he was a minor, and thus escaped the peril of attaching himself to either party.

Negro slavery in a mild form prevailed in these early years in New York. The cruel and accursed system had been early introduced into the colony. Most of the slaves were domestic servants, very few being employed in the fields. They were treated with personal kindness. Still they were bondmen, deprived of liberty, of fair wages, and of any chance of rising in the world. Such men cannot, by any possibility, be contented with their lot. Mr. William L. Stone, in his very interesting History of New York, writes:

"As far back as 1628, slaves constituted a portion of the population of New Amsterdam; and to such an extent had the traffic in them reached that, in 1709, a slave market was erected at the foot of Wall street, where all negroes who were to be hired or sold, stood in readiness for bidders. Their introduction into the colony was hastened by the colonial establishment of the Dutch in Brazil and upon the coast of Guinea, and also by the capture of Spanish and Portuguese prizes with Africans on board.

"Several outbreaks had already happened among the negroes of New Amsterdam; and the whites lived in constant anticipation of trouble and danger from them. Rumors of an intended insurrection real or imaginary, would circulate, as in the negro plot of 1712, and the whole city be thrown into a state of alarm. Whether there was any real danger on these occasions, cannot now be known. But the result was always the same. The slaves always suffered, many dying by the fagot or the gallows."

In the year 1741, a terrible panic agitated the whole city in apprehension of an insurrection of the slaves. The most cruel laws had been passed to hold them firmly in bondage. The city then contained ten thousand inhabitants, two thousand of whom were slaves. If three of these, "black seed of Cain," were found together, they were liable to be punished by forty lashes on the bare back. The same punishment was inflicted upon a slave found walking with a club, outside of his master's grounds without a permit. Two justices could inflict any punishment, except amputation or death, upon any slave who should make an assault upon a Christian or a Jew.

A calaboose or jail for slaves stood on the Park Common. Many of the leading merchants in New York were engaged in the slave trade. Several fires had taken place, which led to the suspicion that the slaves had formed a plot to burn the city and massacre the inhabitants. The panic was such that the community seemed bereft of reason. A poor, weak, half-crazed servant-girl, Mary Burton, in a sailor's boarding house, testified, after much importunity, that she had overheard some negroes conferring respecting setting the town on fire.

At first she confined her accusations to the blacks. Then she began to criminate white people, bringing charges against her landlord, his wife and other white persons in the household. In a History of this strange affair written at the time, by Daniel Horsmanden, one of the Justices of the Supreme Court, we read,

"The whole summer was spent in the prosecutions. A coincidence of slight circumstances was magnified, by the general terror, into violent presumptions. Tales collected without doors, mingling with the proofs given at the bar, poisoned the minds of the jurors, and this sanguinary spirit of the day suffered no check until Mary, the capital informer, bewildered by the frequent examinations and suggestions, began to touch characters which malice itself dare not suspect."

During this period of almost insane excitement, thirteen negroes were burned at the stake, eighteen were hanged, and seventy transported.

I cannot conclude this treatise upon the olden time better than by quoting the eloquent words of Mr. Kip:

"The dress, which had for generations been the sign and symbol of a gentleman, gradually waned away, till society reached that charming state of equality in which it became impossible, by any outward costume, to distinguish masters from servants. John Jay says, in one of his letters, that with small clothes and buckles the high tone of society departed. In the writer's early day this system of the past was just going out. Wigs and powder and queues, breeches and buckles, still lingered among the older gentlemen, vestiges of an age which was vanishing away.

"But the high toned feeling of the last century was still in the ascendant, and had not yet succumbed to the worship of mammon, which characterizes this age. There was still in New York a reverence for the colonial families, and the prominent political men, like Duane, Clinton, Golden, Radcliff, Hoffman and Livingston, were generally gentlemen, both by birth and social standing. The time had not yet come when this was to be an objection to an individual in a political career. The leaders were men whose names were historical in the State, and they influenced society. The old families still formed an association among themselves, and intermarried, one generation after another. Society was therefore very restricted. The writer remembers in his childhood, when he went out with his father for his afternoon drive, he knew every carriage they met on the avenues.

"The gentlemen of that day knew each other well, for they had grown up together and their associations in the past were the same. Yet, what friendships for after-life did these associations form! There was, in those days, none of the show and glitter of modern times. But there was, with many of these families, particularly with those who had retained their landed estates and were still living in their old family homes, an elegance which has never been rivalled in other parts of the country. In his early days the writer has been much at the South, has staid at Mount Vernon when it was held by the Washingtons; with Lord Fairfax's family, at Ashgrove and Vancluse; but he has never elsewhere seen such elegance of living as was formerly exhibited by the old families of New York.

"One thing is certain, that there was a high tone prevailing at that time, which is now nowhere to be seen. The community then looked up to public men, with a degree of reverence which has never been felt by those who have succeeded them. They were the last of a race which does not now exist. With them died the stateliness of colonial times. Wealth came in and created a social distinction which took the place of family; and thus society became vulgarized.

"The influences of the past are fast vanishing away, and our children will look only to the shadowy future. The very rule by which we estimate individuals has been entirely altered. The inquiry once was, 'Who is he?' Men now ask the question, 'How much is he worth?' Have we gained by the change?"



THE END.

NOTES:

[Footnote 1: Winslow in Young (p. 371).]

[Footnote 2: Bradford in Prince, 248.]

[Footnote 3: Dutch miles, equal to sixteen English miles.]

[Footnote 4: Morton's memorial, page 176.]

[Footnote 5: Hist. of New York, by John Romeyn Brodhead. Vol. I, p 257.]

[Footnote 6: History of the State of New York, p. 203.]

[Footnote 7: History of the State of New York, By John Romeyn Brodhead Vol I. p. 473.]

[Footnote 8: John Romeyn Brodhead, Vol. 1. p. 521. E.B. O'Callaghan. M D Vol 2. p. 157.]

[Footnote 9: "History of New Netherland" by E.B. O'Callaghan, Vol 2. p. 317]

[Footnote 10: Officers of a very important municipal court.]

[Footnote 11: See Brodhead's State of New York, vol. 1. p. 721; also O'Callaghan's New Netherland, vol 2. p. 489.]

[Footnote 12: This was one cent and a half for the three, or half a cent each.]

THE END