The Government of New Netherland: Van Dyck and Long Island
When Stuyvesant returned to Manhattan, he found the wildest confusion there. Van Dyck, a former civil officer, detected a squaw stealing peaches from his garden, and killed her. The fury of her tribe was kindled. The long peace with the savages for ten years was suddenly broken. Before day-break one morning almost two thousand of the River Indians appeared before New Amsterdam in sixty canoes, landed, distributed themselves through the town, and under pretence of looking for Northern Indians, they broke into several dwellings in search of Van Dyck. A council of the inhabitants was immediately held at the fort, and the sachems of the invaders were summoned before them. The Indian leaders agreed to leave the city and pass over to Nutten (now The Governor's) Island before sunset. They broke their promise, and in the evening they shot Van Dyck and menaced others. The people flew to arms and drove the savages to their canoes. The Indians crossed the Hudson, and ravaged New Jersey and Staten Island. Within three days a hundred inhabitants were killed, one hundred and fifty were made captives, and the estates of three hundred were utterly desolated by the dusky foe. Stuyvesant returned at the height of the excitement, and soon brought order out of confusion. Yet distant settlements were broken up, the inhabitants, in fear, flying to Manhattan for safety. To prevent a like calamity in the future, the governor issued a proclamation ordering all who lived in secluded places in the country to gather themselves into villages "after the fashion of our New England neighbors."
Excepting difficulties between the governor and the citizens, growing out of his arbitrary rule. New Netherland prospered in quiet for almost ten years after the Indian invasions, when a crisis in its political affairs approached. The people were generally industrious, and happy homes abounded. In them were many uncultured minds but affectionate hearts, and life was enjoyed in a dreamy, quiet blissfulness, unknown in these bustling days. The city people arose at dawn, dined at eleven o'clock, and went to bed at sunset in the summer. Fashionable parties began at three o'clock in the afternoon in winter and ended at six, so that all the members of a family might be ready for evening devotions and bed at seven. Very little attention was paid to political questions by the "commonalty" or the mass of the people; but there were many wide-awake men and women who were restive under the sharp administration of Stuyvesant. Some declared that they would be willing to endure English rule for the sake of enjoying English liberty. They very soon had an opportunity to try both.
Charles the Second assigned to his brother James, Duke of York, the whole territory of New Netherland, with Long Island and a part of Connecticut. Charles had no more right to that domain than the Prince of Darkness had to the "kingdoms of the world" which he offered to the Redeemer if he would worship the Evil One. But the brutal argument that "might makes right" justified the royal brothers, in their own estimation, in sending ships, men and cannon, the "last argument of kings," to take possession of and hold the territory. Four ships-of-war, bearing four hundred and fifty soldiers commanded by Colonel Richard Nicolls, a court favorite, arrived before New Amsterdam at near the close of August, 1664. Stuyvesant had been warned of their approach, and tried to strengthen the fort; but money, men, and will were wanting. English influence and the governor's temper had alienated the people, and they were indifferent. Some of them regarded the invaders as welcome friends. Stuyvesant began to make concessions to the popular wishes. It was too late; and New Amsterdam became an easy prey to English conquerors--freebooters in the eye of justice.
Revolutionary movements had taken place among the English on Long Island, early in this year, which the governor could not suppress, and the province was rent by internal discord for several months. A war with the Indians above the Hudson highlands had also given the governor much trouble, but his energy and wisdom had brought it to a close. The anthems of a thanksgiving day had died away, and the governor, assured of peace, had gone to Fort Orange (Albany), when news reached him of the coming English armament. He hastened back to his capital, and on Saturday, the 30th day of August, Nicolls sent to the governor a formal summons to surrender the fort and city. He also sent a proclamation to the citizens, promising perfect security of person and property to all who should quietly submit to English rule.
Stuyvesant assembled his council and the burghers or magistrates, at the fort, to consider public affairs. They favored submission without resistance. The governor, true to his superiors and to his own convictions of duty, would not listen to such a proposition, nor allow the inhabitants to see the proclamation. The Sabbath passed without any answer to the summons. It was a day of great excitement and anxiety in New Amsterdam, and the people became impatient. On Monday the magistrates explained to them the situation of affairs, and they demanded a sight of the proclamation. It was refused; and they were on the verge of open insurrection, when a new turn in events took place.