American History Tellers - Dutch Manhattan - New York | 6

Episode Date: October 9, 2019

In the years after Adrian Van der Donck won a municipal charter for New Amsterdam, and under Peter Stuyvesant's stern but capable rule, the city flourished. Even English residents of New England and Virginia sent their goods to Europe via the future New York Harbor, because the Dutch were so good at the business of shipping. Dutch features that would become part of American culture — from cookies and cole slaw to Santa Claus — became ingrained. Most importantly, the Dutch notions of tolerance, which fostered a multi-ethnic society, and free trade, became rooted in Manhattan. But in London, King Charles II and his brother, James, the Duke of York, were eager to build an empire. Their plan involved taking over slaving posts in West Africa, reorganizing their American colonies, and taking the Dutch colony, with its strategically located capital. And soon, they would send a squadron of warships to Manhattan.Support us by supporting our sponsors!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Wondery Plus subscribers can binge new seasons of American History Tellers early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Imagine it's December, 1653, and you're a resident of New Amsterdam, a little Dutch city perched at the foot of Manhattan Island. The air feels brisk, the water out in the harbor is rough and choppy, and here in town the streets are bustling. Tomorrow is the feast of St. Nicholas, and everyone is preparing. On the street, you see a friend, and stop to chat. Emmanuel, hello. All ready for the holiday? Getting there. I've just been to the baker. Got a big box of cookies. And at home, we've got

coleslaw prepared and a gigantic ham. Sinterklaas is coming to town. Well, your children must be excited. I know mine are. Happy holiday. You continue down the road, juggling your packages. Just then, a man emerges from the city tavern. He's a crier, and he starts shouting the latest news. All here, there's rumor that the war between the English and Dutch nations, currently raging abroad, will come to America. All inhabitants are to be on the alert for surprise attack from England on these shores. A crowd gathers around the crier.

You have questions. What is the West India Company doing about all this? They say five or six of the company's frigates may come to New Amsterdam to use our harbor as a base. They may decide to mount an attack on the English colonies from here. But in the meantime, we must prepare. The crier raises his voice again. All here. By order of the council, the city is to erect a high stockade along the northern perimeter.

Thomas Baxter, carpenter, has won the bid to provide the 12-foot oak logs, sharpened at the upper end. All able-bodied men are to assemble on Monday morning to fix the wall into place. This annoys you, and you can't help but speak up. We're busy now. We have work to do. It isn't right to ask us to drop everything and build a wall. Why doesn't the company get its slaves to do the work? The company slaves will be there as well, of course, but the council feels everyone needs to take a part, just as everyone helped cobble the streets. That doesn't make you happy, but you nod. Still, you have one other point to

make. Well, we'll all pitch in, but you know what's wrong with your wall, don't you? The crier, and everyone else who has gathered, looks at you. If and when the English decide to attack Manhattan, they aren't going to come traipsing down the length of the island to attack us on foot. They're going to attack from the sea. What good will your wall be then? It won't be any good to protect us. The road that runs alongside it will be more useful.

The only thing the wall will do will give that road a name. Wall Street. From the team behind American History Tellers comes a new book, The Hidden History of the White House. Each chapter will bring you inside the fierce power struggles, intimate moments, and shocking scandals that shaped our nation. From the War of 1812 to Watergate. Available now wherever you get your books. Have you ever wondered who created that bottle of sriracha that's living in your fridge? Or why nearly every house in America

has at least one game of Monopoly? Introducing The Best Idea Yet, a brand new podcast about the surprising origin stories of the products you're obsessed with listen to the best idea yet on the wonder app or wherever you get your podcasts from wondery i'm lindsey graham and this is american history tellers our history your story. As New Amsterdam grew and prospered, threats of invasion began to shape its growth, and battlements went up. Two of the rising powers of Europe, the Dutch Republic and England, were now vying over the future of the strategically located island called Manhattan. The seeds of the Big Apple were planted by the

Dutch when they founded New Amsterdam, but eventually the English arrived and gave the place a new name, one that would endure for centuries to come and become famous around the globe. This series was written by Russell Shorto and based on his best-selling book, The Island at the Center of the World. This is Episode 6, New York. By the 1650s, 30 years on from its founding, New Amsterdam had become a robust port city. It had about 1,500 inhabitants and about 250 houses. Ships sailed in and out of the harbor, carrying goods to and from the Caribbean, Europe, and the English colonies in New England and Virginia. The town was enlivened by two Dutch innovations, tolerance of religious differences and free trade. Thanks to these,

more than a dozen languages were spoken on Manhattan, and just about everyone—bakers and carpenters, farmers and tanners—was also a trader. In the decades since its founding, other small elements of Dutch culture had become ingrained in Manhattan as well. When they wanted something sweet, people didn't bake biscuits, as they did in the English colonies, but cookies, a Dutch word meaning littled cakes. Coleslaw, cabbage salad, was another Dutch innovation. And with them came a kind of annual immigrant, Sinterklaas. In ways large and small, new Amsterdammers were putting their stamp on America. But despite the growing economy, threats loomed, and the biggest threat was from England. When an Anglo-Dutch war broke out in Europe in 1652, people on Manhattan didn't pay much attention at first.

The battles took place in the Mediterranean, the North Sea, and the English Channel, far from their shores. But since the underlying issue of the conflict was money and control of one another's trade routes, it was only a matter of time before the American colonies caught the eye of the generals back home. Rumors of war arrived on Manhattan just as the first-ever city council was sitting down to business. The council was created after Adrian van der Donk, an emissary of the inhabitants of New Netherland,

visited the states-general in The Hague. One outcome of his mission was the decision by the Dutch government to grant New Amsterdam an official charter as a Dutch city. That meant, for the first time, representation for its people in the form of a city council. The council chose the most obvious place as its home, the city tavern, the liveliest spot on the island. On February 2, 1653, the city tavern became City Hall. The council then set about ordering civic improvement projects. Roads were to be paved, and to guard against an English invasion, the council ordered the construction of a wall.

The street along that wall, at the northern edge of town, became, naturally enough, Wall Street. But the English didn't come. Not then. When the war ended in 1654, Manhattan was still firmly in Dutch control. In Europe, the Dutch kept on expanding their navy and global trading empire, and in North America, the city of New Amsterdam kept growing. And as it grew, it continued to evolve in ways very different from the English. While the Puritan colonies of New England were overwhelmingly English, the Dutch colony was a polyglot jumble. But the fact that the Dutch pioneered the concept of tolerance did not mean New Amsterdam was an equal society. There were limits to Dutch tolerance. The most obvious was the institution of slavery. The West India Company slowly emerged as a

significant player in the slave trade, especially as it failed to turn a profit at other enterprises. Its overall role in the trade was relatively small, less than 5% of the estimated 12 million Africans who were forcibly hauled across the Atlantic. But it directly bought, owned, and sold slaves, and its shipment of half a million human beings from West Africa to the Caribbean islands of Coraçao and St. Eustatius and from there to the colonies in South America was a brutal and vivid violation of the principle of tolerance. North America was then only tangentially a part of that trade, but there were enslaved people in New Amsterdam. They worked the lowest, hardest,

most dangerous jobs. While some people both in the colony and in the home country decried the practice as immoral, the West India Company was committed to it. And the director of New Netherland, Peter Stuyvesant, was also in charge of Dutch operations in the Caribbean, which directly involved him in the slave trade there. His paperwork routinely mixed human beings in with other goods and services being shipped around the Atlantic.

One letter described a ship arriving in Curaçao carrying 724 pine planks, two barrels of bacon, 75 skipples of peas, and 10 Negroes, valued at 130 pieces of eight. But that wasn't the only limit to Dutch tolerance. Stuyvesant enacted a few of his own as well. Imagine it's 1654 and you're one of 23 refugees, men, women, children, arriving at the port of New Amsterdam. You are tired, desperate, and searching for a home. And the Dutch policy of tolerance gives you hope that you will find it here. But no sooner do you come ashore than you begin to suspect otherwise. A man from the town calls out to others who are gathered there. What's this? Jews? Since when are Jews allowed here?

This causes an immediate stir. Others gather. They can tell by your dress and hair that you are indeed Jewish. But you speak up. We come from the Dutch colony of Recife, on the east coast of Brazil. I'm sure you've heard that the Portuguese took over the colony earlier this year. They have ordered all Jews to leave. We managed to hire a ship to take us here. And why here? What did we do to deserve this? This is a Dutch colony. We lived under the Dutch in Brazil. We speak Dutch. I'm

speaking Dutch right now. And the Dutch are our tolerant people. The crowd is quieted by what you say, though you can tell some definitely don't like your being here. You and your fellow immigrants move in one slow group to the fort, where you present yourselves to the director of the colony. Most esteemed Director Stuyvesant, we humbly ask your permission to come unsettle in your city. We are responsible Dutch taxpayers and speakers of the language. We would live here in peace and harmony. Stuyvesant is clearly not pleased. Well, I doubt that.

Yours is a deceitful race. I have no wish to have you infect my colony with your presence and your unchristian ways. He is on the verge of dismissing you, but you speak up. Esteemed director, is it not Dutch policy to give asylum? Does not Dutch law not state that each shall remain free in his religion? Stuyvesant gives you a black look. You've forced his hand. He turns to his assistant.

Allow them to stay temporarily. I will write to Amsterdam at once, requesting permission to ban them. You turn to your companions. This is a high-stakes game you're playing, in which the lives of your family and friends are at stake. You can only hope that you've played your cards correctly. Stuyvesant admitted the Jews from Brazil into New Amsterdam temporarily, but he did everything in his power to make life difficult for them. When one of them tried to buy a piece of land in the colony, he blocked the sale, for important reasons, he said. Later, the newly arrived men tried to take turns as guardsmen. It was the responsibility of every able-bodied male to serve a period in the civic guard, which protected the city. But Stuyvesant refused to let them

fulfill their obligation. As reason, he cited, the aversion and disaffection of the militia to be fellow soldiers of the Jewish nation, and to mount guard in the same guardhouse. And despite their willingness to serve, he further decreed that they would have to financially compensate the West India Company for their protection. Each Jewish male between the ages of 16 and 60 would pay a fee to the company for the freedom of being relieved of the militia duty. When two of the newly arrived Jews objected, saying they didn't have the money to pay the tax but were happy to serve in the Guard, he rejected this. Consent is hereby given to them to depart whenever and wherever it pleases them. As pressures mounted, the Jewish leaders wrote to Amsterdam, appealing their treatment. They knew the Dutch system, and they knew they

had rights. Plus, they had friends in high places, wealthy Amsterdam Jews who had invested in the West India Company. Stuyvesant's superiors wrote back, ordering him to allow them to remain. Stuyvesant bit his tongue and issued his decree, while making clear that he was being forced. The Jewish nation, he wrote, shall enjoy such liberty here in the city as the order implies. Stuyvesant's intolerance was in line with the thinking of his time. It was difficult enough to run a colony in the wilderness. Having competing ethnicities and languages and religions among the colonists made it much harder. Stability and order were maintained by keeping everyone on the same page. At least that was his logic. It was the same logic that held sway throughout Europe.

But unfortunately for him, the one exception was his own country. The Netherlands had distinguished itself by going the other way, making tolerance a source of country. The Netherlands had distinguished itself by going the other way, making tolerance a source of strength. The Jews knew that, and so did others, such as the English Quakers, who also settled in the Dutch colony, and likewise appealed Stuyvesant's efforts to banish them. So despite Stuyvesant's prejudice, and in defiance of his judgment of how the place should be run, Dutch Manhattan became a haven of diversity. People began to compound that diversity by intermarrying across national and religious boundaries and despite language barriers. There were even instances of blacks and whites intermarrying. But this intermingling did not indicate that the concept of equality

was foremost in people's minds. White European Protestants remained the first class of residents. Catholics, considered superstitious followers of Rome, were beneath them. And Africans, Jews, and Native Americans occupied even lower ranks. Yet somehow all were part of the cultural fabric of the place, and official policies gave them rights. Manhattan was a unique place, utterly unlike Boston or anywhere in the English colonies of North America. So Peter Stuyvesant had no choice but to deal with his society's diversity. As he matured in his role as Director General of the Colony of New Netherland, he remained narrow-minded in many fundamental ways, but he also proved himself to be smart

and capable in dealing with the complexities he was faced with. One ongoing concern, dating back to his arrival in the colony in 1647, was the fact that Peter Minuit, one of his predecessors as director of the colony, had mounted an invasion of New Netherlands on behalf of Sweden. The colony of New Sweden had existed ever since on the banks of the Delaware River, 130 miles south of Manhattan, on land that the Dutch considered part of New Netherlands. Making matters worse, the Swedes had gotten the Indians in the region to trade with them rather than the Dutch. Stuyvesant never had enough manpower to deal with that impudence, but he had longed for the chance to restore his territorial integrity. In the summer of 1655, Stuyvesant's opportunity arrived. The recent war with England had ended,

and he found himself the recipient of a wondrous present. Three hundred Dutch soldiers stationed on Manhattan until they were assigned elsewhere. He mustered seven ships, loaded his military force aboard, and sailed south. Two Swedish forts guarded the Delaware River. Stuyvesant seemed to relish his return to military command. It took him back to his days in the Caribbean, where he had lost his leg, but commanded men and won respect. He employed classic military tactics,

splitting his men into five companies and sending them off in different directions to create a wedge between the two enemy forts. A messenger trotted off to one of the forts with a demand, unconditional surrender. The Swedish commander inside requested that he be allowed to communicate with his colleague in the other fort. Stuyvesant, enjoying his position, said no. Eventually, the Swedes were forced to surrender.

The enemy soldiers sailed away. As for the Swedish settlers, though, Stuyvesant had a proposition for them. His colony was short of inhabitants, thanks in large part to the conditions in the home country. It was the Dutch Golden Age, after all. Life was good in Holland. Only those at the bottom of the social ladder were interested in settling in the wilderness. But here were a group of people who had already made America their home. As it happened, most of the inhabitants of New Sweden were not Swedish, but from Finland. The Swedes, too, had difficulty finding people willing to settle in America.

They solved the problem by reaching out to a group of Finns who were used to clearing forests, offering them land and a future. Stuyvesant now made the same offer to the Finns. All they had to do was swear allegiance to a new government. They did, and yet another immigrant group became part of the Dutch colony's tapestry. As Stuyvesant sailed back home, the sun shining off the waves and the stump of his wooden leg planted firmly on the deck of the ship, he must have felt pleased with himself. The American colony he ruled was a place of constant strife and turmoil, with foes ranging from native tribes to European powers to agitators from within his own population.

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Imagine it's 1661, and you're a member of the City Council of New Amsterdam. You're standing with a little delegation on the dock in front of City Hall in Manhattan, including your leader, Peter Stuyvesant, watching as a boat rows ashore from a ship at anchor. Peter Stuyvesant looks out at the harbor. I recognize Governor Winthrop. He's the small man in front. Capital fellow. I spent a good deal of time with him in Hartford.

He's someone we can rely on. Well, you realize, of course, that these English from New England have been taking our land. Stuyvesant looks at you with irritation. I am the one who negotiated the Hartford Treaty. I very well understand the problem. But Governor Winthrop is an honest partner who can help us resolve it. Sailors tie up the boat, and a small man with a thin, dark mustache hops out. Stuyvesant steps toward him eagerly. Governor Winthrop, welcome to New Amsterdam. We are delighted to have you here. The governor of the English colony of Connecticut bows sternly and eyes each of you.

Thank you, Mr. Stuyvesant. In the name of His Majesty King Charles, I humbly accept your welcome. Stuyvesant ignores the fact that Winthrop did not refer to him by his title, Director General of the colony, but simply called him Mister. You, however, note this with alarm. But just then there's a great boom. The echoes rebound around the harbor, taking minutes to die out. Governor Winthrop practically jumps off the dock in fright. It occurs to you that he thinks he is under attack. My dear sir, I am sorry to startle you. I ordered an official salute to welcome you, a 50-gun salute, as befits one of your high rank. Governor Winthrop recovers quickly. Yes, of course, how kind.

You were going to show me around, I believe? Most of the town is visible from where you stand. It's looking prim and tidy and very Dutch, with gabled roofs and neat little gardens. Stuyvesant begins pointing out the features of New Amsterdam to the Englishman, taking pride in all of his accomplishments. You can see the wall that we have completed at the northern border, recently capped with guard towers. There stands our fort, which has been refitted with cannon,

though I confess we are short on gunpowder just now. The guns are so positioned as to be able... But you interrupt. Ah, I imagine, Director, that Governor Winthrop must be parched from his voyage. Perhaps we could step into the tavern for a tankard of good Dutch beer. Your interruption was impertinent, but necessary. You were growing concerned. Your leader was giving away military secrets.

Stuyvesant glares at you, but Winthrop smiles slyly. Your councilman's very thoughtful, Mr. Stuyvesant. I would be grateful for something to slake my thirst. After all, I will be here for more than a week. There is plenty of time for you to show me every feature of your fair city. John Winthrop, the governor of the Connecticut colony, spent a full 13 days in New Amsterdam on his visit before sailing for meetings in Europe. Some of Stuyvesant's advisors were alarmed at the way he showed off the city's defenses. After all, the Dutch had recently

been at war with the English. Settlers from the New England colonies had steadily encroached on New Netherland over the years. In fact, the colony of Connecticut itself was located on land the Dutch had originally claimed as part of their territory. But Peter Stuyvesant had a soft spot for the leaders of New England. He envied the purity of their colonies. They were fellow Protestants, and as the son of a Protestant minister, Stuyvesant believed they had to stick together. He also had good relations with John Winthrop's father, also named John Winthrop, who at the time was governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Stuyvesant's advisors, though, were right to be alarmed. In England, Winthrop unveiled a map of New Amsterdam that he had secretly drawn up. He offered it as a kind of

lure, for he went there to bargain. Great forces of change were swirling in England and her colonies. The Civil War was over, and Oliver Cromwell, the Lord Protector, who had led the overthrow of the monarchy, was dead. A Stuart king, Charles II, was back on the throne. This created complications for the New England colonies, which were founded by Puritans. The new king deeply distrusted them and the colony's leaders. But Winthrop saw opportunity in the turmoil. He had been scheming against the other New England governors. Massachusetts and Plymouth were well-established, but right next to Connecticut was the New Haven colony, and Winthrop wanted it. He wanted more, too. He was hungry for power. And that was why he had gone to New Amsterdam, and why he was now in London.

He entered into discussions with King Charles and his advisors. They knew little about the geography of North America, and the negotiations ended with him getting everything he wanted. The new royal charter gave Winthrop the land of neighboring New Haven, and his territory continued westward all the way to the Pacific Ocean. Thanks to his deft negotiating, Winthrop's colony of Connecticut suddenly extended to California. But Winthrop wasn't done there. He knew that King Charles and his brother James, the Duke of York, were now interested in the Dutch territory. As far as they were concerned, the Dutch never had proper title to it to begin with. Their claim relied on the fact that Henry Hudson had charted

the territory in 1609 on behalf of the Dutch East India Company. But the English believed their claim predated Hudson's voyage, that when their explorers landed at New England, that so-called discovery encompassed all of North America. Additionally, Hudson had been an Englishman, and surely any discoveries an Englishman makes would become the property of England. With the shifting politics, King Charles and his brother James needed to rethink their realm and the future. Charles didn't trust John Winthrop of Connecticut one bit. In granting him a vast new charter, he was merely buying time, using Winthrop as part of his next royal gambit.

England and Holland had both risen to power over the course of the 17th century. Both countries had developed mighty trade empires, but the Dutch had the jump on the English. They were ensconced in Asia, India, and West Africa. Their sales formed neat lines that crisscrossed the entire globe, bringing products and wealth to their little nation. But the English felt that wealth ought to go to England instead. In North America, the Dutch had control of the Hudson River. The English were only now realizing how important that waterway was. Both nations harbored future ambitions to exploit the rest of the North American continent, and that had to be done via water. And the Hudson River ran north through the Dutch colony, then intersected with the Mohawk River, which ran westward all the way to the Great Lakes.

This series of waterways was the future. Whoever controlled the Hudson River and Manhattan would dictate the colonization of North America. So as part of his expansive new charter, King Charles had granted Governor Winthrop a territory that extended not only westward to the Pacific, but southward from New England. Connecticut would swallow New Netherland whole. Manhattan was no longer Dutch at all, at least on English paper. So as soon as he returned to America, Governor Winthrop took steps.

Very shortly thereafter, from his office in New Amsterdam, Peter Stuyvesant heard bewildering reports. Governor Winthrop, Stuyvesant's supposedly trusted friend, was informing people who had settled on Long Island and other parts of New Netherland, who had lived there for years peacefully under Dutch rule, that they should now consider themselves subjects of the English king. Stuyvesant wrote to Winthrop. Years earlier, he had negotiated a boundary with his English king. Stuyvesant wrote to Winthrop. Years earlier,

he had negotiated a boundary with his English counterparts. Surely, he wrote, there must be some mistake. This land was Dutch. Winthrop's reply was evasive. But then came more news. Winthrop himself was suddenly appearing in some of these towns, compelling the inhabitants to switch their allegiance. Stuyvesant became enraged, calling Winthrop and the other New England leaders unrighteous, stubborn, impudent, and pertinacious. Stuyvesant wrote to his bosses in Amsterdam for advice. He suggested that it would be wisest to negotiate a new boundary. Meanwhile, he was preparing his defenses. He strengthened the walls protecting the city, but the supply of gunpowder, he said, would not last long. For the 17 years since he first arrived,

he had constantly pleaded with his superiors in Europe to provide more support to the colony. On this one point, he had been in agreement with his old nemesis, Adrian van der Donk. The home country needed to appreciate the latent promise of New Netherland, to see how the Hudson River gave access to the interior of the continent, to see that Manhattan Island, sitting in the harbor and at the mouth of the river, could become a mighty port, bringing all the world's commerce to America

and sending all of America's raw materials out to the world. As his colony grew and gave a glimmer of his future potential, Stuyvesant found himself more and more on common ground with his former antagonist. He beseeched the company leaders in Amsterdam, in terms that were more earnest than ever. We most urgently request you, he wrote, to immediately and successively provide better for us than hitherto powder, lead, grenades, and small arms for the preservation and protection of this capital. For if New Amsterdam were to succumb to the English

and the Hudson River and Manhattan Island be taken from them, he added, then all is lost to the dishonor and shame of the nation. This is the emergency broadcast system. A ballistic missile threat has been detected inbound to your area. Your phone buzzes and you look down to find this alert. What do you do next? Maybe you're at the grocery store. Or maybe you're with your secret lover.

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Incoming is a hilariously thrilling podcast that will leave you wondering, how would you spend your last few minutes on Earth? You can binge incoming exclusively and ad-free on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. For more than two centuries, the White House has been the stage

for some of the most dramatic scenes in American history. Inspired by the hit podcast, American History Tellers, Wondery and William Morrow present the new book, The Hidden History of the White House. Each chapter will bring you inside the fierce power struggles, the world-altering decisions, and shocking scandals that have shaped our nation.

You'll be there when the very foundations of the White House are laid in 1792, and you'll watch as the British burn it down in 1814. Then you'll hear the intimate conversations between FDR and Winston Churchill as they make plans to defeat Nazi forces in 1941. And you'll be in the Situation Room when President Barack Obama approves the raid to bring down the most infamous terrorist in American history. Order The Hidden History of the White House now in hardcover or digital edition, wherever you get your books. In March 1664, King Charles II of England was putting his swirling signature on a piece of paper. It was a gift. Unto our dearest brother James, Duke of York. He was thereby granting to his brother all the land in North America between the New England colonies and the Virginia colony,

tens of thousands of square miles. The gift included not just the land, but islands, soils, rivers, harbors, mines, quarries, woods, marshes, waters, and lakes, as well as fishing, hawking, hunting, and fouling therein. And there was one body of water the king made special point to include, the river called Hudson's River. Governor Winthrop must have been stunned when he read the Duke's charter, because much of it comprised land the king had previously included in his own Connecticut charter. Winthrop's beautiful dream of a continent of Connecticut was snatched away before his eyes.

Charles was playing a true power game now. He needed Winthrop, but distrusted him. Leading him along, then making a sudden, drastic change, proved deft. Even after losing most of the continent to the West as well as the Dutch territory, Winthrop would still see his colony of Connecticut enlarged considerably from what it had been. So Winthrop was quick to adjust to the new situation, and he willingly played his part in what came next. James, the king's brother, was in charge of planning the operation against the Dutch. He selected a loyal officer named Richard Nichols to head a squadron of warships. They

crossed the Atlantic. In Boston, Nichols ordered messengers to ride to the governors of the New England colonies. He needed their assistance. And when all was ready, he sailed south for Manhattan. Peter Stuyvesant was surprised. And the surprise was another death stroke on the part of the English. George Downing, the English ambassador to the Netherlands, a brilliant New Englander with a lifelong animosity toward the Dutch, had come up with the idea of forestalling Dutch efforts to defend themselves by actually alerting Stuyvesant that the squadron was coming. He explained in his letter that he was writing as a friendly gesture

merely to inform the Dutch administrator that English ships were en route, on a mission to reorganize the governments of the New England colonies. Downing didn't want his Dutch friends to think that they were an attack force. It was a ruse, of course. The ships were an attack force, and they showed up off Manhattan on a late summer's day in 1664, guns pointed and sails snapping. 450 soldiers, plus another thousand or so along the Brooklyn shore, armed with pikes and muskets. Nichols sent a letter to the fort on Manhattan. In his majesty's name, I do demand the town, situated upon the island commonly known by the name of Manhattos, with all the forts thereunto belonging, to be rendered unto his majesty's obedience and

protection into my hands. If Stuyvesant did not act promptly, Nichols warned, he would face the miseries of war. Soon a boat came ashore to Manhattan. In it was none other than John Winthrop, Stuyvesant's false friend. The Englishman urged Stuyvesant to accept his fate, but Stuyvesant refused to surrender. It was against his stubborn, aggressive nature. But the leaders of his council pleaded with him to back down. And meanwhile, the townspeople of New Amsterdam gathered in the fort, fearfully eyeing the invasion force. All knew the city did not have the manpower or arms to defeat the English.

Grisha Rainiers, Manhattan's first prostitute, now a respectable matron, was among those who wanted Stuyvesant to parley rather than fight. So was her husband, the former pirate, Anthony Van Sally. Catalina Trico was there too. She had come as one of the first Dutch settlers, but was recently grieving her husband Joris, whom she had married in Amsterdam before they left. Adrian van der Donk, the leader of the people against the West India Company and against Stuyvesant's rule, had also died nearly a decade earlier,

but his influence was still being felt. This English invasion was the moment he had feared. He had written his impassioned appeal to the States General in the Netherlands about precisely this. He had warned that the Dutch colony, and in particular the island of Manhattan, was so rich and so strategically positioned that the Dutch government needed to protect it fully, fill it with settlers, and nurture its growth. Otherwise, he said, the English would take it. It appears he was right. Stuyvesant climbed alone onto the ramparts of the fort to ponder the situation. It was windy there, always a stiff breeze in New

Amsterdam, and he had a clear view of what was arrayed against him. He had little gunpowder, and he was undermanned. but he wanted to fight. Then two men came up to join him. They were the town ministers, a father and son. They told him what he already knew, that according to the rules of war, should he mount a defense, it would allow the attackers to invade the city. Instead of a takeover, he would be overseeing pillage, rape, and murder. He would bring destruction to the people he was meant to protect. The truth of the situation was undeniable. There was nothing left to do but surrender. Stuyvesant chose six men to meet with the English. They would negotiate the

terms of surrender by which the city and the colony would transfer into English hands. But then, something truly remarkable happened, something that would alter the course of history. Imagine it's the summer of 1664. You are one of the six men Stuyvesant has chosen to work out the surrender of Manhattan. You ride north from New Amsterdam, through woods and meadows and marshland, until you come to Stuyvesant's Bowery, or farmhouse. Here you meet with your English counterparts. Among them is John Winthrop, the governor of the Connecticut colony. He introduces himself. Greetings, gentlemen. Shall we begin our discussion? Because frankly,

I think there's little to discuss. Colonel Richard Nichols, the leader of our expedition, and from now on the governor of this place, has offered very generous terms. Your people shall continue to enjoy all their lands and all their possessions. They only need swear allegiance to the King of England. Your colleague, the Reverend Megapolensis, who is leading the Dutch delegation, replies, Indeed, Governor Winthrop, you are correct. We, the people ofapolensis, who is leading the Dutch delegation, replies, Indeed, Governor Winthrop, you are correct. We, the people of the colony of New Netherland, agree to turn over to you. Sir, could we adjourn briefly to discuss something?

The Reverend stops. He seems put out to be interrupted, but he asks for an adjournment. When you are alone with the other five members of the Dutch delegation, Megapalensis confronts you. What is this? The terms are generous and everyone knows it. There's nothing more to do than sign the papers before they change their minds. No, we can get more out of them. More? We keep our property. Isn't that enough? How long have you been on Manhattan? I've been here many years. I've also been in Boston and other parts of New England. These Englishmen have traveled here in the past. They know our town. They want Manhattan for one reason above all, our success. They know we have the best port in America, the most

efficient shipping, the lowest tariffs. Yes, but what's your point? They want these things, yet they don't understand how this place functions. If we want to remain on Manhattan and to see it in ourselves continue to flourish, we have to ensure that the Dutch customs will remain. Our elections, our trade, our shipping customs, our system of inheritance. And you think they'll agree to these things? Yes, because they know our system works. They want Manhattan to succeed, and so do we. So let's ensure that it continues to. We have to convince them to set our traditions down as law under the English. They will not do that. They would be agreeing to a takeover in which the

vanquished end up as the winners and they, the conquerors, are the losers. No, we will all end up as the winners. In the end, the two teams of negotiators, the English and the Dutch, put their signatures to a document that was highly unusual for a loss of territory. It wasn't so much an agreement of surrender, but of a partnership. All people shall continue free denizens and enjoy their lands, houses, goods, ships, and dispose of them as they please, the document declared. Any people may freely come from the Netherlands and plant in this country. Dutch vessels may freely come hither. The Dutch here shall enjoy the liberty of their consciences in divine worship. All civil officers and magistrates shall continue as they now are. The town of Manhattans shall choose deputies,

and those deputies shall have free voice in all public affairs. The English knew that New Amsterdam had become a marvel of trade. They didn't understand how this robust, mixed society functioned against what seemed like common sense, but they saw that it worked. Whatever Dutch tolerance was, they wanted it to continue, and they certainly wanted Dutch trading to continue. The final agreement hashed out by negotiators left most of the Dutch elements of the city in place. And in fact, some of the early mayors of the city under the English would be Dutch. The place would be known as New York City,

drawing its name from the Duke of York, the man behind the takeover, but the unusual mixed society and free-trading sensibility remained in place. Other features remained too, little things like cookies, coleslaw, and Santa Claus. New York City became a force, a place like no other, and two centuries hence, when the great waves of immigrants came from Europe to America, they landed first in Manhattan, where they gaped in awe at this teeming city, packed with a cacophonous mix of people, all struggling to get ahead and adopt a way of life that was American. It wasn't quite America, though. Not yet. It was New York. And the reason New York became what it

did, the key to its boisterous, exuberant, overflowing, larger-than-life energy and success, what made it a model for cities everywhere, was found in its origins and in the little band of settlers who started a wilderness town called New Amsterdam. Next on American History Tellers, we conclude our series on Dutch Manhattan with a look at the lasting legacy of the Dutch in New York City. Greg Young is one half of the Bowery Boys, a popular podcast about the history of New York. Greg spent time digging through the New Netherlands archives in Albany, and he'll join us to talk about what he found and where you can still see Dutch influence in buildings, streets, and other areas in and around Manhattan.

From Wondery, this is American History Tellers. If you like American History Tellers, you can binge all episodes early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. And before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery. In a quiet suburb, a community is shattered

by the death of a beloved wife and mother. But this tragic loss of life quickly turns into something even darker. Her husband had tried to hire a hitman on the dark web to kill her. And she wasn't the only target. Because buried in the depths of the internet is The Kill List, a cache of chilling documents containing names, photos, addresses, and specific instructions for people's murders. This podcast is the true story of how I ended up in a race against time to warn those whose lives were in danger.

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