American History Tellers - Dutch Manhattan - The One-Legged Soldier | 5

Episode Date: October 2, 2019

Peter Stuyvesant was fresh from losing a leg in battle against the Spanish when he arrived in Manhattan in 1647. He was a tough soldier who was ready to take charge of the unruly population of New Amsterdam. He soon clashed with Adrian Van der Donck, the leader of the opposition, who was secretly crafting a formal legal complaint that would compel the Dutch government to give the colony a form of representative government. When Stuyvesant discovered that Van der Donck had been spearheading an effort to overthrow his rule, he had him arrested for treason. But after a public faceoff revealed the Dutch government had come down on the side of colonists, Van der Donck was released. He returned to Europe and traveled to The Hague, where he argued that the Dutch government should take over the colony from the West India Company. At first, the Dutch government supported Van der Donck’s cause. It granted New Amsterdam a charter, giving the colony official status as a Dutch city, and ordered Stuyvesant's recall. But then order was abruptly rescinded. Oliver Cromwell’s English government was declaring war on the Dutch republic.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 March 1644. You're a military officer in the hire of the Dutch West India Company, hiking along the beach on the Caribbean island of St. Martin. The punishing heat and humidity of the tropics are weighing on you and your fellow soldiers, making every step heavier than the last. Still, you catch up to your commander.

Sir, the fort should be just around this bend. All right. Now we know the Spaniards have largely abandoned it, but be on guard just in case. And within a few steps, the fort you were supposed to attack comes into view. Suddenly, a great thundering blast signals the start of a barrage from the fort's guns. You hear shrieks as some of the men around you are hit. Sir, rally the men into formation. Clearly we were given bad information. Into formation! Formation! The assault gets worse. Cannonballs

rain down, hitting the sand with terrible reverberating thud. Bullets zing past your ear. You are all completely exposed. You shout orders to the men under you to pull back, preparing for the expected signal for a formal retreat. Still, the musket balls come raining down. You rush back to your commander. Sir, do we pull back? Your commander turns to you, and you're shocked by the wild, fierce look in his eyes. On my signal, charge forward. You're bewildered, and you feel you have the right to say something. You're a veteran soldier, but this is his first command. In fact, until now, he had a desk job. He was a rising star in the West India Company,

climbing the corporate ladder. Maybe he feels compelled to show his bravery, but experience dictates that a tactical retreat is an order. But sir, the enemy have the fort entirely secure and we're exposed on the beach. We need to regroup. Your commander practically lunges at you. Damn it, man. The Spanish have lorded over the Dutch provinces for more than a hundred years, and now their empire is vulnerable.

We have them. If we get this island, we go for the next, and soon we'll have control of the entire Caribbean. Our orders are to take St. Martin, and we will take it. Prepare the men to charge. At that, he grabs the Dutch flag and rushes forward. He's ahead of everyone else, about to plant the flag in the sand. Then a stone cannonball hits him squarely in the leg, shattering it instantly. Flesh and bone fly into the air. He falls to the sand, then turns to you. You see the same fierce fire in his eyes. And just

before he passes out, despite the continued onslaught, he shouts a violent order. Onward, attack! With Audible, there's more to imagine when you listen. Whether you listen to stories, motivation, expert advice, any genre you love, you can be inspired to imagine new worlds, new possibilities, new ways of thinking. And Audible makes it easy to be inspired and entertained as a part of your everyday routine without needing to set aside extra time. As an Audible member, you choose one title a month to keep from their ever-growing catalog. Explore themes of friendship, loss, and hope with remarkably bright creatures by Shelby Van Pelt.

Find what piques your imagination. Sign up for a free 30-day Audible trial, and your first audiobook is free. Visit audible.ca to sign up. I'm Sachi Cole. And I'm Sarah Hagee, and we're the hosts of Scamfluencers, a weekly podcast from Wondery that takes you along the twists and turns of the most infamous scams of all time, the impact on victims, and what's left once the facade falls away. Follow Scamfluencers on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story. The beach attack on St. Martin was just one of hundreds of military engagements in the Dutch War of Independence against Spain.

But for the young, brave West India Company officer, it would change everything. Peter Stuyvesant was desperate to prove himself a leader, to show his fearlessness and sense of duty. By losing a leg in the tropics, he risked infection and death, but he clung to life, and as his wound healed and his loyalty and fierceness remained unchecked, his superiors eventually tapped him for another command, one that would bring him north to the new settlement on the shores of Manhattan. We're in the fifth episode of our series about the founding of the Dutch colony on the island of Manhattan. The series is written by Russell Shorto and based on his best-selling book, The Island at the Center of the World, and gives an answer to the question, how did New York become New York? This is episode five, The One-Legged Soldier.

When Henry Hudson set out on his 1609 voyage in search of a short route to Asia, he had never heard of an island called Manhattan. Hudson, an Englishman traveling for the Dutch, was not interested in founding a colony in North America. He believed there was a strait running through the North American continent which connected the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific. He sailed up the East Coast until he came to the future Hudson River. Since it was a tidal estuary and thus salty, he believed he had found the Strait. But instead of reaching Asia, all he did was chart much of the East Coast before returning to Europe in failure.

But his mission wasn't a total loss. America was a largely unknown continent to Europeans. While most still kept their focus on Asia, also known as the East Indies, where the Dutch had amassed a fortune, Hudson's journey gave some people in the Dutch Republic an idea. What if they looked at America not as an obstacle between them and Asia, but as a worthwhile endeavor in itself? By the 1640s, the Dutch were in the midst of what would be an 80-year war of independence against the Spanish Empire. Spain had made much of its wealth from colonizing South America and the Caribbean, but now Spain was weakening, and the Dutch were growing

stronger by the day. Much of their strength was due to the wealth generated by their East India Company, and the Dutch had similar hopes when founding the West India Company, with a mission to both fight the Spanish and the Americas and exploit those regions. Its North America colony called New Netherland had its capital of New Amsterdam at the southern tip of Manhattan Island. It was sandwiched between the English colonies of Virginia to the south and New England to the north, but the colony was still prospering. The Dutch colony developed very differently from the English ones, thanks largely to two notions the Dutch pioneered. Religious tolerance helped spawn a mixed society in the home country, which carried over to the colony.

By the early 1640s, 18 different languages flourished in the few rough streets that made up New Amsterdam. The Dutch at the time also created the first features of what would be called capitalism. The corporation, shares of stock, a stock market, an unprecedented approach to free trade. New Amsterdam was becoming a vigorous center of trade. Then in 1643, life came to a crashing halt. The director of the colony, Willem Keeft, launched military attacks on nearby Indian villages, creating chaos with the native population and turning the people of New Amsterdam against him. With the population in an uproar, the leaders of the West India Company determined to find a new leader of the colony, and they did. Peter Stuyvesant attracted their attention with

his bravery in the Battle of the Island of St. Martin, but there were concerns as he had lost his leg in the battle. When he came stumping into the headquarters of the West India Company in Amsterdam, though, sporting a wooden leg and without any apparent loss of the indomitable energy he had exhibited, they felt they had their man. When Stuyvesant was rowed ashore at New Amsterdam, a new era began. He was all business. Previously, Keeft had conducted official business only one day a week, on Thursdays. Stuyvesant worked six days a week. He cracked down on lawlessness in town. Innkeepers were barred from selling alcohol on Sundays. If you pulled a knife on someone, Stuyvesant decreed, you'll be sentenced to six months in jail on bread and water. He also turned his attention to his neighbors to the north.

The English Civil War resulted in waves of religious refugees streaming across the Atlantic from England to the colonies of New England. As the population there swelled, many eyed the wide-open spaces of the Dutch colony to their south. The Puritan leaders knew the Dutch didn't have the manpower to fully defend their territory, so English settlers began streaming from Connecticut across Long Island Sound onto Long Island itself, establishing settlements in open defiance of Dutch land claims. Stuyvesant began a series of exchanges with the governors of the New England colonies about the issues, and he discovered that, despite the fact that the English and the Dutch nations were bitter rivals, he rather liked them. Tolerance may have been an official policy of his country,

but he himself was the son of a stern Calvinist minister. He didn't care for diversity. The New England colonies were pure, he told their governors, whereas he complained his was comprised of what he called the scrapings of all nations. But while he was developing cordial relations with the English leaders, Stuyvesant quickly locked horns with his own people. It had been almost four years since Keeft, his predecessor, had declared war on local Indian tribes, which had brought ruin and destruction to the settlement.

Stuyvesant had carried with him to Manhattan the letter that the colonists had sent to Europe, requesting Keefe's recall. In that time, homes had been rebuilt and life and trade were returning to normal. But Stuyvesant didn't let the matter rest. He felt to do so would send the wrong signal. So he told the townspeople he wanted to hold a formal review of Keefe's war. The men behind the appeal to the West India Company to remove Keeft,

Cornelius Maline, Joachim Kauter, and Adrian van der Donk, greeted this news with delight. Van der Donk had studied law at Leiden University in the Dutch Republic. He had done his studies at a time of awakening, when the principles of law were changing and the concept of human rights was coming into being. The situation in New Amsterdam, in which people felt their lives and livelihoods were being jeopardized by an unjust ruler, must have seemed like a real-world case study, a chance to apply natural law, the idea that there is a fixed moral basis that determines human rights. So Justice Syveson believed he had to make a point in investigating the issue. So too did Vanderdonk and his co-leaders of the resistance. But their point was just the

opposite. Two worldviews, two views about the future of the colony were about to clash. Imagine you're a West India Company soldier on Manhattan. Three years ago, you took part in the attacks on Indian villages ordered by Willem Keeft when he was director of the colony. You still have nightmares about it. Now you're in the fort at New Amsterdam, where Peter Stuyvesant has called a hearing to look into the matter. You're on the witness stand, and Adrian Vanderdaan, the lawyer representing the people of the colony, is questioning you.

Sir, do you recall the late director, Willem Keeft, sending soldiers to kill Indians on the night of February 24th, 1643? Yes. Were men, women, and children murdered in their sleep during these attacks? You squeeze your eyes shut at the memory of that awful night. Yes. Did we not live in peace with these Indians before this cruel deed? Yes.

Were the Indians embittered by this act? Yes. Did it start a war between us and them? Yes. Angrily rising to his feet, Peter Stuyvesant, the new director of the colony, is clearly fed up by this line of questioning, and he erupts at Vanderdonk. This is an outrage. I ordered this hearing not to have the company's decisions questioned, colony, is clearly fed up by this line of questioning, and he erupts at Vanderdonk. This is an outrage. I ordered this hearing not to have the company's decisions questioned,

but to punish the inexcusably treasonous behavior of the colonists. Stuyvesant then turns to you. Tell me, was it ever heard in any place that subjects should be allowed to question and examine the conduct of their superiors? You don't want to say anything. This is not a matter for you to speak to. But everyone is staring. No, I suppose not. Stuyvesant goes on. Would such behavior not lead to even worse behavior? You don't like to be in this position, but he's asked you a direct question. I guess so. If such behavior were tolerated, would it not lead the subjects to assume even greater authority, even to take power, if the administration did not suit their whims?

Stuyvesant is no longer addressing you. He's furious and talking to everyone assembled in the room. He turns to face Vanderdonk, but you decide to answer anyway. I don't think it would lead to that, sir. Stuyvesant furiously turns back to you. I mean, it might. But sir, I believe the Dutch system allows for people to register complaints. Does it not?

There's a pause. Then a roar of approval from the crowd of townspeople. You glance back at Stuyvesant, who now looks even angrier. Stuyvesant knew that Joachim Kauter and Cornelis Malign were leaders of this upstart opposition group. But as he asserted his authority, he had to consider that Vanderdonk was likely a leader as well. Vanderdonk and Stuyvesant were a study in contrasts. While Vanderdonk had trained in the law, in humanism, and in the rights of individuals, Stuyvesant was a company man, an orthodox Calvinist, a soldier who respected authority without question. Over the next few years, as the whole mixed community looked on, Dutch, English, Germans,

Scandinavians, and Africans, both slave and free, a battle was building over the fate of the colony. It was shaping up to be a struggle about legal and moral issues. But for most in New Amsterdam, it was something much more tangible, a battle over their very lives and futures. How did Birkenstocks go from a German cobbler's passion project 250 years ago to the Barbie movie today? Who created that bottle of red Sriracha with a green top that's permanently living in your fridge? Did you know that the Air Jordans were initially banned by the NBA? We'll explore all that and more in The Best Idea Yet, a brand new podcast from Wondery and T-Boys.

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Willem Keeft may have been dismissed as director of the colony, but he remained on Manhattan. In fact, Stuyvesant made him a member of his governing council, and he found a way to make use of his predecessor, whom he almost certainly despised. Now that Stuyvesant saw how dangerous the rebellion against the company's authority was, he got Keeft to write a formal complaint against the townspeople who had asked for his dismissal. He wanted them to be prosecuted. Keefe prepared to take his complaint to Europe on the next available ship. If Stuyvesant's plan worked, the company's rule would prevail, the leaders of the rebellion would be thrown in prison, and everyone else in the colony would have learned a lesson

about respecting authority. It was a gambit aimed directly at the leaders of the opposition. But far from backing down, in the face of this challenge, van der Donk only became more emboldened. Imagine you are a farm woman and merchant living in New Amsterdam. There's a knock at your door, and when you open it, you see Vanderdonk looking furtive. Excuse me, ma'am. Would you mind answering a few questions? Mr. Vanderdonk, why are you whispering? Stuyvesant is going to send Keefe to Europe

to have us imprisoned for questioning the company's decisions. We have a right as Dutch citizens, as human beings, to make sure our government is acting in our interests. Will you give me your views of the company? You welcome Van der Donk in and pour him a beer, asking him to sit. Thank you. Now, you've been in New Netherland from the very beginning. Has the company treated you fairly? I can't say I had reason for complaint in the early years. We were upriver at first, farming. Life was hard, but it was good. Then we got shifted to New Amsterdam and became town folk. Things got lively and more prosperous. Until Keefe attacked the Indians. I still don't understand

why he did that. We came here to trade with them. We need them. And so many people died. It practically ruined us. Hmm. Well, thank you for your time and the beer. This helps me. I plan to present a formal complaint to Director Stuyvesant and send another copy to Europe. He stands to leave, but you stop him. Mr. Vander Dong, just a thought. Stuyvesant knows Malign and Cauter as the leaders of the opposition, but I've noticed that even though you've questioned that soldier in a manner that Stuyvesant thought was insubordinate, he likes you. Well, that's probably because of his wife. She and I are from the same town. So maybe he doesn't fully associate you with the opposition. Maybe you can make use of that. What do you mean? Let others be the public face of the opposition.

You, you get in his good graces. May come in handy. Vandredonck changed his tactics and began making a public show of assisting Stuyvesant. In secret, though, he continued to craft a formal legal complaint against the West India Company. His idea was that this would encourage the Dutch government to take management of the colony away from the company and make it an actual Dutch province. That would ensure the colonists' human rights were protected, and it would make the colony more secure. Manhattan under the Dutch, with its mixed population and its free-trading ways, would continue.

Van der Donk's letter of complaint went into graphic detail, saying that Keefe's soldiers had slaughtered area tribespeople, and that as a result of the tribe's counterattack, New Amsterdam was reduced to Just as he had been taught at law school, Van der Donk then quoted ancient Greek and Roman writers on the question of what people could do when a rule was unjust. Having concluded that this was potentially a landmark case, one that would shape the law of the future, he built to a dramatic crescendo. The matter didn't just relate to the Dutch,

but was applicable everywhere. He wrote, Let us see what the law of nations thinks of it. Vanderdonk decided it would be wisest to keep his identity as author of the letter hidden. It was sent to Stuyvesant, and the brash head of the colony replied with scorn at the idea of ordinary people questioning their leaders. In response, Stuyvesant quoted the Bible, Thou shalt not revile the gods, nor curse the ruler of thy people. It was a true battle of ideas. On one side, an authoritarian perspective on the relationship between subjects and ruler,

and on the other, a theory of law based on human rights. After receiving the letter, Stuyvesant was full of righteous indignation. He declared that to act as Malign and Counter had done was mutiny, and therefore they should face capital punishment. When Malign said he would appeal Stuyvesant's harsh verdict, Stuyvesant shot back, people may think of appealing during my time, but should anyone do so, I would have him made a foot shorter, pack the pieces off to Holland, and let him appeal that way. Later, though, Stuyvesant cooled down.

Maybe he feared that chopping off the heads of the two popular leaders might bring all the colonists into open rebellion. Or just as bad, it might cause a mass exodus. It would be humiliating to assume the leadership of a colony only to see it emptied. So instead of executing them, he changed his verdict and ordered the two men banished from New Netherland. On August 16, 1647, the ship Princess Amelia sailed away from New Amsterdam. On board was Willem Kieft. He was going to appeal his removal from office, and on behalf of Stuyvesant, to claim that the colonists who had accused him of wrongdoing were the ones who deserved punishment.

But also on board was Couter and Malign, Keefe's sworn enemies, the very men who had put their names down as the leaders of the opposition to Keefe's rule. They were returning to Holland to appeal Stuyvesant's ruling against them, asking to be allowed to return to America, where they had farms, had built families, and lived their lives. Vanderdonk, meanwhile, managed to keep himself removed from the center of opposition. Stuyvesant knew he had been involved with the lion encounter, but Vanderdonk kept his identity as author of the formal complaint hidden, and once the ship had left, he made every effort

to ingratiate himself with Stuyvesant. He became an advisor to the director and assisted him in important matters. At one point, a new head of the Patroonship of Rensselaerwyck was chosen. This colony within the colony had been started by one of the directors of the West India Company. It existed within New Netherland, but Kieft had let it govern itself. That didn't sit well with Stuyvesant, though. So when the new leader of Rensselaer Wick arrived and declared that he alone had authority within the patroonship, Stuyvesant boarded a ship and rode 150 miles north to face him, bringing Vanderdonk along with him. The young man was not only a lawyer, he had originally served as sheriff of Rensselaer Wick,

so he knew the place and its administration well. With Vanderdonk's aid, Stuyvesant succeeded in establishing his authority over the other man. And in assisting Stuyvesant, Vanderdonk encouraged the director to see him as an ally, and Stuyvesant did. He leaned on Vanderdonk more and more as he was settling in his job of running the colony. Stuyvesant was, in many ways, a very capable administrator, and he took his work seriously. He wanted the public to support him, so he appointed a new council of nine men to help him govern. When it came time to replace some of the councillors, Stuyvesant chose Vanderdonk for one of the positions. Upon his appointment, the other councillors named Vanderdonk their leader.

President of the Commonality was the title they gave him. Van der Donk's stealth campaign was now complete and the stage was set for a face-off. Syvesant and Van der Donk were the two most powerful men in the colony. Then incredible news reached Manhattan. The Princess Amelia had sunk off the coast of Wales before reaching the Dutch Republic. Most of those aboard, including Willem Keeft, died. Even more incredibly, Van der Donk's two allies, Malign and Couter, survived and then made their way to the Hague. There, they presented the case of the inhabitants of New Netherland. Meanwhile on Manhattan, Van der Donk continued working like a deft politician. Since it was his goal to get governance of the colony out of the

hands of the company and into the hands of the people, he devoted time to learning how the company ran its business. The hub of commercial activity on Manhattan was the City Tavern, which was located at the dock where small boats rowed newcomers ashore from ships anchored in the harbor. Van der Donk met here with traders newly arrived from Europe. He learned what mattered to them, what affected the price of beavers and tobacco from the colony, of salt from the Caribbean, and of manufactured goods from Europe. He calculated that the colony was now processing 80,000 beavers a year,

and he was acutely aware of events in England, where the Civil War was affecting trade on Manhattan, giving the Dutch new opportunities. Then van der Donk took a step toward his ultimate goal. He penned another formal document, a petition on behalf of the nine members of the council, the nine men, as they began calling themselves. The petition informed Stuyvesant of a decision they had reached. They did not, in fact, serve him anymore, but rather the people of the colony. Stuyvesant was undoubtedly the West India Company's man, but from now on, they were the people's council.

Stuyvesant barely had time to react when another shock arrived. Rowing ashore was Cornelis Malign, one of the leaders of the opposition who had recently survived the shipwreck in Wales. And as soon as he stepped on the docks of New Amsterdam, he gave his news. The States General, the governing body of the Dutch Republic, had listened to him and his colleague. They concluded in a formal document that Keefe's war against the Indians was, in their words, contrary to all public law, and that it had resulted in atrocities that must startle the Christian heart. Further, the Prince of Orange himself, the aristocratic ruler of the army,

who was in many people's eyes the personification of the Dutch nation, penned a letter to Stuyvesant. You will receive by the bearers hereof the commands which the high and mighty lords of the States General have resolved to communicate to you, that you allow these people to enjoy their property free and unmolested. Stuyvesant's rule banishing the two men had been countermanded by the highest authority. The people had voiced their objection to their ruler, and they were vindicated. There was rejoicing in the streets of New Amsterdam that night. But in the fort, the director of the colony, far from giving in, was preparing to fight back. I'm Tristan Redmond, and as a journalist, I've never believed in ghosts.

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and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Now that the Dutch government had signaled that it was inclined to side with the colonists, Adrian van der Donk decided it was time to reveal his role in the opposition. He met with Stuyvesant and informed him that the nine men intended to send its own representative to the States General in The Hague. For Stuyvesant, such a step would directly undermine his leadership. He reacted with rage.

Van der Donk later said that the director referred to him and the others as rebels and that hanging was too good for them. But Van der Donk and his colleagues were undeterred and conducted a house-to-house survey asking every resident of New Amsterdam for their complaints about the company. The intention was to put as much detail as possible into a petition to the Dutch government that would ask them to take control of the colony away from the West India Company. New Amsterdam was a tiny place. All 16 of its streets were grouped around the fort,

which was the center of government. Stuyvesant, of course, noticed what was going on. He ordered soldiers to go to the home where Vanderdonk rented a room. The soldiers broke in, found the dossier of notes from the house-to-house canvassing, and gave it to Stuyvesant, who erupted. He ordered Vanderdonk arrested and jailed, and accused him of high treason against the sovereign. Stuyvesant then announced a public meeting at the church, which everyone in town was expected to attend.

There he planned to read out his indictment of Vanderdonk and the other conspirators. But before he could, the nine men sprung a surprise. One of them stood up to read out the official decree of the states general, in which the governing body chastised Stuyvesant. The public hadn't heard this yet. Stuyvesant knew what it was, knew it would be humiliating to him, and tried to grab the notice out of one of the councilman's hands. In that moment of chaos, he tore the document, breaking off the official seal. But realizing how desperate

he looked in front of the crowd, he stopped and allowed the paper to be read. In that moment, the people of New Amsterdam heard that their government had condemned Keefe's war, approved of the nine men as popular representatives, and chastised Stuyvesant for trying to thwart them. Stuyvesant was defeated. He left the church. He released van der Donk from custody. For the moment, there was no other choice of action. Upon his release, van der Donk went into high gear. He wrote an 83-page indictment of the West India Company's mismanagement of the colony. And at the end of July 1649, with two of the nine men, he boarded a ship bound for Holland. It was autumn when more than two months later,

Van der Donk found himself back in Europe in the land of his birth. It must have felt strange. He'd become accustomed to the wilderness of his adopted home across the Atlantic. In his nine years there, he had become an American. But back at the Hague, he appeared before the governing body and presented his argument that it should take direct charge of the North American colony. His appeal was impassioned. He knew the Dutch leaders understood little about their colony. They had been focused on Asia, where their largest profits came from. But the American colony, he told them, sat astride a continent so vast that even the native tribes didn't know how far westward it ran. It was full of timber and other riches, an endless new world to explore. And the Dutch were uniquely suited to settling it

because their policy of tolerance and their free-trading ways gave them a rich, robust society. He put it, the Dutch regard foreigners virtually as native citizens as long as they are prepared to adapt. He drew the attention of the leaders in particular to the heart of the colony, Manhattan, an island that was remarkably strategically located. the heart of the colony, Manhattan, an island that was remarkably strategically located. He said of the island, it's very well adapted on account of the convenience of the river and a base from which we may pursue trade all the way to Cape Florida, to the West Indies, and to Europe, and wherever the Lord our God shall be pleased to permit. But the government, he warned, had to act and give the settlers direct control over their affairs

because the English were growing stronger in America. One day, the territory would grow so strong it would outstrip the home country in power. But if the Dutch government didn't act, the English would take the colony. Van der Donk said it will lose even the name of New Netherland. After deliberating, the government reached its decision. It could no longer approve of the perverse administration of the privileges and benefits granted by charter to the stockholders of the West India Company, while neglecting or opposing the good plans and offers submitted for the security of the boundaries and the increase

of the population of that country. They were siding with the colonists. The company had abused its authority. For New Netherland, a new day was dawning. There were two important parts to the government's decree. The first was a municipal charter. The city of New Amsterdam on Manhattan would henceforth be given official status as a Dutch city, even though it sat thousands of miles across the ocean from the nation. The second part of the government's decree was a sentence that must have delighted Van der Donk. Peter Stuyvesant, the present director, shall be instructed to return home and report. He was being recalled. Van der Donk had won, and he and his two companions must have celebrated all night. Through his years in America, Van der Donk had

developed beliefs about the place, that it was a land of the future, that settling it could only truly come about if it was combined with these new ideas about human rights and freedoms. And now it appeared it would happen, and he himself, at age 30, had brought it about. But then, just as suddenly, it all came crashing down. In July 1652, within days of the state's general decision, the English ruler, Oliver Cromwell, declared war on the Dutch Republic. Faced with a crisis, the Dutch government decided it was a bad time to experiment with political reforms. They rescinded the order recalling Stuyvesant, and as for van der Donk, much as they may have agreed with him in principle, he was too fiery a figure for the present. He was forbidden to sail back to New Netherland, where it was feared he would stir things up at a

time when the nation had to be united. It was a stunning reversal, but it wasn't and couldn't be the end of things. After absorbing the shock, Van der Donk got busy on another front. New Netherland desperately needed settlers, so he took it upon himself to advertise. He wrote a book about the colony, The Description of New Netherland, which became a bestseller. Through it, many Europeans first heard about the island called Manhattan. He poured out his heart in the book, extolling the virtues of America. He described the meadows, lakes, and streams, the mountains, the animals, the birds,

the grapevines, the herbs, even the winds. Everything in America, he declared, was bigger than in Europe and better. And he described the possibilities for trade, how open it was, how bright the future was. Everything in America was promising and fresh, so unlike Europe and its tired old traditions that there was no room for what he called pessimistic persons. Imagine you're a Flemish merchant just arriving in the Dutch city

of The Hague. You're back from a long and fruitless venture to several other cities, trying to sell a relatively new product, tea. It's a big hit, but that's the problem. The market's flooded. You've invested your life savings in this venture, and now you're desperate to find buyers. As you get off the ship, you see a crowd on the dock. You go up to a stranger, a young, harried man

who seems to be carrying everything he owns as he shepherds his wife and two young children ahead of him. Hey there. Sir. What's all this commotion about? We're off for New Netherland. Never heard of it. The Dutch colony in America. Where have you been? Haven't you read the book about it? He reaches into his sack and pulls out his copy. You mean to say you've read a book about America, and now you're going to move there? To sail for weeks, possibly facing storms or pirates or, God forbid, shipwreck? You must be mad. Surely you realize there's no civilization in America. In the winter, the whole continent packs up with snow and ice. It's full of wild animals. Good. You'll be eaten alive. I don't know where you get your information, but if by wild animals you mean beavers and minks and otters,

yes, the continent is full of them. The colony is shipping hundreds of thousands of furs per year, and thousands of barrels of salt are being moved from the Caribbean to Manhattan and then to Europe. The tobacco trade is booming as well. Those cities our people have built, New Amsterdam and Beirut, are rough but lively and fast-growing. And they're all about trade. Everyone in New Amsterdam is a trader. And of course, you are a trader too. A quick-witted, enterprising man of business. I see.

And what are the people in New Netherland consuming? What products of ours are they buying? Just about everything. They have no manufacturing yet. Do you think they might like tea? Vanderdonk's book was so successful that hundreds of people who read it marched to the port ready to sail to America. Even members of Vanderdonk's family, including his mother,

sailed off to make their home in the natural paradise of Manhattan. Eventually, Vanderdonk himself was allowed to return to what had become his true home. But he was forbidden from getting involved in politics. His last years are a mystery, with few details surviving. He retired to his estate just north of Manhattan. In 1655, there was a sudden Indian attack in the region. No details survive, but Vanderdonk was apparently one of the casualties. An irony, considering he was one of the advocates for better relations with native tribes. Peter Stuyvesant, though, lived on, and he grew stronger as director of the colony. The colony grew stronger as well,

thanks in part to Vander Donk's recruiting mission. It secured more rights for the inhabitants, and with its municipal charter, New Amsterdam now had an official city council who represented not the company, but the people. They turned the old city tavern into city hall, and there they began making decisions. They conducted a census of the population, built roads and fortifications around their city to protect it from possible attack by the English, and along the northern end, they built a wall. The street that ran alongside it got a name that would become a landmark for generations to come, Wall Street. Next on American History Tellers, the English finally set their sights on taking Manhattan and the Dutch colony. Peter Stuyvesant has a choice to make,

fight and risk everything, or negotiate a lasting settlement. From Wondery, this is 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.com slash survey. American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham, for Airship. Sound design by Derek Behrens. This episode is written by Russell Shorto.

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