American History Tellers - Dutch Manhattan - The Sheriff Comes to Town | 4

Episode Date: September 25, 2019

Just as it was becoming a New World success story, disaster came to New Amsterdam. Willem Kieft, the Dutch leader appointed by the West India Trading Company, declared war on local tribes, sending soldiers to slaughter them in their villages. The tribes responded with waves of death and destruction that would set the European settlers back decades in their development. A new colonist named Adriaen Van der Donck arrived to find the place in chaos. The colonists were furious at Kieft for endangering their settlement with his attacks. Van der Donck had been trained as a lawyer, and he soon found a role organizing the colonists against Kieft. He lobbied Kieft to permit the formation of a council to give the residents a say in their government. But when it became clear Kieft had no intention of giving the council any real power, Van der Donck responded by going over Kieft’s head and appealing directly to the leaders of the West India Company for intervention. The response wasn’t what he expected. It would lead to the appointment of a new Dutch leader, a hardliner tasked with wrestling the wayward colonists back under control. His name was Peter Stuyvesant.Support us by supporting ours 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 August 1641 and you're a young Dutch woman, the daughter of a New Amsterdam fur trader. You've spent most of your life in the rough wilderness of Manhattan Island. Right now, you're in the fort of New Amsterdam and you're quaking with fear. A man you often see around town but have never spoken to, the gruff, blustery, scheming head of this wilderness colony, Willem Kieft, is staring right at you. At his side are several West India Company soldiers.

Most of the town is gathered, and the mood is angry and edgy, all eyes on you. Kieft addresses you. Now, Miss Van Voorst, I know you are in much trouble by recent events. I want you to take your time and tell us exactly what you saw last Tuesday. You take a breath and begin. My father wanted to pay off his debt to Mr. Switz, so I went to his tavern. He was alone inside. I gave him the beaver furs.

He gave me something to drink because it was a hot day. Then I left. And was Mr. Switz alone when you left? Well, go on. You have a legal obligation to say what you saw. As I was going out the front door, I saw someone come in the back. And did you recognize that person? Who was it?

Yes, it was him. You point reluctantly at a young Indian, a man of the Wicasket tribe, whose village is in the north of the island. You've known him for years, both of you having grown up on Manhattan. He always seemed kind, so you feel hesitant. But Keefe presses you. And what happened next? A minute later, I heard a strange sound, an ugly sound. I ran back inside and I... Yes? You must say what you saw. I saw Mr. Switz on the ground. His body and his head, his head was cut off. There was a gasp from the townspeople at this. Heath presses you further. And what else did you see? Nothing. There was no one else in the tavern, but the axe, Mr. Swit's axe, was lying beside the body, covered in blood.

The townspeople erupt in indignation, with everyone talking and gesturing. In the confusion, the young Wacaskic man suddenly breaks free from the soldiers holding him and dashes away. He's gone in a flash. Once the hubbub dies down, Keefe addresses everyone present. I ask you all now whether it is not just to punish the barbarous murder of Klaus Switz committed by that young Indian. The people give an angry roar of approval. Keefe then has one further point to make, and since he will no doubt return to his village, if they refuse to surrender him, are we not justified in destroying that village? The people start to cheer, but as they process what their leader is asking,

some of them stop. You, meanwhile, feel sick in your heart. What is all this? It feels like Kieft laid a trap and that you were an unwitting part of his plan. All you did was tell the truth. Now Kieft is issuing orders. Soldiers, put on your armor, get your weapons, and prepare to march. What is happening? The Manhattan you have grown up in is a rough place, but it was always a peaceful one, with good relations between the Dutch settlers and the natives whose homeland this is. But that tentative peace is about to end, and in the ugliest way possible.

Kill List is a true story of how I ended up in a race against time to warn those whose lives were in danger. Follow Kill List wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Kill List and more Exhibit C true crime shows like Morbid early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. I'm Saatchi 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 fragile coexistence of the Dutch settlers and Native Americans in early Manhattan needed only a spark to devolve into violence. Willem Keeft, the early leader backed by the powerful West India Trading Company, provided that spark, and also set up a clash between the company and the colony's settlers. The Dutch had pioneered free trade, the beginnings of what we call capitalism,

and they pioneered toleration, putting beginnings of what we call capitalism, and they pioneered toleration, putting up with people who were different, who didn't worship the same way, didn't speak or look the same way. These two traits became part of Manhattan, part of New York's DNA. But before that could happen, Willem Keeft would have to confront a new arrival to the island, a Dutchman who had a different vision for New Amsterdam and the surrounding territory, and along with the other settlers, would challenge the tight hold of Keeft and the colony founders. This series is written by Russell Shorto

and based on his best-selling book, The Island at the Center of the World. This is episode four, The Sheriff Comes to Town. From the moment it was founded in 1626, the town of New Amsterdam was a rowdy place. The home country, the Dutch Republic, had a mixed population and an official policy of tolerance of religious differences, which was highly unusual in Europe at the time. This policy carried over to New Amsterdam, which also had a diverse mix of people. French, Italian, German, Danish, Swedish,

English, and more. And while a certain amount of energy came with that mix, it also contributed to the loose, ragged nature of the place. The West India Company had a monopoly on all shipping, but the company was still struggling financially on Manhattan, weighed down by the demanding time and costs of supporting the colony. Yet the potential for business was huge. Beaver pelts fetched high prices in Europe. As a result, though, smugglers stepped in. Pirates got word that Manhattan Island was ripe for the picking. And as lawlessness spread, the original settlers of the island, who had put their sweat and tears into making it their home, became bitterly discouraged. Then in 1640, the company gave in and relinquished its monopoly on trade.

Dutch shipping companies located in Amsterdam sent branch managers across the Atlantic to New Amsterdam to open offices. Beaver pelts, minks, otters, a lively market sprang up in animal furs. And there were markets for lumber and tobacco. All sorts of New World products were being loaded onto ships and sent off to Europe. This rough little town began to prosper. Families grew larger. People were building homes, plowing farmland.

The soil seemed richer than at home, and people marveled at how high their crops grew, wheat, oats, rye, beans, and corn. Everyone seemed pleased with the way things were going, except for the officials of the West India Company. Giving up their monopoly meant that they were reducing their possibility for profits, while at the same time, the company still had to run the place, which meant paying the salaries of the soldiers, sending ships back and forth, and supplying most of the colony's needs. Other parts of their territory were faring better.

Brazil and the islands off the Caribbean showed much more profit potential. So the company sent Willem Keeft to Manhattan with orders, bring the costs down. Keeft had arrived in 1638, and at that moment, to the north, the English in New England were claiming victory in a bloody war against the Pequot Indians. The result of their decision to attack this peaceful tribe was, as far as Keeft could tell,quot Indians. The result of their decision to attack this peaceful tribe was, as far as Keefe could tell, a positive one. The English took over Pequot lands and expanded the territory of New England. This English victory gave him an idea. The native tribes in and around Manhattan were expensive to deal with. His colony was at peace with them, but he reasoned that this

was because of the costly presence of so many soldiers. The military presence kept the natives from trying anything rash. If he could eliminate the native villages in the region, he could cut back on soldiers. And wouldn't that be a cost-cutting measure his bosses in Amsterdam would approve of? But what Keefe needed was an excuse to start a war. And when he heard about the murder of Claes Switz, an old and much-loved resident of the colony by a Wiccaskic Indian, he believed he had his pretext. Of course, there was backstory to the murder. Fourteen years earlier, the Indian boy, whose name is unknown, was traveling to New Amsterdam one day with some adults of his tribe in order to trade furs. On the outskirts of town, a group of white men had surprised them and killed them all. Only the boy had gotten away.

He had grown to adulthood and developed relationships with the whites, all the while haunted by the memory of that awful event. He had also come to know Clay Switz and had even done some work for the man's son. There didn't seem to be any bad blood between them. But at that moment, when he was alone with the old man, and Switz bent down to get something out of a chest, and there was an axe right there on the wall, the past seemed to come flooding back.

The old rage which had stood in him all those years suddenly leapt out, and he took his revenge. But it was a murder, and that was all that mattered to Willem Keeft. For him, it could be used to further his own plans, but in order to take advantage of it, Keeft would need to build up some local support. He knew he wasn't very popular with the people of New Amsterdam. They knew he had little experience before being sent here. He had been neither a soldier nor a leader, and they routinely ridiculed him for how little he knew about the colony, about anything in America.

So it became evident to Keefe during his time on Manhattan that the inhabitants of New Amsterdam were a feisty and combative lot. They lived in a company town, but they chafed against the company's rule. First, they had pushed for an end to the monopoly on shipping,

and the company gave in on that. As a result, many of them were prospering, so they had no grounds for further complaint, but still they weren't happy. They began demanding to have a say in how the place was run. Keefe would give it to them. He announced that the people should pick 12 men to form a council that would assist him in governing. He had no intention, however, of actually giving them power.

He wanted a rubber stamp on the decisions he had already made. The townspeople chose their representatives, and the twelve filed into the fort for their first day in session. Keefe began peppering them with questions, which were intended to lure them, step by step, into agreeing with the logic of his decision. Did they agree that the murder of Clay Switz should be punished? Did they agree that his village should be burned to the ground?

How should they do it? Who should do it? But to Keefe's annoyance, the twelve men took their new position seriously. Yes, they said they agreed that the murderer should be punished, but no, they certainly did not think the man's village should be destroyed. To do such a thing would be madness. After all, a main reason for the Dutch colony's existence was to obtain beaver furs. But the Dutch didn't trap beavers themselves.

They traded with the Indians for them. They needed the Indians as business partners. Still, the twelve men had to be careful about how they proceeded with Kieft. They had been living in Manhattan for years, had done the hard work of building homes and families and livelihoods there. That included developing relationships with the Indians. Keeft was a newcomer, but one with the power. So they put their answers as diplomatically as possible. By all means, the murderer should be punished, they said, in a carefully written reply. But rather than attack the village,

they said they should make a friendly request without threats for the surrender of the murderer. When Kieft pushed further, they formulated a clever comeback. They knew Kieft was no soldier. He had been a businessman in the home country. So if such a terrible step should become necessary, they wrote, then it was their opinion that the honorable director shall personally lead this expedition. Kieft was incensed. He decided to forget about building an alliance of support and simply ordered his soldiers to attack two Indian villages, one just north of New Amsterdam on Manhattan Island and the other across the Hudson River. On the night of the attack, one of the twelve men, David DeVries, had dinner with Keeft at his home

inside the fort to try to talk him out of it. He told the director that the 12 men constituted a legal body and he couldn't act without their approval. This enraged Keefe. He informed DeVries that he was going to have his soldiers attack that very night. DeVries pointed out that this would be murder and it would also lead to the murder of their own colonists. Without warning the inhabitants in the open lands, he said, meaning the settlers who lived on farms scattered outside the town, the Indians who survived the

attack would take revenge on them. But Keefe told DeVries it was all set. He led him to the open space in the fort. There stood the soldiers, about 200 of them, dressed for battle, looking grim and deadly. Imagine you're on the shore of the Hudson River in the winter of 1643. You're a woman of the Tappan tribe. Some weeks ago, together with your husband and several others from your home village, you traveled south after your village had been attacked by longtime enemies, Mohawk Indians from further north. Since you had good dealings with the Dutch,

you had fled to a site across the river from their settlement on Manhattan and asked for their protection. They assured you that you would be safe, so you formed a makeshift village there. Now, in the dark, freezing cold night of February 25th, 1643, you are awoken from your sleep by a hideous shriek. Around you are scenes of terror. Fire is raging. People are screaming. Gunshots explode, and men and women are shot dead as they sleep. You look around frantically for your husband. You see that he's about to take off into the woods after the unseen attackers, but you stop him. Where are you going? To kill the Mohawks. This

has to be avenged. No, we should run to the river. The canoes, we can get to the Dutch fort. Your husband isn't sure. You think the Hollanders will help us? Yes, I'm certain they will. They promised to be our allies. The two of you manage to escape the chaos and slip across the river in a canoe, and before long you are at the Dutch fort. It is eerily quiet here. At the gate, you are surprised to find David de Vries, whom you have gotten to know. He's one of the twelve council members from the Dutch settlers. Your husband greets him hastily and in confusion.

De Vries! What luck to find a true friend here. We come for help. The Mohawks have attacked us across the river, killing innocent people in their sleep. Babies! De Vries looks sorrowful. I'm afraid it isn't the Mohawk. It is us, the Dutch. Soldiers from New Amsterdam. This fort is the last place you should come for protection. Flee now. I'm sorry. You are confused by this. But we were told about your toleration. That the Dutch held it as a high ideal to treat all with respect,

as long as they are not your enemy. That may be the way for some Dutchmen, but not for all. Keeft has done this terrible thing. He is a weak leader. He commits savagery on the defenseless to make himself feel strong. He believes he can make life easier for himself by exterminating all natives from the region. Then there will be no need for toleration. You should run far away. The attack on the Tappan village and another on Manhattan on that same night resulted in the

deaths of about 80 Native Americans. Those atrocities touched off a series of counterattacks over the following months, which further turned the Dutch settlers against Keeft. Keeft, in turn, disbanded the council of his advisors. Life in Manhattan descended into chaos. The settlers of New Amsterdam, as well as those who had farms elsewhere on Manhattan Island and others ranged across the Hudson River, found themselves living in panic. Death might come at any moment, and a silent hail of arrows were accompanied by blood-curdling cries. They had to forget about being peaceable farmers and traders. Now the only thing that mattered was survival. 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

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I'm your host, Brandon James Jenkins. Follow Criminal Attorney on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to Criminal Attorney early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. While Willem Keeft was trying to figure out how to govern the headstrong population in the rough and ready wilderness village of New Amsterdam, an idealistic young man named Adrian van der Donk arrived in one of Europe's most sophisticated cities to begin the study of law. The University of Leiden was the greatest center of learning in the Dutch Republic, perhaps in the entire world. Leiden was as vibrant and elegant as New Amsterdam was rough. Its canals were lined with taverns and music halls. Students strolled through the town,

locked in intellectual discussion. The Dutch nation was renowned all over Europe for its relative tolerance, not just of religion, but of ideas in general, and therefore Leiden was a haven for scholars and thinkers. Galileo sent his books about astronomy to Leiden to be published. They put forth theories about the earth and the solar system that contradicted the teachings of the Catholic Church back in Italy. René Descartes, the French philosopher who was widely considered the greatest thinker of the age, was in Leiden at the time, drawn by the free-thinking atmosphere. The botanical gardens, meanwhile, contained species of plants from all over the world. Its botanists were busy breeding new varieties of tulips, for which the Dutch had an endless

fascination. For entertainment and edification, one could attend anatomical dissections. These were outlawed in most of Europe, but there in Leiden, watching a surgeon slice open a corpse and reveal the inner workings of the human body was considered essential to furthering knowledge. And van der Donk soaked it all in. It was an exhilarating time to study law, for the basic concepts of law were just undergoing a radical revision. Until recently, law had been grounded on the idea that a nation was part of Christendom, the worldwide body of Christians, and all legal

reasoning was therefore tied to the Bible. But a new generation of thinkers had come of age, led by the Dutch legal scholar Hugo de Groot, also known as Grotius. The new thinking was influenced by developments in science, which showed that the Bible was often wrong in describing the natural world. And if that was the case, if the Bible should not be a justification for scientific reasoning, then the law, too, should have a clearer foundation. A legal decision, these new thinkers believed, should be based on a set of earlier precedents.

The law shouldn't be a form of theological reasoning, but a practical science. Imagine it's 1641. You're a law student at Leiden University in the Netherlands. Your father and grandfather were both lawyers, and like them, and many of your teachers, you follow the traditional approach. Today is the last day of your studies, and your professor is preparing you to enter the world by reminding you of the traditional foundation of the law, which you think is exactly right. And remember, there is a natural order in society. The ruler sits at the top,

and his rule is grounded in God and God's word, the Bible. It follows that all subjects must obey their ruler, for to disobey the ruler would be to defy God. But one of your fellow students, Adrian Vanderdonk, can't sit still for this. He interrupts. The professor pauses. There's a tenseness in his expression. The professor suddenly becomes enraged. You have persisted in these pernicious ideas for your whole academic career, Van der Donk. You believe God is imperfect? You're entering dangerous waters, young man. I believe God to be quite perfect. It's man

I find guilty of imperfection. And every ruler I have ever heard of is nothing but an imperfect human being. To assume that a ruler is supported by God's will simply because he outmaneuvered others who would have ruled, or worse, because he is merely the son of a ruler, is to give tyrants free reign over us. At this, the professor rushes right up to Vanderdaan. Some of the students actually hold him back, fearing he's about to tackle him. But he frees himself and shakes a fist in the young man's face. I predict a perilous career for you, with such a frontery you are sure to incite the wrath of your betters. All the students are aroused by this debate, some taking the professor's side while others are with Vanderdonk.

You find yourself irritated by Vanderdonk, and you suddenly speak out. Surely you would concede, Vanderdonk, that if society were to follow the course you propose, it would lead in short time to chaos. Because if anyone can claim that the ruler is unjust, then every ruler will have his enemies who will try to throw him from office. There will be no government, only a collection of competing interests. To your irritation, Vander Donk smiles at this, as if that's exactly the point he wanted someone to make. A collection of competing interests.

Yes, that is precisely what a society is. Then who would lead? And how would government be agreed upon? The leader would be chosen by the people. Their individual votes would express their approval or disapproval. This is such a novel idea, it stops you. You need time to think about it. As the class ends, you follow other students outside the auditorium where they're discussing their career plans. Someone asks you what you will do. I'll work for my father's company,

of course. Import-export, there's much to be done there. But van der Donk walks up just then, and someone asks him if he'll be working for his father, too. No, I want to see the world. I want to make a difference. There's an opening for a law officer in New Netherland. So I am going to America. Adrian van der Donk arrived in New Amsterdam July of 1641.

He was a 23-year-old lawyer looking for adventure. He didn't stay long on Manhattan, however. The job he had applied for was a kind of colony within the Dutch colony of New Netherland. With life being so good in the home country, the West India Company was having difficulty finding settlers, so it offered wealthy individuals large tracts of land called patroonships for free. They could do whatever they wanted with their land, but they had to promise to settle it, to bring people, farm animals, and everything else necessary at their own expense. In reality, there was only one functioning

patroonship. It was owned by an Amsterdam diamond merchant named Kilian van Rensselaer. Although van Rensselaer remained in Europe, he tried to personally oversee the development of Rensselaerwick, including doing all the hiring himself. Since the West India Company gave him free reign to develop his patroonship as he liked, he was in effect building his own society, complete with its own government, within the Dutch colony. Therefore, he knew he needed a law officer. He chose van der Donk to be his settlement's sheriff, though the job actually combined the duties of a sheriff and a prosecutor. Van Rensselaer knew

van der Donk's family, which was how he tapped the young man for the job. From Manhattan, then, van der Donk boarded another boat for the 150-mile journey up the Hudson River. Once arrived, he was thunderstruck by the raw wilderness. Towering forests, steep rises of mountains, torrential waterfalls, the broad but enormously powerful river. It was all utterly unalike his homeland. But he quickly fell in love with the place, and over the following months plunged into a study of it all.

Few Europeans had any clear notion of America, so he began keeping a journal, thinking that he might publish his observations. The whole country is covered with forest, he wrote. Wood will never be scarce here. Yellow and white pine, chestnut, beech, and maple. There are plums, wild cherries, hazelnuts and apples, black currants, gooseberries, and strawberries in abundance. Grapevines grow wild everywhere. Many bears are found in the country, but not like the gray and

pale bears of Muscovy. Here, the bears are of a shiny black color. Buffalos are tolerably plenty. The deer are incredibly numerous. And there's another kind of animal here, called a moose, as large as a horse. He studied the birds, the fish, the soil, and even the winds, the swift and fostering messengers of commerce, he called them. He studied the seasons and fell in love with the fall season of America. The autumns in New Netherland are very fine, lovely and agreeable. More delightful can not be found on earth. But more than anything, he became fascinated by the native peoples. As he went about his duties on Van Rensselaer's vast estate, he found that its European settlers had regular dealings with the Indians.

Natives came in and out of the little town of Bevervik, buying bread at the bakery, chatting on the street. He visited the villages of the Mohawks, Mohicans, and other tribes, lived among them for a time, learned several of their languages, and absorbed everything he could about their society. He found them overall reasonable and balanced in their approach to life. In eating and drinking, the Indians are not excessive, he wrote. They are cheerful and well-satisfied. It is not with them the way it is in Holland, where the greatest and the richest live more luxuriously. With them, the same meat and drink is sufficient for everyone.

He studied their clothing, their houses, their traditions, how they treated their children, and how they buried their dead. He became fascinated by the multiplicity of different tribes. He cataloged four different language groups among the tribes of the region and noted details of their grammar. Declension and conjugation resemble those in Greek, he wrote, for they have duels in their nouns and augments in their verbs. But as a lawyer, he found their method of justice bewildering. The common rules of justice are not observed among them. Minor offenses, such as stealing, adultery, lying, or cheating, go unpunished.

He took particular note of the Indians' ideas about property. Among them, owning land outright was a non-existent concept. For them, he wrote, Wind, stream, bush, field, sea, beach, and riverside are open and free to everyone of every nation with which the Indians are not embroiled in open conflict. All are free to enjoy such places as though they were born there.

He learned the Indians' customs for entering treaties and took care to understand these, figuring that the knowledge would be useful. About the only thing that did not excite him about his new home was the estate of Rensselaer Wick itself and his job there. Looking and acting like a sheriff, riding the range in his wide-brimmed hat and leather boots with a silver sword at his side, maintaining peace and justice among the farmers and other inhabitants.

For a time, it must have been enjoyable for the young man. But soon after arriving, he began to clash with Kilian van Rensselaer, the owner of the platoon ship, as well as the manager on site. Van Rensselaer had wanted a lawman who would simply carry out his orders, but van der Donk was fiery and strong-willed with his own ideas. And at the same time, he began hearing news of events further south, in New Amsterdam. It was all about what people were calling Keefe's War, the military raids on Indian villages that murdered whole families. Now, as spring approached, the colonists feared

the Indians were preparing to counterattack. Van der Donk had learned enough about the native peoples to regard them as equal to Europeans in most ways, and therefore for him to feel outraged by Keefe's action. On top of that, the war, which the colonists themselves overwhelmingly opposed, had set off a conflict of a different kind, a conflict between the people of the colony and its leadership. The settlers believed their leader did not represent their interests. This was politics in its purest form, an experiment in justice, a real-world opportunity to engage in what his teachers at Leiden had called natural law, the new, modern notion of using human reason to determine right and wrong. And van der Donk thought he was

missing it. He had had enough of the wild backwater of Rensselaerwick, so he quit his post as sheriff and headed south. Manhattan was calling him. Now streaming. Welcome to Buy It Now, the show where aspiring entrepreneurs get the opportunity of a lifetime. I wouldn't be chasing it if I didn't believe that the world needs this product. In each episode, the entrepreneurs get 90 seconds to pitch to an audience of potential customers. This is match point, baby.

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It began on the river. Two Dutch boats plying the waters between Manhattan and Beverwick were attacked by Indians in canoes. Nine traders were killed. Then a group of Indians approached a family of settlers, pretending to offer beavers for trade. They surprised and killed the husband and wife. Their son was wounded in five places but escaped to the fort. Then in October, a small party of Indians showed up at the little settlement of Pavonia,

across the river from New Amsterdam, where there were farming families and a handful of soldiers. They chatted with the soldiers until they'd convinced them of their good intentions. Then they attacked, killing everyone except one young man whom they took captive and burned the farmhouse to the ground. Slowly, residents of New Amsterdam pieced together the evidence and realized that Keeft had brought together the tribes from a great distance into an alliance against them, including the Wappingers, 70 miles to the north, who had never previously been part of any troubles.

The pattern became as familiar as it was frightening. The dreaded sound of arrows hissing in the night air, shrieking, yodeling cries, waking families out of their sleep. The attacks came to New Amsterdam, too. Homes were burned to the ground. The villagers, many of whom who had been there for 17 years, ever since it was founded by Peter Minuit, saw all of their hard work destroyed in a flash. The attacks came in waves. No one knew when the calm of ordinary life would give way to sudden horror. People from outlying farms flooded into the city,

and everyone was forced to retreat within the earthen walls of the fort. Among the displaced was Cornelis Malign, who had sailed to New Amsterdam on the same ship as Adrian Vanderdonk, also hoping to make a new life. With him had come his wife, Yonikin, and their children. They began farming on Staten Island, but were forced to flee to Manhattan when the attacks began. Around the time they arrived, a German sailor named Joachim Kauter had also come to the colony. He bought farmland at the north end of Manhattan Island and began growing tobacco. As part of the retaliation for Keefe's massacre of their villages,

Native Americans burned and destroyed Kauter's farm. As the people of New Amsterdam huddled together within the fort, grieving over their dead and pondering what they could do, the two men, Maline and K and Counter, began to lead them. All agreed that Keeft had brought this calamity on their heads, but they deliberated over what to do about it. Keeft couldn't help but hear the rage of his townspeople, for he was stuck in the fort with them. He decided to try to mollify them and perhaps even get them on his side by forming another council. This time, the villagers chose eight men to represent them. Malign was leader of the council. Another man on it, Isaac

Allerton, was an Englishman who had traveled to America on the Mayflower with the English pilgrims, then came south to Manhattan. Keefe brought the council together and laid out the situation as he saw it. The war against the Indians, he informed them, had been costly. As a result, he needed to raise money. So he proposed to put a tax on beer. The council erupted in indignation. He had started an insane war against the natives, which brought death and ruin onto all of them, and now he wanted to pay for it by taxing their beer. The council met privately to discuss what to do. They sent appeals to the West India Company leaders in Amsterdam. The letters were written by the town minister, Everardus Bogardus, with much religious imagery. Almighty God, through his righteous judgment,

hath kindled around us the fire of an Indian war, one began. But the letters accomplished nothing. They needed help, or soon their settlement would be turned to ashes. Imagine it's October of 1644. You are one of the eight councillors of New Amsterdam. You're all packed into a small room, and it's hot and quiet. There's a conspiratorial air. People's lives are at stake. You're meeting in secret in the home of Cornelis Malign. You have to be quiet as you talk because right next door, only an arm's length away, is the home of Cornelis Van Tienhoven, Keefe's right-hand man. There's a knock and everyone is startled. Malign opens the door and lets Adrian Vanderdonk in. Malign assures you that he can be trusted. He explains that he and Vanderdonk got to know one another on the that he can be trusted. He explains that he and Vanderdonk got

to know one another on the voyage over, and that he has been working upriver at Rensselaerswyck. Vanderdonk is eager to speak. I traveled here because I want to help. I've talked to many people on the way downriver, heard their stories of pain and suffering. I've also spoken with Indians and heard their side. Some of the counselors are dubious. They don't want to rile Keeft unnecessarily by involving outsiders. But you have a thought. Can you write? Of course I can write. I'm a lawyer, trained at Leiden. You explain what the townspeople have done up to now, writing letters to Amsterdam in which they pour out their hearts. You see van der Donk's face light up. Personal stories are good, yes,

but it has to be cast in the proper way. What we need to do is file a formal complaint. Vanderdonk begins to write, crafting a carefully constructed legal document to be sent before the company directors in the home country. He begins at the beginning, reading it out to you. Twelve men were called together in November 1641 on the matter of the murder of Clay Switz. The director asked them whether the murder should be avenged. The men began to debate this, but the director began to call for war. Vanderdonk goes on to describe how the first board of counselors had refused to back the war, but Keeft had disbanded them and ordered his soldiers to murder Indians in two

villages. Then he states the substance of the complaint. We reject the idea that one man should dispose of our lives and property at his will in a manner so arbitrary that a king would not have such a legal right. He goes on to assert something so bold none of you had dared think it. Keeft must be dismissed and a new leader should be appointed. And he adds an even bolder touch. For it is impossible to ever settle this country until a different system is introduced. We propose a system in which villagers will elect officers from among themselves who will vote alongside the director and his council. That way, we will never again be at the whim of one man and exposed to similar danger.

You look around at your fellow counselors. Ed's not in agreement. It's risky and dangerous, but these are desperate times. The complaint was smuggled onto a ship that was about to leave for Amsterdam. It made its slow way across the ocean. When the directors of the West India Company opened it, they must have been stunned. The idea that Keeft, their employee, had purposely launched a war against the local tribes was in itself shocking. The directors had issued a decree

at the very beginning of the colony's founding that the settlers should make every attempt to please the natives. The entire reason for the colony's existence, as far as the directors were concerned, was to make money by trading furs with the Indians. But something else in the complaint displeased them even more. The directors of the West India Company were very conservative men, who believed that for a society to function, everyone in it must know his or her place. Everyone must defer to the leader, otherwise all would dissolve into

chaos. Yet here was proof that the settlers were defying the man whom they had appointed to lead them. They even seemed proud of their disobedience. The company directors made a decision. They agreed wholeheartedly that Keefe's war had been a mistake, that the situation on Manhattan was out of control. But the answer was not to do what the complaint requested, to give the settlers themselves more power. The answer was to find a new leader, one better able to handle an unruly population. A man who could crack down on the settlers themselves. A man of iron and grit. The man was Peter Stuyvesant, and he was a company man right down to his wooden leg.

A clash was coming between two views of the colony's future and a clash of two ideas, autocracy and democracy. Next week on American History Tellers, a new leader arrives on Manhattan. But if the inhabitants of New Amsterdam think he is going to support them in their clamor for self-representation, they're in for a shock. This new leader is ready to battle whomever challenges the company's interests, whether Native American, English, or even his own people. 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, edited by Dorian Marina, edited and produced by Jenny Lauer Beckman. Our executive producer is Marshall Louis, created by Hernán López for Wondery. In the Pacific Ocean, halfway between Peru and New Zealand, lies a tiny volcanic island. It's a little-known British territory called Pitcairn, and it harboured a deep, dark scandal. There wouldn't be a girl on Pitcairn once they reach the age of ten that would still have urged it. It just happens to all of us. I'm journalist Luke Jones, and for almost two years,

I've been investigating a shocking story that has left deep scars on generations of women and girls from Pitcairn. When there's nobody watching, nobody going to report it, people will get away with what they can get away with. In the Pitcairn Trials, I'll be uncovering a story of abuse and the fight for justice that has brought a unique, lonely Pacific island to the brink of extinction. Listen to the Pitink of extinction.