—THE sky was clear, the sun had passed its meridian,[1] the fields were verdant, the flocks bleated in the valley, and Nature’s livery[2] wore a pleasing smile. Could a country lass, educated in the bosom of Nature, and an admirer of its charms, withstand the temptation for rambling, at this delightful season, and on so charming a day? I roved into the meadows; fancy directed my steps towards the industrious husbandman; [3] contemplation upon the goodness of heaven, in crowning his labours with such full grown crops, and with abundant plenty, to supply his like industrious family with bread, so wholly occupied my mind, that my feet strayed, I knew not whither.[4]
The birds, chanting their notes, and each winged songster caroling the praises of its creator, awoke me from my reverie.[5] I found myself in a wood, where flowers of different hues and fragrance, adorned each hillock, and the banks of a rivulet[6] boasted innumerable charms; in its clear mirror the neighbouring beauties were reflected, and over its pure bosom the barge of pleasure skum [sic].[7]
After wandering a little while, I found myself in an open field; the wild spontaneous flowers diversified the path that led to a small, though neat and well cultivated garden, where nature refined, was visible in every part; the meandering rivulet softly stole along between the rose-bush and hawthorn; at a little distance the branches of some trees were entwined together; the honey suckle and bellvine [8]crept over them and afforded a friendly shade. The favorite of Flora adorned the whole of this sequestered spot; a neat little cot arose to view—I entered it without the usual ceremony of knocking, for the doors were open, and seemed to say to the weary traveller, “thou art welcome.”
“Why are you immured [9] in this solitude?” said I, to an elegant and lovely female, who offered me a seat.
“To partake of happiness, and to watch a parent’s declining years,” replied the amiable Fanny[10]—”this humble dwelling is the abode of peace and content, though not of splendor.” I ran over her features with an exquisite look—a melancholy, which overspread her countenance, rendered it mild and interesting–a lively eye denoted quick penetration, solid sense, and a good heart—I apologized for my abrupt visit, and begged her to gratify me with a relation of some of the incidents of her life.
“My father, said this charming girl, was an eminent merchant in—; the smiles of fortune attended him for many years, opulence and domestic harmony rendered us supremely happy; continual losses in trade reduced our fortune to a mere compentency [sic].[11] An elder sister, an amiable girl, was cropt [sic][12] like a flower in the bloom of youth; she fell a wretched victim to hopeless love.—Unfortunately, she had contracted an attachment to a young man of merit, but such was her extreme delicacy, that she kept the fatal secret till a few moments before her dissolution. It was then too late to restore her life. Only the shade of a beloved daughter, an affectionate sister remained. My mother oppressed by misfortunes, sunk beneath their weight; and six months after, my sister bid a tender father, and me, an only remaining child, a long adieu. It was then my care to console a father, to watch his feeble age with unremitting attention.
“We left the croud [sic] and bustle of the metropolis, and sought an asylum, a relief from sorrow, in this village. In the summer, my garden affords me amusement; and in the winter, by a social fire, my aged father will repeat some of the adventures of his youth; or I from some book in our small library, will find amusement for him and myself, which enlivens the long evenings.”
Who would relinquish this delightful life for the splendid ball or brilliant circle the metropolis boasts? Here resides the innocence and peace; there envy and discord. In strolling into the wood, here each misfortune that embitters the cup of life is forgotten, and the celestial ray of happiness “streams through this frail mansion of mortality, subliming all our sufferings.”
Most of the virtues that adorn the pages of human nature are found in the retired cottage, and its mild influence will ever shake from the troubled heart the dews of sorrow.
Anonymous. “The Country Lass.” Juvenile Port-Folio & Literary Miscellany: Devoted to the Instruction & Amusement of Youth. 1, No. 22 (March 1813): 85-86.
[1] Meridian: A great circle on the surface of the earth passing throgh the poles. (Merriam-Webster)
[2] Livery: Garb or distinctive dress. (Merriam-Webster)
[7] Skum: An obsolete past tense version of the word “skim.” (OED)
[8] Bellvine (Convolvulus sepium), or wild morning glory, is a common Eurasian and American flowering plant. (Merriam-Webster)
[9] Immured: Imprisoned, enclosed within walls. (Merriam-Webster)
[10] Fanny: This character name or signifier is probably a sly reference to two meanings of the word 1) To deceive or persuade someone with insincere talk or 2) A story or statement told to elicit money or sympathy from the listener. (OED)
[11] Compentency: Most likely a misspelling of “competency” meaning a sufficient supply (this definition is now obsolete). (OED)
[12] Cropt: An alternative form of “cropped” meaning cut off, cut short, or pruned. (OED)
Contexts
The beginning of the 19th. century marked the first signs of the Industrial Revolution in the U.S. According to Heidler and Heidler in the book Daily Life in the Early American Republic, 1790-1820: Creating a New Nation, “By 1820, about 72 percent of Americans were farming, still a remarkably high figure by today’s standards, but also marking a sharp decline during the preceding 30 years that would not be matched again until the next century” (2004, 51). Also detailed in this book is the rapidly increasing transition of manufacturing into factories (See Ch. 4).
Language cannot express the awful ire of William the Testy[3] on hearing of the catastrophe at Fort Goed Hoop[4]. For three good hours his rage was too great for words, or rather the words were too great for him (being a very small man), and he was nearly choked by the misshapen, nine-cornered[5] Dutch oaths and epithets which crowded at one into his gullet. At length his words found vent, and for three days he kept up a constant discharge, anathematising the Yankees, man, woman, and child, for a set of dieven, schobbejacken, deugenieten, twist-zoekeren, blaes-kakken, loosen-schalken, kakken-bedden,[6] and a thousand other names, of which, unfortunately for posterity, history does not make mention. Finally, he swore that he would have nothing more to do with such a squatting, bundling, guessing, questioning, swapping, pumpkin-eating, molasses-daubing, shingle-splitting, cider-watering, horse-jockeying, notion-peddling crew—that they might stay at Fort Goed Hoop and rot, before he would dirty his hands by attempting to drive them away; in proof of which he ordered the new-raised troops to be marched forthwith into winter quarters, although it was not as yet quite midsummer. Great despondency now fell upon the city of New Amsterdam.[7] It was feared that the conquerors of Fort Goed Hoop, flushed with victory and apple-brandy, might march on to the capital, take it by storm, and annex the whole province to Connecticut. The name of Yankee became as terrible among the Nieuw Nederlanders[8] as was that of Gaul among the ancient Romans, insomuch that the good wives of the Manhattoes used it as a bugbear[9] wherewith to frighten their unruly children.
Everybody clamored round the governor, imploring him to put the city in a complete posture of defence, and he listened to their clamors. Nobody could accuse William the Testy of being idle in time of danger, or at any other time. He was never idle, but then he was often busy to very little purpose. When a youngling he had been impressed with the words of Solomon, “Go to the ant, thou sluggard, observe her ways and be wise,”[10] in conformity to which he had ever been of a restless, ant-like turn; hurrying hither and thither, nobody knew why or wherefore, busying himself about small matters with an air of great importance and anxiety, and toiling at a grain of mustard-seed in the full conviction that he was moving a mountain. In the present instance he called in all his inventive powers to his aid, and was continually pondering over plans, making diagrams, and worrying about with a troop of workmen and projectors at his heels. At length, after a world of consultation and contrivance, his plans of defence ended in rearing a great flag-staff in the center of the fort, and perching a windmill on each bastion.
These warlike preparations in some measure allayed the public alarm, especially after an additional means of securing the safety of the city had been suggested by the governor’s lady. It has already been hinted in this most authentic history that in the domestic establishment of William the Testy “the grey mare was the better horse;” in other words, that his wife “ruled the roast,” and, in governing the governor, governed the province, which might thus be said to be under petticoat government.
Now it came to pass that this time there lived in the Manhattoes a jolly, robustious trumpeter, named Anthony Van Corlear, famous for his long wind; and who, as the story goes, could twang so potently upon his instrument that the effect upon all within hearing was like that ascribed to the Scotch bagpipe when it sings right lustily i’ the nose.
This sounder of brass was moreover a lusty[11] bachelor, with a pleasant, burly visage, a long nose, and huge whiskers. He had his little bowery, or retreat in the country, where he led a roystering life, giving dances to the wives and daughters of the burghers of the Manhattoes, insomuch that he became a prodigious favorite with all the women, young and old. He is said to have been the first to collect that famous toll levied on the fair sex at Kissing Bridge,[12] on the highway to Hell-gate.[13]
To this sturdy bachelor the eyes of all the women were turned in this time of darkness and peril, as the very man to second and carry out the plans of defence of the governor. A kind of petticoat council was forthwith held at the government house, at which the governor’s lady presided: and this lady, as has been hinted, being all potent with the governor, the result of these councils was the elevation of Anthony the Trumpeter to the post of commandant of windmills and champion of New Amsterdam.
The city being thus fortified and garrisoned, it would have done one’s heart good to see the governor snapping his fingers and fidgeting with delight, as the trumpeter strutted up and down the ramparts twanging defiance to the whole Yankee race, as does a modern editor to all the principalities and powers on the other side of the Atlantic. In the hands of Anthony Van Corlear this windy instrument appeared to him as potent as the horn of the paladin Astolpho,[14] or even the more classic horn of Alecto;[15] nay, he had almost the temerity to compare it with the rams’ horns celebrated in Holy Writ, at the very sound of which the walls of Jericho fell down.[16]
Be all this as it may, the apprehensions of hostilities from the east gradually died away. The Yankees made no further invasion; nay, they declared they had only taken possession of Fort Goed Hoop as being erected within their territories. So far from manifesting hostility, they continued to throng to New Amsterdam with the most innocent countenances imaginable, filling the market with their notions, being as ready to trade with the Netherlands as ever, and not a whit more prone[17] to get to the windward of them in a bargain.
The old wives of the Manhattoes who took tea with the governor’s lady attributed all this affected moderation to the awe inspired by the military preparations of the governor, and the windy prowess of Anthony the Trumpeter.
“Anthony’s Nose” from Myths and Legends of Our Own Land[18]
The Hudson Highlands are suggestively named Bear Mountain, Sugar Loaf, Cro’ Nest, Storm King, called by the Dutch Boterberg, or Butter Hill, from its likeness to a pat of butter; Beacon Hill, where the fires blazed to tell the country that the Revolutionary war was over; Dunderberg, Mount Taurus, so called because a wild bull that had terrorized the Highlands was chased out of his haunts on this height, and was killed by falling from a cliff on an eminence to the northward, known, in consequence, as Breakneck Hill. These, with Anthony’s Nose, are the principal points of interest in the lovely and impressive panorama that unfolds before the view as the boats fly onward.[19]
Concerning the last-named elevation, the aquiline[20] promontory that abuts on the Hudson opposite Dunderberg, it takes title from no resemblance to the human feature, but is so named because Anthony Van Corlaer, the trumpeter, who afterwards left a reason for calling the upper boundary of Manhattan Island Spuyten Duyvil Creek, killed the first sturgeon[21] ever eaten at the foot of this mountain. It happened in this wise: By assiduous devotion to keg and flagon Anthony had begotten a nose that was the wonder and admiration of all who knew it, for its size was prodigious; in color it rivalled the carbuncle, and it shone like polished copper.[22] As Anthony was lounging over the quarter of Peter Stuyvesant’s galley one summer morning this nose caught a ray from the sun and reflected it hissing into the water, where it killed a sturgeon that was rising beside the vessel. The fish was pulled aboard, eaten, and declared good, though the singed place savored of brimstone, and in commemoration of the event Stuyvesant dubbed the mountain that rose above his vessel Anthony’s Nose.
“Why Spuyten Duyvil is so Named” from Myths and Legends of Our Own Land[18]
The tide-water creek that forms the upper boundary of Manhattan Island is known to dwellers in tenements round about as “Spittin’ Divvle.” The proper name of it is Spuyten Duyvil, and this, in turn, is the compression of a celebrated boast by Anthony Van Corlaer. This redoubtable gentleman, famous for fat, long wind, and long whiskers, was trumpeter for the garrison at New Amsterdam, which his countrymen had just bought for twenty-four dollars, and he sounded the brass so sturdily that in the fight between the Dutch and Indians at the Dey Street peach orchard[23] his blasts struck more terror into the red men’s hearts than did the matchlocks of his comrades. William the Testy vowed that Anthony and his trumpet were garrison enough for all Manhattan Island, for he argued that no regiment of Yankees would approach near enough to be struck with lasting deafness, as must have happened if they came when Anthony was awake.
Peter Stuyvesant-Peter the Headstrong[24]—showed his appreciation of Anthony’s worth by making him his esquire,[25] and when he got news of an English expedition on its way to seize his unoffending colony, he at once ordered Anthony to rouse the villages along the Hudson with a trumpet call to war. The esquire took a hurried leave of six or eight ladies, each of whom delighted to believe that his affections were lavished on her alone, and bravely started northward, his trumpet hanging on one side, a stone bottle, much heavier, depending from the other. It was a stormy evening when he arrived at the upper end of the island, and there was no ferryman in sight, so, after fuming up and down the shore, he swallowed a mighty draught of Dutch courage,[26]—for he was as accomplished a performer on the horn[27] as on the trumpet,—and swore with ornate and voluminous oaths that he would swim the stream “in spite of the devil” [En spuyt den Duyvil].
He plunged in, and had gone half-way across when the Evil One, not to be spited, appeared as a huge moss-bunker,[28] vomiting boiling water and lashing a fiery tail. This dreadful fish seized Anthony by the leg; but the trumpeter was game, for, raising his instrument to his lips, he exhaled his last breath through it in a defiant blast that rang through the woods for miles and made the devil himself let go for a moment. Then he was dragged below, his nose shining through the water more and more faintly, until, at last, all sight of him was lost. The failure of his mission resulted in the downfall of the Dutch in America, for, soon after, the English won a bloodless victory, and St. George’s cross[29] flaunted from the ramparts where Anthony had so often saluted the setting sun. But it was years, even then, before he was hushed, for in stormy weather it was claimed that the shrill of his trumpet could be heard near the creek that he had named, sounding above the deeper roar of the blast.
[6] These words are all Dutch (or pseudo-Dutch in the case of “loosen” to mean loose) and they mean ‘thieves’, ‘scum’, ‘rascals’, ‘twist-seeking’ (up to chicanery), ‘bladders’, ‘loose rogues’, and either ‘people who poop in their beds’ or ‘people who have poop for beds’, respectively.
[7] modern-day New York City. (OED)
[8] Dutch name for people who lived in the “New Netherlands”, portions of present day New England.
[9] an object of fear or dread. a boogieman. (OED)
[12] The bridge here mentioned by Mr. Knickerbocker still exists; but it is said that the toll is seldom collected nowadays excepting on sleighing parties, by the descendants of the patriarchs, who still preserve the traditions of the city. (Irving)
There are at least two structures known as “Kissing Bridge” in New York City. (Justo, Patrick D. “Libidinous New York.” New York, vol. 39, no. 6, Feb 20, 2006, pp. 16.)
[13] Hell Gate is a bridge in New York City that spans the east river between Randal’s Island and Brooklyn, near Riker’s Island.
[18] Myths and Legends of Our Own Land is an anthology of American myths and folklore, including excerpts from the works of Nathaniel Hawthorne, Washington Irving, as well as records, histories, newspapers, magazines, and oral narrative.
[22] Rhinophyma, Greek for ‘nose growth’ is a symptom of advanced rosacea. Known as ‘alcoholic’s nose’ it was once believed to be caused by drinking.
[23] The ‘Peach War‘ is mentioned in The Knickerbocker’s History, though Anthony Van Corlaer is not mentioned in that version of the tale.
[24] Peter Stuyvesant (1592-1672) was the last director-general of all Dutch possessions in the Caribbean and North America. In August 1664, he was forced to surrender the colony of New Netherlands to the English.
[29] A red cross on a white background, the cross consisting of an upright and a horizontal bar crossing each other in the center; a flag bearing this cross; frequently as a symbol of England or Englishness. (OED)
Contexts
While it is unclear if Anthony Van Corlaer was a real person, Spuyten Duyvil is a real place. It is a neighborhood of the Bronks, south of Riverdale and north of Harlem. Van Corlaer is widely believed to be the source of this name by New Yorkers, though, aside from the stories above, there is very little evidence of his existence.
These stories tie in with so many literary modes and tools, as well as historical events that they are a goldmine for teachers. The mythological allusions in Knickerbockers History, pairing Spyuten Duyvil and “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” (1979) by the Charlie Daniels Band, and the historical aspects of Dutch colonies or shark attacks in the United States would each make solid lesson plans on their own.
Contemporary Connections
In 2002, Ed Boland Jr. mentioned Anthony Van Corlaer as the source of the name Spuyten Duyvil in his New York Times question and answer columnF.Y.I.
.jpg){kind=link}
