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Page 41
As a citadel of the place, and a strong-hold for the preservation and
defence of every thing Dutch, the gallant Van Horne erected a lordly
mansion, with a chimney perched at every corner, which thence derived
the aristocratical name of "The House of the Four Chimneys." Hither he
transferred many of the precious reliques of New-Amsterdam; the great
round-crowned hat that once covered the capacious head of Walter the
Doubter, and the identical shoe with which Peter the Headstrong kicked
his pusillanimous councillors down-stairs. St. Nicholas, it is said,
took this loyal house under his especial protection; and a Dutch
soothsayer predicted, that as long as it should stand, Communipaw would
be safe from the intrusion either of Briton or Yankee.
In this house would the gallant Van Home and his compeers hold frequent
councils of war, as to the possibility of re-conquering the province
from the British; and here would they sit for hours, nay, days, together
smoking their pipes and keeping watch upon the growing city of New-York;
groaning in spirit whenever they saw a new house erected or ship
launched, and persuading themselves that Admiral Van Tromp would one
day or other arrive to sweep out the invaders with the broom which he
carried at his mast-head.
Years rolled by, but Van Tromp never arrived. The British strengthened
themselves in the land, and the captured city flourished under their
domination. Still, the worthies of Communipaw would not despair;
something or other, they were sure, would turn up to restore the power
of the Hogen Mogens, the Lord States-General; so they kept smoking and
smoking, and watching and watching, and turning the same few thoughts
over and over in a perpetual circle, which is commonly called
deliberating. In the mean time, being hemmed up within a narrow compass,
between the broad bay and the Bergen hills, they grew poorer and poorer,
until they had scarce the wherewithal to maintain their pipes in fuel
during their endless deliberations.
And now must I relate a circumstance which will call for a little
exertion of faith on the part of the reader; but I can only say that if
he doubts it, he had better not utter his doubts in Communipaw, as it is
among the religious beliefs of the place. It is, in fact, nothing more
nor less than a miracle, worked by the blessed St. Nicholas, for the
relief and sustenance of this loyal community.
It so happened, in this time of extremity, that in the course of
cleaning the House of the Four Chimneys, by an ignorant housewife who
knew nothing of the historic value of the reliques it contained, the old
hat of Walter the Doubter and the executive shoe of Peter the Headstrong
were thrown out of doors as rubbish. But mark the consequence. The good
St. Nicholas kept watch over these precious reliques, and wrought out of
them a wonderful providence.
The hat of Walter the Doubter falling on a stercoraceous heap of
compost, in the rear of the house, began forthwith to vegetate. Its
broad brim, spread forth grandly and exfoliated, and its round crown
swelled and crimped and consolidated until the whole became a prodigious
cabbage, rivalling in magnitude the capacious head of the Doubter. In a
word, it was the origin of that renowned species of cabbage known, by
all Dutch epicures, by the name of the Governor's Head, and which is to
this day the glory of Communipaw.
On the other hand, the shoe of Peter Stuyvesant being thrown into the
river, in front of the house, gradually hardened and concreted, and
became covered with barnacles, and at length turned into a gigantic
oyster; being the progenitor of that illustrious species known
throughout the gastronomical world by the name of the Governor's Foot.
These miracles were the salvation of Communipaw. The sages of the place
immediately saw in them the hand of St. Nicholas, and understood their
mystic signification. They set to work with all diligence to cultivate
and multiply these great blessings; and so abundantly did the
gubernatorial hat and shoe fructify and increase, that in a little time
great patches of cabbages were to be seen extending from the village of
Communipaw quite to the Bergen Hills; while the whole bottom of the
bay in front became a vast bed of oysters. Ever since that time this
excellent community has been divided into two great classes: those who
cultivate the land and those who cultivate the water. The former have
devoted themselves to the nurture and edification of cabbages, rearing
them in all their varieties; while the latter have formed parks and
plantations, under water, to which juvenile oysters are transplanted
from foreign parts, to finish their education.
As these great sources of profit multiplied upon their hands, the worthy
inhabitants of Communipaw began to long for a market at which to
dispose of their superabundance. This gradually produced once more an
intercourse with New-York; but it was always carried on by the old
people and the negroes; never would they permit the young folks, of
either sex, to visit the city, lest they should get tainted with foreign
manners and bring home foreign fashions. Even to this day, if you see an
old burgher in the market, with hat and garb of antique Dutch fashion,
you may be sure he is one of the old unconquered race of the "bitter
blood," who maintain their strong-hold at Communipaw.
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