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Page 42
In modern days, the hereditary bitterness against the English has lost
much of its asperity, or rather has become merged in a new source of
jealousy and apprehension: I allude to the incessant and wide-spreading
irruptions from New-England. Word has been continually brought back to
Communipaw, by those of the community who return from their trading
voyages in cabbages and oysters, of the alarming power which the Yankees
are gaining in the ancient city of New-Amsterdam; elbowing the genuine
Knickerbockers out of all civic posts of honor and profit; bargaining
them out of their hereditary homesteads; pulling down the venerable
houses, with crow-step gables, which have stood since the time of the
Dutch rule, and erecting, instead, granite stores, and marble banks; in
a word, evincing a deadly determination to obliterate every vestige of
the good old Dutch times.
In consequence of the jealousy thus awakened, the worthy traders from
Communipaw confine their dealings, as much as possible, to the genuine
Dutch families. If they furnish the Yankees at all, it is with inferior
articles. Never can the latter procure a real "Governor's Head," or
"Governor's Foot," though they have offered extravagant prices for the
same, to grace their table on the annual festival of the New-England
Society.
But what has carried this hostility to the Yankees to the highest pitch,
was an attempt made by that all-pervading race to get possession of
Communipaw itself. Yes, Sir; during the late mania for land speculation,
a daring company of Yankee projectors landed before the village; stopped
the honest burghers on the public highway, and endeavored to bargain
them out of their hereditary acres; displayed lithographic maps,
in which their cabbage-gardens were laid out into town lots: their
oyster-parks into docks and quays; and even the House of the Four
Chimneys metamorphosed into a bank, which was to enrich the whole
neighborhood with paper money.
Fortunately, the gallant Van Hornes came to the rescue, just as some of
the worthy burghers were on the point of capitulating. The Yankees were
put to the rout, with signal confusion, and have never since dared to
show their faces in the place. The good people continue to cultivate
their cabbages, and rear their oysters; they know nothing of banks, nor
joint stock companies, but treasure up their money in stocking-feet, at
the bottom of the family chest, or bury it in iron pots, as did their
fathers and grandfathers before them.
As to the House of the Four Chimneys, it still remains in the great and
tall family of the Van Hornes. Here are to be seen ancient Dutch corner
cupboards, chests of drawers, and massive clothes-presses, quaintly
carved, and carefully waxed and polished; together with divers thick,
black-letter volumes, with brass clasps, printed of yore in Leydon and
Amsterdam, and handed down from generation to generation, in the family,
but never read. They are preserved in the archives, among sundry old
parchment deeds, in Dutch and English, bearing the seals of the early
governors of the province.
In this house, the primitive Dutch holidays of Paas and Pinxter
are faithfully kept up; and New-Year celebrated with cookies and
cherry-bounce; nor is the festival of the blessed St. Nicholas
forgotten, when all the children are sure to hang up their stockings,
and to have them filled according to their deserts; though, it is said,
the good saint is occasionally perplexed in his nocturnal visits, which
chimney to descend.
Of late, this portentous mansion has begun to give signs of dilapidation
and decay. Some have attributed this to the visits made by the young
people to the city, and their bringing thence various modern fashions;
and to their neglect of the Dutch language, which is gradually becoming
confined to the older persons in the community. The house, too, was
greatly shaken by high winds, during the prevalence of the speculation
mania, especially at the time of the landing of the Yankees. Seeing how
mysteriously the fate of Communipaw is identified with this venerable
mansion, we cannot wonder that the older and wiser heads of the
community should be filled with dismay, whenever a brick is toppled
down from one of the chimneys, or a weather-cock is blown off from a
gable-end.
The present lord of this historic pile, I am happy to say, is calculated
to maintain it in all its integrity. He is of patriarchal age, and is
worthy of the days of the patriarchs. He has done his utmost to increase
and multiply the true race in the land. His wife has not been inferior
to him in zeal, and they are surrounded by a goodly progeny of children,
and grand-children, and great-grand-children, who promise to perpetuate
the name of Van Horne, until time shall be no more. So be it! Long may
the horn of the Van Hornes continue to be exalted in the land! Tall as
they are, may their shadows never be less! May the House of the Four
Chimneys remain for ages, the citadel of Communipaw, and the smoke of
its chimneys continue to ascend, a sweet-smelling incense in the hose of
St. Nicholas!
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