King William's War Page 4
If Lauson was skeptical of the colony’s good fortune, this was soon set aside as the Oneida, agreeing to the peace proposal, dispatched an embassy to Montreal. As a gesture of their sincerity, the Oneida representatives informed the town’s governor, Paul de Maisonneuve, that six hundred Mohawk had recently set out with the intention of capturing and burning Three Rivers. Maisonneuve immediately forwarded the information to Quebec, whereupon Lauson arranged a rude surprise for the raiders, killing a good number of them and capturing several of their sachems.2
The military setback, and the political pressures brought to bear by the remaining members of the confederacy, convinced the Mohawk to join the peace accord. By the first week of September ambassadors from each of the Five Nations had arrived in Quebec, and by early November the treaty had been signed. For the denizens of New France the turn of events was nothing short of stunning. “It is the Iroquois that have made peace,” one French chronicler concluded. “Or, rather, let us say that it is God; for this stroke is so sudden, this change so unexpected, these tendencies in Barbarian minds so surprising, that, it must be admitted, a genius more exalted than that of man has guided this work.”3
Indeed, the turn of events was puzzling. Within a few months the entire Iroquois Confederacy, on the verge of annihilating New France, had reversed its stance. The reasons for this are unclear. Certainly the Seneca, faced with a potential war with the Erie, had the best reasons to seek peace. The Cayuga, influenced by their more powerful brothers, seemed to have simply followed suit, but the reasons for remaining elements of the confederacy to seek peace are not clear. The Mohawk were clearly pressured into the arrangement, and the Oneida convinced after the subject was first broached. This leaves the Onondaga at the heart of the question. This is the same nation that proved so receptive to Huron peace overtures, which forced the Mohawk and Seneca to take more drastic action toward the Huron. The reasons for the Onondaga peace initiative, including threats posed to the tribe by the Erie and Susquehannock, the military commitment and smaller size of the tribe, the opening of trade, and political opposition to what they viewed as Mohawk attempts to lead the confederacy, certainly played a part in opening a dialog with the French, but another reason played an important role as well—fear for their Dutch trading partners.
The late 1640s proved a prosperous time for New Netherland. The end of the ruinous wars under Kieft had allowed the colony to expand and return to some sense of normalcy. At Fort Orange, which had seen little change from these conflicts, the Iroquois wars of expansion had led to an explosion in the fur trade. These wars had also led to an increased Iroquois demand for firearms and powder, which the Dutch traders were more than happy to accommodate. All, however, was not well in New Netherland. Although Iroquois successes had led to a steady stream of furs, it also created a number of problems. First, Iroquois demands for firearms were putting a strain on the supply in New Netherland, such that it became necessary for the government to begin to supply these weapons. Second, the enemies of the Iroquois, looking to launch raids into the Mohawk homelands, had approached Governor Stuyvesant to ask for permission to cross the Hudson during these raids. Stuyvesant had politely refused, but the matter made it clear that one day the Iroquois’s enemies might view the Dutch as their enemies as well. There were also many older unresolved issues with local tribes that periodically exploded into violence and threatened to engulf the colony in another general conflict. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, the English colonies of New England were beginning to press on the northeastern borders of New Netherland.
In mid-1652 the first of three wars broke out between the Dutch and the English. In New Netherland the immediate effects were not military in nature but economic. English coastal and high seas raiders began seizing merchant vessels, slowly cutting into the supply line from Holland and the export of furs. For the traders at Fort Orange this translated into a shortage of muskets and powder, so much so that they convinced Stuyvesant to release firearms from the armory at Fort Amsterdam for trade with the Iroquois, lest the latter turn to the English.
By 1654 matters took a turn for the worse when a dubious paper began to circulate, claiming that the Dutch planned to incite an Indian uprising against the English inhabitants of the Connecticut River valley. The paper, along with a few well-placed words from leading English colonists, reached the ear of Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell. Cromwell responded by dispatching four frigates and two hundred troops under the command of Captain John Leverett and Major Robert Sedgwick to assist the New Englanders in the subjugation of New Netherland. The English fleet reached Boston in June, where it found a populace more than willing to assist in the conquest. The muster drums were beat and corner criers called upon the men of New England to join the crusade against the Dutch. By mid-July the efforts had netted 633 volunteers, including a troop of horse, which, along with the necessary supplies, were loaded onto the English warships.4
The news set off a panic throughout the Dutch colony. The defenses of New Amsterdam had been supplemented by a palisade and shallow ditch a few years before, but otherwise little had been done to strengthen the defenses of the town. Stuyvesant set crews to work repairing the dilapidated shell of Fort Amsterdam, but it had to be done secretly so as not to alarm the inhabitants, most of whom it was known would not fight against such overwhelming odds. There were also problems within the colony. The English residents of Long Island, who were almost as numerous as the Dutch of the region, were known to be sympathetic to their country’s cause and might openly revolt at any time. With only a hundred soldiers to man a crumbling fort, and a militia unlikely to answer a call to arms, New Amsterdam appeared doomed.
Luck, however, was on Stuyvesant’s side. As the English fleet was preparing to embark, a London merchant ship arrived at Boston with news that the war was over. A day later the news reached New Amsterdam, much to the relief of the residents and their governor. New Netherland had been spared but at a cost. The English had previously seized Fort Good Hope, which signaled the beginning of the end for Dutch settlements in the Connecticut River valley.5
For the Iroquois, Dutch affairs and the shortage of firearms was a matter of pronounced concern. Firearm prices steadily increased with the rupture of the colony’s supply lines by the English, making French firearms, if they could be obtained, more attractive. In addition, serious questions about the ultimate fate of the colony, and perhaps its conquest by the English, who had traditionally supplied the Iroquois enemies, made seeking markets with the French even more important. It is in this uncertainty that we see the real motive behind the Iroquois peace initiative with New France.
Within a year and a half the Onondaga had successfully bartered for French muskets and soon after began to press the French for help against their traditional enemies. The peace also brought opportunity for the Iroquois, for it had not included the French allies beyond those living in the immediate vicinity of the colony, such as the Huron of Lorette. This loophole allowed the Iroquois to pursue their original plan to dominate the northern fur trade and force economic concessions from the French by closing the routes to Montreal as they had done in the past. Initially at least, the Iroquois were not successful in implementing their old plan. Nor were efforts to convince the French to lend the Five Nations assistance fruitful, despite repeated urgings. Much of this help concerned the Iroquois’s ongoing conflict with the Susquehannock, who the French knew were being supported by the English. Clearly at this stage no one within the confines of the colony saw a benefit in a possible confrontation with any of the English colonies.
Instead, the reprieve granted by the peace of 1653 was embraced by the French and their immediate allies. Commerce once again began to flow and the fields were tended to with far less consternation, but as with the previous peace treaties, such an arrangement was short-lived. Although the Iroquois had successfully destroyed the Huron fur monopoly, they had failed to divert it toward themselves. Instead, the Ottawa, located north of the Huron home
lands and much harder for the warriors of the longhouse to reach, happily filled this economic vacuum. In 1654 and again in 1656 large fur fleets descended the Ottawa River hauling their profitable cargo ashore at Montreal, and as in the aftermath of the previous peace treaty in 1645, the Iroquois were once again excluded from this trade.
By the summer of 1656 it was clear to even the Onondaga that the peace was a failure. Control of the northern fur trade still eluded them, and although they had granted the French peace they were still unable to secure commercial concessions from them to gain access to this trade. Matters with the Erie and even the Susquehannock had been settled, with the Iroquois victorious in both cases. With these two conflicts resolved, and a stable Dutch source of firearms reestablished, it was time to return to the old path. Soon raiding parties were scouring the upper St. Lawrence and Ottawa Rivers, severing the peace and once again cutting the flow of furs to New France.
The termination of the 1653 peace accord came as no surprise to the French. In reality the raiding had never really stopped, but the scale and frequency of the attacks had decreased. The colony had used the time allotted to it to increase its numbers and bolster its defenses, but even so, some of the darkest days of the settlement lay ahead. For New France’s native allies, who had not been included in the treaty, the attacks increased in focus and fury. Between 1656 and 1665 the Five Nations launched no less than forty expeditions against the French and some thirty more against her allies. Montreal and Three Rivers found themselves in a perpetual state of siege, and the fur trade had devolved to a shadow of its former self. “I would almost as soon be besieged by Goblins as by the Iroquois,” one observer noted. “The latter are hardly more visible than the former.”6
The end result was a large swath of Iroquois-controlled territory running from the Ottawa River in the east to the shores of Lake Michigan in the west. But all was not well with the Five Nations. By the mid-1660s a series of events had drained Iroquois resources. They began with a series of military setbacks. In 1661, two Mohawk expeditions were defeated, the first by Mahican-led forces and the second by the French-allied Ottawa. The latter, coupled with more determined French resistance, were able to use their victory to expel the Iroquois from the lower Ottawa River valley and reestablish direct communications with their French allies. A new conflict with the English-armed Western Abenaki in 1663 fared poorly as well, and raids against Algonquin New England tribes spawned a series of counter raids that penetrated deep into the Mohawk heartland. Resources were also being drawn away as the Five Nations resumed their long struggle against the southern Susquehannock and Delaware tribes, who began intercepting Seneca trading parties bound for Fort Orange and struck with such ferocity that the Cayuga were forced to move farther north.
As severe as the military toll was on the Five Nations, far more damaging was the arrival of European plagues in 1662. There are few records from the time to give an accurate tally of the devastation wrought on the Iroquois nations, but the fact that Jesuit missionaries recorded baptizing three hundred dying infants in one village during the height of the epidemic gives a sense of its scope. If these events were not enough, two more were forming that would alter the future of the confederacy.
The late 1650s and early 1660s were a trying time for New Netherland as well. Having narrowly avoided an English invasion in 1655 Governor Stuyvesant turned his attention toward colonial rival New Sweden on the Delaware River. The two colonies had been arguing over land claims and trade for over a decade before Stuyvesant finally decided to settle the issue with force. The tiny Swedish colony, which numbered no more than a few hundred, surrendered in a few weeks and became part of New Netherland. This matter had no sooner been settled when the specter of another Indian war struck the Dutch. Reminiscent of Kieft’s conflicts, a dozen tribes along the lower Hudson River, many still embittered by the previous conflicts, unleashed their fury on the colony. Once again settlers found themselves abandoning their farms and villages as nearly two thousand natives drove them into the confines of New Amsterdam.
Realizing that the colony could not afford another Indian conflict Stuyvesant negotiated a peace that restored some sense of calm. It was an unsteady arrangement, and four years later it was broken when five hundred Esopus braves launched an attack on the village of Esopus and its outlying communities. Panic once again ensued, but this time the Dutch responded with a military expedition of their own, which brought the tribe to the peace table the next year. It was perhaps too optimistic to believe that the treaty would hold. On June 7, 1663, the Esopus Indians, still smarting under their past differences with the Dutch, once again launched a surprise attack on the village of Esopus. While the bulk of the male population of the town tended to their fields, a large number of natives entered the village under the pretext of trading with the settlers. The normal routine of the day was soon shattered by war whoops and the sound of gunfire. Ambushes were laid for the men returning from the fields while the town suffered the wrath of the onslaught. Those left in the village eventually rallied and drove off the attackers but not before thirty of their number lay scattered among the ruins, many burnt beyond recognition, while another thirty-four, primarily women and children, were led away into captivity. The Dutch response to the Second Esopus War was much different than the first. The scale and scope of the massacre at Esopus left no questions as to the aim of the outcome—that being the total elimination of the Esopus Indians and their allies. The fact that the Esopus Indians had broken the Mohawk-Mahican-brokered peace treaty politically isolated the tribe, which facilitated the effort, and by the end of the year the task had been accomplished.7
For the two thousand or so Dutch settlers of Orange, as the village about the fort became known, the fury of the Esopus Wars was a removed distraction. Safely nestled within Mohawk territory, they had little to fear from the southern river tribes, who had no intention of provoking their much stronger Iroquois neighbors. The problems these settlers faced were more of an economic nature. Iroquois setbacks directly translated into falling fur profits. Still, this was viewed in the light that 1663 had proved an exceptionally difficult year for the colony. The year had begun with an earthquake that rattled the Hudson valley and was followed by unusually heavy rains that flooded the river and carried away the already-sown crops. A smallpox epidemic was next, striking just before the outbreak of the Esopus conflict.
With the turn of the new year hope once again returned to the Dutch colony. The smallpox epidemic had subsided, and when the spring rains came it was clear that the deluge of the previous year would not return. Reports also arrived that a massive Seneca war party was bound for the Susquehannock homelands, an event that would certainly reverse the falling fortunes of the Iroquois. Optimism took hold and it seemed that opportunities abounded. That is until news arrived that an English fleet was bearing down on New Amsterdam.
Stuyvesant had heard rumors that things were not well between Holland and England, but he did not know until word of the English fleet reached him that war had once again broken out between the two nations. The governor, who was at Fort Orange at the time, raced down the Hudson for New Amsterdam, calling out the militias of the towns along the way and ordering them to rendezvous at Fort Amsterdam. Most nodded at the orders but did little else. A war between New Netherland and the English colonies was one-sided enough, but with Old England now involved no one was interested in participating in such a lopsided affair.
The governor reached New Amsterdam in time to watch the English fleet, which consisted of three frigates, a brig, and a number of support vessels carrying three hundred troops, drop anchor before Manhattan. With little in the way of time before him Stuyvesant began organizing a hasty defense. The town’s militia was called out and every third man within the limits of New Amsterdam was ordered to begin work on the city’s defenses with spade, shovel, or wheelbarrow. Carriages were hurriedly constructed for eight cannon that were to be added to Fort Amsterdam’s current complement of fourteen, w
hile on the land side of the island work was started on a trench and a crude breastwork.
On September 2, after having seized Staten Island, the English commander, Major Richard Nicolls, demanded the surrender of New Amsterdam. A parley ensued over the next few days in which representatives, acting on the governor’s behalf, presented legal arguments as to the validity of Dutch claims to the colony. Nicolls politely listened to their assertions and when it came time for his response he informed the delegates with a shrug that such arguments were reserved for heads of state. As far as he was concerned his king had ordered him to seize New Amsterdam and that was his intention. Searching for an opening the envoys replied, “Friends will be welcome if they come in a friendly manner.” Nicolls, however, irritated with the delays responded sarcastically, “I shall come with my ships and soldiers, and he will be a bold messenger, indeed, who shall then dare to come on board and solicit terms.” When the dejected Dutch deputies threw up their arms and asked, “What, then, is to be done?” Nicolls ended the meeting with, “Hoist the white flag of peace at the fort, and then I may take something into consideration.”8
Nicolls’s response left Stuyvesant in a precarious position. Fort Amsterdam was a dilapidated structure incapable of surviving more than a few cannon shots before collapsing, and mounting only a few light brass cannon it was doubtful whether it could even damage the English warships, which bore ten times as many guns of a much larger caliber. Not that it would matter: the master gunner had estimated that there was only enough powder for a day’s firing. The fort’s company of 150 soldiers could be counted on to fight, but the 250 or so militia of New Amsterdam had refused to risk their lives in such a one-sided affair. All work on the city’s defenses had stopped and not a single burgher would answer the call to arms. Still, Stuyvesant was determined to resist. An old soldier, he was loathe to give up without a fight. The cannon were loaded and the smell of lit matches drifted on the fine autumn breeze as several leading citizens pleaded with the governor not to undertake such a folly. Perceiving that Stuyvesant was determined to resist, Nicolls began landing troops below Breukelen on September 4 and ordered a pair of frigates to take up firing positions before the fort. Surveying the warships from a vantage point in one of the angles of the fort the governor finally bowed to the hopelessness of the situation and signaled for the Dutch flag to be replaced with a white one.9