CHAPTER IX

So, after this, when you look at a picture of the Seal of New York, and see a windmill and two barrels of flour, you will remember that the windmill sails worked the mill, and the barrels were filled with flour which laid the foundation of the city's fortunes; and were put on the seal so that this fact would always be remembered. The beavers on the seal suggest the early days when the trade in beaver skins made a city possible. At one time there was a crown on the seal—a king's crown—but that gave way to an eagle when the English King no longer had a claim on New York.

Now that the province was prosperous, one would think that the people would have been quite happy. But they were not. They did not like Governor Andros because they thought that he taxed them too heavily, and they sent so many petitions to the Duke of York that, in 1681, Andros was recalled, and Colonel Thomas Dongan was appointed the new Governor. A few years later, when the Duke of York became King James II., he remembered how carefully Andros had carried out his orders, and appointed him Governor of New England; where he conducted matters so much to the satisfaction of his King that he earned the title of "The Tyrant of New England."

When Governor Dongan reached the city and announced that the Duke had instructed him to let the people have something to say as to how they should be governed, he was joyfully received. It really seemed now that everything was going to be satisfactory. But there came a sudden check. Two years after Dongan became Governor, the Duke of York was made King of England. He thereupon ordered Dongan to make all the laws himself, without regard to what the people did or did not want. The power to make the laws was a great power, but Governor Dongan was a fair and just man and did not abuse it. The year after this he granted a charter to the city, known ever since as the Dongan Charter, which was so just that it is still the base on which the rights of citizens rest.

But while Dongan was popular with the King's subjects, he became unpopular with the King. This was because he stood in the way of the plans of his royal master whenever those plans interfered with the good of the people. He must have known what the result would be. Whether he knew it or not, it came in the year 1688. The King joined the colony of New England and the colony of New York, and called this united territory New England. Dongan then ceased to be Governor, having ruled the province well.

Sir Edmund Andros, who, you will remember, had been appointed Governor of New England, had been knighted for obeying the King's commands. He now became Governor of the united provinces. He made his home in Boston, and left the care of New York to his deputy, Francis Nicholson. In this year a son was born to the English King, and the people rejoiced. But these were stormy times in England, for King James II. was a tyrant who ordered a great many of his subjects killed when they refused to believe in what he believed. And the people, grown weary and heartsick, overthrew King James and put William III. on the throne. So the sights and sounds of rejoicing over the birth of a prince were scarcely over, when the news came that James was no longer King, and New York was soon in a state of confusion.

In what had been New England before the provinces were united, the people hated Andros. They arrested him. And as they had never been in favor of uniting New England and New York, they restored their old officers and disunited the two provinces, Andros was sent a prisoner to England to give an account of his doings to King William, and New York was left without a Governor. The men who had served under King James insisted that they remain in charge of the province until King William sent new officers to replace them. But most of them wanted to have all who had had anything to do with King James put out of office at once. So those who wanted this change took charge of the city, and chose as their leader a citizen named Jacob Leisler. More than twenty years before, this Jacob Leisler had come from Holland as a soldier of the West India Company. He had left the service and had become a wealthy merchant. He had a rude manner, and but little education. He looked upon as an enemy, and as an enemy of King William, every man who did not think as he did.

The mass of the people now gathered around Leisler and became known as the Leislerian party. They selected a number of citizens, calling them the Committee of Safety, and the committee gave Leisler power to see that peace was preserved. Those who were opposed to Leisler, but who, just as strongly as he, favored King William, were called the anti-Leislerian party. These last were headed by Francis Nicholson, who had watched over the colony for Governor Andros. Nicholson finding that he had few followers, sailed for England.

Leisler had the fortifications repaired, and a battery of guns set up outside the fort. This is the battery which gave to the present locality its name, though all signs of guns have disappeared.

Leisler had an adviser in Jacob Milborne, his son-in-law, who wrote his letters, and counselled him in every way.

In December came a messenger from King William, with a commission for whoever was in charge of the city, to act until further orders. Leisler obtained possession of the commission. He became bolder after this, and showed such a disposition to do just as he pleased, that he made enemies of a great many of his friends. Advised by Milborne, he made laws, and imprisoned all those who refused to obey them or to recognize his authority. Day by day those who were opposed to Leisler and Milborne grew in numbers. Street riots occurred, and several persons were injured. Leisler's life was threatened, and he went about attended by a guard of soldiers. Finally Nicholas Bayard, who had been Mayor, and who was looked upon as leader of the anti-Leislerian party, was put in prison with some others. Bayard would doubtless have been executed had he not written an humble letter to Leisler saying that he had been in the wrong and Leisler in the right. But he wrote to save his life, not that he really believed himself to be in the wrong. He did save his life, but he was kept in jail.

Leisler's enemies continued active. They had a powerful friend in Francis Nicholson, who had reached England and had been received with favor there. He hated Leisler, and denounced him as a traitor before King William.

Leisler, after he had taken charge of the province, wrote to the King, but his letter was written in imperfect English and was not understood. Matters were in a bad state, and were daily becoming worse, when the King appointed Henry Sloughter Governor of New York.

New York in 1700

This Henry Sloughter was not a good choice. He was a worthless man, who had travelled a great deal, and had spent other people's money whenever he could get it. Now, when he could find no one in England to supply him with money, he took the post of Governor of New York, and his only thought was how much money he could wring from the people. The enemies of Leisler rejoiced at his coming, for they knew that it meant the downfall of Leisler.

Sloughter sailed for New York with a body of soldiers, but his ship was tossed about by the sea, and carried far out of its course, so that the ship of his assistant, Major Richard Ingoldsby, arrived first. But Leisler refused to give up command until Sloughter came. This was three months later, and during that time Ingoldsby and his soldiers did all they could to harass Leisler, who held possession of the little fort, and refused to give it up until he saw the King's order.

When Sloughter arrived, members of the party opposed to Leisler hurried on board the vessel, and escorted him to the City Hall, where at midnight he took the oath of office.

Within a few days Governor Sloughter and his friends met in the City Hall, where the council of the new Governor was sworn in—a council every member of which was an enemy of Leisler. Then Leisler was arrested, with his son-in-law, Milborne, and both were condemned to death as rebels. But the Governor was afraid of displeasing the King by putting Leisler to death, for, after all, Leisler was the man who had been the first to recognize the authority of King William in New York. He refused to sign the death-warrant. But the enemies of Leisler were not content. Nicholas Bayard, who had become more than ever bitter because he had been kept for thirteen months in prison, was anxious for revenge. The council urged the Governor to carry out the sentence, and he finally signed the death-warrant. Two days later Leisler and Milborne were led to execution. The scaffold had been erected in Leisler's own garden, close by where the post-office is now. The people thronged about it, standing in the cold, drizzling rain. They wept, for many of them had been on the side of Leisler.

Sloughter Signing Leisler's Death-warrant

Leisler ascended the scaffold with firm step, and looked at the people he had tried to serve.

"What I have done has been for the good of my country," he said, sadly. "I forgive my enemies, as I hope to be forgiven."

And so he died; believing that he had done his duty.

Milborne was full of hate for those who caused his death. Close by the scaffold stood Robert Livingston, a citizen who had always been strongly opposed to Leisler. To this man Milborne pointed, and fiercely cried:

"You have caused my death. For this I will impeach you before the Bar of God." And so he died.

The bodies of both men were interred close by the scaffold.

Four years later the English Parliament declared that Leisler had acted under the King's command, and had therefore been in the right, after all. So tardy justice was done to Leisler's memory.

After the death of Leisler, there was an end of open revolt, and affairs were reasonably quiet, although it was many a long year before the rancor of the late struggle and the bitter hatred of the friends and enemies of Leisler died out.

Order was restored, and attention was turned to public improvement. New streets were laid out, and markets were built. In front of the City Hall, by the water-side of Coenties Slip, there were set up a whipping-post, a cage, a pillory, and a ducking-block; which were to serve as warnings to evil-doers, and to be used in case the warning was not effective.

But Sloughter did not live to see these improvements completed. A few months after his arrival he died suddenly, so suddenly that there was a suggestion that he had been poisoned by some friend of Leisler. But it was proven that his death was a natural one, and his body was placed in a vault next to that of Peter Stuyvesant, in the Bouwerie Village church-yard.

When Benjamin Fletcher became the next Governor of New York, in the month of August, 1692, the people gave a great public dinner in his honor, and there were expressions of deep joy that so wise and good and pious a man had been sent to rule over them.

But Governor Fletcher soon came to be disliked. He tried by every means to enrich himself at the public expense. More than that, he wished to make the Church of England the only church of the province, and to have the English language the only language spoken. All of which the people did not like, for the majority of them still spoke the Dutch language and attended the Dutch church.

Governor Fletcher had great trouble in getting the Assembly (the body of men who helped him to govern the province) to agree with him, but he finally won them over in the matter of the Church of England. One of the churches built at this time was Trinity Church. It was a quaint, square building, with a tall spire—not the Trinity Church of this day, although it stood on the same spot.

Bradford's Tombstone

In the year after Fletcher came, the first printing-press was set up in the city by William Bradford, who came from Philadelphia for that purpose. He became the public printer, and afterward issued the first newspaper. He did a great deal for the general good, and when he died he was buried in Trinity Church-yard. Even now you can see the stone that marks his grave, close by the side-entrance of the present church.

During much of the time that Fletcher governed, the French in Canada were continually threatening to fight with the English in New York. There were fierce and bloody conflicts on the border, but no enemy reached the city. There was also another danger that grew stronger day by day. It came about as the result of privateering.

A privateer was a vessel which under commission from one country, carried on war with the ships of other countries. The captains were called privateers, as were the ships. These privateers were so successful that they grew bold, and instead of attacking only the ships of enemies of their country, they threw away their commissions and attacked ships of all countries for their private gain. Then they were called pirates. They became robbers and murderers, for they murdered as well as robbed. These pirates bore down upon the ships of all nations, carried off their cargoes, then sunk the vessels without knowing or caring how many were on board, that none might escape to tell the tale.

Nowhere were the pirates more daring than near the American coast. The vessels of New York merchants were burned within sight of shore, and the pirates were even bold enough to enter the harbor and seize the ships as they lay at anchor.

The officials of the province made no apparent effort to suppress these pirates. It was thought then, and has since been believed, that they assisted them, and were well paid for such help. Governor Fletcher himself was suspected of sharing in the pirate booty. Merchants who feared to carry on regular trade, as their ships were almost sure to be seized, came, after a time, to lend their aid also to the pirates, by buying their cargoes.

The Reading of Fletcher's Commission

Finally, very few ships dared to cross the ocean. Then the English Government became alarmed. A new Governor was searched for—a man strong enough to resist the bribery of pirate crews, and able to drive them off the seas. And just such a man was found.

In England there lived a man who had been a great friend of King William; who had been his friend even before he had become King. This man was Lord Bellomont. It was he who was chosen Governor in the year 1696. But it was two years after this that he reached New York. During these two years he worked hard in the interests of the province. He knew all about the pirates, and knew that it would take a strong force to subdue them. He called upon the English Government to fit out men for this purpose. But the Government had neither men, nor ships, nor guns to spare.

So Lord Bellomont decided to raise a private armed force. He got together a company, of which the King was a member, and they fitted out a strong and fast-sailing vessel called the Adventure Galley. Lord Bellomont looked about for a good captain. At last he thought he had found just the man in Captain William Kidd. Captain Kidd just at this time happened to be in London, where he was well known, and well liked. His home was in New York, where his wife and daughter lived in a fine house in Crown Street, and where he was a respected citizen. But best of all for the Company, Captain Kidd had been in command of a privateer, and knew a good deal about pirates and their ways.

And so it came about that Captain Kidd sailed away, commander of the Adventure Galley, with its crew of sixty sailors, and its thirty guns, to destroy the pirates.

Then followed a space of time during which news of the bold Captain was eagerly awaited. It came soon enough—news that was startling. Captain Kidd had been tempted by the adventurous life and great gains, and had himself turned pirate! During the next two years he was heard of as the most daring and fierce of pirates, plundering and sinking ships, until his name became a terror on the sea. He collected great treasure, and then decided to give up piracy. He returned to New York, and touched first at Gardiner's Island, a bit of land at the eastern end of Long Island. There he buried a portion of his treasure. The remainder he divided with his crew. Then he went to Boston, took a new name, and intended to live in quiet and luxury during the remainder of his life. But, unfortunately, one day Lord Bellomont was in Boston, met him, and caused his arrest. In a few months he was sent to England in chains. There he was executed.

When it was known that Captain Kidd had made a stop at Gardiner's Island, search was made there and the hidden treasure was dug up. There were rumors from time to time that Kidd and his pirate crew had stopped at points on the East River shore of the Island of Manhattan, and many men hunted that shore and sought in many places for hidden treasure, but none was ever found there.

During the time that Captain Kidd was roaming the sea, Lord Bellomont was governing New York.

Arrest of Captain Kidd

The new Governor was at first much admired. He was a fine man, with faultless manners, and a commander in every inch of his tall figure. He had hands as soft as a woman's, a kindly eye, and a gentle voice. But he could be stern, and was stern and unyielding, too, when occasion required. He dressed in better taste than anyone who had ever lived in the province, and his horses and carriage were finer than had ever before been seen in the city.

Friends of the dead Jacob Leisler had told Lord Bellomont tales of what a good man Leisler had been, and how he had been unjustly executed. So Lord Bellomont, to the end of his life, favored the friends of Leisler.

He was firmly convinced that many of the city merchants had become rich through dealings with the pirates. This belief made many enemies for him. Then, too, there were laws which would not permit merchants to trade with any country except England; hard laws, that were constantly broken, for the merchants could not see why they should not trade with anyone they saw fit. Bellomont was so strict in enforcing these laws and in collecting duties that he made more enemies, who sought his recall.

Nevertheless many improvements were carried out while Bellomont was Governor. A first effort was made to light the streets, which had, up to this time, only had the light of the moon at night. This was done by a lantern with a candle in it hung on a pole from the window of every seventh house. A night-watch was also established, consisting of four men.

After Bellomont had been Governor for a few years, what remained of the city wall was removed, and Wall Street had its beginning on the line of the old wall. The same year the old Stadt Huys was found to be in a state of decay. Then a new city hall was erected on the new Wall Street, close by where Nassau Street now touches it. There were dungeons in the new building for criminals, cells in the attic for debtors, and a court-room on the main floor.

New City Hall in Wall Street

The first library, under the name of the Corporation Library, was opened in the City Hall. This is the library that afterward became the Society Library. It is still in existence, and now has its home in University Place.

All in all, Lord Bellomont was a good Governor, who did much for the people, and much to make the city an agreeable place to live in; and there was deep regret when he died suddenly in the year 1701. He was buried in the chapel in the fort, and as an especial honor to his memory his coat-of-arms was fixed on the wall of the new City Hall in Wall Street. This was a great honor, even though the fickle people, a few years later, when a new Governor came, did tear down the arms and burn them in the street.

John Nanfan, the Lieutenant-Governor, took command of the province until news reached the city that Lord Cornbury had been appointed Governor. Nicholas Bayard, who had made such a bitter fight against Leisler, and who had been imprisoned so long, hated Governor Nanfan, because Nanfan was a friend of the people who called themselves the Leislerian party. So Bayard sent an address to Lord Cornbury saying that Nanfan was an enemy. But Nanfan arrested Bayard, and had him tried under the self-same act under which Leisler had been tried. This act pronounced traitors anyone who should make an effort to disturb the peace of the province. Bayard was sentenced to death, but a reprieve was granted pending the pleasure of the King. Before word could be got to England, Lord Cornbury arrived. Bayard was promoted to a place of honor, and there was a scattering of the Leislerians, who were now looked upon as enemies of the Government.

Fort George in 1740

It was in the year that Princess Anne became Queen of England (1702) that Edward Hyde, Lord Cornbury, eldest son of the Earl of Clarendon, was sent to govern New York. He was a cousin of the Queen, and left England to escape the demands of those to whom he owed money.

When Lord Cornbury arrived in New York, the Mayor, with much ceremony, presented him with a box of gold, containing the freedom of the city, which gave to him every privilege. It was a great deal of trouble and expense to go to, for the Governor would have taken all the privileges, even if the Mayor had not gone through the form of giving them.

Governor Cornbury very soon let his new subjects see that he was eager to acquire wealth, and that he intended to get it without the slightest regard for their interests or desires.

The Queen had told him that he should do all in his power to make the Church of England the established church of the land; that he should build new churches, punish drunkenness, swearing, and all such vices, and that he should keep the colony supplied with negro slaves.

There was much sickness in the town—so much that it became epidemic. So the Governor and his council went to the little village of Jamaica, on Long Island, and carried on the business of the city in a Presbyterian church building. When the epidemic had passed, he gave the church to the Episcopalians, because he remembered that Queen Anne had told him to make the Church of England the established church. There were riotous times in Jamaica after that, but the Episcopal clergyman occupied the house, and the Episcopalians worshipped in the church regardless of all protests.

Not many improvements were made during Lord Cornbury's administration. He cared little for the good of the city or for anything else except his own pleasures. The constant fear of war gave the people little time to think of improvements. They did, however, pave Broadway from Trinity Church to the Bowling Green. But do not imagine that this pavement was anything like those of to-day. It was of cobble-stones, and the gutters ran through the middle of the street.

The Governor came to be detested more and more by the people, for as the years went by he spent their money recklessly. He had a habit of walking about the fort in the dress of a woman, and another habit of giving dinners to his friends that lasted well on toward morning, when the guests sang and shouted so boisterously that the quiet citizens of the little town could not sleep.

So when the people grew very, very tired of it, they sent word to Queen Anne that her kinsman was a very bad Governor. And she, after much hesitation, when he had been Governor six years, removed him from office. She no sooner did this, than those to whom he owed money, and there were a great many of them, had him put in the debtors' prison, in the upper story of the City Hall in Wall Street. And in jail he remained for several months, until his father, the Earl of Clarendon, died, and money was sent for the release of the debtor prisoner, who was now a peer of Great Britain.

View in Broad Street about 1740

The new Governor arrived in the last months of the year 1708. He was John, Lord Lovelace. As there had been so much trouble caused by the governors appropriating money belonging to the citizens, he decided to take a very different course. He had the public accounts looked into, and said, "I wish it known to all the world that the public debt has not been contracted in my time." And having said this (which made a fine impression) the Governor asked the Assembly to set aside enough money for him to run the affairs of the province for a number of years. This was to be called a permanent revenue. But the Assembly would do no such thing. In the midst of the discussion, Governor Lovelace died, five months after his arrival.

It was quite a year after the death of Lovelace before his successor came. This was Robert Hunter, a most exceptional man. His parents were poor, and when a boy he had run away from home and had joined the British army. By working very hard at his books when the army was not fighting, by studying in the soldiers' quarters and on the battle-field, by making friends with officers of high rank, Hunter had grown to manhood brave, well educated, and of graceful manner. On coming to New York he at once made friends with many influential persons. His most important friendship was with Lewis Morris, whom he afterward appointed chief-justice. This Morris was a son of Richard Morris, an officer in Cromwell's army, who had come to the province, purchased a manor ten miles square near Harlem, and called it Morrisania—by which name it is still known.

The year after Hunter arrived, New York joined with New England in a plan to conquer Canada (which belonged to the French) and join it to the English colonies. Money was raised, troops were gotten together, and ships and soldiers were sent from England. But when the attack was to be made, the English ships struck on the rocks in a fog off the coast of Canada, and eight of them sank with more than 800 men. This great loss put an end to the intended invasion. The soldiers returned home, where there was great sorrow at the dismal failure of a project that had cost so much money and so many lives.

Governor Hunter had only been in the province a short time when he began to urge the Assembly to grant him that permanent revenue that Lovelace had asked for. Queen Anne had said that he was to have it. But the Assembly would only grant him money from year to year.

About this time the first public market for the sale of negro slaves was established at the foot of Wall Street. More and more slaves were brought into the city, and the laws were made more and more strict to keep them in the most abject bondage. It had come to be the law that no more than four slaves could meet together at one time. They were not permitted to pass the city gates, nor to carry weapons of any sort. Should one appear on the street after nightfall without a lighted lantern, he was put in jail and his master was fined. Sometimes a slave murdered his owner. Then he was burned at the stake, after scarcely the pretence of a trial; or was suspended from the branches of a tall tree and left there to die.

The Slave-Market. From an Old Print

But although the slaves were restrained and beaten and killed, their numbers increased so fast that the citizens were always in fear that they might one day rise up and kill all their masters. A riot did occur the year after the slave-market was set up. Several white men were killed and a house was burned. Many negroes were then arrested and nineteen of them were executed under a charge of having engaged in a plot against the whites.

Affairs moved along quietly for a time after the riot. The next most interesting happening was the putting up of the first public clock, on the City Hall in Wall Street. It was the gift of Stephen De Lancey.

De Lancey was a Huguenot nobleman, who had fled from France when the Huguenots were persecuted for their faith, and had found a home in the new world. He lived in a mansion at the corner of what are now Pearl and Broad Streets. The house is there yet, still called Fraunces's Tavern from the owner who turned it into a tavern after De Lancey removed from it.

Governor Hunter was becoming very popular with the people, when unfortunately his health failed. So he surrendered the government into the hands of Peter Schuyler, who was the oldest member in the City Council, and went to Europe, having served for nine years. For thirteen months Schuyler took charge, until William Burnet, the new Governor, replaced him.

Fraunces's Tavern

Governor William Burnet was the son of a celebrated bishop of England.

His early days were passed at the Court of William III., where he met people of refinement and culture. Of an observing nature, and studying a great deal, he came to be a man of deep learning, a good talker, with manners that attracted attention wherever he went—so fine were they.

The city was gayly decorated in honor of his coming. Women looked from their windows and waved their handkerchiefs. Men crowded the streets and loudly shouted their welcome.

Soon after, he married the daughter of a leading merchant, and so identified himself at once with the city's interests. He became the fast friend of Chief-Justice Lewis Morris. Another friendship was that he formed with Dr. Cadwallader Colden. We shall hear more of this man later. Besides being a physician of note, he had a world-wide reputation as a writer on many scientific subjects.

Along about this time the French were trying hard to get all the trade with the Indians, not only in the province of New York, but in all the lands as far west as the Mississippi country that was then wild and unexplored. By this they could make a great deal of money, but, better still, would make friends of the powerful Indian tribes. Then the French hoped that the Indians would join with them against the English and that they could conquer all the English lands in America.

The New York merchants were quite content to let the French do the trading with the Indians, for the French traders bought all their goods in New York, and the merchants in selling to them did not run the great risk of being murdered, as they would in trading with the Indians in the forests. But although the merchants were satisfied, Governor Burnet was not. He realized the danger to the English provinces should the Indians become enemies. So he decided to establish a line of English trading stations that would enable the colonists to trade directly with the Indians in safety. He also made it unlawful to sell goods in New York to the French traders.

The merchants bitterly disapproved of these acts of Governor Burnet. They believed that he had dealt a death-blow to their French trade, and they became his bitter enemies. He tried hard to establish the line of trading stations, but the English Government refused to help him with money, and the project had to be abandoned, and the law against the French trade, which had caused the trouble, was repealed. The trade was once more carried on.

By this time George II. had become King of England, which was in the year 1728. Influence was brought to bear, and Governor Burnet was removed, and left the province a poorer man than he had entered it.

Toward the end of this same year Colonel John Montgomery was made Governor.

He had been groom of the bedchamber of George II. when the latter was Prince of Wales. He was a weak and lazy man, although he had been bred a soldier. You may believe that he never did much in the soldiering line, for a soldier's life is a hard one, and not likely to encourage a man to be lazy. Montgomery was given a cordial welcome, however.

The year after he came, the first Jewish cemetery was established, the remains of which may still be seen in the neighborhood of Chatham Square in New Bowery Street. It has not been used as a graveyard in many a year, and much of the ground is now occupied by buildings. But there is still a portion, behind a stone wall, and crumbling tombstones have stood there ever so many years longer than the dingy tenements which hem them in on three sides.

In the days of Montgomery, New York was still a small village, for most of the houses were below the present Fulton Street, and they were not at all thickly built, so there was room enough for pleasant gardens around them.

At this time the vacant space in front of the fort, which had been used as a parade-ground and a market-place, was leased to three citizens whose houses were nearby to be used as a Bowling Green. Its name came from this and it still keeps it.

A fire department was organized and two engines were imported and room made for them in the City Hall. Before this the department had consisted of a few leather buckets and a few fire-hooks.

In 1731 Governor Montgomery died, and for thirteen months after, Rip Van Dam, oldest member of the council, and a wealthy merchant, looked after the province until the coming of William Cosby.

Cosby arrived; a testy, disagreeable man who loved money above everything else. The colonists received him with favor, because they did not know these things about him. The Assembly granted him a revenue for six years, and gave him a present of £750 besides. The Governor thought this a very small sum and said so. He presented an order from the King which said that he was to have half the salary that Rip Van Dam had received for acting as Governor.

Dinner at Rip Van Dam's

But Van Dam would not part with his money, and the people sided with him, for they had long been weary of governors who looked upon the colony simply as a means to repair their fortunes. Cosby was determined to get the money, so he sued Van Dam. This suit was conducted in a court where there were three judges, and two of them were friends of Cosby. One of them was James De Lancey, a son of that Stephen De Lancey who had given the clock to the city. The Chief-Justice was still Lewis Morris, who had been appointed by Governor Hunter. So with two judges, friends of the Governor, he won his suit, and Van Dam was ordered to pay him half his salary.

More than this, Chief-Justice Morris, who had disagreed with the other two judges, was removed from office, and James De Lancey became Chief-Justice.

The mass of the people disapproved of these doings, and there were murmurs of discontent. But the Governor had his money, and had made his friend Chief-Justice, and was running matters pretty much his own way, so he was satisfied.

There was still only one paper, theNew York Gazette, published by William Bradford. As Bradford was the Government printer, it was quite natural that he should side with Cosby. But just at this time another paper came into existence, a rival to theGazette, which took up the people's cause. This was theNew York Weekly Journal, published by Peter Zenger, who had been one of Bradford's workmen. Each week it was filled with articles assailing Cosby, and all who were in sympathy with him. Very soon Zenger was arrested, charged with publishing libels against the city officials and the King. He was locked up in one of the cells in the City Hall.

The friends of Zenger secretly secured the services of Andrew Hamilton, a distinguished lawyer of Philadelphia, who pleaded his cause to good effect, and showed that Zenger had only spoken as any man had a right to speak, and had pointed out wrongs where wrongs existed. Justice De Lancey, remembering that his friend the Governor had made him Chief-Justice, told the jury that they must find Zenger guilty. But the jury pronounced him not guilty. Thus the freedom of the press was established, and the jury, by their verdict, had opposed the Governor, his council, the Assembly, and the judge before whom the accused had been tried.

About this time Lord Augustus Fitzroy, youngest son of the Duke of Grafton, came from England to visit Governor Cosby. The Governor thanked him for having honored New York with his presence, and told him that the city was open and invited him to go where he pleased. Lord Augustus did not go far. He fell in love with the Governor's daughter. He did more than fall in love, for one day he induced a minister to climb over the fort wall and marry him to her, without leave or license. The friends of the young nobleman were shocked, for the Governor's daughter was considered beneath him in rank. Governor Cosby was accused of having brought about this unequal match, although Lord Augustus said that it was the lady's winning ways and pretty face.

Cosby, after the Zenger trial, did what he could to check the liberty of the citizens, but was soon stricken with a fatal illness. On his death-bed he called together the members of his council, and suspended his old enemy, Rip Van Dam, who would have been his successor until another Governor was appointed. And having done this he died, on March 10, 1736, leaving a quarrelsome state of affairs behind him.

The citizens were so far from being pleased when they learned that Rip Van Dam was not to act in the Governor's place, that, for a time, it looked very much as though there would be a riot. There was a member of the Assembly named George Clarke, and when his fellow-members chose him for the place that Rip Van Dam should have had, there was more grumbling. But as no Governor came from England for seven years, Clarke looked after the province all that time. He was an easy-going man, who tried by every possible means to make friends. There was one happening in particular by which he is remembered. It was called the Negro Plot.

Slaves had been brought to the city, until now there were 2,000 of them. The 8,000 citizens were in constant dread lest the negroes should some day rise up in revolt. Early in the spring of the year 1741 several fires occurred in different parts of the city, and the citizens felt quite sure that the slaves had started them. As the hours passed, the idea of a plot grew until it seemed a fact. Then a reward was offered to anyone who would tell of a conspiracy or of anyone concerned in one.

Just at this time a woman was arrested for a small theft, and when she heard of the reward, she all at once remembered that there had been meetings of negroes at a small tavern where she had worked. She told of a plan to kill every white person; to set all the negroes free, and to make one of them King of the city. The woman who told this story was Mary Burton. The tavern-keeper, his wife, and several other negroes were hanged in short order. Still the fires kept on. There were dozens within ten days, and among others the Governor's house in the fort was burned to the ground.

The Negroes Sentenced

Mary Burton now began a remarkable series of confessions which grew wilder with each passing day. Negro slaves accused by her were arrested in numbers. Liberty was promised all who would speak the truth, and speaking the truth was understood to mean giving information of a conspiracy. Very soon several negroes were burned at the stake in a little valley beyond the Collect Pond. This awful death frightened many, who hastened to cry out that they knew all about the plot. There were some who saved their lives by confessing things that were not true; many more did not.

During the whole long, hot summer the hanging and burning of negro slaves went on. Late in the year, when Mary Burton had seen every person she had accused arrested, she grew more bold. She sought some new story to tell, and found one in remembering for the first time that white people had been connected with the plot. Twenty-four white citizens had been arrested, when Mary Burton began to attack prominent townsmen; even those who had been foremost in the prosecution of the negroes. It was only then realized that the woman's words could not be relied upon. She was paid the hundred pounds that had been promised her, and she disappeared, leaving no trace.

Gradually the fury of feeling against the slaves died away. Whether there had ever been any real plot will always remain unanswered.

Certain it is, however, that the witnesses on whose words arrests were made were all of uncertain and unreliable character; that the evidence was contradictory, and that most of it was extorted under pain of death.

The excitement passed away after a time, and George Clarke went on talking finely and managing his own affairs so well that he was growing very rich indeed when his official life came to a sudden end.

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