



Produced by Richard Prairie, David Moynihan, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team









                                    THE

                                GREAT RIOTS

                                    OF

                                 NEW YORK

                               1712 to 1873

                   INCLUDING A FULL AND COMPLETE ACCOUNT

                                  OF THE

                       FOUR DAYS' DRAFT RIOT OF 1863

                           By HON. J.T. HEADLEY


                                    TO

                         THE METROPOLITAN POLICE,

                                   WHOSE

                UNWAVERING FIDELITY AND COURAGE IN THE PAST,

                 ARE A SURE GUARANTEE OF WHAT THEY WILL DO

                                    FOR

                       NEW YORK CITY IN THE FUTURE,

                                 THIS WORK

                         IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED

                                    BY

                                THE AUTHOR.


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

1. BURNING OF THE PROVOST-MARSHAL'S OFFICE

2. THE OLD NEW YORK HOSPITAL, SCENE OF THE DOCTORS' RIOT

3.  ORPHAN ASYLUM (ERECTED SINCE THE RIOT)

4. HEADQUARTERS METROPOLITAN POLICE

5. HEADQUARTERS METROPOLITAN FIRE DEPARTMENT

6. FORT LAFAYETTE, NEW YORK HARBOR

7. FORT HAMILTON, NEW YORK HARBOR

8. SCENE IN LEXINGTON AVENUE

9. ATTACK ON THE TRIBUNE OFFICE

10. FIGHT BETWEEN RIOTERS AND MILITIA

11. HANGING AND BURNING A <DW64> IN CLARKSON STREET

12. THE DEAD SERGEANT IN TWENTY-SECOND STREET

13. DRAGGING COLONEL O'BRIEN'S BODY IN THE STREET

14. BURNING SECOND AVENUE ARMORY

15. RECEIVING DEAD BODIES AT THE MORGUE

PREFACE.

The materials for the descriptions of the <DW64> and Doctors' Riots
were gathered from the Archives of the Historical Society; those of the
immediately succeeding ones, from the press of the times.

For the scenes and incidents that occurred on the stage and behind
the curtain in the Astor-place Opera Riot, I am indebted to a pamphlet
entitled "_Behind the Scenes_."

The materials for the history of the Draft Riots were obtained in
part from the Daily Press, and in part from the City and Military
Authorities, especially Commissioner Acton, Seth Hawley, General Brown,
and Colonel Frothingham, who succeeded in putting them down.

Mr. David Barnes, who published, some ten years ago, a pamphlet entitled
"The Metropolitan Police," kindly furnished me facts relating to the
Police Department of great value, and which saved me much labor and
time.

Much difficulty has been encountered in gathering together, from various
quarters, the facts spread over a century and a half, but it is believed
that everything necessary to a complete understanding of the subjects
treated of has been given, consistent with the continuity and interest
of the narrative.

Of course some minor riots--a collection of mobs that were easily
dispersed by the police, and were characterized by no prolonged struggle
or striking incidents--are not mentioned.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

Character of a City illustrated by Riots.--New Material for History of
Draft Riots.--History of the Rebellion incomplete without History of
them.--The Fate of the Nation resting on the Issues of the Struggle in
New York City.--The best Plan to adopt for Protection against Mobs.

CHAPTER II.

THE <DW64> RIOTS OF 1712-1741.

Almost impossible for the present Generation to comprehend its true
Character and Effect on the People.--Description of New York at that
Time.--The <DW64> Slaves.--The <DW64> Riot of 1712.--Description
of it.--The Winter of 1741.--Governor's House burned down.--Other
Fires.--Suspicion of the People.--Arrest and Imprisonment of the
Blacks.--Reward offered for the supposed Conspirators.--Alarm and Flight
of the Inhabitants.--Examination and Confession of Mary
Burton.--Peggy, the Newfoundland Beauty, and the Hughson Family.--The
Conspiracy.--Executions.--Fast.--Hughson's Hearing.--Hung in
Chains.--The Body, and that of a <DW64>, left to swing and rot in the
Air.--Strange Change in the Appearances of the Bodies.--The People
throng to look at them.--<DW64>s burned at the Stake.--Terrific
Spectacle.--Bloody Summer.--Execution of a Catholic Priest.--Strange
Scenes.--Upper Classes accused.--Executions stopped.--Reason of the
Panic.

CHAPTER III.

THE STAMP-ACT RIOT OF 1765.

Thorough Understanding of the Principles of Liberty by the People.--The
Stamp Act.--How viewed by the Colonists.--Colden strengthens Fort George
in Alarm.--Arrival of the Stamps.--How the News was received by the Sons
of Liberty.--A Bold Placard.--Stamp Distributor frightened.--Patriotic
Action of the Merchants.--Public Demonstration against the Stamp
Act.--Colden takes Refuge in the Fort.--Dare not fire on the
People.--The People at the Gate demand the Stamps.--Colden and Lord Bute
hung in Effigy.--Colden's Coach-house broken open.--The Images placed in
the Coach, and dragged with Shouts through the Streets.--Hung again in
Sight of the Fort.--A Bonfire made of the Fence around Bowling
Green, and the Governor's Carriages, while the Garrison look silently
on.--Prejudice against Coaches.--Major James' House sacked.--Great Joy
and Demonstration at the Repeal of the Stamp Act.--Celebration of the
King's Birthday.--Loyalty of the People.--Mutiny Act.--A Riot becomes a
Great Rebellion.

CHAPTER IV.

DOCTORS' RIOT, 1788.

Body-snatching.--Bodies dug up by Medical Students.--Excitement of the
People.--Effect of the Discovery of a human Limb from the Hospital.--Mob
ransack the Building.--Destruction of Anatomical Specimens.--Arrival
of Mayor, and Imprisonment of Students.--Second Day.--Examination
of Columbia College and Physicians' Houses.--Appeal of the Mayor and
distinguished Citizens to the Mob.--Mob attempt to break into Jail and
seize the Students.--The Fight.--The Military called out.--Beaten by the
Mob.--Larger Military Force called out.--Attacked by the Mob.--Deadly
Firing.--Great Excitement.--Flight of Doctors and Students.

CHAPTER V.

SPRING ELECTION RIOTS OF 1834.

Fatal Error in our Naturalization Laws.--Our Experiment of
Self-government not a fair one.--Fruit of giving Foreigners the Right
to Vote.--Bitter Feeling between Democrats and Whigs.--First Day of
Election.--Ships "Constitution" and "Veto."--Whigs driven from the
Polls.--Excitement.--Whigs determined to defend themselves.--Meeting
called.--Resolutions.--Second Day's Election.--Attack on the Frigate
"Constitution."--A Bloody Fight.--Mayor and Officers wounded.--Mob
triumphant.--Excitement of the Whigs.--The Streets blocked by fifteen
thousand enraged Whigs.--Military called out.--Occupy Arsenal and
City Hall all Night.--Result of the Election.--Excitement of the
Whigs.--Mass-meeting in Castle Garden.

CHAPTER VI.

ABOLITION RIOTS OF 1834 AND 1835.

The Slavery Question agitated.--The End, Civil War.--The
Results.--William Lloyd Garrison.--Feeling of the People on the
Subject.--First Attempt to call a Meeting of the Abolitionists in New
York.--Meeting in Chatham Street Chapel.--A Fight.--Mob take Possession
of Bowery Theatre.--Sacking of Lewis Tappan's House.--Fight between Mob
and Police.--Mobbing of Dr. Cox's Church, in Laight Street.--His
House broken into.--Street Barricaded.--Attack on Arthur Tappan's
Store.--Second Attack on Church in Laight Street.--Church sacked in
Spring Street.--Arrival of the Military.--Barricades carried.--Mr.
Ludlow's House entered.--Mob at Five Points.--Destruction of
Houses.--The City Military called out.--Mob overawed, and Peace
restored.--Five Points Riot.--Stone-cutters' Riot.

CHAPTER VII.

FLOUR RIOT OF 1837.

Starvation will always create a Riot.--Foreign Population easily aroused
against the Rich.--Severe Winter of 1836.--Scarcity of Flour.--Meeting
of Citizens called without Result.--Meeting called in the
Park.--Speeches.--Sacking of Hart & Co.'s Flour Store, in Washington
Street.--Strange Spectacle.--National Guards called out.--Disperse the
Mob.--Attack on Herrick's Flour Store.--Folly of the Riot.

CHAPTER VIII.

ASTOR-PLACE RIOTS, 1849.

Rivalry between Forrest and Macready.--Macready's Arrival in this
Country.--The Announcement of his Appearance at the Astor-place Opera
House, and Forrest at the Broadway Theatre the same Night posted Side
by Side.--Bowery Boys crowd the Opera House.--Anxiety of
the Managers.--Consultations and Dramatic Scenes behind the
Curtain.--Stamping of the People.--Scene on raising the Curtain.--Stormy
Reception of Macready.--Howled down.--Mrs. Pope driven from the Stage by
the Outrageous Language of the Mob.--Macready not allowed to go
on.--His foolish Anger.--Flees for his Life.--His Appearance the
Second Night.--Preparations to put down the Mob.--Exciting Scene in the
Theatre.--Terrific Scenes without.--Military arrive.--Attacked by the
Mob.--Patience of the Troops.--Effort to avoid Firing.--The Order
to Fire.--Terrific Scene.--Strange Conduct of Forrest.--Unpublished
Anecdote of General Scott.

CHAPTER IX.

POLICE RIOT--DEAD-RABBITS' RIOT--BREAD RIOT, 1857.

Creation of the Metropolitan District.--Collision between Mayor
Wood's Police and the Metropolitan Police.--Seventh Regiment called
out.--Dead-Rabbits' Riot.--Severe Fight between the Roach Guards and
Dead Rabbits.--Police driven back.--Barricades erected.--Military called
out.--Killed and Wounded.--Bread Riot.--Financial Distress.

CHAPTER X.

DRAFT RIOTS OF 1863.

Cause of the Riots.--The London _Times_.--Draft called a despotic
Measure.--The despotic Power given to Washington by Congress.--Despotic
Action sometimes Necessary, in order to save the Life of the
Nation.--The Rights of Government.--Drafting he Legitimate Way to raise
an Army--It is not Unequal or Oppressive.

CHAPTER XI.

Rights of Municipalities.--Interference of the Legislature with the City
Government.--Conflict between the Governor and Police Commissioners.--A
Wrong becomes a Practical Blessing.--Provost Marshals.--Riot not
anticipated.--Bad time to commence the Draft.--Preparations of
Superintendent Kennedy.--The Police System.--Attack on Provost Marshal
Captain Erhardt.--Telegrams of the Police.--Kennedy starts on a Tour of
Observation.

CHAPTER XII.

Commencement of the Mob.--Its Line of March.--Its immense Size.--Attacks
a Provost-marshal's Office, in Third Avenue.--Set on Fire.--Terrible
Struggle of Kennedy for his Life with the Mob.--Carried to Head-quarters
unconscious.--Acton's Preparations.--The Telegraph System.--Mob cutting
down Telegraph Poles.--Number of Despatches sent over the Wires during
the Riot.--Superintendent of Telegraph Bureau seized and held Prisoner
by the Mob.

CHAPTER XIII.

Soldiers beaten by the Mob.--Gallant Fight of Sergeant McCredie.--Mob
Triumphant.--Beat Police Officers unmercifully.--Fearful Scenes.--Fifty
thousand People block Third Avenue.--A whole Block of Houses
burning.--Attack on a Gun Factory.--Defeat of the Broadway
Squad.--Houses sacked in Lexington Avenue.--Telegraph
Dispatches.--Bull's Head Tavern burned.--Block on Broadway
burned.--Burning of the <DW64>s' Orphan Asylum.--Attack on Mayor
Opdyke's House.--A Crisis nobly met.--Gallant Fight and Victory of
Sergeant Carpenter.--A thrilling Spectacle.

CHAPTER XIV.

No Military in the City.--The Mayor calls on General Wool, commanding
Eastern Department, for Help.--Also on General Sandford.--General Wool
sends to General Brown, commanding Garrison in the Harbor, for U. S.
Troops.--Marines of the States appealed to for Troops.--General Brown
assumes Command.--Attack of Mob on the _Tribune_ Building.--Its severe
Punishment.--Government Buildings garrisoned.--Difficulty between
Generals Brown and Wool.--Head-quarters.--Police Commissioners' Office
Military Head-quarters.

CHAPTER XV.

Telegraph Bureau.--Its Work.--Skill and Daring and Success of its
Force.--Interesting Incidents.--Hairbreadth Escapes.--Detective
Force.--Its arduous Labors.--Its Disguises.--Shrewdness, Tact, and
Courage.--Narrow Escapes.--Hawley, the Chief Clerk.--His exhausting
Labors.

CHAPTER XVI.

DRAFT RIOT--SECOND DAY.

Appearance of the City.--Assembling of the Mob.--Fight between Rioters
and the Police and Soldiers.--Storming of Houses.--Rioters hurled
from the Roofs.--Soldiers fire on the People.--Awful Death of
Colonel O'Brien.--Fight in Pitt Street.--Deadly Conflict for a Wire
Factory.--Horrible Impaling of a Man on an Iron Picket.--Mystery
attached to him.--Second Attack on Mayor Opdyke's House.--Second
Fight for the Wire Factory.--Telegraphic Dispatches.--Citizens
Volunteering.--Raid on the <DW64>s.--They are hunted to Death.--Savage
Spectacle.--<DW64>s seek Head-quarters of Police.--Appearance and State
of the City.--Colonel Nugent's House sacked.--Fight with the Mob in
Third Avenue.--Battle at Gibbon's House.--Policeman Shot.--Night
Attack on Brooks and Brothers' Clothing Store.--Value of the Telegraph
System.--Captain Petty.--Seymour's Speech to the Mob.--Cars and Stages
seized.--Barricades.--Other Fights.--Acton and his Labors.

CHAPTER XVII.

DRAFT RIOT--THIRD DAY.

Scenes in the City and at Head-quarters.--Fight in Eighth
Avenue.--Cannon sweep the Streets.--Narrow Escape of Captain Howell
and Colonel Mott.--Battle for Jackson's Foundry.--Howitzers clear
the Street.--State of Things shown by Telegraph Dispatches.--General
Sandford sends out a Force against a Mob, at Corner of Twenty-ninth
Street and Seventh Avenue.--Colonel Gardin's Fight with the Mob.--Is
Wounded.--Mob Victorious.--Dead and Wounded Soldiers left in the
Street.--Captain Putnam sent to bring them away.--Disperses the
Mob.--Terrific Night.

CHAPTER XVIII.

DRAFT RIOT--FOURTH DAY.

Proclamations by the Governor and Mayor.--City districted.--Appearance
of the East Side of the City.--A small Squad of Soldiers chased into
a Foundry by the Mob.--Fierce Fight between the Mob and Military in
Twenty-ninth Street.--Soldiers driven from the Ground, leaving a dead
Sergeant behind.--Captain Putnam sent to bring the Body away.--Mows
down the Rioters with Canister.--Storms the Houses.--Utter Rout of
the Mob.-- Orphans and <DW64>s taken by Police to
Blackwell's Island.--Touching Scene.--Coming on of Night and a
Thunder-storm.--Returning Regiments.--Increased Force in the City to put
down Violence.--Archbishop Hughes offers to address the
Irish.--Curious Account of an Interview of a Lady with him and Governor
Seymour.--Strange Conduct of the Prelate.

CHAPTER XIX.

CLOSING SCENES.

Tranquil Morning.--Proclamation of the Mayor.--Mob cowed.--Plunderers
afraid of Detection.--Dirty Cellars crowded with rich Apparel,
Furniture, and Works of Art.--Archbishop Hughes' Address.--Useless
Efforts.--Acton's Forty-eight Hours without Sleep over.--Change in
Military Commanders in the City.--General Brown relinquishes his
Command.--True Words.--Noble Character and Behavior of the Troops and
Police.--General Brown's invaluable Services.

CHAPTER XX.

Continued Tranquillity.--Strange Assortment of Plunder gathered in the
Cellars and Shanties of the Rioters.--Search for it exasperates
the Irish.--Noble Conduct of the Sanitary Police.--Sergeant
Copeland.--Prisoners tried.--Damages claimed from the City.--Number
of Police killed.--Twelve hundred Rioters killed.--The Riot Relief
Fund.--List of <DW52> People killed.--Generals Wool and Sandford's
Reports.--Their Truthfulness denied.--General Brown vindicated.

CHAPTER XXI.

ORANGE RIOTS OF 1870 AND 1871.

Religious Toleration.--Irish Feuds.--Battle of Boyne
Water.--Orangemen.--Origin and Object of the Society.--A Picnic at Elm
Park.--Attacked by the Ribbonmen.--The Fight. After Scenes.--Riot
of 1871.--Conspiracy of the Irish Catholics to prevent a Parade of
Orangemen.--Forbidden by the City Authorities.--Indignation of
the People.--Meeting in the Produce Exchange.--Governor Hoffman's
Proclamation.--Morning of the 12th.--The Orangemen at Lamartine
Hall.--Attack on the Armories.--The Harpers threatened.--Exciting
Scenes around Lamartine Hall and at Police Head-quarters.--Hibernia
Hall cleared.--Attack on an Armory.--Formation of the Procession.--Its
March.--Attacked.--Firing of the Military without Orders.--Terrific
Scene.--The Hospitals and Morgue.--Night Scenes.--Number of killed and
wounded.--The Lesson.


THE GREAT RIOTS OF NEW YORK CITY.



CHAPTER I.

Character of a City illustrated by Riots.--New Material for History of
Draft Riots.--History of the Rebellion incomplete without History of
them.--The Fate of the Nation resting on the Issues of the Struggle in
New York City.--The best Plan to adopt for Protection against Mobs.

The history of the riots that have taken place in a great city from its
foundation, is a curious and unique one, and illustrates the peculiar
changes in tone and temper that have come over it in the course of
its development and growth. They exhibit also one phase of its moral
character--furnish a sort of moral history of that vast, ignorant,
turbulent class which is one of the distinguishing features of a
great city, and at the same time the chief cause of its solicitude and
anxiety, and often of dread.

The immediate cause, however, of my taking up the subject, was a request
from some of the chief actors in putting down the Draft Riots of
1863, to write a history of them. It was argued that it had never been
written, except in a detached and fragmentary way in the daily press,
which, from the hurried manner in which it was done, was necessarily
incomplete, and more or less erroneous.

It was also said, and truly, that those who, by their courage and
energy, saved the city, and who now would aid me not only officially,
but by their personal recollections and private memoranda, would soon
pass away, and thus valuable material be lost.

Besides these valid reasons, it was asserted that the history of the
rebellion was not complete without it, and yet no historian of that most
important event in our national life had given the riots the prominence
they deserved, but simply referred to them as a side issue, instead
of having a vital bearing on the fate of the war and the nation. On no
single battle or campaign did the destiny of the country hinge as upon
that short, sharp campaign carried on by General Brown and the Police
Commissioners against the rioters in the streets of New York, in the
second week of July, 1863. Losses and defeats in the field could be
and were repaired, but defeat in New York would in all probability have
ended the war. It is not necessary to refer to the immediate direct
effects of such a disaster on the army in the field, although it is
scarcely possible to over-estimate the calamitous results that would
have followed the instantaneous stoppage, even for a short time, of the
vast accumulations of provisions, ammunition, and supplies of all kinds,
that were on their way to the army through New York. Nor is it necessary
to speculate on the effect of the diversion of troops from the front
that such an event would have compelled, in order to recover so vital
a point. Washington had better be uncovered than New York be lost. One
thing only is needed to show how complete and irreparable the disaster
would have been; namely, the effect it would have had on the finances of
the country. With the great banking-houses and moneyed institutions of
New York sacked and destroyed, the financial credit of the country
would have broken down utterly. The crash of falling houses all over
the country that would have followed financial disaster here, would have
been like that of falling trees in a forest swept by a hurricane. Had
the rioters got complete possession of the city but for a single day,
their first dash would have been for the treasures piled up in its
moneyed institutions. Once in possession of these, they, like the mobs
of Paris, would have fired the city before yielding them up. In the
crisis that was then upon us, it would not have required a long stoppage
in this financial centre of the country to have effected a second
revolution. With no credit abroad and no money at home, the Government
would have been completely paralyzed. Not long possession of the city
was needed, but only swift destruction.

Doubtless the disastrous effects would have been increased tenfold,
if possible, by uprisings in other cities, which events showed were to
follow. Even partial success developed hostile elements slumbering in
various parts of the country, and running from Boston almost to the
extreme West.

In this view of the case, these riots assume a magnitude and importance
that one cannot contemplate without a feeling of terror, and the truth
of history requires that their proper place should be assigned them, and
those who put them down have an honorable position beside our successful
commanders and brave soldiers. It is also important, as a lesson for
the future, and naturally brings up the question, what are the best
measures, and what is the best policy for the city of New York to
adopt, in order to protect itself from that which to-day constitutes its
greatest danger--_mob violence?_ If it ever falls in ruins, the work
of destruction will commence and end within its own limits. We have a
police and city military which have been thought to be sufficient, but
experience has shown that though this provision may be ample to restore
law and order in the end, it works slowly, often unwisely, and always
with an unnecessary expenditure of life. In conversing with those of
largest experience and intelligence in the police department on this
subject of such great and growing importance, we are convinced, from
their statements and views, a vast improvement in this matter can be
made, while the cost to the city, instead of being increased, will be
lessened; that is, a cheaper, wiser, and more effectual plan than the
present one can be adopted. Of course this does not refer to mere local
disturbances, which the police force in the ordinary discharge of its
duties can quell, but to those great outbreaks which make it necessary
to call out the military. Not that there might not be exigencies in
which it would be necessary to resort, not only to the military of the
city, but to invoke the aid of neighboring States; for a riot may assume
the proportions of a revolution, but for such no local permanent remedy
can be furnished.

The objections to relying on the military, as we invariably do in case
of a large mob, are many. In the first place, it takes the best part
of a day to get the troops together, so that a mob, so far as they are
concerned, has time not only to waste and destroy for many hours, but
increase in strength and audacity. The members of the various regiments
are scattered all over the city, engaged in different occupations and
employments, and without previous notice being given, it is a long and
tedious process to get them to their respective headquarters and in
uniform. This wastes much and most valuable time. Besides, they are
compelled to reach the mustering place singly or in small groups, and
hence liable to be cut off or driven back by the mob, which in most
cases would know the place of rendezvous.

In the second place, the members are taken out from the mass of the
people, between whom there might be a strong sympathy in some particular
outbreak, which would impair their efficiency, and make them hesitate to
shoot down their friends and acquaintances.

In the third place, in ordinary peace times, these uniformed regiments
are not the steadiest or most reliable troops, as was witnessed in the
riots of 1863, as well as in those of the Astor Place in 1849.

They hesitate, or are apt to become hasty or disorganized in a close,
confused fight, and driven back. In the commencement of a riot, a defeat
of the military gives increased confidence, and indeed, power to a mob,
and snakes the sacrifice of life, in the end, far greater.

In the fourth place, clearing the streets does not always dissipate
a mob. A whole block of houses may become a fortress, which it
is necessary to storm before a permanent victory is gained.
Half-disciplined men, unaccustomed, and unskilled to such work, make
poor headway with their muskets through narrow halls, up stairways, and
through scuttle-holes.

In the fifth place, the military of the city cannot be called away from
their work for two or three days, to parade the city, without a heavy
expense, and hence the process is a costly one.

In the last place, the firing of these troops at the best is not very
judicious, and cannot be discriminating, so that those are shot down
often least culpable, and of least influence in the mob--in fact, more
lives usually are taken than is necessary.

The simplest, most efficient, and most economical plan would be to
select five hundred or more of the most courageous, experienced, and
efficient men from the police department, and form them into a separate
battalion, and have them drilled in such evolutions, manoeuvres, and
modes of attack or defence, as would belong to the work they were
set apart to do. A battery might be given them in case of certain
emergencies, and a portion carefully trained in its use. At a certain
signal of the bell, they should be required to hasten, without a
moment's delay, to their head-quarters. A mob could hardly be gathered
and commence work before this solid body of disciplined, reliable men
would be upon them. These five hundred men would scatter five thousand
rioters like chaff before them. It would be more efficient than two
entire regiments, even if assembled, and would be worth more than the
whole military of the city for the first half day.

Besides, clubs are better than guns. They take no time to load--they are
never discharged like muskets, leaving their owners for the time at the
mercy of the mob. Their volleys are incessant and perpetual, given
as long and fast as strong arms can strike. They are also more
discriminating than bullets, hitting the guilty ones first. Moreover,
they disable rather than kill--which is just as effectual, and far
more desirable. In addition to all this, being trained to one purpose,
instructed to one duty, a mob would be their natural enemies, and hence
sympathy with them in any cause almost impossible.



CHAPTER II.


THE <DW64> RIOTS OF 1712-1741.

Almost impossible for the present Generation to comprehend its true
Character and Effect on the People.--Description of New York at that
Time.--The <DW64> Slaves.--The <DW64> Riot of 1712.--Description
of it.--The Winter of 1741.--Governor's House burned down.--Other
Fires.--Suspicion of the People.--Arrest and Imprisonment of the
Blacks.--Reward offered for the supposed Conspirators.--Alarm and Flight
of the Inhabitants.--Examination and Confession of Mary
Burton.--Peggy, the Newfoundland Beauty, and the Hughson Family.--The
Conspiracy.--Executions.--Fast.--Hughson's Hearing.--Hung in
Chains.--The Body, and that of a <DW64>, left to swing and rot in the
Air.--Strange Change in the Appearances of the Bodies.--The People
throng to look at them.--<DW64>s burned at the Stake.--Terrific
Spectacle.--Bloody Summer.--Execution of a Catholic Priest.--Strange
Scenes.--Upper Classes accused.--Executions stopped.--Reason of the
Panic.

Probably no event of comparatively modern times--certainly none in our
history--has occurred so extraordinary in some of its phases, as the
<DW64> riot of 1741. We cannot fully appreciate it, not merely because of
the incompleteness of some of its details, nor from the lapse of time,
but because of our inability to place ourselves in the position or state
of mind of the inhabitants of New York City at that period. We can no
more throw ourselves into the social condition, and feel the influences
of that time, than we can conceive the outward physical appearance of
the embryo metropolis. It is impossible to stand amid the whirl and
uproar of New York to-day, and imagine men ploughing, and sowing
grain, and carting hay into barns, where the City Hall now stands. The
conception of nearly all the city lying below the Park, above it farms
to Canal Street, beyond that clearings where men are burning brush and
logs to clear away the fallow, and still farther on, towards Central
Park, an unbroken wilderness, is so dim and shadowy, that we can hardly
fix its outlines. Yet it was so in 1741. Where now stands the Tombs,
and cluster the crowded tenements of Five Points, was a pond or lakelet,
nearly two miles in circumference and fifty feet deep, and encircled by
a dense forest. Its deep, sluggish outlet into the Hudson is now Canal
Street. In wet weather there was another water communication with the
East River, near Peck Slip, cutting off the lower part of the island,
leaving another island, containing some eight hundred acres. Through
Broad Street, along which now rolls each day the stream of business, and
swells the tumult of the Brokers' Board, then swept a deep stream, up
which boatmen rowed their boats to sell oysters. The water that supplied
these streams and ponds is now carried off through immense sewers, deep
under ground, over which the unconscious population tread. Where Front
and Water Streets on the east side, and West Greenwich and Washington on
the west side, now stretch, were then the East and Hudson Rivers, having
smooth and pebbly beaches. There was not a single sidewalk in all the
city, and only some half dozen paved streets. On the Battery stood the
fort, in which were the Governor's and secretary's houses, and over
which floated the British flag.

But all this outward appearance is no more unlike the New York of to-day
than its internal condition.

The population numbered only about ten thousand, one-fifth of which was
<DW64>s, who were slaves. Their education being wholly neglected, they
were ignorant and debased, and addicted to almost every vice. They were,
besides, restive under their bondage amid the severe punishments often
inflicted on them, which caused their masters a great deal of anxiety.
Not isolated as an inland plantation, but packed in a narrow space, they
had easy communication with each other, and worse than all, with the
reckless and depraved crews of the vessels that came into port. It is
true, the most stringent measures were adopted to prevent them from
assembling together; yet, in spite of every precaution, there would now
and then come to light some plan or project that would fill the whites
with alarm. They felt half the time as though walking on the crust of a
volcano, and hence were in a state of mind to exaggerate every danger,
and give credit to every sinister rumor.

The experience of the past, as well as the present state of feeling
among the slaves, justified this anxiety and dread; for only thirty
years before occurred just such an outbreak as they now feared. On the
7th of April, in 1712, between one and two o'clock in the morning,
the house of Peter Van Tilburgh was set on fire by <DW64>s, which was
evidently meant as a signal for a general revolt.

The cry of fire roused the neighboring inhabitants, and they rushed out
through the unpaved muddy streets, toward the blazing building. As they
approached it, they saw, to their amazement, in the red light of the
flames, a band of <DW64>s standing in front, armed with guns and long
knives. Before the whites could hardly comprehend what the strange
apparition meant, the <DW64>s fired, and then rushed on them with their
knives, killing several on the spot. The rest, leaving the building to
the mercy of the flames, ran to the fort on the Battery, and roused the
Governor. Springing from his bed, he rushed out and ordered a cannon to
be fired from the ramparts to alarm the town. As the heavy report boomed
over the bay and shook the buildings of the town, the inhabitants leaped
from their beds, and looking out of the windows, saw the sky lurid with
flames. Their dread and uncertainty were increased, when they heard the
heavy splash of soldiers through the mud, and the next moment saw their
bayonets gleam out of the gloom, as they hurried forward towards the
fire. In the meantime, other <DW64>s had rushed to the spot, so that
soon there were assembled, in proportion to the white population, what
in the present population of the city would be fully 10,000 <DW64>s.

The rioters stood firm till they saw the bayonets flashing in the
fire-light, and then, giving one volley, fled into the darkness
northward, towards what is now Wall Street. The scattered inhabitants
they met, who, roused by the cannon, were hastening to the fire, they
attacked with their knives, killing and wounding several. The soldiers,
firing at random into the darkness, followed after them, accompanied by
a crowd of people. The <DW64>s made for the woods and swamps near
where the Park now stands, and disappearing in the heavy shadows of the
forest, were lost to view. Knowing it would be vain to follow them into
the thickets, the soldiers and inhabitants surrounded them and kept
watch till morning. Many, of course, got off and buried themselves in
the deeper, more extensive woods near Canal Street, but many others
were taken prisoners. Some, finding themselves closely pressed and all
avenues of escape cut off, deliberately shot themselves, preferring
such a death to the one they knew awaited them. How many were killed and
captured during the morning, the historian does not tell us. We can
only infer that the number must have been great, from the statement he
incidentally makes, that "during the day _nineteen more were_
taken, tried, and executed--some that turned State's evidence were
transported." "Eight or ten whites had been murdered," and many more
wounded.

It was a terrible event, and remembered by the present inhabitants with
horror and dismay. To the little handful occupying the point of the
island, it was a tragedy as great as a riot in New York to-day would be,
in which was a loss of 5,000 or more on each side.

Many middle-aged men, in 1741, were young men at that time, and
remembered the fearful excitement that prevailed, and it was a common
topic of conversation.

The state of things, therefore, which we have described, was natural.
This was rendered worse by the arrival, in the winter of 1741, of a
Spanish vessel, which had been captured as a prize, the crew of which
was composed in part of <DW64>s, who were sold at auction as slaves.
These became very intractable, and in spite of the floggings they
received, uttered threats that they knew would reach their masters'
ears. Still, no evidence of any general plot against the inhabitants was
suspected, and things were moving on in their usual way, when, on the
18th of March, a wild and blustering day, the Governor's house in the
fort was discovered to be on fire. Fanned by a fierce south-east wind,
the flames spread to the King's chapel, the secretary's house, barracks,
and stables; and in spite of all efforts to save them, were totally
consumed. The origin of the fire was supposed to be accidental, but a
few days after, Captain Warren's house, near the fort, was found to be
on fire. Two or three days later, the storehouse of Mr. Van Zandt was
discovered on fire. Still, no general suspicions were aroused. Three
more days passed, when a cow-stall was reported on fire, and a few
hours later, the house of Mr. Thompson; the fire in the latter case
originating in the room where a <DW64> slave slept. The very next day,
live coals were discovered under the stable of John Murray, on Broadway.
This, evidently, was no accident, but the result of design, and the
people began to be alarmed. The day following, the house of a sergeant
near the fort was seen to be on fire, and soon after, flames arose from
the roof of a dwelling near the Fly Market. The rumor now spread like
wildfire through the town that it was the work of incendiaries. It
seems to us a small foundation to base such a belief on, but it must
be remembered that the public mind was in a state to believe almost
anything.

The alarm was increased by the statement of Mrs. Earle, who said that
on Sunday, as she was looking out of her window, she saw three <DW64>s
swaggering up Broadway, engaged in earnest conversation. Suddenly she
heard one of them exclaim, "Fire! fire! Scorch! scorch! a little d--n by
and by!" and then throwing up his hands, laughed heartily. Coupled with
the numerous fires that had occurred, and the rumors afloat, it at once
excited her suspicions that this conversation had something to do with
a plot to burn the city. She therefore immediately reported it to an
alderman, and he, next day, to the justices.

Although the number of buildings thus mysteriously set on fire was, in
reality, small, yet it was as great in proportion to the town then, as
three hundred would be in New York to-day. Less than that number, we
imagine, would create a panic in the city, especially if the public mind
was in a feverish state, as, for instance, during the recent civil war.

Some thought the Spanish <DW64>s had set the buildings on fire from
revenge, especially as those of the Government were the first to suffer.
Others declared that it was a plot of the entire <DW64> population to
burn down the city. This belief was strengthened by the fact that, in
one of the last fires, a slave of one of the most prominent citizens was
seen to leap from the window, and make off over garden fences. A shout
was immediately raised by the spectators, and a pursuit commenced.
The terrified fugitive made desperate efforts to escape, but being
overtaken, he was seized, and, pale as death, lifted on men's shoulders
and carried to jail.

Added to all this, men now remembered it lacked but a few days of being
the anniversary of the bloody riot of thirty years ago. They began to
watch and question the <DW64>s, and one of the Spanish sailors, on being
interrogated, gave such unsatisfactory, suspicious answers, that
the whole crew were arrested, and thrown into prison. But that same
afternoon, while the magistrates, whom the alarming state of things had
called together, were in consultation about it, the cry of "Fire!" again
startled the entire community. The ringing of the alarm-bell had now
become almost as terrifying as the sound of the last trumpet, and the
panic became general. The first step was to ascertain if there were any
strangers in town who might be concealed enemies, and a thorough search
was made--the militia being ordered out, and sentries posted at the ends
of all the streets, with orders to stop all persons carrying bags and
bundles. This was done on the 13th of April. None being found, the
conclusion became inevitable that some dark, mysterious plot lay at the
bottom of it all, and the inhabitants thought the city was doomed, like
Sodom. First, the more timorous packed up their valuable articles and
fled into the country, up toward Canal Street. This increased the panic,
which swelled until almost the entire population were seen hurrying
through the streets, fleeing for their lives. The announcement of an
approaching army would not have created a greater stampede. Every cart
and vehicle that could be found was engaged at any price, into which
whole families were piled, and hurried away to the farms beyond Chambers
Street, in the neighborhood of Canal Street. It was a strange spectacle,
and the farmers could hardly believe their senses, at this sudden
inundation into their quiet houses of the people of the city. The town
authorities were also swept away in the general excitement, and <DW64>s
of all ages and sexes were arrested by the wholesale, and hurried to
prison. The Supreme Court was to sit in the latter part of April, and
the interval of a few days was spent in efforts to get at the guilty
parties. But nothing definite could be ascertained, as the conspirators,
whoever they were, kept their own secret. At length, despairing of
getting at the truth in any other way, the authorities offered a reward
of a hundred pounds, and a full pardon to any one who would turn State's
evidence, and reveal the names of the ringleaders. This was pretty
sure to bring out the facts, if there were any to disclose, and almost
equally sure to obtain a fabricated story, if there was nothing to tell.
A poor, ignorant slave, shaking with terror in his cell, would hardly be
proof against such an inducement as a free pardon, and to him or her an
almost fabulous sum of money, if he had anything to reveal, while the
temptation to invent a tale that would secure both liberty and money was
equally strong.

On the 21st of April the court met, Judges Philips and Horsmander
presiding. A jury was impanelled, but although there was no lack of
prisoners, there was almost a total want of evidence sufficient to put
a single man on trial. The reward offered had not borne its legitimate
fruits, and no one offered to make any revelations.

Among the first brought up for examination was Mary Burton, a <DW52>
servant girl, belonging to John Hughson, the keeper of a low, dirty
<DW64> tavern over on the west side of the city, near the Hudson River.
This was a place of rendezvous for the worst <DW64>s of the town; and
from some hints that Mary had dropped, it was suspected it had been the
head-quarters of the conspirators. But when, brought before the Grand
Jury, she refused to be sworn. They entreated her to take the oath and
tell the whole truth, but she only shook her head. They then threatened
her, but with no better success; they promised she should be protected
from danger and shielded from prosecution, but she still maintained an
obstinate silence. They then showed her the reward, and attempted to
bribe her with the wealth in store for her, but she almost spat on it in
her scorn. This poor <DW64> slave showed an independence and stubbornness
in the presence of the jury that astonished them. Finding all their
efforts vain, they ordered her to be sent to jail. This terrified her,
and she consented to be sworn. But after taking the oath, she refused to
say anything about the fire. A theft had been traced to Hughson, and she
told all she knew about that, but about the fires would neither deny nor
affirm anything. They then appealed to her conscience painted before
her the terrors of the final judgment, and the torments of hell, till
at last she broke down, and proposed to make a clean breast of it. She
commenced by saying that Hughson had threatened to take her life if she
told, and then again hesitated. But at length, by persistent efforts,
the following facts were wrenched from her by piecemeal. She said that
three <DW64>s--giving their names--had been in the habit of meeting at
the tavern, and talking about burning of the fort and city and murdering
the people, and that Hughson and his wife had promised to help them;
after which Hughson was to be governor and Cuff Phillipse king. That the
first part of the story was true, there is little doubt. How much, with
the imagination and love of the marvellous peculiar to her race, she
added to it, it is not easy to say. She said, moreover, that but one
white person beside her master and mistress was in the conspiracy, and
that was an Irish girl known as Peggy, "the Newfoundland Beauty."
She had several _aliases_, and was an abandoned character, being a
prostitute to the <DW64>s, and at this time kept as a mistress by a
bold, desperate <DW64> named Caesar. This revelation of Mary's fell on
the Grand Jury like a bombshell. The long-sought secret they now felt
was out. They immediately informed the magistrates. Of course the
greatest excitement followed. Peggy was next examined, but she denied
Mary Burton's story _in toto_--swore that she knew nothing of any
conspiracy or of the burning of the stores; that if she should accuse
any one it would be a lie, and blacken her own soul.

It is rather a severe reflection on the courts of justice of that
period, or we might rather say, perhaps, a striking illustration of the
madness that had seized on all, that although the law strictly forbade
any slave to testify in a court of justice against a white person, yet
this girl Mary Burton was not only allowed to appear as evidence against
Peggy, but her oath was permitted to outweigh hers, and cause her to
be sentenced to death. The latter, though an abandoned, desperate
character, was seized with terror at the near approach of death, and
begged to be allowed another examination, which was granted, and she
professed to make a full confession. It is a little singular that
while she corroborated Mary Burton's statement as to the existence of a
conspiracy, she located the seat of it not in Hughson's tavern, but in
a miserable shanty near the Battery, kept by John Romme, who, she said,
had promised to carry them all to a new country, and give them their
liberty, if they would murder the whites and bring him the plunder. Like
Mary Burton's confession, if truthful at all, it evidently had a large
mixture of falsehood in it.

On Saturday, May 9th, Peggy was again brought in, and underwent a
searching examination. Some of her statements seemed improbable, and
they therefore tested them in every possible way. It lasted for several
hours, and resulted in a long _detailed_ confession, in which she
asserted, among other things, that it was the same plot that failed
in 1712, when the <DW64>s designed to kill all the whites, in fact,
exterminate them from the island. She implicated a great many <DW64>s
in the conspiracy; and every one that she accused, as they were brought
before her, she identified as being present at the meetings of the
conspirators in Romme's house. The court seemed anxious to avoid any
collusion between the prisoners, and therefore kept them apart, so that
each story should rest on its own basis. By this course they thought
they would be able to distinguish what was true and what was false.

Either from conscious guilt, or from having got some inkling of
the charge to be brought against him, Romme fled before he could be
arrested. His wife, however, and the <DW64>s whose names Peggy gave,
were sent to jail.

On the 11th of May, or twenty days after the court convened, the
executions commenced. On this day, Caesar and Prince, two of the three
<DW64>s Mary Burton testified against, were hung, though not for the
conspiracy, but for theft. They were abandoned men, and died recklessly.
Peggy and Hughson and his wife were next condemned. The former, finding
that her confession did not, as had been promised, secure her pardon,
retracted all she had said, and exculpated entirely the parties whose
arrest she had caused.

An atmosphere of gloom now rested over the city; every face showed signs
of dread. In this state of feeling the Lieutenant-governor issued a
proclamation, appointing a day of fasting and humiliation, not only in
view of this calamity, but on account also of the want and loss caused
by the past severe winter, and the declaration of war by England against
Spain. When the day arrived, every shop was closed and business of all
kinds suspended, and the silence and repose of the Sabbath rested on the
entire community. Without regard to sect, all repaired to the places of
worship, where the services were performed amid the deepest solemnity.

The day of execution appointed for Hughson, his wife, and Peggy was a
solemn one, and almost the entire population turned out to witness it.
The former had declared that some extraordinary appearance would take
place at his execution, and every one gazed on him as he passed in a
cart from the prison to the gallows. He was a tall, powerful man, being
six feet high. He stood erect in the cart all the way, his piercing eye
fixed steadily on the distance, and his right hand raised high as his
fetters would permit, and beckoning as though he saw help coming from
afar. His face was usually pale and colorless, but to-day it was noticed
that two bright red spots burned on either cheek, which added to the
mystery with which the superstitious spectators invested him. When the
sad procession arrived at the place of execution, the prisoners were
helped to the ground, and stood exposed to the gaze of the crowd.
Hughson was firm and self-possessed; but Peggy, pale, and weeping, and
terror-struck, begging for life; while the wife, with the rope round
her neck, leaned against a tree, silent and composed, but colorless
as marble. One after another they were launched into eternity, and the
crowd, solemn and thoughtful, turned their steps homeward.

Hughson was hung in chains; and in a few days a <DW64> was placed beside
him, and here they swung, "blind and blackening," in the April air, in
full view of the tranquil bay, a ghastly spectacle to the fishermen as
they plied their vocation near by. For three weeks they dangled here in
sunshine and storm, a terror to the passers-by. At length a rumor passed
through the town that Hughson had turned into a <DW64>, and the <DW64>
into a white man. This was a new mystery, and day after day crowds
would come and gaze on the strange transformation, some thinking it
supernatural, and others trying to give an explanation. Hughson had
threatened to take poison, and it was thought by many that he had, and
it was the effect of this that had wrought the change in his appearance.
For ten days the Battery was thronged with spectators, gazing on these
bloated, decomposing bodies, many in their superstitious fears expecting
some new transformation. Under the increasing heat of the sun, they soon
began to drip, till at last the body of Hughson burst asunder, filling
the air with such an intolerable stench that the fishermen shunned the
locality.

As simple hanging was soon thought not sufficient punishment, and they
were left to swing, and slowly rot in chains, so this last was at length
thought to be too lenient, and the convicts were condemned to be burned
at the stake. Two <DW64>s, named Quack and Cuffee, were the first doomed
to this horrible death. The announcement of this sentence created the
greatest excitement. It was a new thing to the colonists, this mode of
torture being appropriated by the savages for prisoners taken in war.
Curious crowds gathered to see the stake erected, or stare at the loads
of wood as they passed along the street, and were unloaded at its base.
It was a strange spectacle to behold--the workmen carefully piling
up the fagots under the spring sun; the spectators looking on, some
horrified, and others fierce as savages; and over all the blue sky
bending, while the gentle wind stole up from the bay and whispered
in the tree-tops overhead. On the day of execution an immense crowd
assembled. The two <DW64>s were brought forward, pale and terrified, and
bound to the stake. As the men approached with the fire to kindle
the pile, they shrieked out in terror, confessed the conspiracy, and
promised, if released, to tell all about it. They were at once taken
down. This was the signal for an outbreak, and shouts of "burn 'em, burn
'em" burst from the multitude. Mr. Moore then asked the sheriff to delay
execution till he could see the Governor and get a reprieve. He hurried
off, and soon returned with a conditional one. But, as he met the
sheriff on the common, the latter told him that it would be impossible
to take the criminals through the crowd without a strong guard, and
before that could arrive, they would be murdered by the exasperated
populace. They were then tied up again, and the torch applied. The
flames arose around the unhappy victims. The curling smoke soon hid
their dusky forms from view, while their shrieks and cries for mercy
grew fainter and fainter, as the fierce fire shrivelled up their forms,
till at last nothing but the crackling of the flames was heard, and
the shouting, savage crowd grew still. As the fire subsided, the two
wretched creatures, crisped to a cinder, remained to tell, for the
hundredth time, to what barbarous deeds terror and passion may lead men.

Some of the <DW64>s went laughing to the place of execution, indulging
in all sorts of buffoonery to the last, and mocking the crowd which
surrounded them.

All protested their innocence to the last, and if they had confessed
previously, retracted before death their statements and accusations. But
this contradiction of themselves, to-morrow denying what to-day they
had solemnly sworn on the Bible to be true, instead of causing the
authorities to hesitate, and consider how much terror and the hope of
pardon had to do with it, convinced them still more of the strength
and dangerous nature of the conspiracy, and they went to work with a
determination and recklessness which made that summer the bloodiest and
most terrific in the annals of New York. No lawyer was found bold enough
to step forward and defend these poor wretches, but all volunteered
their services to aid the Government in bringing them to punishment. The
weeks now, as they rolled on, were freighted with terror and death, and
stamped with scenes that made the blood run cold. This little town, on
the southern part of Manhattan Island was wholly given to panic, and
a nameless dread of some mysterious, awful fate, extended even to the
scattered farm-houses near Canal Street. Between this and the last of
August, a hundred and fifty-four <DW64>s, exclusive of whites,
were thrown into prison, till every cell was crowded and packed to
suffocation with them. For three months, sentence of condemnation was
on an average of one a day. The last execution was that of a Catholic
priest, or rather of a schoolmaster of the city, who was charged with
being one. Mary Burton, after an interval of three months, pretended to
remember that he was present with the other conspirators she had first
named as being in Hughson's tavern.

His trial was long, and apparently without excitement. He conducted his
own case with great ability, and brought many witnesses to prove
his good character and orderly conduct; but he, of course, could not
disprove the assertion of Mary, that she had some time or other seen him
with the conspirators at Hughson's tavern--for the latter, with his wife
and Peggy, and the <DW64>s she had before named, had all been executed.
Mary Burton alone was left, and her evidence being credited, no amount
of testimony could avail him.

Although the proceedings were all dignified and solemn, as became
an English court, yet the course the trial took showed how utterly
unbalanced and one-sided it had become. To add weight to Mary's
evidence, many witnesses were examined to prove that Ury, though a
schoolmaster, had performed the duties of a Catholic priest, as though
this were an important point to establish. The attorney-general, in
opening the case, drew a horrible picture of former persecutions by the
<DW7>s, and their cruelties to the Protestants, until it was apparent
that all that the jury needed to indorse a verdict of guilty was
evidence that he was a Catholic priest. Still it would be unfair to
attribute this feeling wholly to religious intolerance or the spirit of
persecution. England was at this time at war with Spain, and a report
was circulated that the Spanish priests in Florida had formed a
conspiracy to murder the English colonists. A letter from Ogilthorpe,
in Georgia, confirmed this. Ury, who was an educated Englishman, but had
led an adventurous life in different countries, could not disprove this,
and he was convicted and sentenced to be hung. He met his fate with
great composure and dignity, asserting his innocence to the last. He
made the eighteenth victim hung, while thirteen had been burned at the
stake, and seventy-one transported to various countries.

At the average rate of two every week, one hanged and one burned alive,
they were hurried into eternity amid prayers, and imprecations, and
shrieks of agony. The hauling of wood to the stake, and the preparation
of the gallows, kept the inhabitants in a state bordering on insanity.
Business was suspended, and every face wore a terrified look. The voice
of pity as well as justice was hushed, and one desire, that of swift
vengeance, filled every heart. Had the press of to-day, with its system
of interviewing, and minuteness of detail and description, existed then,
there would have been handed down to us a chapter in human history that
could be paralleled only in the dark ages.

A swift massacre, a terrible slaughter, comes and goes like an
earthquake or a tornado, and stuns rather than debases; but this long,
steady succession of horrible executions and frightful scenes changed
the very nature of the inhabitants, and they became a prey to a spirit
demoniacal rather than human. The prayers and tears of those led forth
to the stake, their heartrending cries as they were bound to it, and
their shrieks of agony that were wafted out over the still waters of
the bay, fell on hard and pitiless hearts. The ashes of the wood that
consumed one victim would hardly grow cold before a new fire was kindled
upon them, and the charred and blackened posts stood month after month,
hideous monuments of what man may become when judgment and reason are
surrendered to fear and passion. The spectacle was made still more
revolting by the gallows standing near the stake, on which many were
hung in chains, and their bodies left to swing, blacken, and rot in the
summer air, a ghastly, horrible sight.

Where this madness, that had swept away court, bar, and people together,
would have ended, it is impossible to say, had not a new terror seized
the inhabitants. Mary Burton, on whose accusation the first victims had
been arrested and executed, finding herself a heroine, sought new fields
in which to win notoriety. She ceased to implicate the blacks, and
turned her attention to the whites, and twenty-four were arrested and
thrown into prison. Elated with her success, she began to ascend in the
social scale, and criminated some persons of the highest social standing
in the city, whose characters were above suspicion. This was turning
the tables on them in a manner the upper class did not expect, and
they began to reflect what the end might be. The testimony that was
sufficient to condemn the slaves was equally conclusive against them.
The stake and the gallows which the court had erected for the black
man, it could not pull down because a white gentleman stood under their
shadow.

Robespierre and his friends cut off the upper-crust of society without
hesitation or remorse; but unfortunately the crust next below this
became in turn the upper-crust, which also had to be removed, until at
last they themselves were reached, when they paused. They had advanced
up to their necks in the bloody tide of revolution, and finding that to
proceed farther would take them overhead, they attempted to wade back to
shore. So here, so long as the accusations were confined to the lowest
class, it was all well enough, but when _they_ were being reached,
it was high time to stop. The proceedings were summarily brought to a
close, further examinations were deemed unnecessary, and confessions
became flat and unprofitable; and this strange episode in American
history ended.

That there had been cause for alarm, there can be no doubt. That threats
should be uttered by the slaves, is natural; for this would be in
keeping with their whole history in this country. Nor is it at all
improbable that a conspiracy was formed; for this, too, would only be in
harmony with the conduct of slaves from time immemorial. The utter folly
and hopelessness of such a one as the blacks testified to, has been
urged against its existence altogether. If the argument is good for
anything, it proves that the conspiracy thirty years before never
existed, and that the Southampton massacre was a delusion, and John
Brown never hatched his utterly insane conspiracy in Harper's Ferry.
There have been a good many servile insurrections plotted in this
country, not one of which was a whit more sensible or easier of
execution than this, which was said to look to the complete overthrow of
the little city. That the fires which first started the panic were the
work of <DW64> incendiaries, there is but little doubt; but how far they
were a part of a wide-laid plan, it is impossible to determine.

Unquestionably, success at the outset would have made the movement
general, so that nothing but military force could have arrested it.

There is one thing, however, about which there is no doubt--that a panic
seized the people and the courts, and made them as unreliable as in
the days of the Salem witchcraft. But these striking exhibitions of the
weakness of human nature under certain circumstances have been witnessed
since the world was made, and probably will continue to the end of time,
or until the race enters on a new phase of existence. Panics, even among
the most veteran soldiers, sometimes occur, and hence we cannot wonder
they take place amid a mixed population. Popular excitements are never
characterized by reason and common-sense, and never will be. In this
case, there was more reason for a panic than at first sight seems to be.

In the first place, the proportion of slaves to the whites was large.
In the second place, they were a turbulent set, and had shown such
a dangerous spirit, that the authorities became afraid to let them
assemble together in meetings. This restriction they felt sorely, and it
made them more restive. All were aware of this hostile state of feeling,
and were constantly anticipating some outbreak or act of violence.
Besides, it was but a few years since the thing they now feared did
actually take place. And then, too, the point first aimed at was
significant, and showed a boldness founded on conscious strength. Right
inside the fort itself, and to the Governor's house, the torch was
applied. It certainly looked ominous. Besides, the very wholesale manner
in which the authorities thought it best to go to work increased the
panic. In a very short time over a hundred persons were thrown into
prison. The same proportion to the population to-day would be over ten
thousand. Such a wholesale arrest would, of itself, throw New York into
the wildest excitement, and conjure up all sorts of horrible shapes. Add
to this, an average of two hundred burned at the stake, and two hundred
hung every week, or more than fifty a day, and nearly three times that
number sentenced to transportation, and one can faintly imagine what a
frightful state of things would exist in the city. The very atmosphere
grew stifling from the smoke of burning men and women, while the gallows
groaned under its weight of humanity. Had this been the wild work of a
mob it would have been terrible enough, but when it was the result of a
deliberate judicial tribunal, which was supposed to do nothing except on
the most conclusive evidence, the sense of danger was increased tenfold.
The conclusion was inevitable, that the conspiracy embraced every black
man in the city, and was thoroughly organized. In short, the whole place
was, beyond doubt, resting over a concealed volcano, and the instinct of
self-preservation demanded the most summary work. Let the inhabitants of
any city become thoroughly possessed of such an idea, and they will act
with no more prudence or reason than the people of New York at that
time did. An undoubted belief in such a state of things will confuse
the perceptions and unbalance the judgment of a community anywhere and
everywhere on the globe.

Still, consistent as it is with human history, one can hardly believe
it possible, as he stands in New York to-day, that men have there been
burned at the stake under the sanction of English law, or left to swing
and rot in the winds of heaven, by order of the Supreme Court of the
city.



CHAPTER III.


THE STAMP-ACT RIOT OF 1765.

Thorough Understanding of the Principles of Liberty by the People.--The
Stamp Act.--How viewed by the Colonists.--Colden strengthens Fort George
in Alarm.--Arrival of the Stamps.--How the News was received by the Sons
of Liberty.--A Bold Placard.--Stamp Distributor frightened.--Patriotic
Action of the Merchants.--Public Demonstration against the Stamp
Act.--Colden takes Refuge in the Fort.--Dare not fire on the
People.--The People at the Gate demand the Stamps.--Colden and Lord Bute
hung in Effigy.--Colden's Coach-house broken open.--The Images placed in
the Coach, and dragged with Shouts through the Streets.--Hung again in
Sight of the Fort.--A Bonfire made of the Fence around Bowling
Green, and the Governor's Carriages, while the Garrison look silently
on.--Prejudice against Coaches.--Major James' House sacked.--Great Joy
and Demonstration at the Repeal of the Stamp Act.--Celebration of the
King's Birthday.--Loyalty of the People.--Mutiny Act.--A Riot becomes a
Great Rebellion.

At the present day, when personal ambition takes the place of
patriotism, and love of principle gives way to love of party; when the
success of the latter is placed above constitutional obligations and
popular rights, one seems, as he turns back to our early history, to be
transported to another age of the world, and another race of beings.

Nothing shows how thoroughly understood by the common people were the
principles of liberty, and with what keen penetration they saw through
all shams and specious reasoning, than the decided, nay, fierce, stand
they took against the stamp act. This was nothing more than our present
law requiring a governmental stamp on all public and business paper
to make it valid. The only difference is, the former was levying a
tax without representation--in other words, without the consent of the
governed. The colonies assembled in Congress condemned it; hence the
open, violent opposition to it by the people rises above the level of a
common riot, and partakes more of the nature of a righteous revolution.
Still, it was a riot, and exhibited the lawless features of one.

The news of the determination of the English Government to pass a
stamp act, raised a storm of indignation throughout the colonies, from
Massachusetts to South Carolina, and it was denounced as an oppressive,
unrighteous, tyrannical measure. From the wayside tavern and the pulpit
alike, it was attacked with unsparing severity. The Government, however,
thought it a mere ebullition of feeling, that would not dare exhibit
itself in open opposition. Nor does this confidence seem strong, when we
remember the weakness of the colonies on the one side, and the strength
of an organized government, with the law and force both, on the other.

Cadwallader Colden, a Scotchman by birth, and a clergyman by profession,
was at that time acting Governor of New York; and to guard against any
resort to force on the part of the people when the stamps should arrive,
had Fort George, on the Battery, reinforced by a regiment from Crown
Point, its magazines replenished, the ramparts strengthened, and its
guns trained on the town. The people saw all this, and understood its
import; but it had the opposite effect from that which was intended,
for, instead of overawing the people, it exasperated them.

At length, in October, 1765, a ship with the British colors flying came
sailing up the bay, and anchored off Fort George. In a short time the
startling tidings was circulated, that she brought a quantity of stamps.
It was like sounding an alarm-bell, and the streets became thronged
with excited men, while all the provincial vessels in the harbor lowered
their colors to half-mast, in token of mourning. In anticipation of this
event, an organization of men had been formed, called "Sons of Liberty."
They at once assembled, and resolved at all hazards to get hold of those
stamps. They had caused the act itself to be hawked about the streets as
"the folly of England and the ruin of America," and now they determined
to measure their strength with the Governor of the colony. That night,
when the town was wrapped in slumber, they quietly affixed on the doors
of every public office and on corners of the streets, the following
placard:

PRO PATRIA.

_The first man that either distributes or makes use of stamped paper,
let him take care of his house, person, and effects._

VOX POPULI.

"WE DARE."

To the stamp distributors they said, "Assure yourselves, the spirit of
Brutus and Cassius is yet alive. We will not submit to the stamp act
upon any account or in any instance."

McEvers, the head stamp distributor, frightened by the bold, determined
attitude of the people, refused to receive the stamps, and Golden had
them sent for greater safety to Fort George. He had written, to the
British Secretary, "_I am resolved to have the stamps distributed_." But
the people were equally resolved they should not be. Still, on the 30th
day of October, he and all the royal governors took the oath to carry
the stamp act into effect; but they soon discovered that they could find
no one bold enough to act as distributor. All along the sea-coast,
in every part of the colonies, the people were aroused, and either
assembling quietly, or called together by the ringing of bells and
firing of cannon, presented such a united, determined front, that not
one person remained duly commissioned to distribute stamps. On the
last day of October, the merchants of New York came together, and
bound themselves to "send no new orders for goods or merchandise, to
countermand all former orders, and not even receive goods on commission,
unless the stamp act be repealed"--that is, give up commerce at once,
with all its wealth and benefits, rather than submit to a tax of a few
shillings on paper.

Friday, the 1st of November, was the day fixed upon for a public
demonstration of the people throughout the colonies against it, and
never dawned a morning more pregnant with the fate not only of a nation,
but of the world.

From New Hampshire to South Carolina it was ushered in by the tolling of
muffled bells, the firing of minute-guns, and flags hung at half-mast.
Eulogies were pronounced on liberty, and everywhere people left their
shops and fields, and gathered in excited throngs to discuss the great
question of taxation.

"Even the children at their games, though hardly able to speak, caught
up the general chorus, and went along the streets, merrily carolling:
'Liberty, Property, and no Stamps.'" [Footnote: Bancroft.]

In New York the uprising was terrific, for the population rushed
together as one man--as Gage, the commander of Fort George said, "by
thousands."

The sailors flocked in from the vessels, the farmers from the country,
and the shouts, and ringing of bells, and firing of cannon made the city
fairly tremble. Colden was terrified at the storm that was raised, and
took refuge in the fort. An old man, bent and bowed with the weight
of eighty years, he tottered nervously to the shelter of its guns, and
ordered up a detachment of marines from a ship of war in port, for his
protection. In his indignation, he wanted to fire on the people, and the
black muzzles of the cannon pointing on the town had an ominous look.
Whether he had threatened to do so by a message, we do not know; at any
rate, the people either suspected his determination or got wind of it,
for during the day an unknown person handed in at the fort-gate a
note, telling him if he did, the people would hang him, like Porteus of
Edinburgh, on a sign-post. He wisely forebore to give the order, for if
he had not, his gray hairs would have streamed from a gibbet.

At length the day of turmoil wore away, and night came on, but with it
came no diminution of the excitement. Soon as it was dark, the "Sons of
Liberty," numbering thousands, surged tumultuously up around the fort,
and demanded that the stamps should be given up that they might be
destroyed. Golden bluntly refused, when with loud, defiant shouts they
left, and went up Broadway to "the field" (the present Park), where they
erected a gibbet, and hanged on it Colden in effigy, and beside him a
figure holding a boot; some said to represent the devil, others Lord
Bute, of whom the _boot_, by a pun on his name, showed for whom the
effigy was designed.

The demonstration had now become a riot, and the Sons of Liberty
degenerated into a mob. The feeling that had been confined to words all
day must now have some outlet. A torchlight procession was formed, and
the scaffold and images taken down, and borne on men's shoulders
along Broadway towards the Battery. The glare of flaring lights on the
buildings and faces of the excited crowd, the shouts and hurrahs that
made night hideous, called out the entire population, which gazed in
amazement on the strange, wild spectacle.

They boldly carried the scaffold and effigies to within a few feet of
the gate of the fort, and knocked audaciously for admission. Isaac Sears
was the leader of these "Sons of Liberty."

Finding themselves unable to gain admittance, they went to the
Governor's carriage-house, and took out his elegant coach, and placing
the two effigies in it, dragged it by hand around the streets by the
light of torches, amid the jeers and shouts of the multitude. Becoming
at last tired of this amusement, they returned towards the fort, and
erected a second gallows, on which they hung the effigies the second
time.

All this time the cannon, shotted and primed, lay silent on their
carriages, while the soldiers from the ramparts looked wonderingly, idly
on. General Gage did not dare to fire on the people, fearing they would
sweep like an inundation over the ramparts, when he knew a general
massacre would follow.

The mob now tore down, the wooden fence that surrounded Bowling Green,
and piling pickets and boards together, set them on fire. As the flames
crackled and roared in the darkness, they pitched on the Governor's
coach, with the scaffold and effigies; then hastening to his
carriage-house again, and dragging out a one-horse chaise, two sleighs,
and other vehicles, hauled them to the fire, and threw them on, making a
conflagration that illumined the waters of the bay and the ships riding
at anchor. This was a galling spectacle to the old Governor and the
British officers, but they dared not interfere.

What was the particular animosity against those carriages does not
appear, though it was the only property of the Governor they destroyed,
unless they were a sign of that aristocratic pride which sought to
enslave them. There were, at this time, not a half-dozen coaches in the
city, and they naturally became the symbols of bloated pride. It is
said the feeling was so strong against them, that a wealthy Quaker named
Murray, who lived out of town, near where the distributing reservoir now
is, kept one to ride down town in, yet dared not call it a coach, but a
"_leathern convenience_."

Although Sears and other leaders of the Sons of Liberty tried to
restrain the mob, their blood was now up, and they were bent on
destruction. Having witnessed the conflagration of the Governor's
carriages, they again marched up Broadway, and some one shouting
"James' house," the crowd took up the shout, and passing out of the city
streamed through the open country, to where West Broadway now is, and
near the corner of Anthony Street. This James was Major in the Royal
Artillery, and had made himself obnoxious to the people by taking a
conspicuous part in putting the fort into a state of defence. He had a
beautiful residence here, which the mob completely gutted, broke up
his elegant furniture, destroyed his library and works of art, and laid
waste his ornamented grounds. They then dispersed, and the city became
quiet.

The excitement was, however, not quelled--the people had not yet got
hold of the stamps, which they were determined to have. Colden, having
seen enough of the spirit of the "Sons of Liberty," was afraid to risk
another night, even in the fort, unless it was in some way appeased;
and so the day after the riot, he had a large placard posted up, stating
that he should have nothing more to do with the stamps, but would leave
them with Sir Henry Moore, the newly appointed Governor, then on his way
from England.

This, however, did not satisfy the Sons of Liberty: they wanted the
stamps themselves, and through Sears, their leader, insisted on their
being given up--telling him very plainly if he did not they would storm
the fort, and they were determined to do it.

The Common Council of the city now became alarmed at the ungovernable,
desperate spirit of the mob, which seemed bent on blood, and begged the
Governor to let them be deposited in the City Hall. To this he finally
though reluctantly consented, but the feeling in the city kept at fever
heat, and would remain so until the act itself was repealed.

Moore, the new Governor, soon arrived, and assumed the reigns of
government. The corporation offered him the freedom of the city in a
gold box, but he refused to receive it, unless upon stamped paper.
It was evident he was determined to enforce the stamp act. But on
consulting with Colden and others, and ascertaining the true state
of things, he wisely abandoned his purpose, and soon made it publicly
known. To appease the people still more, he dismantled the fort, which
was peculiarly obnoxious to them from the threatening attitude it had
been made to assume. Still, the infamous act was unrepealed, and the
people refused to buy English manufactures, and commerce languished.

At length, Parliament, finding that further insistance in carrying out
the obnoxious act only worked mischief, had repealed it. When the news
reached New York, the most unbounded joy was manifested. Bells were
rung, cannon fired, and placards posted, calling on a meeting of the
citizens the next day to take measures for celebrating properly the
great event. At the appointed time, the people came together at Howard's
Hotel, and forming a procession, marched gayly to "the field," and right
where the City Hall now stands, then an open lot, a salute of twenty-one
guns was fired. A grand dinner followed, at which the Sons of Liberty
feasted and drank loyal toasts to his Majesty, and all went "merry as a
marriage-bell." The city was illuminated, and bonfires turned the night
into day. In a few weeks, the King's birthday was celebrated with great
display. A huge pile of wood was erected in the Park, and an ox roasted
whole for the people. Cart after cart dumped its load of beer on the
ground, till twenty-five barrels, flanked by a huge hogshead of rum, lay
in a row, presided over by men appointed to deal out the contents to the
populace. A boisterous demonstration followed that almost drowned the
roar of the twenty-one cannon that thundered forth a royal salute. As
a fitting wind-up to the bacchanalian scene, at night twenty-five
tar-barrels, fastened on poles, blazed over the "common," while
brilliant fireworks were exhibited at Bowling Green. The feasting
continued late in the night, and so delighted were the "Sons of
Liberty," that they erected a mast, inscribed "to his most gracious
Majesty, George the Third, Mr. Pitt, and Liberty." A petition was also
signed to erect a statue to Pitt, and the people seemed determined by
this excess of loyalty to atone for their previous rebellious spirit.
The joy, however, was of short duration--the news of the riots caused
Parliament to pass a "mutiny act," by which troops were to be quartered
in America in sufficient numbers to put down any similar demonstration
in future, a part of the expense of their support to be paid by the
colonists themselves. This exasperated "the Sons of Liberty", and they
met and resolved to resist this new act of oppression to the last. The
troops arrived in due time, and of course collisions took place between
them and the people. Matters now continued to grow worse and worse,
until the "riot of the Sons of Liberty" became a revolution, which
dismembered the British Empire, and established this great republic, the
influence of which on the destiny of the world no one can predict.



CHAPTER IV.


DOCTORS' RIOT, 1788.

Body-snatching.--Bodies dug up by Medical Students.--Excitement of the
People.--Effect of the Discovery of a human Limb from the Hospital.--Mob
ransack the Building.--Destruction of Anatomical Specimens.--Arrival
of Mayor, and Imprisonment of Students.--Second Day.--Examination
of Columbia College and Physicians' Houses.--Appeal of the Mayor and
distinguished Citizens to the Mob.--Mob attempt to break into Jail and
seize the Students.--The Fight.--The Military called out.--Beaten by the
Mob.--Larger Military Force called out.--Attacked by the Mob.--Deadly
Firing.--Great Excitement.--Flight of Doctors and Students.

In former times "body-snatching," or digging up bodies for dissections,
was much, more heard of than at present. The fear of it was so great,
that often, in the neighborhood where medical students were pursuing
their studies, persons who lost friends would have a watch kept over
their graves for several nights, to prevent them from being dug up.
Neither the high social position of parties nor sex was any barrier to
this desecration of graves, and the public mind was often shocked by
accounts of the young and beautiful being disinterred, to be cut up by
medical students. In the city there was, a few years ago--and perhaps
there is now--a regular commercial price for bodies.

[Illustration: THE NEW YORK HOSPITAL.--Scene of the Doctors' Riot.
Located formerly on Broadway at the head of Pearl Street.]

[Illustration: THE  ORPHAN ASYLUM 143d St. The former building
destroyed during the Draft Riot of 1863.]

Although it was conceded that for thorough instruction in medical
science, subjects for dissection were necessary, yet no one outside of
the medical profession could be found to sanction "bodysnatching."
There is a sacredness attached to the grave that the most hardened
feel. Whenever the earth is thrown over the body of a man, no matter how
abject or sinful he may have been, the involuntary exclamation of every
one is "_requiescat in pace_." When, it comes to be one of our own
personal friends, a parent, sister, or child, to this feeling of
sacredness is added that of affection, and no wrong is like that of
invading the tomb of those we love. Shakespeare left his curse for
him who should disturb his bones; and all feel like cursing those
who disturb the bones of friends who are linked to them by blood and
affection.

In the winter of 1787 and 1788, medical students of New York City dug up
bodies more frequently than usual, or were more reckless in their mode
of action, for the inhabitants became greatly excited over the stories
that were told of their conduct. Some of these, if true, revealed a
brutality and indecency, shocking as it was unnecessary. Usually,
the students had contented themselves with ripping open the graves of
strangers and <DW64>s, about whom there was little feeling; but this
winter they dug up respectable people, even young women, of whom they
made an indecent exposure.

The stories did not lose anything by repetition, and soon the conduct of
physicians and medical students became a town talk. There seemed to be
no remedy for this state of things; the graveyards, which were then in
the heart of the city, were easily accessible; while plenty of men could
be found, who, for a small sum, would dig up any body that was desired.
A mere accident caused this state of feeling to culminate and suddenly
break out into action. In the spring, some boys were playing in the
rear of the hospital, when a young surgeon, from a mere whim, showed an
amputated arm to them. One of them, impelled by curiosity, immediately
mounted a ladder that stood against the wall, used in making some
repairs, when the surgeon told him to look at his mother's arm. The
little fellow's mother had recently died, and filled with terror, he
immediately hastened to his father, who was a mason, and working at the
time in Broadway. The father at once went to his wife's grave, and had
it opened. He found the body gone, and returned to his fellow-workmen
with the news. They were filled with rage, and, armed with tools, and
gathering a crowd as they marched, they surged up around the hospital.

At first many seemed to be impelled only by curiosity, but as the throng
increased, the masons became eager for decisive action. Threats and
denunciations began to arise on every side, and then appeals for
vengeance, till at length they rushed for the door, and pouring into
the building, began the work of destruction. For a while there was
a terrible rattling of bones, as they tore down, and smashed every
anatomical specimen they could lay their hands on. Valuable imported
ones shared the common fate. They swarmed through the building, and
finally came upon fresh subjects, apparently but just dug up. This
kindled their rage tenfold, and the students, who thus far had been
unmolested, were in danger of being roughly handled.

The news of the gathering of the crowd and its threatening aspect, had
reached the Mayor, who immediately summoned the sheriff, and taking
him with several prominent citizens, hastened to the spot. Finding the
students in the hands of the infuriated mob, he released them, and to
the satisfaction, apparently, of the rioters, sent them to jail for
safe-keeping.

There was now nothing left for them to do, and they dispersed, and the
matter was thought to be ended.

But, during the evening, knots of men were everywhere discussing the
events of the day, and retailing the exciting reports that were now
flying thickly around; and next morning, whether from any concert of
action, or impelled by mere curiosity, is not known, crowds began to
fill the street and yard in front of the city hospital. The discovery
of the bodies the day before had deepened the excitement, and now a
more thorough examination of the building was proposed, and also an
examination of the physicians' houses. Matters were beginning to wear
a serious aspect, and the Governor, Mayor, Chancellor, and some of the
prominent citizens of the town, came together to consult on a course of
action. It was finally resolved to resort in a body to the spot where
the mob was assembled, and make a personal appeal to it. They did so,
and presented an imposing appearance as they advanced up Broadway.
Although representing the State and city, they did not presume on their
authority, but attempted persuasion. Mounting the steps, they in
turn addressed the throng, which now kept momentarily increasing, and
exhorted them as law-abiding citizens to use no violence. Some made
most pathetic appeals to their feelings, their pride and self-respect;
indeed, begged them, by every consideration of home and justice, to
desist, and retire peacefully to their homes. They solemnly promised
that a most thorough investigation should be made, and they should have
all the satisfaction the laws could afford. More they ought not to ask.
These appeals and promises produced a favorable effect on many of the
mob, and they left. But the greater part refused to be pacified. Their
blood was up, and they insisted on making the examination themselves.
They did not propose to commit any violence, but having begun their
investigations they were determined to go through with them.

The Mayor and the Governor seemed to have an unaccountable repugnance
to the use of force, and let the mob depart for Columbia College without
any resistance. The professors and students were amazed at this sudden
inundation of the crowd, who swarmed without opposition through every
part of the building. Finding nothing to confirm their suspicions, they
left without doing any material injury. Still unsatisfied, however, they
repaired to the houses of the neighboring physicians, and the leaders,
acting as a delegation of the crowd, went through them with the same
result. It was a singularly well-behaved mob, and they received the
report of the self-constituted committees with apparently perfect
satisfaction, and when they had made the round of the houses, gradually
broke up into knots and dispersed.

But the lawless spirit of a mob seldom arrests and controls itself.
Having once felt its strength and power, it is never satisfied till it
measures them against those of the legal authorities, and yields only
when it must. Hence, as a rule, the quicker "it feels the strong hand
of power" the better for all parties. Promising legal satisfaction, to
law-breakers is a very unsatisfactory proceeding. Obedience first and
discussion afterwards is the proper order to be observed.

The Mayor had hardly time to congratulate himself on having overcome
so easily a serious difficulty, before he found that he had not as yet
touched it. In the afternoon, the crowd again began to assemble, and
this time around the jail, with the avowed purpose of taking vengeance
on the students and physicians locked up there for safe-keeping. Having
asserted and exercised, against all law, the right of domiciliary
visits, it was but a short and easy step to assert the right to punish
also contrary to law. As they gathered in front of the jail, it was
seen that a different spirit from that which they had hitherto exhibited
ruled them. The tiger was unchained, and loud shouts and yells were
heard. "Bring out your doctors! bring out your doctors!" arose on every
side. They threatened to tear down the building unless they were given
up. The inmates became thoroughly alarmed, and barricaded the doors and
windows, and armed themselves the best way they could for self-defence.
Attempts were made to parley with the crowd, but they would listen to
nothing, and answered every appeal with loud shouts for the doctors.
What they _intended_ to do with them by way of punishment was not so
clear, though what their fate would have been, if once at their mercy,
there was little doubt. The city authorities now became alarmed, murder
was imminent, and having no police force sufficient to cope with such
a formidable mob, they decided that the city was in a state of
insurrection, and called out the military. About three o'clock, the
force marched up the street, and passed quietly through the crowd, which
opened as they advanced. As they moved past, a shower of dirt and stones
followed them, accompanied with taunts, and jeers, and mocking
laughter. The whole military movement was evidently intended only for
intimidation--to show the rioters what could be done if they resorted to
violence; for the soldiers, instead of taking up their quarters, as they
should have done, in the building, having exhibited themselves,
marched away. But the mob, still retaining its position and threatening
attitude, another force, a little later, consisting of only twelve men,
was sent up. This was worse than nothing, and as the little handful
marched solemnly up, the crowd broke out into derisive laughter, and all
sorts of contemptuous epithets were heaped upon them. Instead of waiting
for them to come near, they rushed down, the street to meet them, and
swarming like bees around them, snatched away their muskets, and broke
them to pieces on the pavement. [Footnote: John Jay and Baron Steuben
were both wounded in trying to allay the mob.] The soldiers, disarmed,
scattered, and hustled about, were glad to escape with whole bodies.

This first act of open resistance excited the rioters still more--they
had passed the Rubicon, and were now ready for anything, and "to the
jail! to the jail!" arose in wild yells, and the turbulent mass poured
like a tumultuous sea around the building. They rushed against the
doors, and with united shoulders and bodies endeavored to heave them
from their hinges. But being secured with heavy bolts and bars, they
resisted all their efforts. They then smashed in the windows with
stones, and attempted to force an entrance through them; but the handful
of men inside took possession of these, and, with such weapons as they
could find, beat them back. Numbers were of no avail here, as only a
few at a time could approach a window, while those within, being on the
defensive, knocked them back as often as they attempted to climb in.
The rioters, baffled in their attempts, would then fall back, and hurl
paving-stones and bricks at the windows, when those who defended them
would step one side. But the moment the former advanced again, the
latter would crowd the windows with clubs and sticks. The enraged
assailants tore off pickets, and advancing with these, made desperate
efforts to clear the windows. But those within knew it was a matter of
life and death with them, and stubbornly held their ground. The fight
was thus kept up till dark, amid yells and shouts and a pandemonium of
noises, and no efforts apparently were made to put an end to it, and
release the inmates of the jail. But steps had been taken to organize
and arm a large body of militia under an experienced officer, and now
in the dim starlight their bayonets were seen gleaming, as they marched
steadily forward on the dark, heaving mass that filled the street far as
the eye could see. The rioters, however, instead of being intimidated at
the sight, sent up a yell of defiance, and arming themselves with stones
and brick-bats, hurled them in a blinding volley on the troops. So
fierce was the assault, that before the latter had time to form, many
were knocked down, and some badly wounded. The commanding officer,
finding the fight thus forced on him, gave the order in a ringing voice,
"Ready, aim, fire!" A flash broad as the street followed, lighting up
the gloom, and revealing the scowling faces of the mob, the battered
front of the jail, and the pale faces of those guarding the windows.
They had not expected this close, point-blank volley, for the timid
action of the authorities had not prepared them for it, and they stopped
in amazement and hesitation. The commanding officer understood his
business, and instead of waiting to see if they would disperse, poured
in another volley. The rioters were confounded as they saw their
comrades fall by their side, but still stood at bay; until at last,
seeing the dead and wounded on every side, they could stand it no
longer, but broke and fled in every direction. In a few minutes the
street was clear of all but the dead and wounded, the groans of the
latter loading the night air. The poor wretches were carried away, and
the troops remained on the spot all night. The next day the city was in
a fever of excitement. The number of killed was greatly exaggerated,
and the denunciations of the butchery, as it was called, were fierce and
loud. On almost every corner groups of excited men were seen in angry
discussion--multitudes gathered in front of the jail, and gazed with
horror on the blood-stained pavement.

The soldiers who had committed the slaughter were cursed and threatened
by turns, but they quietly rested on their arms, ready, it was evident,
to repeat the experiment at the first open act of violence. For awhile
there was danger of a general outbreak throughout the city; but
the authorities had become thoroughly aroused to the danger of the
situation, and seeing that the quicker they brought the conflict to a
close, the better, made such a display of force, that the riotous spirit
was overawed. Still, it was not entirely subdued, and it was evident
that it was kept under by fear alone. The physicians of the city came in
for almost as large a share of the hatred as the military. They were the
original cause of the disturbance, and threats against them became so
open and general, that they were in constant dread of personal violence,
and many fled from the city. They scattered in every direction, and
there threatened to be a general Hegira of physicians. All the medical
students were secretly stowed into carriages, and hurried off into the
country, where they remained till the excitement died away. It did not,
however, subside readily; indeed, the danger of open revolt was so great
for several days, that the military continued to keep guard at the jail.



CHAPTER V.


SPRING ELECTION RIOTS OF 1834.

Fatal Error in our Naturalization Laws.--Our Experiment of Self
government not a fair one.--Fruit of giving Foreigners the Right
to Vote.--Bitter Feeling between Democrats and Whigs.--First Day of
Election.--Ships "Constitution" and "Veto."--Whigs driven from the
Polls.--Excitement.--Whigs determined to defend themselves.--Meeting
called.--Resolutions.--Second Day's Election.--Attack on the Frigate
"Constitution."--A Bloody Fight.--Mayor and Officers wounded.--Mob
triumphant.--Excitement of the Whigs.--The Streets blocked by fifteen
thousand enraged Whigs.--Military called out.--Occupy Arsenal and
City Hall all Night.--Result of the Election.--Excitement of the
Whigs.--Mass-meeting in Castle Garden.

This country never committed a more fatal mistake than in making
its naturalization laws so that the immense immigration from foreign
countries could, after a brief sojourn, exercise the right of suffrage.
Our form of government was an experiment, in the success of which not
only we as a nation were interested, but the civilized world. To have
it a fair one, we should have been allowed to build and perfect the
structure with our own material, not pile into it such ill-formed,
incongruous stuff as the despotisms of Europe chose to send us. Growing
up by a natural process, educating the people to the proper exercise of
their high trust, correcting mistakes, and adjusting difficulties as
we progressed, the noble building would have settled into greater
compactness as it arose in height, and all its various proportions been
in harmony. We should have built slowly but surely. But when there
was thrown upon us a mass of material wholly unfit for any political
structure, and we were compelled to pile it in hap-hazard, it was
not long before the goodly edifice began to show ugly seams, and the
despotisms of Europe pointed to them with scorn, and asked tauntingly
how the doctrine of self-government worked. They emptied their prisons
and poor-houses on our shores, to be rid of a dangerous element at home,
and we, with a readiness that bordered on insanity, not only took them
into our bosoms, but invited them to aid us in making our laws and
electing our rulers. To ask men, the greater part of whom could neither
read nor write, who were ignorant of the first principles of true civil
liberty, who could be bought and sold like sheep in the shambles, to
assist us in founding a model republic, was a folly without a parallel
in the history of the world, and one of which we have not yet begun to
pay the full penalty. It was a cruel wrong, not only to ourselves, but
to the oppressed masses of Europe, who turned their longing eyes on us
for encouragement and the moral aid which our success would give them in
their struggles against despotism.

If the reason given for endowing this floating population--and dangerous
element under any circumstances--with the full rights of citizens had
been the true one, namely: to be just to them, and consistent with the
great doctrine of equality on which our Government rested, there might
be some little comfort in reflecting on the mistake we made. But this
was false. The right of suffrage was given them by a party in order to
secure their votes, and secure them, too, by appealing to those very
passions that made them dangerous to the republic, and which
the interest of all alike required should be removed instead of
strengthened.

All the good the Democratic party has ever done this country will hardly
compensate for the evil of this one act.

If our experiment shall finally prove a failure, we verily believe it
will be owing to the extension of the political franchise to whites and
blacks who were unfit to use it, and cared for it not because of its
honor, or the good use to which it might be put, but as a piece of
merchandise to be sold to the highest bidder or used as a weapon of
assault against good order and righteous laws.

Of course, the first pernicious effect of this transfer of power to
ignorant, reckless men would be felt at the polls in New York City,
where this class was in the greatest number. The elections here soon
became a farce, and the boasted glory of a free ballot-box a taunt and
a by-word. That gross corruption and villany practised here should
eventually result in the open violation of law, as it did in the charter
election of 1834, was natural.

Political animosity was probably more bitter between the Democrats,
under Jackson's administration, and the Whigs, than between any two
political parties since the time of Federalists and Democrats, in the
days of the elder Adams.

In the spring of 1834 especially, party spirit ran very high in the
city. As usual, for a month or more before the election, which took
place on the second Tuesday in April, all kinds of accusations and
rumors were afloat. There was no registry law, and comparatively few
places for the polls, so that there could be little check on voting, no
end to repeating, while the gathering of an immense crowd around each
place of voting became inevitable. At this election, there was a split
in the Democratic party, Mr. Verplanck being the candidate of the
Independent Democrats, and Mr. Lawrence of the "Tammany."

The most extensive preparations were made on both sides for the
conflict, and it was generally expected there would be a personal
collision in some of the wards.

Tuesday, the 8th of April, dawned dark and stormy, and the rain began to
fall heavily, at times coming down in torrents. But to such a fever
heat had the public feeling been carried, that no one seemed to heed the
storm. The stores were closed, business of all kinds suspended; while
the streets were black with men hurrying to the polls. At twelve o'clock
the American flag was hoisted on the Exchange, when the building became
deserted, and all gathered at the places where the voting was going on.
Men stood in long lines, extending clear out into the street, patiently
enduring the pelting rain, waiting till their turn came to vote.

The famous expression of Jackson, "Perish credit, perish commerce,"
had been taken out of the connection in which it was used, and paraded
everywhere. The sailors had been enlisted in the struggle, and rigged
up a beautiful little frigate in complete order, and named it the
"Constitution." Mounting it on wheels, several hundred of them paraded
it through the streets and past the polls. As they passed through
Wall Street, thundering cheers greeted them, and the excited populace,
heedless of the rain, fell into the procession, till it swelled to
thousands, who, with songs and shouts, followed after. Fearful of the
effect of this demonstration on the voters, the Jackson men hastily
rigged out a boat, surmounted by a flag on which was painted in large
characters, "Veto;" and "Constitution" and "Veto" sailed after
each other through the city. This should have been prevented by the
authorities, for it was impossible for these two processions to meet
without a fight occurring, while it was equally certain that the Whig
one would be attacked, if it attempted to pass the polls in those
wards in which the roughs had the control. But the "Hickory poles" had
inaugurated a new mode of carrying on political campaigns. Appeals were
made to the senses, and votes obtained by outward symbols, rather
than by the discussion of important political questions. This mode of
electioneering culminated with the log-cabin excitement.

In the Eleventh Ward, the Jackson party had two private doors through
which to admit their voters to the polls, while bullies kept back from
the main entrance the Independent Republicans. In most of the strong
Jackson wards, where it was all on one side, the voting went on
peaceably enough, but in the Sixth, it was soon evident that a storm was
inevitable. Oaths and threats and yells of defiance made the polls
here seem more like an object on which a mob was seeking to wreak its
vengeance, than a place where freemen were depositing their votes under
sanction of law. The babel of sound continued to grow worse in spite
of the rain, and swelled louder and louder, till at last the Jackson
roughs, headed by an ex-alderman, made a rush for the committee room
where their opponents were assembled. Some of them were armed with
clubs, and others with knives, which they brandished fiercely as they
burst into the room. Before the members could offer any resistance, they
were assailed with such fury, that in a short time nearly twenty were
stretched bleeding and maimed on the floor; one so badly wounded that
he was carried out lifeless, and apparently dead. It was a savage
onslaught, and those who escaped injury reached the street hatless,
and with coats half-torn from their backs. The mob, now being complete
masters of the room, tore down all the banners, destroyed the ballots,
and made a complete wreck of everything. The Whig leaders, enraged at
such dastardly, insulting treatment, despatched a messenger in all haste
to the Mayor for help, but he replied that he could not furnish it, as
all the available force was away in other sections of the city on duty.
The excitement among the Whigs now became fearful, and they determined
to take the matter in their own hands. The election was to last three
days, and they concluded to let the polls, when the mob entered, take
care of themselves the balance of the day, and organize a plan for
self-protection on the morrow.

A call was at once issued for a meeting at Masonic Hall, and that night
four thousand Whigs packed the building, from limit to limit. General
Bogardus was called to the chair, who, after stating the object of
the meeting, and describing the conduct of the mob in the Sixth Ward,
offered the following resolutions:

"_Whereas_, The authority of the POLICE of the city has been set at
defiance by a band of _hirelings, mercenaries_, and _bullies_ in the
Sixth Ward, and the LIVES of our citizens put in jeopardy. And _whereas_
it is evident that we are in a state of anarchy, which requires the
prompt and efficient interposition of every friend of good order who is
disposed to sustain the constitution and laws, therefore, be it

"_Resolved_, That in order to preserve the _peace_ of the city, and
especially of the Sixth Ward, the friends of the constitution and
the liberties of the citizen will meet at this place (Masonic Hall),
to-morrow (Wednesday), at half-past seven o'clock A.M., and repair to
the Sixth Ward poll, for the _purpose of keeping it open to_ ALL VOTERS
until such time as the official authorities may 'procure a sufficient
number of special constables to keep the peace.'

"_Resolved_, That while at the Sixth Ward poll, those who are not
residents thereof will not take part in the election, but simply act as
_conservators of the peace_, until such times as the MAJESTY OF THE LAWS
shall be acknowledged and respected."

These resolutions were carried with acclamations and shouts and stamping
of feet.

There was no bluster in these resolutions, but their meaning was
apparent enough, and the city authorities understood it. From that hall,
next morning, would march at least five or six thousand determined men,
and if the mob rallied in force, to repeat the action of the day before,
there would be one of the bloodiest fights that ever disgraced the city.
It was believed that the great mass of the rioters were Irishmen, and
the thought that native-born Americans should be driven from their own
ballot-box by a herd of foreigners, aroused the intensest indignation.
It was an insult that could not and should not be tolerated.

The next morning, at half-past seven, Masonic Hall was filled to
repletion. The excitement can be imagined, when such a crowd could be
gathered at this early hour.

In the Ninth Ward a meeting was also called, and a resolution passed,
tendering a committee of one hundred to the general committee; that,
with a committee of the same number from each of the fourteen wards of
the city, would make a battalion eighteen hundred strong, to be ready at
a moment's notice, to march to any poll "to protect the sacred right of
suffrage."

These measures had their desired effect. The presence of large bodies of
men at the different polls, for the purpose of protecting them, overawed
the unorganized mob, although in some of the wards attempts were made to
get up a riot. Stones and clubs were thrown, and one man stabbed; it was
thought at the time fatally. The Sixth Ward, "the Bloody Sixth," as
it was called, was the point of greatest danger, and thither the Mayor
repaired in person, accompanied by the sheriff and a large posse, and
remained the greater part of the day. Threats and opprobrious epithets
were freely used, and occasionally a paving-stone would be hurled from
some one on the outskirts of the crowd; but the passage to the polls
was kept open, and by one o'clock the citizens could deposit their votes
without fear of personal violence.

The evil of having the election continue three days now became more
apparent than ever. The disorderly class, "the roughs," by their
protracted drinking, became more and more maddened, and hence riper for
more desperate action. This second night was spent by them in carousing,
and the next morning they turned out to the polls, not only ready, but
eager for a fight. Early in the forenoon, the frigate "Constitution"
was again on its voyage through the streets, followed by a crowd. As
it passed Masonic Hall, the head-quarters of the Whig Committee, it was
saluted with cheers. This was followed by a rush upon it, on the part of
the mob, who attempted to destroy it. The Whigs inside of the building,
seeing the attack, poured forth with a loud cheer, and fell on the
assailants with such fury, that they turned and fled. The news of what
was passing, had, in the meantime, reached the Sixth Ward folks, and
a shout was raised for followers. Instantly a huge crowd, composed of
dirty, ragged, savage-looking men, broke away with discordant yells, and
streamed up Duane Street towards the building, picking up paving-stones
and brick-bats, and pulling down pickets as they ran. Coming in sight of
the little frigate, they raised a shout and dashed on it. The procession
had now passed the hall, but the Whigs, informed of what was going
on, again sallied forth to the help of the sailors, who were fighting
manfully against overwhelming odds. But they were soon overpowered, and
again took refuge in the hall. This was now assailed, and stones came
crashing through the windows. The Mayor was sent for, and soon appeared
with the sheriff, backed by forty watchmen. Mounting the steps, he held
up his staff of office, and commanded the peace. But the half-drunken
mob had now got beyond the fear of the mere symbol of authority, and
answered him with a shower of stones, and then charged on the force that
surrounded him. A fierce and bloody fight followed. Citizens rushed out
to the help of the Mayor, while the watchmen fell on the mob with their
clubs. They soon stretched on the pavement more than their own number,
but the odds against them was too great. The Mayor received a wound--ten
or fifteen watchmen besides citizens were wounded--Captains Stewart,
Munson, and Flaggs, badly injured, the latter with his skull horribly
fractured, ribs broken, and face cut up. A few of the rioters were
arrested, but the great mass broke through all opposition, and streaming
into the hall, forced the committee to creep through back passages and
windows.

The news of this high-handed outrage was carried like the wind to the
lower anti-Democratic wards, and the excited Whigs came streaming up,
until Duane, Elm, Pearl, Cross, Augustus, and Chatham Streets, up to
Broadway, were black with determined, enraged citizens. Ten or fifteen
thousand were in a short time assembled, and a fearful battle seemed
inevitable. In this appalling state of things, the Mayor called a
consultation, and it was decided to declare the city in a state of
insurrection, and call on the military for help. A messenger was
immediately despatched to the Navy Yard for a company of marines.
Colonel Gamble, commanding, replied that he would be glad to comply with
the request, and put himself at their head, but that he had just sent
them on board the "Brandywine" and "Vincennes." Application was then
made to Commodore Hidgely, commander of the station; but he refused, on
the ground that he had no authority to interfere. A messenger was then
hurried across to Governor's Island for help, but he met with no better
success. As a last resort, General Sanford was now directed to call out
the city military.

All this time the crowd kept increasing, while from out its bosom came
an angry murmur like the moaning of the sea before a storm. The polls
were deserted, and it seemed impossible that the opposing forces could
be long kept apart. At length word passed through the Whigs that the mob
were about to take possession of the arsenal. Instantly several hundred
citizens made a dash for it, and occupied it. This was a brilliant piece
of strategy, and no sooner did the rioters hear of it, than they swarmed
around the building with yells and imprecations. The Whigs, however,
held it, and some of them passed out arms to their friends.

Three terrible hours had now passed since the first outbreak, and from
the Park to Duane Street, Broadway, and the cross streets on the east
side of it, were packed with excited men, their shouts, calls, and
curses rising over the dwellings in tones that sent terror to the heart.
But for the narrow streets, in which but few could come in contact,
there would doubtless have been a collision long before.

But at this critical moment a detachment of infantry and two squadrons
of cavalry came marching down Broadway, and in close column. The crowd
divided as they advanced, and they drew up before the arsenal. The
gleaming of the bayonets and the rattle of sabres had a quieting effect
on the rioters, and they began to disperse again to the polls, to watch
the progress of the voting. In the meantime, the infantry took up their
quarters at the arsenal, and the cavalry at the City Hall, for the
night.

When the polls closed at evening, the ballot-box of the Sixth Ward
was taken under a strong guard to the City Hall, and locked up for the
night. It was followed by four or five thousand excited men, but no
violence was attempted.

The election was over. For three days the city had been heaving to the
tide of human passion, and trembling on the verge of a great disaster,
and all because a few ruffians, not a fourth part of whom could probably
read or write, chose to deny the right of suffrage to American citizens,
and constitute themselves the proper representatives of the city.

But the excitement did not end with the election. It was very close, and
as the returns came in slowly, the people assembled in great numbers,
to hear them reported. The next day, till three o'clock at night, ten or
fifteen thousand people blocked Wall Street, refusing to disperse, till
they knew the result. It was finally announced that Mr. Lawrence, the
Democratic candidate, was elected by a small majority.

The next thing was to ascertain the character of the Common Council. The
same mighty throng assembled next day, forgetting everything else in the
intense interest they felt in the result. It would seem impossible
to get up such a state of feeling over the election of a few local
officers, but the city shook from limit to limit as the slow returns
came in. At last, it was announced that the Whigs had carried the Common
Council by a small majority. As the news passed through the immense
concourse, a shout vent up that shook Wall Street from Broadway to the
East River. It rolled back and forth like redoubled thunder, till every
throat was hoarse.

When the crowd at last dispersed, it was only to assemble again in
separate bodies in different parts of the city, and talk over the
victory.

Even then the excitement was not allowed to die away. The event was
too great to be permitted to pass without some especial honor, and a
mass-meeting was called in Castle Garden to celebrate it. Webster was
sent for to make a speech, the most distinguished speakers of New York
were called upon, and a day of general rejoicing followed, great as that
which succeeded Lee's surrender.



CHAPTER VI.


ABOLITION RIOTS OF 1834 AND 1835.

The Slavery Question agitated.--The End, Civil War.--The
Results.--William Lloyd Garrison.--Feeling of the People on the
Subject.--First Attempt to call a Meeting of the Abolitionists in New
York.--Meeting in Chatham Street Chapel.--A Fight.--Mob take Possession
of Bowery Theatre.--Sacking of Lewis Tappan's House.--Fight between Mob
and Police.--Mobbing of Dr. Cox's Church, in Laight Street.--His
House broken into.--Street Barricaded.--Attack on Arthur Tappan's
Store.--Second Attack on Church in Laight Street.--Church sacked in
Spring Street.--Arrival of the Military.--Barricades carried.--Mr.
Ludlow's House entered.--Mob at Five Points.--Destruction of
Houses.--The City Military called out.--Mob overawed, and Peace
restored.--Five Points Riot.--Stone-cutters' Riot.

Most of the riots of New York have grown out of causes more or less
local, and wholly transient in their nature. Hence, the object sought
to be obtained was at once secured, or abandoned altogether. But those
arising from the formation of Abolition societies, and the discussion of
the doctrine of immediate emancipation, were of a different character,
and confined to no locality or time. The spirit that produced them
developed itself in every section of the country, and the question
continued to assume vaster proportions, till the Union itself was
involved, and what was first only a conflict between the police of the
city and a few hundred or thousands of ignorant, reckless men, grew at
last into the most gigantic and terrible civil war that ever cursed
the earth. The Union was rent asunder, and State arrayed against State,
while the world looked on aghast at the strange and bloody spectacle.
The final result has been the emancipation of the slaves, and their
endowment with all the rights and privileges of American citizens. But
with this has come a frightful national debt, the destruction of that
feeling of common interest and patriotism, which is the strongest
security of a country; a contempt for the Constitution, the
concentration of power in the hands of Congress, small regard for State
rights, while the controlling power in the South has passed into the
hands of an ignorant, incapable, irresponsible class; and, worse than
all, the people have become accustomed to the strange spectacle, so
fraught with danger in a republic, of seeing the legislatures and
executives of sovereign States overawed and overborne by the national
troops. That frightful conflict for the slave has sown dangerous seed;
what the final harvest will be, the future historian alone will be able
to show.

The inconsistency of having a system of slavery incorporated into a
republican government was always felt by good men North and South, as
well as its damaging effect on the social and political well-being
of the whole community; and steps had been taken both in Virginia
and Kentucky to do away with it by legislative action. Whether these
incipient steps would ever have ended in relieving us of the evil,
can only be conjectured. We only know that a peaceable solution of the
question was rendered impossible, by the action of the Abolitionists, as
they were called, who, governed by the short logic, that slavery being
wrong, it could not exist a moment without sin, and therefore must be
abandoned at once without regard to consequences. The system of slavery
was no longer a social or political problem, calling for great wisdom,
prudence, statesmanship, and patience, but a personal crime, not to be
tolerated for a moment. The whole South was divided by them into two
classes, the oppressor and oppressed, the kidnapper and kidnapped, the
tyrant and the slave--a relationship which liberty, religion, justice,
humanity, alike demanded should be severed without a moment's delay.

These views, in the judgment of the press at the time, and of sound
statesmen, would eventually end in civil war, if adopted by the entire
North, and hence they denounced them. The Abolitionists were considered
by all as enemies to the Union, whom the lower classes felt should be
put down, if necessary, by violence. This feeling was increased by the
action of William Lloyd Garrison, the founder of the society, who went
to England, and joined with the antislavery men there in abusing this
country for its inconsistency and crime. These causes produced a state
of public feeling that would be very apt to exhibit itself on the first
opportunity. When, therefore, in the autumn of 1833, after Garrison's
return from England, a notice appeared for an antislavery meeting in
Clinton Hall, some of the most respectable men in New York determined to
attend, and crush out, by the weight of their influence, the dangerous
movement. Another class was resolved to effect the same project in
another way, and on the 2d of October the following placard was posted
in naming letters all over the city:

NOTICE

_To all persons from the South_.

All persons interested in the subject of the meeting called by J.
Leavitt, W. Goodell, W. Green, J. Rankin, Lewis Tappan,

At Clinton Hall, this evening, at 7 o'clock, are requested to attend at
the same hour and place.

MANY SOUTHERNERS.

New York, _October_ 2d, 1833.

N.B. All citizens who may feel disposed to manifest the _true_ feeling
of the State on this subject, are requested to attend.

Putting the appeal in the name of the Southerners, was an artful device
to call out the people.

At an early hour crowds began to assemble in front of Clinton Hall;
but to their surprise they found a notice nailed on the door, that no
meeting would be held. Many, seeing it, returned home; but still the
crowd continued to swell to thousands, who rent the air with shouts and
threats against Garrison. Determined not to be disappointed in a meeting
of some kind, they forced their way upstairs, till the room in which
it was to be held was crammed to suffocation. The meeting was then
organized, and waited till quarter past seven, when it was moved to
adjourn to Tammany Hall. There it was again organized, and a gentleman
was about to address the crowd, when a man stepped forward to the
president, and stated that the meeting announced to be held in Clinton
Hall was at that moment under full headway in Chatham Street Chapel.
Instantly several voices shouted, "Let us go there and rout them!" But
the chairman said they had met to pass certain resolutions, and they
should attend to this business first, and then every one could do as he
liked. The resolutions were read, and after some remarks had been
made upon them, adopted, and the meeting adjourned. A portion of those
present, however, were not satisfied, but resolved to go to the chapel
and break up the meeting there. The little handful assembled within,
apprised of their approach, fled, so that when the mob arrived, the
building, though the doors were open and the lights burning, was empty.
It immediately took possession of the room, and giving a <DW64> who was
foremost in the sport the name of one of the Abolitionists, made him
chairman. The most absurd resolutions were then offered, and carried,
when the chairman returned thanks for the honor done him amid the most
uproarious laughter, and what had threatened to be a serious riot ended
in a wild, lawless frolic.

This was the beginning of the Abolition riots in New York City,
which afterwards, to a greater or less extent, prevailed for years in
different parts of the Union.

Next summer the excitement, which during the winter had nothing to
call it forth, broke out afresh, ending in destruction of property and
bloodshed, and the calling out of the military. On the evening of the
7th of July, an assembly of <DW52> persons of both sexes occupied
Chatham Street Chapel, for the purpose of listening to a sermon from
a <DW64> preacher. The New York Sacred Music Society had leased the
building for certain evenings in the week, of which it was asserted this
was one. Justice Lowndes, of the Police Court, was president, and
Dr. Rockwell vice-president of the society, and they repaired to the
building during the evening, and finding it occupied, at once claimed
their right to it, and demanded that the blacks should leave. But the
latter, having hired and paid for it, refused to do so, when a fight
ensued, in which lamps and chairs were broken, loaded canes used
freely, and some persons seriously injured. The news of the fight spread
rapidly, and a dense crowd gathered around the door. But the police soon
arrived, and forcing their way in, drove white and black out together,
and locked up the church.

The riot, however, continued for some time in the street; but the
blacks, finding themselves outnumbered, fled, and peace was restored.

A portion of the crowd, having recognized Lewis Tappan, one of the
leading Abolitionists, followed him home with hoots and yells, and even
hurled stones at his house after he had entered it.

The next evening, at dusk, the crowd began again to assemble in front
of the chapel. But the lessee of it had closed and locked the gates. The
multitude determined, however, not to be disappointed of a meeting,
and forcing open the gates, obtained entrance. The meeting was then
organized, and Mr. William W. Wilder called to the chair. After making
a speech, in which he showed the evil effects of a sudden abolition
of slavery, by relating his experience in San Domingo, he moved an
adjournment until the next meeting of the Antislavery Society. The
motion was carried, and the assembly broke up. This was, however,
altogether too quiet a termination for a part of the crowd, and a shout
was made for the Bowery Theatre. The attacks on us by the English,
for upholding slavery, and their sympathy and aid for Garrison, and
co-operation with him in agitating the question of abolition in this
country, had rekindled the old slumbering feeling of hostility to that
country; and Mr. Farren, the stage manager of the Bowery, being an
Englishman, it was transferred to him, especially as reports had been
circulated that he had spoken disrespectfully of the Americans.

This night having been selected to give him a benefit, his enemies had
posted placards over the city, stating the fact of his hostility to this
country--whether with the intention of causing a thin house, or breaking
it up altogether, is not known. At all events, the mob resolved on the
latter course, and streaming up the Bowery in one wild, excited mass,
gathered with loud shouts in front of the theatre. The doors were closed
in their faces, but pressing against them with their immense weight,
they gave way, and like a dark, stormy wave, they surged up the aisles
toward the foot-lights. In the garish light, faces grew pale, and turned
eagerly toward the doors for a way of escape. But these were jammed with
the excited, yelling mob. The play was "Metamora," and was under full
headway, when this sudden inundation of the rioters took place. The
actors stopped, aghast at the introduction of this new, appalling scene.
Messrs. Hamlin and Forrest advanced to the front of the stage, and
attempted to address them; but apologies and entreaties were alike in
vain. The thundering shouts and yells that interrupted them were not
those of admiration, and spectators and actors were compelled to remain
silent, while this strange audience took complete possession of the
house, and inaugurated a play of their own.

But the police, having received information of what was going on, now
arrived, and forcing their way in, drove the rioters into the street,
and restored order. But the demon of lawless violence, that was now
fully raised, was not to be thus laid. Some one got hold of a bell, and
began to ring it violently. This increased the excitement, and suddenly
the shout arose, "to Arthur Tappan's." [Footnote: A silk merchant, and
one of the leading Abolitionists.] The cry was at once taken up by a
thousand voices, and the crowd started down the street. But instead of
going to his house, they went to that of his brother, Lewis, in Hose
Street, a still more obnoxious Abolitionist. Reaching it, they staved
open the doors, and smashed in the windows, and began to pitch the
furniture into the street. Chairs, sofas, tables, pictures, mirrors, and
bedding, went out one after another. But all at once a lull occurred in
the work of destruction. In pitching the pictures out, one came across
a portrait of Washington. Suddenly the cry arose, "It is Washington!
For God's sake, _don't burn Washington_!" In an instant the spirit of
disorder was laid, and the portrait was handed carefully from man to
man, till at length the populace, bearing it aloft, carried it with
shouts to a neighboring house for safety. It was one of those strange
freaks or sudden changes that will sometimes come over the wildest and
most brutal men, like a gleam of gentle light across a dark and stormy
sea--the good in man for a moment making its voice heard above the din
and strife of evil passions.

This singular episode being terminated, they returned to their work of
destruction. But suddenly the cry of "Watchmen!" was heard, and the next
moment the police came charging down the street. The mob recoiled before
it, then broke and fled, and the former took possession of the street.
But the latter, coming across some piles of brick, filled their arms and
hands full, and rallying, returned. Charging the watchmen in turn with
a blinding shower of these, they drove them from the ground. They then
kindled a fire on the pavement, and as the flames flashed up in the
darkness and gained headway, they piled on bedding and furniture, till
the whole street was illuminated with the costly bonfire. This caused
the fire-bells to be rung, and soon the engines came thundering down the
street, before which the crowd gave way. The burning furniture was then
extinguished, and the house taken possession of. It was now two o'clock
in the morning, and the mob dispersed.

The next day nothing was talked about in the saloons, groggeries, and on
the corners of the by-streets, but the events of the night before; and
as evening came on, a crowd began to assemble in front of the battered,
dilapidated house of Lewis Tappan. Another attack was imminent, when the
police came up and dispersed them. They had not, however, abandoned the
purpose for which they had assembled.

The little band of Abolitionists, that the year before had been composed
mostly of comparatively obscure men, had now increased both in
numbers and men of influence. Persecution had produced its usual
effects--advanced the cause it designed to destroy. Among other
well-known citizens who had joined their ranks were the two brothers,
Dr. Abraham Cox, M.D., and Dr. Samuel Cox, the latter, pastor of Laight
Street Church, and one of the most popular preachers of the city. Though
opposed by a large majority of his congregation, he had become known
as a bold, outspoken man against slavery; and now the mob, bent on
mischief, streamed across the city toward his church. It was dark, and
as they gathered in a black, dense mass in front of it, suddenly, as
if by a common impulse, a loud yell broke forth, and the next moment a
shower of stones and brick-bats fell on the windows. Babel was now let
loose, and, amid the crashing of window-glass, arose every variety of
sound and all kinds of calls, interspersed with oaths and curses on
"Abolitionists and <DW65>s."

Shrieks of laughter and obscene epithets helped to swell the uproar.
It was evident they would not be satisfied until they left the church
a ruin; but at this critical moment, the Mayor, Justice Lowndes, the
District Attorney, and a posse of police officers and watchmen arrived
on the ground. Expecting trouble, they had arranged to be ready at a
moment's warning to hasten to any threatened point. Their unexpected
presence frightened the crowd, and fearing arrest, they slunk away
in squads, and the danger seemed over. But, evidently by previous
arrangement, the broken fragments, arriving by different streets, came
together in front of Dr. Cox's house, in Charlton Street.

The doctor, however, was not at home. He had received warnings and
threats from various quarters, and knowing, from the fate of Lewis
Tappan's house, what that of his own would be, he had, during the day,
quietly removed his furniture, and in the afternoon put his family on
board of a steamboat, and left the city.

The mob found the door barricaded, but they broke it open, and began to
smash the windows and blinds of the lower story. Before, however, they
had begun to sack the house, police-officers and watchmen, with two
detachments of horse, arrived and dislodged them. They did not, however,
disperse. A more dangerous and determined spirit was getting possession
of them than they had before evinced. Crowding back on each other, they
packed the street east, within four blocks of Broadway. Seizing some
carts, they made a hasty barricade of them across the streets, while a
neighboring fence supplied them with clubs. A large number were armed
with paving-stones, which they would smite loudly together, saying in
deep undertones, "_all together_." As they thus stood savagely at bay, a
collision seemed inevitable, and had they been attacked, would doubtless
have made a desperate fight. But being let alone they slowly dispersed.
A portion, however, though it was now late at night, could not retire
without venting a little more spite, and returning to the church, broke
in some more windows.

Dr. Cox came back to his house next morning, to see if it was safe. As
he left the mutilated building, a crowd of boys, who were looking at the
ruins, immediately gave chase to him with yells and derisive laughter,
and pressed him so closely, at the same time hurling dirty missiles
at him, that he was compelled to take shelter in the house of a
parishioner.

The crowd around the house continued to increase all the morning, but a
hundred policemen arriving at one o'clock, no disturbance of the peace
was attempted. In the afternoon, Mayor Lawrence issued a proclamation,
denouncing the rioters, and calling on all good citizens to aid in
maintaining the peace, and assuring them that he had taken ample
measures to repress all attempts at violence. At the Arsenal, City Hall,
and Bazaar, large bodies of troops were assembled, ready to march at a
moment's notice; and it was evident that the coming night was to witness
a trial of strength between the rioters and the city authorities.

As soon as it was fairly dark, large crowds gathered in front of Arthur
Tappan's store, and began to stone the building. Some fifteen or twenty
watchmen were stationed here, and endeavored to arrest the ringleaders,
when the mob turned on them, and handled them so roughly that they
were compelled to take refuge in flight. Alderman Lalagh was severely
wounded; but he refused to leave, and standing fiercely at bay,
denounced and threatened the maddened wretches, who in turn swore they
would take his life. He told them to force open the doors if they dare;
that the inside was full of armed men, who were ready to blow their
brains out the moment the door gave way. This frightened them, and they
had to content themselves with stoning the windows, and cursing the
Abolitionist who owned the building. In the meantime, Justice Lowndes
came up with a strong police force, when they fled.

While this was going on here, similar scenes were passing in other parts
of the city. At dark, some three or four hundred gathered around
Dr. Cox's church, in Laight Street, discussing the conduct of the
Abolitionists, but making no outward demonstrations calling for the
interference of the police, until nine o'clock, when a reinforcement
came yelling down Varick Street, armed with stones and brick-bats. These
charged, without halting, so furiously on the police-officers, and the
few watchmen stationed there, that, bruised and bleeding, they were
compelled to flee for their lives. The next moment stones rattled like
hail against the church, and, in a few minutes, the remaining windows
were smashed in. The police rallied when they reached Beach Street,
and hurried off a messenger to the City Hall for the military. In the
meantime, loud shouts were heard in the direction of Spring Street, and
with answering shouts the mob left the church, and rushed yelling like
Indians to the spot. A vast crowd was in front of a church there, under
the care of Rev. Mr. Ludlow, another Abolitionist, and had already
commenced the work of destruction. They had torn down the fence
surrounding it, and were demolishing the windows. Through them they made
an entrance, and tore down the pulpit, ripped up the seats, and made
a wreck of everything destructible without the aid of fire. The
session-room shared the same fate, and the splintered wreck of both was
carried in their arms, and on their shoulders, out of doors, and piled
into barricades in the street on both sides of the building, to stop the
anticipated charge of cavalry. Carts, hauled furiously along by the mob,
were drawn up behind this, and chained together, making a formidable
obstruction. They then rung the bell furiously, in order to bring out
the firemen. The watch-house bell in Prince Street gave a few answering
strokes, but information being received of what was going on, it ceased,
and the firemen did not come out. It was now near eleven o'clock, when,
all at once, an unearthly yell arose from the immense throng. Word had
passed through it that the military was approaching. Pandemonium seemed
suddenly to have broken loose, and shouts, and yells, and oaths arose
from five thousand throats, as the men sprung behind their barricades.
It was a moonless night, but the stars were shining brightly, and, in
their light, the sheen of nearly a thousand bayonets made the street
look like a lane of steel. The Twenty-seventh Regiment of National
Guards, led by Colonel Stevens, had been sent from the City Hall, and
their regular heavy tramp sounded ominously, as they came steadily on.
The church-bell was set ringing furiously by the mob and there was every
appearance of a determined resistance. As Colonel Stevens approached the
first barricade, he halted his regiment, and ordered his pioneer guard
to advance. They promptly obeyed, armed with their axes. A shower
of stones met them, while clubs were waved frantically in the air,
accompanied with oaths and threats. They, however, moved firmly up to
the barricade, and the shining steel of their axes, as they swung them
in the air, was as terrific as the gleam of the bayonets, and the crowd
retired precipitately behind the second barricade. The first was now
speedily torn down, and the head of the column advanced. The second was
a more formidable affair, in fact, a regular bastion, behind which were
packed in one dense mass an immense body of desperate men, reaching down
the street, till lost in the darkness. It seemed now that nothing but
deadly volleys would answer. One of the city officers advised Colonel
Stevens to retreat, but, instead of obeying, he ordered the pioneer
guard to advance, and sustained it by a detachment of troops. Amid the
raining missiles they moved forward, when the crowd fell back, some
fleeing up the side streets. The guard then mounted the barricade, and
in a short time it was scattered in every direction; and when the order
"Forward" was given, the column marched straight on the mob. At this
moment, Justice Lowndes, at the head of a band of watchmen, arrived on
the ground, when the two forces moved forward together, clearing the
street of the rioters. While the fight was going on, some of the gang
remained inside the church, and kept the bell ringing violently, until
Colonel Stevens ordered one of his officers to cut the rope.

A portion of the mob now hurried to Thompson Street, where Mr. Ludlow
resided. The family had retired for the night, but their repose was
suddenly broken by loud yells and the sound of stones dashing in their
windows. Jumping up in wild alarm, they saw the doors broken in, through
which streamed the shouting, yelling crowd.

Either from fear of the military, which they knew would soon be upon
them, or some other cause, they decamped almost as suddenly as they
came, and relieved the terror-stricken household of their presence.

About this time, another immense mob had collected at Five Points. The
rioters here seemed to be well organized, and to act in concert. Runners
were kept passing between the different bodies, keeping each informed
of the actions of the other, and giving notice of the approach of the
police.

The destruction at Five Points was on a more extensive scale, and the
gatherings in this, then dangerous section of the city--the home of
desperadoes and depraved beings of every kind--were of such a character,
that for a time the city authorities seemed to be over-awed. The rioters
had it all their own way for several hours, and the midnight heavens
became lurid with burning dwellings. It somehow got round that they had
resolved to attack every house not illuminated with candles, and these
dirty streets soon became brilliant with the lighted windows. Five
houses of ill-fame were gutted, and almost entirely demolished. St.
Philip's Church, in Centre Street, occupied by a  congregation,
was broken into, and for two hours the mob continued the work of
destruction unmolested. They left it a complete ruin. A house adjoining,
and three houses opposite, shared the same fate. The mob was everywhere;
and although the police made some arrests and had some fights, they
were too weak to effect much. About one o'clock a shout arose, "away to
Anthony Street!" and thither the yelling wretches repaired.

The Mayor was at the City Hall all night, doing what he could; but the
mob had arranged their plans to act in concert, appearing in separate
bodies in different sections of the city at the same time, so that he
hardly knew, with the force at his disposal, where to strike. The next
morning he issued another proclamation, calling on the citizens to
report to him and be organized into companies to aid the police. He
called also on all the volunteer military companies of the city to rally
to the support of the laws. They did so, and that (Saturday) night they,
with most of the fire companies, who had offered their services, were
stationed in strong bodies all over the city; and the rioters saw that
their rule was ended. Beside, many of the most notorious ringleaders
had been arrested and put in prison. A short fight occurred in Catharine
Street between the police and mob, in which both had some of their men
badly hurt; and an attempt was made to get up a riot in Reade Street,
but it was promptly put down. The city was rife with rumors of bloody
things which the mob had threatened to do; but, with the exception of
the military in the streets, the city on Sunday presented its usual
appearance. The lawless spirit was crushed out, and a hundred and fifty
of the desperadoes who had been instrumental in rousing it were locked
up to await their trial.

In June of the summer of 1835 occurred the Five Points riot, which grew
out of the feeling between Americans and foreigners. It threatened for a
time to be a very serious matter, but was finally quelled by the police
without the aid of the military. Dr. W. M. Caffrey was accidentally
killed by one of the mob, and Justice Lowndes was dangerously wounded.

In connection with the series of riots of 1834 and 1835, might be
mentioned the Stonecutters' riot, though it was promptly suppressed.

STONECUTTERS' RIOT.

The contractors for the building of the New York University found
that they could purchase dressed stone at Sing Sing, the work of the
prisoners there, much cheaper than in New York, and so concluded to use
it. This, the stonecutters of the city said, was taking the bread out of
their mouths, and if allowed to go on would destroy their business. They
held excited meetings on the subject, and finally got up a procession
and paraded the streets with placards asserting their rights and
denouncing the contractors. They even attacked the houses of some of
the citizens, and assumed such a threatening attitude, that the
Twenty-seventh Regiment, Colonel Stevens, was called out. Their steady,
determined march on the rioters dispersed them and restored quiet.
Apprehensions were felt, however, that they would reassemble in the
night and vent their rage on the University building, and so a part
of the regiment encamped in Washington Square in full view of it. They
remained here four days and nights, until the excitement subsided, and
the work could go on unmolested.



CHAPTER VII.


FLOUR RIOT OF 1837.

Starvation will always create a Riot.--Foreign Population easily aroused
against the Rich.--Severe Winter of 1836.--Scarcity of Flour.--Meeting
of Citizens called without Result.--Meeting called in the
Park.--Speeches.--Sacking of Hart & Co.'s Flour Store, in Washington
Street.--Strange Spectacle.--National Guards called out.--Disperse the
Mob.--Attack on Herrick's Flour Store.--Folly of the Riot.

Hunger will drive any people mad, and once let there be real suffering
for want of food among the lower classes, while grain is piled up in
the storehouses of the rich, and riots will surely follow. In the French
Revolution of 1789, there was a great scarcity of provisions, which
caused frightful outbreaks. It will never do to treat with scorn the cry
of millions for bread. When, amid the general suffering in Paris, one
said to Foulon, the minister of state, the people are starving for
bread, he replied, "Let them eat hay." The next day he was hung to a
lamp-post. The tumultuous multitude marching on Versailles, shouting
wildly for "bread," was a fearful spectacle. One can hardly blame
starving men from seizing food by violence, if it can be got in no other
way; and if ever a mob could be justifiable, it would be when they see
their families suffering and perishing around them, in the very sight of
well-stored granaries.

In the old despotisms of Europe, the poor and oppressed attribute all
their want and suffering to the rich and powerful, so that they are not
held back from redressing their wrongs by ignorance of their source, but
fear of the strong hand of their rulers.

These men, embittered not only by their own sufferings, but by the
traditions of the past, when they come to this country are easily roused
to commit acts of violence by anything that reminds them of their old
oppressions. They have tasted the wormwood and the gall, and refuse
to have it pressed to their lips in a country where liberty is the
birthright of all. This is what has made, and still makes, the foreign
population among us so dangerous. The vast proportion of them are from
this very class. Ignorant of everything but their wrongs, they rise in
angry rebellion at any attempt, or fancied attempt, to renew them here.
Unfortunately there are Americans among us, who, knowing this, work upon
this sensitive, suspicious feeling, to accomplish their own ends. The
politician does it to secure votes; but the worst class is composed of
those who edit papers that circulate only among the scum of society, and
embittered by the sight of luxuries beyond their reach, are always ready
to denounce the rich and excite the lower classes against what they call
the oppression of the aristocracy.

It is doubtful whether the frightful riot of 1863 would ever have taken
place, but for this tone assumed by many of the city papers. So of this
flour riot, it probably would never have happened, but for demagogues,
who lashed the ignorant foreign population into fury against their
rich oppressors. Starvation, which as we said may be a justification
of violence, did not exist--it was only the high price of provisions,
growing out of scarcity, that caused it, but which scarcity, they were
told, was created solely by the cupidity of the rich.

The year in which the great fire occurred, was a disastrous one to the
crops of the country. The mighty West, that great granary of the nation,
was not then open as now, and the main supply of grain came from east of
the Alleghanies. Hence the cause which would create a short crop in one
section, would be apt to prevail more or less over all the grain region.
We imported wheat at this time very largely; not only from England, but
from the Black Sea.

In September, flour was about seven dollars a barrel, but this, as the
winter came on, went up to twelve dollars--a great rise at that time.

From Virginia, a great wheat State, came disastrous tidings; not only
was the crop short and the price of flour high, but it was said that the
latter would probably go up to fifteen or twenty dollars a barrel. In
Troy, a great depot for State flour, it was stated that there were
only four thousand barrels against thirty thousand at the same time the
previous year. As February came on, a report circulated in the city that
there were only three or four weeks' supply on hand. This was repeated
in the penny papers, with the information added, that in certain stores
were hoarded vast amounts of grain and flour, kept out of the market
to compel a still greater advance in the price. This was very probably
true, as it is a rule with merchants, when they have a large stock of
anything on hand, of which there threatens to be a scarcity, to hold on
in order to make the scarcity greater--thus forcing higher prices. This
will always prove a dangerous experiment in this country in the article
of flour. It is the prime necessary of life, and the right to make it
scarce for the sake of gain, and at the expense of human suffering, will
always be questioned by the poorer classes.

Although the stock of grain on hand at this time was small, there was
no danger of starvation, nor was it to the instinct of self-preservation
that demagogues appealed. They talked of the rich oppressing the poor
by their extortions--of monopolists, caring only to increase their gains
without regard to the distress they occasioned.

There was, doubtless, much suffering among the poorer classes, not only
on account of the high price of flour, but also of all the necessary
articles of living. Meat advanced materially, while from some strange
fatality, coal went up to ten dollars a ton. There seemed no reason for
this, as the amount sent to market was said to be largely in excess
of the previous year. In Canada, coal was so scarce, that the line of
steamers between Montreal and Quebec was suspended before winter set in.

This state of things excited the attention of the people generally,
and in the fore-part of this month, a public meeting was called at the
Tabernacle to consider what could be done. It amounted to nothing.
Some speeches were made, resolutions offered, but nothing practical was
proposed. The temperance people attempted to make a little capital out
of it, by asserting that the high price of grain was owing to the amount
used by the distilleries--rye being sold as high as one dollar and
seventy cents per bushel.

But a different class of people were now discussing the subject, and
in a different spirit. Their attention was directed to _men_, not
_theories_--the individual oppressors, not the general causes.

Chief among those against whom the popular feeling was now directed, was
Hart & Co., large commission merchants in Washington Street, between Dey
and Cortlandt Streets. Their store was packed with flour and wheat, and
every day men passed it with sinister looks. Sometimes a little knot
of men would stop opposite it, and talk of the loads of grain stored up
there, while their own families were pinched for bread. They would
gaze savagely on its heavy iron doors, that seemed to defy the weak and
helpless, and then walk on, muttering threats and curses. These signs
of a gathering storm were, however, unheeded by the proprietors. Others,
better informed, were not so tranquil; and by anonymous letters tried
to arouse Mr. Hart to take precautionary measures. An anonymous letter
addressed to Mr. W. Lenox was picked up in the Park, in which the writer
stated that a conspiracy was formed for breaking open and plundering Mr.
Hart's store, and gave the following plan of action. On some dark night,
two alarms of fire were to be given, one near the Battery, and the other
up town, in order to draw off the watchmen and police, when a large
crowd already assembled in the neighborhood would make a sudden rush
for the building, and sack it before help could arrive. This letter was
handed to the High Constable Hays, who showed it to Hart & Co., but they
seemed to regard it as an attempt to frighten them. This was followed by
anonymous letters from other parties, that reached the Mayor, insisting
on it that danger was hanging over this house. He sent them to Hart &
Co., but they, thinking it was only a trick to put down the price of
flour, paid no attention to them. They locked their three massive iron
doors at night as usual, and went to their homes without fear, and the
underground swell kept on increasing in volume.

The first plan of operation, if it ever existed, was either abandoned by
the mob or deferred till after other measures were tried.

At length, on the afternoon of the 10th of February, the following
placard was posted up all over the city:

BREAD, MEAT, RENT, FUEL!

_The voice of the people shall be heard and will prevail._

The people will meet in the PARK, _rain or shine_, at four o'clock on

MONDAY AFTERNOON,

to inquire into the cause of the present unexampled distress, and to
devise a suitable remedy. All friends of humanity, determined to resist
monopolists and extortioners, are invited to attend.

Moses Jacques. Daniel Graham. Paulus Hedle. John Windt. Daniel A.
Robertson. Alexander Ming, Jr. Warden Hayward. Elijah F. Crane.

NEW YORK, _Feb_. 10_th_, 1837.

The idle crowd had all day Sunday to talk over this call. Everywhere
knots of men were seen gathered before these placards--some spelling
out slowly, and with great difficulty, the words for themselves--others
reading the call to those unable to read it. The groggeries were filled
with excited men, talking over the meeting, and interspersing their
oaths with copious draughts of liquor, and threatening openly to teach
these rich oppressors a lesson they would not soon forget.

There was something ominous in the hour selected for the meeting; four
o'clock in February meant night, before it would get under full headway.
It was evident that the leaders did not mean the meeting to be one of
mere speech-making. They knew that under cover of darkness, men could be
incited to do what in broad daylight they would be afraid to undertake.

Before the time appointed, a crowd began to assemble, the character of
which boded no good. Dirty, ragged, and rough-looking, as they flowed
from different quarters together into the inclosure, those who composed
it were evidently a mob already made to hand.

At length, four or five thousand shivering wretches were gathered in
front of the City Hall. Moses Jacques, a man who would make a good
French Communist to-day, was chosen chairman. But this motley multitude
had no idea or respect for order, or regular proceedings, and they broke
up into different groups, each pushing forward its favorite orator.

One of the strangest freaks of this meeting, was an address to a
collection of Democrats by Alexander Ming, Jr. He forgot all about the
object of the meeting, and being a strong Bentonian, launched out into
the currency question, attributing all the evils of the Republic, past,
present, and to come, to the issue of bank-notes; and advising his
hearers to refuse to take the trash altogether, and receive nothing but
specie. This was the more comical, as not one out of ten of the poor
wretches he addressed had the chance to refuse either. Half starving,
they would have been glad to receive anything in the shape of money that
would help them through the hard winter. Yet when Mr. Ming offered a
resolution, proposing a memorial to the Legislature, requiring a law to
be passed, forbidding any bank to issue a note under the denomination
of a hundred dollars, the deluded people, who had been listening
with gaping mouths, rent the air with acclamations. It was a curious
exhibition of the wisdom of the sovereign people--this verdict of a
ragged mob on the currency question. They were so delighted with this
lucid exposition of the cause of the scarcity of flour, that they seized
the orator bodily, and elevating him on their shoulders, bore him across
the street to Tammany Hall, where something beside specie was received
from behind the bar to reward their devotion.

There was, however, some excuse for him. He had been several times
candidate for city register, and hence was more anxious to secure votes
than flour--be a popular demagogue rather than a public benefactor.

But there were other speakers who kept more directly to the point. They
launched at once into a bitter tirade against landlords for their high
rents, and against monopolists for holding on to flour at the expense
of the poor and suffering. Knowing the character of the audience before
them, and their bitter hatred of the rich that had grown with their
growth, and strengthened with their strength in the old country, it was
not difficult to lash them into a tempest of passion. They depicted
the aristocrats around them rolling in wealth, wrung from their
necessities--laughing at their sufferings while rioting in luxury--nay,
hoarding up the very bread without which they must starve, in order to
realize a few dollars more on a barrel of flour. Loud oaths and deep
muttered curses followed these appeals, and the excited multitude became
agitated with passion. One of the speakers closed his bitter harangue
with "Fellow-citizens, Mr. Eli Hart has now 53,000 barrels of flour in
his store; let us go and offer him eight dollars a barrel for it, and
if he will not take it--" It was not difficult to know how he meant to
close the sentence; but just then, a friend shrewder than he, seeing
the legal consequences to themselves of an open proposition to resort to
violence, touched him on the shoulder, when in a lower tone of voice
he concluded: "_we shall depart in peace_." In the excitement of the
moment, he had evidently forgotten the guarded language he intended to
use, and was about to utter that which would have consigned him to a
prisoner's cell, but checked himself in time. He was willing others
should suffer the consequence of violating the law, to which his appeals
urged them; but his love for the poor did not prompt him to share their
fate.

It was bitterly cold, and it was a wonder that the crowd had listened
patiently so long. The proposition to go to Hart's store with a demand
for flour, was instantly seized, and those around the speaker started
off with a shout, and streaming down Broadway, poured in one dark living
stream along Cortlandt Street into Washington Street. The clerks in
the store heard the turmoil, and suspecting the object of the rioters,
rushed to the doors and windows, and began to close and bolt them.
There were three large iron doors opening on the sidewalk, and they
had succeeded in bolting and barring all but one, when the mob arrived.
Forcing their way through this middle door, the latter seized the
barrels, and began to roll them out into the street. Mr. Hart, who,
either from curiosity to hear what the meeting would propose to do, or
from his suspicions being aroused from what he had previously heard,
was on the spot, and as soon as he saw the crowd stream out of the
Park, down Broadway, he hurried to the police, and obtaining a posse of
officers, made all haste for his store. But as they were going down Dey
Street, the mob, which blocked the farther end, rushed on them with such
fury, that before they had time to defend themselves, their clubs, or
staves as they were then called, were wrenched from their hands and
broken into fragments. The crowd was not yet very great, and the
disarmed officers forced their way into Washington Street and into
the store. Their presence frightened the few inside, and they hastily
decamped. The Mayor, who was in his room at the City Hall, had been
speedily notified of the riot, and hurried to the spot. The crowd
remaining in the Park had also been informed of what was going on, and
dashing madly down Broadway, and through Cortlandt Street, joined with
loud shouts their companions in front of the store. The Mayor mounted a
flight of steps, and began to harangue the mob, urging them to desist,
and warning them of the consequences of their unlawful action. He had
not proceeded far, however, before brick-bats, and sticks, and pieces of
ice came raining around him in such a dangerous shower, that he had to
give it up, and make his way to a place of safety. The street was now
black with the momentarily increasing throng, and emboldened by their
numbers, they made a rush at the entrance of the store. Driving the
police-officers before them, they wrenched by main force one of the
heavy iron doors from its hinges. A half a score of men at once seized
it, and using it as a battering-ram, hurled it with such force against
the others, that after a few thundering blows, they one after another
gave way, and the crowd poured in. The clerks fled, and the rioters went
to work without hindrance. Mounting to the upper lofts, they first broke
in all the doors and windows, and then began to roll and heave out the
flour. The barrels on the ground-floor were rolled, swift as one could
follow another, into the street, when they were at once seized by those
waiting without, and their heads knocked in, and their contents strewn
over the pavement. On the upper lofts, they were rolled to the broken
windows, and lifted on to the sill, and tumbled below. Warned by their
descent, the crowd backed to the farther side of the street. Part would
be staved in by their fall; those that were not, were seized as they
rolled off the sidewalk, and the heads knocked out. One fellow, as he
stood by the window-sill and pitched the barrels below, shouted as
each one went with a crash to the flagging: "_Here goes flour at eight
dollars a barrel!_"

The scene which now presented itself was a most strange, extraordinary
one. The night was clear and cold, and the wintry moon was sailing
tranquilly through the blue and starlit heavens, flooding here and there
the sea of upturned faces with its mellow light, or casting the deep
shadow of intervening houses over the black mass, while the street
looked as if a sudden snow-storm had carpeted it with white. The men in
the windows and those below were white with flour that had sifted over
their garments; while, to give a still wilder aspect to the scene,
women, some bareheaded, some in rags, were roaming around like
camp-followers after plunder. Here a group had seized empty boxes; there
others pressed forward with baskets on their arms; and others still,
empty-handed, pushed along, with their aprons gathered up like a sack.
These all knelt amid the flour, and scooped it up with an eagerness
that contrasted strangely with the equal eagerness of those who were
scattering it like sand over the street. The heavy thud of the barrels
as they struck almost momentarily on the sidewalk, could be distinctly
heard above the shouts of the men. Some of the mob found their way into
Mr. Hart's counting-room, and tore up his papers and scattered them over
the floor. It was evident they were bent on utter destruction; but when
about five hundred barrels of flour had been destroyed, together with
a thousand bushels of wheat in sacks, a heavy force of police came
marching along the street. These were soon after followed by detachments
of the National Guards from Colonel Smith's and Hele's regiments. The
flashing of the moonbeams on the burnished barrels and bayonets of their
muskets, struck terror into the hearts of the rioters. The cry of "The
soldiers are coming!" flew from lip to lip, causing a sudden
cessation of the work of destruction, and each one thought only of
self-preservation. Many, however, were arrested, and sent off to
Bridewell under the charge of Officer Bowyer, with a squad of police.
The latter were assailed, however, on the way, by a portion of the mob
that pursued them, and a fierce fight followed. In the struggle, Bowyer
and his assistants had their clothes torn from their backs, and some of
the prisoners were rescued.

In the meantime, the military paraded the street, clearing it of the
mob, and preventing their return. In front of the store, and far beyond
it, the flour lay half-knee deep--a sad spectacle, in view of the daily
increasing scarcity of grain.

Just before the military and police reached the ground, some one in the
crowd shouted "Meeches." This was another flour store at Coenties Slip,
on the other side of the city, nearly opposite. A portion of the mob
on the outside, that could not get to the store, and aid in the work of
destruction, at once hurried away to this new field of operations. On
the way over, they passed Herrick & Co.'s flour store, and stopped to
demolish it. They were loaded down with brick-bats, which they hurled
at the windows, smashing them in. The doors followed, and the crowd,
rushing through, began to roll out the barrels of flour. But when some
twenty or thirty were tumbled into the street, and about half of them
staved in, they, for some cause or other, stopped. Some said that they
ceased because the owner promised, if they did, he would give it all
away to the poor the next day. At all events, they would soon have been
compelled to abandon the work of destruction, for the police hastened to
the spot, accompanied by a large body of citizens, who had volunteered
their help. Some were arrested, but most of the ringleaders escaped.

How many of those who attended the meeting in the Park anticipated a mob
and its action, it is impossible to say; but that a great number of them
did, there can be no doubt.

By nine o'clock the riot was over, and those who had engaged in it were
either arrested or dispersed.

The next day, Mr. Hart issued a card, denying that the exorbitant price
of flour was owing to his having purchased a large quantity for the sake
of monopolizing it, but to its scarcity alone.

It was certainly a very original way to bring down the price, by
attempting to destroy all there was in the city. Complaining of
suffering from the want of provisions, they attempted to relieve
themselves by putting its possession out of their power altogether. With
little to eat, they attempted to make it impossible to eat at all. A
better illustration of the insensate character of a mob could not be
given.



CHAPTER VIII.


ASTOR-PLACE RIOTS, 1849.

Rivalry between Forrest and Macready.--Macready's Arrival in this
Country.--The Announcement of his Appearance at the Astor-place Opera
House, and Forrest at the Broadway Theatre the same Night posted Side
by Side.--Bowery Boys crowd the Opera House.--Anxiety of
the Managers.--Consultations and Dramatic Scenes behind the
Curtain.--Stamping of the People.--Scene on raising the Curtain.--Stormy
Reception of Macready.--Howled down.--Mrs. Pope driven from the Stage by
the Outrageous Language of the Mob.--Macready not allowed to go
on.--His foolish Anger.--Flees for his Life.--His Appearance the
Second Night.--Preparations to put down the Mob.--Exciting Scene in the
Theatre.--Terrific Scenes without.--Military arrive.--Attacked by the
Mob.--Patience of the Troops.--Effort to avoid Firing.--The Order
to Fire.--Terrific Scene.--Strange Conduct of Forrest.--Unpublished
Anecdote of General Scott.

Probably there never was a great and bloody riot, moving a mighty city
to its profoundest depths, that originated in so absurd, insignificant
a cause as the Astor-place riot. A personal quarrel between two men
growing out of professional jealousy, neither of whom had any hold on
the affections of the people, were able to create a tumult, that ended
only by strewing the street with the dead and wounded.

Mr. Forrest, it is true, had a certain professional popularity, but
nothing to awaken a personal enthusiasm for him. Viewing the matter
in this light, some have thought, there was a mysterious underground
influence at work, that has never yet been discovered. But one needs not
to go far to find the causes that produced it.

In the first place, ever since our revolt from England, especially since
the second war with her, in which the contest for the supremacy of the
seas was decided, the spirit of rivalry between the two countries has
been intense and often bitter. No matter what the contest was, whether
between two boats, or two bullies in the ring, it at once assumed the
magnitude of a national one, and no matter how conducted, the winner was
always charged with unfairness. It so happened that Forrest and Macready
were the two popular tragic actors on either side of the Atlantic. If
they had stayed at home, nothing would have been thought of it, but
each invaded the domain of the other, and laid claim to his laurels.
Of course criticism followed, national prejudices were aroused, and
national peculiarities ridiculed. The press took sides, and fanned the
excitement. Among other things, it was currently reported that when
Forrest was in London, Macready went to see him act, and publicly hissed
him. This was generally believed, and of course it alone would insure
the latter an unwelcome reception from Forrest's admirers here, should
he ever appear on our stage.

Apparently unconscious of this hostility toward him, Macready came over
in the spring of 1849, and at once made an engagement at the Astor-place
Opera House, corner of Eighth Street and Lafayette Place. He was to
appear as Macbeth; and the play was announced sometime beforehand.
Forrest at the same time had an engagement at the Broadway Theatre. On
the 7th of May, the following two significant placards appeared side by
side in all the streets.

ASTOR PLACE OPERA HOUSE.

_This evening will be performed_

MACBETH.

MACBETH ... Macready. LADY MACBETH ... Mrs. Pope.

BROADWAY THEATRE.

_This evening will be performed_

MACBETH.

MACBETH ... Mr. Forrest. LADY MACBETH ... Mrs. Wallack.

This public exhibition of rivalry stimulated the hostility of those
opposed to Macready, and there were some fears of disturbance;
but nothing serious was anticipated--in fact, it was rather a good
advertisement, and promised full houses. Niblo, one of the managers
of the Opera House, unwisely gave out tickets for more people than the
building would hold, and when, before evening, he found they were taken,
he was alarmed. It looked as if they had been so eagerly bought up for
other purposes than merely to hear Macready. He therefore went to the
Chief of Police, and requested the presence of a force in case any
disturbance should be attempted. It was promised, but as it turned out,
most of it came too late to be of any service.

A tremendous crowd assembled in front of the building long before dark,
and the moment the doors were open, a rush was made, and the human tide
poured in, and flowing swiftly over the house, soon filled every part of
it, except the boxes. These filled up more slowly; but long before the
curtain rose, the house was packed to repletion, while the amphitheatre
and parquette were crowded with hard-looking men--a dense mass of bone
and muscle. The fashionable portion of the audience in the boxes began
to feel anxious, for not only were all the seats occupied, but all
the aisles and every foot of standing room. Some were in their
shirt-sleeves, others were ragged and dirty, while all had their hats
on. Such an audience had never before been seen in the Opera House, and
it boded no good. Still, this heterogeneous mass was orderly, but it was
noticed that at short intervals telegraphic signals were made by
those nearest the stage to those in the wings of the amphitheatre, and
answered, indicating a thoroughly arranged plan. The time before the
play was to commence passed slowly, but the hard-looking crowd seemed
very patient. Occasionally, to vary the monotony, some joke would be
passed around, and once a man who was above called out to those below,
imitating the English pronunciation: "I say, Jim, come 'hup 'ere! 'ere's
some of Macready's hangels--'haint they sweet 'uns?" If a lorgnette was
levelled from one of the boxes, those noticing it below would put their
thumbs to their noses and gyrate with their fingers in return. On the
whole, however, the strange-looking crowd were orderly, although the
quiet had an ominous look.

But at half-past seven, the hour for the play to commence, that regular
stamping, common to most theatres, began. But in this case, it did not
continue for a little while and then die away, but beginning in a low
rumble, every moment gathered strength and grew louder, till it rolled
like thunder through the building, shaking the very walls, and making
the glasses in the great central chandelier jingle, as though knocked
together by invisible hands. As the mighty sound echoed through the
recesses and dressing-rooms behind the scenes, Niblo became agitated,
and stepping forward on the stage, peered behind the edge of the
curtain, and surveyed the strange scene. Turning to Mr. Bowyer, of
the chief's bureau, who was by his side, he said: "This looks rather
dubious, Mr. Bowyer." "Yes," he replied, "the 'Boy's' are here
certainly. What made you sell so many tickets? People are making a
tremendous rush at the doors yet, and the house is full; over full
already." Niblo then turned to his partner, and said: "What do you
think, Mr. Hackett. Is there going to be a disturbance?" "I don't know,"
he replied; "you must ask Mr. Bowyer."

The latter, putting his eye to the crack, took a careful survey of
the audience, and remarked: "There is mischief in the parquette and
amphitheatre, but probably no actual violence will be attempted;
the 'boys' will make a noise, and endeavor to prevent the play from
proceeding, but possibly they will do nothing further; they seem to
be patient and good-natured, but Mr. Macready may expect a rough
reception."

Macready, who had been dressing, now approached and also took a peep
from behind the curtain. His gaze was long and searching. The scrutiny
did not satisfy him, and he turned away and began to pace backward and
forward in one of the wings, moody and thoughtful. The stamping had
ceased while the orchestra was playing, but it now commenced again,
apparently louder than ever. Lady Macbeth in full dress now came on the
stage, pale and agitated. She also took a peep from behind the curtain.
The spectacle frightened her, and turning to Mr. Hackett, she whispered,
rather than exclaimed, "My God! Mr. Hackett, what is the matter? Are we
to be murdered to-night?" "My dear Madam," he replied, "keep calm, there
is no cause for alarm; everything will go on smoothly;" but his pale
face and anxious look belied his words. It seemed now as if the house
would come down under the continuous, furious stamping. Hackett turned
to Bowyer, and asked if the chief had come. The latter replied he did
not know; and another silence followed in the group behind the curtain,
while they stood and listened to the thundering tramp, tramp, that rose
like muffled thunder. At length Hackett asked: "How many policemen are
there in the house?" "I don't know," replied Bowyer. "But the chief
should have known," retorted the former. "What do you want the police
to do, Mr. Niblo?" quietly asked Bowyer. The latter hesitated a moment,
when the attaches of the theatre came crowding forward in alarm, and
asking by their scared looks what it all meant.

Macready and Mrs. Pope, in full costume, were at this time standing
apart, talking together, evidently discussing the best course to be
pursued. The uproar seemed to grow louder, and prudence dictated a
suspension of the play; but Macready, after a moment's hesitation,
determined to risk it, and suddenly gave the signal to raise the
curtain. The bell tinkled, and the curtain slowly rose, revealing the
gorgeous scene and the actors standing in a blaze of light. Instantly
the tumult ceased, and a deep sudden hush succeeded. Those roughs were
evidently taken aback by the dazzling splendor that burst upon them. It
was a new revelation to them, and for the moment they seemed to forget
the object of their coming, and to be wholly absorbed in the vision
before them.

The first scene passed off quietly, and the fears of a disturbance were
allayed. In the second, taking Duncan for Macbeth, the crowd began to
hiss, but soon finding their mistake ceased. It was evident that some
one better posted than the mass had control of this wild element, so
eager to be let loose. At length Macbeth came on, and was received with
deafening cheers by those in the boxes. As these died away, a hiss
ran through the amphitheatre and parquette, followed by cat-calls,
cock-crowing, and sounds of every imaginable description. Macready had
hardly uttered a single sentence, before his voice was totally drowned
in the uproar. Forced to stop; he quietly folded his arms and faced the
storm, expecting it would soon blow over. Finding himself mistaken--that
if anything it grew louder and fiercer, his disdain turned into foolish
anger, and advancing to the footlights, and throwing all the contempt
and scorn into his face that he was master of, he deliberately walked
the entire breadth of the stage, gazing haughtily as he did so, into the
faces of the roughs nearest him, who were bawling their throats hoarse.
This did not mend matters any, as he easily could have foreseen, had he
known this type of American character better. He then attempted to go on
and outbellow, if possible, the audience. But it was like shouting amid
the roar of breakers. Nobody heard a word he said, still he stuck to it
till he got through that portion of the act. It was now Lady Macbeth's
turn, and the appearance of a woman, it was thought, would command
that respect which in America is almost always accorded to one. But her
reception was worse than that of Macready, for not content with shouts
and yells they heaped disgusting epithets on her, and were so vulgar in
their ribaldry that she flew in affright from the stage, "blushing,"
it was said, "even through the rouge on her face." Macready, however,
showing, if nothing else, good English pluck, determined to go on. But
he had scarcely finished the first sentence, when some potatoes struck
the stage at his feet; then rotten eggs, breaking and spattering their
sickening contents over his royal robes; while howls that seemed to come
from the lower regions arose on every side. It was Pandemonium broke
loose, and those in the boxes, thoroughly alarmed, jumped to their
feet and stood as if paralyzed, gazing on the strange spectacle below.
Macready's passions were now thoroughly aroused, and he stubbornly stood
his ground. Suddenly a chair hurled from above, and evidently aimed
at his head, struck the stage at his feet and broke into fragments,
followed by the shout, "Go off the stage, you English fool! Hoo! Three
cheers for Ned Forrest!" which were given with a will. Then came another
chair, narrowly missing Macready's head, who, now alarmed for his
personal safety, fled from the stage, and the curtain fell. But the
bedlam that had been let loose did not stop. Hoots, curses, threats
of vengeance, and the confused sounds of a mob given wholly over to
passion, struck terror into all hearts; and Macready, fearing a rush
would be made for him behind the scenes, left the theatre by a private
door, and jumping into a carriage was rapidly driven to his hotel. The
manager, alarmed for the safety of the building, attempted to announce
his departure to the audience, but in vain. They would not listen
to him, and as a last resort he chalked in large letters on a board,
"_Macready has left the theatre_" and hoisted it before the footlights.
This had the desired effect, and the headlong crowd, with shouts and
laughter, began to tumble out. Once in the street, they sent up a loud
hurrah, and dispersed in groups to their various drinking places, to
talk over their victory and damn all Englishmen.

The fact that the mob refrained from damaging the theatre, shows that
they did not desire destruction; they had only done in their rough way
what other men deemed respectable, and even legislators, have often
done, and almost as boisterously, to prevent an obnoxious person from
being heard. They certainly had many respectable precedents for
their course, and Mr. Macready should have done what others have been
compelled to do--given up the attempt and waited for a more propitious
time. That a man has a right to play or speak, is true; but men of all
grades have always asserted the right to show their displeasure of the
acting of the one or the sentiments of the other. Not that there is
any excuse for such conduct as we have described, but it can be
hardly called a serious riot, although by whomsoever committed is
unquestionably riotous in its character.

Of this contemptible, disgraceful interference of his friends in his
quarrel, Forrest had nothing to say--he kept a studied silence. How a
man with any self-respect could have refrained from denouncing it, and
repudiating all sympathy and connection with it by a public card, it
will be difficult for men of ordinary sensibility to imagine.

Macready now determined to throw up his engagement altogether, but
after much consultation and deliberation changed his mind. A letter was
addressed to him by many of the most wealthy and prominent citizens of
the city, in which they expressed their regret at the treatment he had
received, and urged him not to yield to such a lawless spirit. They
promised that he should be protected in his rights, and hoped he would
give the city an opportunity to wipe out the stain that had been put
upon its character. This he unwisely consented to do, and the next
Thursday was fixed for his appearance in the same play. When the
placards announcing it were pasted up, there appeared immediately
alongside of them another, announcing the appearance on the same
evening of Forrest, in the Broadway Theatre, in the character of the
"Gladiator."

In the meantime other posters appeared, and among them the following in
startling capitals:

"WORKINGMEN!

SHALL AMERICANS OR ENGLISH RULE IN THIS CITY?

The crew of the British steamer have threatened all Americans who shall
dare to offer their opinions this night at the

ENGLISH ARISTOCRATIC OPERA HOUSE.

WORKINGMEN! FREEMEN! STAND UP TO YOUR LAWFUL RIGHTS."

It will be observed, that this artful appeal was like a two-edged sword,
cutting both ways. It aimed at the same time to stir up the hatred of
the lower classes against the upper, by the word aristocratic; and the
national hatred of the English, by calling it the _English aristocratic_
Opera House to be guarded by English sailors. Both parties now began
active preparations for the eventful night--the rioters by increasing
and organizing their forces, and setting on foot plans to get possession
of the house; the friends of Macready, to prevent this from being done,
and at the same time secure sufficient aid from the authorities to
suppress all open violence. To keep the rowdies from occupying the
house, tickets were sold or given away only to those known to be
friendly to Macready; while to suppress violence, three hundred
police were promised, to be supported if necessary by two regiments of
soldiers, who were ordered to be under arms at their quarters, ready to
march at a moment's notice.

As the day advertised for the play approached, the excitement deepened,
and serious trouble seemed unavoidable. On the appointed evening, a
strong body of police was quietly placed inside of the house, with
definite instructions how to act. In the meantime, an immense crowd had
assembled in front of the building, and, when at last the doors opened,
a rush was made for them. But the police kept the crowd back, and only
those who had tickets were admitted. When the house was fairly filled,
the doors were closed and fastened. In the meantime the windows had been
barricaded, with the exception of one, which was overlooked. This the
now disappointed rabble assailed with stones, sending them through it,
in among the startled audience. They tried also to break down one of the
doors, but the policemen's clubs stopped them. Then commenced a series
of yells and shouts, mingled with horrid oaths and threats as the
baffled wretches surged around the building. Finding nothing else
to vent their rage on, they attacked the lamps in the neighborhood,
breaking them to pieces, and putting out the lights.

In the meantime, the play inside, with this wild accompaniment without,
commenced. Notwithstanding all the care that had been taken, a large
number of roughs had succeeded in procuring tickets, showing that some
professedly respectable men had been in collusion with them. Although
the rioters inside were in a minority, they were not daunted, and
being determined that the play should not go on, commenced stamping
and yelling so, that Macready's voice from the outset was completely
drowned.

The police in disguise had mingled all day with the rioters, and
ascertained what the mode of action inside the house was to be. At a
certain point in the play, a signal was to be given, on seeing which
the entire body was to make a rush for the stage and seize Macready. The
Chief of Police arranged his plans accordingly, and imparted them to
the force under him. He therefore made no effort to stop the noise, but
waited for the expected signal. At length it was given, and the entire
body of rioters rose with a yell and sprang forward. But at that moment,
the chief gave _his_ signal, which was lifting his hat from his head.
Every eye of those determined policemen had been intently watching it,
and as it now rose, they sprang with a single bound upon the astonished
rowdies, and before they could recover from their surprise, most of them
were outside of the building, while the ringleaders were kept back and
caged inside.

The play now went on, but it was a spiritless affair. Every ear was
turned to hear the muffled roar of the voices outside, which every
moment increased in power as the mighty multitude kept swelling in
numbers.

The afterpiece was omitted, and Macready escaping through a private
door, hastened to his hotel. It seemed for a time that the building
would be torn down; but at length, a regiment of the National Guard,
preceded by a body of cavalry, was seen marching steadily up Broadway.
The crowd parted as it advanced, and as it turned into Eighth Street,
the sharp word of command, "right wheel," rang out distinct and clear
over the uproar. The rioters, instead of being intimidated, rushed to a
pile of paving-stones that unfortunately happened to be near, and arming
themselves with these, began to pelt the horses, which soon became
unmanageable, so that the cavalry force had to retire.

The infantry then advanced, but were received with such a deluge of
stones that they, too, fell back to Broadway. Here they rallied, and at
the order forward, moved steadily on the mob, and forced their way to
the front of the Opera House. While forming line here on the sidewalk,
they were assailed so fiercely with paving-stones, that the soldiers
fell rapidly. The rioters were in close quarters, and the heavy stones,
hurled at such a short distance, were almost as deadly as musket-balls.
Captain Pond soon fell wounded, when the second in command told the
sheriff that if he did not give the order to fire, the troops would be
withdrawn, for they couldn't stand it. Recorder Talmadge, unwilling to
resort to such a desperate measure, attempted to harangue the mob. He
begged them, in God's name, to disperse and go home--if they did not,
the soldiers would certainly fire on them, etc. The only reply was hoots
and yells of defiance, and paving-stones. The Recorder then forced his
way up to General Hall, standing at the right of the battalion, and
said: "You must order your men to fire; it is a terrible alternative,
but there is no other." The General asked for the Mayor, for he was
doubtful of his authority to do so, without his order. "He won't be
here," replied Talmadge. General Sandford then said: "Well, the National
Guards will not stand and be pounded to death with stones; nearly
one-third of the force is already disabled." After a little more hurried
conversation, the sheriff said, "If that be so, you have permission to
fire." The uproar all this time was deafening, and the order, "Ready!"
of General Sandford, could hardly be heard; but the sharp, quick rattle
of steel rose distinctly over the discord. Still terribly repugnant
to shoot down citizens, General Hall and Colonel Duryea made another
attempt to address the crowd, and begged them to cease these attacks.
"Fire and be d--ned!" shouted a burly fellow. "Fire, if you dare--take
the life of a freeborn American for a bloody British actor! D--n it, you
dassent fire!" and he boldly bared his breast to the levelled muskets.
"Fire, will you?" yelled another, as he hurled a paving-stone at General
Sandford, wounding his sword arm. "Hit 'em again!" shouted a third, who
saw the well-directed aim. Still averse to shedding blood, General Hall
told the soldiers to elevate their pieces over the heads of the people,
and fire at the blank wall of Mr. Langton's house opposite, hoping thus
to frighten the mob. But this only awakened derision, and the leaders
shouted, "Come on, boys! they have blank cartridges and leather flints!"
In the meantime, the police, who had mingled with the mob, and were
making arrests, began to force their way out, in order to escape the
fire that now seemed inevitable. The troops moved across the street,
and faced toward the Bowery, obeying the word of command promptly, and
marching with great steadiness, although the pelting they received was
murderous. To retreat would be pusillanimous, to stand there and be
pelted to death worse still; and General Hall finally gave the order to
fire point blank, but to aim low, so that men would be wounded, rather
than killed. The command fell clear and distinct, "Fire!"

A single musket shot on the extreme left was the only response. They
were too near--their muzzles almost touching the hearts of the men, and
it seemed terribly murderous to fire. "Fire!" shouted General Sandford.

Three more musket-shots, only, followed. "Fire!" Duryea then cried
out, in ringing tones. A swift volley ran along the line, shedding a
momentary glare on the wild faces of the mob, the streets, and adjoining
houses, and then came the report. This time the dead in their midst told
the rioters that it was child's play no longer, and they fell back.
But getting a new supply of paving-stones, they rallied, and once more
advanced on the troops. A second volley, more murderous than the first,
sent them crowding back on each other in terror. The troops now wheeled,
and formed line again in front of the Opera House. It had got to be
eleven o'clock, and more troops were ordered up, with two cannon. The
mob, though dismayed, still refused to retire, and hung sullen and
threatening as a thunder-cloud on the skirts of the military, and a
third volley was poured into them. The rioters now separated, and fell
back into the darkness, when the troops were ordered to fire the fourth
time, in different directions--one wing down Eighth Street, and the
other into Lafayette Place. This last volley, judging from the testimony
of reliable witnesses, was altogether needless. The conflict was over.

A lawyer of Wall Street, noted for his philanthropy and kindness,
resided in Fourth Avenue, and being informed by a friend, late in
the evening, that men were lying dead and wounded in Astor Place,
he hastened down to see if he could be of any assistance to the poor
creatures. Reaching Lafayette Place, he saw in the dim light a line of
soldiers drawn up, though he saw no mob, only a few scattered men, who
seemed to be spectators. Suddenly he heard the order to fire, and the
next moment came a flash and report. He could not imagine what they were
firing at; but suddenly he felt his arm numb, and the next moment he
grew faint and dropped on the sidewalk, his arm broken to shivers. The
brother of a well-known banker was shot in Broadway by a random bullet;
and a man, while stepping out of a car in Third Avenue, was shot dead.
Other innocent persons fell victims, as they always must, if they will
hang on the skirts of a mob from curiosity. Men anxious to witness a
fight must take the chances of getting hurt.

Great excitement followed; an indignation meeting was called in the
Park, coroners' juries stultified themselves, and a senseless outcry
was made generally. Twenty-two were killed and thirty wounded. It was a
terrible sacrifice to make for a paltry quarrel between two actors about
whom nobody cared; and in this light alone many viewed it, forgetting
that when the public peace is broken, it matters not how great or
insignificant the cause, it must be preserved; and if the police or
military are called out to do it, and are attacked, they must defend
themselves, and uphold the laws, or be false to their trust. The
authorities have to do with riots, not their causes; put them down, not
deprecate their existence, or argue their justice.

If public indignation had been turned against Forrest, it would have
been more sensible. He knew perfectly well that if his friends persisted
in their determination to attack Macready, the second night, blood would
be spilt. It was _his_ quarrel, and yet he deliberately kept his lips
closed. He neither begged them for their own sake, nor for his, or as
good citizens, to forbear, and let his rival alone; nor after it was
known that many had been killed, did he express a single word of regret;
apparently having no feeling but gratification, that even at such a
fearful sacrifice his hated rival had been driven from the field. But
responsibility is not so easily shaken off, and in real life as well as
in tragedy, conscience will force a man to cry:

"Out! damned blood spot! Out, I say!"

Macready left the country, and the excitement died away; but the painful
memories of this absurd yet deadly riot will remain till the present
generation has passed from the stage.

We cannot close this account more fitly than by relating an anecdote of
General Scott connected with it, that has never been made public. He was
living at the time in Second Avenue, nearly opposite Astor Place. He
was occupying the upper part of the house that evening, and his wife the
lower. When the first volley over the heads of the people was fired, he
hastened down, and sent off a servant to ascertain what it meant.
Before the latter returned, he heard a second volley. Hurrying below, he
despatched a second servant to find out what was going on, and went back
to his room. A third volley smote on his ear, and deeply agitated he
hurried below, and began to pace the room in an excited manner. His
wife, observing how much he was moved, remarked pleasantly: "Why,
General, you are frightened!" This was rather a staggerer to the old
hero, and he turned and exclaimed: "Am I a man to be frightened, madam?
It is _volley_ firing, madam--_volley_ firing. They are shooting down
American citizens!" The old chieftain had heard that firing too often on
the field of battle, to be ignorant of its meaning. He had seen ranks
of living men reel and fall before it; nay, stood amid the curling smoke
when his staff was swept down by his side, calm and unmoved, but here
he was unmanned. Over the ploughed and blood-stained field, he had moved
with nerves as steady as steel, and pulse beating evenly; but now he
paced his safe and quiet room with his strong nature painfully agitated,
and all because American citizens were being shot down by American
citizens. The fact speaks volumes for the nobleness of his nature, and
that unsullied patriotism which sheds tenfold lustre on his well-earned
laurels.

[Illustration: HEADQUARTERS METROPOLITAN FIRE DEPARTMENT.]

[Illustration: HEADQUARTERS METROPOLITAN POLICE, 300 Mulberry Street.]



CHAPTER IX.


POLICE RIOT--DEAD-RABBITS' RIOT--BREAD RIOT.

Creation of the Metropolitan District.--Collision between Mayor
Wood's Police and the Metropolitan Police.--Seventh Regiment called
out.--Dead-Rabbits' Riot.--Severe Fight between the Roach Guards and
Dead Rabbits.--Police driven back.--Barricades erected.--Military called
out.--Killed and Wounded.--Bread Riot.--Financial Distress.

The year 1857 was a remarkable one in the history of New York City, and
indeed of the whole country. The year previous had been characterized
by intense political excitement, for the presidential campaign had
been carried on as a sectional fight or a war between the upholders
and enemies of the institution of slavery as it existed at the South.
Pennsylvania alone by her vote defeated the antislavery party, and
the South, seeing the danger that threatened it, had already begun to
prepare for that tremendous struggle, that afterwards tested to the
utmost the resources and strength of the North; while a financial storm
overwhelmed the entire country in disaster. To these were added local
causes, which affected New York City particularly, and made it a year of
uncommon disturbance.

The Republican party being largely in the ascendant in the State,
determined to revolutionize the municipal government, and place the
Democratic city partially under Republican rule. Many bills were passed
during the session of Legislature, peculiarly obnoxious to the city
authorities, but that which excited the most bitter opposition was
called the Metropolitan Police Act, by which the counties of New York,
Kings, Westchester, and Richmond were made one police district, to
be controlled by a board of commissioners, consisting of five members
appointed by the Governor and Senate, and to hold office for five years.
This board having organized, proceeded to create a police department.
Mayor Wood denied the constitutionality of the act and retained the old
police--so that there were two police departments existing at the same
time in the city. The Mayor resorted to all kinds of legal measures to
defeat the action of the board, and the question was finally referred to
the Court of Appeals for decision.

In the mean time the death of a street commissioner left a vacancy to be
filled. Governor King, acting under the recent law, appointed Daniel D.
Conover to fill it, while the Mayor appointed Charles Devlin. A third
claimant for the place appeared in the deputy, who asserted his right to
act until the decision of the Court of Appeals was rendered. Conover had
no idea of waiting for this, and proceeded to assume the duties of his
office. The Mayor of course resisted, and so Conover got out a warrant
from the Recorder to arrest the former on the charge of inciting a riot,
and another on the charge of personal violence. Armed with these papers,
and backed by fifty of the new policemen, he proceeded to the City Hall.
The Mayor, aware of the movement, had packed the building with his own
police, who refused him admittance. The new police attempted to force an
entrance, when a fight followed, in which twelve policemen were severely
injured. While things were in this critical condition, the Seventh
Regiment passed down Broadway on its way to the boat for Boston, whither
it was going to receive an ovation. A request for its interference was
promptly granted, and marching into the Park they quickly quelled the
riot, and the writs were served on the Mayor.

Intense excitement followed, and so great was the fear of a terrible
outbreak, that nine regiments were put under arms, ready to march at a
moment's notice.

But on the 1st of July the Court of Appeals decided the act to be
constitutional, and the disturbance ended. But of course, while this
strife was going on between the police, but little was done to arrest
disorder in the city. The lawless became emboldened, and in the evening
before the 4th of July a disturbance began, which for a time threatened
the most serious consequences.

DEAD-RABBITS' RIOT.

The origin of the term "Dead Rabbits," which became so well known this
year from being identified with a serious riot, is not certainly known.
It is said that an organization known as the "Roach Guards," called
after a liquor dealer by that name, became split into two factions, and
in one of their stormy meetings some one threw a dead rabbit into the
room, and one party suddenly proposed to assume the name.

These two factions became bitterly hostile to each other; and on the day
before the 4th of July came in collision, but finally separated without
doing much damage. They were mostly young men, some of them being mere
boys.

The next day, the fight was renewed at Nos. 40 and 42 Bowery Street,
and clubs, stones, and even pistols were freely used. The "Dead Rabbits"
were beaten and retired, yelling and firing revolvers in the air, and
attacking everybody that came in their way. Their uniform was a blue
stripe on their pantaloons, while that of the Roach Guards was a red
stripe. People in the neighborhood were frightened, and fastened their
doors and windows. No serious damage was done, however.

About ten o'clock, a policeman in Worth Street, while endeavoring to
clear the sidewalk, was knocked down and severely beaten. At length,
breaking away from his assailants, he hastened to the central office in
White Street, and reported the state of things. A squad of police was
immediately dispatched to arrest the ringleaders. On reaching Centre
Street they found a desperate fight going on, and immediately rushed in,
to put a stop to it. The belligerents at once made common cause against
them. A bloody hand-to-hand conflict followed, but the police at length
forced the mob to retreat. The latter, however, did not give up
the contest, but mounting to the upper stories and roofs of the
tenement-houses, rained down clubs and stones so fiercely, that the
police were driven off with only two prisoners.

Comparative quiet was now restored, though the excitement spread in
every direction. It lasted, however, only an hour or two, when suddenly
a loud yell was heard near the Tombs, accompanied with the report of
fire-arms, and crowds of people came pouring down Baxter and Leonard
Streets, to get out of the way of bullets. Some wounded men were carried
by, and the utmost terror and confusion prevailed. The air was filled
with flying missiles and oaths, and shouts of defiance. Now the Dead
Rabbits would drive their foes before them, and again be driven back.
The bloody fight thus swayed backwards and forwards through the narrow
streets for a long time. At length twenty-five Metropolitan Police
appeared on the scene, while fifty more were held in reserve. Though
assailed at every step with clubs and stones, they marched steadily on,
clearing the crowd as they advanced, and forcing the Dead Rabbits into
the houses, whither they followed them, mounting even to the roof, and
clubbing them at every step. After clearing the houses, they resumed
their march, when they were again attacked by the increasing crowd, many
of them armed with muskets and pistols. Barricades were now erected,
behind which the mob rallied, and the contest assumed the aspect of
a regular battle. The notorious Captain Rynders came on the ground,
between six and seven o'clock, and attempted to restore quiet.
Not succeeding, however, he repaired to the office of the Police
Commissioners, and told Commissioner Draper, if he had not police force
enough to disperse the mob, he should call out the military. The latter
replied that he had made a requisition on Major-General Sandford, for
three regiments, and that they would soon be on the ground. But it was
nine o'clock before they made their appearance. The police then formed
in two bodies of seventy-five men each, and supported, one by the
Seventy-first Regiment and the other by the Eighth, marched down
White and Worth Streets. This formidable display of force overawed the
rioters, and they fled in every direction. This ended the riot, although
the military were kept on duty during the night.

At times, the fight was close and deadly, and it was reported that eight
were killed and some thirty wounded.

BREAD RIOT.

In the autumn, there came a financial crisis, that was so wide-spread
and disastrous that the lower classes suffered for want of food. Banks
suspended specie payment, manufactories were forced to stop work, and
paralysis fell on the whole industry of the nation. It was estimated
that ten thousand persons were thrown out of employment. These soon used
up their earnings, and destitution and suffering of course followed.
Their condition grew worse as cold weather came on, and many actually
died of starvation. At length they became goaded to desperation, and
determined to help themselves to food. Gaunt men and women, clad in
tatters, gathered in the Park, and that most fearful of all cries, when
raised by a mob, "Bread," arose on every side. Propositions were made to
break open the stores, and get what they needed. Flour was hoarded up
in them because so little could be got on from the West. The granaries
there were groaning with provisions; but there was no money to pay for
the transportation. There was money East, but kept locked up in fear. As
this became known to the mob, their exasperation increased. To know that
there were both food enough and money enough, while they were starving
to death, was enough to drive them mad, and there were ominous
mutterings. Fortunately, the authorities saw in time the threatened
danger, and warded it off. A great many were set to work on the Central
Park and other public works, while soup-houses were opened throughout
the city, and private associations formed to relieve the suffering; and
the winter passed without any outbreak, though more than five thousand
business-houses in the country failed, with liabilities reaching three
hundred millions of dollars.



CHAPTER X.


DRAFT RIOTS OF 1863.

Cause of the Riots--The London _Times_.--Draft called a despotic
Measure.--The despotic Power given to Washington by Congress.--Despotic
Action sometimes Necessary, in order to save the Life of the
Nation.--The Rights of Government.--Drafting the Legitimate Way to raise
an Army--It is not Unequal or Oppressive.

The ostensible cause of the riots of 1863 was hostility to the draft,
because it was a tyrannical, despotic, unjust measure--an act which has
distinguished tyrants the world over, and should never be tolerated by a
free people. Open hostility to oppression was more than once hinted in a
portion of the press--as not only a right, but a duty.

Even the London _Times_ said, "It would have been strange, indeed, if
the American people had submitted to a measure which is a distinctive
mark of the most despotic governments of the Continent." As if the
fact that a measure, because resorted to by a despotic government, was
therefore necessarily wrong. It might as well be said, that because
settling national difficulties by an appeal to arms has always been
a distinctive feature of despotic governments, therefore the American
people should refuse to sustain the government by declaring or
prosecuting any war; or that because it has always been a distinctive
feature of despotic governments to have naval and military schools, to
train men to the art of war, therefore the American people should not
submit to either. It is not of the slightest consequence to us what
despotic governments do or not do; the simple question is, whether the
measure is necessary for the protection of our own government, and the
welfare of the people. To leave this untouched, and talk only about
despotism, the right of the people, and all that, is mere demagogism,
and shows him who utters it to be unfit to control public opinion.
Besides, there is a great difference between measures that are despotic,
which are put forth to save the nation's life, or honor, and those put
forth to destroy freedom, and for selfish ends. Not that, intrinsically,
despotic measures are always not to be deprecated and avoided, if
possible; for if tolerated in one case, they may be exacted in another.

[Illustration: FORT LAFAYETTE, NEW YORK HARBOR.]

[Illustration: FORT HAMILTON, from whence U.S. Troops were sent to aid
in suppressing the Draft Riot of 1863.]

Liberty can never be guarded too carefully, or the barriers erected
around the rights of every individual respected too scrupulously. But
everything in this world is a choice between two evils. The greatest
wisdom cannot avoid _all_ evils; it can only choose the least. Sound
statesmanship regards any stretch of power better than the overthrow of
the nation. Probably there never was a more able and wise body of men
assembled, or more jealous of any exercise of arbitrary power, than the
First Congress of the United States; and yet, almost in the commencement
of our struggle for independence, when events wore such a gloomy aspect
that failure seemed inevitable, rising above its fears of despotic
measures, in its greater fear of total defeat, it conferred on
Washington powers that made him to a large extent military dictator. He
was authorized to raise sixteen battalions of infantry, three thousand
light-horse, three regiments of artillery, together with a corps of
engineers, and _appoint the officers himself_. He had, also, full power,
when he deemed it necessary, to call on the several States for the
militia; to appoint throughout _the entire army all the officers under
brigadiers_; fill up all vacancies; to take whatever he wanted for the
use of his troops, wherever he could find it, with no other restriction
than that he must pay for it, which last was nullified, because he was
empowered to _seize and lock up every man who refused to receive in pay
Continental money_. It would seem impossible that a body of men who were
so extremely sensitive in bestowing power on a military commander, and
so watchful of the rights of individuals, could have committed such an
act; and yet, who does not see that, under the circumstances, it
was wise. Now, granting that conscription is a despotic measure, no
truthful, candid man will deny that, in case of a war, where men must
be had, and can be got in no other way, that it would be the duty of
government to enforce it. It is idle to reply that the supposition is
absurd--that in this country such a thing can never happen; for what has
been in the world can be again. Besides, this does meet the question of
the _right_ of the Government, that must be settled before the emergency
comes. Now, we do not believe there is sounder principle, or one that
every unbiassed mind does not concede with the readiness that it does an
axiom, that, if necessary to protect and save itself, a government may
not only order a draft, but call out _every_ able-bodied man in the
nation. If this right does not inhere in our government, it is built on
a foundation of sand, and the sooner it is abandoned the better.

But we go farther, and deny that a draft is a despotic measure at all,
but is a just and equitable mode of raising an army. True, if troops
enough can be raised on a reasonable bounty, it is more expedient to
do so; but the moment that bounty becomes so exorbitant as to tempt the
cupidity of those in whom neither patriotism nor sense of duty have any
power, volunteering becomes an evil. We found it so in our recent war.
The bounty was a little fortune to a certain class, the benefit of which
they had no idea of losing by being shot, and hence they deserted, or
shammed sickness, so that scarce half the men ever got to the front,
while those who did being influenced by no motive higher than cupidity,
became worthless soldiers. A draft takes in enough men of a higher stamp
to leaven the mass. The first Napoleon, when asked what made his first
"army of Italy" so resistless, replied that almost every man in it was
intelligent enough to act as a clerk. The objection that a rich man, if
drafted, can buy a substitute, while the poor man, with a large family
depending upon him, must go, if of any weight at all, lies against
the whole structure of society, which gives the rich man at every step
immunities over the poor man. When pestilence sweeps through a city, the
rich man can flee to a healthy locality, while the poor man must stay
and die; and when the pestilence of war sweeps over the land, must one
attempt to reverse all this relation between wealth and poverty?

When society gets in that happy state, that the rich man has no
advantages over the poor, there will be no need either of drafting or
volunteering. Yet, after all, it is not so unequal as it at first sight
appears. War must have money as well as men, and the former the rich
have to furnish; and if they do this, it is but fair that they should be
allowed to furnish with it also the men to do their fighting. Besides,
there must be some rule that would exempt the men that carry on the
business of the country.

We have said this much, because the riots in New York, which might have
ended in national destruction, were brought about by preaching views
directly the opposite of these.

The military spirit is so prevalent in the nation, that in any ordinary
war the Government can get all the troops it wants by giving a moderate
bounty, and wages but a little greater than can be secured at any
ordinary business or occupation. Still, the right to raise them
differently should never be denied it.

When the old militia system was given up in the State, and a certain
number of regiments were raised and equipped and drilled for active
duty, and for which the people paid taxes, it was thought they would
furnish all the quota that would ever be called for from the State--and
in any ordinary war will. The crisis, however, in which we found
ourselves had never been anticipated, and hence not provided against,
and when Congress attempted to do it in what seemed to it the best
way, an outcry was raised of injustice and oppression. It was hard,
doubtless, but there are a great many hard things in the world that have
been and have to be borne. The feeling of hostility unquestionably would
have been less intense, had not so many of those to be drafted been
bitterly opposed to the war. Believing it to have been brought about by
the reckless demagogism and fanaticism of their political opponents,
and levied as it was against those who had been their warm political
friends, indeed, chief dependence for political success, it was asking
a good deal, to require them to step to the front, and fight in such a
war. Whether this feeling was right or wrong, had nothing to do with the
influence it actually exerted.

On this feeling was based, in fact, the real hostility to the draft, in
which a portion of the press shared. But, as we said before, we having
nothing to do with the justice or injustice of this belief or feeling;
we only state the fact, with our denial that it furnished any excuse for
the denunciations uttered against the draft as a wrong use of power,
or the refusal to submit to it on that account. The Government, whether
wrong or right, must be supported, or abandoned and given over to
revolution. In ordinary times, denunciation of its measures, and the
most strenuous opposition to them, is the right and often the duty of
every conscientious man. This right, exercised by the press, is one of
the most effectual checks against abuses, and the most powerful lever
to work reform and changes. But in a great crisis, to set one's self
against a measure on which the fate of the nation hangs, is a flagrant
abuse of that right; for the effort, if successful, will not work change
and an improved condition of things, but immediate, irretrievable ruin,
and put the nation beyond the reach of reform.



CHAPTER XI.


Rights of Municipalities.--Interference of the Legislature with the City
Government.--Conflict between the Governor and Police Commissioners.--A
Wrong becomes a Practical Blessing.--Provost Marshals.--Riot not
anticipated.--Bad time to commence the Draft.--Preparations of
Superintendent Kennedy.--The Police System.--Attack on Provost Marshal
Captain Erhardt.--Telegrams of the Police.--Kennedy starts on a Tour of
Observation.

The rights of municipalities have been conceded from the first dawn of
constitutional liberty indeed municipal freedom may be said to be
the first step in the onward progress of the race toward the full
recognition of its rights. To interfere with a great commercial city
like New York, except by general laws, is as a rule unwise, impolitic,
and, indeed, unjust. Like a separate State, it had better suffer many
and great evils, than to admit the right of outward power to regulate
its internal affairs. To do so, in any way, is fraught with mischief;
but to do so as a political party, is infinitely more pernicious.
It leaves a great metropolis, on which the welfare of the commercial
business of the nation mainly depends, a foot-ball for ambitious or
selfish politicians to play with. But as there are exceptions to all
rules, so there may be to this--still they should always be exceptions,
and not claimed as a settled policy.

We mention this, because the interference of the Legislature, or rather
the dominant part of it, in the internal policy of New York, about the
time the war commenced, was in itself a mischievous and tyrannical act,
while, under the circumstances that soon after occurred, it proved of
incalculable benefit.

With the city stripped of its military, and the forts in the harbor
of their garrisons, the police, under the old regime, during the
draft riots, would have been trustless and powerless, even if the city
government had attempted to uphold the national authority, which is
doubtful. The Republicans established a Board of Police Commissioners,
the majority of which were of their own political faith, who had the
entire control of the department. Under their hands, an entire different
set of men from those formerly selected, composed the force, and a
regular system of drills, in fact, a thorough organization, adopted.

But in 1862 the Democrats elected their governor, though they failed to
secure the Legislature. Mr. Seymour, immediately on his inauguration,
summoned the Commissioners to appear before him, the object of which
was to change the character of the board. The latter understood it, and
refused to appear. Legal proceedings were then commenced against them,
but they were staved off, and in the meantime the Legislature had got to
work, and took the matter in hand; and Messrs. Bowen, Acton, and Bergen,
were made to constitute the board--John A. Kennedy being superintendent
of police. Mr. Bowen, the president of the board, having been appointed
brigadier-general, resigned, and Mr. Acton, under the law, became
president. This political character of the board, so diametrically
opposed to the feelings and wishes of the vast majority of the citizens,
tested by the ordinary rules and principles of a Republican Government,
was unjust; a palpable, deliberate encroachment on the right of
self-government. But as we remarked, just now, it was fortunate for the
country that such a state of things existed. In the extraordinary,
not anticipated, and perilous condition in which we found ourselves,
everything was changed. Neither constitutions nor laws had been framed
to meet such an emergency, and both, in many cases, had to be suspended.
What was right before, often became wrong now, and vice versa. The
article inserted in the Constitution of the State, that the moment a
bank refused specie payment, it became bankrupt, was a wise and just
provision, but to enforce it now, would be financial ruin, and it was
not done.

This usurpation of the government of New York by the Republican party,
which seemed so unjust, was, doubtless, under the circumstances, the
salvation of the city. It was, moreover, highly important to the whole
country, in the anomalous war which threatened our very existence, that
the controlling power of the city should be in sympathy with the General
Government, but it was especially, vitally so, when the latter put
its provost marshals in it to enforce the draft. That this _mode_ of
enforcing the draft by provost marshals, was an encroachment on the
rights and powers of the separate States, there can be no doubt. It is
equally clear that the proper way was to call on the separate governors
for their quota, and let _them_ enforce the draft. If they refused to
do it, then it was time for the General Government to take the matter in
its own hand. This, however, was no encroachment on _individual_ rights.
The oppressive nature of the act and the result were the same to the
person, whether enforced by the State or General Government. Still it
was a total departure from the practice of the General Government
since its first organization, and it moreover established a dangerous
precedent, which the sooner it is abandoned the better. But this had
nothing to do with the opposition to the draft. That was a personal
objection.

With the Police Department in sympathy with the rioters, it is not
difficult to see what the end would have been. We do not mean by that,
that the heads of the department would not have endeavored to do their
duty, but it would have been impossible to control the kind of element
they would inevitably have to deal with. This even the long-tried,
trusted leaders of the Democratic party acknowledged. In fact, the
police force would not have been in a condition, with ever so good a
will, to have acted with the skill and promptness it did.

The draft riots, as they are called, were supposed by some to be the
result of a deep-laid conspiracy on the part of those opposed to the
war, and that the successful issue of Lee's invasion of Pennsylvania
was to be the signal for open action. Whether this be so or not, it is
evident that the outbreak in New York City on the 13th of July, not only
from the manner of its commencement, the absence of proper organization,
and almost total absence of leadership, was not the result of a general
well-understood plot. It would seem from the facts that those who
started the movement had no idea at the outset of proceeding to the
length they did. They simply desired to break up the draft in some of
the upper districts of the city, and destroy the registers in which
certain names were enrolled.

A general provost marshal had been appointed over the whole city, which
was subdivided into various districts, in each of which was an assistant
provost marshall. Although there had been no provision for a general
assistant provost marshal or aid, yet Colonel Nugent acted in this
capacity. The drafting was to take place in the separate districts,
under the direction of the assistant provost marshals.

Although there had been some rumors of resistance to it, they received
very little credence, and no special provision was made for such an
emergency. The city was almost denuded of the military; the regiments
having been called to Pennsylvania to repel Lee's invasion; yet so
little fear was entertained, that even the police department was not
requested to make any special preparation. The Invalid Corps, as it was
called, composed of the maimed and crippled soldiers who could no longer
keep the field, were thought to be quite sufficient to preserve the
peace.

The draft commenced on Saturday in the Eleventh and Ninth Districts,
and passed off quietly; and it was thought the same order would be
maintained throughout, and if any force were necessary to repress
violence, it would be when the conscripts were required to take their
place in the ranks.

Still Superintendent Kennedy of the Police Department feared there might
be some difficulty experienced by the officers in charge of the draft,
even if no serious resistance should be offered. Some of the enrolling
officers, a short time previous, while taking the names of those
subject to draft, had been assailed with very abusive language, or their
questions received in sullen silence or answered falsely; fictitious
names often being given instead of the true ones. In the Ninth District,
embracing the lower part of the city, the provost marshal, Captain Joel
T. Erhardt, came near losing his life in the performance of this duty.
At the corner of Liberty Street and Broadway a building was being torn
down, preparatory to the erection of another, and the workmen engaged in
it threatened the enrolling officer who came to take down their names,
with violence, and drove him off.

Captain Erhardt, on the report being made to him, repaired to
head-quarters, and requested of Colonel Nugent a force of soldiers to
protect the officer in the discharge of his duty. But this the latter
declined to do, fearing it would exasperate the men and bring on a
collision, and requested the Captain to go himself, saying, if he did,
there would be no difficulty. Captain Erhardt declined, on the ground
that he was not an enrolling officer. But Colonel Nugent persisting, the
Captain finally told him, if he ordered him, as his superior officer, to
go, he would. Nugent replied that he might so consider it. Erhardt then
said he would go, but only on one condition, that if he got in trouble
and asked for help, he would send him troops. To this he agreed, and
Captain Erhardt proceeded to the building on the corner of Broadway and
Liberty Street, and stepping on a plank that led from the sidewalk to
the floor, asked a man on a ladder for his name. The fellow refused to
answer, when an altercation ensuing, he stepped down, and seizing an
iron bar advanced on the provost marshal. The latter had nothing but a
light Malacca cane in his hand, but as he saw the man meant murder he
drew a pistol from his pocket, and levelled it full at his breast.
This brought him to a halt; and after looking at Erhardt for awhile he
dropped his bar. Erhardt then put up his pistol, and went on with his
enrolling. The man was dogged and angry, and watching his opportunity,
suddenly made a rush at the provost marshal. The latter had only time to
deal him, as he sprang forward, one heavy blow with his cane, when they
closed. In a moment both reeled from the plank and fell to the cellar
beneath, the provost marshal on top. Covered with dirt, he arose and
drew his pistol, and mounted to the sidewalk.

The foreman sympathized with the workmen, and Erhardt could do nothing.
Determined to arrest them for resisting the draft, he despatched a
messenger to Colonel Nugent for the promised force. None, however, was
sent. He, in the meantime, stood with drawn pistol facing the men, who
dared not advance on him. Aid not arriving, he sent again, and still
later a third time. He stood thus facing the workmen with his pistol for
three hours, and finally had to leave without making any arrests. This
failure of Colonel Nugent to fulfil his promise and perform his duty
came near costing Erhardt his life, and then and there starting the
riot. The next day he had the foreman arrested, and completed his work
of enrolling.

The time selected for commencing the draft was unfortunate. Saturday, of
all days in the week, was the worst. It was a new thing, and one under
any circumstances calculated to attract universal attention among the
lower classes, and provoke great and angry discussion. Hence, to have
the draft commence on Saturday, and allow the names to be published in
the papers on Sunday morning, so that all could read them, and spend the
day in talking the matter over, and lay plans for future action, was a
most unwise, thoughtless procedure. If there had been any choice as to
the day, one, if possible, should have been chosen that preceded the
busiest day of the week. To have the list of twelve hundred names that
had been drawn read over and commented on all day by men who enlivened
their discussion with copious draughts of bad whiskey, especially when
most of those drawn were laboring-men or poor mechanics, who were
unable to hire a substitute, was like applying fire to gunpowder. If a
well-known name, that of a man of wealth, was among the number, it only
increased the exasperation, for the law exempted every one drawn who
would pay three hundred dollars towards a substitute. This was taking
practically the whole number of soldiers called for out of the laboring
classes. A great proportion of these being Irish, it naturally became an
Irish question, and eventually an Irish riot. It was in their eyes the
game of hated England over again--oppression of Irishmen. This state
of feeling could not be wholly concealed. Kennedy, aware of it, felt
it necessary, on Monday morning, to take some precautionary measures.
Still, in the main, only small squads of policemen were sent to the
various points where the drafting was to take place, and merely to keep
back the crowd and maintain order, in case a few disorderly persons
should attempt to create disturbance. It was true, a rumor had been put
in circulation that a body of men had planned to seize the arsenal, and
Kennedy, as a matter of precaution, sent fifty policemen to occupy
it. But during the morning, word was brought him that the
street-contractor's men in the Nineteenth Ward were not at work. This
looked ominous, and he began to fear trouble. Thinking that Provost
Marshal Maniere's office, 1190 Broadway, and that of Marshal Jenkins,
corner of Forty-sixth Street and Third Avenue, would be more likely to
be the points attacked, he hurried off the following telegrams:

July 13, 8.35 A.M. From Central Office to Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and
Twenty-first Precincts: Send ten men and a sergeant forthwith to No. 677
Third Avenue, and report to Captain Porter of Nineteenth Precinct for
duty. J. A. KENNEDY.

July 13, 8.50 A.M. To Twenty-ninth Precinct: Place a squad of ten of
your men, with a competent sergeant, at No. 1190 Broadway, during the
draft--if you want more, inform me. J. A. K.

8.55 A.M. To Sixteenth and Twentieth Precincts: Send your reserve to
Seventh Avenue Arsenal forthwith.

J. A. K.

Telegrams were now pouring in from different quarters, showing that
mischief was afoot, and at nine o'clock he sent the following despatch:

"To all platoons, New York and Brooklyn: Call in your reserve platoons,
and hold them at the stations subject to further orders."

It should be noted, that ordinarily one-half of the police of the
Metropolitan District, which took in Brooklyn, is relieved from both
patrol and reserve duty, from six o'clock in the morning till six in the
evening. The other half is divided into two sections, which alternately
perform patrol and reserve duty during the day. A relief from patrol
duty of one of these sections takes place at eight o'clock A.M., when
it goes to breakfast. Hence, the orders issued by the Superintendent to
call in these could not reach them without a considerable delay.

It now being about ten o'clock, Mr. Kennedy, having despatched an
additional body of men to the Twenty-ninth Precinct, got into his
light wagon, to take a drive through the districts reported to be most
dangerous. He went up far as the arsenal, and giving such directions as
he thought necessary, started across the town to visit Marshal Jenkins'
quarters in the Twenty-ninth Precinct.



CHAPTER XII.

Commencement of the Mob.--Its Line of March.--Its immense Size.--Attacks
a Provost-marshal's Office, in Third Avenue.--Set on Fire.--Terrible
Struggle of Kennedy for his Life with the Mob.--Carried to Head-quarters
unconscious.--Acton's Preparations.--The Telegraph System.--Mob cutting
down Telegraph Poles.--Number of Despatches sent over the Wires during
the Riot.--Superintendent of Telegraph Bureau seized and held Prisoner
by the Mob.

Meanwhile, events were assuming an alarming aspect in the western part
of the city. Early in the morning men began to assemble here in separate
groups, as if in accordance with a previous arrangement, and at last
moved quietly north along the various avenues. Women, also, like camp
followers, took the same direction in crowds. They were thus divided
into separate gangs, apparently to take each avenue in their progress,
and make a clean sweep. The factories and workshops were visited, and
the men compelled to knock off work and join them, while the proprietors
were threatened with the destruction of their property, if they made any
opposition. The separate crowds were thus swelled at almost every step,
and armed with sticks, and clubs, and every conceivable weapon they
could lay hands on, they moved north towards some point which had
evidently been selected as a place of rendezvous. This proved to be a
vacant lot near Central Park, and soon the living streams began to flow
into it, and a more wild, savage, and heterogeneous-looking mass could
not be imagined. After a short consultation they again took up the
line of march, and in two separate bodies, moved down Fifth and Sixth
Avenues, until they reached Forty-sixth and Forty-seventh Streets, when
they turned directly east.

The number composing this first mob has been so differently estimated,
that it would be impossible from reports merely, to approximate the
truth. A pretty accurate idea, however, can be gained of its immense
size, from a statement made by Mr. King, son of President King, of
Columbia College. Struck by its magnitude, he had the curiosity to get
some estimate of it by timing its progress, and he found that although
it filled the broad street from curbstone to curbstone, and was moving
rapidly, it took between twenty and twenty-five minutes for it to pass a
single point.

A ragged, coatless, heterogeneously weaponed army, it heaved
tumultuously along toward Third Avenue. Tearing down the telegraph poles
as it crossed the Harlem & New Haven Railroad track, it surged angrily
up around the building where the drafting was going on. The small squad
of police stationed there to repress disorder looked on bewildered,
feeling they were powerless in the presence of such a host. Soon a
stone went crashing through a window, which was the signal for a general
assault on the doors. These giving way before the immense pressure, the
foremost rushed in, followed by shouts and yells from those behind, and
began to break up the furniture. The drafting officers, in an adjoining
room, alarmed, fled precipitately through the rear of the building. The
mob seized the wheel in which were the names, and what books, papers,
and lists were left, and tore them up, and scattered them in every
direction. A safe stood on one side, which was supposed to contain
important papers, and on this they fell with clubs and stones, but in
vain. Enraged at being thwarted, they set fire to the building, and
hurried out of it. As the smoke began to ascend, the onlooking multitude
without sent up a loud cheer. Though the upper part of the building
was occupied by families, the rioters, thinking that the officers were
concealed there, rained stones and brick-bats against the windows,
sending terror into the hearts of the inmates. Deputy Provost Marshal
Vanderpool, who had mingled in the crowd, fearing for the lives of the
women and children, boldly stepped to the front, and tried to appease
the mob, telling them the papers were all destroyed, and begged them to
fall back, and let others help the inmates of the building, or take hold
themselves. The reply was a heavy blow in the face. Vanderpool shoved
the man who gave it aside, when he was assailed with a shower of blows
and curses. Fearing for his life, he broke through the crowd, and
hastened to the spot where the police were standing, wholly powerless in
the midst of this vast, excited throng.

In the meantime, the flames, unarrested, made rapid way, and
communicating to the adjoining building, set it on fire. The volumes of
smoke, rolling heavenward, and the crackling and roaring of the flames,
seemed for a moment to awe the mob, and it looked silently on the
ravaging of a power more terrible and destructive than its own.

At this time Superintendent Kennedy was quietly making his way across
the town toward the office of with a heavy club, endeavored to break in
his skull, but Kennedy dodged his blows. Careful only for his head, he
let them beat his body, while he made desperate efforts to break through
the mass, whose demoniacal yells and oaths showed that they intended
to take his life. In the struggle the whole crowd, swaying to and fro,
slowly advanced toward Lexington Avenue, coming, as they did so, upon a
wide mud-hole. "Drown him! drown, him!" arose at once on every side,
and the next moment a heavy blow, planted under his ear, sent him
headforemost into the water.

Falling with his face amid the stones, he was kicked and trampled on,
and pounded, till he was a mass of gore. Still struggling desperately
for life, he managed to get to his feet again, and made a dash for the
middle of the pond. The water was deep, and his murderers, disliking to
get wet, did not follow him, but ran around to the other side, to meet
him as he came out. But Kennedy was ahead of them, and springing up
the bank into Lexington Avenue, saw a man whom he knew, and called
out: "John Eagan, come here and save my life!" Mr. Eagan, who was a
well-known and influential resident of that vicinity, immediately
rushed forward to his assistance, and arrested his pursuers. But the
Superintendent was so terribly bruised and mangled, that Eagan did not
recognize him. He, however, succeeded in keeping the mob back, who,
seeing the horrible condition their victim was in, doubtless thought
they had finished him. Other citizens now coming forward, a passing feed
wagon was secured, into which Kennedy was lifted, and driven to police
head-quarters. Acton, who was in the street as the wagon approached, saw
the mangled body within, did not dream who it was. The driver inquired
where he should take him. "Around to the station," carelessly replied
Acton. The driver hesitated, and inquired again, "Where to?" Acton,
supposing it was some drunkard, bruised in a brawl, replied rather
petulantly, "Around to the station." The man then told him it was
Kennedy. Acton, scanning the features more closely, saw that it indeed
was the Superintendent himself in this horrible condition. As the
officers gathered around the bleeding, almost unconscious form, a murmur
of wrath was heard, a sure premonition what work would be done when the
hour of vengeance should come.

Kennedy was carried into head-quarters, and a surgeon immediately sent
for. After an examination had shown that no bones were broken, he was
taken to the house of a friend, and, before the week closed, was on his
feet again.

Acton, now the legal head of the police force, soon showed he was the
right man in the right place. Of a nervous temperament, he was quick and
prompt, yet cool and decided, and relentless as death in the discharge
of his duty. Holding the views of the first Napoleon respecting mobs,
he did not believe in speech-making to them. His addresses were to
be locust clubs and grape-shot. Taking in at once the gravity of the
situation, he, after despatching such force as was immediately available
to the scene of the riot, telegraphed to the different precincts to have
the entire reserve force concentrated at head-quarters, which were in
Mulberry Street, near Bleecker.

He saw at once, to have his force effective it must be well in hand,
so that he could send it out in any direction in sufficient strength
to bear down all opposition. Subsequent events proved the wisdom of his
policy, for we shall see, after it had been accomplished, the police
never lost a battle.

There being thirty-two precincts in the limits of the Metropolitan
Police, a vast territory was covered. These were reached by a system of
telegraph wires, called the Telegraph Bureau, of which James Crowley
was superintendent and Eldred Polhamus deputy. There were three
operators--Chapin, Duvall, and Lucas. A telegraph station was in
each precinct--thus making thirty-two, all coming to a focus at
head-quarters. These are also divided into five sections--north, south,
east, west, and central. The Commissioners, therefore, sitting in
the central office, can send messages almost instantaneously to every
precinct of the city, and receive immediate answers. Hence, Mr. Acton
was a huge Briareus, reaching out his arms to Fort Washington in the
north, and Brooklyn in the south, and at the same time touching the
banks of both rivers. No other system could be devised giving such
tremendous power to the police--the power of instant information and
rapid concentration at any desired point. That it proved itself the
strong right arm of the Commissioners, it needs only to state, that
during the four days of the riot, between five and six thousand messages
passed over the wires, showing that they were worked to their utmost
capacity, day and night. The more intelligent of the mob understood
this, and hence at the outset attempted to break up this communication,
by cutting down the poles on Third Avenue. This stopped all messages
to and from the precincts at Fort Washington, Manhattanville, Harlem,
Yorkville, and Bloomingdale, as well as with the Nineteenth Precinct.

But fortunately, the orders to these had passed over the wires before
the work was completed. Subsequently, the rioters cut down the poles
in First Avenue, in Twenty-second Street, and Ninth Avenue, destroying
communication between several other precincts.

Mr. Crowley, the Superintendent of the Telegraph Bureau, was made
acquainted early, Monday, by mere accident with this plan of the
rioters. Coming to town in the Third Avenue cars from Yorkville, where
he resided, he suddenly found the car arrested by a mob, and getting out
with the other passengers, discovered men chopping furiously away at the
telegraph poles; and without stopping to think, rushed up to them and
ordered them to desist. One of the ruffians, looking up, cried out, "he
is one of the d--d operators." Instantly yells arose, "Smash him," "Kill
him," when those nearest seized him. By great adroitness he disarmed
their suspicions sufficiently to prevent further violence, though they
held him prisoner for an hour. At last, seeing an opportunity when more
important objects attracted their attention, he quietly worked his way
out and escaped.



CHAPTER XIII.

Soldiers beaten by the Mob.--Gallant Fight of Sergeant McCredie.--Mob
Triumphant.--Beat Police Officers unmercifully.--Fearful Scenes.--Fifty
thousand People block Third Avenue.--A whole Block of Houses
burning.--Attack on a Gun Factory.--Defeat of the Broadway
Squad.--Houses sacked in Lexington Avenue.--Telegraph
Dispatches.--Bull's Head Tavern burned.--Block on Broadway
burned.--Burning of the <DW64>s' Orphan Asylum.--Attack on Mayor
Opdyke's House.--A Crisis nobly met.--Gallant Fight and Victory of
Sergeant Carpenter.--A thrilling Spectacle.

In the meantime, the mob that stood watching the spreading conflagration
in Third Avenue increased rapidly, fed by tributaries from the
tenement-houses, slums, and workshops in that vicinity. But they were
soon startled from their state of comparative quietness, by the cry of
"the soldiers are coming." The Invalid Corps, a small body sent from the
Park, was approaching. As it came up, the soldiers fired, either blank
cartridges, or over the heads of the crowd, doubtless thinking a single
discharge would disperse it. The folly of such a course was instantly
shown, for the mob, roused into sudden fury, dashed on the small body
of soldiers before they could reload, and snatching away their muskets,
pounded them over the head, and chased them like sheep for ten blocks.
One soldier was left for dead on the pavement, beaten to a jelly.
Another, breaking from the crowd, attempted to climb some rocks near
Forty-second Street, when his pursuers grabbed him and dragged him
to the top, where they tore off his uniform, and beat him till he was
senseless, and then threw him down to the bottom and left him.

In the meantime, Sergeant McCredie, "fighting Mac," as he was called,
from the Fifteenth Precinct, Captain C. W. Caffrey, arrived on the scene
with a few men. Marching down Forty-third street to Third Avenue, they
looked up two blocks, and to their amazement beheld the broad avenue,
as far as they could see, blocked with the mob, while before it, bearing
swiftly down on them, and running for life, came the terror-stricken
Invalid Corps. At this juncture, other squads sent from various
precincts arrived, swelling this force to forty-four. It was a mere
handful among these enraged thousands; but McCredie, who at once took
command, determined to stand his ground, and meet as best he could the
overwhelming numbers that came driving down like a storm, filling the
air with yells and oaths, and brandishing their clubs over their heads.
He thought that another police force was beyond the mob, on the north,
and if he could press through and form a junction with it, the two
combined would be strong enough to hold their own. He therefore quickly
formed his men in line across the street, and awaited the shock. As the
disorderly mass following up the fugitives drew near, McCredie ordered a
charge, and this mere handful of men moved swiftly and steadily upon
it. The rioters, stunned by the suddenness and strength of the blow,
recoiled, and the police, following up their advantage, drove them back,
step by step, as far as Forty-sixth street. Here the sergeant, instead
of meeting another body of police, as he expected, met a heavier body
of rioters that were blocking up Forty-sixth Street on both sides of
the avenue. Backed by these, the main body rallied and charged on the
exhausted police force in turn, and almost surrounded them. To render
their already desperate situation hopeless, another mob suddenly closed
in behind them from Forty-fifth street.

Thus attacked in front and rear with clubs, iron bars, guns and pistols,
and rained upon with stones and brick-bats from the roofs of the houses,
they were unable longer to keep together, and broke and fled--part up
the side streets, and some down the avenue--bruised, torn, and bleeding.

The desperate nature of this first conflict can be imagined, when, out
of the fourteen men composing Sergeant McCredie's original force, only
five were left unwounded. At the very outset of the charge, the sergeant
himself was struck with an iron bar on the wrist, which rendered the arm
almost useless. In the retreat, four men assailed him at once. Knocking
down two, he took refuge in the house of a German, when a young woman
told him to jump between two mattresses. He did so, and she covered him
up just as his pursuers forced their way in. Streaming through the house
from cellar to garret, they came back, and demanded of the young woman
where the man was hid. She quietly said he had escaped by the rear of
the house. Believing she told the truth, they took their departure.
Officer Bennett was knocked down three times before he ceased fighting.
The last time he was supposed to be dead, when the wretches began to
rob him even of his clothing, stripping him of every article except his
drawers. He was soon after taken up and carried to St. Luke's Hospital,
and placed in the dead-house, where he lay for several hours. When the
sad news was brought to his wife, she hastened to the hospital, and fell
weeping on the lifeless form of her husband. She could not believe he
was dead, and laying her hand on his heart, found to her joy that it
pulsated. She immediately flew to the officials of the hospital, and
had him brought in, and restoratives applied. He revived, but remained
unconscious for three days, while the riot raged around him. Officer
Travis, in the flight down the avenue, saw, as he looked back, that his
foremost pursuer had a pistol. Wheeling, he knocked him down, and seized
the pistol, but before he could use it, a dozen clubs were raining
blows upon him, which brought him to the ground. The infuriated men then
jumped upon him, knocking out his teeth, breaking his jaw-bone and right
hand, and terribly mutilating his whole body. Supposing him to be dead,
they then stripped him stark naked and left him on the pavement, a
ghastly spectacle to the passers-by. Officer Phillips ran the gauntlet
almost unharmed, but was pursued block after block by a portion of the
mob, till he reached Thirty-ninth street. Here he attempted to enter a
house, but it was closed against him. As he turned down the steps, one
of the pursuers, in soldier's clothes, levelled his musket at him and
fired. Missing his aim, he clubbed his weapon, and dealt him a deadly
blow. Phillips caught the musket as it descended, and wrenching it from
his grasp, knocked the fellow down with it, and started and ran across
some vacant lots to Fortieth Street. But here he was headed off by
another portion of the mob, in which was a woman, who made a lunge at
him with, a shoemaker's knife. The knife missed his throat, but passed
through his ear. Drawing it back, she made another stab, piercing his
arm. He was now bleeding profusely, and his death seemed inevitable,
when a stranger, seeing his condition, sprang forward, and covering his
body, declared he would kill the first man that advanced. Awed by his
determined manner, the fiends sullenly withdrew. Officers Sutherland and
Mingay were also badly beaten. Officer Kiernan, receiving a blow on his
head with a stone, another on the back of his neck with a hay-bale rung,
and two more on the knees, fell insensible, and would doubtless have
been killed outright, but for the wife of Eagan, who saved Kennedy.
Throwing herself over his body, she exclaimed, "for God's sake do
not kill him." Seeing that they had got to attack this lady to get at
Kiernan, they passed on.

The scene in Third Avenue at this time was fearful and appalling. It was
now noon, but the hot July sun was obscured by heavy clouds, that hung
in ominous shadows over the city, while from near Cooper Institute to
Forty-sixth Street, or about thirty blocks, the avenue was black with
human beings,--sidewalks, house-tops, windows, and stoops all filled
with rioters or spectators. Dividing it like a stream, horse-cars
arrested in their course lay strung along as far as the eye could reach.
As the glance ran along this mighty mass of men and women north, it
rested at length on huge columns of smoke rolling heavenward from
burning buildings, giving a still more fearful aspect to the scene. Many
estimated the number at this time in the street at fifty thousand.

In the meantime the fire-bell had brought the firemen on the ground, but
the mob would not let them approach the burning houses. The flames
had communicated with the adjoining block and were now making fearful
headway. At length Engineer Decker addressed the mob, which by this time
had grown thinner by the main mass moving farther down town, who told
them that everything relating to the provost marshal's office was
destroyed, and now the fire was destroying private property, some
of which doubtless belonged to persons friendly to them, and finally
persuaded them to let the engines work. Water was soon deluging the
buildings, and the fire at length arrested, but not until four were
consumed with all their contents.

The drawing commenced in the Eighth District, 1190 Broadway, Captain
Maniere provost marshal, on the same morning, and continued quietly
until about 12 o'clock, when it was adjourned, and policemen who had
been stationed there to guard it were sent over to the Ninth District,
where the mob was carrying everything before it. But coming in small
bodies, they were easily overcome and scattered. Sergeant Ellison,
especially, got badly beaten; and Sergeant Wade, who came up soon after,
and charged gallantly on the mob, shared the same fate, and had to be
taken to St. Luke's Hospital. The work of destruction having commenced,
it went on after this with the wild irregularity characteristic of
mobs. The news of the uprising and destruction of property, as it spread
through those portions of the city where the low Irish dwelt, stirred
up all the inmates, and they came thronging forth, till there were
incipient mobs on almost every corner. From this time no consecutive
narrative can be given of the after doings. This immense mass seemed
to split up into three or four sections, as different objects attracted
their attention; and they came together and separated apparently without
any concert of action. A shout and a cry in one direction would call
off a throng, while a similar shout in another would attract a portion
thither. Some feeling the need of arms, and remembering that a gun
factory was at the corner of Second Avenue and Twentieth Street, called
out to the crowd, and soon a large body was rushing in that direction.
The Police Commissioners had also thought of this, and hastily sent off
the Broadway squad to occupy it, and they succeeded, by going singly and
in pairs, in reaching it--thirty-five all told. These men, selected for
their size, being all six feet or upward, were ordered to hold the place
at all hazards.

In the meantime the mob endeavored to gain admittance, but warned off by
Sergeant Burdick, left. But scarcely a quarter of an hour had elapsed,
when they returned heavily reinforced, armed with all kinds of weapons,
and yelling and hooting like fiends. Stones and bricks came crashing
through the windows, but still the squad, though every man was armed
with a carbine, did not fire.

The mob then tried to set the factory on fire, but failed. Enraged at
being baffled, a powerful man advanced on the door with a sledge-hammer,
and began to pound against it. At length one of the panels gave way,
and as a shout arose from those looking on, he boldly attempted to crawl
through. The report of a solitary carbine was heard, and the brains of
the man lay scattered on the floor. This staggered the mob for a moment,
but soon fear gave way to rage, and shots and stones were rained against
the building, smashing in the windows, and rapidly making a clean
breach through the door. Burdick sent to Captain Cameron for aid, but he
replied that he could not reach him.

At 3:45 the following telegram was sent from the Eighteenth Precinct:

"The mob have attacked the armory, Second Avenue and Twenty-first
Street. There is danger of firing the building."

Fifteen minutes later came: "It is impossible for us to protect the
armory at Second Avenue and Twenty-first Street."

_Answer_--"Draw your men off. D. C."

The squad, in evacuating the building, found themselves cut off both in
front and at the sides.

The only mode of escape was through a hole in the rear wall, some
eighteen feet from the ground, and scarcely a foot and a half in
diameter. Piling up boxes to reach this aperture, these large men
squeezed themselves through one by one, feet foremost, and swinging to a
gutter-trough, dropped into the yard below. Climbing from thence over a
wall into a stone-yard, they sped across it to the Eighteenth Precinct
Station in Twenty-second Street. Here taking off their uniforms, they
made their way singly, or in groups of two or three, back to the central
office.

No sooner did they leave the building than the mob entered it, and the
work of pillage commenced. Every man armed himself with a musket. The
stacks of weapons left, after they had taken all they wanted, were
broken up or rendered useless. One thrown out of the window fell on a
man's head in the street and killed him.

While the armory was being attacked, another mob was sacking and burning
houses on Lexington Avenue, near Forty-seventh Street. Within five
minutes from the announcement of this fact, came from the Sixth Precinct
the following dispatch: "A mob of about seven hundred attacked some
<DW52> people in Baxter Street, and then went to the saloon of Samuel
Crook, in Chatham Street, and beat some  waiters there."

A few minutes later from Sixteenth came: "A crowd of about three hundred
men have gone to the foot of Twenty-fourth Street, to stop men in the
foundry from working."

At the same time the following was received from the Twenty-first
Precinct: "The mob avow their determination of burning this station. Our
connection by telegram may be interrupted at any moment."

Another from the Twentieth said: "A very large crowd is now going down
Fifth Avenue, to attack the _Tribune_ building."

As fast as the wires could work, followed "from the Twenty-fourth
Precinct:"

"The mob have fired the buildings corner of Broadway and Twenty-fourth
Street."

All this time, while new notes of alarm were sounded, and the police
department was struggling to get its force in hand, the work of
destruction was going on in the upper part of the city. Bull's Head
Tavern, in Forty-sixth Street, attracted the attention of the mob. The
sales of the immense herds of cattle in the adjoining yard had been
suspended, and the hotel closed. The crowd, however, forgetting the
draft, and intent only on pillage, streamed up around it, and shouted,
"Fire it! fire it!" While some were calling for axes and crowbars, ten
powerful men jumped on the stoop, and with a few heavy blows sent the
hall door flying from its hinges. The yelling crowd then rushed in, and
after helping themselves to what they wanted, applied the torch, and
soon the entire building was a mass of flame.

[Illustration: THE RIOT IN LEXINGTON AVENUE.]

At this time another mob was sacking houses in Lexington Avenue. Elegant
furniture and silver plate were borne away by the crowd, while the
ladies, with their children and servants, fled in terror from the scene.
The provost marshal's head-quarters were also set on fire, and the whole
block on Broadway, between Twenty-eighth and Twenty-ninth Streets, was
burned down, while jewelry stores and shops of all kinds were plundered
and their contents carried off. A vast horde followed the rioters for
the sole purpose of plunder, and loaded down with their spoils, could be
seen hastening home in every direction.

While these fires were under full headway, a new idea seemed to strike
the mob, or at least a portion of it. Having stopped the draft in two
districts, sacked and set on fire nearly a score of houses, and half
killed as many men, it now, impelled by a strange logic, sought to
destroy the  Orphan Asylum on Fifth Avenue, extending from
Forty-third to Forty-fourth Street. There would have been no draft
but for the war--there would have been no war but for slavery. But the
slaves were black, ergo, all blacks are responsible for the war.
This seemed to be the logic of the mob, and having reached the sage
conclusion to which it conducted, they did not stop to consider how poor
helpless orphans could be held responsible, but proceeded at once to
wreak their vengeance on them. The building was four stories high, and
besides the matrons and officers, contained over two hundred children,
from mere infants up to twelve years of age. Around this building the
rioters gathered with loud cries and oaths, sending terror into the
hearts of the inmates. Superintendent William E. Davis hurriedly
fastened the doors; but knowing they would furnish but a momentary
resistance to the armed multitude, he, with others, collected hastily
the terrified children, and carrying some in their arms, and leading
others, hurried them in a confused crowd out at the rear of the
building, just as the ruffians effected an entrance in front. Then the
work of pillage commenced, and everything carried off that could be,
even to the dresses and trinkets of the children, while heavy furniture
was smashed and chopped up in the blind desire of destruction. Not
satisfied with this, they piled the fragments in the different rooms,
and set fire to them. At this juncture Chief Engineer Decker arrived,
and determined, if possible, to save the building, addressed the crowd,
as he had in the morning, hoping to induce them to forbear further
violence, and let him extinguish the flames. But they had now got beyond
argument of any kind, and knocking him down twice, pitched him into the
street. But ten brave firemen at this juncture rushed to his side, and
together fought their way through the crowd into the building, where
they were joined by two assistant engineers, Lamb and Lewis. They at
once began to scatter and extinguish the burning fragments, keeping back
for a while, by their bold bearing, the rioters. The latter, however,
soon rallied in force, and some mounting to the loft, set it on fire in
every part. Decker and his few gallant allies, finding it impossible
to save the building, retreated into the street, and soon the massive
structure was a sheet of flame.

The crowd now proceeded to Mayor Opdyke's house, and gathering in front
of it, sent up shouts and calls for the Mayor. They were, however,
deterred at that time from accomplishing their purpose by an appeal from
Judge Barnard, who addressed them from the steps of an adjoining house.

Soon after, an immense mob was reported coming down Broadway, for the
purpose, some thought, of attacking the <DW64> waiters in the Lafarge
House, between Amity and Bleecker Streets, but in fact to attack police
head-quarters in Mulberry Street, and break up the very centre of
operations. It was a bold stroke, but the ringleaders had been drinking
all day, and now, maddened by liquor, were ready for the most desperate
attempts. When the news of this movement reached head-quarters, the
commissioners saw that a crisis had come. The mob numbered at least five
thousand, while they could not muster at that moment two hundred men.
The clerk, Mr. Hawley, went to the commissioners' room, and said:
"Gentlemen, the crisis has come. A battle has got to be _fought now_,
_and won too_, or all is lost." They agreed with him. "But who," they
asked, "will lead the comparatively small force in this fight?" He
replied that he thought that Sergeant Carpenter should be selected, as
one of the oldest and most experienced officers on the force. "Well,"
they said, "will you go down to his room and see what he says about it?"
He went, and laid before him the perilous condition of things, and that
an immediate and successful battle _must_ be fought.

Carpenter heard him through, and taking in fully the perilous condition
of things, paused a moment, and then rising to his full height and
lifting his hand, said, with a terrible oath, "I'll go, and I'll win
that fight, or _Daniel Carpenter will never come back a live man_." He
walked out and summoned the little force, and as "Fall in, men; fall
in," was repeated, they fell into line along the street. When all was
ready, Acton turned to Carpenter, every lineament of whose face showed
the stern purpose that mastered him, and quietly said, "_Sergeant make
no arrests_."

It was to be a battle in which no prisoners were to be taken. "All
_right_" replied Carpenter, as he buttoned up his coat and shouted
"Forward." Solid, and silent save their heavy, measured tread on the
pavement, they moved down Bleecker Street towards Broadway. As they
turned into the latter street, only a block and a half away, they saw
the mob, which filled the entire street far as the eye could reach,
moving tumultuously forward. Armed with clubs, pitchforks, iron bars,
and some with guns and pistols, and most of them in their shirt-sleeves
and shouting as they came, they presented a wild and savage appearance.
Pedestrians fled down the side streets, stores were hastily closed,
stages vanished, and they had the street to themselves. A huge board, on
which was inscribed "No Draft," was borne aloft as a banner, and beside
it waved the Stars and Stripes.

The less than two hundred policemen, compact and firm, now halted, while
Carpenter detached two companies of fifty each up the parallel streets
to the right and left, as far as Fourth Street. Coming down this street
from both directions, they were to strike the mob on both flanks at
the same time he charged them in front. He waited till they had reached
their positions, and then shouted, "_By the right flank Company front,
double-quick_, CHARGE." Instantaneously every club was swung in air, and
solid as a wall and swift as a wave they swept full on the astonished
multitude; while at the same time, to cut the monster in two, the
two companies charged in flank. Carpenter, striding several steps in
advance, his face fairly blazing with excitement, dealt the first blow,
stretching on the pavement a powerful ruffian, who was rushing on him
with a huge club. For a few minutes nothing was heard but the heavy
thud of clubs falling on human skulls, thick and fast as hailstones on
windows. The mob, just before so confident and bold, quailed in terror
and would have broke and fled at once, but for the mass behind which
kept bearing down on them. This, however, soon gave way before the
side attacks and the panic that followed. Then the confusion and uproar
became terrible, and the mass surged hither and thither, now rolling up
Broadway, and again borne back or shoved up against the stores, seeking
madly for a way of escape. At length, breaking into fragments, they
rushed down the side streets, hotly pursued by the police, whose
remorseless clubs never ceased to fall as long as a fugitive was within,
reach. Broadway looked like a field of battle, for the pavement was
strewn thick with bleeding, prostrate forms. It was a great victory and
decisive of all future contests.

Having effectually dispersed them, Carpenter, with the captured flag,
marched up to Mayor Opdyke's house, when, finding everything quiet,
he returned to head-quarters. This successful attack of the police was
received with cheers by those spectators who had witnessed it.



CHAPTER XIV.

No Military in the City.--The Mayor calls on General Wool, commanding
Eastern Department, for Help.--Also on General Sandford.--General Wool
sends to General Brown, commanding Garrison in the Harbor, for U. S.
Troops.--Marines of the Navy Yard ordered up.--Eventually, West Point
and several States appealed to for Troops.--General Brown assumes
Command.--Attack of Mob on the _Tribune_ Building.--Its severe
Punishment.--Government Buildings garrisoned.--Difficulty between
Generals Brown and Wool.--Head-quarters.--Police Commissioners' Office
Military Head-quarters.

The terrible punishment the rioters received at the hands of Carpenter
had, however, only checked their movements for a time; and, as the
sun began to hang low in the summer heavens, men looked forward to the
coming night with apprehension.

In the meantime, however, the authorities, conscious of the perilous
condition of the city, had resorted to every means of defence in their
power. Unfortunately, as mentioned before, nearly the whole of its
military force, on which it depended in any great emergency, was absent.
Lee's brilliant flank movement around Hooker and Washington,
terminating in the invasion of Pennsylvania, had filled the country with
consternation. His mighty columns were moving straight on Philadelphia,
and the Government at Washington, roused to the imminent danger, had
called for all the troops within reach, and New York had sent forward
nearly every one of her regiments. Ordinary prudence would have dictated
that the draft should be postponed for a few days, till these regiments,
now on their way back, or preparing to return, should arrive. It was
running a needless risk to urge it in such a crisis--indeed, one of
the follies of which the Administration at this time was so needlessly
guilty.

General Wool, at this juncture, commanded the Eastern Department, with
his head-quarters at the corner of Bleecker and Greene Streets. Mayor
Opdyke immediately called on him for help, and also on Major-general
Sandford, commanding the few troops that were left in the city. The
latter immediately issued an order requesting the Seventh Regiment to
meet that evening, at their drill-rooms, at eight o'clock, to consult on
the measures necessary to be taken in the present unexpected crisis, and
another to the late two-years' volunteers then in the city, to report
at the same hour in Grand Street, to Colonel William H. Allen, for
temporary duty.

General Wool, also, during the afternoon, while the rioters were having
it all their own way, sent an officer to the adjutant-general of General
Brown, commanding the troops in garrison in New York harbor, ordering up
a force of about eighty men immediately.

General Brown, on his way from his office to Fort Hamilton, was informed
by Colonel Stinson, chief clerk, that a serious riot was raging in the
city, and that General Wool had sent to Fort Hamilton for a detachment
of some eighty men, and that a tug had gone for them. Surprised at
the smallness of the number sent (he was, by special orders of the War
Department, commandant of the city, and commander of all the forts and
troops in the harbor except Fort Columbus), he immediately ordered the
company at Fort Wood to the city, and sent a tug for it. He then made
a requisition on the quartermaster for transportation of all the other
companies, and proceeded without delay to Fort Hamilton. General Brown's
office was close to General Wool's; but he did not think proper to
consult him on the movement.

General Brown, immediately on his arrival at Fort Hamilton, directed
that all the troops there, as well as at Forts Lafayette and Richmond,
be got in readiness to move at a moment's notice, and also that a
section of artillery be organized, in case it should be wanted. Having
taken these wise precautions he hastened up to the city, and reported to
General Wool. The result proved the wisdom of his forecast. A new order
was at once dispatched for the remaining troops, and just at twilight,
Lieut. McElrath saw two steamers making directly for the fort. They were
hardly fastened to the dock, when an officer stepped ashore and handed
him an order from General Brown to send up at once all the efficient
troops in the forts, and have their places supplied as best he could
with some volunteer artillery companies.

The reports coming in to police head-quarters had shown that it was no
common uprising of a few disaffected men to be put down by a few squads
of police or a handful of soldiers. The Mayor, after consulting with
the Police Commissioners, felt that it was the beginning of a general
outbreak in every part of the city, and by his representations persuaded
General Wool to apply to Rear-admiral Paulding, commanding the Navy
Yard, for a force of marines, and eventually to Colonel Bowman,
Superintendent of West Point, and also to the authorities of Newark, and
Governors of New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode
Island for troops.

General Brown, after reporting to General Wool, repaired to police
head-quarters, which he adopted as his own, and issued the following
order:

"HEAD-QUARTERS, NEW YORK, July 13, 1863.

"In obedience to the orders of the Major-general commanding the Eastern
Department, the undersigned assumes command of the United States troops
in this city.

"Lieutenant-colonel Frothingham and Captain Revolle are of the staff of
the undersigned, and will be obeyed accordingly.

"HARVEY BROWN,

"_Brevet Brigadier-general_."

He also sent a dispatch to General Sandford, at the arsenal, notifying
him of his action, and requesting him to come down and consult with him
on the course to be pursued. General Sandford, after awhile, did come
down, and, to General Brown's amazement, insisted that all the troops
should be sent up to the arsenal. General Brown, seeing the utter
madness of such a disposition of his force, refused decidedly to permit
it to be done. This was of course denying Sandford's claim to be his
superior officer. It was well for the city that he took this ground.

Mayor Opdyke also issued a proclamation, calling on the rioters to
disperse.

But while these measures were being set on foot, the rioters were not
idle.

[Illustration: THE ATTACK ON THE TRIBUNE BUILDING.]

All day long a crowd had been gathering in the Park around the City
Hall, growing more restless as night came on. The railroad-cars passing
it were searched, to see if any <DW64>s were on board, while eyes
glowered savagely on the _Tribune_ building. They had sought in an
eating-house for the editor, to wreak their vengeance on him. Not
finding him, they determined that the building, from which was issued
the nefarious paper, should come down, but were evidently waiting for
help to arrive before commencing the work of destruction. The mob, which
Carpenter had so terribly punished in Broadway, were marching for it,
designing to burn it after they had demolished police head-quarters.
Their dispersion delayed the attack, and doubtless broke its force, by
the reduction of numbers it caused. There seemed enough, however, if
properly led, to effect their purpose, for the Park and Printing-house
Square were black with men, who, as the darkness increased, grew more
restless; and "Down with it! burn it!" mingled with oaths and curses,
were heard on every side.

At last came the crash of a window, as a stone went through it. Another
and another followed, when suddenly a reinforcing crowd came rushing
down Chatham Street. This was the signal for a general assault, and,
with shouts, the rabble poured into the lower part of the building, and
began to destroy everything within reach. Captain Warlow, of the First
Precinct, No. 29 Broad Street, who, with his command, was in the gallant
fight in Broadway, after some subsequent fighting and marching, had at
length reached his head-quarters in Broad Street, where a despatch
met him, to proceed at once to the _Tribune_ building. He immediately
started off on the double-quick. On reaching the upper end of Nassau
Street, he came to a halt, and gave the club signal on the pavement,
to form column. Captain Thorne, of the City Hall, in the meantime,
had joined his force to him, with the gallant Sergeant Devoursney.
Everything being ready, the order to "Charge" was given, and the entire
force, perhaps a hundred and fifty strong, fell in one solid mass on the
mob, knocking men over right and left, and laying heads open at every
blow. The panic-stricken crowd fled up Chatham Street, across the Park,
and down Spruce and Frankfort Streets, punished terribly at every step.
The space around the building being cleared, a portion of the police
rushed inside, where the work of destruction was going on. The sight
of the blue-coats in their midst, with their uplifted clubs, took the
rioters by surprise, and they rushed frantically for the doors and
windows, and escaped the best way they could. In the meantime, those
who had taken refuge in the Park found themselves in the lion's jaws.
Carpenter had hardly rested from his march up Fifth Avenue to Mayor
Opdyke's house, when he, too, received orders to hasten to the
protection of the _Tribune_ building. Taking one hundred of his own men,
and one hundred under Inspector Folk, of Brooklyn, who had been early
ordered over, and been doing good service in the city, he marched down
Broadway, and was just entering the Park, when the frightened crowd came
rushing pell-mell across it. Immediately forming "company front," he
swept the Park like a storm, clearing everything before him. Order being
restored, Folk returned with his force to Brooklyn, where things began
to wear a threatening aspect, and Carpenter took up his station at City
Hall for the night.

This ended the heavy fighting of the day, though minor disturbances
occurred at various points during the evening. <DW64>s had been hunted
down all day, as though they were so many wild beasts, and one, after
dark, was caught, and after being severely beaten and hanged to a tree,
left suspended there till Acton sent a force to take the body down. Many
had sought refuge in police-stations and elsewhere, and all were filled
with terror.

The demonstrations in the lower part of the city excited the greatest
anxiety about the Government buildings in that section--the Custom House
and Sub-treasury were tempting prizes to the rioters. General Sandford,
commanding the city military, had sent such force as he could collect
early in the day to the arsenal, to defend it; for, should the mob once
get possession of the arms and ammunition stored there, no one could
tell what the end would be. United States troops also were placed in
Government buildings to protect them. Almost the last act of the
mob this evening was the burning of Postmaster Wakeman's house, in
Eighty-sixth Street. Mrs. Wakeman was noted for her kindness to the poor
and wretched, who now repaid her by sacking and burning her house. The
precinct station near by was also destroyed.

In the meanwhile, an event happened which threatened to disarrange all
the plans that had been laid. Military etiquette often overrides the
public good, and here, at this critical moment, General Wool chose to
consider that, as General Sandford was Major-general, though not in the
United States service, he, therefore, ranked Brigadier-general Brown
of the regular army, and required him to act under the other's orders.
This, Brown promptly refused to do, and asked to be relieved, telling
General Wool that such a proceeding was an unheard-of thing. That he was
right the order below will show [Footnote: [GENERAL ORDER No. 36.] WAR
DEPARTMENT,

_Adjutant-general's Office, Washington_, April 7th, 1863.

6. The military commander's duties in reference to all troops and
enlisted men who happen to serve within the limits of his command will
be _precisely those of a commanding officer of a military post_.

The duties of military commanders above defined, will devolve in the
_City of New York, and the military posts in that vicinity_, on Brevet
Brigadier-general H. Brown, Colonel Fifth U. S. Artillery.

By order of the Secretary of War, (Signed) L. THOMAS,
_Adjutant-general_.] that his troops must be under his own command, as
he was responsible for their action to the Government, and Sandford was
not. Wool, however, continued obstinate, and a total disruption seemed
inevitable. Mayor Opdyke, President Acton, Governor Seymour, with
several prominent American citizens, were present, and witnessed
this disagreement with painful feelings. They knew that it would work
mischief, if not paralyze the combined action they hoped to put forth
in the morning. General Brown, finding Wool inflexible, turned away,
determined to retire altogether. The Mayor and others followed him, and
begged him not to abandon them in the desperate strait they were in--to
think of nothing but saving the city. General Brown had been too hasty,
sticking on a point of mere etiquette, with, perhaps, too much tenacity.
True, an officer must insist on his rank as a rule, but there
are emergencies when everything of a personal nature must be
forgotten--crises where it may be an officer's duty to serve in any
capacity, however subordinate, and trust to being righted afterwards.
Luckily, General Brown, on a sober second thought, took the proper view,
and returned to General Wool, and asked to be reinstated in his command,
but giving him to understand that, though he would co-operate in every
possible way with General Sandford, he still must retain distinct and
separate command of his own troops. This was right, and whether General
Wool perfectly understood the arrangement, or seeing how deeply the
gentlemen present felt on the subject, chose not to press a mere point
of etiquette, does not appear. We only know that if General Brown had
given up the command of his troops, the results to the city would have
been disastrous.

While these events were passing in the St. Nicholas Hotel, the streets
were comparatively quiet. It had been a hard day for the rioters, as
well as for the police, and they were glad of a little rest. Besides,
they had become more or less scattered by a terrific thunderstorm that
broke over the city, deluging the streets with water. In the midst of
it, there came a telegraphic dispatch to the commissioners, calling
for assistance. The tired police were stretched around on the floor or
boxes, seeking a little rest, when they were aroused, and summoned to
fall in; and the next moment they plunged into the darkness and rain.
They were drenched to the skin before they had gone a block, but they
did not heed it--and then, as to the end, and under all circumstances,
answered promptly and nobly to every call.

Acton had now gathered a large force at head-quarters, and felt ready to
strike at any moment.

While the men flung themselves on the hard floor, like soldiers on
the field of battle, ready to start on duty at the first call, Acting
Superintendent Acton and his assistants never closed their eyes, but
spent the night in telegraphing, organizing, and preparing for the
fiercer fights of next day. Much was to be done to cover and protect
a district that reached from Brooklyn to Westchester, and it was an
anxious night. They had one consolation, however: though taken unawares,
they had at the close of the day come out victors, which gave them
confidence in the future, especially as now Brown and his trained
soldiers were with them.

Some fifteen or twenty policemen had been more or less severely injured,
while the number of the killed and wounded of the mob was wholly
unknown. Both the dead and maimed were left by the police where they
fell, and were almost immediately hurried away by their friends.

The destruction of property on this first day, consisted of four
buildings on Third Avenue burned, also a block on Broadway between
Twenty-eighth and Twenty-ninth Streets; two brown-stone dwellings in
Lexington Avenue; Allerton's Hotel near Bull's Head; a cottage, corner
of Forty-fifth Street and Fifth Avenue; the  Orphan Asylum, and
the armory corner of Twenty-first Street and Second Avenue.



CHAPTER XV.

Telegraph Bureau.--Its Work.--Skill and Daring and Success of its
Force.--Interesting Incidents.--Hairbreadth Escapes.--Detective
Force.--Its arduous Labors.--Its Disguises.--Shrewdness, Tact, and
Courage.--Narrow Escapes.--Hawley, the Chief Clerk.--His exhausting
Labors.

One thing Commissioners Acton and Bergen in their consultation settled
must be done at all hazards--telegraphic communication must be kept
open with the different precincts. Otherwise it would be impossible
to concentrate men at any given point, quick enough to arrest the mob
before they spread devastation and conflagration far and wide. Every
hour gained by a mob in accumulating or organizing its forces, increases
the difficulty of dispersing it. The rioters understood this partially,
and had acted accordingly; but the rich spoils they had come across
during the day, had driven, for the time being, all other thoughts
but plunder out of their heads. Some communications had already been
destroyed, and the rioters would evidently by morning have their eyes
open to the importance of doing this everywhere, and their efforts
must be foiled, no matter what the risk or sacrifice might be. They had
already cut down over sixty poles, and rendered upwards of twelve miles
of wire useless; and how much more would share the same fate the next
day, no one could tell.

The superintendent and deputy of the Telegraph Bureau, Messrs. Crowley
and Polhamus, with the operators mentioned before, were, therefore, set
at work this very evening in the storm, to restore the broken lines.

This was a perilous undertaking, for if once discovered, their lives
would be instantly sacrificed.

The details of their operations, their disguises, ingenious
contrivances, deceptions, and boldness in carrying out their object,
would make an attractive chapter in itself. Often compelled to mingle
with the mob, always obliged to conceal what they were about, not daring
to raise a pole or handle a wire unless cautiously or secretly, they
yet restored the lines in the north section by morning, and those in
the south by Wednesday evening. Sometimes they were compelled to carry
a wire over the top of a house, sometimes round it, through a back-yard;
in short, every device and expedient was resorted to by these daring,
sharp-witted men. Once Polhamus had his boots burned off in tramping
through the burning ruins of a building after the wires. Once he and Mr.
Crowley came near being clubbed to death by the police, who mistook them
for rioters, so ingeniously and like them were they at work among the
ruins. Captain Brower rescued them, or their services might have ended
on the spot.

This work was kept steadily up during the continuation of the riots. On
one occasion, Mr. Crowley, hearing that the wires were down in the Ninth
and Tenth Avenues, hastened thither alone, when he encountered a large
mob. Fearing to pass through it he hesitated a moment, when he noticed
a carriage driving in the direction he wished to go, in which was a
Catholic priest. He immediately hailed it and was taken in. As the
carriage entered the mob, the latter surrounded it, and supposing the
inmates were reporters, began to yell "Down with the d--d reporters;"
but the moment they recognized the priest, they allowed it to pass.
Often the two would take a hack; and passing themselves off as drivers,
go through infected districts, and search points to which they otherwise
could not have gone. One time they were returning from an expedition
through Third Avenue, and had reached Houston Street, when they were
hailed by a gang of rioters, who demanded to be taken downtown. They had
to comply, for the men were armed with pistols, and so took them in
and kept along Houston Street, under the pretence of going down through
Broadway, knowing that when they reached Mulberry Street they would
be in hailing distance of the head-quarters of the police. It was just
after daybreak, and Crowley and Polhamus urged on the horses, expecting
in a few minutes to have their load safely locked up. The fellows
evidently not liking the vicinity to which the drivers were taking them,
ordered them to wheel about, which they were compelled to do, and drive
under their direction to an old house in the Tenth Ward. There they got
out, and offering the drivers a drink and fifty cents, let them go. On
one occasion, Crowley, while examining the wires in Second Avenue, was
suspected by the mob, who fell upon him, and it was only by the greatest
coolness and adroitness he convinced them he was a rioter himself, and
so escaped. At another time they were going along in a common wagon,
when they were hemmed in by a crowd, and escaped by passing themselves
off as farmers from Westchester. Had they been discovered, they would
have been killed on the spot.

DETECTIVE FORCE.

The duties of this force are well known, but during the riots they had
something more important to do than to work up individual cases. The
force, with John Young as chief, and M. B. Morse as clerk, consisted
in all of seventeen persons. These men are selected for their superior
intelligence, shrewdness, sagacity, and undoubted courage. Full of
resources, they must also be cool, collected, and fearless. During the
riots they were kept at work day and night, obtaining knowledge of facts
that no others could get, and thus supplying the different precincts
and head-quarters with invaluable information. Their duty was a most
perilous one, for it called them to go into the very heart of the
turbulent districts; nay, into the very midst of the mob, where
detection would have been followed by death, and that of the
most horrible kind. Chief Young, with his clerk, was engaged at
head-quarters, so that fifteen men had to perform the required work for
the whole city. Sometimes alone, sometimes two or three together, they
seemed omnipresent. In all sorts of disguises, feigning all sorts of
employments and characters, sometimes on horseback and again driving an
old cart or a hack, they pressed with the most imperturbable effrontery
into the very vortex of danger. Ever on the watch, and accustomed to
notice every expression of the countenance, they would discover at a
single glance when they were suspected, and remove the suspicion at once
by some clever device. Sometimes one of them, seeing himself watched,
would quietly ascend the steps of a residence, and ringing the bell,
make some inquiry as though he were on business, and then deliberately
walk off; or if he thought it would not do to have his face too
closely scanned, he would step inside and wait till the crowd moved on.
Sometimes, with a stone or club in their hands, they would shout
with the loudest, and engaging in conversation with the ringleaders
themselves, ascertain their next move; then quietly slip away to the
nearest station, and telegraph to head-quarters the information. When
the telegraph had been cut off, they had to take the place of the
wires, and carry through the very heart of the crowd their news to the
department.

On their ears again and again would ring the fearful cry, "There
goes Kennedy's spies;" and it required the most consummate acting and
self-possession to allay the suspicion. Often on a single word or act
hinged their very lives. Some of these men were in the mob that made the
first attack on Mayor Opdyke's house, and while apparently acting with
it, learned of the intended movement down to police head-quarters, and
at once telegraphed the fact, which enabled Carpenter to prepare for
them, and give them the terrible beating we have described. At the
burning and sacking of different buildings they were present, and often
would follow unnoticed the ringleaders for hours, tracking them with the
tireless tenacity of a sleuth hound, until they got them separate from
the crowd, and then pounce suddenly upon them, and run them into the
nearest station. The lawlessness that prevailed not only let loose all
the thieves and burglars of the city, but attracted those from other
places, who practised their vocation with impunity. To lessen this
evil, the detectives one night quietly made visits to some half a dozen
"lushing cribs," as they are called, in Eighth and Fourteenth Streets,
and seized about thirty noted thieves, burglars, and garroters, and
locked them up for safe-keeping. They also warned the <DW64>s of
threatened danger, and directed them, to places of safety; and in case
of emergency acted as guides to the military in their operations. In
short, they were ubiquitous, indefatigable, and of immense service. They
played the part of unerring pointers to the commissioners, telling them
when and where to strike; yet strange to say, such was their skill,
their ingenuity, and exhaustless resources, that they all escaped being
assaulted, save one named Slowly. He was passing through the very
heart of the riotous district, in Second Avenue, when some one who had
evidently been once in his clutches, recognized him, and pointing him
out, shouted "Detective!" Instantly a rush was made for him, and he was
knocked down, and kicked and stamped upon. Regaining, with a desperate
effort, his feet, he sprang up the steps of a house, and fought his
assailants fiercely, till the lady of the house, seeing his perilous
situation, courageously opened the door and let him in, and then bolted
and barred it in the face of the mob. Through some strange apprehension,
the baffled wretches, though they howled, and swore, and threatened, did
not force an entrance, and he escaped.

In this connection, while speaking of those whose duties were uniform
and running through the whole period of the riots, might be mentioned
Seth C. Hawley, the chief clerk. Like Acton, he has a nervous, wiry
temperament. This often makes a man rash and headlong, and hence not
reliable; but when combined, as in him, with perfect self-possession
and self-control, imparts enormous power. It matters not how nervous and
excitable a man is, if danger and responsibility instead of confusing
and unsettling him, only winds him up to a higher tension, till he
becomes like a tightly-drawn steel spring. Excitement then not only
steadies him, but it quickens his perceptions, clears his judgment,
gives rapidity to his decisions, and terrible force to his blow. Mr.
Hawley's duties were of a various and exhausting kind, so that during
all the riots, he allowed himself only one hours' rest out of every
twenty-four. Besides his ordinary supervisory duties over the clerks,
etc., he had to see to the execution of the almost incessant orders
of the commissioners, provide and issue arms, see to the refugees and
prisoners, and act as commissary to over four thousand men on duty in
and around head-quarters. Two men more perfectly fitted to work together
in such a crisis as this, than he and Acton, could not well be found.



CHAPTER XVI.


SECOND DAY.

Appearance of the City.--Assembling of the Mob.--Fight between Rioters
and the Police and Soldiers.--Storming of Houses.--Rioters hurled
from the Roofs.--Soldiers fire on the People.--Awful Death of
Colonel O'Brien.--Fight in Pitt Street.--Deadly Conflict for a Wire
Factory.--Horrible Impaling of a Mart on an Iron Picket.--Mystery
attached to Him.--Second Attack on Mayor Opdyke's House.--Second
Fight for the Wire Factory.--Telegraphic Dispatches.--Citizens
Volunteering.--Raid on the <DW64>s.--They are hunted to Death.--Savage
Spectacle.--<DW64>s seek Head-quarters of Police.--Appearance and State
of the City.--Colonel Nugent's House sacked.--Fight with the Mob in
Third Avenue.--Battle at Gibbon's House.--Policeman Shot.--Night
Attack on Brooks and Brothers' Clothing Store.--Value of the Telegraph
System.--Captain Petty.--Seymour's Speech to the Mob.--Cars and Stages
seized.--Barricades.--Other Fights.--Acton and his Labors.

The early July morning broke tranquilly over the great city, and the
rattling of vehicles was heard in some of the streets, where men were
going to their places of business. In a large portion of it everything
wore its usual air of tranquillity, yet a close observer would notice an
uneasiness resting on the countenances of men. Furtive glances were
cast down side streets, and people seemed on the watch, as though in
expectation of something to come, and the very atmosphere appeared laden
with evil omens. Around police head-quarters, and inside the building,
were large bodies of policemen and the U. S. troops under General Brown.
But uptown, in the vicinity of Thirteenth Street and Second and Third
Avenues, crowds of men began early to assemble, though perfectly quiet
in their demeanor, while smaller knots in the adjoining wards could be
seen discussing the events of the day before. In the meantime, exciting
reports came from Harlem and Yorkville--as early as five o'clock, the
following telegram was sent to the Twentieth Precinct: "Notify General
Sandford to go immediately to Eighty-sixth Street and Harlem--mob
burning." Indeed the air was charged with electricity, but the
commissioners now felt ready to meet the storm whenever and wherever
it should burst. A large force of special policemen had been sworn in,
while General Brown had over seven hundred troops, ready to co-operate
with the police. The public buildings were all well guarded--Sandford
had a strong force in the arsenal, and the military and civil
authorities stood waiting the next movement of the mob. Telegrams
arriving, showed that the northern part of the city was alive with
gathering crowds, while from Sixth Avenue on the west nearly to Second
Avenue in the east, and down almost to Broome Street, the streets were
black with excited men. Stores were closed, factories emptied of their
hands, who voluntarily joined the rioters, or were forced into their
ranks, and there was evidently a gathering of the elements in those
directions for a fearful storm. Soon immense crowds began to patrol the
streets in different wards, showing that simultaneous action would be
required at various points. The troops were called out and marshalled in
Mulberry Street, and those companies selected for immediate action drawn
up in line. Colonel Frothingham, after an earnest conversation with the
officers, addressed the soldiers. He told them that the fate of the
city was in their hands, and everything depended on their good conduct.
Knowing the temptations to disorderly conduct in the midst of the great
city, he urged on them especially to obey implicitly their officers
under all circumstances. His manner and words were earnest, and listened
to with profound attention. Soon a company headed by Sergeant Carpenter,
with a police force two hundred and fifty strong, started for Second and
Third Avenues, where the greatest gatherings were reported to be.

At this time the rioters seemed hesitating about their course of action.
There was apparently no recognized leader, no common understanding and
purpose, though all were engaged in animated discussions of some topic.
Dirty, ferocious-looking women were scattered through the crowd; some of
the men were armed, while all looked defiant and determined.

There were doubtless many who had come from mere curiosity, and a few
attempted to allay the excitement, among them a Catholic priest, who
harangued them, urging them to maintain peace. His address seemed to
have considerable influence on those immediately around him; but as soon
as he left, his words were forgotten, and the mighty throng, estimated
by some at ten thousand, began to be agitated by passion. What would
have been the first act of violence, it is impossible to say, had they
been left undisturbed. But at the cry of "the police and soldiers are
coming," everything else was forgotten.

Inspector Carpenter, coming down Twenty-first Street, struck Second
Avenue, and wheeling, moved in solid column through the crowd up to
Thirty-second Street. The force was assailed with hoots and yells, and
all kinds of opprobrious epithets, but no violence was shown, until it
had crossed Thirty-second Street. The mob not only filled the street,
but numbers, with piles of stones and brick-bats, had climbed to the
roofs of the houses. These deeming themselves secure, suddenly, with one
accord, rained their missiles on the rear of the column.

The men fell rapidly, and two were dangerously hurt. Carpenter
immediately halted his command, and ordered fifty men to enter the
houses, and mounting to the roof, clear them of the assailants.
Barricaded doors were at once broken in, and every one that opposed
their progress clubbed without mercy, as they made their way to the
upper floors. Captain Mount of the Eleventh Precinct, led this storming
party. Officers Watson and Cole distinguished themselves by being the
first on the roof, fighting their way through a narrow scuttle. As
the police, one by one, stepped on to the roof, they rushed on the
desperadoes with their clubs, and felled them rapidly. Those who
attempted to escape through the scuttles were met by the police in the
rooms below; or if one chanced to reach the street, he was knocked down
by those keeping guard there. Some dropped from second and third story
windows, and met with a worse fate than those who staid behind. One huge
fellow received such a tremendous blow, that he was knocked off his feet
and over the edge of the roof, and fell headlong down a height of four
stories to the pavement beneath. Crushed to death by the force of the
fall, he lay a mangled heap at the feet of his companions.

The fight was sharp and fierce, and kept up for nearly an hour, and
bodies scattered around showed with what deadly force the club had been
wielded. But with the clearing of the houses there came a lull in the
conflict, and the immense crowd looked on in sullen silence, as the
police reformed in the street, and recommenced their march. The military
force that had accompanied the police, had formed on the avenue, about
a block and a half above where the latter were stationed, while the
detachment was clearing the houses. Two howitzers were placed in
position commanding the avenue. Colonel O'Brien, of the Eleventh New
York Volunteers, who was raising a regiment for the war, had gathered
together, apparently on his own responsibility, about fifty men, and
appearing on the field, from his superior rank, assumed command. For a
short time the rioters remained quiet, but as the police marched away,
they suddenly awoke out of their apparent indifference. Maddened at the
sight of the mangled bodies of their friends stretched on the pavement,
and enraged at their defeat by the police, they now turned on the
soldiers, and began to pelt them with stones and brick-bats. O'Brien
rode up and down the centre of the street a few times, evidently
thinking his fearless bearing would awe the mob. But they only jeered
him, and finding the attack growing hotter and more determined, he
finally gave the order to fire. The howitzers belched forth on the
crowd, the soldiers levelled their pieces, and the whistling of
minie-balls was heard on every side. Men and women, reeled and fell on
the sidewalk and in the street. One woman, with her child in her arms,
fell, pierced with a bullet. The utmost consternation followed. The
crowd knew from sad experience that the police would use their clubs,
but they seemed to think it hardly possible that the troops would
fire point-blank into their midst. But the deadly effect of the fire
convinced them of their error, and they began to jostle and crowd each
other in the effort to get out of its range. In a few minutes the avenue
was cleared of the living, when the wounded and dead were cared for by
their friends. Order had been restored, and O'Brien, with some twenty
or thirty men, marched down to police head-quarters, and offered his
services to Genera Brown. Colonel Frothingham thanked him, but soon saw
that the Colonel was not in a fit state to have command of troops, and
so reported to General Brown. O'Brien appeared to comprehend the state
of things, and asked to be excused on the plea of sickness. He was
excused, and rode away. Whether he disbanded his handful of men, or they
disbanded themselves, was not stated, but _he_ was soon back again at
the scene of the riot. His residence was close by, but had been deserted
that morning by the family, which had fled in alarm to Brooklyn.
Scowling visages lowered on the colonel, as he rode slowly back among
the crowd, and low muttered threats were heard. Although an Irishman,
and well-known in that neighborhood, his sympathy with the Government
had awakened more or less hostile feeling against him, which his conduct
to-day kindled into deadly hate. Apparently unconscious or reckless of
this, he dismounted, and entered a neighboring drug-store or saloon.
After remaining a few moments he came out, and paused as he beheld the
crowd that had assembled around the door. There was little said, but
dark and angry countenances were bent on him from every side, and he saw
that mischief was intended. Drawing his sword, and taking a revolver in
the other hand, he deliberately walked out into the street. He had taken
but a few steps, when a powerful blow on the back of his head made him
stagger forward. In an instant a rush was made for him, and blows
were rained so fast and fierce upon him, that he was unable to defend
himself. Knocked down and terribly mangled, he was dragged with savage
brutality over the rough pavement, and swung from side to side like a
billet of wood, till the large, powerful body was a mass of gore, and
the face beaten to a pumice. The helpless but still animate form would
then be left awhile in the street, while the crowd, as it swayed to and
fro, gazed on it with cool indifference or curses. At length a Catholic
priest, who had either been sent for, or came along to offer his
services wherever they might be needed, approached the dying man and
read the service of the Catholic Church over him, the crowd in the
meantime remaining silent. After he had finished, he told them to
leave the poor man alone, as he was fast sinking. But as soon as he had
disappeared, determined to make sure work with their victim, they again
began to pound and trample on the body. In the intervals of the attack,
the still living man would feebly lift his head, or roll it from side to
side on the stones, or heave a faint groan.

The whole afternoon was spent in this fiendish work, and no attempt was
made to rescue him. Towards sundown the body was dragged into his own
back-yard, his regimentals all torn from him, except his pantaloons,
leaving the naked body, from the waist up, a mass of mangled flesh
clotted with blood.

But the dying man could not be left alone in his own yard. A crowd
followed him thither, among which were women, who committed the most
atrocious violence on the body, until at last, with one convulsive
movement of the head, and a deep groan, the strong man yielded up his
life.

While this tragedy was being enacted here, similar scenes were occurring
all over the city. Mobs were everywhere, the spirit of pandemonium was
abroad, and havoc and revenge let loose.

Lieutenant Wood, whom General Brown had sent off, with a company of
regulars, came in conflict with a mob, two thousand strong, in Pitt and
Delancey Streets. Marching along Houston to the Bowery, he turned down
the latter, and kept on to Grand. On reaching Pitt Street, he beheld
the hooting, yelling crowd coming straight towards him. He immediately
formed his little force of one hundred and fifty men in line across
the street, and brought them to "shoulder arms." One of the ringleaders
stepped forward to speak to him, when Lieutenant Wood waved him off.
This was the signal for the attack, and immediately a shower of stones
fell among the soldiers. The officer ordered the men to fire--it was
said over the heads of the rioters--in order to disperse them. The
result was scattering shots in return from the latter. Wood then ordered
a point-blank volley, when men tumbled over right and left. The crowd
did not wait for a second, but fled in every direction. Wood then
marched back to headquarters, but on the way slipped and sprained his
ankle, which caused a report that he had been wounded.

A bloody conflict also took place between the police and mob in the same
avenue where Colonel O'Brien fell, below Thirtieth Street. There was a
wire factory here, in which several thousand carbines were stored.
Of this, some of the rioters were aware, and communicated the fact to
others, and a plan was formed to capture them. Having discovered from
the morning's experience that the military had been called in to aid
the police, arms became imperatively necessary, if they hoped to make
a successful resistance. All public depositories of arms they knew were
guarded, but this factory was not, and hence they resolved to capture it
without delay. Swarming around it, they forced the entrance, and began
to throw out the carbines to their friends. The attack, however, had
been telegraphed to head-quarters, and Inspector Dilks was despatched
with two hundred men to save the building, and recover any arms that
might be captured. He marched rapidly up to Twenty-first Street, and
down it to the avenue. Here he came suddenly upon the mob, that blocked
the entire street. As the head of the force appeared, the rioters,
instead of being frightened, greeted it with jeers and curses. It was
two hundred against a thousand; but the inspector did not hesitate a
moment on account of the inequality of numbers, but instantly formed
his men and ordered a charge. The mob, instead of recoiling, closed
desperately on the police, and a fierce hand-to-hand encounter took
place. The clubs, however, mowed a clean swath along the street, and the
compact little force pushed like a wedge into the throng, and cleared a
bloody space for itself. The orders were to recapture all the arms; for
this was of more vital importance than the capture of men. Wherever,
therefore, a musket was seen, a man would dash for it, and, seizing it,
fight his way back into line. On the pavement, the sidewalk, and in the
gutters, men lay bleeding and dying, until at last, the more resolute
having been knocked on the head, the vast crowd, like a herd of buffalo,
broke and tore madly down the street. One of the leaders was a man
of desperate courage, and led on the mob with reckless fury, though
bleeding freely from the terrible punishment he received. As his
comrades turned to flee, leaving him alone, a fearful blow sent him
reeling and staggering towards the sidewalk. As he reached it, he fell
heavily over against the iron railing, and his chin striking one of the
iron pickets, the sharp point entered it and penetrated through to the
roof of his mouth. No one noticed him, or if they did, paid no attention
to him in the headlong flight on the one hand, and swift pursuit on the
other. Thus horridly impaled, his body hanging down along the sidewalk,
the wretched man was left to die. At length Captain Hedden noticed him,
and lifting up the corpse, laid it down on the sidewalk. It was found,
to the surprise of all, to be that of a young man of delicate features
and white, fair skin. "Although dressed as a laborer, in dirty overalls
and filthy shirt, underneath these were fine cassimere pants, handsome,
rich vest, and fine linen shirt." [Footnote: D.M. Barnes.] He was
evidently a man in position far above the rough villains he led on, but
had disguised himself so, as not to be known. He never was known. The
corpse, during the fight that followed, disappeared with the bodies of
many others.

The street being cleared, Dilks turned his attention to the factory,
which was filled with armed rioters, who were determined to defend it
to the last. Detaching a portion of his force, he ordered it to take the
building by storm. Dashing over all obstacles, the men won the stairway
step by step, and entering the main room on the second story, felled a
man at almost every blow. Those who succeeded in escaping down-stairs
were knocked on the head by the force in the street, and soon no rioters
were left but the dead and dying. How many fell in this fight it is
impossible to tell; but one physician alone dressed the wounds of
twenty-one desperately wounded men. Taking what guns they could find and
had captured in the street, the force marched triumphantly back, cheered
on their way by the spectators.

In the meantime, Mayor Opdyke's house in Fifth Avenue had again been
attacked and partially sacked. Captain Maniere, one of the provost
marshals, however, assembled a small force, and drove out the rioters,
who were mostly young men and boys, before the work of destruction was
complete. The news of this attack had been telegraphed to head-quarters
of the police, and Captain Helme, of the Twenty-seventh Precinct,
despatched to its defence. At his approach the rioters dispersed.
Soon after, he was ordered with his command over to the Second Avenue,
accompanied by a detachment of troops under Captain Franklin. This was
in the afternoon--the mob had reassembled, and reinforced by those who
had been dispersed at Thirty-fourth Street, where Colonel O'Brien fell,
had overcome the small body of police at the wire factory, and again
taken possession of it. They had found some boxes of guns that had been
overlooked by Dilks, and having armed themselves, determined to hold
it. Even women joined in the defence. As the force approached, it was
greeted with shouts of defiance and missiles of every kind. An immense
crowd was gathered outside, while the windows of the five-story building
were filled with angry, excited faces, and arms wildly gesticulating.
Charging on this dense mass, and clubbing their way to the building, the
police entered it, and streaming up the stairways, cleared it floor by
floor, some being knocked senseless, others leaping from windows, to be
killed by the fall, and others escaping down-stairs, to be met by the
force in the street. A thorough search was now made for arms, and the
building emptied of them. Taking possession of these, the police and
military took up their line of march for head-quarters. They had not
proceeded far, however, before the mob that had scattered in every
direction began to pour back again into the avenue, and close on the
military that were bringing up the rear. Following them with hoots and
yells that were unheeded, they became emboldened, and pressing nearer,
began to hurl stones and bricks, and everything they could lay their
hands on, against the soldiers. The latter bore it for awhile patiently;
but this only made the wretches more fierce and daring. Seeing there
was but one way to end this, Captain Franklin ordered his men to "About
face;" and "ready, aim, fire," fell in quick succession. The yelling,
shouting crowd were in point-blank range, and the volley told with
deadly effect. The street was strewed with dead and dying, while the
living fled down the avenue.

In the meantime, mobs had sprung up in every part of the city; some
larger and some smaller; some after <DW64>s, others firing buildings or
sacking them.

Some idea of the pressure on the Police Commissioners during this
forenoon, and the condition the city was in, may be gathered from the
following despatches, which are only a small portion of those received
and answered in two hours:

10.20. From Thirteenth. Send military here immediately.

10.22. To Seventh. Find military and send them to Thirteenth Street
forthwith.

10.45. From Sixteenth. A mob has just attacked Jones' soap factory;
stores all closed.

10.50. To Twenty-sixth. Tell Inspector Leonard to send one hundred men
here forthwith.

10.55. To Twentieth. From General Brown. Send to arsenal and say a heavy
battle is going on. Captain Wilkins and company of regulars will report
to me here at once.

11.18. From Sixteenth. Mob is coming down to station-house; we have no
men.

11.20. From Eighteenth. The mob is very wild, corner Twenty-second
Street and Second Avenue. They have attacked the Union steam factory.

11.35. To Twenty-sixth. Send another one hundred men here forthwith.

11.35. From Twentieth. Send one hundred men to disperse mob assailing
Mayor Opdyke's house.

11.38. To Twenty-first. Can you send a few men here?

11.40. From Twenty-second. The mob has gone to Mr. Higgins' factory,
foot of Forty-third Street, to burn it.

11.45. From Eighteenth. What shall we do? The mob is about 4,500 strong.

_Answer_. Clear them down, if you can.

11.50. From Eighteenth. We must leave; the mob is here with guns.

11.50. From Twentieth. Mob tearing up track on Eleventh Avenue.

11.58. The mob have just sacked a large gun-store in Grand Street, and
are armed, and are on the way to attack us.

12.10. To Fifteenth. Send your men here forthwith.

12.35. From Twentieth. Send two hundred men forthwith to Thirty-fifth
Street arsenal.

12.36. From Twenty-first. The mob have just broken open a gun-store on
Third Avenue, between Thirty-sixth and Thirty-seventh Streets, and are
arming.

12.40. From Twenty-first. Send help--the crowd is desperate.

And so on.

Between these rapid telegrams asking for help, were others making and
answering inquiries. And so it was kept up from daylight till midnight
for three days in succession. These urgent calls for help coming from
every quarter at the same time, would have thrown into inextricable
confusion a less clear head than Acton's. It was a terrible strain on
him, and had it continued a little longer, would have cost him his life.
In the midst of it all he received anonymous letters, telling him he had
but one more day to live.

But while the police head-quarters were thus crowded with business, and
the commissioners were straining every nerve to meet the frightful state
of things in the city, other means were being taken to add to their
efficiency.

Governor Seymour had reached the city, and after being closeted with
Mayor Opdyke, had issued a proclamation, calling on the rioters to
disperse, and saying that they would be put down at all hazards.

At a meeting of the merchants and bankers in Wall Street, it was
resolved to close up business, and form volunteer companies of a hundred
men each, to serve under the military. General Wetmore was one of the
first to offer his services. The high-spirited citizen, William E.
Dodge, was among the most prominent advocates of the measure, and soon
found himself a captain under orders. The steamboat of the harbor police
was busy in bringing troops and cannon from Riker's and Governor's
Island, and rapidly steaming from point to point on the river, to
prevent destruction around the docks. Around the arsenal cannon were
placed. At the city armory, corner of White and Elm Streets, were a
company of the Eighty-fourth New York Militia, and some of the Zouaves
and other troops. The Sub-treasury and Custom House were defended by the
Tenth National Zouaves and a hundred and fifty armed citizens. In front
of the Government stores in Worth and White streets, the Invalid Corps
and a company of marines patrolled, while howitzers loaded with grape
and canister, stood on the corner of the street. Nearly four hundred
citizens had been sworn in at police head-quarters as special policemen,
and had been furnished with clubs and badges. All this time the fight
was going on in every direction, while the fire-bells continually
ringing increased the terror that every hour became more wide-spread.
Especially was this true of the <DW64> population. From the outset, they
had felt they were to be objects of vengeance, and all day Monday and
to-day those who could leave, fled into the country. They crowded the
ferry-boats in every direction, fleeing for life. But old men and women,
and poor families, were compelled to stay behind, and meet the fury of
the mob, and to-day it became a regular hunt for them. A sight of one in
the streets would call forth a halloo, as when, a fox breaks cover, and
away would dash a half a dozen men in pursuit. Sometimes a whole crowd
streamed after with shouts and curses, that struck deadly terror to the
heart of the fugitive. If overtaken, he was pounded to death at once;
if he escaped into a <DW64> house for safety, it was set on fire, and
the inmates made to share a common fate. Deeds were done and sights
witnessed that one would not have dreamed of, except among savage
tribes.

At one time there lay at the corner of Twenty seventh-Street and Seventh
Avenue the dead body of a <DW64>, stripped nearly naked, and around it
a collection of Irishmen, absolutely dancing or shouting like wild
Indians. Sullivan and Roosevelt Streets are great <DW64> quarters,
and here a <DW64> was afraid to be seen in the street. If in want of
something from a grocery, he would carefully open the door, and look
up and down to see if any one was watching, and then steal cautiously
forth, and hurry home on his errand. Two boarding-houses here were
surrounded by a mob, but the lodgers, seeing the coming storm, fled. The
desperadoes, finding only the owner left behind, wreaked their vengeance
on him, and after beating him unmercifully, broke up the furniture,
and then fired the buildings. A German store near by, because it was
patronized extensively by <DW64>s, shared the same fate, after its
contents had been distributed among themselves. A <DW64> barber's shop
was next attacked, and the torch applied to it. A <DW64> lodging-house in
the same street next received the visit of these furies, and was soon
a mass of ruins. Old men, seventy years of age, and young children, too
young to comprehend what it all meant, were cruelly beaten and killed.
The spirit of hell seemed to have entered the hearts of these men, and
helpless womanhood was no protection against their rage. Sometimes a
stalwart <DW64> would break away from his murderers, and run for his
life. With no place of safety to which he could flee, he would be headed
off in every direction, and forced towards the river. Driven at last to
the end of a pier, he would leap off, preferring to take his chances in
the water rather than among these bloody men. If bruised and beaten in
his desperate struggle for life, he would soon sink exhausted with his
efforts. Sometimes he would strike out for a ship, but more often dive
under the piers, and hold on to a timber for safety, until his yelling
pursuers had disappeared, when he would crawl stealthily out, and with
terrified face peer in every direction to see if they had gone. Two were
thus run off together into the East River. It was a strange spectacle to
see a hundred Irishmen pour along the streets after a poor <DW64>. If
he could reach a police station he felt safe; but, alas! if the force
happened to be away on duty, he could not stay even there. Whenever
the police could strike the track of the mad hunt, they stopped it
summarily, and the pursuers became the pursued, and received the
punishment they had designed for the <DW64>. All this was in the
nineteenth century, and in the metropolis of the freest and most
enlightened nation on earth.

[Image: Hanging and burning a <DW64> in Clarkson Street.]

The hunt for these poor creatures became so fearful, and the utter
impossibility to protect them in their scattered localities so apparent,
that they were received into the police stations. But these soon proved
inadequate, and they were taken to head-quarters and the arsenal, where
they could be protected against the mob. Here the poor creatures were
gathered by hundreds, and slept on the floor, and were regularly fed by
the authorities.

It is impossible to give a detailed account of what transpired in every
part of the city. If there had been a single band of rioters, no matter
how large, a force of military and police, properly armed, could have
been concentrated to have dispersed it. But bodies of men, larger or
smaller, bent on violence and devastation, were everywhere; even out at
Harlem eight buildings were burned, and the lower end of Westchester
was in a state of agitation and alarm. A mob of thousands would be
scattered, only to come together at other points. A body of police and
military plunging through the heaving multitude, acted often only as a
stone flung into the water, making but a momentary vacuum. Or, if they
did not come together again, they swung off only to fall in, and be
absorbed by a crowd collected in another part of the city. The alarm
of Monday had only been partial, but to-day it culminated. Families,
husbands, and sons left their business, and with arms patrolled the
streets. Stores were shut up, stages and cars stopped running, and all
business was suspended.

The blood flowing through the thousand arteries of this great mart
seemed suddenly frozen in its channels, and its mighty pulsations to
stop at the mandate of lawless men. The city held its breath in
dread, but there were firm hearts at police head-quarters. Acton never
flinched, and in General Brown he found a soldier that knew his duty,
and would do it at all hazards. Still, the uprising kept swelling into
vaster proportions, embracing a still larger territory.

Broadway was deserted. A few hacks could be seen, but with very
different occupants than those which they ordinarily contained. The
iron shutters were closed on the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and a stack of arms
stood in the hall-way. Crowds of respectable citizens, not on duty, were
making all haste toward railroad depots and steamboat landings. Every
boat, as it swung from the dock, was loaded to its utmost capacity with
people leaving a city that seemed doomed to destruction; going, many
knew not where, only out of New York. Cars were packed, and long trains
were made up to carry the crowds in haste to get away. But travel on the
Hudson River Road was soon stopped by the mob, that tore up the track to
prevent communication with other parts of the State, and the arrival of
troops.

The Harlem and Third Avenue tracks were also torn up, as the rioters
were determined to isolate the great city, which they had doomed to
destruction. Passing from one object to another, now acting as if from
plan, and now intent only on destruction and plunder, the crowd streamed
from point to point with shouts and yells, that sent terror through the
adjoining streets. Suddenly, some one remembered that they were in the
vicinity of Colonel Nugent's house, in Yorkville, the assistant provost
marshal general, and shouting out the news, a rush was made for it, and
it was sacked from top to bottom.

As the police were gathered together either at the precinct stations or
head-quarters, ordinary patrol duty was out of the question; hence,
many isolated, acts of violence could be committed with impunity. This
freedom from close surveillance, coupled with the contagion of the
lawless spirit which was abroad, made every section of the city where
the lower classes lived more or less restless. It was impossible for the
police to divide itself up so to furnish protection in individual cases,
and yet be in sufficient force to cope with the mobs, that numbered by
thousands. Although the whole city was heaving like a troubled sea, yet
the main gathering this day had been in the upper part and on both
sides of it. The terrific contests we described farther back were in
the Second Avenue, on the east side, but, nearly opposite, in the Sixth
Avenue, crowds had been gathering since early in the forenoon.

For a long time they swayed backward and forward, apparently without
any definite purpose, and moved only by the spirit of disorder that
had taken possession of the city. But about two o'clock, these various
bodies began by mutual attraction to flow together, and soon became
one immense mass, and impelled by some information or other, gathered
threateningly around a large mansion on the corner of Forty-sixth
Street and Fifth Avenue. They had supplied themselves with all sorts of
weapons, revolvers, old muskets, stones, clubs, barrel-staves--in short,
everything that could be found, that might be of service in a fight--and
soon commenced plundering the residence. But their movements had been
telegraphed to head-quarters, and Captain Walling, of the Twentieth
Precinct, was dispatched thither, with a company of regulars under
Captain Putnam, a descendant of "Old Put." The report soon spread
through the crowd, that bayonets could be seen coming up the avenue.
Marching up to Forty-sixth Street, the force turned into it, towards
the Fifth Avenue; and breaking into the charge step, with the order "no
prisoners" ringing in their ears, struck the mob almost in the
centre, cutting it in two, like a mighty cleaver. There was no need of
bayonets--the police, at the head of the military, went right through
it, and scattered the men in every direction. The force then divided
into squads, and each one taking a section of the mob, followed it up
on a swift run, and smote them right and left for several blocks. The
larger portion went down Sixth Avenue, and seeing only a portion of the
police pursuing, turned and showed fight, when the leader received a
bullet in the head and fell. Seeing their leader fall, the mob wheeled
and took to their heels.

Captain Walling in one instance saw a crowd with fire-arms standing in
an alley-way. Just then a fire-engine and company came down the street,
and he with his small force got behind it, and kept concealed until
opposite the unsuspecting crowd, when, with a shout, they dashed on it.
A volley received them,--with answering volley, the police charged into
the narrow opening. The rioters fled into a tenement-house, from which
came yells and screams of terrified women and children. Walling had some
sharpshooters with him, to pick off those beyond the reach of the clubs.
One fellow, armed, was seen astraddle of the ridge pole of a house. The
next moment a sharpshooter covered him, and he tumbled headlong to the
ground. The same afternoon he saw some twenty or thirty men attempting
to stave in a hardware store, evidently after pistols. Walling charged
on them alone, and with one terrible blow, his club sent the leader to
the pavement with his brains oozing out.

Although the draft was almost forgotten by the rioters, in the thirst
for plunder and blood, still men in the streets and some of the papers
talked of its being unconstitutional, and to be contested in the
courts--others that it had been and would be suspended, as though any
disposal of it now could affect the conduct of the rioters. Force was
the only argument they would listen to. The riot had almost ceased to
wear any political aspect since the attack on the _Tribune_ office, the
day before, had been defeated. An occasional shout or the sight of a
<DW64> might now and then remind one of its origin, but devastation and
plunder were the great objects that urged on the excited masses. The
sacking of Opdyke's house was done chiefly by a few youngsters, who were
simply following the example set them the day before; while the burning
of <DW64> buildings, the chasing and killing of <DW64>s, seemed to have
only a remote connection with the draft, and was simply the indulgence
of a hatred they were hitherto afraid to gratify. So the setting fire
to the Weehawken ferry afterwards, could be made to grow out of
politics only so far as a man who kept a liquor saloon there was a known
Republican. This seemed a weak inducement to draw a crowd so far, when
more distinguished victims were all around them. It is more probable
that some personal enemy of parties in the vicinity, finding the mob
ready to follow any cry, led them thither; for one man seemed to be the
leader, who, mounted on a fine cavalry horse, and brandishing a sword,
galloped backwards and forwards through the crowd, giving his orders
like a field officer. Mobs springing up everywhere, and flowing together
often apparently by accident, each pursuing a different object: one
chasing <DW64>s and firing their dwellings; others only sacking; a
house, and others still, wreaking their vengeance on station-houses,
while scores, the moment they got loaded down with plunder, hastened
away to conceal it--all showed that the original cause of the uprising
had been forgotten. A strong uncertainty seemed at times to keep them
swaying backwards and forwards, as though seeking a definite object, or
waiting for an appointed signal to move, and then at some shout would
rush for a building, a <DW64>, or station-house.

The mob was a huge monster--frightful both in proportions and
appearance, yet not knowing where or how to use its strength. The attack
on Mr. Gibbon's house at Twenty-ninth Street and Eighth Avenue, during
this afternoon, was attributed to the fact that he was Mr. Greeley's
cousin, and that the former sometimes slept there--rather a far-fetched
inference, as though a mob would be aware of a fact that probably not a
dozen immediate neighbors knew.

Some one person might have raised a cry of "Greeley's house," which
would have been sufficient to insure its destruction. The police being
notified of this attack, sent a squad of men with a military force to
disperse the mob. Captain Ryer formed his troops in front of the house,
and Sergeant Devoursney did the same with a part of his men, while the
other portion was sent into the building, that was filled with men,
women, and children, loading themselves down with the spoils. The
appearance of the caps and clubs in the rooms created a consternation
that would have been ludicrous, but for the serious work that followed.
No defence was made, except by a few persons singly. One fellow advanced
to the door with a pistol in his hand, and fired, sending a ball through
Officer Hill's thigh. The next instant the latter felled him to the
floor with his club, and before he could even attempt to rise he was
riddled with balls. Some of the women fell on their knees, and shrieked
for mercy; while one strong Irish woman refused to yield her plunder,
and fought like a tigress. She seized an officer by the throat, and
trying to strangle and bite him, would not let go till a blow sobered
her into submission.

Some were loaded with shawls and dresses, and one burly,
ferocious-looking Irishman carried under his arm a huge bundle of select
music. As the police chased the plunderers down-stairs, and out into the
street, in some unaccountable way the troops got so confused that they
fired a volley that swept the police as well as the rioters. Officer
Dipple was so severely wounded that he died the following Sunday, while
Officers Hodson and Robinson both received flesh wounds.

In the upper part of the city, few buildings, except those too near
police and army head-quarters, or too well defended, offered much spoil
except private houses, and these had been the chief objects of attack.
But Brooks and Brothers' clothing store in Catharine Street, situated in
a part of the city thickly populated with the very class mobs are made
of, became toward evening an object of great attraction to groups of
hard-looking men and women. As night settled down, the heavens being
overcast, it became very dark; for in all the neighboring houses the
lights were extinguished by the inmates, who were terribly alarmed at
the rapidly increasing crowd in the street. To deepen and complete the
gloom the rioters turned off the gas. Officer Bryan, of the Fourth Ward,
telegraphed to head-quarters the threatening appearance of things, and a
force of fifty or sixty men were at once despatched to the spot. In the
mean time Sergeant Finney, with Platt and Kennedy, stood at the entrance
to defend the building till the police could arrive.

For awhile the three determined police officers, standing silent in the
darkness, overawed the leaders. But soon from the crowd arose shouts,
amid which were heard the shrill voices of women, crying, "Break open
the store." This was full of choice goods, and contained clothing enough
to keep the mob supplied for years. As the shouts increased, those
behind began to push forward those in front, till the vast multitude
swung heavily towards the three police officers. Seeing this movement,
the latter advanced with their clubs to keep them back. At this, the
shouts and yells redoubled, and the crowd rushed forward, crushing down
the officers by mere weight. They fought gallantly for a few minutes;
but, overborne by numbers, they soon became nearly helpless, and were
terribly beaten and wounded, and with the utmost exertions were barely
able to escape, and make their way back to the station. The mob now had
it all its own way, and rushing against the doors, burst bolts and bars
asunder, and streamed in. But it was dark as midnight inside, and they
could not distinguish one thing from another; not even the passage-ways
to the upper rooms of the building, which was five stories high. They
therefore lighted the gas, and broke out the windows. In a few minutes
the vast edifice was a blaze of light, looking more brilliant from
the midnight blackness that surrounded it. The upturned faces of the
excited, squalid throng below presented a wild and savage spectacle in
the flickering light. Men and women kept pouring in and out, the latter
loaded with booty, making their way home into the adjacent streets,
and the former rushing after their portion of the spoils. Coats and
pantaloons, and clothing of every description, were rapidly borne
away; and it was evident, give them time enough, the crowd would all
disappear, and there would be scarcely enough left to finish the work
of destruction. Thinking only of the rich prize they had gained, they
seemed to forget that retribution was possible, when suddenly the cry
of "Police! police!" sent a thrill of terror through them. Sergeant
Delaney, at the head of his command, marched swiftly down the street,
until close upon the mob, when the order, "Double-quick," was given, and
they burst with a run upon them. For a moment, the solid mass, by
mere weight, bore up against the shock; but the clubs soon made a lane
through it broad as the street. Just then a pistol-shot rung from a
house, almost over their heads. Many of the rioters were armed with
muskets, and the comparatively small police force, seeing that firearms
were to be used, now drew their revolvers, and poured a deadly volley
right into their midst. Several fell at the first discharge; and
immediately terror seized that portion of the multitude nearest the
police, especially the women, and many fell on their knees, crying for
mercy. Others forced their way recklessly over their companions, to get
out of reach. As the police made their way to the front of the store,
they formed line, while Sergeant Matthew, of the First Precinct, with
his men, entered the building. The scene here became more frightful
than the one without. The rioters on the first floor made but little
resistance, and, thinking only of escape, leaped from the windows, and
rushed out of doors like mad creatures. But as they attempted to flee,
those without knocked them over with their clubs. Having cleared this
story, the police mounted to the second, where the rioters, being more
closely penned, showed fight. Pistol-shots rang out, and some of the
police officers had narrow escapes. One powerful bully fought like a
tiger, till two policemen fell upon him with their clubs, and soon left
him stark and stiff. At last they drove the whole crowd into a rear
building, and kept them there till they had time to secure them.

Just as the store was cleared, Sergeant Carpenter, who had been sent as
a reinforcement in case of need, came up with a hundred and fifty men,
and charging on the crowd, sent them flying down the narrow streets.
After quiet had been restored, a military force arrived and took
possession of the building.

Just previous to this, another attempt was made to burn the _Tribune_
building, but was easily repelled. The _Times_ office, near by, warned
by the fate of its neighbor the night before, had established a regular
garrison inside, while it brilliantly illuminated the open space all
around it, in the circle of which the rioters did not care to come.

The invaluable service of the telegraph was tested to-day, not merely in
enabling General Brown and the commissioners to despatch men quickly to
a threatened point, but to keep a force moving from one ward to another,
as messages came in, announcing the incipient gathering in different
districts. Word sent to the station in the neighborhood where they were
acting, would instantly change their route; and knots of men, which if
left alone would soon have swelled into formidable mobs, were broken up,
for they found military and police force marching down on them before
they could form a plan of action. Nor was this all. A force sent to a
certain point, after dispersing the mob, would be directed to make a
tour through the disaffected districts--all the time keeping up its
communication with head-quarters, so that if any serious demonstration
was made in that section of the city, it could be ordered there at once,
thus saving half the time it would take to march from head-quarters.
Thus, for instance, Captain Petty was ordered this morning to
head-quarters from the City Hall, where he had passed the night, and
directed to take two hundred men (including his own precinct force), and
go to the protection of a soap factory in Sixteenth Street, Eighth and
Ninth Avenues. He moved off his command, marching rapidly up Broadway
and down Sixteenth Street. The mob saw it coming two blocks off, and
immediately scattered in every direction, which awakened the supreme
contempt of the captain. He now marched backward and forward, and
through the cross streets, up as far as Nineteenth Street, scattering
every fragment of the mob that attempted to hold together, and finally
returned to head-quarters. This was a long march, but the men had
scarcely rested, when the captain was hurried off to aid in the
protection at the wire factory in Second Avenue. In the fierce fight
that followed, he, with ten men at his back, charged up the broad
stairway, fighting his way step by step to the fifth story. Caught up
here at the top of the building, the rioters were clubbed without mercy.
Some, to escape the terrible punishment, plunged down the hatchway;
others attempted to dash past the men, and escape down the stairs.
At one time eight bodies lay in the door-way, blocking it up. He then
marched back to head-quarters. He had been marching and fighting all
day. Similar exhausting duties were performed by other commands, both
police and military. Inspector Dilks, with his force gathered from
various precincts, passed the entire day in marching and fighting. The
men, weary and hungry, would reach head-quarters or certain points,
hoping to get a little rest and refreshment, when the hurried order
would come to repair to a point a mile off, where the mob was firing
and sacking houses, and off they would start on the double-quick.
Uncomplaining and fearless of danger, and never counting numbers, both
police and soldiers were everywhere all this day, and proved themselves
as reliable, gallant, and noble a set of men as ever formed or acted as
the police force of any city in the world.

In the meantime, Governor Seymour and the Mayor of the city were not
idle. The latter at the City Hall, fearing an attack, asked Acton for
a guard of protection, and fifty men were sent him. Report of the mob
assembled there, reached Governor Seymour, at the St. Nicholas, and he
immediately hastened thither, and addressed the crowd from the steps,
which allayed excitement for the time. This speech was variously
commented upon. Some of the criticisms were frivolous, and revealed the
partisan, rather than the honest man. If the Governor had not previously
issued a proclamation to the whole city, in which he declared without
reservation that the mobs should be put down at all hazards--if this
speech had been his only utterance, then the bitter denunciations
against him would have been deserved. It would have been pusillanimous,
cowardly, and unworthy the Governor of the State. But he spoke in his
official capacity, not only firmly, emphatically, and in no ambiguous
terms, but he had hurried up the military, and used every means in his
power to accumulate and concentrate the forces under his control to put
down the riot. No faint-heartedness or sentimental qualmishness marked
any of his official acts. Prompt, energetic, and determined, he placed
no conditions on his subordinates in the manner of putting down the mob,
and restoring the supremacy of the law. But here in this address he was
speaking to men who, as a body at least, had as yet committed no overt
act; and many doubtless were assembled expecting some public declaration
from the City Hall. He was not addressing the plunderers and rioters
that were firing houses and killing <DW64>s, but a mixed assembly, the
excitement of which he thought best to allay, if possible. Some said he
began his address with "My friends;" others, "Fellow-citizens." Whether
he did one, or the other, or neither, is of no consequence and meant
nothing. To have commenced, "Ye villains and cut-throats, disperse at
once, or I'll mow you down with grape-shot!" might have sounded very
brave, but if that was all he was going to say, he had better kept his
room.

A _proclamation_ like this address would have been infamous. Here
is where the mistake was made in the criticisms heaped upon it. His
official acts were all such as became the Chief Magistrate of New York.
The speech, therefore, must be judged rather by the rules of taste and
propriety, than, by those which apply to him officially. If a man's
official acts are all right, it is unjust to let them go for nothing,
and bring into prominence a short address made without premeditation
in the front of an excited, promiscuous assembly, moved by different
motives. That it was open to criticism in some respects, is true.
It should have been imbued more with the spirit of determination to
maintain order and suppress violence, and less been said of the measures
that had or would be taken to test the constitutionality of the draft,
and of his purpose, if it were decided in the courts to be wrong,
to oppose it. Such talk had better be deferred till after order
is restored. When men begin to burn and plunder dwellings, attack
station-houses, hang <DW64>s, and shoot down policemen, it is too late
to attempt to restore peace by talking about the constitutionality of
laws. The upholding of laws about the constitutionality of which there
is no doubt, is the only thing deserving of consideration. The Common
Council of the city exhibited in this respect a most pusillanimous
spirit, by offering resolutions to have the constitutionality of the law
tested, when, the entire constitution and laws of the State were being
subverted! Unquestionably, some charity should be extended to men who
are pleading for those whose votes elevated them to office. Brutuses
are rare nowadays; and politicians do not like to shoot down their own
voters--they would much rather make more voters out of men no more fit
to exercise the right of suffrage than horses and mules.

Governed by a similar spirit, Archbishop Hughes, although he had yielded
to the pressure made on him and issued an address to the Irish, calling
on them to abstain from violence, yet accompanied it with a letter to
Horace Grreeley, directly calculated to awaken or intensify, rather than
allay their passions. He more than intimated that they had been
abused and oppressed, and thought it high time the war was ended.
The proclamation was short, but the letter was a long one, full of a
vindictive spirit, and showing unmistakably with whom his sympathies
were.

Towards evening a mob assembled over in Ninth Avenue, and went to work
with some system and forethought. Instead of wandering round, firing and
plundering as the whim seized them, they began to throw up barricades,
behind which they could rally when the military and police came to
attack them. Indeed, the same thing had been done on the east side of
the city; while railroads had been torn up, and stages stopped, to
keep them from carrying policemen, rapidly from one quarter to another.
During the day, Colonel Frothingham had stood in Third Avenue, and
stopped and emptied every car as it approached, and filled it with
soldiers, to be carried to the upper part of the city. Acton, too, had
sent round to collect all the stages still running in Broadway and the
Bowery, and in a short time they came rumbling into Mulberry Street,
forming a long line in front of head-quarters. A telegram from Second
Avenue demanded immediate help, and the police were bundled into them
and hurried off. One driver refused to stir, saying, roughly, he was
not hired to carry policemen. Acton had no time to argue the case, and
quickly turning to a policeman, he said: "Put that man in cell Number
92." In a twinkling he was jerked from his seat and hurried away.
Turning to another policeman, he said: "Mount that box and drive." The
next moment the stage, with a long string of others, loaded inside and
out with the bluecoats, was whirling through the streets. He had done
the same with the Sixth Avenue cars. The son-in-law of George Law
remonstrated, saying that it would provoke the mob to tear down the
railroad buildings. There was no time to stand on ceremony; the cars
were seized, and the company, to save their property, paid a large sum
to the ringleaders of the rioters. In fact, a great many factories and
buildings were bought off in the same way; so that the leaders drove
quite a thriving business.

But, as before remarked, the commencement of barricades to obstruct the
movements of the police and military, after the Parisian fashion, was
a serious thing, and must be nipped in the bud; and Captain Walling, of
the Twentieth Precinct, who had been busy in this part of the city
all the afternoon in dispersing the mob, sent to head-quarters for a
military force to help remove them. He also sent to General Sandford,
at the arsenal, for a company of soldiers, which was promised, but never
sent. At six o'clock a force of regulars arrived from General Brown, and
repaired to the Precinct station-house. Captain Slott, of the Twentieth
Precinct, took command of the police force detailed to cooperate with
the troops, but delayed action till the arrival of the company promised
from the arsenal. Meanwhile, the rioters kept strengthening the
barricades between Thirty-seventh and Forty-third Streets, in Eighth
Avenue, by lashing carts, wagons, and telegraph poles together with wire
stripped from the latter. The cross streets were also barricaded. Time
passed on, and yet the bayonets of he expected reinforcement from the
arsenal did not appear. The two commanding officers now began to grow
anxious; it would not do to defer the attack till after dark, for such
work as was before them required daylight. At length, as the sun stooped
to the western horizon, it was resolved to wait no longer, and the order
to move forward was given. As they approached the first barricade, by
Thirty-seventh Street, a volley as poured into them from behind it,
followed by stones and brick-bats.

The police now fell back to the left, and the regulars advancing,
returned the fire. The rioters, however, stood their ground, and for a
time nothing was heard but the rapid roll of musketry. But the steady,
well-directed fire of the troops, at length began to tell on the mob,
and they at last broke, and fled to the next barricade. The police then
advanced, and tore down the barricade, when the whole force moved on to
the next. Here the fight was renewed, but the close and rapid volley of
the troops soon scattered the wretches, when this also was removed. They
kept on in this way, till the last barricade was abandoned, when the
uncovered crowd broke and fled in wild disorder. The soldiers pressed
after, breaking up into squads, and chasing and firing into the
disjointed fragments as they drifted down the various streets.

There was more or less disturbance in this section, however, till
midnight. At nine o'clock, an attack was made on a gun and hardware
store, in Thirty-seventh Street, between Eighth and Ninth Avenues, but
Sergeant Petty was sent thither with a small force, and scattered them
at the first charge. At midnight, an attempt was made to destroy the
 church in Thirtieth Street, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues;
but before the rioters had accomplished their work, Captain Walling,
with his entire force and the regulars, came up, and though met with a
volley, fell on them in such a headlong charge, that they scattered down
the street.

All this time the arsenal presented the appearance of a regular camp;
videttes were kept out, sentries established, howitzers commanded the
streets, and everything wore the look of a besieged fortress.

Sandford, whom Wool wished to take command of all the troops, evidently
thought that he had as much as he could do to hold that building,
without doing anything to quell the riot in the city.

One of the first companies that came up from the forts the day before,
and hence belonged to General Brown's force, got, no one could hardly
tell how, into the arsenal, and were there cooped up as useless as
though in garrison--for if seven hundred men with cannon sweeping every
approach could not hold it, seven thousand could not. General Brown and
Acton needed this company badly, but how to get it was the question.
Governor Seymour held no direct communication with the Police
Commissioners; for they were not on friendly terms, as they were holding
their places in defiance of him, he having removed them some time
before. Mr. Hawley, the chief clerk, who knew the Governor personally,
acted, therefore, as the channel of communication between them. He now
went to him, and asked him how things were at the arsenal. He replied,
he did not know--no report had been sent him. Hawley then asked him to
send an officer and ascertain, and get back the company belonging to
General Brown's command. He replied he had no one to send. Hawley then
offered to go himself, if he would give an order to this company of
United States troops to report at once to General Brown at police
head-quarters. He did so, and Hawley, reaching the arsenal in safety,
gave the order to the adjutant-general, before calling on Sandford, so
as to be sure it was obeyed.

On the northern limits of the city, serious disturbances had occurred
during the day, especially in Yorkville, to which Acton was compelled to
send a strong force. The mob also attempted to burn Harlem bridge, but
the heavy rain of the night before had made it so wet that it would not
ignite. Down town, likewise, mobs had assembled before the Western
Hotel and other places, but were dispersed before they had inflicted any
damage. Almost the last act in the evening was an attack on the house of
Mr. Sinclair, one of the owners of the _Tribune_.

But rioters must eat and sleep like other people, and though knots of
them could be seen in various parts of the city, the main portion seemed
to have retired soon after midnight.

In the police head-quarters, men were lying around on the floor in the
warm July night, snatching, as best they could, a little repose. General
Brown and staff, in their chairs or stretched on a settee, nodded in
this lull of the storm, though ready at a moment's notice to do their
duty. But there was no rest for Acton. He had not closed his eyes for
nearly forty hours, and he was not to close them for more than forty to
come.

With his nerves strung to their utmost tension, and resolved to put down
that mob though the streets ran blood, he gave his whole soul to the
work before him. He infused his determined, fearless spirit into every
one who approached him. Anonymous letters, telling him he had not
another day to live, he flung aside with a scornful smile, to attend to
the telegraph dispatches from the different precincts.

Troops and men were stationed at various points, and gunboats were
patrolling the rivers, and he must be on the alert every moment. The
fate of a great city lay on his heart, and he could not sleep.

[Illustration: THE DEAD SERGEANT IN 22d STREET]



CHAPTER XVII.


DRAFT RIOT--THIRD DAY.

Scenes in the City and at Head-quarters.--Fight in Eighth
Avenue.--Cannon sweep the Streets.--Narrow Escape of Captain Howell
and Colonel Mott.--Battle for Jackson's Foundry.--Howitzers clear
the Street.--State of Things shown by Telegraph Despatches.--General
Sandford sends out a Force against a Mob, at Corner of Twenty-ninth
Street and Seventh Avenue.--Colonel Gardin's Fight with the Mob.--Is
Wounded.--Mob Victorious.--Dead and Wounded Soldiers left in the
Street.--Captain Putnam sent to bring them away.--Disperses the
Mob.--Terrific Night.

Tuesday had been a day of constant success to the police and military,
and many thought that the rioters were thoroughly disheartened, and
but little more hard fighting would be done. There had been two days
of exhausting work, and both parties were well tired out. The
commissioners, certainly, could not stand this terrible strain much
longer. Forty-eight hours without sleep or rest, and all the time under
the intensest mental strain, was telling on even the wiry Acton, though
he would confess to no fatigue.

To one who could take in all that was passing in New York on this
morning, the city would have presented a strange appearance.

The magnitude and demonstrations of the mob had aroused great fear for
the Navy Yard and the naval property of the Government, and the marine
company that had been on duty with the police was recalled by Admiral
Paulding for their protection; and this morning six war-vessels,
carrying in all over ninety guns, shotted and trained, could be seen
drawn up, so as to command every avenue to the yard, while the iron-clad
battery _Passaic_ and a gun-boat lay off the Battery to protect Fort
Columbus during the absence of its garrison. Marines armed to the teeth,
and howitzers, guarded all the entrances to the Navy Yard. Broadway
was almost deserted--no stages were running, street-cars had
disappeared--only here and there shutters were taken down from the
stores, and it looked like Sabbath day in the city. But at police
head-quarters all was activity. The African church nearly opposite was
filled with soldiers stretched on the seats and floor of the building.
Another house, a few doors from the police building, was also crowded
with soldiers. The owner of this empty house, having sent a flat refusal
to Acton's request for the use of it, the latter quietly told the
policemen to stave in the door. It took but a few minutes to send it
from its hinges; and now the troops were quartered in it also; for all
those in the service of the United States, under General Brown, had
their head-quarters here.

In the basement of the police building was the telegraph, with the wires
running like nerves to every part of the city, over which inquiries
and answers were continually passing. Rooms all around were filled with
rations obtained from a neighboring grocery and meatmarket, taken with
or without leave. On the main floor, on one side, in their office sat
the weary commissioners; on the other, were Inspectors Carpenter, Dilks,
and Leonard, fit, each one to be a general, while scattered around were
police captains, detectives, and patrolmen. On the second story were
the clerks, copyists, etc.; while the top floor was crowded with 
refugees, who had fled thither for protection. Some were standing and
conversing, others sitting in groups on boxes, or walking from room
to room; many of these sad and serious, as they thought of missing
relatives and friends, while the <DW52> man placed over them, with
his shirt sleeves rolled up, was, with his assistants, dealing out
provisions.

But soon it was announced that a vast crowd, numbering some five
thousand, was assembled near Eighth Avenue and Thirty-second Street,
sacking houses and hanging <DW64>s. General Dodge and Colonel Mott,
with Captain Howell, commanding Eighth Regiment Artillery, were at
once despatched thither. As they marched up the avenue, they saw
three <DW64>s hanging dead, while the crowd around filled the air with
fiendish shouts. As the firm, compact head of the column moved forward,
the mob fell back, but did not scatter. Colonel Mott dashed forward on
horseback and cut down one of the <DW64>s with his sword. This seemed
to be the signal for the mob to commence the attack, and the next
moment they rushed forward on the soldiers with stones, brick-bats, and
slung-shots. Colonel Mott then told Captain Howell to bring two pieces
into battery on the corner of Thirty-second Street and Seventh Avenue,
so as to sweep the streets; but he could not get through the dense crowd
to do so. The infantry and cavalry were then ordered up and told to
clear the way. The former, with level bayonets, and the latter with
drawn sabres, charged on the mass, which parted and fell back some
distance, and then halted. Captain Howell then advanced alone, and
ordered the rioters to disperse, or he should fire on them. To this they
replied in sullen silence. The apparent unwillingness of the captain to
fire emboldened them to believe that he would not fire at all. Although
they refused to disperse, the officers, as long as they made no assault,
declined to give the word to fire. This delay encouraged the rioters
still more; and either believing the guns, whose muzzles pointed so
threateningly on them, were loaded with blank cartridges, or grown
desperate and reckless with rage, they suddenly, as though moved by a
common impulse, rushed forward and rained stones and missiles of every
kind on the soldiers. Seeing that their object was to seize the guns and
turn them on the troops, the word to fire was given. The next moment
a puff of smoke rolled out, followed with a report that shook the
buildings. As the murderous shot tore through the crowded mass, they
stopped, and swayed heavily back for a moment, when the pieces were
quickly reloaded, and again sent their deadly contents into their midst,
strewing the pavements with the dead and dying. Those, however, in the
rear, being protected by the mass in front, refused to give way, and it
was not till five or six rounds had been fired that they finally broke
and fled down the side streets. The military then broke into columns and
marched up and down the streets, scattering everything before them, and
arresting many of the rioters.

Having finished their work, they returned to head-quarters. As they left
the district, the mob, or a portion of it, gathered together again, and
strung up afresh the lifeless bodies of the <DW64>s.

A few hours later, Captain Brower, with a police force, was sent
thither, to take down and remove the bodies of any <DW64>s that might be
still hanging. He did so without molestation.

Captain Howell's murderous fire on the mob came very near causing his
death two days after. Having the curiosity to witness the scene of his
struggle with the mob, he took his carriage, and drove over to it. A
gang of seven or eight ruffians, seeing his uniform, cried out, "There's
the man who fired on us here--let us hang him." Their shouts called
others to the spot, and almost before the captain was aware of his
danger, some fifty men were assembled, and at once made a dash at the
driver, and ordered him to stop. Captain Howell, quickly drawing
his revolver, pointed it at the driver, and ordered him to turn down
Thirty-first Street, and give his horses the whip, or he would shoot
him on the spot. The man obeying, lashed his horses into a run. At this
moment the crowd was all around the carriage, and one man was climbing
up behind, when he fell and was run over. A shower of stones and
brick-bats followed, breaking in the panels of the carriage, and
narrowly missing the captain's head.

One stone struck an old wound in his side, and for a moment paralyzed
his arm. The crowd with yells and shouts followed after, when he turned
and emptied his revolver at them through the back window, which brought
them to a halt. Colonel Mott had a similar escape the day before.
Passing down one of the avenues in a carriage, he was recognized by some
of the rioters, who immediately assailed him with stones, and fired
at him. One of the bullets passed through the cushion on which he was
sitting.

Soon after this affair in Seventh Avenue, word was telegraphed that
Jackson's foundry, corner of Twenty-eighth Street, First and Second
Avenues, was threatened. A military force was despatched forthwith to
it, piloted by four policemen. At Twenty-first Street and First Avenue,
they were fired on by the mob. The attack was continued through the
street to Second Avenue, and up this to Twenty-fifth Street, without
any notice being taken of it by the troops. Made reckless by this
forbearance, the rioters began to close up in more dangerous proximity,
when the howitzer was unlimbered and pointed down the avenue. The mob
not liking the looks of this, scattered, when the column resumed its
march. The mob then rallied, and followed after, with shouts and distant
shots, till the foundry on Twenty-eighth Street was reached. Here
another mob came up from First Avenue, and the two made a simultaneous
attack. The command was then given to fire, and a volley was poured into
the crowd. Rapidly loading and firing, the troops soon stretched so many
on the pavement, that the rest broke and fled. The military then entered
the building and held it. The mob gathered around it, threatening to
storm it, but could not pluck up courage to make the attempt. They
seemed especially exasperated against the policemen, and had the
effrontery to send a committee to the officer in command, demanding
their surrender. If their request was refused, they declared they would
storm the building at all hazards; but if complied with, they would
disperse. The committee had to shout out their demands from the street.
In reply, the officer told them if they did not take themselves off
instantly, he would fire upon them; upon which they incontinently took
to their heels.

As the day wore on, things began to wear a still more threatening
aspect. Despatches came in from every quarter, announcing the activity
of the mob. To a question sent to the Thirteenth Precinct, a little past
twelve, inquiring how things were going on in Grand Street, was returned
the following reply: "Lively; store-keepers have fired into the mob; no
force there yet."

12.20. From Twenty-first. Building corner Thirty-third Street, Second
Avenue, is set on fire by the mob.

12.50. From Fifteenth. Send assistance to Twenty-first Precinct; they
are about attacking it.

12.55. From Twenty-sixth. It is reported that Government stores in
Greenwich, near Liberty, are on fire; fired by mob.

1.10. From Twenty-seventh. Send more men here forthwith.

1.25. From Fourth. Fire corner of Catharine Street and East Broadway.

1.45. A man just in from Eleventh Precinct, reports a number of bands of
robbers, numbering from fifty to one hundred each, breaking into stores
in Houston, near Attorney Street.

1.47 P.M. From Twenty-ninth. The mob have cleared Twenty-first Precinct
station-house.

2 P.M. From Twenty-ninth. A large mob surrounded Captain Green's house,
Twenty-eighth Street, Third Avenue. He escaped out of the back window;
they threatened to hang him.

3.10 P.M. To Eleventh. Send to foot of Fourteenth Street, East River,
and if military is there, send word here forthwith.

3.15. From Twenty-fourth. Mob are firing the building on Second Avenue,
near Twenty-eighth Street. Immediate assistance is required. Houses
occupied by <DW64>s, who are fleeing for their lives.

3.25. From Twentieth. The mob are sacking houses at Twenty-seventh
Street and Seventh Avenue. We have no force to send.

3.30. From Twenty-first. There is an attack on the <DW52> people in
Second Avenue, between Twenty-eighth and Twenty-ninth Streets.

3.40. From Eleventh. Send to 242 Stanton Street, and take possession of
cavalry swords forthwith.

There were five thousand cavalry swords there, and the mob were
assembling to capture them; and the telegram announcing the fact, and
the one ordering a force to seize them, were received and answered the
same minute.

3.55. To Twenty-first. How do things look?

_Ans_. Very bad; large crowd in Thirty-fifth Street, near Third Avenue,
and no assistance from adjoining precinct.

4 o'clock. To Twenty-first. What is going on?

_Ans_. The mob have captured some five or six <DW64>s, and are preparing
to hang them; be quick with reinforcements.

4.43. From Twentieth. News have just come in that the mob are about to
attack the Twenty-second Precinct station-house.

5.15. From Sixteenth. Send us one hundred special shields and clubs; the
citizens are arming up well.

5.15. From Twenty-ninth. Who feeds the special men?

_Ans_. You must, far as able.

_Reply_. No money.

_Ans_. It makes no difference; they must be fed; we are responsible.

5.20. From Twenty-ninth. The rioters are now on Seventh Avenue and
Twenty-eighth Street. They have just killed a <DW64>; say they are going
to cut off the Croton; they have pickaxes and crowbars; and also say
they will cut off the gas; so reported by one of our men, who has been
in the crowd; they were about to fire corner of Twenty-eighth Street and
Seventh Avenue, when he came away.

To have cut off the water and extinguished the gas, would have been
master-strokes; but the military arrived in time to prevent it.

5.25. From First. Riot at Pier 4, North River; they have killed <DW64>s
there.

Thus, at the same moment, from the two extreme ends of the city, came
the news of riots and calls for help. From points five miles apart,
the wires would bring simultaneously tidings that showed the mob
omnipresent.

In the midst of all these incessant exhausting labors, the following
telegram came from the Twentieth Precinct:

"General Sandford says he has so many <DW64>s at the arsenal, that he
must get rid of them."

Acton's answer was characteristic. He had no time for formalities or
courteous exchange of views. In an instant there flashed back over the
wires the curt reply:

"Tell General Sandford he must do the best he can with them there."

General Sandford had at this time about the same number of men under his
command at the arsenal that General Brown had at police head-quarters;
yet the former, up to this morning, had not sent out a single company to
assist the police to arrest the devastations of the mob. He apparently
did not know what was going on, had hardly kept up any communication
with the Police Commissioners or Governor Seymour, but now begs the
former to relieve him of some  refugees, as if the overworked
commissioners had not enough on their hands already. This request is
especially noteworthy, when taken in connection with his after report,
in which he states that on this morning the riot was substantially over;
so much so, at least, that the police could do all that was necessary
without the aid of the military. It would seem that if he really thought
that the rest of the work should be left to them, he might have sent off
some of his troops, and made room for the <DW64>s in the arsenal.

At about two o'clock in the afternoon word was received that a
large number of muskets were secreted in a store on Broadway, near
Thirty-third Street; and Colonel Meyer was ordered to proceed thither,
with thirty-three soldiers belonging to Hawkins' Zouaves, and take
possession of them. Reaching the place, he found a large mob gathered,
which was momentarily increasing. He, however, succeeded in entering the
building, and brought out the arms. An Irishman happening to pass by in
his cart, the colonel seized it, and pitching in the guns, closed around
it, and moved off.

Citizens offering their services were coming in all day, and a company
was formed and placed under the command of Charles A. Lamont, and did
good service. Others also were enrolled and placed on duty.

Colonel Sherwood's battery of rifled cannon arrived in the afternoon,
and was put in position in front of the arsenal, where the firing of
pickets all day would indicate that an attack was momentarily expected.
This did not look as if General Sandford thought the riot substantially
over.

At about five o'clock, it was ordered by Sandford, with an infantry
force of one hundred and fifty, to corner of Twenty-seventh Street and
Seventh Avenue, to quell a mob assembled in large numbers at that point,
and which were gutting, and plundering, and firing houses. As they
approached, they saw flames bursting from windows, while, to complete
the terror of the scene, the body of a <DW64> hung suspended from a
lamp-post, his last struggle just ended. At the same time that the
military arrived, firemen, who had come to put out the fire, reached
the spot in another direction. One portion of the mob immediately took
shelter behind the latter, so that the troops dared not fire and clear
the streets, while another ran up to the house-tops, armed with guns
and pistols, for the purpose of firing into the ranks below. The colonel
told his men to keep a sharp lookout, and at the first shot fire. Scores
of guns were immediately pointed towards the roofs of the houses. In the
meantime, from some cause not fully explained, the imposing force, after
this demonstration, marched away, leaving the mob in full possession of
the field. It had hardly reached the protection of the arsenal again,
when the plundering and violence recommenced; and in a short time two
more <DW64>s were amusing the spectators with their death throes, as
they hung by the neck from lamp-posts. This was the second expedition
sent out by Sandford, the commander-in-chief of the military, during the
riot.

Towards evening word was brought to the Seventh Regiment armory that the
mob had gathered in great force in First Avenue, between Eighteenth and
Nineteenth Streets.

Colonel Winston, in command, immediately ordered out a force, composed
in part of the military, and in part of enrolled citizens, and with a
battery of two howitzers, under command of Colonel Jardine, of Hawkins'
Zouaves, marched rapidly to the scene of disturbance. Passing down
Nineteenth Street to the avenue, it halted, and unlimbering the pieces,
trained them so as to command the avenue, while the infantry formed in
line to support them. As soon as the rioters saw the guns bearing on
them, they dodged into basements, and mounted to the windows and roofs
of the tenement buildings that abounded in that vicinity. A number
of them armed with muskets and pistols, and the rest with stones and
brick-bats, began a fierce and determined attack on the troops. The
howitzers, loaded with grape and canister, at once swept the street.
After the first discharge, but few ventured to show themselves in the
avenue, until after they heard the report, when they would dodge
from behind corners and fire back. But from the tops of the houses an
incessant fusillade was kept up. The soldiers endeavored to pick them
off, but the rioters presented a small mark compared to that which the
troops, massed in the open streets, furnished; and it was soon apparent
that the fight was unequal. If they had only had a police force to enter
the buildings, and hunt the men from the roofs, the fight would soon
have been over. But the commander, thinking he could not spare a
sufficient number to do this work, or that the soldiers, cumbered
with their muskets, which, after the first discharge, would have to be
clubbed, could make no headway in such a hand-to-hand fight, made no
effort to dislodge the wretches, who loaded and fired with the most
imperturbable coolness. One man was seen to step round the corner, after
the discharge of the battery, and resting his gun on the shoulder of a
fellow-rioter, take as deliberate aim at Colonel Jardine as he would at
a squirrel on the limb of a tree, and fire. The ball struck the colonel
in the thigh, and brought him to the pavement. Other officers shared
his fate, while at every discharge, men would drop in the ranks. The
howitzers rattled their shot on the deserted pavements and walls of the
houses, but did no damage to the only portion of the enemy they had to
fear, while the fight between the infantry and the rioters was like
that between soldiers in the open field and Indians in ambush. Colonel
Winston soon saw that it was madness to keep his men there, to be picked
off in detail, and ordered a retreat. At the first sign of a retrograde
movement, a cry rang along the avenue; and from the side streets, and
basements, and houses, the mob swarmed forth so furiously, that it
assumed huge proportions at once, and chased the retiring soldiers with
yells and taunts, and pressed them so hotly that they could not bring
off all their killed and wounded. Among those left behind was Colonel
Jardine. He took refuge in a basement, where the mob found him, and
would have killed him on the spot, had not one of them recognized him
as an old acquaintance, and for some reason or other protected him
from further violence; and he was eventually carried to the house of a
surgeon near by.

The mob were left masters of the field, and soon began their
depredations. The state of things was at length reported to police
head-quarters, and General Brown sent off Captain Putman, with Captain
Shelby and a hundred and fifty regulars and two field-pieces, to
disperse the mob and bring away the dead and wounded of Winston's force
that might remain. They reached the spot between ten and eleven o'clock
at night. The dimly lighted streets were black with men, while many,
apprised of the approach of the military, mounted again to the roofs
as before. Putnam immediately charged on the crowd in the street,
scattering them like a whirlwind. He then turned his guns on the
buildings, and opened such a deadly fire on them that they were soon
cleared. Having restored order, he halted his command, and remained on
the ground till half-past twelve.

At the same time a mob was pulling down the <DW64> houses in York Street,
which they soon left a heap of ruins. Houses plundered or set on fire
in various parts of the city, combined with the ringing of fire-bells,
thunder of cannon, and marching of troops, made this night like its
predecessor--one of horror.

There was also a disturbance in Brooklyn. Shaw's and Fancher's
elevators, and Wheeler's store on the docks, were set on fire, and a
force ordered to put them out.

The illumination of the windows from the _Times_ building this evening
shed a brilliant glow over Printing-house Square, and flooded the Park
to the City Hall with light, while an armed force within was ready to
fire on any mob that should dare expose itself in the circle of its
influence.

At 12.15 the following telegram was sent:

"To all stations. How are things in your precinct?"

_Answer_. "All quiet."

Thus the third night of this terrible riot passed away still unsubdued,
and still Acton sat at his post, awake, while others slept, and kept
feeling through the telegraph wires the pulse of the huge, fevered city.
The regiments coming back from Pennsylvania might arrive at any time,
and he was anxious to know the moment they reached the New York docks.
The Seventh Regiment, especially, he knew was expected to reach the city
that night by special train. Policemen were therefore kept on the watch;
but the regiment did not arrive till after daylight. About half-past
four in the morning, the steady ranks were seen marching along Canal
Street towards Broadway, and soon drew up in front of St. Nicholas
Hotel.



CHAPTER XVIII.


FOURTH DAY.

Proclamations by the Governor and Mayor.--City districted.--Appearance
of the East Side of the City.--A small Squad of Soldiers chased into
a Foundry by the Mob.--Fierce Fight between the Mob and Military in
Twenty-ninth Street.--Soldiers driven from the Ground, leaving a dead
Sergeant behind.--Captain Putnam sent to bring the Body away.--Mows
down the Rioters with Canister.--Storms the Houses.--Utter Rout of
the Mob.-- Orphans and <DW64>s taken by Police to
Blackwell's Island.--Touching Scene.--Coming on of Night and a
Thunderstorm.--Returning Regiments.--Increased Force in the City to put
down Violence.--Archbishop Hughes offers to address the
Irish.--Curious Account of an Interview of a Lady with him and Governor
Seymour.--Strange Conduct of the Prelate.

Only the principal disturbances of the third day were given, and of
these the accounts were very succinct. The movements of the mobs and
the conflicts with them were so similar in character, that a detailed
description of them would be a mere repetition of what had gone before.
After the police force, and the troops under General Brown had become
organized so as to move and act together, each fight with the rioters
was almost a repetition of its predecessor. Having adopted a plan of
procedure, they seldom deviated from it, and the story of one fight
became the story of all--a short struggle and a quick victory.

It was hoped this morning that the rioters would conclude that they
could not carry out their mad designs; for the enrolment of large
bodies of citizens, and the announcement of the speedy return of several
regiments, showed that all the force necessary to subdue them was,
or soon would be, on hand. The day before, the Governor had issued a
proclamation, declaring the city to be in a state of insurrection; but
this morning appeared a proclamation from Mayor Opdyke, announcing that
the insurrection was practically ended. It is true he called on the
citizens to form voluntary associations, with competent leaders, to
patrol their separate districts, to protect themselves from roaming
gangs of plunderers, and so spare the exhausted police and military. Yet
he called on the citizens to resume their usual avocations, and directed
the railroad and stage lines to resume their routes. This opinion of the
Mayor was strengthened by the positive announcement that the draft had
been suspended, and the passage of an ordinance by the City Council,
appropriating $2,500,000 towards paying $300 exemption money to the poor
who might be drafted. It was plain, if the draft was the cause of the
continued riot, it would now cease. But in spite of all this, bad news
came from Harlem, and Yorkville, and other sections. In fact, it
was evident that the Police Commissioners did not share fully in the
pleasant anticipations of the Mayor. Having ascertained that the leaders
of the mob, learning from experience, had organized more intelligently,
and designed to act in several distinct and separate bodies in
different sections, they, with General Brown, divided the city into four
districts, in each one of which were to be stationed strong bodies of
the police and military, so that they could act with more expedition and
efficiency than if they were sent out from the common head-quarters in
Mulberry Street. It would, beside, save the fatigue of long marches.
Those separate stations were in Harlem, Eighteenth, Twenty-ninth, and
Twenty-sixth Precincts. A good deal was also expected by an invitation
given by Archbishop Hughes, that appeared in the morning papers, to the
Irish to meet him next day in front of his house, where, though crippled
from rheumatism, he would address them from the balcony. The Eighth
Avenue cars had been started, as well as those of the Third; and
many stores were opened. Still, on the east side of the city, in the
neighborhood of First Avenue, most of the shops were closed.

It should be here remarked to the credit of the German population, which
were very numerous in certain localities on this side of the city, that
they had no sympathy with the rioters; on the contrary, sent word to the
Police Commissioners not to be concerned about their locality; they
had organized, and would see that order was maintained there. No better
title to American citizenship than this could be shown.

[Illustration: THE RIOTERS DRAGGING COL. O'BRIEN'S BODY THROUGH THE
STREET.]

Though early in the morning, it was comparatively quiet on the east side
of the city; yet near First Avenue knots of men could be seen here and
there, engaged in loud and angry conversation. They looked exhausted and
haggard, but talked defiant as ever, swearing terrible vengeance
against the military; for, though hidden from sight, in the miserable
tenement-houses near by, lay their dead, dying, and wounded friends by
scores. Near Nineteenth Street, the scene of the conflict the evening
previous, there were stones, brick-bats, shivered awning-posts, and
other wrecks of the fight. The grog-shops were open, in which men with
bloody noses, and bruised and battered faces, obtained the necessary
stimulus to continue the desperate struggle. Dirty, slovenly-dressed
women stood in the door-ways or on the steps, swearing and denouncing
both police and military in the coarsest language. Though the immense
gatherings of the preceding days were not witnessed, yet there was a
ground-swell of passion that showed the lawless spirit was not subdued,
though overawed. But the Police Commissioners were now prepared for
whatever might occur. The Seventh Regiment had been stationed on the
west side of the city, with a wide district to keep in order, thus
enabling them to concentrate larger forces in other directions. But,
although everything wore this favorable aspect to the authorities,
it was evident towards noon, from the steadily increasing size of the
groups observed in the morning, that they had resolved to try again
their strength with the military. The state of things was telegraphed to
police head-quarters, but the report making the mob not formidable, only
a company of about twenty-five men were sent out. Finding the rioters
numbered about two hundred or more, and not daring to fire their
howitzer, lest, before it could be reloaded, the former would rush
forward and seize it, they concluded to retire. The mob at once set
furiously on them, and forced them to take refuge in Jackson's foundry.
The following telegram to head-quarters announced the fact:

"1.25. From Twenty-first. The mob has charged our military, about
twenty-five in number, and driven them into Jackson's foundry, First
Avenue and Twenty-eighth Street. The mob are armed, and every time a
regular shows himself they fire. A few good skirmishers would pick off
these riflemen and relieve the military."

This was soon succeeded by the following:

"1.54. From Twenty-first. Send military assistance immediately to First
Avenue and Twenty-eighth Street. The mob increases, and will murder the
military force."

_Ans_. "They are on their way up."

They soon arrived, and were at once furiously attacked by the mob. The
soldiers fired into them, but they boldly held their ground, and were
evidently bent on a desperate fight.

The former now took up their stations at the junction of the streets,
and were about to sweep them with canister, when from some cause a delay
was ordered. This increased the boldness of the mob, and they taunted
and derided the soldiers. But in a few minutes a reinforcement of
regulars arrived on the ground and charged bayonets. The rioters fell
back, but rallying, forced the soldiers to retire in turn. The latter,
however, returned to the charge, when the mob again gave way, but still
stubbornly refused to disperse.

News of the magnitude of the struggle reached the Seventh Regiment, and
they rapidly marched to the spot. Their steady tramp along the pavement,
and well-set ranks, discouraged the crowd, and they marched and
counter-marched through the streets without molestation.

The mob, however, dispersed only to reassemble again in Twenty-ninth
Street, and began to plunder the stores in the vicinity, and spread
devastation on every side.

This being reported to head-quarters, a military force was despatched
to disperse them. The rioters, however, instead of retreating, attacked
them with the greatest fury. Almost every house was filled with them,
and they lined the roofs with muskets and pistols, from which they
poured down a deadly fire. For nearly a half an hour the fire was kept
up without cessation, and many were killed. A sergeant was knocked down
by a brick-bat, and then seized and beaten to death. The troops finding
themselves unable to dislodge the assailants, retreated, leaving the
body of the sergeant in the street, where it lay for three hours.
General Brown not having a sufficient number of troops on hand, the mob
all this time had it their own way. It was nine o'clock before he
could despatch Captain Putnam with a strong force to put an end to the
disgraceful scene. Arriving on the spot, the latter addressed the crowd,
saying that he had come to carry away the dead body of the sergeant,
and should do it at all hazards. But he had hardly placed it in a wagon,
when the crowd began to assail his troops. He immediately unlimbered
his pieces, when it scattered in every direction. But the rioters came
together again at the corner of Thirty-first Street and Second Avenue,
where they were met by reinforcements, and made a stand. They filled the
houses, and mounted to the roofs, armed with muskets and revolvers,
and as Putnam appeared, commenced a rapid fire. Placing his pieces in
position, this gallant officer swept the street with canister, which
soon cleared it. Eleven of the ringleaders were shot down, and bodies
lay thick on the pavement. But this did not intimidate those in the
windows, or on the roofs, and they kept up a steady fire. Putnam, who
showed by his cool courage that the fighting stock from which he came
had not degenerated, now ordered his men to turn their fire on the
buildings. At each discharge, the heavy volleys brought down many of the
wretches, some pitching headlong from the roof, and dashing out their
brains on the pavement and flagging below. But the fight was very
unequal, for the assailants would expose their bodies as little as
possible; Putnam saw that the houses must be stormed, and gave the order
to do it. The fight was now transferred to the inside, and became close
and murderous. In the narrow halls and on the stairways, numbers were of
no avail, and the rioters fought with a desperation they had not before
exhibited. There was no way of escape, and they seemed to prefer death
to being taken prisoners, and for a half an hour maintained the conflict
in the darkened rooms and passages with a ferocity that was appalling.
At last, however, with their numbers sadly thinned, they were forced to
yield, and took refuge in flight. Many, unable to get away, hid under
beds and in closets, but the soldiers ferreted them out, and carried
them to police head-quarters.

The arsenal had not been attacked, as Sandford seemed every day to think
it would be. Many <DW52> people, as before stated, took refuge in it;
and about noon on this day, a body of police arrived before it, with the
children of the  Orphan Asylum that had been burned on Monday, in
charge. They had since that time been scattered round in station-houses,
but were now to be escorted to Blackwell's Island, for better security.
It was an impressive spectacle this army of children presented, as they
drew up in line in front of the arsenal to wait for those within to join
them. The block was filled with them. The frightened little fugitives,
fleeing from they scarce knew what, looked bewildered at their novel
position. It seemed impossible that they ever could have been the
objects of any one's vengeance. With a strong body of police in front
and rear, and a detachment of soldiers on either side, they toddled
slowly down to the foot of Thirty-fifth Street, from whence they were
taken by boats to the Island.

The Sixty-fifth New York Regiment arrived from Harrisburg in the
afternoon, and just before midnight the One Hundred and Fifty-second
also reached the city, and marched up Broadway to police head-quarters,
where they were stowed away to get some rest.

A heavy storm that set in during the evening, helped to scatter the
crowd that would otherwise have gathered on this warm July night, but it
at the same time gave a sombre aspect to the city. The crescent moon was
veiled in black, and thunderous clouds that swept heavily over the city,
deepened the gloom, and seemed portentous of greater evil. The closing
of all the stores and shop-windows at nightfall, through fear, left the
streets lighted only by the scattering lamps. This unusual stretch of
blank dead walls, emitting no ray of light, rendered the darkness made
by the overhanging storm still more impenetrable. Flashes of lightning
would reveal small groups of men bent on plunder, in sections where
the military and police were not stationed, but no open violence was
attempted. In other directions, the bayonets of the soldiers would gleam
out of the dense shadows, as they silently held the posts assigned them,
ready to march at a moment's notice. This was the fourth night, and the
cannon planted in the streets, and the increased military force,
showed that peace was not yet fully restored. The Seventh Regiment
was quartered in Thirty-fourth Street, part of the soldiers within
a building, and crowding every window to catch the first sign of
disturbance, and part stationed below, or marching back and forth in the
street. Other troops and policemen were massed at head-quarters, ready
to move, at the word of command, to any point threatened by the mob.

The fourth night was passing away, and still Acton clung to his post,
and refused to take even a moment's rest. His whole nature had been
keyed up to meet the grave responsibilities that lay upon him, and
through the wires he still watched every threatened point in the city,
with sleepless vigilance. In the meantime, over a thousand special
policemen had been sworn in, and five hundred or more citizens had
voluntered their services, while the steady arrival of returning
regiments swelled the military force into formidable proportions.

During the day, Senators Connolly and O'Brien had waited on General
Brown, and asked him to remove the military from their ward, as their
presence excited the people. The General very bluntly refused, saying he
should not permit his troops to retire from before an armed mob. He was
asked also to order the troops to leave Jackson's foundry for the same
reason, and gave an equally emphatic refusal. There was now to be no
compromise with the rioters, no agreement entered into. They had got
beyond the character of citizens with rights to be respected--they were
assassins and murderers, to whom was submitted the simple question of
subjection to law and authority, or death.

The fighting through the day had been severe, but the disturbance had
not been so wide-spread and general. Outside of the city, there had been
threatening rumors. It was reported that there was danger of an uprising
in Westchester, where some leading Democrats had taken open opposition
to the draft, and a gun-boat had gone up as far as Tarrytown; but
nothing serious occurred.

The rioters being almost exclusively Irish, it was thought that an
address from Archbishop Hughes would go far to quiet the ringleaders,
and he had therefore issued the following call, already referred to:

To the men of New York, who are now called in many of the papers
rioters.

MEN!

I am not able, owing to rheumatism in my limbs, to visit you, but
that is not a reason why you should not pay me a visit in your whole
strength. Come, then, tomorrow (Friday) at two o'clock, to my residence,
north-west corner of Madison Avenue and Thirty-sixth street. There is
abundant space for the meeting, around my house. I can address you from
the corner of the balcony. If I should not be able to stand during its
delivery, you will permit me to address you sitting; my voice is
much stronger than my limbs. I take upon myself the responsibility of
assuring you, that in paying me this visit or in retiring from it,
you shall not be disturbed by any exhibition of municipal or military
presence. You who are Catholics, or as many of you as are, have a right
to visit your bishop without molestation.

JOHN HUGHES, Archbishop of New York.

NEW YORK, _July_ 16, 1863.

A curious incident was related subsequently in one of the New York
papers, respecting the manner in which an interview was brought about
between him and Governor Seymour, and which resulted in the resolution
of the Archbishop to address the rioters. The substance of the account
was, that a young widow of high culture, formerly the wife of a
well-known lawyer of this city--a woman living in an atmosphere of art,
and refinement, and spending her time in study, became so excited
over the violence and bloodshed that the authorities seemed unable to
suppress, and finding that the Irish were at the bottom of the trouble,
determined to appeal to Archbishop Hughes personally, to use his high
authority and influence to bring these terrible scenes to a close.

Acting on this determination, she set out this morning for the
Archbishop's residence, but on arriving was told that he was at the
residence of Vicar-general Starrs, in Mulberry Street. Hastening
thither, she asked for an interview. Her request was denied, when she
repeated it; and though again refused, would not be repelled, and sent
word that her business was urgent, and that she would not detain him ten
minutes. The Archbishop finally consented to see her. As she entered
the library, her manner and bearing--both said to be remarkably
impressive--arrested the attention of the prelate. Without any
explanation or apology, she told him at once her errand--that it was one
of mercy and charity. She had been educated in a Roman Catholic convent
herself, in which her father was a professor, and she urged him, in
the name of God, to get on horseback, and go forth into the streets
and quell the excitement of his flock. She told him he must, like Mark
Antony, address the people; and in rescuing this great metropolis from
vandalism, would become a second Constantine, an immortal hero. It was
his duty, she boldly declared; and though she did not profess to be a
Jeanne d'Arc or Madame Roland, but a plain woman of the present day,
she would ride fearlessly by his side, and if he were threatened, would
place her body between him and danger, and take the blow aimed at
him. The cautious and crafty prelate was almost carried away by the
impassioned and dramatic force of this woman, but he told her it would
be presumption in him to do so; in fact, impossible, as he was so
crippled with rheumatism and gout, that he could not walk. She then
asked him to call the crowd, and address them from the balcony of his
house. He replied that he was just then busy in writing an answer to an
attack on him in the _Tribune_. She assured him that such a controversy
was worse than useless--that another and higher duty rested on him.
She pressed him with such importunity and enthusiasm, that he finally
consented; but as a last effort to get rid of her, said he feared the
military would interfere and attack the mob. She assured him they would
not, and hurried off to the St. Nicholas to see Governor Seymour about
it. She found the ante-room filled with officials and other personages
on important business, waiting their turn to be admitted. But her
determined, earnest manner so impressed every one with the importance of
her mission, that precedence was granted her, and she found herself at
once beside the astonished Governor. Without any preliminaries, she
told him she had just come from the head of the church, and wanted
his excellency to visit him immediately. No business was of such vital
importance as this. The self-possessed Governor coolly replied that he
should be glad to see the Archbishop, but business was too pressing to
allow him to be absent even a half an hour from his duties. She hastened
back to Archbishop Hughes, and prevailed on him to write a note to
Governor Seymour, asking him to call and see him, as he was unable
to get out. Fortified with this, she now took a priest with her, and
providing herself with a carriage, returned to head-quarters, and
absolutely forced, by her energy and determination and persuasive
manner, the Governor to leave his business, and go to the Archbishop's.
The invitation to the Irish to meet him was the result of this
interview.

Why Archbishop Hughes took no more active part than he did in quelling
this insurrection, when there was scarcely a man in it except members of
his own flock, seems strange. It is true he had published an address
to them, urging them to keep the peace; but it was prefaced by a long,
undignified, and angry attack on Mr. Greeley, of the _Tribune_, and
showed that he was in sympathy with the rioters, at least in their
condemnation of the draft. The pretence that it would be unsafe for him
to pass through the streets, is absurd; for on three different occasions
common priests had mingled with the mob, not only with impunity, but
with good effect. He could not, therefore, have thought himself to be in
any great danger. One thing, at any rate, is evident: had an Irish mob
threatened to burn down a Roman Catholic church, or a Roman Catholic
orphan asylum, or threatened any of the institutions or property of the
Roman Church, he would have shown no such backwardness or fear. The
mob would have been confronted with the most terrible anathemas of the
church, and those lawless bands quailed before the maledictions of the
representative of "God's vicegerent on earth." It is unjust to suppose
that he wished this plunder and robbery to continue, or desired to
see Irishmen shot down in the streets; it must, therefore, be left to
conjecture, why he could not be moved to any interference except by
outside pressure, and then show so much lukewarmness in his manner--in
fact, condemning their opponents almost as much as themselves.

The excitement consequent on the draft, exhibited in outbreaks in
various parts of the country, and in the vicinity of New York, was
increased by the reports of violence and fighting in the latter city. In
Troy there was a riot, and the mob, imitating the insane conduct of
the rioters in New York, proceeded to attack an African church. But a
priest, more bold or more patriotic than Archbishop Hughes, interfered
and saved it. That the latter, armed with nothing but the crucifix,
could have effected as much as the police and military together, there
can be but little doubt. This open and decided sympathy with law
and order, and bitter anathemas against the vandals who sought the
destruction of the city, were the more demanded, as such a large
proportion of the police force were Roman Catholics, and in their noble
devotion to duty, even to shooting down their own countrymen and men
of a similar faith, deserved this encouragement from the head of the
church.

[Illustration: BURNING OF THE SECOND AVENUE ARMORY.]



CHAPTER XIX.


CLOSING SCENES.

Tranquil Morning.--Proclamation of the Mayor.--Mob cowed.--Plunderers
afraid of Detection.--Dirty Cellars crowded with rich Apparel,
Furniture, and Works of Art.--Archbishop Hughes' Address.--Useless
Efforts.--Acton's Forty-eight Hours without Sleep over.--Change in
Military Commanders in the City.--General Brown relinquishes his
Command.--True Words.--Noble Character and Behavior of the Troops and
Police.--General Brown's invaluable Services.

This week of horrors--a week unparalleled in the history of New
York--was drawing to a close. It had been one of terror and dismay to
the inhabitants, who thought only of the immediate effects on themselves
of the triumph of the mob. A great city laid in ashes, given, up to
robbers and cut-throats, is at any time a terrible spectacle; but New
York in ruins at this time was a republic gone--a nation, uncrowned and
left desolate; but the battle, both for the nation and city, had been
nobly fought and won; and Friday, the fifth day of this protracted
struggle, dawned bright and tranquil. The storm of the night before had
passed away, and the streets, thoroughly washed by the drenching rain,
stretched clean and quiet between the long rows of buildings, emblematic
of the tranquillity that had returned to the city.

The cars were seen once more speeding down to the business centres,
loaded with passengers. Broadway shook to the rumbling of the heavy
omnibuses; shutters were taken down, and the windows again shone
with their rich adornments. The anxious look had departed from the
pedestrians, for the heavy cloud, so full of present woe and future
forebodings, had lifted and passed away.

The following proclamation of Mayor Opdyke will show the true state of
things on this morning, and what the people had most to fear:

"The riotous assemblages have been dispersed. Business is running in its
usual channels. The various lines of omnibuses, railway, and telegraph
have resumed their ordinary operations. Few symptoms of disorder remain,
except in a small district in the eastern part of the city, comprising a
part of the Eighteenth and Twenty-first Wards. The police is everywhere
alert. A sufficient military force is now here to suppress any illegal
movement, however formidable.

"Let me exhort you, therefore, to pursue your ordinary business. Avoid
especially all crowds. Remain quietly at your homes, except when engaged
in business, or assisting the authorities in some organized force. When
the military appear in the street, do not gather about it, being
sure that it is doing its duty in obedience to orders from superior
authority. Your homes and your places of business you have a right to
defend, and it is your duty to defend them, at all hazards. Yield to no
intimidation, and to no demand for money as the price of your safety.
If any person warns you to desist from your accustomed business, give
no heed to the warning, but arrest him and bring him to the nearest
station-house as a conspirator.

"Be assured that the public authorities have the ability and the will
to protect you from those who have conspired alike against your peace,
against the government of your choice, and against the laws which your
representatives have enacted.

"GEORGE OPDYKE, Mayor."

Down-town there was scarcely anything to show that New York had for
nearly a week been swept by one of the most frightful storms that ever
desolated a city. Even in the disaffected districts, no crowds were
assembled. In the corner groggeries, small groups of men might be seen,
discussing the past, and uttering curses and threats; and ruined houses
and battered walls and hanging blinds here and there arrested the eye,
showing what wild work had been wrought; but it was evident that the
struggle was over. The mob was thoroughly subdued, and the law-breakers
now thought more of escaping future punishment than of further acts of
violence. Bruised heads and battered forms were scattered through the
low tenement-houses in every direction, which friends were anxious to
keep concealed from the notice of the authorities. In dirty cellars and
squalid apartments were piled away the richest stuffs--brocaded silks,
cashmere shawls, elegant chairs, vases, bronzes, and articles of virtu,
huddled promiscuously together, damning evidences of guilt, which were
sure not to escape, in the end, the searching eye of the police, who had
already begun to gather up the plunder. Thus the objects mostly coveted
but a few hours ago now awakened the greatest solicitude and fear.

Even if the military under General Brown and the police had not shown
the mob that they were its masters, the arrival of so many regiments,
occupying all the infected districts, was overwhelming evidence that the
day of lawless triumph was over, and that of retribution had come. Some
acts of individual hostility were witnessed, but nothing more.

Archbishop Hughes had his meeting, and some five thousand assembled to
hear him. They were on the whole a peaceable-looking crowd, and it was
evidently composed chiefly, if not wholly, of those who had taken no
part in the riot. None of the bloody heads and gashed faces, of which
there were so many at that moment in the city, appeared. The address was
well enough, but it came too late to be of any service. It might have
saved many lives and much destruction, had it been delivered two days
before, but now it was like the bombardment of a fortress after it had
surrendered--a mere waste of ammunition. The fight was over, and to use
his own not very refined illustration, he "spak' too late." The reports
that came in to Acton from all the precincts convinced him of this, and
he began to think of rest.

The strain was off, and overtasked nature made her demand, and he was
compelled to yield to it. The tremendous work that had been laid
upon him had been right nobly accomplished. Had he been a weak and
vacillating man, the rioters would have acquired a headway that could
not have been stopped, without a more terrible sacrifice of life and
property--perhaps even of half the city. Comprehending intuitively
the gravity of the situation, and the danger of procrastination or
temporizing, he sprang at once for the enemy's throat, and never ceased
his hold until he had strangled him to death. If he had waited to
consult authorities about the legality of his action, or listened to
the voice of pity, or yielded to the clamors of leading politicians
or threats of enemies, both he and the city, in all human probability,
would have been swept away in the hurricane of popular fury.

On this day a most remarkable announcement was published: that a sudden
change had been made in the military command of the troops of the city
and harbor. General Dix superseded General Wool, and Canby, General
Brown. That Wool should have been removed at any time, might have been
expected; not from incapacity, but on account of his age, and because
any one could perform the mere nominal duties that devolved on him. But
why General Brown should have been removed at this critical moment, when
he and the Police Commissioners were performing their herculean task so
faithfully and well, is not so plain; unless it was the result of one of
those freaks of passion or despotic impulse, for which the Secretary of
War was so ignobly distinguished. But unlike many other blunders which
the War Department committed at this time, it did not result in any evil
consequences, for the fight was over. But of this fact the Secretary of
War was ignorant when he made out the order.

General Brown, in relinquishing his command, spoke warmly of the noble
behavior of the troops during the riots, saying: "Engaged night and day
in constant conflict with the mob, they have in some fifteen or twenty
severe contests--in most of them outnumbered more than ten to one, many
of the mob being armed--whipped and effectually dispersed them, and have
been uniformly successful. In not a single instance has assistance been
required by the police, when it has not been promptly rendered; and all
property, public and private, which has been under their protection, has
been perfectly and efficiently protected; and with pride he desires
to record, that in this city, surrounded by grog-shops, but one single
instance of drunkenness has fallen under his observation.

"To Lieutenant-colonel Frothingham, his able and efficient
adjutant-general, he tenders his thanks for his untiring assistance.

"Having during the present insurrection been in immediate and constant
co-operation with police department of this city, he desires the
privilege of expressing his unbounded admiration of it. Never in civil
or military life has he seen such untiring devotion and such efficient
service.

"To President Acton and Commissioner Bergen he offers his thanks for
their courtesy to him and their kindness to his command.

"HARVEY BROWN, _Brigadier-general_."

The praise he bestows both on the police and soldiers was richly
deserved; and he may well say that "with pride he desires to record that
in this city, surrounded with grog-shops, but one single instance of
drunkenness has fallen under his observation." With all a soldier's
tendency to indulge in spirituous liquor, to be thrown right amid
drinking-places, which by harboring rioters had lost all claim to
protection--part of the time suffering from want of food, and often
drenched to the skin, and weary from hard fighting and want of
sleep--not to step away occasionally in the confusion and darkness
of night, and solace himself with stimulating drinks, was something
marvellous. After hard fighting, and long marching, and short rations, a
soldier feels he has a right to indulge in liquor, if he can get it; and
their abstinence from it in such lawless times, not only speaks well
for their discipline, but their character. A single instance shows under
what perfect control the troops were. One day Colonel Ladue, seeing that
his men were exhausted and hungry, desired to let them have a little
beer to refresh them, and the following telegram was sent from the
precinct where they were on duty:

"5.45 P.M. From 9th. Colonel Ladue wishes his men allowed to have beer
in station-house."

_Answer_. "Mr. Acton says he is opposed to beer, but the colonel can
give his men as much as he pleases."

"Acton is opposed to beer," but the troops are not under his command,
and he has no heart to deny the poor fellows the station-house in which
to refresh themselves after their hard day's work. This incident also
shows the strict discipline maintained in the police department.

General Brown had done a noble work. Taking his place beside the Police
Commissioners, he bent all his energies to the single task of carrying
out their plans, and save the city from the hands of the rioters. He
never thought what deference might be due him on the score of etiquette,
or on account of his military rank; he thought only of putting down
the mob at all hazards. His refusal, at first, to serve under General
Sandford was not merely that it was an improper thing to place a
general of the regular army under the orders of a mere militia general,
[Footnote: Because he was especially assigned to the command of the city
by the Secretary of War.] having no rank whatever in the United States
army, but he knew it would paralyze his influence, and in all human
probability result in the useless sacrifice of his troops. The absurdity
of not moving until he received orders from his superior officer, cooped
up in the arsenal, where he remained practically in a state of siege,
was so apparent that he refused to countenance it. He was willing that
President Acton should be his superior officer, and give his orders, and
he would carry them out; for thus he could act efficiently and make his
disciplined battalion tell in the struggle; but for the sake of his
own reputation and that of his troops, he would not consent to hold a
position that would only bring disgrace on both. His views are clearly
expressed in his reply to a highly complimentary letter addressed to him
by the mayor and a large number of prominent citizens, for the signal
services he had rendered. He says: "I never for a moment forgot that to
the police was confided the conservation of the peace of the city;
and that only in conjunction with the city authorities, and on their
requisition, could the United States forces be lawfully and properly
employed in suppressing the riot, and in restoring that peace and good
order which had been so lawlessly broken. Acting in accordance with
this principle, and as aids to the gallant city police, the officers and
soldiers of my command performed the most unpleasant and arduous duty,
with that prompt energy and fearless patriotism which may ever be
expected from the soldiers of the Republic."



CHAPTER XX.

Continued Tranquillity.--Strange Assortment of Plunder gathered in the
Cellars and Shanties of the Rioters.--Search for it exasperates
the Irish.--Noble Conduct of the Sanitary Police.--Sergeant
Copeland.--Prisoners tried.--Damages claimed from the City.--Number
of Police killed.--Twelve hundred Rioters killed.--The Riot Relief
Fund.--List of <DW52> People killed.--Generals Wool and Sandford's
Reports.--Their Truthfulness denied.--General Brown vindicated.

On Saturday morning it was announced that the authorities at Washington
had resolved to enforce the draft. It had been repeatedly asserted
during the riot that it was abandoned, and the report received
very general credence. Still, the official denial of it produced no
disturbance. The spirit of insurrection was effectually laid.

It is a little singular, that, in all these tremendous gatherings and
movements, no prominent recognized leaders could be found. A man by the
name of Andrews had been arrested and imprisoned as one, but the charge
rested wholly on some exciting harangues he had made, not from any
_active_ leadership he had assumed.

There were, perhaps, in the city this morning not far from ten thousand
troops--quite enough to preserve the peace, if the riot should break out
afresh; and orders therefore were given to arrest the march of regiments
hastening from various sections to the city, under the requisition of
the Governor. Still, the terror that had taken possession of men could
not be allayed in an hour, and although the police had resumed their
patrols, and dared to be seen alone in the streets, there was constant
dread of personal violence among the citizens. Especially was this true
of the <DW64> population. Although many sought their ruined homes, yet
aware of the intense hatred entertained toward them by the mob, they
felt unsafe, and began to organize in self-defence. But the day wore
away without disturbance, and the Sabbath dawned peaceably, and order
reigned from the Battery to Harlem. The military did not show themselves
in the street, and thousands thronged without fear the avenues in which
the fighting had taken place, to look at the ruins it had left behind.
On Monday there was more or less rebellious feeling exhibited by the
rioters, on account of the general search of the police for stolen
goods, and the arrest of suspected persons. It exhibited itself,
however, only in threats and curses--not a policemen was assaulted. It
was amusing, sometimes, to see what strange articles the poor wretches
had stowed away in their dirty cellars. There was everything from
barrels of sugar and starch to tobacco and bird-seed. Said a morning
paper: "Mahogany and rosewood chairs with brocade upholstering,
marble-top tables and stands, costly paintings, and hundreds of delicate
and valuable mantel ornaments, are daily found in low hovels up-town.
Every person in whose possession these articles are discovered disclaims
all knowledge of the same, except that they found them in the street,
and took them in to prevent them being burned. The entire city will be
searched, and it is expected that the greatest portion of the property
taken from the buildings sacked by the mob will be recovered." The
rivers and outlets to the city were closely watched, to prevent its
being carried off. In the meantime, arrests were constantly made.

It would be invidious to single out any portion of the police for
special commendation, where all did their duty so nobly; but it is not
improper to speak of the sanitary police, whose specific duties do not
lead them to take part in quelling mobs.

They have to report all nuisances, examine tenement-houses and unsafe
buildings, look after the public schools, but more especially examine
steam-boilers, and license persons qualified to run steam-engines.
Hence, it is composed of men of considerable scientific knowledge. But
all such business being suspended during the riot, they at once, with
their Captain, B. G. Lord, assumed the duties of the common policemen,
and from Monday night till order was restored, were on constant duty,
participating in the fights, and enduring the fatigues with unflinching
firmness, and did not return to their regular duties till Monday
morning.

The drill-officer also, Sergeant T. S. Copeland, became, instead of a
drill-officer, a gallant, active leader of his men in some of the most
desperate fights that occurred. His military knowledge enabled him to
form commands ordered hastily off, with great despatch. But not content
with this, he led them, when formed, to the charge, and gave such
lessons in drill, in the midst of the fight, as the police will never
forget.

With the details of what followed we have nothing to do. The Grand Jury
indicted many of the prisoners, and in the term of the court that
met the 3d of August, twenty were tried and nineteen convicted, and
sentenced to a longer or shorter term of imprisonment. Of course a
large number on preliminary examinations got off, sometimes from want
of sufficient evidence, and sometimes from the venality of the judges
before whom they were brought. Claims for damages were brought in, the
examination of which was long and tedious. The details are published in
two large volumes, and the entire cost to the city was probably three
millions of dollars. Some of the claims went before the courts, where
they lingered along indefinitely. The number of rioters killed, or
died from the effects of their wounds, was put down by the Police
Commissioners at about twelve hundred. Of course this estimate is not
made up from any detailed reports. The dead and wounded were hurried
away, even in the midst of the fight, and hidden in obscure streets, or
taken out of the city for fear of future arrests or complications. Hence
there was no direct way of getting at the exact number of those who
fell victims to the riot. The loss of life, therefore, could only be
approximated by taking the regular report of the number of deaths in the
city for a few weeks before the riots, and that for the same length
of time after. As there was no epidemic, or any report of increased
sickness from any disease, the inference naturally was, that the excess
for the period after the riots was owing to the victims of them. Many of
these were reported as sunstrokes, owing to men exposing themselves to
the sun with pounded and battered heads. The Police Commissioners took
great care to keep all the wounded policemen indoors until perfectly
cured. Only one ventured to neglect their orders, and he died of a
sunstroke.

The difference of mortality in the city for the month previous to the
riots, and the month during and subsequent, was about twelve hundred,
which excess Mr. Acton thought should be put down to the deaths caused
directly and indirectly by the riots. Although many policemen were
wounded, only three were killed or died from the injuries they received.

Immediately after the riot, Mr. Leonard W. Jerome and others interested
themselves in raising a fund for the relief of members of the Police,
Militia, and Fire Departments who had sustained injuries in the
discharge of their duty in suppressing the riots. Subscriptions to
the amount of $54,980 were paid in, and $22,721.53 distributed by the
Trustees of the Riot Relief Fund, in sums from $50 to $1,000, each,
through Isaac Bell, Treasurer, to 101 policemen, 16 militiamen, and 7
firemen.

The balance was securely invested, to meet future emergencies, a portion
of which was paid to sufferers by the Orange Riot of 1871.

The following is the list of <DW52> people known to be killed by the
mob, together with the circumstances attending their murder, as given
by David Barnes, in his Metropolitan record, to which reference has
heretofore been made.

 VICTIMS OF THE RIOT.

WILLIAM HENRY NICHOLS (). Nichols resided at No. 147 East
Twenty-eighth Street. Mrs. Staat, his mother, was visiting him. On
Wednesday, July 15th, at 3 o'clock, the house was attacked by a mob with
showers of bricks and stones. In one of the rooms was a woman with a
child but three days old. The rioters broke open the door with axes and
rushed in. Nichols and his mother fled to the basement; in a few moments
the babe referred to was dashed by the rioters from the upper window to
the yard, and instantly killed. The mob cut the waterpipes above, and
the basement was being deluged; ten persons, mostly women and children,
were there, and they fled to the yard; in attempting to climb the fence,
Mrs. Staat fell back from exhaustion; the rioters were instantly upon
her; her son sprang to her rescue, exclaiming, "Save my mother, if you
kill me." Two ruffians instantly seized him, each taking hold of an arm,
while a third, armed with a crowbar, calling upon them to hold his arms
apart, deliberately struck him a savage blow on the head, felling him
like a bullock. He died in the N. Y. Hospital two days after.

JAMES COSTELLO ().--James Costello, No. 97 West Thirty-third
Street, killed on Tuesday morning, July 14th. Costello was a shoemaker,
an active man in his business, industrious and sober. He went out early
in the morning upon an errand, was accosted, and finally was pursued by
a powerful man. He ran down the street; endeavored to make his escape;
was nearly overtaken by his pursuer; in self-defence he turned and shot
the rioter with a revolver. The shot proved to be mortal; he died two
days after. Costello was immediately set upon by the mob. They first
mangled his body, then hanged it. They then cut down his body and
dragged it through the gutters, smashing it with stones, and finally
burnt it. The mob then attempted to kill Mrs. Costello and her children,
but she escaped by climbing fences and taking refuge in a police
station-house.

ABRAHAM FRANKLIN ().--This young man, who was murdered by the mob
on the corner of Twenty-seventh Street and Seventh Avenue, was a quiet,
inoffensive man, of unexceptionable character. He was a <DW36>, but
supported himself and his mother, being employed as a coachman. A
short time previous to the assault, he called upon his mother to see
if anything could be done by him for her safety. The old lady said she
considered herself perfectly safe; but if her time to die had come, she
was ready to die. Her son then knelt down by her side, and implored the
protection of Heaven in behalf of his mother. The old lady said that it
seemed to her that good angels were present in the room. Scarcely had
the supplicant risen from his knees, when the mob broke down the door,
seized him, beat him over the head and face with fists and clubs, and
then hanged him in the presence of his parent. While they were thus
engaged, the military came and drove them away, cutting down the body of
Franklin, who raised his arm once slightly and gave a few signs of life.
The military then moved on to quell other riots, when the mob returned
and again suspended the now probably lifeless body of Franklin, cutting
out pieces of flesh, and otherwise shockingly mutilating it.

AUGUSTUS STUART ().--Died at Hospital, Blackwell's Island, July
22, from the effects of a blow received at the hands of the mob, on
Wednesday evening of the Riot Week. He had been badly beaten previously
by a band of rioters, and was frightened and insane from the effects
of the blows which he had received. He was running toward the arsenal
(State), Seventh Avenue and Thirty-seventh Street, for safety, when he
was overtaken by the mob, from whom he received his death-blow.

PETER HEUSTON.--Peter Heuston, sixty-three years of age, a Mohawk
Indian, dark complexion, but straight hair, and for several years a
resident of New York, proved a victim to the riots. Heuston served with
the New York Volunteers in the Mexican war. He was brutally attacked
and shockingly beaten, on the 13th of July, by a gang of ruffians, who
thought him to be of the African race because of his dark complexion. He
died within four days, at Bellevue Hospital, from his injuries.

JEREMIAH ROBINSON ().--He was killed in Madison near Catharine
Street. His widow stated that her husband, in order to escape, dressed
himself in some of her clothes, and, in company with herself and one
other woman, left their residence and went toward one of the Brooklyn
ferries. Robinson wore a hood, which failed to hide his beard. Some
boys, seeing his beard, lifted up the skirts of his dress, which exposed
his heavy boots. Immediately the mob set upon him, and the atrocities
they perpetrated are so revolting that they are unfit for publication.
They finally killed him and threw his body into the river. His wife and
her companion ran up Madison Street, and escaped across the Grand Street
Ferry to Brooklyn.

WILLIAM JONES ().--A crowd of rioters in Clarkson Street, in
pursuit of a <DW64>, who in self-defence had fired on some rowdies, met
an inoffensive <DW52> man returning from a bakery with a loaf of bread
under his arm. They instantly set upon and beat him and, after nearly
killing him, hung him to a lamppost. His body was left suspended for
several hours. A fire was made underneath him, and he was literally
roasted as he hung, the mob revelling in their demoniac act. Recognition
of the remains, on their being recovered, was impossible; and two women,
mourned for upwards of two weeks, in the case of this man, for the loss
of their husbands. At the end of that time, the husband of one of the
mourners, to her great joy, returned like one recovered from the grave.
The principal evidence which the widow, Mary Jones, had to identify the
murdered man as her husband, was the fact of his having a loaf of bread
under his arm, he having left the house to get a loaf of bread a few
minutes before the attack.

JOSEPH REED ().--This was a lad of seven years of age, residing
at No. 147 East Twenty-eighth Street, with an aged grandmother and
widowed mother. On Wednesday morning of the fearful week, a crowd of
ruffians gathered in the neighborhood, determined on a week of plunder
and death. They attacked the house, stole everything they could carry
with them, and, after threatening the inmates, set fire to it. The
<DW52> people who had the sole occupancy of the building, fled in
confusion into the midst of the gathering crowd. And then the child was
separated from his guardians. His youth and evident illness, even from
the devils around him, it would be thought, should have insured
his safety. But no sooner did they see his unprotected, defenceless
condition, than a gang of fiendish men seized him, beat him with sticks,
and bruised him with heavy cobblestones. But one, tenfold more the
servant of Satan than the rest, rushed at the child, and with the stock
of a pistol struck him on the temple and felled him to the ground.
A noble young fireman, by the name of John F. Govern, of No. 39 Hose
Company, instantly came to the rescue, and, single-handed, held the
crowd at bay. Taking the wounded and unconscious boy in his arms, he
carried him to a place of safety. The terrible beating and the great
fright the poor lad had undergone was too much for his feeble frame; he
died on the following Tuesday.

JOSEPH JACKSON (), aged nineteen years, living in West
Fifty-third Street, near Sixth Avenue, was in the industrious pursuit of
his humble occupation of gathering provender for a herd of cattle, and
when near the foot of Thirty-fourth Street, East River, July 15, was set
upon by the mob, killed, and his body thrown into the river.

SAMUEL JOHNSON ().--On Tuesday night Johnson was attacked near
Fulton Ferry by a gang who mercilessly beat and left him for dead. A
proposition was made to throw him into the river, but for some reason
the murderers took fright and fled. He was taken by some citizens to his
home, and died the next day.

---- WILLIAMS ().--He was attacked on the corner of Le Roy and
Washington Streets, on Tuesday morning, July 14th, knocked down,
a number of men jumped upon, kicked, and stamped upon him until
insensible. One of the murderers knelt on the body and drove a knife
into it; the blade being too small, he threw it away and resorted to
his fists. Another seized a huge stone, weighing near twenty pounds,
and deliberately crushed it again and again on to the victim. A force
of police, under Captain Dickson, arrived and rescued the man, who
was conveyed to the New York Hospital. He was only able to articulate
"Williams" in response to a question as to his name, and remained
insensible thereafter, dying in a few days.

ANN DERRICKSON.--This was a white woman, the wife of a <DW52> man, and
lived at No. 11 York Street. On Wednesday, July 15th, the rioters seized
a son of deceased, a lad of about twelve years, saturated his clothes
and hair with camphene, and then procuring a rope, fastened one end to a
lamp-post, the other around his neck, and were about to set him on fire,
and hang him; they were interfered with by some citizens and by the
police of the First Ward, and their diabolical attempt at murder
frustrated. While Mrs. Derrickson was attempting to save the life of her
son she was horribly bruised and beaten, with a cart-rung. The victim,
after lingering three or four weeks, died from the effects of her
injuries.

Reports from the captains of the several precincts, with all the details
of their operations, were made out--also from the subordinate military
officers to their immediate superiors. The final reports of General
Wool, commanding the Eastern Department, and Major-general Sandford,
commanding the city troops, caused much remark in the city papers, and
called forth a reply from General Brown, who considered himself unjustly
assailed in them. Explanation of the disagreement between him and
General Wool having been fully given, it is not necessary to repeat it
here. The same may be said of the statement of General Wool, regarding
his orders on Monday the 13th, respecting the troops in the harbor.
But in this report of General Wool to Governor Seymour, there are other
statements which General Brown felt it his duty to correct. General Wool
says, that finding there was a want of harmony between Generals Sandford
and Brown in the disposition of troops, he issued the following order:

MAJOR-GENERAL SANDFORD, BREVET BRIGADIER-GENERAL BROWN.

GENTLEMEN:--It is indispensable to collect your troops not stationed,
and have them divided into suitable parties, with a due proportion of
police to each, and to patrol in such parts of the city as may be in
the greatest danger from the rioters. This ought to be done as soon as
practicable.

JOHN E. WOOL, _Major-general_.

After this had been issued, General Sandford reporting to me that his
orders were not obeyed by General Brown, I issued the following order:

"All the troops called out for the protection of the city are placed
under the command of General Sandford."

General Brown in his reply says, that he "_never saw or heard of
this first order_." The only explanation of this, consistent with the
character of both, is that General Wool sent this order to General
Sandford alone--either forgetting to transmit it to General Brown, or
expecting General Sandford to do it.

At all events, sent or not, it was a foolish order. One would infer
from it that the whole task of putting down the riots belonged to the
military, the commanders of which were to order out what co-operating
force of police they deemed necessary and march up and down the
disaffected districts, trampling out the lawlessness according to rule.
This might be all well enough, but the question was, how were these
troops, strangers to the city, to find out where "_such parts of the
city_" were in which was "_the greatest danger from the rioters_?" It
showed a lamentable ignorance of mobs; they don't stay in one spot and
fight it out, nor keep in one mass, nor give notice beforehand where
they will strike next. Such knowledge could only be obtained from police
head-quarters, the focus of the telegraph system, and _there_ the troops
should have been ordered to concentrate at once, and put themselves
under the direction of the Police Commissioners. Again, General Wool
says he issued the following order to General Brown, on Tuesday:

"SIR:--It is reported that the rioters have already recommenced their
work of destruction. To-day there must be no child's play. Some of the
troops under your command should be sent immediately to attack and
stop those who have commenced their infernal rascality in Yorkville and
Harlem."

This order, too, General Brown says he never received. Thinking
it strange, he addressed a note to General Wool's assistant
adjutant-general, respecting both these orders, which had thus strangely
wandered out of the way. The latter, Major Christensen, replied as
follows:

"The orders of General Wool published in his report to Governor Seymour,
viz.: 'That patrols of military and police should be sent through the
disaffected districts;' and the one July 14th, 'To-day there must be no
child's play,' etc., were not issued by me, and I cannot therefore say
whether copies were sent to you or not. They were certainly _not_ sent
by me.

"C.F. CHRISTENSEN,

"Major, Assistant Adjutant-general."

We have explained how the error may have occurred with regard to the
first order. But there is no explanation of this, except on the ground
that General Wool perhaps sketched out this order, without sending it,
and afterwards seeing it amid his papers, thought it was a copy of one
he had sent. He was well advanced in years, and might easily fall into
some such error.

It is not necessary to go into detailed account of all the statements
contained in General Wool's letter which General Brown emphatically
denies; but the following is worthy of notice. He says that General
Brown issued orders that General Sandford countermanded, and that
General Brown acted through the riots under his (Wool's) orders; whereas
the latter says, he never received but three orders from Wool during the
whole time, and only _one_ of those referred to any action towards the
rioters, and that was to bring off some killed and wounded men left by
a military force sent out either by Sandford or Wool, and which had been
chased from the field by the mob.

But the statements of General Wool are entirely thrown into the shade
by the following assertion of General Sandford, in his report. He says:
"With the remnant of the [his] division (left in the city), and the
first reinforcements from General Wool, detachments were sent to all
parts of the city, and the rioters everywhere beaten and dispersed on
Monday afternoon, Monday night, and Tuesday morning. In a few hours, but
for the interference of Brigadier-general Brown, who, in disobedience of
orders," etc.

The perfect gravity with which this assertion is made is something
marvellous. One would infer that the police was of no account, except
to maintain order after it was fully restored by the military on Tuesday
morning. General Sandford might well be ignorant of the state of things
in the city, for he was cooped up in the arsenal, intent only on holding
his fortress. So far as he was concerned, the whole city might have
been burned up before Tuesday noon, and he would scarcely have known it,
except as he saw the smoke and flames from the roof of the arsenal. He
never sent out a detachment until after the Tuesday afternoon, when,
as he says, but for General Brown's action, the riot would have been
virtually over. The simple truth is, these reports of Generals Wool and
Sandford are both mere after-thoughts, growing out of the annoyance they
felt on knowing that their _martinetism_ was a total failure, and the
whole work had been done by General Brown and the Police Commissioners
from their head-quarters in Mulberry Street. Acton and Brown had no time
to grumble or dispute about etiquette. They had something more serious
on hand, and they bent their entire energies to their accomplishment.
General Sandford held the arsenal, an important point, indeed a vital
one, and let him claim and receive all the credit due that achievement;
but to assume any special merit in quelling the riots in the streets
is simply ridiculous. That was the work of the police and the military
under the commissioners and General Brown.

The statement of the Police Commissioners, Acton and Bergen, on this
point is conclusive. They say that General Sandford's error consisted
in "not choosing to be in close communication with this department, when
alone through the police telegraph, and other certain means, trustworthy
information of the movements of the mob could be promptly had."

That single statement is enough to overthrow all of General Sandford's
assertions about the riot. It was hardly necessary for them to declare
further in their letter to General Brown:

"So far from your action having had the effect supposed by General
Sandford, we are of the opinion, already expressed in our address to
the police force, that through your prompt, vigorous, and intelligent
action, the intrepidity and steady valor of the small military force
under you, acting with the police force, the riotous proceedings were
arrested on Thursday night, and that without such aid mob violence would
have continued much longer."

WELL-EARNED PRAISE.

On the week after the riot the Board of Police Commissioners issued the
following address to the force, in which a well-earned tribute is paid
to the military:

_To the Metropolitan Police Force._

On the morning of Monday, the 13th inst., the peace and good order of
the city were broken by a mob collected in several quarters of the city,
for the avowed purpose of resisting the process of drafting names to
recruit the armies of the Union.

Vast crowds of men collected and fired the offices where drafting was in
progress, beating and driving the officers from duty.

From the beginning, these violent proceedings were accompanied by arson,
robbery, and murder.

Private property, unofficial persons of all ages, sexes, and conditions,
were indiscriminately assailed--none were spared, except those who were
supposed by the mob to sympathize with their proceedings.

Early in the day the Superintendent was assaulted, cruelly beaten,
robbed, and disabled by the mob which was engaged in burning the provost
marshal's office in Third Avenue, thus in a manner disarranging the
organization at the Central Department, throwing new, unwonted, and
responsible duties upon the Board.

At this juncture the telegraph wires of the department were cut, and the
movement of the railroads and stages violently interrupted, interfering
seriously with our accustomed means of transmitting orders and
concentrating forces.

The militia of the city were absent at the seat of war, fighting the
battles of the nation against treason and secession, and there was no
adequate force in the city for the first twelve hours to resist at all
points the vast and infuriated mob. The police force was not strong
enough in any precinct to make head, unaided, against the overwhelming
force. No course was left but to concentrate the whole force at the
Central Department, and thence send detachments able to encounter and
conquer the rioters. This course was promptly adopted on Monday morning.
The military were called upon to act in aid of the civil force to subdue
the treasonable mob, protect life and property, and restore public
order.

Under such, adverse circumstances you were called upon to encounter a
mob of such strength as have never before been seen, in this country.
The force of militia under General Sandford, who were called into
service by the authority of this Board, were concentrated by him at and
held the arsenal in Seventh Avenue, throughout the contest. The military
forces in command of Brevet Brigadier-general Harvey Brown reported
at the Central Department, and there General Brown established his
head-quarters, and from there expeditions, combined of police and
military force, were sent out that in all cases conquered, defeated, or
dispersed the mob force, and subjected them to severe chastisement. In
no instance did these detachments from the Central Department, whether
of police alone or police and military combined, meet with defeat or
serious check.

In all cases they achieved prompt and decisive victories. The contest
continued through Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and till 11
o'clock on Thursday night, like a continuous battle, when it ended by a
total and sanguinary rout of the insurgents.

During the whole of those anxious days and nights, Brigadier-general
Brown remained at the Central Department, ordering the movements of the
military in carefully considered combinations with the police force, and
throughout the struggle, and until its close, commanded the admiration
and gratitude of the Police Department and all who witnessed his firm
intelligence and soldierly conduct.

It is understood that he had at no time under his immediate command more
than three hundred troops, but they were of the highest order, and were
commanded by officers of courage and ability. They cordially acted
with, supported, and were supported by, the police, and victory in
every contest against fearful odds, was the result of brave fighting and
intelligent command.

In the judgment of this Board, the escape of the city from the power
of an infuriated mob is due to the aid furnished the police by
Brigadier-general Brown and the small military force under his command.
No one can doubt, who saw him, as we did, that during those anxious and
eventful days and nights Brigadier-general Harvey Brown was equal to the
situation, and was the right man in the right place.

We avail ourselves of this occasion to tender to him, in the most
earnest and public manner, the thanks of the department and our own.

To the soldiers under his command we are grateful as to brave men
who perilled all to save the city from a reign of terror. To Captains
Putnam, Franklin, and Shelley, Lieutenant Ryer, and Lieutenant-colonel
Berens, officers of corps under the command of Brigadier-general Brown,
we are especially indebted, and we only discharge a duty when we commend
them to their superiors in rank and to the War Department for their
courageous and effective service.

Of the Inspectors, Captains, and Sergeants of police who led parties in
the fearful contest, we are proud to say that none faltered or failed.
Each was equal to the hour and the emergency. Not one failed to overcome
the danger, however imminent, or to defeat the enemy, however numerous.
Especial commendation is due to Drill-sergeant Copeland for his most
valuable aid in commanding the movements of larger detachments of the
police.

The patrolmen who were on duty fought through the numerous and fierce
conflicts with the steady courage of veteran soldiers, and have won, as
they deserve, the highest commendations from the public and from this
Board. In their ranks there was neither faltering nor straggling.
Devotion to duty and courage in the performance of it were universal.

The public and the department owe a debt of gratitude to the citizens
who voluntarily became special patrolmen, some three thousand of whom,
for several days and nights, did regular patrolmen's duty with great
effect.

In the name of the public, and of the department in which they were
volunteers, we thank them.

Mr. Crowley, the superintendent of the police telegraph, and the
attaches of his department, by untiring and sleepless vigilance in
transmitting information by telegraph unceasingly through more than ten
days and nights, have more than sustained the high reputation they have
always possessed.

Through all these bloody contests, through all the wearing fatigue and
wasting labor, you have demeaned yourselves like worthy members of the
Metropolitan Police.

The public judgment will commend and reward you. A kind Providence
has permitted you to escape with less casualties than could have been
expected. You have lost one comrade, whom you have buried with honor.
Your wounded will, it is hoped, all recover, to join you and share
honor. It is hoped that the severe but just chastisement which has been
inflicted upon those guilty of riot, pillage, arson, and murder,
will deter further attempts of that character. But if, arising out of
political or other causes, there should be another attempt to interrupt
public order, we shall call on you again to crush its authors, confident
that you will respond like brave men, as you ever have, to the calls of
duty; and in future, whenever the attempt may be made, you will have to
aid you large forces of military, ably commanded, and thus be enabled to
crush in the bud any attempted riot or revolution.

To General Canby, who, on the morning of Friday, the 17th inst., took
command of the military, relieving Brigadier-general Brown, and to Gen.
Dix, who succeeded General Wool, the public are indebted for prompt,
vigorous, and willing aid to the police force in all the expeditions
which have been called for since they assumed their commands. Charged
particularly with the protection of the immense amount of Federal
property and interests in the Metropolitan district, and the police
force charged with the maintenance of public order, the duties of the
two forces are always coincident.

Whatever menaces or disturbs one equally menaces and disturbs the other.

We are happy to know that at all times the several authorities have
co-operated with that concert and harmony which is necessary to secure
vigor and efficiency in action.

Sergeant Young, of the detective force, aided by Mr. Newcomb and other
special patrolmen, rendered most effective service in arranging the
commissary supplies for the large number of police, military, special
patrolmen, and destitute  refugees, whose subsistence was thrown
unexpectedly on the department. The duty was arduous and responsible,
and was performed with vigor and fidelity. All the clerks of the
department, each in his sphere, performed a manly share of the heavy
duties growing out of these extraordinary circumstances. The Central
Department became a home of refuge for large numbers of poor, persecuted
<DW52> men, women, and children, many of whom were wounded and sick,
and all of whom were helpless, exposed, and poor. Mr. John H. Keyser,
with his accustomed philanthropy, volunteered, and was appointed to
superintend these wretched victims of violence and prejudice, and has
devoted unwearied days to the duty. The pitiable condition of these poor
people appeals in the strongest terms to the Christian charity of the
benevolent and humane. The members of the force will do an acceptable
service by calling the attention to their condition of those who are
able and willing to contribute in charity to their relief.



CHAPTER XXI.


ORANGE RIOTS OF 1870 AND 1871.

Religious Toleration.--Irish Feuds.--Battle of Boyne
Water.--Orangemen.--Origin and Object of the Society.--A Picnic at Elm
Park.--Attacked by the Ribbonmen.--The Fight.--After Scenes.--Riot
of 1871.--Conspiracy of the Irish Catholics to prevent a Parade of
Orangemen.--Forbidden by the City Authorities.--Indignation of
the People.--Meeting in the Produce Exchange.--Governor Hoffman's
Proclamation.--Morning of the 12th.--The Orangemen at Lamartine
Hall.--Attack on the Armories.--The Harpers threatened.--Exciting
Scenes around Lamartine Hall and at Police Head-quarters.--Hibernia
Hall cleared.--Attack on an Armory.--Formation of the Procession.--Its
March.--Attacked.--Firing of the Military without Orders.--Terrific
Scene.--The Hospitals and Morgue.--Night Scenes.--Number of killed and
wounded.--The Lesson.

In a free country like ours, where toleration of all religions alike is
one of the fundamental principles of the Government, one would naturally
think that open persecution of any sect or body of religionists was
impossible. But the Irish, unfortunately, have brought with them to this
country not merely many of their old customs and national fetes, but
their old religions feuds.

Nearly two hundred years ago, William of Nassau, Prince of Orange,
or William the Third, a Protestant, met the Catholic King, James the
Second, of England, In deadly battle, in the vales of Meath, through
which the Boyne River flows, and utterly routed him, and compelled him
to flee to the Continent for safety. According to old style, this was on
the first day of July, as the old ballad says:

  "'Twas bright July's first morning clear,
    Of unforgotten glory,
    That made this stream, through ages dear,
  Renowned in song and story."

According to new style, however, this has become the twelfth of the
month. The Ulster Protestant Society, known as Orangemen, was founded
in 1795. It was a secret political organization, founded, it is said, to
counteract the Ribbonmen, or Protectors, as they were called. Its object
in this country, it is asserted, is entirely different, and more in
harmony with other societies that have their annual celebration in New
York City and other places.

It is not necessary to go over the bitter feuds between these and
the Catholic Irish in the old country. The hates they engendered were
brought here, but kept from any great outward manifestation, because the
Orangemen indulged in no public displays. We believe that there had been
only one procession previous to this. In this year, however, an imposing
display was resolved upon, but no trouble was anticipated, and no
precautions taken by the police. It was not proposed to parade the
streets, but to form, and march in procession up Eighth Avenue, to Elm
Park, corner of Ninetieth Street and Eighth Avenue, and have a picnic,
and wind up with a dance. As the procession passed Fourth Street, in
full Orange regalia, and about twenty-five hundred strong (men, women,
and children), playing "Boyne Water," "Derry," and other tunes obnoxious
to the Catholics, some two hundred Irishmen followed it with curses and
threats.

Violence was, however, not feared, and the procession continued on, and
at length reached the new Boulevard road, where a large body of Irishmen
were at work. Beyond, however, the interchange of some words, nothing
transpired, and it entered the park, and began the festivities of the
day.

In the meanwhile, however, the rabble that had followed them came upon
the Ribbonmen at work on the Boulevard road, and persuaded them to throw
up work and join them, and the whole crowd, numbering probably about
five hundred, started for the park. The foreman of the gang of three
hundred workmen saw at once the danger, and hurried to the Thirty-first
Precinct station, corner of One Hundredth Street and Ninth Avenue, and
told Captain Helme of the state of things.

The latter immediately thought of the picnic, and, anticipating trouble,
telegraphed to Jourdan for reinforcements. In the meanwhile, the mob,
loaded with stones, advanced tumultuously towards the park, within
which the unsuspecting Orangemen were giving themselves up to enjoyment.
Suddenly a shower of stones fell among them, knocking over women and
children, and sending consternation through the crowd. Shouts and curses
followed, and the Orangemen, rallying, rushed out and fell furiously
on their assailants. Shovels, clubs, and stones were freely used, and
a scene of terrific confusion followed. The fight was close and bloody,
and continued for nearly half an hour, when Sergeant John Kelly, with
a force of sixteen men, arrived, and rushing in between the combatants,
separated them, and drove the Orangemen back into the park. The mob then
divided into two portions, of between two and three hundred each. One
party went by way of Ninth Avenue, and, breaking down the fence on that
side, entered the park, and fell with brutal fury on men, women, and
children alike. A terrible fight followed, and amid the shouts and
oaths of the men and screams of the women and children, occasional
pistol-shots were heard, showing that murder was being done. The
enraged, unarmed Orangemen, wrenched hand rails from the fence, tore up
small trees, and seized anything and everything that would serve for a
weapon, and maintained the fight for a half an hour, before the police
arrived. The second portion went by Eighth Avenue, and intercepted
a large body of Orangemen that had retreated from the woods, and a
desperate battle followed. There were only two policemen here, and of
course could do nothing but stand and look on the murderous conflict.
In the meantime, the force telegraphed for by Captain. Helme arrived. It
consisted of twenty men, to which Captain Helme added the reserve
force, with a sergeant from the Eighth, Ninth, Fifteenth, Sixteenth,
and Nineteenth Precincts, making in all some fifty men. These he divided
into two portions, one of which he sent over to Eighth Avenue to protect
the cars, into which the fugitives were crowding, while the other dashed
furiously into the park, and fell on the combatants with their clubs.
They soon cleared a lane between them, when turning on the Ribbonmen,
they drove them out of the park. They then formed the Orangemen into
a procession, and escorted them down the city. A portion, however, had
fled for the Eighth Avenue cars; but a party of Ribbonmen were lying in
wait here, and another fight followed. Huge stones were thrown through
the windows of the cars, the sides broken in, over the wreck of which
the mob rushed, knocking down men, women, and children alike, whose
shouts, and oaths, and screams could be heard blocks off. The scene was
terrific, until the arrival of the police put an end to it, and bore the
dead and wounded away.

About seven o'clock, Superintendent Jourdan arrived in the precinct,
accompanied by Inspectors Dilks and Walling, and Detectives Farley and
Avery. In the basement of the Thirty-first Precinct station, on a low
trestle bed, three bloody corpses were stretched, while the neighboring
precincts were filled with the wounded. Two more died before morning.
The street near each station was crowded with Orangemen inquiring after
friends.

Although no more outbreaks occurred, the most intense excitement
prevailed among the Irish population of the city, and it was evident
that it needed only a suitable occasion to bring on another conflict.

THE RIOT OF 1871.

When the next anniversary of the Orangemen came round, it was discovered
that a conspiracy had been formed by a large body of the Catholic
population to prevent its public celebration. The air was full of
rumors, while the city authorities were in possession of the fullest
evidence that if the Orangemen paraded, they would be attacked, and
probably many lives be lost. They were in great dilemma as to what
course to pursue. If they allowed the procession to take place, they
would be compelled to protect it, and shoot down the men whose votes
helped largely to place them in power. If they forbade it, they feared
the public indignation that would be aroused against such a truckling,
unjust course. As the day drew near, however, and the extensive
preparations of the Irish Catholics became more apparent, they
finally determined to risk the latter course, and it was decided that
Superintendent Kelso should issue an order forbidding the Orangemen to
parade. This ludicrous attempt on the part of the Mayor to shift the
responsibility from his own shoulders, awakened only scorn, and the
appearance of the order was followed by a storm of indignation that was
appalling. The leading papers, without regard to politics, opened on him
and his advisers, with such a torrent of denunciations that they quailed
before it. Processions of all kinds and nationalities were allowed
on the streets, and to forbid only one, and that because it was
_Protestant_, was an insult to every American citizen. Even Wall Street
forgot its usual excitement, and leading men were heard violently
denouncing this cowardly surrender of Mayor Hall to the threats of a
mob. An impromptu meeting was called in the Produce Exchange, and a
petition drawn up, asking the president to call a formal meeting, and
excited men stood in line two hours, waiting their turn to sign it.
The building was thronged, and the vice-president called the meeting to
order, and informed it that the rules required twenty-four hours' notice
for such a meeting. The members, however, would listen to no delay, and
with an unanimous and thundering vote, declared the rules suspended. The
action of the city authorities was denounced in withering terms, and a
committee of leading men appointed to wait on them, and remonstrate with
the Mayor. One could scarcely have dreamed that this order would stir
New York so profoundly. But the people, peculiarly sensitive to any
attack on religious freedom, were the more fiercely aroused, that in
this case it was a Catholic mob using the city authority to strike
down Protestantism. The Mayor and his subordinates were appalled at the
tempest they had raised, and calling a council, resolved to revoke the
order. In the meantime, Governor Hoffman was telegraphed to from Albany.
Hastening to the city, he, after a consultation with Mayor Hall, decided
to issue the following proclamation:

"Having been only this day apprised, while at the capital, of the
actual condition of things here, with reference to proposed processions
to-morrow, and having, in the belief that my presence was needed,
repaired hither immediately, I do make this proclamation:

"The order heretofore issued by the police authorities, in reference to
said processions, being duly revoked, I hereby give notice that any
and all bodies of men desiring to assemble in peaceable procession
to-morrow, the 12th inst., will be permitted to do so. They will be
protected to the fullest extent possible by the military and police
authorities. A police and military escort will be furnished to any body
of men desiring it, on application to me at my head-quarters (which will
be at police head-quarters in this city) at any time during the day. I
warn all persons to abstain from interference with any such assembly or
procession, except by authority from me; and I give notice that all the
powers of my command, civil and military, will be used to preserve
the public peace, and put down at all hazards, every attempt at
disturbances; and I call upon all citizens, of every race and religion,
to unite with me and the local authorities in this determination, to
preserve the peace and honor of the city and State."

Dated at New York, this eleventh day of July, A. D. 1871. JOHN T.
HOFFMAN.

It was thought by many that this would counteract the effects of the
cowardly order of the police superintendent. But whatever its effect
might have been, had it been issued earlier, it now came too late to
do any good. The preparations of the Roman Catholics were all made. A
secret circular had fallen into the hands of the police, showing that
the organization of the rioters was complete-the watchwords and signals
all arranged, and even the points designated where the attacks on the
procession were to be made. Arms had been collected and transported
to certain localities, and everything betokened a stormy morrow.
Consequently, General Shaler issued orders to the commanders of the
several regiments of militia, directing them to have their men in
readiness at their respective armories at 7 o'clock next morning,
prepared to march at a moment's warning. His head-quarters, like those
of General Brown in the draft riots, were at the police head-quarters,
so as to have the use of the police telegraph, in conveying orders to
different sections of the city. Meanwhile, detachments were placed on
guard at the different armories, to frustrate any attempt on the part of
the mob to seize arms.

The night, however, wore quietly away, and in the morning the Governor's
proclamation appeared in the morning papers, showing the rioters the
nature of the work before them, if they undertook to carry out their
infamous plans. It seemed to have no effect, however. Early in the
morning sullen groups of Irishmen gathered on the corners of the
streets, where the Irish resided in greatest numbers, among which were
women, gesticulating and talking violently, apparently wholly unaware
that the authorities had any power, or, at least, thought they dared
not use it. Other groups traversed the streets, while at the several
rendezvous of the Hibernians, many carried muskets or rifles without any
attempt at concealment. In the upper part of the city, a body of rioters
began to move southward, compelling all the workmen on their way to
leave work and join them. One or two armories were attacked, but the
rioters were easily repulsed. The demonstrations at length became so
threatening, that by ten o'clock the police seized Hibernia Hall.

About the same time, the Orangemen--who on the issue of Kelso's order
had determined not to parade but on the appearance of the Governor's
proclamation changed their mind--began to assemble at Lamartine Hall, on
the corner of Eighth Avenue and Twenty-ninth Street. Their room was in
the fourth story, and the delegates from the various lodges brought with
them their badges and banners, which they displayed from the windows.
This brought a crowd in front of the building, curious to know what was
going on in the lodge room. Soon five hundred policemen, ten or fifteen
of them on horseback, appeared under the command of Inspectors Walling
and Jamieson, and occupied both sides of Twenty-ninth Street, between
Eighth and Ninth Avenues. Several policemen also stood on Eighth Avenue,
while the door of the hall was guarded by others. Inside the hall there
were probably some seventy-five or a hundred Orangemen, discussing the
parade. Some stated that a great many, concluding there would be none,
had gone to their usual work, while others, alarmed at the threats of
the Hibernians, would not join it. But after some discussion, it was
resolved, that although the number would be small, they would parade
at all hazards; and at eleven o'clock the door was thrown open, and
the Orangemen, wearing orange colors, were admitted, amid the wildest
cheering. An invitation was sent to the lodges of Jersey City to join
them, but they declined, preferring to celebrate the day at home.

Two o'clock was the hour fixed upon for the parade to begin, and the
authorities at police head-quarters were so advised. In the meantime a
banner had been prepared on which was inscribed in large letters,

"AMERICANS! FREEMEN!! FALL IN!!!"

in order to get accessions from outsiders, but without success.

The line of march finally resolved upon was down Eighth Avenue to
Twenty-third Street, and up it to Fifth Avenue, down Fifth Avenue to
Fourteenth Street, along it to Union Square, saluting the Lincoln and
Washington statues as they passed, and then down Fourth Avenue to Cooper
Institute, where the procession would break up.

About one o'clock, a party of men came rushing down Eighth Avenue,
opposite Lamartine Hall, cheering and shouting, led by a man waving a
sword cane. As he swung it above his head it parted, disclosing a long
dirk. The police immediately advanced and swept the street. Eighth
Avenue was cleared from Thirtieth Street to Twenty-eighth Street, and
the police formed several deep, leaving only room enough for the cars to
pass.

In the meantime, around police head-quarters, in Mott Street, things
wore a serious aspect. From six o'clock in the morning, the various
detachments of police kept arriving until Bleecker, Houston, Mulberry,
and Mott Streets were dark with the massed battalions, ready to move at
a moment's notice. Rations were served out to them standing. Early in
the day, Governor Hoffman and staff arrived, and were quartered in the
Superintendent's room, while General Shaler and staff were quartered in
the fire marshal's office. Commissioners Manierre, Smith, and Barr were
in their own rooms, receiving reports from the various precincts
over the wires. A little after nine a dispatch came, stating that the
quarrymen near Central Park had quitted work, and were gathering
in excited groups, swearing that the Orangemen should not parade.
Immediately Inspector Jamieson, with two hundred and fifty policemen,
was despatched in stages to Forty-seventh Street and Eighth Avenue, to
watch the course of events. Another dispatch stated that an attack
was threatened on Harper's building, in Franklin Square, and Captain
Allaire, of the Seventh Precinct, was hurried off with fifty men
to protect it. A little later came the news that the Orangemen had
determined to parade at two o'clock, and a police force of five hundred,
as we have already stated, were massed in Eighth Avenue, opposite
Lamartine Hall. About noon, a body of rioters made an attack on the
armory, No. 19 Avenue A, in which were a hundred and thirty-eight stands
of arms. Fortunately, the janitor of the building saw them in time to
fasten the doors before they reached it, and then ran to the
nearest police-station for help, from which a dispatch was sent to
head-quarters. Captain Mount, with a hundred policemen, was hurried off
to the threatened point. He arrived, before the doors were broken in,
and falling on the rioters with clubs, drove them in all directions.
During the forenoon, Drill-captain Copeland was given five Companies,
and told to seize Hibernia Hall, where arms were being distributed. As
he approached, he ordered the mob to disperse, but was answered with
taunts and curses, while the women hurled stones at his face. He then
gave the order to charge, when the men fell on the crowd with such fury,
that they broke and fled in wild confusion. Meanwhile, the detectives
had been busy, and secured eighteen of the ring-leaders, whom they
marched to police head-quarters.

As the hour for the procession to form drew near, the most intense
excitement prevailed at police head-quarters, and the telegraph was
watched with anxious solicitude. The terrible punishment inflicted on
the rioters in 1863 seemed to have been forgotten by the mob, and it
had evidently resolved to try once more its strength with the city
authorities. Around the Orange head-quarters a still deeper excitement
prevailed. The hum of the vast multitude seemed like the first
murmurings of the coming storm, and many a face turned pale as the
Orangemen, with their banners and badges, only ninety in all, passed out
of the door into the street. John Johnston, their marshal, mounted on
a spirited horse, placed himself at their head. In a few minutes, the
bayonets of the military force designed to act as an escort could
be seen flashing in the sun, as the troops with measured tread moved
steadily forward. Crowds followed them on the sidewalks, or hung from
windows and house-tops, while low curses could be heard on every side,
especially when the Twenty-second Regiment deliberately loaded their
pieces with ball and cartridge. The little band of Orangemen looked
serious but firm, while the military officers showed by their
preparations and order that they expected bloody work. The Orangemen
formed line in Twenty-ninth Street, close to the Eighth Avenue, and
flung their banners to the breeze. A half an hour later, they were ready
to march, and at the order wheeled into Eighth Avenue. At that instant a
single shot rang out but a few rods distant. Heads were turned anxiously
to see who was hit. More was expected as the procession moved on. A
strong body of police marched in advance. Next came the Ninth Regiment,
followed at a short interval by the Sixth. Then came more police,
followed by the little band of Orangemen, flanked on either side, so as
fully to protect them, by the Twenty-second and Eighty-fourth Regiments.
To these succeeded more police. The imposing column was closed up by
the Seventh Regiment, arresting all eyes by its even tread and martial
bearing. The sidewalks, doorsteps, windows, and roofs were black with
people. The band struck up a martial air, and the procession moved on
towards Twenty-eighth Street. Just before they reached it, another shot
rang clear and sharp above the music. No one was seen to fall, and the
march continued. At the corner of Twenty-seventh Street, a group of
desperate-looking fellows were assembled on a wooden shed that projected
over the sidewalk. Warned to get down and go away, they hesitated, when
a company of soldiers levelled their pieces at them. Uttering defiant
threats, they hurried down and disappeared. As the next corner was
reached, another shot was fired, followed by a shower of stones. A scene
of confusion now ensued. The police fell on the bystanders occupying the
sidewalks, and clubbed them right and left without distinction, and the
order rolled down the line to the inmates of the houses to shut their
windows. Terror now took the place of curiosity; heads disappeared, and
the quick, fierce slamming of blinds was heard above the uproar blocks
away. The procession kept on till it reached Twenty-fourth Street,
when a halt was ordered. The next moment a shot was fired from the
second-story windows of a house on the north-east corner. It struck the
Eighty-fourth Regiment, and in an instant a line of muskets was pointed
at the spot, as though the order to fire was expected. One gun went off,
when, without orders, a sudden, unexpected volley rolled down the line
of the Sixth, Ninth, and Eighty-fourth Regiments. The officers were
wholly taken by surprise at this unprecedented conduct; but, recovering
themselves, rushed among the ranks and shouted out their orders to cease
firing. But the work was done; and as the smoke slowly lifted in the hot
atmosphere, a scene of indescribable confusion presented itself. Men,
women, and children, screaming in wild terror, were fleeing in every
direction; the strong trampling down the weak, while eleven corpses lay
stretched on the sidewalk, some piled across each other. A pause of a
few minutes now followed, while the troops reloaded their guns. A new
attack was momentarily expected, and no one moved from the ranks to
succor the wounded or lift up the dead. Here a dead woman lay across a
dead man; there a man streaming with blood was creeping painfully up a
doorstep, while crouching, bleeding forms appeared in every direction.
Women from the windows looked down on the ghastly spectacle,
gesticulating wildly. The police now cleared the avenue and side
streets, when, the dead and wounded were attended to, and the order
to move on was given. General Varian, indignant at the conduct of the
Eighty-fourth in firing first without orders, sent it to the rear, and
replaced it on the flank of the Orangemen with a portion of the
Ninth. The procession, as it now resumed its march and moved through
Twenty-fourth Street, was a sad and mournful one. The windows were
filled with spectators, and crowds lined the sidewalks, but all were
silent and serious. Not till it reached Fifth Avenue Hotel were
there any greetings of welcome. Here some three thousand people were
assembled, who rent the air with cheers. No more attacks were made, and
it reached Cooper Institute and disbanded without any further incident.

In the meantime, the scene at the Bellevue Hospital was a sad and
painful one. The ambulances kept discharging their bloody loads at the
door, and groans of distress and shrieks of pain filled the air. Long
rows of cots, filled with mangled forms, were stretched on every side,
while the tables were covered with bodies, held down, as the surgeons
dressed their wounds. The dead were carried to the Morgue, around which,
as night came on, a clamorous crowd was gathered, seeking admission, to
look after their dead friends. A similar crowd gathered at the door of
the Mount Sinai Hospital, filling the air with cries and lamentations.
As darkness settled over the city, wild, rough-looking men from the
lowest ranks of society gathered in the street where the slaughter took
place, among whom were seen bare-headed women roaming about, making
night hideous with their curses.

A pile of dead men's hats stood on the corner of Eighth Avenue and
Twenty-fifth Street untouched, and pale faces stooped over pools of
blood on the pavement. The stores were all shut; and everything wore
a gloomy aspect. The police stood near, revealed in the lamplight, but
made no effort to clear the street. It seemed at one time that a serious
outbreak would take place, but the night passed off quietly, and the
riot was ended, and the mob once more taught the terrible lesson it is
so apt to forget.

Two of the police and military were killed, and twenty-four wounded;
while of the rioters thirty-one were killed, and sixty-seven
wounded--making in all one hundred and twenty-eight victims.

There was much indignation expressed at the troops for firing without
orders, and firing so wildly as to shoot some of their own men. It was,
of course, deserving the deepest condemnation, yet it may have saved
greater bloodshed. The fight evidently did not occur at the expected
point, and doubtless the result here, prevented one where the mob was
better organized, and would have made a more stubborn resistance.

That innocent persons were killed is true; but if they will mingle in
with a mob, they must expect to share its fate, and alone must bear the
blame. Troops are called out to fire on the people if they persist in
violation of the peace and rights of the community. Of this all are
fully aware, and hence take the risk of being shot. Soldiers cannot be
expected to discriminate in a mob. If the military are not to fire on
a crowd of rioters until no women and children, can be seen in it, they
had better stay at home.

To a casual observer, this calling out of seven hundred policemen and
several regiments of soldiers, in order to let ninety men take a foolish
promenade through a few streets, would seem a very absurd and useless
display of the power of the city; and the killing of sixty or seventy
men a heavy price to pay for such an amusement. But it was not ninety
Orangemen only that those policemen and soldiers enclosed and shielded.
They had in their keeping the laws and authority of the city, set at
defiance by a mob, and also the principle of religious toleration and
of equal rights, which were of more consequence than the lives of ten
thousand men. The day when New York City allows itself to be dictated
to by a mob, and Protestants not be permitted to march as such quietly
through the streets, her prosperity and greatness will come to an end.
The taking of life is a serious thing, but it is not to weigh a moment
against the preservation of authority and the supremacy of the law.

One thing should not be overlooked--the almost universal faithfulness
of the Roman Catholic Irish police to their duty. In this, as well as
in the draft riots, they have left a record of which, any city might be
proud. To defend Protestant Irishmen against Roman Catholic friends and
perhaps relatives, is a severe test of fidelity; but the Irish police
have stood it nobly, and won the regard of all good citizens. [Footnote:
Twenty-four pages are here added to correct the omission in paging the
engravings.]

[Illustration: RECEIVING AND REMOVING DEAD BODIES IN THE MORGUE.]









End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Great Riots of New York 1712 to
1873, by J.T. Headley

*** 