deep trouble. New England was practically paralyzed. Ships which had
engaged so busily in world commerce a few months earlier stood rotting
at the wharves. The number of unemployed was alarming. Businessmen who
depended on overseas trade were going bankrupt. There was scarcely
anyone in the country who did not feel the depressing effects of the
embargo. The nation’s economy had sunk to its lowest point since the
Revolution.
President Wilson was to say of this period: “The States themselves
suffered from the Act more than the nations whose trade they struck at.
America’s own trade was ruined.”
Onto this gloomy stage in mid-July, 1808, strode the so-called Chinese
mandarin, Punqua Wingchong, and before two months had passed this
Oriental fraud had half the country hooting with derisive laughter and
the other half red-faced with rage.
Punqua Wingchong. It’s a name to remember in American history because
he helped to bamboozle a President of the United States in one of
the gamiest confidence games ever pulled against a trusting Chief
Executive. But he was only the puppet; the man who pulled the strings
behind the scenery was John Jacob Astor, the merchant prince.
The hoax began to unfold in June, 1808, when Astor and the Boston firm
of J. & T. H. Perkins applied to the government for permission to send
a ship to Canton to bring back certain property allegedly owned by the
applicants. The government refused to lift the embargo for such a
venture and as a matter of policy rejected the application.
The rejection would have discouraged the average merchant, but John
Jacob Astor did not build his fortune by being an average man. Soon
after the application was refused, Senator Samuel L. Mitchill of New
York was told a disturbing story. An anonymous informant advised him
that a distinguished Chinese mandarin, who divided his time between New
York City and Nantucket, was the unfortunate victim of the shipping
embargo. It was said that the mandarin, Punqua Wingchong, had made the
long and arduous voyage from Canton to collect several large debts
owing to his grandfather’s estate. Then he had been caught by the
embargo and had been unable to return to his homeland to participate in
mourning rites for his venerable grandfather, who had died suddenly.
It was suggested to Mitchill that the situation was one which quite
possibly could create ill feeling between the governments of the
United States and China if Wingchong chose to blame the Jefferson
administration for the predicament he found himself in, being a virtual
prisoner in a foreign land. Wingchong was reputed to have considerable
influence among the government class of China, and this influence could
be used against American traders in the future if he were not permitted
to return home.
The journals of the time were not clear as to whether the Senator
ever met Wingchong face to face. In all likelihood he did not. But
he was moved to such sympathy by the pictured plight of the hapless
mandarin that he penned a personal appeal asking President Jefferson
to intervene. The Senator had a distinguished background in science
and literature and was a professor of natural history in the College
of Physicians and Surgeons in New York City. It was later to be said
that Senator Mitchill was “strangely deficient in that useful commodity
called common sense,” but his motives seemed sincere enough when he
wrote to the President on July 12, saying:
Sir:
Punqua Wingchong, a Chinese merchant, will be the bearer of this
note of introduction. He came to New York about nine months ago,
on business of a commercial nature, and has resided during that
time, part time, partly here and partly in Nantucket. Having
completed the object of his visit to the United States, he is
desirous of returning to Canton, where the affairs of his family,
and particularly funeral obsequies of his grandfather, require his
solemn attention.
This stranger is represented to me as a man of respectability and
good standing in his country; and is consequently entitled to a
corresponding regard and treatment in ours.
The chief object of his visit to Washington is to solicit the means
of departure, in some way or other to China, but he feels at the
same time a strong desire to see the chief executive officer of the
United States. He will be accompanied by Mr. Palmer, an inhabitant
of New York, who will aid him in stating his request and explaining
his meaning. This gentleman, in addition to many other valuable
qualities, possesses admirable skill in acquiring languages; and he
is perhaps already master of more living tongues than any person
among us--as an evidence of which he has already made considerable
progress in China.
While I recommend these two persons to the notice of the President
I beg leave to accompany the recommendation, with the highest
expression of my high and respectful consideration.
_Sam’l L. Mitchill._
Armed with the Mitchill letter and dressed in the finest of silks and
brocades, Punqua Wingchong journeyed to Washington and no doubt created
a stir of excitement throughout the city, where visitors from the
Orient were not a common sight. Unfortunately, or perhaps otherwise,
Wingchong and his companion, Mr. Palmer, found they could not deliver
the letter to the President in person. Mr. Jefferson had left the city
for a rest at Monticello.
The Mitchill letter was then forwarded to Monticello along with a note
signed by Punqua Wingchong “praying permission to depart” from the
United States with his retinue and his belongings in a vessel of his
own choosing.
President Jefferson was moved by Wingchong’s appeal. Not only did he
feel sympathy, but he felt the situation presented an opportunity to
establish better relations between his government and the rulers of
China, which was becoming an increasingly important customer in foreign
commerce. On July 25, the President wrote to Secretary of the Treasury
Albert Gallatin saying:
Dear Sir:
... Punqua Wingchong, the Chinese Mandarin, has, I believe, his
headquarters at New York, and therefore his case is probably known
to you. He came to Washington just as I had left it and therefore
wrote to me praying permission to depart for his own country with
his property in a vessel to be engaged by himself.... I consider
it as a case of national comity, and coming within the views of
the first section of the first Embargo Act. The departure of this
individual with good disposition may be the means of our making
our nation known advantageously as a source of power in China to
which it is otherwise difficult to convey information. It may be
a sensible advantage to our merchants in that country. I cannot
therefore but consider that a chance of obtaining a permanent
national good should outweigh the effect of a single case taken out
of the great field of the embargo. The case too is so singular that
it can lead to no embarrassment as a precedent....
(signed) Th. Jefferson.
Gallatin detected an odor of intrigue in the situation because
Wingchong requested permission to make the trip to China in the
_Beaver_, a “full-bottomed ship of 427 tons with a capacity for 1,100
tons of cargo,” and the _Beaver_ had been constructed especially for
John Jacob Astor. Gallatin was well aware of the fact that scarcely a
month had passed since Astor had been denied permission for a Canton
voyage. But Jefferson had issued his instructions and Gallatin was a
loyal lieutenant.
On August 3, 1808, Gallatin wrote to David Gelston, Collector of
Customs in New York City, ordering him to make an exception and lift
the embargo. His letter said in part:
Sir,
Punqua Wingchong, a respectable Chinese, who had with the leave
of his government come to the United States for the purpose of
collecting debts due to his father’s estate, having obtained
the special permission of the President of the United States to
engage a vessel to carry himself together with his attendants and
property to his native country, and having made arrangements for
that purpose with the owner of the ship _Beaver_ of 427 tons or
thereabouts; you would be pleased to permit that vessel to depart
for Canton on the following terms and instructions....
The conditions, previously outlined by Jefferson, were that the vessel
could sail with equipment and provisions for crew and passengers.
Punqua Wingchong was to be permitted to be accompanied by his
“attendants” along with their baggage and personal effects and also
about $45,000 ... “either in specie or in furs, cochineal, ginsang, or
any other specie of merchandise of his choice.”
After giving these instructions to Gelston, Gallatin wrote a cautious
letter to Jefferson saying that he had carried out his orders and
Wingchong “has engaged Astor’s vessel to which we had on general
grounds refused permission.” Then he added: “Had I had any discretion
as to the application itself I would have hesitated; for I apprehend
that there is some speculation at bottom; and every deviation from
general rules is considered a favoritism and excites dissatisfaction.”
He also warned Jefferson that to lift the embargo for one vessel would
open the way for others to make direct appeals to the President for
special treatment. Jefferson did not agree with his Secretary. He
insisted that important diplomatic and commercial benefits might accrue
from the courtesies shown Wingchong and they were “likely to bring
lasting advantage to our merchants.”
Gallatin was right. The uproar came when Collector Gelston authorized
the voyage and workmen began swarming over the _Beaver_ to prepare
her for the long sea voyage. With other vessels standing idle and
deserted, such a burst of activity could hardly be kept secret along
the waterfront. In all the United States, this lone ship was the only
one being prepared for a voyage.
The first protest came from a group of Philadelphia merchants who
wrote to Secretary Gallatin on August 10 suggesting that “avarice and
perjury” were being used to obtain the special dispensation for the
voyage of the _Beaver_. As for Punqua Wingchong, the merchants said
they were satisfied he was an impostor “and an insignificant instrument
in the hands of others.” He was unknown to Philadelphia traders who
had been stationed in Canton as agents for years. At best he was only
a petty shopkeeper without credit and not a wealthy member of the
mandarin class, they insisted. It was pointed out to the President that
the mandarins of China never left their own country.
New York newspapers, getting wind of the _Beaver_’s voyage, described
Wingchong as “a Chinaman picked up in the port,” “a common Chinese dock
loafer,” “a Lascar sailor,” and even as “an Indian who had been dressed
up in Astor’s China silks and coached to play his role in the affair.”
The New York _Commercial Advertiser_ on August 13 said in a page-one
story:
A first rate merchants’ ship, which will be navigated by about
30 seamen, is preparing for sea, and is expected to proceed on a
voyage to Canton, in a few days, under special permission from the
President of the United States.
The ostensible object of this voyage is to carry home a person who
is said to be a Mandarin of China.
It is, however, well known that the person for whom permission has
been obtained, is no Mandarin; is not even a licensed or security
merchant;--that his departure from China was contrary to the laws
of that country; that if he arrives in China he will be put on
shore privately, and that the obscurity of his condition in life
affords him the only chance he has of avoiding punishment.
It is also believed that the owner of the ship would not accept all
the property of all the Chinese in this country as a compensation
for the voyage, and it is known that he has offered to contract for
bringing home goods or freight....
Neither Gallatin nor the President retreated before this barrage.
Gallatin wrote the Philadelphia merchants that their plea had come too
late and besides he had no authority to detain the _Beaver_. He delayed
his reply until September 17--the same day on which the _Beaver_ sailed.
Six days later, Jefferson admitted that he had no means of judging
whether the charges by the Philadelphia merchants were true or false.
He said he acted as he did because of “the application having come to
me grounded on his character as a settled fact.” He added “nor are the
jeers of the Federalists any proof of the contrary.” Then he made the
rather lame statement that if the _Beaver_ had not yet sailed perhaps
“she should be detained till the facts ... are inquired into.”
But the _Beaver_ was gone. She was to return a year later with a cargo
of teas, silks, and other valuable merchandise which allegedly brought
Astor a net profit of $200,000.
* * * * *
The December embargo on shipping had been followed in March by the Land
Embargo, which became effective just before Lake Champlain was free of
ice and open for normal navigation. The Land Embargo came as a shock
for the people of northern and northeastern Vermont. Over the years
they had developed a brisk trade with Canada, shipping timber, potash,
coal ashes, and other exports into Canada in return for Canadian
merchandise. The embargo had the effect of shutting off this lucrative
trade for the Vermonters.
The Act was not popular with the citizens or with most Customs
officials along the border and as a result there was lax enforcement.
Smuggling operations reached such proportions that Customs Collector
Jabez Penniman wrote to Secretary of the Treasury Gallatin, complaining
that he could not enforce the law unless the Federal government
supplied troops.
Penniman’s communication spread alarm in Washington. Gallatin
personally carried the letter to the White House to discuss emergency
steps with the President. Jefferson called in Senator Robinson and
Congressman Witherell of Vermont to obtain their advice. The Vermonters
told him that the smuggling could not last for long, probably no longer
than early May. Then the Richelieu river would subside from its spring
flood stage and would not be navigable for the big rafts used to carry
smuggled timber and other products.
Despite the assurances from Robinson and Witherell, Jefferson was
convinced that strong Federal action had to be taken immediately, to
set a precedent if for no other reason. The President directed Gallatin
to authorize Collector Penniman to equip and arm “such vessels as might
be necessary” to put down the smuggling. Penniman also was authorized
to engage crews for these vessels “voluntarily, by force of arms, or
otherwise, to enforce the law.” Then if further aid were necessary, the
Secretary of State was to authorize the United States Marshal to form a
posse to “aid in suppressing the insurrection or combination.”
These measures would seem sufficient to discourage any normal smuggler.
But, apparently caught up in the enthusiasm of stamping out the evasion
of the Embargo and the payment of Customs duties, the President went
even further. He declared that in case the armed vessels and the posses
should not be able to do the job, then the Secretary of War was to move
Federal armed forces to the scene. The Secretary himself was asked to
go to Vermont “and lend the aid of his counsel and authority.” Also the
aroused President informed Secretary Gallatin that he was going to
have two gunboats built at Skenesborough (Whitehall), New York, to halt
the flow of illegal traffic between Vermont and northern New York and
Canada.
Many Vermonters were surprised and indignant at the President’s use of
the word “insurrection” to describe the situation. But in May, 1808,
the good citizens of Vermont (and those not so good) were thrown into
further uproar by a Presidential proclamation which appeared without
warning in _Spooner’s Vermont Journal_. It said information had been
received by the White House that “sundry persons are combined or are
combining and confederating together on Lake Champlain and the country
thereto adjacent, for the purpose of forming insurrections against the
authority of the laws of the United States, for opposing the same and
obstructing their execution.” The President sternly warned against
any person engaging directly or indirectly “in any insurrection” and
he ordered “such insurgents and all concerned in such combinations,
instantly and without delay to disperse themselves and retire peaceably
to their respective abodes.”
The citizens of St. Albans for some reason must have felt that the
President was aiming his shafts at them. At any rate, a town meeting
was held in St. Albans at which it was “positively and unequivocally”
the consensus that the conduct of the citizens of the district had
never given President Jefferson cause to issue such a proclamation.
It was the sense of the assembly that the President’s proclamation
“must have been issued in consequence of erroneous and unfounded
representations, made and transmitted to the executive department of
the United States by some evil minded person or persons.” Then the
citizens let their personal sympathies leak into the matter when they
added that even if individuals “finding themselves and their families
on the verge of ruin and wretchedness” had tried successfully to
evade the embargo, nevertheless this did not justify the President in
proclaiming to the world that the district was guilty of insurrection
and rebellion.
People living along the Canadian border, whose livelihood depended on
the trade with Canada, did not regard this trade as being the evil
which Jefferson declared it to be. For them it was a matter of economic
survival. Soon after the Land Embargo became a law, smuggling rings had
begun operations along the border. Dress goods and other merchandise
were carried to the border on the Canadian side, where it was picked up
by men and transported through the woods into the United States. The
contraband was hidden until such time as it could be taken by wagons or
boats to the merchandising centers.
It was openly rumored that the merchants in Troy and Albany were
hiring gangs to bring foreign goods into the country in this fashion.
Some Customs officers tried to stop the traffic, though most were in
sympathy with the smugglers. In one case a Customs officer leaped
aboard a smuggling craft to seize the cargo and arrest the crew. He
was carried across the boundary line, and then dumped unceremoniously
overboard in water which, fortunately, reached only to his chin.
One method of getting Vermont goods across the border into Canada was
this: dozens of wagons or sleds would be loaded with barrels of pork,
flour, and other commodities. They would be driven to a hillside point
on the American side of the border. A hut would be built in such a
way that, when a stone was kicked from the foundation, the hut would
collapse, the floor would tilt and the contents would roll down the
slope of the hill into Canada, where men were waiting to receive it.
Who was guilty of smuggling if barrels of merchandise, of their own
momentum, suddenly rolled across the border into Canada?
Many Vermonters, however, applauded the action of the President and
supported Customs Collector Penniman in his efforts to halt the illegal
trade across the border. A group of citizens in Franklin County
publicly applauded the action of the President and the Collector. They
said that the lumber and potash merchants were determined to carry on
their “nefarious schemes” of smuggling by armed force if necessary and
that threats had been made to kill the Collector if he attempted to
enforce the laws. There were hints also of a citizens’ agreement for
an uprising if any troops should kill anyone in the process of law
enforcement.
Soldiers were stationed along the border at Windmill Point on the
western shore of Alburg under the command of Major Charles K. Williams,
who later was to become Governor of Vermont. The Customs officers
themselves had a twelve-oared cutter called _The Fly_, which they used
near the outlet of the lake to intercept smuggling operations.
One of the most famous of the boats used by the smugglers was known
throughout the area as the _Black Snake_. This boat was originally
built for ferry service between Charlotte and Essex, New York. It was
40 feet long, 17 feet wide, and had seven oars on each side in addition
to a sail. After being smeared with tar, the boat was almost invisible
at night. It was said to have a capacity of 100 barrels of ashes, and
for a single run across the border the owners received $5,000 to $6,000.
The _Black Snake_ would sneak into St. Albans Bay at night, take on a
cargo of potash, and then slip through various creeks and inlets into
Missisquoi Bay, across Cook’s Bay, and into Canada at a point about one
mile north of Alburg Springs.
Customs officers tried without success for months to halt the
operations of the _Black Snake_. At last, in August, 1808, government
officials detailed Lt. Daniel Farrington, Sgt. David D. Johnson, and
twelve infantry privates to board the Customs boat, _The Fly_. Their
orders were to pursue the _Black Snake_ until its capture.
On the night of August 2, the _Black Snake_ moved into the Onion River
to take on a cargo of potash. The commander of the craft was Truman
Mudgett of Highgate, a burly, thick-chested man whose defiance of the
Customs officers had made his craft famous.
Mudgett knew that _The Fly_ was in the area seeking his hiding place,
and throughout the night he and his crew oiled and tested their rifles
at their camp site on the bank of the river. They also test-fired their
small artillery piece, a gun 8 feet long with a bore of 1¼ inches which
fired fifteen 16-ounce slugs of lead. They had long poles for fending
off a boarding party, 3-foot-long clubs, and baskets filled with stones
the size of a man’s fist.
The poles were to be used first to prevent anyone boarding the _Black
Snake_. If this did not succeed, then the crew were to use the clubs
and stones. As a last resort, they were to defend themselves with the
guns.
At daybreak on August 3, a lookout came racing to the camp to warn the
smugglers that _The Fly_ was moving up the Onion River. Within a few
minutes the revenue cutter came into view and closed on the _Black
Snake_.
Mudgett shouted at Lieutenant Farrington: “I’ll blow the first man
through who lays his hand on the _Snake_!”
Farrington coolly ignored the warning. He leaped from _The Fly_ onto
the _Black Snake_ and ordered Sergeant Johnson to come aboard with six
men and commandeer the outlaw craft.
“You’ll never get out of this river alive,” shouted Mudgett as he
turned and ran back into the woods to rejoin his men.
Farrington sent four soldiers ashore to search for the crew of the
_Black Snake_ and then he returned to the helm of the cutter and
started downstream with his prize. They had gone about half a mile when
the smugglers opened fire from behind an embankment above the river.
Farrington ordered Pvt. Elias Drake to take the helm of the cutter, but
as Drake reached for the helm a bullet tore through his head and killed
him instantly.
As gunfire raked the cutter, Farrington ordered his men to lie flat in
the boat. He grabbed an oar and maneuvered the craft ashore below the
smugglers’ hiding place. Then he and his men leaped ashore and started
to move against the smugglers.
They had advanced only a few yards when the attackers fired the
blunderbuss artillery piece. Two men fell dead under the hail of lead,
and Farrington was badly wounded. Sergeant Johnson rallied the men and
succeeded in capturing all but two of the _Black Snake_’s crew. They
were lodged in jail at Burlington, and later the two smugglers who
escaped were rounded up.
Cyrus B. Dean, one of the smugglers, was convicted of murder and
sentenced to be hanged. A crowd of ten thousand gathered in Burlington
to witness the execution, and some historians say that Dean was the
first man to die of capital punishment in Vermont. Others of the gang,
including Mudgett, were convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to
prison.