If fanaticism had not been mixed up with the materials embarked on the
Mayflower, July 22, 1620, those scenes which disgraced humanity and
civilization and enacted under the belief of witchcraft would never have
occurred here; but, unfortunately, that evil came over with the “Pilgrim
Fathers,” and its consequences gave a dark page to the history of the
“Land of Promise.”
They were, it is true, the pioneers of liberty to a certain
extent,—freedom to the body, but not to the mind.
The chains, riveted by the old Gothic laws at that period existing in
England, and by which millions of human creatures were held in a state
of mental and physical bondage, were left behind, it is true; but the
link which bound them to superstition remained unbroken.
Apart from this, however, their landing on Plymouth Rock was the dawn of
a new era, and it gave an additional spring to human enterprise, “opened
new trains of thought, new paths of gain and of information.”
“What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine,
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought a faith’s pure shrine!”
Passing over the dark days of witchcraft and the persecution of the
Quakers, the colonial history brightens up under a more tolerant rule.
That the belief in witchcraft was a delusion arising from ignorance,
under the influence of which many persons became frantic, there can be
no doubt. And yet there was a method in their madness so cunningly
carried out that it deceived many far more enlightened. A writer
speaking upon the subject says, “It is but justice to the inhabitants of
New England to observe that, though the present age may censure the past
for its superstition, neither England nor any other nation is entitled
to cast the first stone at them. More persons were put to death in
England in a single county, in a few months, than suffered in all the
colonies during the whole period of their existence.”
The scenes that were enacted in New England during this epidemical reign
of insanity gradually yielded to the influence of reason, which under
proper religious discipline once more assumed its rule. One of the chief
causes which tended to arouse the mind from its mental darkness was the
fact of a dog being taken up on suspicion, and actually hanged, as an
accomplice of his master, who was accused of witchcraft![22] This act
capped the climax of folly. People began to wonder if such things could
be; and they actually took the case of the dog into serious
consideration, and then came to this very wise conclusion,—that he fell
a martyr to the folly and ignorance of a few fanatics. They then began
to ridicule those who assumed the power to terrify the people and who
had exercised it to a bitter end over men and animals. This did more to
bring men to their senses than all the preaching and reasoning of the
elders previously.[23]
Naturally, while these idiotic scenes were enacting, the arts and
sciences, commerce and manufactures, were materially neglected; but when
the gloom which fanaticism had cast over this portion of the colonies
had passed away, the dawn of _reason and civilization_ awoke her
benighted children to a new state of existence.
To trace up the postal history of the colonies to the glorious epoch of
our independence would be to give a history of trade and commerce,
science and art. To these do every thing useful and ornamental in the
New World owe its existence. It is true the postal department was at the
early age of colonial history but a minor consideration. The system was
a limited one, and consisted in having post-roads and post-riders. Even
here the latter were to be seen “like angels’ visits, few and far
between.” We can draw one of these from a picture seen in our boyhood
days. It was in the good old State of Pennsylvania, not many miles from
the city of Philadelphia, and while trudging on our way to the village
school, this living picture presented itself. A tall, gaunt man sat on a
tall, gaunt horse; he came riding slowly up the road,—this was not, as
now, a fast age: his hair was partly gray, and fell in tow-looking
ringlets down and around his long, sinewy neck. Over the horse’s back
was swung a large, well-filled pair of saddle-bags. He was the
post-rider. He had started from the main post of the county, established
in Norristown, to others in directions diverging from the main road. He
stopped his horse, and, raising his tall form, resting his feet on a
pair of old rusty stirrups, he shouted out, in a voice of mimic thunder,
“Look here, Jim: take this letter to your mother, ’mediate; for that is
written on the back; and as you pass Mrs. Stroud’s, hand her this
newspaper. Do this, Jim, and I’ll give you sixpence next pay-day.” Such
was the post.
Connected with this little incident there is a somewhat curious
coincidence. Little did the writer think then, while acting as “an
incipient post,” he should in after years find himself in a position in
the Philadelphia post-office, acting first as a carrier, and then as
clerk, and whose early vocations in life were in no manner identified
with public men and public institutions. But what will not revulsions in
trade, politics, and governments effect! Equally strange, too, that
forty years after the little incident of the “old post” he should meet
in the same office the son of that same Mrs. Stroud mentioned above,
acting in a similar capacity. Truly may it be said that “_coming events
cast their shadows before_ us on our boyhood’s wayward path.” But this
is a digression.
Expresses and regular messengers were employed by the colonists, and
horses were kept in constant readiness to start on a moment’s notice
with letters or packets, for the government as well as individuals.
There was no established postal system but that which the exigencies of
the times created. The post-riders, or rather government messengers, ran
frequent risks. Captain Hutchinson started July 4, 1665, sent by the
Governor of Massachusetts with letters constituting him a commissioner
to treat with the Narragansetts. The “letter system” failed to
conciliate the tribe, as they had openly declared for Philip; and here
we have another illustration of the fact that in cases of war and
rebellion the “sword is mightier than the pen.” The colonial forces
marched into their country and compelled them to sign a treaty, which,
however, was only considered binding as long as the forces sent against
them were present.
In 1676, however, the colonial court established a post-office in
Boston, appointing John Heyward postmaster. Heyward followed the system
as established in England, and placed posts and made routes to the
extent of the commercial interest of the State. This gave general
satisfaction to those who were interested in this mode of communicating
with men connected with them in trade, as also to others who had friends
and relations scattered throughout what was then a thinly-populated
State.
In the year 1700, Col. J. Hamilton, of New Jersey, and son of Governor
Andrew Hamilton, first devised the post-office scheme for British
America, for which he obtained a patent and the profits accruing.
Afterwards he sold it to the crown, and a member of Parliament was
appointed for the whole, with a right to have his substitute reside in
New York. The statute of Anne, in 1716, placed the postal department
under the immediate control of the crown.
The first regular post-office established in the colonies by Parliament
was in 1710. By its provisions a general post-office was established in
North America and the West Indies, or any other of her majesty’s
dominions, or in any country or kingdom beyond the seas, and “at which
office all returns and answers may be likewise received. For the better
managing, ordering, collecting, and improving the revenue, and also for
the better computing and setting the rates of letters according to
distance, a chief office is established in Edinburgh, one in Dublin, one
at New York, and other chief offices in convenient places in her
majesty’s colonies of America, and one in the islands of the West
Indies, called the ‘Leeward Islands.’”
That our readers may form some idea of the limited use of a post-office
at that period, it is only necessary to state the fact that in 1708 New
York contained but one thousand houses, most of them substantially
built. The great Trinity Church, so called then, was erected in
1695.[24] A library was established there in 1700, and the post-office,
as stated above, in 1710. The post-horse system, such as was pursued in
England, continued, nor was it until 1732 that the first stage-route to
Philadelphia was established: stages also departed for Boston monthly,
taking a fortnight on the route.
The following announcement is taken from the “Philadelphia Weekly
Mercury,” dated November 30, 1752:—
“On Monday next the Northern post sets out from New York, in order to
perform his stage but once a fortnight during the winter quarter; the
Southern post changes also, which will cause this paper to come out on
Tuesdays during that time. The colds which have infested the Northern
colonies have been also troublesome here; few families have escaped the
same; several have been carried off by the cold, among whom was David
Brintnall, in the seventy-seventh year of his age. He was the first man
that had a brick house in the city of Philadelphia, and was much
esteemed for his just and upright dealing. There goes a report here that
the Lord Baltimore and his lady are arrived in Maryland, but, the
Southern post being not yet come in, the said report wants
confirmation.”
The David Brintnall mentioned here built the first house made of brick
in the city of Philadelphia: it was situated in Chestnut Street below
Fourth, and stood back from the street-line, with a small garden in
front. The first house erected in Philadelphia was a wooden one, on the
east side of Front Street, a little north of the place now called
“Little Dock Street,” and is said not to have been finished when William
Penn first arrived. The owner, John Guest, kept a public house there for
many years. His sign was a “Blue Anchor.” The town and boroughs of
Philadelphia were located in 1682.
Letters between New York and Boston were, previous to the introduction
of stages, conveyed on horseback. Madam Knight, in her journal, dated
1704, says that “she was two weeks in riding with the postman, as her
guide, from Boston to New York. In most of the towns she saw Indians.”
In 1702, Mrs. Shippen, soon after her marriage, came from Boston to
Philadelphia on horseback, _bringing a baby on her lap_.
Even at a much later period the mode of travelling was still in a slow
way, as may be seen by the following advertisement, which appeared in
1776:—
“This is to give notice to the Publick that the stage waggons kept by
John Burrowhill, in Elm Street, in Philadelphia, and John Mersereax, at
the Blazing Star, near New York, intend to perform the journey from
Philadelphia to New York in two days; also to continue seven months,
viz.: from the 14th of April to the 14th of November, and the remaining
five months of the year in three days. The waggons to be kept in good
order, and good horses, with sober drivers. They purpose to set off from
Philadelphia on Mondays and Thursdays punctually at sunrise, and to be
in Prince-Town the same nights, and change passengers, and return to New
York and Philadelphia the following days. The passengers are desired to
cross Powlass Hook Ferry the evening before. The waggon is not to stay
after sunrise. Price, each passenger, from Powlass Hook to Prince Town,
ten shillings; from thence to Philadelphia, ten shillings also; Ferriage
free. Threepence each mile any distance between. Any gentlemen or ladies
that wants to go to Philadelphia, can go in the stage and be home in
five days, and be two nights and one day in Philadelphia to do business
or see the market-days. All gentlemen and ladies who are pleased to
favour us with their custom may depend on due attendance and civil usage
by those humble servants,
“JOHN MERSEREAX,
“JOHN BURROWHILL.
“June, 1776.”
Market-days in Philadelphia at that period, and long afterwards, were
great attractions to the country-people, even apart from business. It
was also customary to ring the bells of Christ Church on the evenings
previous to “market-days” for the edification of the country-people, who
had learned to look upon them—or at least to hear their sound—as more or
less identified with our independence. There is a peculiar history
attached to these bells. They were purchased in England at a cost of
£900. There were eight of them, and their aggregate weight was eight
thousand pounds, the tenor bell weighing eighteen hundred pounds. In
1777, fearful of their falling back again into English hands, they were
taken down and conveyed to Allentown, Pennsylvania, for “_safe
keeping_.” After the evacuation of the city they were replaced, and have
been ringing joyfully ever since. They pealed forth in gladsome sounds
when the old State-House Bell sounded its note to liberty, and in
harmony they proclaimed it to the world. But did the world respond? Did
it shake off the bonds which bound man to man by an iron chain? Did it
“proclaim” alike to the African that freedom was his birthright? Alas!
no; for although the Declaration of our Independence pronounced “all men
equal,” yet a distinction was made in color, and, under that very
document and the Constitution, slavery came in, to become in time, what
it was in reality before, a curse.
Years passed on; trade and traffic in human flesh continued, until the
Almighty, in his wondrous mystery, brought about their emancipation in a
manner that levelled the institution of slavery to the ground forever.
But, alas! have we not as a people and a nation been severely punished?
Established on a basis of crime and carried out in a spirit of fiendish
ferocity, they dared call it a “divine institution.” For this fearful
error on the part of those eminent men who framed that document, our
country has suffered fearfully; but these bells and all other bells will
peal once more under a new order of things, and truly as well as
righteously “proclaim liberty throughout the land to all the people
thereof.” Then will our land
“be blest,
Its branchy glories spreading o’er the West;
No summer gourd, the wonder of a day,
Born but to bloom, and then to fade away,
A giant oak, it lifts its lofty form,
Greens in the sun, and strengthens in the storm.
Long in its shade shall children’s children come,
And welcome earth’s poor wanderers to a home,
Long shall it live, and every blast defy,
Till Time’s last whirlwind sweep the vaulted sky.”
_EARLY POSTS._
New York, like Pennsylvania, has its primitive postal history. The first
postmaster at Schenectady was Dr. Eleazer Mosely, who died in 1833, aged
seventy-three years. He established a post by raising subscriptions
from the inhabitants, which operated very favorably; and the result was
the carrying the mail by contract.
At first the western mail was carried from Albany once a week, in a
valise on the shoulder of a footman.
As late as the year 1810 there was only a weekly mail between
Canandaigua and Genesee River, carried on horseback, and part of the
time by a _woman_!
In 1730 notice was published to this effect:—“_Whosoever inclines to
perform the foot-post to Albany this winter is to make application to
Richard Nichols, the postmaster._” Only think of this, ye modern
letter-carriers!
The carrying of the mail between New York and Philadelphia previous to
the Revolution was a very small matter: it was hardly an affair to be
robbed. It was carried by a boy, who took the whole in saddle-bags, on
horseback, three times a week. Next it was carried in a sulky;—next in
coaches. What is it now?
In 1753 the post-office at the Bowling Green, Broadway, was, as
announced, “opened everyday save Saturday afternoons, and Sundays from
eight to twelve A.M. and from two to four P.M.”
_NEW YORK POST-OFFICE._
The original office was situated at the corner of William and Garden
Streets, in which house resided the then Postmaster-General, Theodorus
Bailey. It was also the residence of Sebastian Ballman, the first
postmaster of the city subsequently to the Revolution, who was appointed
to the office by General Washington. The room used as an office was
twenty-five to thirty-five feet in length, and contained one hundred
boxes. In 1827 it was in the basement of the “Merchants’ Exchange,”
occupying two-thirds of that extensive space. The Merchants’ Exchange is
situated on Wall Street. It is built of white marble. Its front on Wall
Street is one hundred and fourteen feet, and its depth, extending to
Garden Street, one hundred and fifty feet. The portico of the building,
to which a flight of marble steps ascends, is ornamented with Ionic
columns twenty-seven feet high.
In 1844 the post-office was removed to a new building,—the first, we
believe, ever erected in that city expressly for postal purposes.[25] It
is situated on Nassau Street, and reflects but little credit to the city
either for its architectural or business-like appearance. There is many
a lager-beer establishment can compete with almost any post-office in
this country in point of those attractive qualities in architectural
design in which they are so totally deficient. In this, however, we are
not surprised; for the former has become an institution that may well
claim precedence over almost any other in the country. Lager-beer
saloons are institutions dedicated to death: hence their motto should be
the Dutch word for _beer_,—BIER.
_INDEPENDENT POST-OFFICE._
An independent post-office was established in New York in 1775. It was
suggested by William Goddard, the publisher of the “Maryland Journal,”
and John Holt, the printer, was appointed postmaster. It went into
(partial) operation on the 11th of May. The office was kept at Holt’s
printing-office.
There is no doubt that the “Sons of Liberty,” a popular association of
Americans, were connected with this movement; for one of the first acts
of its members was to send, through this office, threatening letters to
the leading members of the tory party. This association took the lead in
political matters, and exercised a powerful influence over the masses.
They also, in the dead hour of the night, went to Holt’s printing-office
and printed inflammatory handbills themselves, and then circulated them
throughout the city.
_JOHN HOLT._
This gentleman was originally mayor of Williamsburg, Virginia. He also
established a newspaper there, and rendered important service to the
cause of the patriots. He came to New York, where ten years before he
had published the “New York Gazette and Post-Boy” in company with James
Parker. He started another paper shortly after his arrival in New York.
When the British took possession of the city, he left it, and published
his journal at Esopus and Poughkeepsie. While at the former place he
published Burgoyne’s pompous proclamation, also the full account of the
dreadful massacre in the Wyoming Valley. Holt died January 30, 1784,
aged sixty-four years.
The tongue of slander found no poison in his life to bait shafts with;
and justice, having awarded him all praise in life, left his memory and
his acts to the historian.