THE NEGRO 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 Negro Slaves.--The Negro 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 Negro, left to swing and rot in the
Air.--Strange Change in the Appearances of the Bodies.--The People
throng to look at them.--Negroes 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
negro 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
negroes, 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 negroes, 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 negroes standing in front, armed with guns and long
knives. Before the whites could hardly comprehend what the strange
apparition meant, the negroes 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 negroes 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 negroes.
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 negroes 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 negroes, 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 negro 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 negroes
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 negroes 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 negro 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 negroes, 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 negroes
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 colored
servant girl, belonging to John Hughson, the keeper of a low, dirty
negro tavern over on the west side of the city, near the Hudson River.
This was a place of rendezvous for the worst negroes 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 negro 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 negroes--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 negroes, and at this time kept as a mistress by a
bold, desperate negro 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 negroes designed to kill all the whites, in fact,
exterminate them from the island. She implicated a great many negroes
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 negroes 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
negroes 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 negro 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 negro, and the negro
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 negroes, 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 negroes 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 negroes 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 negroes, 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 negroes 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
Papists, 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 negro 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.