IN A CEREMONY held in front of City Hall the public executioner broke Captain John Manning’s sword over his head for surrendering the city to the Dutch. Thus disgraced, the Englishman retired to his estate on what we now call Welfare Island.
The very year that the British recaptured the city, the Dutch West India Company was dissolved. Later it was revived under the same name, but it never again influenced New York.
During the next 109 years of their rule the British did little to promote education, never establishing free schools. The public school system inaugurated by the Dutch withered under the new regime. From time to time, however, various churches set up primary and secondary schools. On the other hand, slavery increased far more rapidly under the British than under the Dutch, and eventually this brought tragedy and disgrace to the city.
Many rich merchants lived here. As early as 1674, 94 burghers had estates valued at more than 1,000 guilders each. Twenty-two estates were worth between 5,000 and 10,000 guilders each. Hendrick Philipsen, the richest man in town, had assets of 80,000 guilders. In that era, planters worth 500 guilders were considered wealthy. About this time rich people began using silverware, although forks did not become common until after 1700.
Surrounded by abundant natural resources, New Yorkers were stupidly wasteful—chopping down trees, for example, with no thought of conservation. Windmills remained popular after the British took over. For a while the Boston Post Road was allowed to languish because fears of the Dutch had vanished and the French had not yet become a menace.
From the beginning of the city’s history down to the present, men in the same line of work settled in the same part of town. Shoemakers, to name one group, congregated in Broad Street. Using the bark of trees for their tanning process, they converted animal skins into leather for shoes, boots, harnesses, men’s breeches, and waistcoats and into the leather petticoats and jerkins worn by women. Their tanning pits emitted an acrid stench. At last the tanneries were declared a public nuisance and driven outside the town limits. Four shoemakers bought property just south of the present Manhattan end of the Brooklyn Bridge and set up shop there, only to be driven farther north about twenty years later.
The first Britain governor after the recapture of the city was Major Edmund Andros, not quite thirty-eight years of age. The life-span then was far shorter than it is now, and men rose to eminence at an early age. Another favorite of the royal Stuarts, Andros was a man of unblemished character, firm purpose, administrative ability, energy, and zeal. Like his predecessor Nicolls, he spoke French and Dutch as fluently as English. Andros belonged to the Church of England. The lieutenant governor, Anthony Brockholls, was a Roman Catholic.
Andros got off to a good start. Once again the Duke’s Laws were proclaimed in effect. The new governor did not pack all public offices with Englishmen but parceled out these positions among English, Dutch, and French citizens. Unable to straighten out the colony’s chaotic currency, Andros did succeed in nearly every other reform he instituted. He reorganized the militia, repaired the fort, strengthened the harbor defenses, increased trade, beautified the city, and pacified the Indians.
In 1676 the Great Dock was constructed along Water Street from Whitehall Slip to Coenties Slip. For the next seventy-four years it was the only dock in the city. Seven public wells, two in the middle of Broadway, were drilled, householders near each well being assessed one-half the cost of their maintenance. In 1677 Andros ordered work begun on the first insane asylum in the province of New York. In Dutch days the streets were never lighted at night. Andros decreed in 1679 that on moonless nights every seventh house must display a lantern containing a lighted candle. The expense of the streetlights was divided among the seven property owners adjacent to each lantern.
A city-appointed chimney sweep roamed the streets, crying aloud that his services were available to householders. For the first time the city began to support paupers, and the first welfare case was “Top Knot” Betty, who got three shillings a week. Peaches and apples grew in abundance, but the Dutch drank imported rum or brandy, which they called kill-devil. In 1679 a visiting missionary wrote with a sense of awe: “In passing through this island we sometimes encountered such a sweet smell in the air that we stood still.” Cora was New York’s principal crop for many years. Imported wheat, however, did so well in the local soil that raising wheat became even more profitable than growing corn or trading furs.
To make flour from wheat, the grain must be ground, sifted, and blended. At first the Dutch ground the wheat by hand; later, by windmills. Under the English, horse mills began to displace windmills. The Dutch had created a demand for flour, not only within the colony but also in the West Indies and elsewhere. Unfortunately, it was of an uneven quality and could not be produced in great quantities. Governor Andros now realized that not even the most honest and able miller, toiling in isolation, could produce standardized flour in sufficient bulk to meet the growing demand.
New York flour already was popular, but Andros decided to improve its manufacture and packaging by creating a monopoly. In 1678 he granted a few leading citizens the exclusive right to bolt all flour and bake all bread and hardtack. Bolting means sifting with a cloth screen or sieve. The milling process separates the flour portion of the wheat kernel from the germ, bran, and most of the harder parts of the endosperm.
This monopoly at the bottleneck of the Hudson valley wheatlands made New York City the granary of America. Cries of outrage arose from neighboring towns and people hurt by the monopoly, but it resulted in the city’s first great business boom. In the long run the entire colony benefited, for as the improved flour created ever wider demand, there was a need for more farms to grow grain and more ships to transport the finished product overseas. In the city itself the manufacture of flour became the leading industry, with almost two-thirds of the citizens dependent on it in one way or another. New buildings were erected, land values increased, shipbuilding flourished, more beef cattle were slaughtered, and city revenues rose.
During Andros’ regime and that of his successor a series of Bolting Laws was passed. Although some were repealed, amended, or ignored, they increased the city’s wealth threefold over the sixteen years that the monopoly lasted. Throughout this period other colonies tried in vain to overcome New York’s lead in the flour industry. However, they forged ahead in other ways.
Boston, founded in 1630, or 6 years after New York City, was growing fast. Philadelphia, laid out in 1682, was 58 years younger than New York. When Philadelphia was founded, New York City contained about 2,000 white persons, plus Negroes and slaves. Three years later Philadelphia held 2,500 inhabitants, while the whole province of Pennsylvania boasted more than 8,000 colonists. Thus, Pennsylvania grew as fast in three years as New York had grown in a half century. Pennsylvania’s greater religious tolerance played a part in this growth.
New York had many religious sects, and not only did they quarrel with one another, but disputes also raged among members of the same sects. In 1678 the Reverend Charles Wolley arrived to become the chaplain at Fort James. The only English minister in the entire province, he kept a diary and noted with chagrin the religious acrimony prevailing here. Two other pastors had not spoken to each other for six years. One was German-born Bernhardus Frazius, a Lutheran. The other was Dutch-born Wilhelmus Van Nieuwenhuysen, a Calvinist.
One evening Wolley asked both men to his house without letting either know the other had been invited. “At their first interview,” Wolley recorded, “they stood so appalled as if the ghosts of Luther and Calvin had suffered a transmigration.” The English pastor quickly suggested that the opponents converse in Latin, and if either uttered one word in Dutch, he would be penalized a bottle of Madeira wine. Wolley hoped to dilute their hostility in alcohol and a neutral tongue. The dumbfounded Lutheran and Calvinist nodded agreement. Then Wolley uncorked a bottle of wine, started their tongues wagging, and discovered that the Calvinist had a taste for spirits. Before the evening ended, the erstwhile enemies were chattering in Latin so rapidly that Wolley could not keep up with them.
New Yorkers of all faiths were terrified in the fall of 1680 by the appearance of an enormous comet that streaked through the sky for more than five weeks. They fasted and humiliated themselves to appease what they considered to be the wrath of God.
Governor Andros became the target of criticism. He was accused of showing too much favor to Dutch shipping and of letting the people of Boston engage in the fur trade with Indians. When the Duke of York heard these rumors, he ordered Andros to London to justify his conduct. Andros sailed in 1681, fully expecting to return. After all, his bolting monopoly had increased New York’s revenue. Even so, Andros hadn’t made enough profits to satisfy the greedy duke, so he was relieved of his command in America. Then, to save face for both of them, the duke made Andros a gentleman of the king’s chamber and gave him a lease to the island of Alderney.
About this time the duke was closeted in London with his friend William Penn. This wealthy Quaker was the son of Admiral William Penn, who had captured the island of Jamaica for England. After the admiral’s death his son inherited a claim on the Crown for 16,000 pounds lent by his father to Charles II. In payment of the claim the king gave the younger William Penn a charter for Pennsylvania. An ardent believer in freedom of conscience, Penn wanted to create a haven for Quakers in America. Now, during their private interview, the duke lamented that he couldn’t collect taxes or raise enough revenue in New York, that indeed he had half a mind to sell his colony to anyone offering a fair price for it.
“What?” cried Penn. “Sell New York? Don’t think of such a thing! Just give it self-government, and there will be no more trouble.”
The duke took Penn’s advice. In 1683 he chose Colonel Thomas Dongan to succeed Andros as governor of New York. Dongan was an Irish Catholic of extremely liberal views. He was accompanied here by an English Jesuit, Father Thomas Harvey. Later they were joined by two other Jesuits, Father Henry Harrison and Father Charles Gage, as well as by two lay brothers. Mass was celebrated for the first time in New York City—inside Fort James—on October 30, 1683. Because Dongan was the first Catholic appointed to high office in New York, the people were prejudiced against him at the onset and were somewhat suspicious.
The duke had ordered Dongan to permit people of all faiths to worship in New York, provided they did not disturb the peace. This was not so benevolent as it seemed. Both as the Duke of York and later as King James II, James Stuart schemed to enhance the power of the Catholic faith, which he had embraced as a convert. A fanatic, he pretended to tolerate all faiths, hoping to revive Catholicism in Protestant England and establish it in New York. He gave Dongan this order only for tactical reasons.
Agreeing with William Penn that New Yorkers needed more self-government, the duke told Dongan to permit elections to be held. About this time some Long Island townspeople refused to keep paying taxes without representation. They complained about the greater freedom and prosperity of the colonies on either side of them. They wanted a government consisting of a governor, a council, and an assembly, the assembly members to be elected by freeholders of the colony.
On August 25, 1683, Dongan ordered the election of such an assembly. Two months later seventeen elected representatives sat down with the governor and ten councilors in Fort James. The first bill passed by the assembly vested supreme and permanent legislative power in the governor, a council, and the people. It guaranteed every freeholder and freeman the right to vote for representatives. It specified that no man should be tried for any offense except by a jury of twelve peers. It declared that no tax could be imposed except by direction of the assembly. It spelled out other liberties and privileges. However, Dongan’s charter was more democratic in appearance than in reality. Furthermore, it wasn’t actually a charter, but only a legislative act. Governor Dongan consented to it, but the measure had to be approved by the Duke of York. It was sent to London. Before the duke signed the document, he found himself the new king of England.
In 1683, after the English manner, the province of New York was divided into counties. Four lay within the present city of New York. They were the counties of New York (Manhattan), Kings (Brooklyn), Richmond (Staten Island), and Queens. The Bronx did not become a separate county until 1914. Most Americans think of a county as a geographical area larger than any municipality lying within it. However, New York City’s counties are physically smaller than the municipality itself. At present the city’s five counties are political subdivisions of the state. The same five counties also are known as boroughs when they are considered political subdivisions of the city.
The names given the counties were vivid reminders of the royal Stuarts: New York County was named for the Duke of York; Kings County, for his brother, King Charles II of England; Queens County, for Charles’ wife, Catherine of Braganza; and Richmond County, for the Duke of Richmond, the king’s illegitimate son by the Duchess of Portsmouth.
Also in 1683, the city of New York was divided into six wards: South, Dock, East, North, West, and the Out Ward (Harlem). The freemen annually elected an alderman for each ward.
Charles II died in 1685, and the Duke of York ascended the throne of England as King James II. Now the proprietary colony of New York became a royal colony. In a proprietary colony ultimate power is vested in one or more private individuals. In a royal colony the king is supreme. When King James examined the Dongan charter, he decided that it granted too many liberties, and he refused to sign it. As king, James concerned himself not only with the colony of New York but also with all the American colonies. Wishing to simplify administration and strengthen the line of defense against the French of Canada, he formed a Dominion of New England, which included all the colonies north and east of the Delaware River.
The Dominion of New England was established in 1686, and the colony of New York was annexed to it. James chose Edmund Andros as the dominion’s governor-general, plucking him out of exile and knighting him. Sir Edmund selected Boston for his headquarters. The new lieutenant governor, Captain Francis Nicholson, was ordered to New York. The colony’s erstwhile governor, Thomas Dongan, was told to resign.
In 1685 King Louis XIV of France had revoked the Edict of Nantes, thus denying Protestants the right to practice their religion in France. This sent a tidal wave of frightened Huguenots tumbling out of France to other parts of Europe and to the New World. Many refugees came to New York, bringing skills, such as silversmithing, which added to the city’s cultural life. In 1688 the first Huguenot church was established in New York. The same year another group of exiles settled on Long Island Sound northeast of the city, founding the community of New Rochelle, named for their hometown in France, La Rochelle.
James of England promptly wrote Louis of France to congratulate him on his persecutions. James still connived to reestablish Catholicism in his native land. There had been no widespread conversions to the Church of Rome as he had hoped. His appointment of more Catholics to office, together with other measures, brought on the English Revolution of 1688, which in turn sparked a revolution in New York.
English Protestants finally grew so fearful of the king’s swelling tyranny that they cast about for a leader to replace him. Their choice fell on William of Orange, the stadholder of Holland, who, besides being the king’s nephew, had become his son-in-law by marrying his daughter Mary. William was a Calvinist and wholly free of religious prejudice. The Protestant party now secretly invited the Dutch Protestant to invade England and strike down the Catholic despot. William landed on British soil on November 5, 1688. James abdicated and fled to France. The conquering Dutchman and his English wife became King William III and Queen Mary II of England.
News of their accession was received in America with rejoicing. This seemed the moment for sundering the hated Dominion of New England. The various colonies disliked the dominion because it imposed a centralized rule and deprived them of their charters.
The people of Boston jailed Governor Andros and chose a council of safety “to preserve the government until directions arrive from England.” This is known to history as New England’s Glorious Revolution of 1689. The Dominion of New England split into about a dozen independent units. In New York the lieutenant governor, Nicholson, declined to proclaim William and Mary the new monarchs of England until he received official word from them. They were slow to act in this regard. Nicholson was less concerned with religion than he was with maintaining law and order.
New York Protestants, who loathed Popery, were afraid that James might hack or plot his way back to power. Revolts broke out in Queens, in Westchester County to the north, and in Suffolk County on Long Island. Nicholson was eyed suspiciously. A Protestant? Perhaps he was a secret tool of the Catholic James.
The day after Nicholson learned that Andros had been imprisoned in Boston, he heard that England and France had started fighting again. Actually, war was not declared until May 7, 1689. Thus began the second Hundred Years’ War between France and England. In America it was called the French and Indian Wars. On this side of the Atlantic the conflict was a struggle between the French colonies and the English colonies. At issue was the question of which would rule the New World.
Nicholson repaired Fort James and ordered the militia to drill. Many English regulars, usually stationed in New York, had been sent to Maine, where French-supported Indians were attacking frontier settlements. This left only a few professional soldiers in the fort at the lower tip of Manhattan. Other than these regulars, there were only 6 militia companies in the city of 3,500 inhabitants. The militia was led by a colonel.
The senior captain, Jacob Leisler, now leaped into the center of the city’s history. Bora in Germany and the son of a minister, Leisler had emigrated to New York at the age of twenty. He married the widow of a rich Dutchman, accumulated a fortune of his own, became a leading citizen, and served as a deacon in the Dutch Reformed Church. Sharp in business dealings, he nevertheless bought the freedom of a poor Huguenot family about to be sold into servitude for nonpayment of their ship’s passage to the city. Stocky, gusty, carelessly dressed, both profane and pious, Leisler was a coarse-grained fellow of mulish stubbornness.
He imported liquor, among other things. At just this time there arrived a cargo of wine consigned to him. Leisler refused to pay the duties because the collector, Matthew Plowman, was a Catholic and therefore unqualified to collect customs under the new Protestant monarchs. Other merchants, taking their cue from Leisler also balked.
Leisler despised and feared James II and Popery. Although the Protestants of New York did not know it, James afterward informed Pope Innocent XI that he had always intended to force Catholicism on the American colonies. Moreover, James’ coreligionist, Louis XIV of France, ordered an expedition to attack and conquer New York City, as Cromwell once had intended to do. So there was some substance to anti-Catholic rumors in New York. Few Catholics lived anywhere in the city, but Staten Island was said to be swarming with them. Nicholson was supposed to have crossed the Upper Bay in a small boat to conspire with these Catholics. Former Governor Dongan, still in these parts, was preparing to destroy the city. James himself was about to land on a Jersey beach at the head of a French army.
These spreading rumors caused panic. Some people demanded that all local Catholics be disarmed. Nicholson’s every act was distorted and misinterpreted. Seeking to blunt the terror of a French invasion, he suggested that each militia company take turns guarding the fort. One evening Captain Abraham De Peyster’s company mounted guard. Lieutenant Henry Cuyler told one of his men to stand sentinel at the sally port, but a sergeant of the regulars protested that Nicholson had given no such orders. When Nicholson heard of the incident, he summoned the militia lieutenant into his presence.
“Who is the commander of this fort?” Nicholson demanded. “You or I?”
The lieutenant said that he had acted under Captain De Peyster’s orders.
Nicholson barked, “I’d rather see the town on fire than be commanded by you!”
Before sunrise the next day, May 31, 1689, there buzzed from mouth to ear word that the lieutenant governor had threatened to burn New York to the ground. What’s more, he planned to massacre all Dutch citizens who entered the fort the following Sunday to attend church. Leisler’s company rushed to his house, led by a sword-brandishing sergeant, who cried, “We’re sold! We’re betrayed! We’re going to be murdered!” He begged Leisler to lead them as they captured the fort. Leisler refused. Off raced the sergeant and the other soldiers. When they got to the fort, they were let inside by Lieutenant Cuyler. Left behind, Leisler brooded a few minutes, then hurried to the fort, and took command.
A little before dark he sent a group of his men to a house where Nicholson was dining. They demanded that the lieutenant governor surrender the keys to the fort. Indignantly, he refused. After they left, Nicholson sped to City Hall to confer with his council about this “confused business.” An hour later another militia captain, named Charles Lodowick, marched his own company into the council chamber and demanded the keys. Realizing that the militia had turned against the government, Nicholson now handed them over.
Later that evening all the militia captains gathered in the fort to discuss what should be done. They were far from unanimous about a complete break with British authority as represented by Nicholson. Now appeared the schism which divided the populace into two factions for years to come. The patroons, rich fur traders, merchants, lawyers, aristocrats, and Crown officers opposed the clean break urged by Leisler, himself a wealthy merchant. His followers consisted of small shopkeepers, small farmers, sailors, poor traders, and artisans. It was rich against poor, aristocrats against democrats. Leisler orated about the treacherous designs of the deposed James, the insidious fanaticism of all Catholics—especially priests—and the dangers of an attack by the Catholic hordes of the French king. He denounced Nicholson as a traitor, warned that a massacre might occur the following Sunday, and roared his loyalty to the new Protestant monarchs.
After much hesitation the captains finally agreed to take turns governing the city until explicit orders arrived from England. Leisler, flushed with triumph, drafted a paper stating that New York was threatened by Nicholson and promising to hold the fort until the proper person arrived to take command. One after another, in the glow of shadow-splashing candles, the captains signed this document on the head of a drum. With this act all real power passed from the lieutenant governor and the council.
Down through the ages the greatest revolutionary leaders have been men who could articulate clearly what the masses felt and thought only dimly and dumbly. Leisler was such a man. At first, apparently, he was entirely sincere. William and Mary should have been proclaimed in New York more quickly than they were. They should have trumpeted their authority, made plain the chain of command, and issued royal statements to restore order. Instead, partly because of the slowness of transportation and communication, they allowed time for Leisler to step into the vacuum.
How Leisler seized control of the city, tried to extend his power to the rest of the colony, chafed for lack of royal recognition, and changed from a well-meaning liberator into a tyrant—this is a long story. In his growing megalomania, Leisler compared himself with Cromwell, denounced all who opposed him, and ordered dissidents dragged to jail. Still, not a drop of blood was shed, and Leisler never executed anyone.
For two years he ruled New York. Despite all his mistakes and excesses, he did convene the first congress of the American colonies. At his invitation, representatives of the various provinces met in New York on May 1, 1690, to plan an attack on the French Canadians. Never before had the colonies voluntarily cooperated in a common cause. Their efforts came to nothing, and Leisler spent much of his fortune fruitlessly. However, the French became so embroiled in war with Iroquois Indians that they did not send a military expedition down the Hudson to take New York, as was their intention.
Leisler raged over the failure of his attack on Canada and sulked because William and Mary sent him no mark of their favor. His behavior became so erratic and his rule so tyrannical that petitions criticizing him were sent to the monarchs in London. Old women taunted him in the streets, and a few daring souls threw stones at him.
On September 2, 1689, the king and queen had named Colonel Henry Sloughter the new governor of New York, but he didn’t arrive until the next year. By then Nicholson and Dongan and all priests had fled the colony in fear of their lives. The new governor sailed from England with a fleet of British ships, but they were separated in a raging storm. The first three vessels to reach New York were commanded by Richard Ingoldsby, the new lieutenant governor of the colony. He led a force of regular troops.
Ingoldsby ordered Leisler to admit his men into the fort. Leisler refused to recognize Ingoldsby’s authority or to surrender the fort without a written order from King William or the new governor. Unfortunately, Ingoldsby carried no official documents of any sort. His papers were aboard the frigate Archangel, conveying Sloughter here, and this ship had grounded on a Bermuda island and was waiting for repairs.
Ingoldsby knew his rights, even though he lacked the papers to prove it. After waiting four days, he disembarked his soldiers and quartered them in City Hall. He demanded the release of those of Leisler’s prisoners whom the king had appointed to the council. All this infuriated Leisler and convinced him that Ingoldsby and his men were Catholic conspirators trying to capture the fort for James II. There were demands and counterdemands. Six weeks passed. At last Ingoldsby and some anti-Leislerians began to collect militia to reinforce the regulars.
Leisler gave Ingoldsby two hours to disband his forces. When the lieutenant governor balked, Leisler ordered his troops to fire on the king’s men. A few were killed and wounded. Even worse, from Leisler’s viewpoint, some of his own followers threw down their arms and scattered to their homes.
Two days after this clash, which further divided the two New York factions, Sloughter’s ship arrived belatedly at the Narrows. A rowboat was sent to the Archangel with news of the bloody crisis in the city. Governor Sloughter landed, marched to City Hall, and read aloud his commission. Then he ordered Ingoldsby to demand the instant surrender of the fort.
Leisler behaved like a madman. He bellowed that he would not give up the fort until he got a written order from the king addressed to him personally. As midnight neared, a second demand was made of Leisler. Now he sent his son-in-law, Jacob Milborne, to say that it was against his principles to surrender the fort at night. Sloughter, with a flick of his fingers, signaled his soldiers to seize Milborne and throw him into jail. So ended the night of tension.
The next morning Leisler sent Sloughter a conciliatory letter, disclaiming any wish to keep the fort for himself. But he added that there were certain points he wanted clarified. Ignoring the letter, the governor commanded Ingoldsby to order the fort’s defenders to lay down their arms and march out. He promised freedom from prosecution for all but Leisler, Milborne, and their closest advisers. Leisler’s troops obeyed. The demented dictator was left alone and helpless.
He and his staff were charged with treason. They also were accused of murder for firing on the king’s men and thereby causing wanton destruction of life. After a week’s trial Leisler, Milborne, and six others were found guilty and sentenced to death. However, the six subordinates were pardoned, leaving Leisler and Milborne to pay the supreme penalty. Although Sloughter considered them knaves unworthy to live, he hesitated about signing their death warrants because an appeal had been sent to the king by Leisler’s adherents. The anti-Leislerians invited the new governor to a wedding feast and plied him with liquor until he put his shaky signature to the execution papers.
On a dark and rainy May morning Leisler and his son-in-law were led to gallows erected at what was to become the Manhattan end of the Brooklyn Bridge. A large crowd gathered despite the bad weather. To many of the frightened onlookers Leisler still was a hero, the man who had saved them from Popery and aristocratic rule. Other witnesses gloated at the spectacle of this tyrant about to meet the fate he deserved.
In his final moments Leisler behaved with dignity. Granted the chance to make a speech, he said in part, “So far from revenge do we depart this world that we require and make it our dying request to all our relations and friends, that they should in time to come be forgetful of any injury done to us. . . .”
The trapdoors were sprung. The two men fell, danced on the air a few moments, and then perished. Their enemies cried in exultation. Their friends groaned in sorrow, women fainting and men weeping. Then Leisler’s faithful followers dashed to his broken body to snatch up souvenirs to keep the rest of their lives.