USA > New York > New York City > Old New York : a journal relating to the history and antiquities of New York City, Vol. I > Part 26
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Shall day by day my vows ascend Thy dwelling, o my God ! Who steady still in virtue's cause, Despising faction's mimic laws. The paths of peace have trod.
Too prone to heed sedition's call. Ilear me, indulgent Heaven ! O! may they cast their arms away, To Thee, and George, submission pay. Repent and be forgiven !
# Mr. Stuyvesant's seat in the Bowery. § Kingfisher. sloop of war, bound to England.
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OLD NEW YORK.
DECEMBER, 1889.
THE PRISONS OF THE REVOLUTION.
At the outbreak of the Revolution most of the British residents withdrew from this city, and others followed soon after. It could not be imagined by any optimist that New York city would es- cape the ravages of war, and the inhabitants very largely followed the examples of the officials. Some went to England, but more withdrew to country places, so that it is probable that at the time of the battle of Long Island not much more than half of the population remained. The royalists bad fled because the island was in the hands of the Americans, and the Whigs had removed because the fortunes of war might soon make it a British post. The latter happened. The unfortunate battle of Gowanns. on August 27th. 1776, delivered the whole lower part of Manhattan Island into the possession of English and Hessian troops. being occupied by them September 15th, and on the 16th of November the surrender of Fort Washington completed the transfer. Near here. also. the battle of White Plains and of Harlem had been fought. The campaign was so far much in favor of the enemy. munch spoils of war falling into his hands as well as many prisoners. One thousand are estimated thus to have been taken on Long Island. and twenty-seven hundred at Fort Washington.
What should be done with these men ? This was the question that confronted the English commander, and he solved it as Sher- man, Grant, Thomas and Lee at a later day solved it. The large vacant buildings in the town were used for prisons and hospitals, and smaller ones were occupied for other military purposes. Itisa
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large hospital that will have more than fifty or sixty beds, and here were hundreds of sick and wounded men. In most towns the size that New York was then the jails will not hold over thirty or forty prisoners, and few buildings are large enough to contain double that number. Yet, as the headquarters of the invading army in the American colonies, it might be necessary to have in custody several thousand at a time. The population had di- minished; the rebels, who were chiefly Presbyterians and Dutch
DOOR OF THE NORTH DUICH CHURCH.
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Reformed, had removed, and their churches were vacant. These edifices were accordingly the first to be used. The other churches followed, with all the other public buildings which could be spared, such as the Jail, the Bridewell, Columbia College and the Hospital. The largest buildings besides these were the sugar houses, or places where sugar was refined. Two of these were thus pressed into service. The most important prisons were the Provost, or the Jail, now the Hall of Records, and the Sugar House in Liberty street. Others were the Brick Church on Beek- man street and Park row, where the Potter building now is; the North Dutch Church, on the corner of William and Fulton streets : the Middle Dutch Church, on the east side of Nassau street, between Cedar and Liberty streets: Columbia College, at the end of Park place. as it then was : the Bridewell, in the Park, near where the City Hall is: the City Hall of that time, at the corner of Nassau street and Wall street, now occupied by the Sub-Treasury ; the Quaker Meeting House in the present Pearl street, north of the end of Ilague street ; the Presbyterian Church in Wall street, nearly opposite the end of New street: the Scotch Church in Cedar street. on the south side, half way between Nassau street and Broadway: the French Church in Pine street, at the north- east corner of Nassau, and the Rhinelander Sugar House. corner of Duane and Rose streets. Only two of these buildings are now standing. the last and the first. The rage for improvement ha destroyed all the rest. Those churches which were not so occupied were the two Episcopal churches then standing. St. George's and St. Paul's. Trinity was burned down at just about this time. The Methodist Church in Jelm street was unmolested. and the Lutheran Church in the Swamp. These were favored because John Wesley, the head of the Methodist connection, was a sup- porter of the British crown, and it was supposed his followers were also : and the church at Frankfort and Willian streers. be- cause the Hessian troops could hear service there in their own language. The Dutch Church in Garden street was not injured. nor the Jews Synagogue in Mill street, but no reason is known for this exemption. The Lutheran Church on Broadway war burned in the same fire that destroyed Trinity. to which it was a near neighbor.
RHINELANDER SUGAR HOUSE. FROM BOND STREET.
٧٤
?
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Prisons of the Revolution.
After New York had surrendered none of the American com- manders thought of making any attempt to recapture it, except when the enemy shoubl be completely driven out of other places. There was a strong sentiment in favor of Great Britain among native New Yorkers ; the island was easily defended, rough hills being at the north, and war ships completely commanding it at the south : communication was at all times open with the mother country, and there must of necessity be some place on this side of the water where military stores could be collected, and which could be used as a station for large bodies of troops. It might be devastated by fire, and this was what was charged upon the American troops by the British. Soon after the latter occupied the city, a most dreadful conflagration broke out, destroying several hundred houses. This the English writers steadily declared was done by Washington's orders. If all the houses were burned down the English must evacuate the city, there being no winter quarters, or build temporary barracks, which might also be destroyed. As a centre of operations of the King's army, there would naturally be brought to it all the suspected persons. the notorious rebels of the American Colonies. Many efforts were made to capture John Adams, Samuel Adams, William Living- ston, and Thomas Jefferson. Probably the most noted civilian taken was Laurens, once President of the Continental Congress. who was confined for a long time in the Tower of London, and the most noted military man was Charles Lee, ranking Major- General of the army. He had been ignominiously captured in his quarters, and carried off. without hat, shoes, or stockings, by a party of British dragoons. He was imprisoned in the City Hall, in Wall street. in one of the dungeons which had before been occupied by the victims of the negro plot. But many thousands of those of less rank were taken during the five years the war was in active progress. Fighting between squads of men was of daily occurrence, and many persons of consideration were set upon by small bodies of maranders and brought in by boat to the city. Others were the victims of greater contests. One of the officers thus captured ha- left us a record of the preliminary imprisonment that was his fate, before he reached New York :
" We were marched to an old stable or outhouse, where we
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Prisons of the Revolution.
found about forty or fifty prisoners already collected, principally officers. We remained on the outside of the building, and for nearly an hour sustained a series of most intolerable abuse. The term rebel, with the epithet damned before it, was the mildest we received. We were twenty times told, sometimes with a taunt- ing affectation of concern, that we should every man of us be hanged, and were nearly as many times paraded with the most inconceivable insolence, for the purpose of ascertaining whether there were not some deserters among us ; and these were always sought for among the officers, as if the lowest fellow in their army was fit for any part in ours. 'There's a fellow,' an upstart Cockney would exclaim, . that I could swear was a deserter. What countryman are you, sir? did you not belong to such a regiment ?' I was not indeed challenged for a deserter ; but the indignity of being ordered about by such contemptible whipster- for a moment unmanned me, and I was obliged to apply my handkerchief to my eyes. This was the first time in my life that I had been the victim of cruel, cowardly oppression, and I was unequal to the shock: but my elasticity of mind was soon restored, and I received it with the indignant contempt it deserved.
" For the greater convenience of guarding us we were removed from this place to the barn of Colonel Morris's house, which had been the headquarters of our army, as it now was of the royal one. This was the great bank of deposit for prisoners taken out of the fort [ Fort Washington]. and already pretty well filled. It was a goo.l. new builling, and we were ushered into it among the rest. the whole body consisting of from one hundred and fifty to two Inindred, con:po ing a motley group to be sure. Here were men and officer- of all descriptions, regulars and militia. troops Con- tinental and Stit, some in uniforms, some without them, and some in hunting shirts, the mortal aversion of a redcoat. Some of the officers had been plundered of their hats, and some of their coats : al upon the new society into which we were introduced. with whom a showy exterior was all in all. we were certainly not calculated to make a very favorable impression.
" The officer who commanded the guard in whose custody we how were was an ill-looking. low-bred fellow of this dashing corps
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of light infantry. As I stood as near as possible to the door for the sake of air, the enclosure in which we were being extremely crowded and unpleasant, I was particularly exposed to his brutality ; and repelling with some severity one of his attacks, for I was becoming desperate and careless of safety, the ruffian exclaimed. ' Not a word, sir, or I'll give you my butt,' at the same time clubbing his fusce and drawing it back as if to give the blow. I fully expected it, but he contented himself with the threat. I observed to him that I was in his power, and disposed to submit to it, thongh not proof against every provocation.
" As to see the prisoners was a matter of some curiosity, we were complimented with a continual succession of visitants, con- sisting of officers of the British: army. There were several of these present when a sergeant major came to take an account of us ; and particularly a list of such of us as were officers. This sergeant. though not uncivil, had all that animated degagée im- pudence of air which belongs to a self-complacent non-commis- sioned officer of the most arrogant army in the world ; and with his pen in his hand and his paper on his knee applied to each of us in turn for his rank. He had just set mine down, when he came to a little squat militia officer from York county, who. somewhat to the deterioration of his appearance, had substituted the dirty crown of an oll hat for a plunder-worthy beaver that had been taken from him by a Hessian. He was known to have been an officer, from having been assembled among us for the purpose of enumeration. . You are an officer, sir?' said the sergeant. . Yes,' was the answer. . Your rank, sir?' with a significant smile. . I am a loppen, replied the little man in a chuff. firm tone. Upon this there was an immoderate roar of laughter among the officers about the door, who were attending to the process, and I am not sure I did not laugh myself.
" Although the day was seasonably cool. yet from the number crowded into the barn the air within was oppres- sive and suffocating, which in addition to the agitations of the day had produced an excessive thirst, and there was a continual cry for water. I cannot say that this want was unattended to; the soldiers were continually administering to it by bringing water in a bucket. But though we, who were about the door,
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Prisons of the Revolution.
did well enough, the supply was very inadequate to such a num- ber of months, and many must have suffered much. Our sitna- tion brought to my recollection that of Captain Holwell aud his party, in the Black Hole at Calcutta ; and had the weather been equally hot we should not have been much better off."
This was the condition of prisoners who were not ill-used, and who suffered no unnecessary indignity. But when the same men began to arrive in New York, although it might have been practieable to have treated them well, no attempt was made to do so. Security must be attended to first, then comfort. The churches and jails at that time had no adequate heating arrange- ments, even when needed. The food was cooked, when cooked at all, by details from among either the soldiers or the prisoners, neither of whom professed to be experts. The food supply was such as soldiers have, served out by the commissary, who used his oldest and poorest stock for the prisoners, keeping the best for the soldiers. Judge Jones, in his History of New York, written from the Tory standpoint, declares that everything that entered New York had to pay toll to the rapacious British officials. This seems to be very thoroughly established by other testimony. It was easy to issue fifteen hundred rations and charge for them as twenty-five hundred. This was done regu- larly and habitually, but with a still greater disproportion. for men could get along in captivity on half rations better than our troops did. The water of New York at that time was bad. It was poor in quality. and insufficient in quantity. It was most likely carried to the prisons in barrels, and frequently there were long intervals between the time when all had been exhausted and a new supply came in. None was probably brought for washing. nor were laundresses allowed. It is not strange that under these conditions typhoid and jail fevers were prevalent. The fuel of New York at that time was wood. as there was an abundance of trees throughout the whole country. But parties to gather fuel were exposed to attacks. and the district within five or six miles had been pretty well thinned. Fuel consequently advanced in price to a very high figure. and at some seasons was almost impossible to get for love or money. In the hard Winter when the Hudson was frozen over. 1779-80.
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Prisons of the Revolution.
the trees on the Battery and on Wall street were sacrificed to pre- vent families from freezing. British and American physicians waited on the sick, but with little result. The environment of the ill was such that nothing practically could be done for them. For instance, what could be done for smallpox, which broke out. several times ?
Sueli were the hardships of life for twenty thousand men dur- ing the Revolution. One after another squads or companies of prisoners came in the city, were distributed in the varions strong- holds, from which a quarter emerged in life, the other three- quarters ending existence among the most wretched conditions, and being buried in common pits or in the side of sandhills, hardly enough earth being thrown over them to cover them. The principal of these prisons was the Provost. where Captain Cun- ningham had his office, Brutal beyond the ordinary conceptions of brutality, he made that place one of torment truly infernal. Little is known about him, except from a confession which first appeared in 1794, and which is now generally believed to be spurious. He was an Irishman, and a big, robust man, fond of oaths and full of curses. John Pintard thus describes the condi- tion of things here :
" The Provost was destined for the more notorious rebels, civil, naval and military. An admission into this modern Bastile was enough to appal the stoutest heart. On the right hand of the door was Captain Cunningham's quarters, opposite to which was the guard room. Within the first barricade was Sergeant Keefe's apartments. At the entrance door two sentinels were always posted by day and night ; two more at the first and second bar- ricades, which were grated, barred and chained : also at the rear door and on the platform at the grated door at the foot of the second flight of steps, leading to the rooms and cells in the second and third stories. When a prisoner, escorted by soldiers, was led into the ball. the whole guard was paraded and he was delivered over, with all formality, to Captain Cunningham or his deputy, and questioned as to his name. rank, size. age. etc., all of which were entered into a record book. What with bristling of anis, unbolting of bars and locks, clanking of enormous iron chains, and a vestibule as dark as Erebus, the unfortunate cap-
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Prisons of the Revolution.
THE PROVOST, NOW THE HALL OF RECORDS,
tive might well shrink under this infernal sight and parade of tyrannical power, as he crossed the threshold of that door which possibly closed on him for life.
" The northeast chamber, turning to the left on the second Hoor, was appropriated to officers and characters of anperior runk and distinction, and was called Congress Hall. So closely were they packed that when they lay down at night to rest, when their bones ached on the hard oak planks and they wished to turn, i- was altogether by word of command-" right, left." being so weilged and compact so as to form alnost a solid mass of human Bodies. In the daytime the packs and blankets of the prisoner> were suspended around the walls, every precaution being used to keep the rooms ventilated and the walls and floors clean, to pre- vent jail fever; and as the Provost was generally crowded with American prisoners, or British culprits of every description, it i- really wonderful that infection never broke out within its walls.
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Prisons of the Revolution.
"In this gloomy terrific abode were incarcerated at different periods many American officers and citizens of distinction await- ing with sickening hope and tantalizing expectations the protrac- ted period of their exchange and liberation. Could these dumb walls speak, what scenes of anguish, what tales of agonizing woe, might they disclose !
"Among other characters there were, at the same time, the famous Colonel Ethan Allen and Judge Fell, of Bergen County. New Jersey. When Captain Cunningham entertained the young British officers accustomed to command the provost guard, by dint of curtailing the prisoners' rations, exchanging good for bad provisions, and other embezzlements practiced on John Bull, the captain, his deputy, and indeed all the commissaries generally, were enabled to fare sumptuously. In the drunken orgies that usually terminated his dinners, the captain would order the rebel prisoners to turn ont and parade for the amusements of his guests, pointing them out --. This is the damned rebel, Colonel Ethan Allen ; that a rebel judge, an Englishman,' etc., etc."
Judge Fell was a man of station and character, living at Hack- ensack, New Jersey. He had been at the heal of the Committee of Safety in that neighborhood, a rule which he had tempered with as much mildness as was practicable. His deputy chairman was a man named Puskirk, who had been still more carnest than he, but whose andor very rapidly diminished the moment that Bergen County was overrun with British troops. Afterour mili- tary reverse- in the neighborhood of New York he judged it no longer safe to adhere to the rebels and east in his let with the con- querors at Paulus Hook as a lieutenant colonel. In 1777 Judge Fall was surprised and arrested, being then brought before Col. Buskirk. "Times have changed since last we mer," said the Colonie !. .. So I perceive." AIryly answered the Judge. .. Well." continued Buskirk. " you are now a prisoner, and going over to New York, where you will be presented to General Robertson, the commandant, with whom I have the honor to be acquainted. I will give you a letter of intro luction to him." The Judge ut- tered his thanks and retired. When he reached the city he was taken before General Robertson, with whom it happened that he had been acquainted. They were associated together at Pensa-
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Prisons of the Revolution.
cola, in Florida, after the eonelusion of the French and Indian war and the declaration of peace. The General received him warmly, shook him by the hand, deplored the sad necessity that compelled him to send the Judge to prison, and promised to do everything in his power to make his condition endurable. He inquired also whether Fell knew Col. Buskirk. The Judge re- plied that he did and said that he bore a letter of introduction from him, as they formerly had been very intimate. After the General had read the letter he placed it in the hands of his pris- oner, who, to his surprise, read these words: "Judge Fell is a notorious rebel and raseal, and I advise that due eare be taken of him." The General laughingly said, " My old friend John Fell, you must be a very altered man and a very great rascal in- deed, if you can equal this Colonel Buskirk." Robertson ful- filled his promise to Judge Fell, treated him with every kindness, recommended him to Captain Cunningham and visited him a number of times. He received great attention from his fellow prisoners in " Congress Hall," and had, as was joeularly said. the softest plank to sleep on. Ile was not long after enlarged on parole and exchanged. When this happy day arrived he sent to those who had been imprisoned with him two hampers of porter and an English cheese. that they might regale themselves.
The provisions soon vanished, for they were all hungry. Colonel Allen and Captain Travis, a native of Virginia, had been accustomed to banter each other about Vermont and Virginia, and this time, heated with the porter, which was very heady for men so long on low diet. they got as far as blows. Allen was much stronger than the captain and pummeled him well. The latter then bethought him of a practice common in the Southwest at that time, but now happily obsolete, leaped upon his antagonist. twisted a lock of Allen's hair around his fingers and proceeded to gouge out his eye. This soon brought the captor of Ticonderoga to terms, and he cried for quarter.
The father of Col. Richard Varick. afterwards Mayor of New York, was also imprisoned there. His offense was that he had a son in the rebel army, who was secretary to Gen. Schuyler. His imprisonment lasted eighteen months, and during it he contracted a violent rheumatism which continued all the remainder of his life.
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Prisons of the Revolution.
Many were nearly frozen to death here, in the winter of the fifth year of the war. The lash, too, was sometimes applied. Many officers were paroled at New Utrecht, Flatbush, and Gravesend.
This jail was built in 1757 and 175S. Those who look at our drawing can scarcely realize that the building is still standing. It is the present Hall of Records. Long after the Revolution, having in the meantime been the debtors' prison, it was transformed into a Grecian temple, and a writer in the Mirror sixty years ago characterizes it as a beautiful specimen of that kind of architec- ture. But in the unhappy times of the war, the jailor thought only of his own comfort and convenience. He cared little for the misery within its walls, nor whether men survived. Deaths hap- pened several times a day. The dead were piled up in heaps before the door, like cord wood. Executions were frequent of those who had been condemned for crime or military offenses, and we are told that at times five or six were dragged to the gallows at once. Ilangings took place north of the jail. The dead cart came every day. Bodies were thrown into pits near the Jews' burial ground. on Oliver street. and in an old redoubt in Lumber street, now Trinity place. Beggars dug these up and then stripped them. From other prisons a few were buried in Trinity Churchyard, and in some cases in Brooklyn. But most of the latter interments were from the 2 prison ships. anchored in the Wallabout and in the stream.
The Sugar House was at 34 and 36 Liberty street. This is on the south side. a little back of the present SUGAR HOUSE IN LIBERTY STREET. Mutual Life Building. It was of stone, five stories with an attic, there being two rooms on cach floor. In front of it there was a fence of ten feet high, with a wagon gate, and all around it there was space enough for a cart- way. Here sentinels were always on duty. Sergeant Waddy. a crea- ture after the Cunningham type, was in charge. His rough, unfeel-
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Prisons of the Revolution.
ing acts were long recounted by those who had been so unfortu- nate as to be immured there. New prisoners were constantly coming, and old ones dying. Very few eseaped, but there was occasionally an exchange in the latter part of the war. In such a case those who had longest been confined were selected. This prison was dark. damp and gloomy, and was overrun with rats. Until its destruction there were to be seen everywhere names. initials, and dates carved upon the stones and brieks, with a jack- knife or nail. They were the last efforts of prisoners to let their friends know what had become of them. Fever was always pres- ent here, sometimes in a very malignant form. The ventilation was very defective, and the windows in summer were filled by captives desiring a breath of fresh air. When the jail fever was rife, twenty were let out at a time to breathe the fresh air. and inside squads of six tool: turus for ten minutes. The Sugar House remained a prison till the close of the war. when it again became a sugar re- finery, being occupied by Seaman, Tobia- & Co. It was built in 1700, aml demoli-le .. in 1×40.
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