The Epic of New York City

by Edward Robb Ellis

  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 n
ew 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.