CHAPTER FIRST. THE NIGHT OF THE 10TH OF MAY.
On the night of the 10th of May, 1849, the Empire City, the
great metropolis of the Union, was the scene of one of those horrors
of civilization, which for a time make the great heart of humanity
stop in its beatings. In the darkness of night, thousands of citizens
were gathered in a central square of the most aristocratic quarter
of New York—gathered around one of its most conspicuous and
magnificent edifices, the Astor-Place Opera House.
This Opera House was built expressly for the performance of the
Italian Opera, but has been used at intervals for the legitimate
drama, for vaudevilles, and for balls and concerts. It is fitted up
and decorated with taste and magnificence, and in the opera seasons
has been attended by the most wealthy and fashionable people, who
have made extravagant displays of luxurious adornment. While the
private boxes were taken by the season, by those who wished to enjoy
the music, liked the display, and could afford the expenditure,
the other seats were let at a dollar admission, and the upper tier or
amphitheatre was reserved for people of humbler means or more modest
pretensions, at twenty-five cents a ticket.
Around this edifice, we say, a vast crowd was gathered. On the
stage the English actor Macready was trying to play the part of
Macbeth, in which he was interrupted by hisses and hootings, and
encouraged by the cheers of a large audience, who had crowded the
house to sustain him. On the outside a mob was gathering, trying
to force an entrance into the house, and throwing volleys of stones at
the barricaded windows. In the house the police were arresting
those who made the disturbance—outside they were driven back by
volleys of paving-stones.
In the midst of this scene of clamor and outrage, was heard the
clatter of a troop of horse approaching the scene. “The military—the
military are coming!” was the exclamation of the crowd. Further
on was heard the quick tramp of companies of infantry, and
there was seen the gleam of bayonets. A cry of rage burst from
the mob. The appearance of an armed force seemed to inspire them
with a sudden fury. They ceased storming the Opera House, and
turned their volleys against the horsemen. Amid piercing yells and
execrations, men were knocked from their horses, the untrained animals
were frightened, and the force was speedily routed, and could
not afterwards be rallied to perform any efficient service.
Now came the turn of the infantry. They marched down the
sidewalk in a solid column; but had no sooner taken up a position
for the protection of the house, than they were assailed with volleys
of missals. Soldiers were knocked down and carried off wounded.
Officers were disabled. An attempt to charge with the bayonet was
frustrated by the dense crowd seizing the muskets, and attempting
to wrest them from the hands of the soldiers. At last the awful
word was given to fire—there was a gleam of sulphurous light, a
sharp quick rattle, and here and there in the crowd a man sank upon
the pavement with a deep groan or a death rattle. Then came a
more furious attack, and a wild yell of vengeance! Then the rattle
of another death-dealing volley, far more fatal than the first. The
ground was covered with killed and wounded—the pavement was
stained with blood. A panic seized the multitude, which broke and
scattered in every direction. In the darkness of the night yells of
rage, screams of agony, and dying groans were mingled together.
Groups of men took up the wounded and the dead, and conveyed
them to the neighboring apothecary shops, station-houses, and the
hospital.
The horrors of that night can never be described. We looked
over the scene that misty midnight. The military, resting from their
work of death, in stern silence were grimly guarding the Opera
House. Its interior was a rendezvous and a hospital for the wounded
military and police. Here and there around the building, and at
the corners of the streets were crowds of men talking in deep and
earnest tones of indignation. There were little processions moving
off with the dead or mutilated bodies of their friends and relations.
A husband, uttering frenzied curses, followed his mortally wounded
wife to the hospital. An aged mother found her only son, the sole
support of her declining years, in the agonies of death. Many a
wife sat watching at home, in terror and alarm for her absent husband.
It was an evening of dread—and it became a night of horror,
which on the morrow, when the awful tragedy became more widely
known, settled down upon the city like a funeral pall.
The result of that night’s work was the death of twenty-two victims,
either shot dead upon the spot or mortally wounded, so that
they died within a few days; and the wounding of some thirty
more, many of whom will be maimed for life. Into the causes
which led to a result so fatal, and all the circumstances attending it,
it will now be our duty to inquire.
CHAPTER SECOND. FORREST AND MACREADY.
Mr. Edwin Forrest, the American Tragedian, was born, some
forty-five years ago, in the city of Philadelphia. He was born in
humble life, and worked his way up from poverty and obscurity to
wealth and fame, by the power of genius. When a boy, he made
his first histrionic efforts in an amateur company; afterwards, he
made a professional tour at the west.
After various adventures, young Forrest found himself in the city
of New York, in the year 1826, when Gilfert was about to open
the Bowery Theatre. He wanted a star of powerful attraction, and
his experienced eye fell on Forrest. He was engaged—puffed in
all the papers as the Native Tragedian—the patriotism of New-Yorkers
was appealed to—Forrest used his mental gifts and great
personal advantages with discretion and effect, and became a star
of the first magnitude; so that, in a short time, he demanded and
received two hundred dollars a night for his performances; and,
with energy and temperate habits, has been able to accumulate an
ample fortune.
After his first successes—determined to shine alone as a star of
the first magnitude—he offered a prize of five hundred dollars for
the best tragedy—suiting his powers as the hero; and the result
was, Mr. Stone’s “Metamora.” Soon after, he secured the “Gladiator,”
written by Dr. Bird. These have been his most successful
performances, and in them he has had no competitor, nor is it likely
that he would find an equal.
Mr. William C. Macready is an English actor of great eminence.
He was born in the city of Cork, (Ireland,) and must now be nearly
seventy years old. In the early part of his theatrical career, he
was most distinguished in such parts as “Virginius,” “William Tell,”
“Pierre,” “Carwin,” &c.; but of late, he has given his chief attention
to the plays of Shakspeare—in which he has shown himself a
thorough artist.
In 1827—one year after the successful commencement of Mr.
Forrest’s career as a star of the first magnitude—Mr. Macready
visited the United States. In a fit of petulance, in which such actors
are too apt to indulge, Mr. Macready came near fomenting a disturbance
in Baltimore, which, but for his adroit management, might
have caused him then to have been driven from the American stage.
In playing “William Tell,” the property-man had forgotten to furnish
the arrow to be broken; and Macready was obliged to break
one of his shooting arrows. In his anger at the offending party,
he said—“I can’t get such an arrow in your country, sir!” or, as it
was reported—“I can’t get wood to make such an arrow in your
country!” This was construed into an insult to the country. Anonymous
letters were sent to the newspapers; but, as these were
sent to Mr. M., he had an opportunity to make an explanation, and
avoid a row.
Macready and Forrest were starring through the country, playing
alternate engagements—but not, so far as we know, developing any
very decided feelings of rivalry. Their roles of characters, and
spheres of action, were quite apart; and when they met each other,
their intercourse—as it was many years afterward—was of the most
gentlemanly character.
About the year 1835, Mr. Forrest went to Europe, and spent
some time in travelling on the continent; after which, he returned
to America for a short time; and then went back to England, to
fulfil professional engagements—in which he was so highly successful,
that on his return, he was honored with a public dinner in Philadelphia;
and about this time, he was tendered a nomination to
Congress by the Democracy of New York—before whom he delivered
a Fourth of July oration.
In 1844, Mr. Macready visited the United States. He and Mr.
Forrest had become intimate in England; and here, Mr. F. tendered
him the courtesies due to so distinguished a professional brother;
but it so happened, that in most of the cities where Macready was
engaged, there were more theatres than one—and, of consequence,
rival managers. Where one of these had secured Mr. Macready,
the other was anxious to get the best talent to be found to run
against him; and there was no one so available as Mr. Forrest—who
is not the man to refuse a profitable engagement, nor did any
rule of courtesy require that he should do so.
The result was, that the constant rivalry of Forrest, though carried
on in the most friendly manner, could not fail to injure the success
of Macready. A certain degree of partizanship was everywhere
excited—for Forrest was everywhere placarded as the “American
Tragedian,”—and the tour of Mr. Macready was comparatively a
failure. A sensitive man could not but feel this; and whether he
made any complaint or not, his friends saw what the difficulty was,
and felt not a little chagrined about it; and when Mr. Forrest made
his next and last professional visit to England, this feeling among
the friends of Macready, in the theatrical press and the play-going
public, found its vent. The opposition to him was, from the first,
marked and fatal; and, so far as the metropolis was concerned, his
tour was a failure. It was only in the provinces—away from London
influence—that he met with any degree of success.
There was no need of Mr. Macready taking any active part in this
matter; and there is no proof that he did so, but much to the contrary;
but Mr. Forrest hastily and indignantly, and, we doubt not,
sincerely, charged it upon Mr. Macready; and one night, when the
latter was playing in “Hamlet,” at the Theatre in Edinburgh, Mr.
Forrest, who was seated in a private box, had the bad taste, as well
as bad feeling, to hiss a portion of his performance in the most
marked and offensive manner.
The following letter from Mr. Forrest gives his own account of
this affair, which differs somewhat from the statements of Mr. Macready’s
friends, as will be seen hereafter.
To the Editor of the London Times,—Sir,—Having seen in your journal of
the 12th instant, an article headed “Professional Jealousy,” a part of which originally
appeared in The Scotsman published in Edinburgh, I beg leave, through
the medium of your columns, to state, that at the time of its publication, I addressed
a letter to the Editor of The Scotsman upon the subject, which, as I
then was in Dumfries, I sent to a friend in Edinburgh, requesting him to obtain
its insertion; but as I was informed, The Scotsman refused to receive any communication
upon the subject. I need say nothing of the injustice of this refusal.
Here then I was disposed to let the matter rest, as upon more mature reflection,
I did not deem it worth further attention; but now, as the matter has assumed
“a questionable shape” by the appearance of the article in your journal, I feel
called upon, although reluctantly, to answer it.
There are two legitimate modes of evincing approbation and disapprobation
in the theatre—one expressive of approbation, by the clapping of hands, and
the other by hisses to mark dissent; and as well-timed and hearty applause, is
the just meed of the actor who deserves well, so also is hissing, a salutary and
wholesome corrective of the abuses of the stage; and it was against one of these
abuses that my dissent was expressed, and not, as was stated, “with a view of
expressing his (my) disapproval of the manner in which Mr. Macready gave
effect to a particular passage.” The truth is, Mr. Macready thought fit to introduce
a fancy dance into his performance of “Hamlet,” which I thought, and
still think, a desecration of the scene, and at which I evinced that disapprobation,
for which the pseudo-critic is pleased to term me an “offender,” and this was
the only time during the performance that I did so, although the writer evidently
seeks, in the article alluded to, to convey a different impression. It must be
observed also, that I was by no means “solitary” in this expression of opinion.
That a man may manifest his pleasure or displeasure after the recognised
mode, according to the best of his judgment, actuated by proper motives, and
for justifiable ends, is a right, which, until now, I have never once heard questioned,
and I contend, that right extends equally to an actor, in his capacity as
a spectator, as to any other man; besides, from the nature of his studies, he is
much more competent to judge of a theatrical performance than any soidisant
critic, who has never himself been an actor. The writer of the article in The
Scotsman, who has most unwarrantably singled me out for public animadversion,
has carefully omitted to notice the fact, that I warmly applauded several points
of Mr. Macready’s performance; and more than once I regretted that the audience
did not second me in so doing. As to the pitiful charge of professional
jealousy preferred against me, I dismiss it with the contempt it merits, confidently
relying upon all those of the profession with whom I have been associated,
for a refutation of this slander.
Yours, respectfully,
Edwin Forrest.
March, 1846.
—Times, 4th of April.
CHAPTER THIRD. THE QUARREL RECOMMENCED IN AMERICA.
Mr. Forrest, chagrined by his failure in England, and maddened
at what he imagined to be the malign influence of Macready, returned
to the United States after a vain attempt to secure an engagement
in Paris, in which he supposed the same influence had
defeated him. He had publicly hissed Macready in Edinburgh, had
avowed the act, and given his reasons. His friends here felt much
as the friends of Mr. Macready had felt in England; and when the
latter last year came on another professional visit to the United
States, he found that a bitter feeling had been raised against him,
which found its first expression, so far as we know, in the following
article, that appeared in the Boston Mail on the morning of Mr.
Macready’s appearance at the Howard Athenæum, Boston, Monday,
Oct. 30th, 1848.
[Boston Mail, Oct. 30th, 1848.]
More about Macready—His abuse of Forrest in Europe—Endeavors to put him
down in Paris, London and Edinburgh—His Intrigue with Bulwer to prevent
Forrest playing in Bulwer’s Pieces—His Abuse of Americans.
Mr. Macready has at length arrived, and next to the grand water celebration,
will create such excitement, as will emphatically mark the present epoch in
time’s calendar. He plays this evening at the Howard Athenæum, and refuses
to show himself for less than one dollar a ticket. This was his price in New
York, and with the exception of the first night, resulted in a “beggarly account
of empty boxes.” We repeat what we said in a former article, that Mr. Pelby,
the enterprising manager of the National Theatre, deserves immortal honors for
not acceding to the dictatorial terms of this actor autocrat. Although Macready
saw fit on his opening night in New York, on being called out by some friends,
to slur a “certain penny paper,” that had “dared” to express an opinion regarding
his talents and conduct, we shall not by any means give him the retort
churlish; we only pity his ignorance of the institutions of this country, and hope
for his own credit’s sake that he will not, when he gets home, write a black book
about American manners, &c., a la Trollope and others, but if he does, that he
will spare us in the production of his brain. The reader will no doubt ask,
what fault we find with Mr. Macready. Has he not the same right as other
men have, to do as he pleases? We answer yes. He has a right to come to
this country in the exercise of his profession; he has a right to demand a dollar
from every person who witnesses his acting, and if managers of Theatres are
willing to accede to his arbitrary proposals, he has certainly a right to make
them. We complain not of any of these. Our charges against Macready are
based upon more important grounds. It is his conduct in his own country in
relation to Mr. Forrest, that we are about investigating; his inhospitality, his
crushing influence, his vindictive opposition, and his steadfast determination to
ruin the prospects of that gentleman in England, that we bring to his door.
Let him deny them if he can. Every true American takes a pride in that
which represents his country’s interests, industry, and enterprise, and from the
smallest commodity gathered from his soil to the loftiest labors of his genius,
his ambition goes with it, and the strong arm of his power will protect it in
every clime. Mr. Edwin Forrest is titled the American Tragedian—he is justly
entitled to that honor—he has acquired it by his own labors; from a poor boy
in a circus, he has arisen to be a man of fame and wealth, all of which he has
lastingly gained by enterprise and talent, and secured both by economy and
TEMPERANCE.
Every American-born man is willing that Mr. Forrest should wear this title,
and when he visited England they were anxiously interested in his success.
Macready had previously been in this country, and played engagements in
every city, and made a fortune. He was extolled by the press, and treated as
a gentleman by the citizens of ever place visited. But instead of returning
this kindness, he acted openly towards Mr. Forrest as his determined foe. We
speak by card, and write upon the very best information, viz., the highest authority.
In Paris Mr. Macready and Mr. Forrest met. The latter was anxious to
[Pg 11]
appear on the French boards; but Macready threw obstacles in the way, and
this was the first time that the two parties were enemies. Mr. Mitchell, the
enterprising lessee of St. James Theatre in London, took an English company of
actors to the French capital, with Mr. Macready at the head of the list. Macready
was to be the hero—the great attraction of Paris. He failed, however,
to draw money to the treasury, and Mr. Mitchell lost a large sum by the speculation,
or rather would have lost it, if Louis Philippe had not made him most
liberal presents. Mr. Forrest had letters of introduction to Mr. Mitchell from
his friends in London, but Macready was jealous, lest Forrest should prove to
be the great star, and he cautioned Mitchell not to allow Forrest to appear.
The result was that Mr. Mitchell refused to see Mr. Forrest.
The parties returned to London. The hypocrisy of Macready is apparent in
his note of invitation to Mr. Forrest to dine with him. The latter, knowing the
intrigue that had been carried on in Paris between Macready and Mitchell, refused,
as every high-minded man should, to dine with him. This is a very different
version to that recently given by some of Macready’s friends—if friends he
have—that Forrest was offended because he was not invited to dine; as if such
a man as Mr. Forrest could take offence at such a trifle, when at the same time
he was invited to dine with many of the leading nobility of England, but especially
of Scotland, where he passed several months as their guest.
The next mean act towards Forrest, brought about through the influence of
Macready, was when Mr. F. appeared at the Princess’s Theatre in London.
Mac had been endeavoring for a long time to effect an engagement with some
London manager, but was unsuccessful. The success of Forrest stung him, and
he resolved to “put him down.” It was said at the time that he or his friends
actually hired men to visit the theatre, and hiss Forrest off the stage, and Forrest
was consequently received with a shower of hisses before he was heard.
This mean conduct was followed up by the press, by which Forrest was most
outrageously assailed, and not Forrest alone, but his country, which is proud
to own him as one of her sons.
Forrest and Macready next met in Edinburgh, and from this city were sent
forth the grossest calumnies against Forrest. Macready was playing at the
Theatre Royal in Hamlet—Forrest was present. During the beginning of the
piece Mr. Forrest applauded several times, and, as we are informed by an eyewitness,
he started the applause when some brilliant effect had been given to a
passage, so that the whole house followed him. But now comes Forrest’s great
sin—that giant sin which Mac will never forgive—the sin of hissing Macready
for dancing and throwing up his handkerchief across the stage in the Pas de
Mouchoir.
Mr. F. not only hissed, but the whole house hissed, and yet Macready dared to
write to London, that Forrest had singly and alone attempted to hiss him from
the stage.
To show that Mr. Forrest was not alone in this matter, we are able to state
that two weeks afterwards Hamlet was repeated, when the whole house again
hissed Macready’s dance across the stage.
Out of this simple incident Macready contrived to create a great deal of sympathy
for himself. He is, or was, part proprietor of the London Examiner; or
if not sole owner, he possesses the body and soul of its theatrical critic, Foster,
who does all kinds of dirty work for his master. Macready gave the cue to Foster,
and Forrest was denounced by the Examiner and other papers, in which
Foster or Mac had any influence. A false coloring was put on this affair, and
Mac appeared to the world as a persecuted man, whereas Forrest was the one
who met with persecution at every corner—in Paris, in London, in Edinburgh,
and in London a second time.
But Macready’s persecution did not stop here. Forrest wished to appear in
London, in Bulwer’s Lady of Lyons and Richelieu. To do this, permission must
be obtained of the author. Forrest addressed a note to Bulwer, asking his terms
for the plays. After a long delay, Bulwer replied, that he should charge Forrest
£2 per night for the use of them, and he must play 40 nights! Such terms
for plays, that had in a great measure lost their interest, compelled Forrest to
reject them. It was ascertained that Macready and Bulwer had been much
[Pg 12]
together, and that the former had prevailed on the latter not to allow Forrest the
use of his compositions.
Forrest could not entertain any jealous feelings towards Mac, for he drew
crowded houses during his engagement at the Princess’s Theatre, whereas Macready
had very slim audiences; and on one occasion we know that our own
charming actress, Mrs. Barrett, on one of the off-nights, at the time Mac was
playing, actually drew more money to the treasury than Macready.
We have now given a plain statement of facts, and such as cannot be controverted.
It proves that actors, like Macready, Anderson, and others, find it very
hard scratching in their own country, and much better pickings here. It is to be
hoped, however, that we Americans will finally become awakened to the mercenary
motives of such artistes, and when we have any surplus of dollars to
spend, that we will be generous and just to our own home genius.
Here is displayed the feeling of the friends of Mr. Forrest, and to
a great extent of Mr. Forrest himself, for the writer of this article
asserts that its statements are made on the “very highest authority.”
On his part Mr. Macready unwisely alluded to this article in one of
his before-the-curtain speeches, speaking contemptuously of the attacks
of a certain penny paper. But the Bostonians are a quiet people,
and Macready and Forrest played through their engagements
without any popular demonstration. At New York Macready played
at the Opera House, and Forrest at the Broadway Theatre.
There were rumors of a disturbance, but they amounted to nothing.
Both engagements were finished in peace, and both actors went to
fulfil engagements at the rival theatres in Philadelphia.
Now Forrest had made some pretence of retiring from the stage—he
had built him a splendid castle on the banks of the Hudson, and
had achieved a splendid fortune—but here he was, following up
Macready step by step, and making no concealment of his enmity.
His friends were doubtless busy, especially in Philadelphia, his birth
place. The two actors made mouths and speeches at each other.
One night Macready alluded to the ungenerous treatment he had
received from a rival actor. This brought Forrest out in the following:—
CARD.
Mr. Macready, in his speech, last night, to the audience assembled at the Arch
Street Theatre, made allusion, I understand, to “an American actor” who had
the temerity, on one occasion, “openly to hiss him.” This is true, and by the
way, the only truth which I have been enabled to gather from the whole scope
of his address. But why say “an American actor?” Why not openly charge
me with the act? for I did it, and publicly avowed it in the Times newspaper
of London, and at the same time asserted my right to do so.
On the occasion alluded to, Mr. Macready introduced a fancy dance into his
performance of Hamlet, which I designated as a pas de mouchoir, and which I
hissed, for I thought it a desecration of the scene, and the audience thought so,
too, for in a few nights afterwards, when Mr. Macready repeated the part of
Hamlet with the same “tom-foolery,” the intelligent audience of Edinburgh
greeted it with a universal hiss.
Mr. Macready is stated to have said last night, that up to the time of this act
on my part, he had “never entertained towards me a feeling of unkindness.” I
unhesitatingly pronounce this to be a wilful and unblushing falsehood. I most
solemnly aver and do believe, that Mr. Macready, instigated by his narrow envious mind,
and his selfish fears, did secretly—not openly—suborn several writers
[Pg 13]
for the English press, to write me down. Among them was one Forster, a
“toady” of the eminent tragedian—one who is ever ready to do his dirty work;
and this Forster, at the bidding of his patron, attacked me in print even before I
appeared upon the London boards, and continued his abuse at every opportunity
afterwards.
I assert, also, and solemnly believe, that Mr. Macready connived, when his
friends went to the theatre in London to hiss me, and did hiss me, with the purpose
of driving me from the stage—and all this happened many months before
the affair at Edinburgh, to which Mr. Macready refers, and in relation to which
he jesuitically remarks, that “until that act, he never entertained towards me a
feeling of unkindness.” Bah! Mr. Macready has no feeling of kindness for any
actor who is likely, by his talent, to stand in his way. His whole course as
manager and as actor proves this—there is nothing in him but self—self—self—and
his own countrymen, the English actors, know this well. Mr. Macready has
a very lively imagination, and often draws upon it for his facts. He said in a
speech at New York, that there, also, there was an “organized opposition” to
him, which is likewise false. There was no opposition manifested towards him
there—for I was in the city at the time, and was careful to watch every movement
with regard to such a matter. Many of my friends called upon me when
Mr. Macready was announced to perform, and proposed to drive him from the
stage for his conduct towards me in London. My advice was, do nothing—let
the superannuated driveller alone—to oppose him would be but to make him of
some importance. My friends agreed with me it was, at least, the most dignified
course to pursue, and it was immediately adopted. With regard to “an organized
opposition to him” in Boston, this is, I believe, equally false, but perhaps in
charity to the poor old man, I should impute these “chimeras dire,” rather to
the disturbed state of his guilty conscience, than to any desire on his part wilfully
to misrepresent.
Edwin Forrest.
Philadelphia, Nov. 21, 1848.
This violent and vindictive, but characteristic manifesto, as may
be supposed, did not help Mr. Forrest’s cause very materially, with
quiet and well-judging people, but it probably found sympathy
among heated partizans, and those who supposed the honor and
glory of the country was at stake. Mr. Macready appears to have
made up his mind at once to sue Forrest for a libel, and accordingly
he issued the following:—
CARD
TO THE PUBLIC OF PHILADELPHIA.
In a card published in the Public Ledger and other morning papers of this
day, Mr. Forrest having avowed himself the author of the statements, which Mr.
Macready has solemnly pledged his honor to be without the least foundation,
Mr. Macready cannot be wanting in self-respect so far as to bandy words upon
the subject, but as the circulation of such statements is manifestly calculated to
prejudice Mr. Macready in the opinion of the American Public, and affect both
his professional interests and his estimation in society, Mr. Macready respectfully
requests the public to suspend their judgment upon the question, until the
decision of a Legal Tribunal, before which he will immediately take measures to
bring it, and before which he will prove his veracity, hitherto unquestioned, shall
place the truth beyond doubt.
Reluctant as he is to notice further Mr. Forrest’s Card, Mr. Macready has to
observe, that when Mr. Forrest appeared at the Princess’s Theatre in London,
he himself was absent some hundred miles from that city, and was ignorant of
his engagement until after it had begun; that not one single notice on Mr.
Forrest’s acting appeared in the Examiner during that engagement (as its
[Pg 14]
files will prove.) Mr. Forster, the distinguished Editor, whom Mr. Macready has
the honor to call his friend, having been confined to his bed with a rheumatic
fever during the whole period, and some weeks before and after.
For the other aspersions upon Mr. Macready, published in the Boston Mail,
and now, as it is understood, avowed by Mr. Forrest, Mr. Macready will without
delay appeal for legal redress.
Jones’s Hotel, Nov. 22d, 1848.
Immediately after publishing the above, Mr. Macready committed
to his counsel, Messrs. Reed & Meredith, of Philadelphia, authority
to commence such legal proceedings as they might deem advisable:
and, preparatory thereto, he obtained from England the documentary
evidence.
As regards the charge of suborning the English press, it will be
sufficient here to refer to the Times, Globe, Observer, Spectator,
Morning Chronicle, Morning Post, Weekly Dispatch, Britannia, &c.,
&c., of dates Dec. 13, 14, 15, 16, &c., which have indignantly and
emphatically denied the charge; many of which denials have already
been republished in the American newspapers.
It appears, however, that when Mr. Macready came to consult his
legal advisers, two eminent Philadelphia lawyers, they wisely advised
him to let the matter drop, and be satisfied with his reputation. So
Macready went South, and was feted and feasted in New Orleans to
his heart’s content, but to the grievous discontent of Mr. Forrest and
his numerous admirers.
In the meantime, Macready had written to England for evidence to
prove that the statements in Mr. Forrest’s Philadelphia card were
libelous; and when he decided to give up his law suit, he caused
these documents to be printed in a pamphlet, which however, he
soon withdrew from public circulation. There were letters from
Edinburgh to prove that Mr. Forrest was alone in hissing the “fancy
dance” in Hamlet; letters from the proprietor and theatrical critic
of the London Examiner, to show that Macready had not influenced
any criticisms on Forrest in that paper; from Sir E. Bulwer Lytton,
asserting that he had offered his plays to Mr. Forrest for a fair consideration,
and had not withheld them at the request of Mr. Macready,
with other equally pertinent documents. But what avail were these?
The friends of Forrest felt sure that he had been shamefully treated
in England, by the friends of Macready; and whether he was a party
to the matter or not, they meant to hold him responsible, and therefore
it was determined that he should never play another engagement
in New York, and that determination was enforced, but oh! at
what a fearful sacrifice.
CHAPTER FOURTH. THE PLOT THICKENS—THE ENGAGEMENT AT THE OPERA. HOUSE—MACREADY DRIVEN FROM THE STAGE.
It must not be supposed that this was the first manifestation of
patriotic indignation on the part of the friends of Mr. Forrest, on
account of his treatment in England. It was a deep and intense
feeling, and was ready to burst out on any fitting occasion. It
threatened Mr. Anderson, and in Philadelphia an effort was made to
drive him from the stage; but a better feeling prevailed. Anderson
was not charged with any ill-will to Mr. Forrest, and the opposition
to him was abandoned: yet there were not wanting persons who
contended that every English actor ought to be driven from the
American stage, in revenge for the insult offered by England to this
country, in the person of Edwin Forrest.
But when Macready, who was charged by Forrest himself with
being the head and front of this offending, came to the United States,
the flame of hatred was ready to burst forth, and the only wonder
is, that it remained pent up so long. On his return from the South,
Messrs. Niblo and Hackett, who had taken the Opera House for that
purpose, announced that Mr. Macready would open an engagement
on Monday night, May 7th. Mr. Forrest was playing at the Broadway
Theatre. Previous to the commencement of this engagement, Mr.
Macready gave a reading of a play of Shakspeare before the teachers
of the public schools of New York and Brooklyn.
The announcement of this engagement was the signal for an outbreak
of long-smothered indignation. It was determined that Mr.
Forrest should be avenged, and that Macready should not be permitted
to play before a New York audience. There was a combination of
exciting causes—the feeling against England and Englishmen, handed
down to us from the Revolution, and kept fresh by the insults and
abuse of British writers on American manners—the injury committed
against Forrest, with Macready as its presumed cause, and this was
increased by the fact of Macready playing at the aristocratic, kidglove
Opera House. Far be it from us to justify these feelings—it
is our duty simply to state the fact of their existence.
The public and magistrates have been accustomed to look upon
theatrical disturbances, rows, and riots, as different in their character
from all others. The stage is presumed to be a correction of the
manners and morals of the public, and on the other hand the public
has been left to correct, in its own energetic way, the manners and
morals of the stage; and magistrates, looking upon it as a matter
between the actors and the audience, have generally refused to
interfere, unless there was a prospect of a violent breach of the
peace, when they have usually ordered the house to be closed. In
these theatrical disturbances, performances have been hissed, plays
damned, and actors and actresses driven from the stage, with
whatever degree of force has been necessary for their rejection. This
has been the practice in the United States, as well as in Europe, and
no actor, in any free country, has thought of acting with a posse of
police at his back; much less, a file of soldiers, or a piece of artillery,
to defend his rights.
On the announcement of Mr. Macready’s engagement at the Opera
House, it was determined that there should be a pretty forcible
expression of opinion on the part of those who were indignant at the
treatment of Mr. Forrest in England, and were willing, for any reason,
to revenge it on Mr. Macready. There was, doubtless, some organization
of forces, to bring about this result, and one person, the well-known
Capt. Rynders, admits that he purchased and distributed
among his friends fifty tickets, with the understanding that those who
used them were to assist in hissing Macready from the stage. Other
sums of money were given, and when the night arrived, it was estimated,
by the Chief of Police, that not less than five hundred persons
were engaged in the disturbance.
The night came—the house was crowded, and there was an ominous
looking gallery. The curtain rose, and some of the actors, who were
popular favorites, were received with obstreperous applause; but
when Macready appeared upon the stage, in the character of Macbeth,
he was assailed by a storm of hisses, yells, and a clamor that defies
description. He stood his ground firmly, and the play went on, but
not a word could be heard by the audience. It was in dumb show.
The clamor rose higher and higher, and as hisses and threats, cat-calls
and yells, were not enough to drive the obnoxious actor from the
stage, less legitimate means were resorted to. Rotten eggs were
thrown, pennies, and other missiles; and soon, still more outrageous
demonstrations were made, and chairs were thrown from the upper
part of the house, so as to peril life.
The Chief of Police was present, with a number of policemen;
but the rioters boldly defied the authorities, and no arrests were
attempted. It is said, in excuse, that the rioters were in overpowering
numbers, that they were prepared to resist and rescue, and that
they had even prepared papers of gunpowder to throw into the
magnificent chandelier. A large portion of the audience consisted
of ladies, whose lives might have been endangered, and there was
nothing to do but to stop the performance. The curtain went down;
cheers were given for Forrest, and groans for Macready, and the
crowd dispersed.
Mr. Macready supposed that his engagement was terminated.
He had no idea of ever making a second appearance; but his friends
and the enemies of Forrest insisted upon a different course. He was
assured that the public would sustain him, and the managers did not
wish to lose the profits of his engagement. Mr. Hackett is a personal
enemy of Forrest, and he was determined to play Macready against
him at all hazards. Finally, a number of influential citizens, men of
wealth and standing, with Washington Irving at their head, wrote a
formal request to Mr. Macready that he should play out his engagement,
and pledging themselves that the public should sustain him;
and it was determined and announced that he should appear on
Thursday evening, May 10th.
This announcement, as may be supposed, excited the indignation
of those who had driven him from the stage. It was a combination
of the aristocracy against the people, and in support of English
arrogance, and it was determined that Macready should not play, and
that he and his supporters should be put down at all hazards. The
lessees of the Theatre were informed that the re-opening of the
Theatre with Mr. Macready, would be the signal for riot; the magistrates
of the city were informed of it, and were implored to avert
the calamity by refusing to allow the house to be opened—for as the
city authorities have the right to regulate Theatres, and to make
them pay five hundred dollars a year for a license, it was presumed
that they had also the right to close them. So thought the Mayor,
and so he wished to act; but the lessees insisted upon their legal
rights, and demanded the protection of the authorities, and the fatal
decision was made which made New York, a few hours afterward,
one wide scene of horror.
CHAPTER FIFTH. THE COMBAT DEEPENS.
The announcement that Mr. Macready would appear at the Opera
House in Macbeth on Thursday evening produced a varied excitement
throughout the community. Those who thought the city disgraced
by the scenes of Monday night were anxious to have that disgrace
atoned for by his successful re-appearance, while those who sympathized
with the mob that drove him from the stage, looked upon his
re-appearance as a new insult, and the manner in which it was
brought about was as irritating to them as the act itself.
A riot was anticipated by all who were acquainted with the circumstances,
except, perhaps the object of popular indignation. Mr.
Macready was assured that there would be no difficulty, and he
seems to have believed it—but those who so assured him well understood
that those who had triumphantly driven him from the stage
on Monday were not likely to submit quietly to his re-appearance.
Thursday morning, the leaders on both sides were active. The
friends of Forrest were gathering their forces, and distributing tickets
for the night’s performance, while the lessees of the Opera
House applied to the mayor and other authorities of New York for
protection. Inflammatory handbills had been posted upon the
walls of the city, calculated to increase the excitement. In the mayor’s
office, the recorder, the chief of police, the sheriff, Major General
Sandford, and Brigadier General Hall, were assembled to consult
on the means of protecting the Opera House, and enabling Mr.
Macready to play Macbeth.
The mayor, Mr. Woodhull, advised Niblo and Hackett to close the
house, and to avoid a riot, and the probable destruction of property
and life; but these gentlemen were determined to stand upon their
rights, and the city authorities decided, after consulting together, to
sustain them, if necessary, with all the force at their disposal. Mr.
Matsell, the chief of police, was asked if the civil force at his disposal
would be sufficient for the preservation of the peace, and
though he had nine hundred salaried policemen at his disposal, and
the power of calling in specials at discretion, he gave it as his opinion
that this force was not sufficient. It was thought necessary to call
out the military.
It has been boldly questioned whether all these extraordinary
preparations would have been made to protect the legal rights of
humble citizens. Rich and influential men had invited Mr. Macready
to play at the aristocratic Opera House. Suppose it had
been some third-rate actor at the Chatham; suppose the request for
him to play had come from the patrons of that establishment. The
abstract question of right would have been the same; but there are
many who would doubt whether the city authorities would have
taken the extraordinary measure of calling out the military—and
this was probably the first time such a thing was ever done under
any but the most despotic governments.
The fact of the chief of police declaring that his force was not
sufficient to preserve the peace—the fact that General Sandford was
ordered to call out a military force sufficient for the emergency,
proves that the nature and extent of the approaching riot was well
understood by the authorities, and still no means were used to prevent
it. It seems to have been their policy to let it gather, and come
to a head, when, one would suppose, it might easily have been scattered.
Had the police arrested a few of the leaders, and kept a
close watch on the rioters—had they taken possession of the vicinity
of the Opera House in force, and prevented the gathering of a
crowd around it, it seems probable that the peace of the city, and
the rights of Mr. Macready might have been maintained at a trifling
sacrifice. But a different course was decided upon, and the
preparations of the military and police were made accordingly. The
chief detached two hundred policemen, to be stationed inside the
Opera House. He also placed a detachment in the stable of Mr.
Langdon, on the opposite side of Astor-Place, and another body in
a yard near by. General Sandford ordered out companies from several
regiments, as will be more particularly stated hereafter.
And now the news spread all over the city that there was to be a
riot. The warning out of large bodies of military, was alone sufficient
to excite curiosity; and yet, in all this excitement and anticipation
of outrage, the mayor issued no warning proclamation. There
was no one to tell hot-headed and misguided men, that it would be
at the peril of their lives, if they disturbed the peace. It is evident
that they thought they had a right to prevent Macready from playing.
They were doing no more by him than the English had done by
Forrest, and they looked upon it as a piece of retributive justice.
It must not be forgotten, that New York, for many years, has been
a very quiet city. For ten years, there had not been one serious
riot. The principles of law and order are habitually acknowledged,
and have seldom been violated. While Philadelphia has been, for
years, the scene of the most disgraceful outrages, New York has not
known a more serious disturbance than could be controlled by a few
policemen. But in this case, every body rushed into a fatal riot,
with a mad precipitation. The calling out of the military sent
thousands to the scene of conflict, who would not otherwise have
gone, swelled the crowd, encouraged the rioters, and contributed to
the fatal result.
It is easy to say, people had no business there; they ought to
have kept away. It would be hard to show that those who were
outside the house had not as good a right to gratify their curiosity
as those within. But, right or wrong, we know very well what
people will do in such a case. Let it be given out that there is to
be a disturbance at any place, and that the military have been called
out to put it down, and the consequence will be a gathering crowd,
and, if there is the slightest seeming cause, a formidable riot. It
seems that all the means used on the tenth of May, to preserve the
peace, only helped to bring about the terrible catastrophe.
Mr. Forrest has been charged with actively fomenting these disturbances.
Such a charge was made in the Courier & Enquirer,
but it was promptly retracted, under threat of prosecution for libel,
from Mr. Sedgwick, Forrest’s legal counsel. It does not appear that
he moved at all in the matter. He stood passive, and let the affair
shape itself as it might, as there is reason to suppose Mr. Macready
had done, in England. On the night of the riot, Forrest played to a
full house at the Broadway Theatre.
It would seem, after the publication of the card, signed by Washington
Irving, Charles King, and about fifty others, denouncing the
outrages of Monday night, and pledging themselves to sustain
Macready, that the contest took on a new character. Macready was
a subordinate personage, and he was to be put down less on his own
account, than to spite his aristocratic supporters. The question
became not only a national, but a social one. It was the rich against
the poor—the aristocracy against the people; and this hatred of
wealth and privilege is increasing over the world, and ready to burst
out whenever there is the slightest occasion. The rich and well-bred
are too apt to despise the poor and ignorant, and they must not think
it strange if they are hated in return.
CHAPTER SIXTH. THE SCENES OF THE FATAL NIGHT.
As the hour for the opening of the Opera House approached, excited
crowds began to gather from all parts of the city. Hundreds
of men were seen walking rapidly up Broadway. There was a great
rush for tickets, and at an early hour the house was declared full,
and the sale of tickets suspended. Among the audience in the
house were seven ladies. The police were at their stations, and the
doors and windows were strongly barricaded.
It should here be stated that the Opera House is situated midway
between Broadway and the Bowery, one side fronting on Eighth
Street, the other on Astor-Place. The end toward Broadway is
covered by buildings, but there is an open space to the Bowery.
While the crowd was gathering outside, and endeavoring to force
an entrance, in which they were prevented by the police, the curtain
rose, and the mock tragedy commenced. Mr. Clark, an American
actor, was vociferously applauded in the part of Macduff. The entrance
of Mr. Macready in the third scene was the signal for a storm
of cheers, groans, hisses, and yells. The whole audience rose, and
the greatest part, who were friendly to Macready, cheered and
waved their hats and handkerchiefs; but when these cheers were
spent, the noise had not subsided. A large body in the parquette,
and another in the amphitheatre hissed and groaned, and the contest
was kept up until a placard was displayed on the stage, on
which was written—“The friends of order will remain quiet.” The
friends of disorder, however, kept up their noise through the first
act, when the recorder and chief of police decided to quell the tumult;
and in a few moments the noisiest of the rioters were arrested,
and conveyed to a room in the basement, and the play went on in
comparative quietness.
But by the time the tumult was suppressed in the house, it had
gained its height on the outside. A vast crowd numbering ten or
fifteen thousand, had gathered around the building, chiefly in Astor-
Place, and by the time the arrests were made in the house, and probably
in consequence of some communication between the rioters in
the theatre and their friends outside, the house began to be assailed
with large paving-stones, of which, owing to the digging of a sewer
near by, there was a large supply. The stones crashed against the
windows, and in some instances broke through the barricades. After
the tragedy was over, the farce commenced, but it was brought to
an end by the firing of the military; and the alarmed and excited
audience left the theatre by the entrance in Eighth Street, under the
cover of the military, while Mr. Macready got away in the disguise
of an officer; and mounting a horse, escorted by a party of his
friends, he left the city, and the next day took the cars for Boston,
whence a few days afterward he sailed to Europe. Before leaving
he expressed the deepest regret that he had not refused to appear
again, in accordance with his first intention.
From the testimony of the actors and spectators of the terrible
scenes which occurred that night, we have selected four accounts—that
of Sidney H. Stewart, Esq. Clerk of the Police, a man of
observation and experience in that department; that of Major
General Sandford, the Commander-in-Chief of the military; that
of Stephen W. Gaines, Esq. and Thomas J. Belvin, Esq. disinterested
spectators. From the sworn testimony of these four witnesses,
may be gathered a pretty correct idea of the action of the public
authorities, the police, the military, the rioters, and the spectators.
TESTIMONY OF SIDNEY H. STEWART.
Sidney H. Stewart, Clerk of the Police, states what he saw and heard before
the arrival of the military: “I left the Tombs that evening in company with
Justice McGrath, and arrived at the Astor Theatre about 7 o’clock; soon after
the doors were opened, the audience were assembling; on entering the house, I
found the theatre filled with people and a large body of the police; most of the
police magistrates were there; Judge Edmonds was there also; the understanding
with the magistrates, Judge Edmonds, and the Chief of Police, and
Recorder, was that no arrests should be made in the house, unless some overt
act was committed, tending absolutely to a breach of the peace; the usual indulgence
was to be allowed as to the hissing and applauding; that rule was observed.
In the course of the evening, demonstrations were made by several in the parquette,
by shaking their fists at Macready, threatening him with violence, by
twelve or fifteen persons, certainly not to exceed twenty; an application was
made at this time to the Chief of Police to arrest them, and remove them from
the house; he delayed the order for some time, and finally sent for the Recorder
to consult with him on the propriety of making arrests; after a consultation, it
was concluded to make the arrests, which was done; in less than five minutes
they were taken into custody, and order comparatively restored; about this time
a great deal of hissing was heard in the amphitheatre, and loud applauding; the
play was still going on; several arrests were made in the amphitheatre, by order
of the Chief of Police and Recorder; about this time, the first breach of peace
on the house was a large paving-stone which came through the window into the
house; the house continued to be assailed from those without; an alarm was
given that a fire was below under the dress circle; it was soon extinguished;
large stones were thrown at the doors on Eighth street, smashing in the panels,
and doing other damage; the police were ordered into Eighth street, say fifteen
men; on my going into the street, I saw a large concourse of people, but those
near the door of the theatre were mostly boys, who were apparently throwing
stones; several of them were arrested by the police and brought in; I cannot
say how many were aiding in the disturbance, but certainly a very small proportion
to the crowd collected; the policemen arrested some six or ten of them, and
the attack on the door in Eighth street ceased; the attack then, after these arrests,
was made with more violence on the front of the theatre in Astor-Place; a very
large crowd was collected, yet I could pass in and out with ease, comparatively;
this crowd did not appear to be very turbulent; a very large number appeared
to be citizens looking on, and not aiding in the disturbance; the majority of those
throwing stones were boys from the ages of 12 to 18 years; several of the
policemen at this time complained of being struck with stones and badly hurt;
the policemen kept making arrests, and bringing them in; I cannot say how
many; the crowd appeared to be increasing and more dense; the mob appeared
to be determined to accomplish some particular act; there seemed to be a strong
determination, although they only threw stones; the force of policemen on
Astor-Place amounted to from fifty to seventy-five; the mob then continued to
throw stones; the military then came.”
TESTIMONY OF MAJOR GENERAL SANDFORD.
I am Major General commanding the military forces of this county. On
Thursday last, I received a message from the Mayor, requesting me to come to
his office. I went there, and found the magistrates named by the Mayor assembled.
The Mayor informed me of the object of my being sent for. The Mayor
has stated correctly my reply, when I was asked in relation to the expediency
of issuing an order to call out the Military. After it was decided to issue the
order, it was understood by the Magistrates present, that the effort should be
first made by the civil authority to preserve the peace, and that the Military
should not be called out until that effort failed. I left the Mayor’s office after
this understanding, and then received this order:
Mayor’s Office, City Hall, May 10, 1849.
Having reason to apprehend a serious riot this evening, which will require
more force to preserve the peace than is possessed by the police, Major General
Sandford is requested to hold a sufficient military force in readiness to meet the
apprehended emergency.
C. S. WOODHULL, Mayor.
After receiving this order, I ordered one Regiment—the 7th—of Infantry to
assemble at the Artillery drill rooms, and one troop of Light Artillery with two
6 pound field pieces, to muster at the Arsenal. I directed a small detachment of
Infantry to protect the pieces. The regiment, when assembled, on account of the
shortness of the notice, consisted of but little over two hundred men. The
regiment is known to the citizens by the title of the National Guard. I went
myself, in the evening, to the Artillery drill rooms, and informed the Magistrate
that I would remain there to await orders. I understood there was to be a large
Police force at the Theatre. Many of the Magistrates thought this force would
be sufficient without the military. The regiment was under the command of
Col. Duryea. There are eight Captains in the regiment. I cannot say they
were all present. Capts. Shumway, Underhill, Pond and Price, were present.
We remained there until a verbal message came to me from the sheriff, the purport
of which was, that a mob had attacked the house and driven in the Police force,
and were assailing the building; this was between 8 and 9 o’clock, as well as I
can remember. On receiving this notice, I immediately ordered the Regiment
to get ready for marching, and to distribute their ammunition, which consisted of
one thousand rounds of ball cartridges; I sent at the same time an order to the
Arsenal yard for the horse belonging to the Regiment to come up immediately
to the drill rooms, and march with us to the grounds. The horsemen carried only
their sabres; the troops were put on the march, and moved rapidly up Broadway
to Astor-Place; the field pieces were Left at the Arsenal; no order was given to
the artillery. I was not aware, until I got to the ground, of the extent of the
mob; I thought the force I had with me, in connection with the Police force,
would be sufficient to preserve the peace. Before getting on the ground, I
mounted my horse, and took charge of the cavalry, directing the Infantry to
follow close after us. The horsemen, on entering Astor-Place, were formed ten
ahead, and advanced in that order until we got nearly opposite the corner of the
Opera House; at this place, we were assailed with a shower of stones and brick
bats, by which almost every man was hurt, and the horses rendered almost
unmanageable; the men pushed rapidly through Astor-Place, and through the
whole distance were assailed with a shower of stones; the infantry followed
them. The mob extended from Astor-Place to the Bowery; the mounted men,
being conspicuous marks, received most of the stones, and were driven off the
ground. I dismounted, returned through the mob, and took charge of the
Infantry. They were halted in line across the open space beyond the theatre,
with a dense mob on both sides of them, who were assailing them with all sorts
of opprobrious epithets, and frequent volleys of stones. I ordered Col. Duryea
to form a column of division for the purpose of clearing the ground in the rear
of the theatre, intending afterward to go to the front. The columns were formed
promptly, and moved forward through the mob, until stopped by an excavation
in the ground, which I had not previously seen, on account of the darkness of the
[Pg 23]
night. We filed around this broken ground, and cleared the rear of the theatre,
the mob retreating before us as we advanced. Two bodies of troops were
stationed at each end of the theatre, extending across the street. I then sent in
for the Sheriff and Chief of Police. Mr. Matsell furnished sufficient of the
police to take the place of the two lines of military, and the whole were then
put under march; passed through Eighth-st. to Broadway, and around into Astor-Place,
the Sheriff at my request accompanied us. We moved down Astor-Place
until we got a little past the centre of the theatre. The mob partially retreated
to the middle and opposite side of the street; they commenced an attack on the
military by throwing paving-stones. The paving in this vicinity had been taken
up for the purpose, as I was informed, of laying down water pipes and building
a sewer. I ordered the regiment to be divided and to form in two lines across
the street; the right wing advanced toward the Bowery, and the left toward
Broadway, with the view of driving the mob each way from the front of the
theatre; during this period, the men were constantly assailed with showers of
stones and brickbats, and many were seriously hurt; a number of men near by
and Gen. Hall were struck with stones, and dangerously injured. After giving
this order, I advanced toward the middle of the street to Captain Shumway, who
led the first company, with Col. Duryea by his side, being outside myself next the
mob; the Sheriff was behind me; at this time, we were assailed by a volley of
stones, by which about eight out of eleven of the first platoon were more or less
injured. Myself, Col. Duryea, and Capt. Shumway were injured. At this time,
a pistol was fired by some man in the mob, by which Capt. Shumway was
wounded in the leg, and, as I believe, Gen. Hall in the face. Previous to this, the
crowd had been repeatedly notified by Gen. Hall and myself, and by other persons
whose voices I did not recognise, that they must disperse or they would be fired
upon. I was at this time partly knocked down, and when I arose, I found three
or four of the front rank partly down, and the head of the column forced back
toward the Opera House, the shower of stones at this time being incessant; orders
were then given by myself and repeated by Col. Duryea, to charge bayonet; the
attempt was made, but the crowd was so close upon the troops that there was
no room for the troops to charge, and some of the men had their muskets seized
by the crowd; the troops by this time were forced back to the sidewalk; I stated
to the Sheriff that it was impossible to maintain our position without firing. I
several times called out to the crowd that they must fall back or we would fire;
after this the Sheriff gave the order to fire. Gen. Hall, who was a short distance
from me, made an exclamation to fire over their heads; the order to fire was
repeated by myself and Col. Duryea, and the men fired once over the heads of
the crowd, against Mrs. Langdon’s house. A shout then came from the mob,
“They have only blank cartridges, give it to them again,” and another volley of
stones came instantly; the troops were then ordered to fire again; I think the
order was given by myself and Gen. Hall; Gen. Hall said, “fire low;” then, for
the first time, the mob began to give way; the troops then moved forward, crossing
the street, and driving the crowd before them until the troops got near the corner
of Lafayette-Place. The mob here rallied at the corner of Lafayette-Place, on
one side, and at the corner of the theatre and the broken ground, on the other
side, and advanced, throwing volleys of stones; several of the troops were hurt
severely, and orders were given for the troops to fire—one half obliquely to the
right, the other half to the left upon these two bodies of men; this was done, and
the crowd fell back into Lafayette-Place, and the broken ground behind the
theatre. There was no firing after this; the mob kept a constant attack upon
the troops for some time with stones and brickbats. The whole number of military
engaged in the conflict was 210, one half of the line toward Broadway, and the
other toward Bowery; the mob has been variously estimated from ten to twenty
thousand. Previously to leaving Eighth-st. to go around to the front of the
theatre with the troops, I sent up the Light Artillery and the portions of the
Sixth Regiment that was to support it. They arrived after the firing had ceased.
One gun was placed toward the Bowery, and the other toward Broadway. The
Infantry were stationed, and the mob were again told that unless they left, they
would be fired upon, and the Artillery used, if necessary. The mob dispersed,
and the firing ceased. Upwards of 50 men of this small detachment of 210 men,
[Pg 24]
were injured, chiefly before the firing commenced. I do not believe that the
troops could have withdrawn in safety when the order was given to fire, and that
they could not have maintained their position without firing. During a period of
thirty-five years of military service, I have never seen a mob so violent as the
one on that evening. I never before had occasion to give the order to fire.
TESTIMONY OF STEPHEN W. GAINES.
Stephen W. Gaines, sworn, says:—I am a counsellor at law, residing at No.
180 East Broadway; on Thursday evening last, I was at the corner of Astor-Place
and Lafayette-Place; I stood upon a pile of boards; I stood there from
half-past eight o’clock until after the last discharge of musketry; from the place
where I stood, I had a fair view of the Opera House; when I first got there,
the space between us and the theatre was filled with people, but not densely
crowded at that time; I saw persons throwing stones at the principal entrance,
and at the windows of the Opera House; they were nearly in front of the Opera
House; sometimes a single stone, and at other times a volley; about fifty feet
in front of the house was the principal scene of action; the street toward the
Bowery was filled with people; there were no stones thrown from the quarter
where I stood, and there were so few actually stoning the house, that it was a
surprise to those witnessing it why the police did not stop it; the first I saw of
the military was the horse, and then followed the infantry; they came from
Broadway, passed the Opera House in Astor-Place, and took their stand near the
4th avenue; I saw no opposition; in about half an hour I saw the horse troops
pass up Astor-Place, towards Broadway; I should have left upon the arrival of
the military, but so many coming upon the sidewalk, I could not get out; within
a short time after, the infantry passed up in front of the house; I saw the fire
from the discharge of the muskets as it left the barrels, as the lamps were out;
some of them were fired perpendicular, some on an inclined plane towards the
house of Mrs. Langdon, and others horizontally; this was the first discharge; we
had no intimation of firing where I stood, until I saw the flash; several other
volleys were discharged immediately; previous to firing the last volley, the
street was nearly cleared; most of the people had left the enclosure where I
was; there were, perhaps, half a dozen on the sidewalk in front of where I was;
I was still standing on the board, when the last discharge took place up Astor-Place
towards the Bowery; between me and the soldiers the space was clear;
there was a small number of persons on the corner opposite Mrs. Langdon’s
house; they were out of the range of the fire; this fire was nearly in the range
of where I was standing; I stepped back a pace or two, to bring myself out of
the direct line; immediately another discharge took place, that being part of
the previous discharge; upon the discharge, a man fell upon the sidewalk in
front of us; there were but a few persons near him at the time; after he fell, he
remained on the ground half a minute, some supposed he was shamming being
shot; on picking him up, a wound was discovered in his back, by the blood
running; we took the wounded man down to the drug store corner Fourth and
Wooster street; on examining the body, we found a wound in the lower part of
his stomach; his name was Henry Otten, residing at the corner of Hester and
Orchard streets; he was standing on the sidewalk at the time he was shot, taking
no part in the disturbance; after leaving him, I learned that others had been
shot; I have been informed that he has since died.
TESTIMONY OF THOMAS J. BELVIN.
Thomas J. Belvin, residing at No. 133 King street, boatman:—On Thursday
evening last, I was at the disturbance at the Astor-Place Opera House; I stood
on the corner of Lafayette-Place, by Mrs. Langdon’s house; when I got there,
about half-past-six o’clock, I saw a lot of half-grown boys throwing stones at the
Astor Opera House; I passed on the opposite corner, and was talking to two
Philadelphians; they were saying how trifling this was to some of their riots;
I stayed there until the horse soldiers came, and then the infantry; then there
[Pg 25]
was a rush with the boys, and we started back, and then returned again to see
how the military operated; I was standing on the corner of Mrs. Langdon’s
house when the first firing took place; when the military left, the boys went
back and commenced throwing stones again; I stood there when the first discharge
took place; a man fell; I laughed, and so did others, as we thought that it was
only blank cartridges to scare them; I heard a man say, “my God, look at this;
he’s shot;” this was at the first discharge of musketry; I heard no notice given
to disperse; they might have done so; after this I started and ran down to the
church on the corner of 4th street, and there I stood; I don’t know how long I
stood there, I was so frightened; I stood there until I heard another banging of
muskets, and then I started and ran home as quick as I could; I should not have
gone there, if I had known they were going to use lead; I went to see what
was going on, like many others; I don’t know how long I stood at the church
before I heard the second firing; I was glad to get there; I jumped over several
people in making my way to the church.
It is to be observed that the above accounts vary according to the
position of the witnesses. Mr. Stewart confines his attention chiefly
to the operations of the police; Gen. Sandford to those of the military;
while others may be supposed to represent the views and
feelings of the mere spectators.
On the examination of Mr. Stewart, he was asked, if, in his opinion,
the riot could have been prevented or suppressed by the action of
the police, without calling on the military. Though loth to give an
opinion, which might be construed into a censure of the authorities,
he stated his belief that the whole affair might have been differently
managed.
The scene which followed the firing of the military, beggars all
description. The wounded, the dying, and the dead, were scattered
in every direction. There were groans of agony, cries for help, and
oaths of vengeance. The dead and the wounded were borne to the
drug stores at the corners of Eighth street and Broadway, and Third
Avenue, and others in the vicinity, and surgeons were summoned to
attend them. Some were conveyed by the police to the Fifteenth
Ward Station-House, and a few carried to the City Hospital. Some
of the dead and wounded were laid out upon the billiard tables of
Vauxhall Saloon, a large crowd gathered around, and speeches were
made by excited orators.
Had none but those actively engaged in the riot been shot by the
military, these details would have been sufficiently melancholy. But
even then, we are to consider that the men who composed the mob,
may have acted, under ordinary circumstances, like honest and
respectable citizens. A mob is composed of the same men in a state
of temporary insanity, and they should be treated accordingly. Sober
and quiet citizens, acting under such a temporary excitement, have
committed the greatest outrages. They should be restrained, but
not sacrificed, unless under the most imperative necessity.
But in this case, very few of the active rioters were injured—the
greater part of the killed and wounded being either spectators, or
persons passing by the scene. Thus, Bridget Fagan was walking
with her husband along the Bowery, shot through the leg, and died
at the Hospital. Mr. Stuart, an old retired merchant, was severely
wounded in the neck, while standing in the Bowery; and Mr. Collins
was shot dead while getting out of a car of the Harlem Rail Road.
Wm. C. Russell, a lawyer, had his arm shattered while passing
around the corner of the Bowery. Mr. Livingston, standing in St.
Mark’s place, two blocks off, was severely wounded. There were
many more such cases.
Of those who were shot down in the immediate vicinity of the
Opera House, the greater portion were taking no part in the affair.
Mr. George W. Gedney, a broker in Wall-street, who had a wife, to
whom he had been married but little more than a year, and one child,
was shot instantly dead, as he was standing inside the railing by the
Langdon mansion. At the first volley, a ball pierced his brain. His
wife knew he had gone to see the riot, and she had had a presentiment
of some disaster. She sat watching and waiting for her
husband, for it was the first time he had been out at night, without
her, since their marriage. She waited until four o’clock in the
morning in an agony of terror, when, unable to endure the suspense
any longer, she rushed into the street, went to the house of one of
her husband’s friends, roused him from his slumber, and begged him
to go and seek for her husband. The man went, and found poor
Gedney a cold corpse. Mrs. Gedney was sitting at the window
when he returned, and motioned for him to come to her, but he shook
his head mournfully, and passed by in silence. She knew that her
beloved husband was no more. Her neighbor, who had not the
courage to tell her the awful tidings, sent his wife to comfort her.
This is but one of many such cases of domestic affliction, produced
by the events of that night of terror.
CHAPTER SEVENTH. THE DAY AFTER THE RIOT—POPULAR EXCITEMENT—CORONER’S INQUEST—LIST OF THE KILLED AND WOUNDED. — LIST OF THE KILLED. — LIST OF THE WOUNDED.
The morning of the eleventh of May was one of sad excitement
in the city of New York. The extent of the calamity, the number
of the dead and wounded, made a deep and solemn impression.
Public opinion was very much divided. The more excitable breathed
threats of vengeance, and the military were kept under arms during
that and the succeeding day. A meeting was called in the Park, of
“Citizens opposed to the destruction of Human Life.” Several
thousands assembled, and resolutions were passed, thoroughly condemning
the authorities for not exhausting the civil power before
calling out the military, and characterizing the sacrifice of life as
“the most wanton, unprovoked and murderous outrage ever perpetrated
in the civilized world;” and calling upon the Grand Jury to
indict the Mayor, Recorder and Sheriff, for ordering the military to
fire on the citizens. Exciting and inflammatory speeches were made
by Edward Strahan, Isaiah Rynders, and Mike Walsh, but the meeting
separated without disturbance.
That night, all eyes were turned toward the Opera House, for
though it had been closed by the lessees, and though Macready was
in Boston, it had been given out that it should be destroyed. The
most efficient measures had been taken by the authorities, and a
proclamation issued by the Mayor. Gen. Sandford called out four
troops of horse artillery, one squadron of cavalry, four regiments of
infantry, including the fifth brigade, and a detachment of the veteran
artillery, with a 24 pound howitzer. The artillery was planted so as
to sweep the streets around the building, and the infantry and cavalry
stationed at a convenient distance. The artillery was furnished with
grape, and the infantry with ball cartridge.
At dark, an immense crowd filled the streets around the Opera
House, but the military took possession of the ground, dispersed the
mob, and barricaded the approaches to the scene. The mob, most
violent at first in Broadway, having been driven from that position,
made an attack upon the troops in the Bowery, and severely injured
several of the soldiers; but the police, aided by the military, arrested
or dispersed the offenders. At about 9 o’clock, the mob erected a
barricade across 9th street, near the Bowery, to defend themselves
from the cavalry, but it was stormed by the police. At one time,
the attack upon the City Guard was so severe, that they were ordered
to load, and the Recorder proclaimed that another shower of stones
would bring one of lead in return; but fortunately the volleys ceased.
Bonfires were kindled, but these only made the leaders of the riot
conspicuous, and aided the police to arrest them. About thirty
arrests were made, the mob driven off in all directions, and at midnight
order was restored. Half this efficiency the previous night,
would have saved all bloodshed. Order was restored, and though it
was reported that a large number of persons had come from Philadelphia,
expressly to take part in a riot, the peace of the city was
not again disturbed.
On Saturday morning, the Coroner assembled a jury, who proceeded
in carriages, to view the bodies of those who were killed.
After viewing them, and witnessing a surgical examination of each,
the inquest was continued at the Hall of the Court of Sessions. The
Mayor, Recorder, Sheriff, Chief of Police, and several military officers
and citizens were examined. We have given some of the most
important of the testimony.
The Jury retired at half-past six o’clock, on Sunday evening, and
after being out a short time, returned the following verdict:
We believe that Geo. A. Curtis, John McDonald, Thos. Aylwood, George Lincoln,
Timothy Burns, Henry Otten, George W. Brown, Wm. Butler, George W.
Taylor, Owen Burns, Thos. Belman, Neil Gray Mellis, Asa F. Collins, Wm. Harmer,
Thos. Keirnan, Mathew Cahill, Geo. N. Gedney, came to their deaths by
gun shot wounds, from balls fired by the Military during the riot before the
Opera House, on Thursday evening, 10th May inst., by order of the civil authorities
of the city of New York; and that the circumstances existing at the time
justified the authorities in giving the order to fire upon the mob. We further
[Pg 28]
believe that if a larger number of the Police had been ordered out, the necessity
of a resort to the use of Military might have been avoided.
New York, May 14, 1849.
JAMES H. PERKINS, Foreman.
O. H. WILSON,
LEONARD H. HEGAR,
JAMES CROPSY,
SAMUEL RAYNOR,
JOSEPH B. BREWSTER,
GEO. W. DAWSON,
WILLIAM BALLAGH.
|
WM. BANTA,
J. C. BALDWIN,
LEANDER M. SAMMIS,
EDWARD C. ROBINSON,
WM. S. SMITH,
THOS. S. MILLER,
|
Five other persons, in a few days afterwards, died of their wounds.
The following is believed to be a complete list of all the killed and
wounded:
GEORGE A. CURTIS,
Aged 22 years, born in Chautauque Co., printer; shot through the lungs.
JOHN McDONALD,
Aged fifteen years, born in Ireland, shot through the breast.
GEORGE LINCOLN,
Aged 35 years, appeared to be a sailor; shot in the abdomen.
THOMAS AYLWOOD,
Aged 19, born in Halifax, a clerk; shot in the thigh: died after amputation of
the limb.
TIMOTHY BURNS,
16 years, a printer; shot through the right lung.
HENRY OTTEN,
22 years; grocer; shot through the breast. He died in the 15th Ward Station-House,
in presence of his aged mother.
GEORGE W. BROWN,
From Boston; clerk; ball passed through left lung.
WILLIAM BUTLER,
24 years; ship joiner; shot through the head.
GEORGE W. TAYLOR,
21 years; house carpenter; shot through the head.
OWEN BURNS,
24 years; born in Ireland; a cartman; shot through the head.
THOMAS BELMAN,
17 years; born in Ireland; laborer; shot through the neck.
NEIL GRAY MELLIS,
27 years; the musket-ball passed directly through the heart; left a wife and one
child. The deceased was a nephew to ex-Alderman Neil Gray of the 10th
Ward.
ASA F. COLLINS,
45 years; born in this State; business a house agent. The deceased received a
ball in the neck, as he was descending from the railroad car.
WILLIAM HARMER,
16 years; a butcher; was brought to the Bellevue Hospital early on Friday
morning, having received a ball in the abdomen; he lingered until four
o’clock in the afternoon, when death relieved his earthly suffering. He was
a native of St. John’s, New Brunswick.
THOMAS KEIRNAN,
21 years; born in Ireland; a waiter; shot in the right cheek, the ball passing
into the brain.
MATHEW CAHILL,
26 years; born in Ireland; laborer; widower; shot through the right breast;
one child.
TIMOTHY McGUINN,
19 years; laborer. The deceased was residing with his mother, in the rear of
No. 107 West Thirteenth-street, and died soon after being brought home.
GEORGE W. GEDNEY,
34 years; born in New York; a broker; resided at No. 82 Seventh-street. The
deceased received a musket-ball directly through the brain.
JOHN DALZELL,
Was wounded in the hip, and died after amputation of the hip joint.
ROBERT MACLEURGEON,
Aged 20, a native of New York, received a wound while passing through
Lafayette-Place; and died at his mother’s residence on Monday.
JOHN McKINSLEY,
Shot through the lungs, died on Sunday night.
HENRY BURGUIST,
Known as “Harry Bluff,” lived at 410 Pearl-street. Ball grazed the neck,
went into the right shoulder, coming out behind the right arm. Died of
his wounds at the hospital.
BRIDGET FAGAN,
Irish; 30 years old; shot in the leg, just below the knee. She was two blocks
off, walking with her husband on their way home, and fell into his arms.
Died after amputation.
Thus TWENTY-THREE PERSONS were either killed on the
spot, or died of their wounds shortly after.
The following list is probably incomplete, as many who were not
seriously wounded have not been publicly reported:
Edward McCormick, 135 First Avenue; 19 years old; worked at 200 Mulberry-street.
Shot through the side.
Conrad Becker, 27 Hudson-street; worked for Mahoney and Thompson, Upholsterers,
Chatham-street. Ball went through the right thigh.
George N. Kay, 28 years of age; merchant; boarded at 107 Chambers-street.
Ball in the right breast, going entirely through.
Frederick Gillespie, a boy; shot through the foot.
A Son of J. Irwin, 243 Tenth-street; ball through his leg.
B. M. Seixas, jr.,
Matthew Carhart, residence First Av., corner of Twelfth-st.; shot through the
breast and neck.
Mr. Stewart, of the late firm of Coley, Stewart, and Co., Mobile, retired merchant;
while standing in the Bowery was shot in the neck.
Mr. Phillip Livingston, a young man, who was standing in St. Mark’s Place,
[Pg 30]
was badly wounded, the shot entering the fore arm, and coming out near the
thumb.
Lieut. J. Brown; son of Prof. Brown; residence 42 Crosby-street; was shot as
he came out of the Amphitheatre door.
Deacon A. M. Collins; of the Allen-street Church; was also shot.
William Selleck; 23 years of age; residence 227 Seventh-street; dangerously
wounded by a shot; a spectator.
A young Philadelphian; name not ascertained; badly shot through the thigh.
Mr. Braisted; of the firm of Secor & Co.; spectator; shot through the knees.
Wm. C. Russell, Esq.; a lawyer of Wall-street; left his residence in Fourth-avenue,
about half-past 10, and while passing the corner of Lafayette-Place,
had his left arm shattered by a ball.
Mr. Marshall Lefferts; of the firm of Messrs. Geo. B. Moorewood & Co. 14
and 16 Beaver-street; while on duty as an officer, was knocked from his
horse by a stone, and seriously wounded.
One of the National Guards had his jaw-bone broken by a paving-stone.
Lorenzo D. Snell, of Philadelphia; 49 Bayard-street; was shot through the
thigh.
Mrs. Brennan, house-keeper for Mr. Kernachan, corner of Second-avenue and
Ninth-street; while passing up the Bowery, on her way home, leaning upon
the arm of a man, was struck by a ball in her left thigh, which passed through
the fleshy part of this and the right thigh, without injuring the large vessels
or the bones.
Stephen Kehoe.
Mr. Vanderpool; was wounded with a ball at the corner of the eye.
A boy, by the name of Stone.
An instance of heroism is related of one of the wounded, who,
when the surgeon was about to examine his case, said, “Never mind
me now, but look round and see if there is not some one who needs
you more than I do!” The speech was worthy of Sir Philip Sidney.
The lives of such men ought not to be lightly sacrificed.
Of the military and police, a large number were wounded, some
of them severely, by paving-stones. Capt. Shumway received a
flesh wound with a pistol shot.
The military performed their duty, generally, with commendable
coolness. Some, it is said, laid down their arms, rather than fire,
and others fired into the air; but on the whole, they did quite sufficient
execution, especially on those who were not actively engaged
in the riot.
CHAPTER NINTH. WHERE LIES THE BLAME?
The dead are sleeping in their quiet graves. Day by day, time
brings its consolations to the afflicted; but has society no lesson to
learn from the horrors of which we have given as full a description
as could be given, by looking at the mere surface of things? We
have shown the causes which produced this dreadful sacrifice of
human life—this massacre of innocent and unoffending citizens, for
many of the killed were truly such. Let us endeavor to turn the
terrible lesson to some useful account.
Those who were actively engaged in the scenes we have described,
experience different feelings in regard to it. The mob was made up
mainly of well-meaning, but ignorant, rash, and misguided men.
The best feelings of our nature, when they are perverted, may produce
the worst consequences. In this case, a feeling of patriotism,
and a sense of justice, were the ruling motives of those who violated
the laws, broke the peace of the community, defied the constituted
authorities, and caused the death of twenty-three human beings.
They acted in all good conscience, but an unenlightened or misguided
conscience is no security against wrong. Some of the worst deeds
that were ever committed, were done “in all good conscience.” Thus
Christ was crucified by a Jewish mob, and said, “Father, forgive
them, they know not what they do.” Thus, in all ages, the worst
acts have been committed from the best of motives.
The authorities are probably satisfied with having maintained law
and order, though at a terrible sacrifice, and the press has almost
unanimously sustained them. But it should be remembered that
almost all men are liable to temporary excitements. Mobs are affected
with a kind of insanity. The madness of a crowd seems to be infectious.
These rioters may, in their calm moments, be good and quiet
citizens. We have seen some of the most sober and moral communities
excited into a fury of passion. At any rate, they are brethren,
and should be dealt with in love and kindness.
But law and order must be maintained; very true—it must be
done at all hazards, but it should be done prudently, and with the
least possible sacrifice. Humanity has its claims as well as law; and
it may not be necessary to the maintenance of public order, that
ignorant and misguided men, laboring under a temporary madness
should be shot down like dogs, if they can be controlled by means
more gentle.
The military acted naturally, under the circumstances. They
were placed in an ugly position by the authorities, suffered severely
for it, and obeyed their orders. No doubt, they regretted the fatal
necessity. Some idea of the probable feelings of those who fired
the fatal volleys, may be judged of from the fact that a brother of
Mr. Gedney, who was shot dead at the first fire, was a member of
one of the companies that fired the volleys. All men are brethren—but
here was brother against brother, in a sense that the most unfeeling
can appreciate.
A distinguished clergyman of this city, preaching on the subject
of the riot, says of Macready and his right to act—“Though he had
been the meanest of his kind, he should have been protected here to
the conclusion of his announced engagement, if an army of ten thousand
men had been required to wait upon his movements, and a ship
of war chartered to convey him to his native land. We have done
something to vindicate order and law, and we ought to have done
more.”
A zeal for the rights of Mr. Macready and his friends, and for
the cause of law and order is commendable—but it must not be
forgotten that other rights must have been violated, or this riot could
never have taken place. Those ignorant men had a right to education,
and to such conditions of cultivation, as would have made them
intelligent men and good citizens. They would never have raised their
hands against society, had society done its duty to them. Before they
committed this wrong, they had been most deeply wronged themselves; and
it would be better to provide ten thousand schoolmasters to instruct
people, than ten thousand soldiers to prevent the result of their
ignorance.
Men can be zealous and indignant about the rights of play actors, or
their patrons—and we have no disposition to deny their rights,
or to interfere with the lawful exercise of them—but they forget
in how many ways the rights of our brethren are violated, and not a
word is said in their behalf. Give every man the natural and social
rights that belong to him and we should have few crimes and outrages
to complain of, and law and order could be maintained without standing
armies or ships of war.
When we go deep into the investigation of social wrongs, we shall
find that society brings upon itself the very evils it attempts to
subdue. Society, by an unjust distribution of the avails of industry,
enables a few men to become rich, and consigns a great mass to
hopeless poverty, with all its deprivations and degradations. This
poverty produces ignorance, the sense of injustice, grovelling tastes,
and a loss of all high ambition. The only wonder is that under such
circumstances of wrong and outrage, men are so forbearing, so honest,
and so orderly. The only wonder is that more crimes are not committed
against both property and life. Thousands of poor people know that
they are robbed and plundered every day of their lives—they
feel bitterly the hardships and injustice of their lot; but how
calmly do they wait God’s justice to set them right! How few of them
comparatively attempt to right their own wrongs, and to seize upon a
portion of what society withholds from them!
This terrible tragedy is a lesson to us all. None can escape its
warning. We are all responsible, all guilty; for we make a part of
a society that has permitted thousands of its members to grow up in
poverty and ignorance, and exposed to the temptations of vice and
crime. This mob is but a symptom of our social condition, and it points
out a disease to which we should lose no time in applying a proper
remedy.
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes.
1. Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical
errors.
2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.
3. There is no “CHAPTER EIGHTH” in the original book.
