man was seen hurrying along, crying out at the top of his voice, 'Is there a surgeon among you, gentlemen? for God's sake, is there a surgeon?' The report soon spread that hundreds were in the Exchange at the moment its cupola fell, and those dragged out of the ruins needed a surgeon's care. Providentially, this was not the case, and that which was still more wonderful and striking, no fatal or serious accident occurred during the whole of this awful December calamity. "During the conflagration, then under full head way toward Broad Street, the presence of mind of one man saved much property. This was Downing, the oyster king, of Broad-street fame. Water was out of the question, and at this emergency he thought of his supplies of vinegar, which were large, and with careful application by pailful after pailful, a large amount of property was saved in that direction from the general destruction. To his good sense, and credit, and worthy memory, we record this generous act. "I forgot to mention one circumstance connected with the destruction of the Garden-street Church, and have been reminded of it by a friend who was among the very last persons to leave the sacred edifice. Many, many a solemn dirge had been played upon that fine organ at the burial of the dead, and now, the holy temple on fire, some one commenced performing upon it its own funeral dirge, and continued it until the lofty ceiling was in a blaze. The music ceased, and in a short time the beautiful edifice, with its noble instrument and immense quantities of goods stored inside and out, were all irrecoverably gone, nothing escaping save the long-sleeping dust and bones of the buried dead. I forgot also to mention in their proper place some items about the old 'Tontine Coffee house.' This was the 'Exchange' of the city. The old folks may remember its rough but pleasant keeper, old Buyden. We only have heard of his fame, and it is related of him that, when the first anthracite coal was offered for sale in New York, he tried it in the hall of the Tontine; but he pronounced the new article worse than nothing, for he had put one scuttle into the grate, and then another, and after they were consumed he took up two scuttlefuls of stones. "In the great fire of 1835, this well-known public edifice came very near sharing the common destruction. The engines had almost entirely ceased working, and the Tontine was discovered to be on fire in its broad cornices, at the corner of Wall and Water Streets. This created still greater alarm, for the burning of this large building would destroy the hopes of saving the eastern section of the city, if not more. Two solitary engines, with what little water they managed to obtain, were throwing their feeble and useless streams upon the flaming stores opposite, when Mr. Oliver Hull, of our city, calling their attention to the burning cornice, generously promised to donate one hundred dollars to the Firemen's Fund if they would extinguish that blaze.' Seeing the threatening danger, they immediately made a pile of boxes which had been removed from the adjacent stores, from the top of which, by great efforts, a stream reached the spot and quickly put out the alarming flame. Mr. Hull is still living, and, thanks to him for his wise counsel and generosity at that trying moment, and gratitude to the noble firemen who so successfully averted the awful progress of the destroying element from crossing Wall Street and ending, who can tell where? They were frequently told of the vital importance of preventing the conflagration extending beyond this limit, and labored accordingly, and with the happiest results. "As already stated, no lives were lost during the conflagration; still, we remember that, shortly afterward, one of our most widely-known and respected fellow-citizens passed away in death. This was John Laing, often called 'Honest John Laing,' the senior partner of Laing, Turner & Co., of the old New York Gazette and General Advertiser; and his last illness-of paralysis or apoplexy-was hastened by the excitement and devastation of this great public calamity. He was a gentleman of the old-school queue-hair style. "In the estimated thirteen acres of the burnt district, only one store escaped entire. This was occupied by the well-known John A. Moore of this day, in the iron trade on Water Street, near old Slip. Watched inside, and fire-proof, in their wildest career, the rapid flames seemed, as it were, to overleap the building, destroying all others. There it stood, solitary and alone, amidst surrounding entire destruction, as a sad monument stands alone amid the general ruin. As many as three or four buildings were blown up to stop the progress of the fire, all other efforts having failed; and if such a measure had been resorted to earlier, great destruction of property might possibly have been prevented. There was also a want of powder, although, unknown to the citizens, a vessel loaded with the article lay anchored in the stream. At last, Mr. Charles King generously volunteered to visit the Navy Yard for a supply, and returned with a band of marines and sailors. The explosions went on fearfully and successfully. Up and down went the mined structures, two barrels of powder under each, until no flames were left, no means of spreading the fiery element to the next houses. “The extent of the fire in December, 1835, may be imagined from its several limits. These, commencing at Coffee-house Slip, extended along South Street to Coenties Slip, thence to near Broad, along William to Wall, and down that street to the East River on the south side, with the exception of Nos. 51, 53, 55, 57, 59, and 61, along where the new splendid banking-house of Brown Brothers & Company now stands. This burnt district embraced some thirteen acres, in which nearly seven hundred houses were leveled to the ground in a single winter's night, with a loss of seventeen million dollars; four millions, it was calculated, was the value of the buildings, and thirteen, of the goods. During a few hours this vast amount disappeared, either in the flaming atmosphere or in ashes upon the earth-the most costly goods and products from every portion of our globe. Some merchants, retiring to bed wealthy in the evening, and perhaps so dreaming, found themselves the next morning either ruined or their estates seriously injured. In the impressive language of Scripture, their riches had taken wings and flown away in a single night-warehouse, stock, notes, and books, all gone beyond recovery. "After the general consternation had somewhat subsided, a public meeting assembled in Mr. Lawrence's office (the Mayor's), City Hall, to consider what should be done under the circumstances. At this meeting, committees were appointed to provide means for the relief of the most necessitous cases, and to ascertain the condition of the insurance companies, and the amount of the losses as far as practicable. The writer acted as secretary of this last committee, and the losses absolutely stated from various firms and parties amounted to seven teen millions of dollars. In many cases they were total. Some would not name their damages, and among them very large houses; and, although the seventeen millions were reported by the losers, still, the committee estimated the real loss at twenty millions of dollars. To increase the difficulties, all the insurance companies, except the two mentioned in a former article, failed to meet the demands against them, but paid as much as they were able, and this consumed all their assets, leaving them bankrupt. This result caused great distress among a class who had been otherwise unharmed-old people, widows, orphans, and others, whose income came from fire-insurance dividends; these were now at an end, and many suffered severely in consequence. Among the first acts of the public committee was to relieve this class. "In respect to the entire loss, some accounts place the number of buildings at five hundred and twenty-eight; others, higher. Let us visit the 'burnt district,' as it was then named, commencing at the eastern limits. Coffee-house Slip, and South, Front, and Water Streets, were burned down from Wall Street to Coenties Slip, Pearl consumed from the same point to Coenties Alley, and there, as we have seen, stopped by the blowing-up of a building. This was the well-known crowded region of the dry-goods importers and jobbers, mer chant princes in the granite palaces, filled with the richest merchandise, domestic and imported. The destruction on Stone Street extended down from William to then No. 32, one side, and to No. 39 on the other. Beaver was destroyed half-way to Broad. Exchange Place was burned from Hanover Street to within three doors of Broad, and here, also, the flames were arrested by blowing up a house. The loss on William Street was complete, commencing at Wall and ending in South, and on both sides, including the market in Old Slip. Wall Street was devastated on the south side, from William to South, excepting, as we have noticed, Nos. 51, 53, 55, 57, 59, and 61. The greatest efforts were made along here to prevent the flames reaching the banks and offices on the opposite side. Here was located the Courier and Enquirer office; and we well remember the noble person of its editor, Colonel Webb, as he stood on a prominent, elevated place, exhorting the people to renewed diligence and efforts to save the city. All the intermediate streets, lanes, and alleys within these limits were also swept away by the destroying element. The following statement will be found, we imagine, nearly accurate, of the houses and stores leveled to the earth: "Six hundred and seventy-four tenements were thus consumed in a few short hours, and the far greater part were occupied by New York's largest shipping and wholesale dry-goods merchants, besides many grocers. This was a terrible day for the commercial emporium of our land. The destruction had been fearful, and so were the consequences. In a few months the United States banks suspended payment; then followed the commercial dis tress of 1837, and for a time business seemed paralyzed. Next came bankruptcy after bankruptcy in quick succession, and soon the banks of our State stopped payment for one year. The Legislature legalized this necessary public act. What a disastrous moment! what terrible reverses! what gloomy forebodings and prospects! But the most wonderful fact of all these fearful times was the energy and elasticity of the New-Yorkers. Not long depressed by their misfor tunes, a reaction took place, and before many months the city literally arose from her ashes, and acres of splendid granite, marble, brown-stone, and brick stores filled the entire burnt district.' Business, trade, and commerce revived more briskly than ever before. How truly astonishing, and how noble and praiseworthy! What shall we call our native city—the Giant of the Western World, the Queen of America, the Commercial Emporium, or by what other name? Her wharves and streets are now visited by men from every region of the world, and her white canvas gladdens every ocean. In vain do we search for a chapter in ancient or modern history of such a conflagration and its losses, and of rapid recovery from all its evils, with increasing prosperity, as we find in the great fire of New York in December, 1835. Well may New-Yorkers be proud of their noble city, her enterprise, her trade, and her merchant princes.'" The great extent of the "burnt district," and the immense amount of valuable goods and property of various kinds which remained among the ruins, exposed to depredations, required the exercise of energies beyond the ordinary civil powers; and, such an organization as the present "Insurance Patrol" being at that time unknown, the Mayor accepted the services of the "National Guard "* for guard duty in the emergency. "A line of sentinels was accordingly formed from the foot of Wall Street, up Wall, and to the foot of Broad Street, outside of the limits of the devastated district, rendering entire protection to the exposed property during the night of their service. The narrator recollects well his two 'turns' on post during the night, at the corner of the ruins of the old Merchants' Exchange, at Hanover Street, in an exceedingly cold and driving storm of sleet and rain, and the gloomy and dreadful appearance of the smoldering ruins extended over a space of upward of fifty acres, broken here and there by a fitful flame from a half-smothered fire. He recollects as well, too, the relief of toasting his toes, in *This name was, in 1847, changed into the "Seventh Regiment." |