There was a memorable meeting held at the City Hotel in the fall of 1815. Its purpose was to advance the project for building a canal to connect Lake Erie and the Hudson River, which had been before the public for some years and which was considered by some as abandoned. Judge Jonas Platt, Thomas Eddy and DeWitt Clinton, all earnestly interested in the enterprise, discussed the matter and agreed to make an effort to revive interest in it. It was proposed to send out invitations to the most prominent and influential citizens of New York to meet at the City Hotel. This was done. William Bayard was made chairman of the meeting and John Pintard secretary. Jonas Platt and DeWitt Clinton delivered addresses, and although there was some opposition, a resolution was nevertheless passed by a large majority in favor of the object, and a committee consisting of DeWitt Clinton, Thomas Eddy, Cadwallader D. Colden and John Swartwout was chosen to prepare and circulate a memorial to the legislature. This celebrated paper was written by DeWitt Clinton and attracted great attention. It gave new life to the enterprise, which was ultimately successful.
The First Savings Bank
What Englishmen Said About the City Hotel
In the autumn of 1816, at a meeting in the City Hotel, the first savings bank in New York was organized. The necessary capital was not raised until 1819, when it went into operation with William Bayard as its first president.
H. B. Fearon, an English traveller, writes in 1817: “There are in New York many hotels, some of which are on an extensive scale. The City Hotel is as large as the London Tavern. The dining room and some of the apartments seem to have been fitted up regardless of expense.” Quite different is the description given by Lieutenant Fred. Fitzgerald De Roos of the Royal Navy, who visited New York in May, 1826. He says: “We lodged at the City Hotel, which is the principal inn at New York. The house is immense and was full of company; but what a wretched place! The floors were without carpets, the beds without curtains; there was neither glass, mug nor cup, and a miserable little rag was dignified with the name of towel. The entrance to the house is constantly obstructed by crowds of people passing to and from the bar-room, where a person presides at a buffet formed upon the plan of a cage. This individual is engaged, ‘from morn to dewy eve,’ in preparing and issuing forth punch and spirits to strange-looking men, who come to the house to read the newspapers and talk politics. In this place may be seen in turn most of the respectable inhabitants of the town. There is a public breakfast at half-past seven o’clock, and a dinner at two o’clock, but to get anything in one’s own room is impossible.” Let us digress and note the happy return of this man to English soil. On his way back to Halifax to join his command, he crossed from Maine to Nova Scotia, stopping in the little town of Windsor. He writes: “Never in my whole life did I more fully appreciate the benefits of our good English customs, or feel in better humor with my country in general, than when I sat down in a clean parlor by myself, to the snug dinner prepared for me by the widow Wilcocks, landlady of a comfortable inn in the good town of Windsor. How different from an American table d’hote! where you are deafened by the clamor, and disgusted by the selfish gluttony of your companions; where you must either bolt your victuals, or starve, from the ravenous rapidity with which everything is dispatched; and where the inattention of the servants is only equalled by their insolence and familiarity.”
Englishmen never forgot that the United States was a brilliant gem plucked from the British crown, and the vein of sarcasm and resentment running through books of travel written by them about this time is apparent; so that their descriptions and opinions should be taken with some allowance for this feeling. Nevertheless, there was a foundation of truth in many of the disagreeable things they said, which made them, on that account, the more irritating to the people of the United States.
The Price-Wilson Duel
About the year 1818 or 1820, there was living for a time at the Washington Hotel, or as it was more generally called Washington Hall, Captain Wilson, of the British army, who, in conversation one day at dinner, remarked that he had been mainly instrumental in bringing about the duel between Major Green and Benjamin Price, and detailed the circumstances leading to it. A few years before this, Benjamin Price, a brother of Stephen Price, lessee and manager of the Park Theater, was at the theatre one evening in the company of a very handsome woman. In the adjoining box was Major Green, a British officer, who took the liberty of turning and staring the lady full in the face, which annoyed her and of which she complained to Price, who, on a repetition of the offense, reached over, caught the officer by the nose and gave it a vigorous twist. The officer soon after knocked at the door of Price’s box, and when he opened it asked him with charming simplicity what he meant by such behavior, at the same time declaring that he had intended no offense, that he had not meant to insult the lady by what he had done. “Oh, very well,” replied Price, “neither did I mean to insult you by what I did.” Upon this they shook hands and it was supposed that the matter was settled and ended. When Major Green returned to his command in Canada the story of this affair followed him or had preceded him and was soon the subject of discussion among his comrades. It was brought to the attention of his brother officers, one of whom, Captain Wilson, insisted that Green should be sent to Coventry unless he returned to New York and challenged Price. This he did after practising with a pistol for five hours a day until he considered himself sufficiently expert. They fought at Weehawken on Sunday, May 12, 1816. Price was killed at the first fire. Spectators viewed the transaction from the neighboring rocks, and a more horrible sight could not have been imagined. The seconds ran off, and Green look a small boat, crossed the river and boarded a vessel about to sail for England.
When the news that Captain Wilson was at the Washington Hotel and a statement of what he had said were carried to Stephen Price, who was lying ill of the gout at his home, his friends say that he obeyed implicitly the instructions of his physician and thereby obtained a short cessation of the gout so that he was able to hobble out of doors, his lower extremities swaddled in flannel. As soon as possible he made his way to the Washington Hotel, where he inquired for Captain Wilson. Ascertaining that he was in, he requested to be shown to his room. With a stout hickory cane in his hand he hobbled upstairs, cursing with equal vehemence the captain and the gout. Arriving at the room, as the captain rose to receive him he said: “Are you Captain Wilson?” “That is my name,” replied the captain. “Sir,” said he, “my name is Stephen Price. You see, sir, that I can scarcely put one foot before the other. I am afflicted with the gout, but sir, I have come here with the deliberate intention of insulting you. Shall I have to knock you down or will you consider what I have said a sufficient insult for the purpose?” “Sir,” replied the captain, smiling, “I shall consider what you have said quite sufficient and shall act accordingly. You shall hear from me.” In due time there came a message from Captain Wilson to Stephen Price; time, place and weapons were appointed. Early one morning, a few days later, a barge left the city in which were seated Stephen Price, Captain Wilson and two friends. They all landed on Bedlow’s Island. Captain Wilson never returned. He fell dead at the first fire. His body was buried on the island and many of his friends thought that he had been lost or died suddenly at sea.