In the early 19th century, tales of buried treasure and supernatural intrigue captivated the American imagination, blending folklore with the gritty realities of urban life. The following article, originally published in the Commercial Advertiser and reprinted in the Winchester Gazette on May 11, 1822, recounts a peculiar incident in New York City’s Gold Street neighborhood. It describes a police investigation sparked by mysterious lights and eerie sounds emanating from an uninhabited cellar, leading to the discovery of a terrified man digging for rumored treasure under the influence of superstition and greed. This transcript preserves the original text, including its misspellings and grammatical quirks, offering a vivid glimpse into the era’s fascination with the occult and the elusive promise of hidden riches. The story not only entertains but also reflects the social and cultural currents of a time when tales of pirates like Captain Kidd fueled dreams of sudden wealth, often at the cost of reason.
“Ye black and midnight hags, What is it ye do.”
The Police were called upon on Saturday afternoon, by a gentleman from Gold near Beekman street, to investigate a mysterious affair which had been the source of many “dark surmisings” in the neighborhood, through a good part of the winter. A light had been frequently seen at all hours of the night, in an uninhabited cellar thereabouts, and hearing sepulchral sounds proceeding from within last Saturday evening, a magistrate of the police, and two trusty officers, went down to explore the source of suspicion. The first objects that seized their expecting gaze, when they had gut down the stairs, was a monstrous heap of fresh earth, thrown up so as to half fill the cellar; a bible lying open, with something like a sword across it and some long bright iron rods with other apparatus of wizzards and money diggers, lying here and there around. Advancing, they next discovered deep down in the pit from which the earth had been thrown, a huge black being, whom men less resolute, might perhaps, in such circumstances, have concluded at once to be Old Nick himself. It was a stout, strapping negro, half frightened out of his wits, and with every feature distorted with terror, at the imposing array of his unexpected visitors.—His fright and curious tout ensemble, not a little heightened the scene.
The magistrate soon ordered him up and examined him. He said that a white man had put him there to dig for buried money; and that all the apparatus they saw was employed on the object. The long iron rods, with bamboo case, were intended to explore ahead, as he dug; the bible, with the sword across it, pointing towards the hole, was to keep the debble off; but as to the singular figure of the hole, or any other mysteries about the matter, he could say nothing—his business was to dig—to dig, “and beware of the foul fiend;”—that he had already got down twelve or fifteen feet, and hope spoke “goldenly.” There being now no object with the magistrate but to prevent the future annoyance of the neighborhood, the poor negro was ordered, with a threat of Bridewell, if he disobeyed, to have the whole pit filled up again in twenty-four hours; and if he struck another stroke with his shovel to go deeper, he was assured that the devil himself would come in good earnest, and carry him through an underground passage! The latter branch of the threat was most effectual, and the poor fellow distilled to a jelly with fear, protested solemnly that he had once already since he had been digging there, seen the devil or some other dreadful black creature, as big as a large cat, dart up by him out of the hole, and vanish in the air above.—The white fellow who started and carried on the operation, was not present, and is not known. What numbers have had their brains turned, and wasted some little estates, through the infatuation of digging for Kid’s money!
Commercial Advertiser.
Winchester gazette (Winchester, Va.), 11 May 1822. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers, Lib. of Congress, https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84025997/1822-05-11/ed-1/seq-4/.