"I then but dream'd: thou art before me now
In life, a vision of the brain no more.
I've stood upon the wooded mountain's brow,
That beetles high fly lovely valley o'er.
Nature hath made thee lovelier than the power
Even of Campbell's pen hath pictured; he
Had woven, had ne gazed one sunny hour
Upon thy smiling vale, its scenery
With more of truth, and made each rock and tree
Known like old friends, and greeted from afar;
And there are tales of sad reality
In the dark legends of thy border war,
With woes of deeper tint than his own Gertrude's are."
Halleck.
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MIST still reposed upon the waters, and veiled the fringe of trees along the Susquehanna, when, late in the morning, I left Wilkesbarre, in company with Mr. Lord Butler, to visit the celebrities of the valley. The poetry of the bard and the solemn prose of the historian awakened thoughts and associations which invested every venerable tree and antiquated dwelling, the plains, the river, and the mountains, with all the glowing characteristics of romance. The simple beauty of nature, though changed in feature, is as attractive as of old.
"But where are they, the beings of the mind,
The bard's creations, molded not of clay,
Hearts to strange bliss and sufferings assign'd—
Young Gertrude, Albert, Waldegrave—where are they?
Waldegrave 'twere in vain
To point out here, unless in yon scarecrow
That stands full uniform'd upon the plain
To frighten flocks of crows and blackbirds from the grain.
"For he would look particularly droll
In his 1 Iberian boot' and ' Spanish plume,'
And be the wonder of each Christian soul,
As of the birds that scarecrow and his broom.
But Gertrude, in her loveliness and bloom,
Hath many a model here; for woman's eye,
In court or cottage, wheresoe'er her home,
Hath a heart-spell too holy and too high
To be o'er-praised, even by her worshiper—Poesy."
Halleck.
We crossed the plain to Kingston, a pretty village about half a mile westward of Wilkesbarre, and then proceeded to the site of Forty Fort, three and a half miles above, which is reached by a road diverging toward the river from the main road to the head of the valley. It stood near the river bank, at a curve in the stream. Not a single trace of it is left, the spot having been long a common, perfectly smooth, and covered with a green sward. Near the site of the fort is a venerable house, one of the few that escaped the general conflagra-
The "Treaty Table" at Forty Fort.—Site of the Fort.—Visit to the Monument.—Inscription upon it.
tion, and close by is the residence of one of Mrs. Myers's family, in whoso possession I found thetreaty table, pictured in the last chapter. The venerable owner was not there, but I afterward saw her at the house of her son, near Kingston. A cottage and its garden occupy the bank of the river where the trembling families at Forty Fort stood and listened to the noise of the battle; and from that point is a charming river view, bounded on the northwest by the lofty range of the Shawnee Mountains, through which the Susquehanna makes its way into the valley.
8369
From Forty Fort we rode up to the monument, which is situated in a field a few rods east of the main road, near the pleasant little village of Troy, five and a half miles from Wilkesbarre. It is constructed of hewn blocks of granite, quarried in the neighborhood, is sixty two and a half feet in height, and stands upon the spot where the dead were buried in the autumn succeeding the battle. * On two marble tablets are engraved the names of those who fell, so far as could be ascertained, and also of those who were in the battle and survived. Another marble tablet contains an inscription, written by Edward Mallory, Esq. ** This monument, like many others proposed to be erected to the memory of Evolutionary men or events, was tardily conceived and more tardily executed. It remained unfinished nearly forty years after the first movements were made toward raising money for the purpose. As early as 1809,
Mr. Minor, the historian of the valley, wrote several essays intended to awaken public attention to the duty of erecting a monument, and in 1810 Charles F. Wells, Esq., wrote a stirring ode, concluding with the patriotic interrogation,
"O, when shall rise, with chisel'd head,
The tall stone o'er their burial-place,
Where the winds may sigh for the gallant dead,
And the dry grass rustle around its base?"
* Professor Silliman visited many of the Revolutionary grounds about twenty years ago. In his Journal, vol. xviii., p. 310, in describing his visit to Wyoming, he says that a Mr. Perrin, one of those who assisted in the burial of the dead, went over the ground with him, and assured him that, owing to the intense heat and dryness of the air, the bodies were shriveled, dry, and quite inoffensive. ** The following is the inscription upon the monument:
Near this spot was fought,On the afternoon of Friday, the third day of July, 1778,THE BATTLE OF WYOMING,In which a small band of patriot Americans,Chiefly the undisciplined, the youthful, and the aged,Spared, by inefficiency, from the distant ranks of therepublic,Led by Colonel Zebulon Butler and Colonel Nathan DenisonWith a courage that deserved success,Boldly met and bravely fought A combined British, Tory, andIndian force Of thrice their number.Numerical superiority alone gave success to the invader,And wide-spread havoc, desolation, and ruin Marked hissavage and bloody footsteps through the valley.THIS MONUMENT,Commemorative of these events,And of the actors in them,Has been erected Over the bones of the slain,By their descendants and others, who gratefully appreciateThe services and sacrifices of their patriot ancestors.
Efforts to erect the Wyoming Monument.—Success of the Ladies.—Incidents of the Battle.—The Inman Family.
These appeals caused meetings to be held and resolutions to be adopted, but little more substantial was done until 1839, when a committee from Wyoming repaired to Hartford, to solicit pecuniary aid from the Legislature of Connecticut. The committee set forth the claims of the Wyoming people upon Connecticut, in consideration of past allegiance and services. A report was made, proposing a grant of three thousand dollars, but no further action was taken during that session. In 1841 another petition was presented, and so ably was the matter conducted that the lower branch of the Legislature voted the appropriation asked for, by a large majority. The Senate did not concur, and another failure was the consequence. The ladies of Wyoming, doubtless feeling the truth of Dr. Clarke's assertion, that "in all benevolent or patriotic enterprises the services of one woman are equal to those of seven men and a half," resolved that the monument should be erected. They formed a "Luzerne Monumental Association," * solicited donations, held fairs, and by their energy obtained the necessary funds and erected a monument, commemorative alike of patriotic deeds and of female influence. There is a world of philosophy (which solicitors of subscriptions would do well to observe) in the saying of Judge Halliburton's clock peddler, "The straight road to thepocketsof the men is through theheartsof the women."
From the monument northward to the site of Wintermoot's Fort, a mile and a half, the road passes over the battle-ground; but tillage has so changed the whole scene, that nothing remains as token or landmark of the fight, except the ancient river bank, and the tangled morass toward the mountains, through' which the Indians made their way and fell upon Colonel Denison's rear. The place was pointed out to me, upon the road side, where, tradition says, one of the Wyoming men, somewhat intoxicated, lagged behind and fell asleep, when the little band marched to the attack of the invaders. When the retreat became general, and Colonel Zebulon Butler saw no other means of safety but flight, he put spurs to his horse. A swift-footed settler, hotly pursued by savages, caught the tail of Colonel Butler's horse as he passed by, and, with the tenacity of the witch that fastened upon the tail of Tam O'Shanter's mare, held on until he was far beyond danger. As they passed the spot where the inebriate had just awaked, perfectly sober, the man at the tail shouted to him to shoot the pursuing savage. He did so, and the Indian fell dead in the road. Near the same spot Rufus Bennet was pursued by an Indian. Both had discharged their pieces, and the savage was chasing with tomahawk and spear. Richard Inman, one of five brothers who were in the battle, shot the Indian with his rifle, who fell dead within a few feet of his intended victim.' Passing over the battle-ground, we visited the site of Wintermoot's Fort, a view of which is given on page 351, and, going down on the ancient bank of the Susquehanna, we came to Queen Esther's Rock, noticed and described on page 357. There is a scow ferry near, by which we crossed to the eastern side of the river, along whose margin, skirted with lofty-trees, we had a delightful ride to the ravine opposite Monocasy Island. Here the road departs from the river bank, and passes among fertile intervales between that point and Wilkesbarre. The wheat harvests were garnered, but the corn-fields and orchards were laden with the treas-
* The most active ladies in the association were descendants of those who suffered at the time of the invasion. The names of the officers of the society are as follows: Mrs. Chester Butler, President; Mrs. G M. Hollenback and Mrs. E. Carey, Vice-presidents; Mrs. J. Butler, Mrs. Nicholson, Mrs. Hollenback, Mrs Lewis, Mrs. Ross, Mrs. Conyngham, Sirs. Beaumont, Mrs. Drake, Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Carey, Executive Committee; Miss Emily Cist, Treasurer; Miss Gertrude Butler, Secretary; Mrs. Donley, Mrs. L. Butler, Corresponding Committee.
** The Inman family were terrible sufferers. Five brothers went to the field of battle. Two others (for the father had seven sons) would have gone forth, but they had no arms. Two were killed on the field, two escaped without injury, and the fifth, plunging into the waters under some willows on the river shore while heated by the exertions of the battle and the flight, took such a cold that in a few weeks he was in his grave. The remainder of the family fled with the rest of the settlement. In the fall they ventured to return, and put in some winter grain. A surviving son, a lad of nineteen years, while in the field, heard, as he supposed, some wild turkeys in the woods. He went after them, shots were heard, but the boy never came back. In the spring his body was found. He had been murdered and scalped by the Indians. Thus four sons of Elijah Inman perished within a few months. One of the sons, Colonel Edward Inman, is still living, I believe, upon a fine farm a few miles below Wilkesbarre.
Residence and Grave of Colonel Zebulon Butler.—Mr. Slocum and his Family History.—Abduction of his Sister.
ures of the season, their abundance betokening the extreme fertility of the soil. We passed the homestead of Colonel Butler, near which,
"On the margin of yon orchard hill,
Are marks where time-worn battlements have been,
And in the tall grass traces linger still.
Of arrowy frieze and wedged ravelin."
Near the entrance to the village we came to the cemetery where repose many of the patriot dead of Wyoming. There rest the remains of Colonel Butler and his wife. The rude slab that first marked the bed of the hero had been removed, and in its place a neat white marble stone is laid, bearing the following inscription: "In memory of Colonel Zebulon Butler, of the Revolutionary army, who died July 28th, 1795, in the 64th year of his age; and also in memory of Mrs. Phoebe H. Butler, his wife, who died January 19th, 1837, in the 82d year of her age."
It was late in the day when I reached my lodgings, and, wearied by the rambles of the morning, resolved to pass the remainder of the afternoon with theHazleton Travelers. Their conversation was exclusively of those who acted and suffered at the time of themassacre, and I listened with intense interest to the recitals of the "knowing one." I would gladly give the details here, if my space would allow, for they furnish one of the most interesting of those chapters in our Revolutionary history, showing the terrible cost at which our liberties were purchased. Mr. Minor has made the record, and to it the reader is referred.
I passed the evening with the venerable Joseph Slocum, whose family was among the sufferers in the Wyoming Valley. He related to me all the particulars of the capture and final discovery of his sister Frances, and other incidents connected with the sufferings of his family. His father was a Quaker, and was distinguished for his kindness to the Indians. He remained unharmed at the time of the invasion, and, while the torch was applied to the dwellings of others, his was left untouched. But his son Giles was in the battle. This doubtless excited the ire of the Indians, and they resolved on vengeance. Late in autumn they were seen prowling about the house, which was situated about one hundred rods from the Wilkesbarre Fort. A neighbor named Kingsley had been made a prisoner, and his wife and two sons had a welcome home in Mr. Slocum's family. One morning theNovember 2, 1778two boys were grinding a knife near the house, when a rifle-shot and a shriek brought Mrs. Slocum to the door. An Indian was scalping the eldest boy, a lad of fifteen, with the knife he had been grinding. The savage then went into the house, and caught up a little son of Mrs. Slocum. "See!" exclaimed the frightened mother, "he can do thee no good; he is lame." The Indian released the boy, took up her little daughter Frances, aged five years, gently in his arms, and, seizing the younger Kingsley, hastened to the mountains. Two Indians who were with, him carried off a black girl, about seventeen years old Mr. Slocum's little daughter, aged nine years, caught up her brother Joseph (my informant) two and a half years old, and fled in safety to the fort, where an alarm was given, but the savages were beyond successful pursuit.
About six weeks afterward Mr. Slocum and his father-in-law, Ira Trip, wereDecember 16shot and scalped by some Indians while foddering cattle near the house. Again the savages escaped with their horrid trophies. Mrs. Slocum, bereft of father, husband, and child, and stripped of all possessions but the house that sheltered her, could not leave the valley, for nine helpless children were yet in her household. She trusted in the God of Elijah, and, if she was not fed by the ravens, she was spared by the vultures. She mourned not for the dead, for they were at rest; but little Frances, her lost darling, where was she? The lamp of hope kept on burning, but years rolled by, and no tidings of the little one came. When peace returned, and friendly intercourse with Canada was established, two of the little captive's brothers started in search of her. They traversed the wilderness to Niagara, offering rewards for her discovery, but all in vain. They returned to Wyoming, convinced that the child was dead. But the mother's heart was still the shrine of hope,
Mrs. Slocum's Presentiments.—A Foundling.—Disappointment.—Singular Discovery of the "lost Sister."
and she felt assured that Frances was not in the grave. Her soul appeared to commune with that of her child, and she often said, "I know Frances is living." At length the mother's heart was cheered; a woman (for many years had now passed, and Frances, if living, must be a full-grown woman) was found among the Indians, answering the description of the lost one. She only remembered being carried away from the Susquehanna. Mrs. Slocum took her home and cherished her with a mother's tenderness. Yet the mysterious link of sympathy which binds the maternal spirit to its offspring was unfelt, and the bereaved mother was bereaved still. "It may be Frances, but it does not seem so. Yet the woman shall be ever welcome," said Mrs. Slocum. The foundling also felt no filial yearnings, and, both becoming convinced that no consanguinity existed, the orphan returned to her Indian friends. From time to time the hope of the mother would be revived, and journeys were made to distant Indian settlements in search of the lost sister, but in vain. The mother went "down into the grave mourning," and little Frances was almost forgotten. Her brothers had become aged men, and their grandchildren were playing upon the very spot whence she had been taken.
In the summer of 1837, fifty-nine years after her capture, intelligence of Frances was received. Colonel Ewing, an Indian agent and trader, in a letter from Logansport, Indiana, to the editor of the Lancaster Intelligencer, * gave such information that all doubts respecting her identity were removed, and Joseph Slocum, with the sister who carried him to the fort, and yet survived, immediately journeyed to Ohio, where they were joined by their younger brother Isaac. They proceeded to Logansport, where they found Mr. Ewing, and ascertained that the woman spoken of by him lived about twelve miles from the village. She was immediately sent for, and toward evening the next day she came into the town, riding a spirited young horse, accompanied by her two daughters, dressed in full Indian costume, and the husband of one of them. An interpreter was procured (for she could not speak or understand English), and she listened seriously to what her brothers had to say. She answered but little, and at sunset departed for her home, promising to return the next morning. The brothers and sister were quite sure that it was indeed Frances, though in her face nothing but Indian lineaments were seen, her color alone revealing her origin.
True to her appointment, she appeared the following morning, accompanied as before. Mr. Joseph Slocum then mentioned a mark of recognition, which his mother had said would be a sure test. While playing one day with a hammer in a blacksmith's shop, Joseph, then a child two and a half years old, gave Frances a blow upon the middle finger of the left hand, which crushed the bone and deprived the finger of its nail. This test Mr. Slocum had withheld until others should fail. When he mentioned it, the aged woman was greatly agitated, and, while tears filled the furrows of her face, she held out the wounded finger. There was no longer a doubt, and a scene of great interest ensued. Her affections for her
*This letter was dated January 20th, 1835, a year and a half previous, and gave the following account: "There is now living near this place, among the Miami tribe of Indians, an aged white woman, who, a few days ago, told me that she was taken away from her father's house, on or near the Susquehanna River, when she was very young. She says her father's name was Slocum; that he was a Quaker, and wore a large-brimmed hat; that he lived about half a mile from a town where there was a fort. She has two daughters living. Her husband is dead. She is old and feeble, and thinks she shall not live long. These considerations induced her to give the present history of herself, which she never would before, fearing her kindred would come and force her away. She has lived long and happily as an Indian, is very respectable and wealthy, sober and honest. Her name is without reproach." The cause of the delay in the publication of the letter, and of its final appearance and effect, was not a little singular. Mr. Ewing sent it to the postmaster at Lancaster, with a request that he would have it published in a Pennsylvania paper. The postmaster, not acquainted with the writer, concluded that it was a hoax, and cast the letter among other papers, where it remained a year and a half. One day his wife, while engaged in arranging the office, saw the letter, and, having her feelings very much interested, sent it to the editor of the Intelligencer. It so happened that the issue of his paper in which the letter was published contained an important temperance document, and a large number of extra copies were printed for general distribution. One of these was sent to a gentleman in Wyoming, who, having heard the story of the "lost sister," and knowing Mr. Joseph Slocum, put the paper into his hands; and thus, by a series of providential circumstances, a clew to Frances was discovered.
Interview between the "lost Sister" and her white Kindred.—Her Narrative.—Her Condition.—Children and Grandchildren
kindred, that had slumbered half a century, were aroused, and she made earnest inquiries after her father, mother, brothers, and sisters. Her full heart—full with the cherished secrets of her history—was opened, and the story of her life freely given.
9373
She said the savages (who were Delawares), after taking her to a rocky cave in the mountains, departed for the Indian country. The first night was the unhappiest of her life. She was kindly treated, being carried tenderly in their arms when she was weary. She was adopted in an Indian family, and brought up as their daughter. For years she led a roving life, and loved it. She was taught the use of the bow and arrow, and became expert in all the employments of savage existence. When she was grown to womanhood both her Indian parents died, and she soon afterward married a young chief of the nation, and removed to the Ohio country. She was treated with more respect than the Indian women generally; and so happy was she in her domestic relations, that the chance of being discovered and compelled to return among the whites was the greatest evil that she feared, for she had been taught that they were the implacable enemies of the Indians, whom she loved. Her husband died, and, her people having joined the Miamies, she went with them and married one of that tribe. The last husband was also dead, and she had been a widow many years Children and grandchildren were around her, and her life was passing pleasantly away When she concluded the narrative, she lifted her right hand in a solemn manner, and said, "All this is as true as that there is a Great Spirit in the heavens!" She had entirely forgotten her native language, and was a pagan. To her Christ and the Christian's Sabbath were unknown.
On the day after the seeond interview, the brothers and sister, with the interpreter, rode out to her dwelling. It was a well-built log house, in the midst of cultivation. A large herd of cattle and sixty horses were grazing in the pastures. Every thing betokened plenty and comfort, for she was wealthy, when her wants and her means were compared. Her annuity from government, which she received as one of the Miami tribe, had been saved, and she had about one thousand dollars in specie. Her white friends passed several days very agreeably with her; and subsequently her brother Joseph, with his daughter, the wife of
* This portrait I copied from a painting of life size in the possession of her brother, Mr. Joseph Slocum, of Wilkesbarre. It was painted for him by an artist named Winter, residing at Logansport. Her underdress is scarlet, and the mantle with the large sleeve is black cloth. The Indians gave her the name of Ma-con-a-qua, a Young Bear. The names of her children and grandchildren are as follows: Eldest daughter, Kich-ke-ne-che-quah, Cut Finger; youngest daughter, O-saw-she-quah, Yellow Leaf. Grandchildren: Kin-pe-no-quah, Corn Tassel; Wap-pa-no-se-a, Blue Corn; Kim-on-sa-quah, Young Panther.
A Sabbath in Wyoming.—Visit to Mrs. Myers.—Incidents of her Life.—Escape of her Father and Brother from Indians.
the Hon. Ziba Bennet of Wyoming, made her another visit, and bade her a last farewell. She died about four years ago, and was buried with considerable pomp, for she was regarded as a queen among her tribe. *
September 18, 1848I passed a Sabbath in Wyoming. It was a dull and cheerless day. The mountains were hooded with vapor, and all day a chilly drizzle made the trees weep. But Monday morning dawned clear and warm, and in the course of the day I revisited Forty Fort and the battle-ground, ascended the mountain to Prospect Rock, to obtain another glorious view of the valley, peeped into the black caverns of the coal mines at the foot of the hills, and at noon took shelter from the hot sun in the shaded walks of Toby's Eddy, where Zinzendorf pitched his tent. Thence I rode to the residence of Mr. Myers, a son of the venerable lady already alluded to, where I passed an interesting hour with the living chronicle of the woes of Wyoming. I found her sitting in an easy chair, peeling apples, and her welcome was as cheerful and cordial as she could have given to a cherished friend. Her memory was clear, and she related the incidents of her girlhood with a perspicuity that evinced remarkable mental vigor. Although blindness has shut out the beautiful, and deprived her of much enjoyment, yet pious resignation, added to natural vivacity, makes her society extremely agreeable. "I am like a withered stalk, whose flower hath fallen," she said; "but," she added, with a pleasant smile, "the fragrance still lingers." She was sixteen years old at the time of the invasion, and was in Forty Fort when it surrendered. Every minute circumstance there she remembered clearly, and her narrative of events was substantially the same as recorded in the last chapter. Her father's house was near the fort, and for a week after the surrender it was spared, while others were plundered and destroyed. Every morning when she arose her first thought was their house, and she would go early to see if it was safe. One morning as she looked she saw the flames burst through the roof, and in an hour it was a heap of embers. She remained two weeks in the valley after the surrender of the fort. The Indians kept her face painted and a white fillet around her head, as a protection against the tomahawks of strange savages, and she was treated very kindly by them. When Colonel Denison and others fled from the valley, she and her family accompanied them. After the savages left the valley, her family returned, and for seventy years she has enjoyed the sweets of peace and domestic happiness. Her maiden name was Bennet, and her family were conspicuous in the events at Wyoming during the Revolution.1 2 She has been many years a widow. One of her sons was high sheriff of Luzerne county, another was a magistrate, and a daughter is the wife of the Rev. Dr. Peck, the editor of the Methodist Episcopal Review, published at the "Book Concern," in New York. She is yet living (November, 1849), at the ripe age of eighty-eight years, honored and beloved by all.
I returned to Wilkesbarre at sunset. The evening was as pleasant as June,September 20.the moonlight scene from the upper piazza of the Phoenix, embracing the quiet-flowing Susquehanna, with its fringe of noble trees; the sparkling of the lights at
* When the Miamies were removed from Indiana, the "lost sister" and her Indian relatives were exempted. The affecting story of her life was laid before Congress, and so eloquently did John Quincy Adams plead her cause, that he drew tears from the eyes of many members. Congress gave her a tract of land a mile square, to be held in perpetuity by her descendants, and there her children and grandchildren still dwell.
** Her brother Solomon was in the battle. In the spring succeeding the invasion, the father of Mrs. Myers, her brother (a lad), and Lebbeus Hammond (one of the two who escaped from Queen Esther at the bloody rock) were captured by a party of Indians while at work in the field, and hurried away to the north. It was evident that they were destined for torture, and, while the Indians were drinking at a spring on the third day of their journey into the wilderness, they concerted a plan for escape. Mr. Bennet, being old, was allowed to travel unbound, but the arms of Hammond and the boy were tied. There were six Indians in the party. At night all were laid down to sleep but Mr. Bennet and an Indian. The former brought in dry wood for the fire, and kept himself busy for some time. He then sat down by the fire, and, taking up a spear, he rolled it playfully on his thigh. The Indian finally began to nod, and the others were snoring soundly. Watching his opportunity, Bennet thrust the savage through with the spear, cut the cords that bound his son and Hammond, and the three attacked the sleeping savages. Five were killed, the other one escaped. The captives returned home, bringing, as trophies, the scalps of the slain savages.
Revival of Civil War in Wyoming.—Decree of Trenton.—Its Effect. Injustice toward the "Yankees."—Inaction of Congress.
Kingston, and the dark outline of the Shawnee Mountains, all hallowed by historic associations, was one of great beauty and interest. Let us employ the quiet hour in reminiscences of some stirring events that occurred, within trumpet call of our presence, after the Revolution, for early on the morrow I must leave Wyoming, perhaps forever.
We have considered the civil war that disturbed Wyoming before the Revolution. That great movement absorbed all lesser topics; but as soon as the storm had subsided, and private interests again became paramount, old jealousies and animosities were resuscitated, and struggled into active life. As soon as all fear of the Indians had subsided, Connecticut poured hundreds of immigrants into this paradise of the Susquehanna. The influx was regarded with jealousy by the Pennsylvanians, and it was not long before all the rancor of the Penny-mite and Yankee war was reproduced.
The Articles of Confederation, under which the general government of the United States was carried on, having made provision for the adjustment of difficulties that might arise between states, and Connecticut insisting upon the maintenance of its jurisdiction over Wyoming, Pennsylvania applied to Congress to appoint a commission to hear the claimants by representatives, and to determine the question in dispute. The commissioners met at Trenton, in New Jersey, toward the close of 1782, and, after a session of five weeks, decided, unanimously, that Connecticut had no right to the land in controversy, and that the jurisdiction and preemption of all lands belonged to Pennsylvania. The people of Wyoming appeared to be well satisfied with the decision, for, considering it a question of jurisdiction only, they deemed it a matter of little moment whether they rendered allegiance to Connecticut or Pennsylvania. The Pennsylvanians, however, did not so construe the decision, but contended not only for jurisdiction, but for the soil, and steps were immediately taken for a sweeping ejectment of the Connecticut settlers. In March ensuing, two companies were sent to garrison the fort at Wilkesbarre, under the pretext of affording protection to the people; and the name of the fort was changed to Dickinson, in honor of the President of the Council of the State. Pennsylvania had already appointed three commissioners to repair to Wyoming, to inquire into the state of affairs, and report proper measures to be adopted toward the settlers. Their report proposed an entire surrender, on the part of the Wyoming people, of their tenures, and all claim to the soil then in their possession, with their improvements; in lieu of which they were to receive an indefinite compensation, at the option of their oppressors, in the wild lands of some unknown region. It was a most unjust and tyrannical measure, for the right to the soil had been purchased, not only with money, but with the dreadful sufferings of those about to be driven away. This report of the commissioners, and the quartering of troops in the valley, now that the war was ended, and the spirit of tyrannical domination that characterized the soldiers, greatly exasperated the people, and they were upon the verge of open insurrection for several months.
Early in the autumn two special justices of the peace were appointed, who, in concert with the military, formed a tribunal for the adjudication of all questions arising under the civil law. The real object of constituting this tribunal, sustained by military force, was obvious; it was to dispossess the Connecticut people of their farms. The tribunal became an instrument of cruelty and oppression, and a disgrace to the character of civilization. The next year, according to Chapman, "the people were not only subject to insult, but their crops were destroyed in their fields, their cattle were seized and driven away, and1783in some instances their houses were destroyed by fire and the females rendered victims of licentiousness." But why this rigorous treatment? "It was," says Pickering, "not only to strip the people of their possessions, but, by wearying them of their 'promised land,' drive them from the valley." Although the inhabitants were greatly excited, they loved peace and order, and appealed to the Legislature of Pennsylvania for justice. Their appeal was unnoticed, and they sent a memorial to Congress. That body resolved (a) that aa January 23, 1784committee of the states should hear both parties on the first Monday in June following; but neither Congress nor a committee of the states were in session at the time designated, and the people were left without redress.
Great Deluge in Wyoming.—Danger and Distress of the Inhabitants.—Reappearance of the Soldiers.—Renewal of Hostilities.
In the mean while a terrible scourge swept over the valley. The winter had been intensely cold; snow fell to a great depth, and the Susquehanna was bridged by ice of uncommon thickness. The mountains, covered with forests, treasured up vast beds of snow among their rocks and in their deep ravines, from the action of the sun. In March, a warm rain fell for nearly three days in succession. The snow melted, and every mountain rivulet became a sweeping torrent, pouring its volume into the Susquehanna. The ice in the river was broken up, and the huge masses, borne upon the flood, obstructed by trees, formed immense dams, spreading the waters of the swollen river over the plains. At length the narrow Nanticoke pass at the lower end of the valley became blocked with the ice, and the water, flowing back, submerged the river flats, and filled all the lower intervales. Houses and barns were uplifted on the bosom of the waters. The people fled to the higher points in the valley, some to the mountains. For several hours the waters continued to rise, until suddenly a dam in the mountain gorge, at the upper end of the valley, gave way, and down came the flood with fearful strength. All the ice barriers in the valley were broken up, and the ponderous masses of ice, mingled with floating houses, barns, fences, drowned cattle and sheep, stacks of hay, furniture, and agricultural implements, were scattered over the plains, * or hurried forward to the broader expanse of the river below. It was a scene of fearful grandeur, and to the poor settlers, shivering in the mountains, or huddled upon the little hills in the midst of the roaring floods, the star of hope seemed forever set. The present was utter desolation—the future would unveil injustice and oppression.
As soon as the floods subsided the inhabitants returned, and with them came the soldiers, who snatched from them nearly all of the little food that had been saved, for they were "quartered upon the people." Their rapacity and oppression were greater than ever, and the settlers, anxious to retrieve their farms from the ruin of the flood, were not allowed to work in peace, but were tormented by them continually. At length the people resolved to oppose their oppressors by force, and armed for the purpose. The magistracy, indignant at their presumption, sent out the soldiers to disarm them; and in the process one hundred and fifty families, many of whom had lost portions of their household in the battle of Wyoming, were turned out of their newly-constructed dwellings, and compelled to fly on foot through the wilderness to the Delaware, a distance of eighty miles. Houses were burned, and other atrocities were committed. Ashamed of such conduct, the Legislature of Pennsylvania (which had refused to vote supplies to the sufferers by the flood), when the naked facts were known, endeavored to heal the wounds which, under its sanction, had been inflicted, and, in a measure, to wipe out the stain that rested upon the state authorities. The troops were discharged, except a small guard left at Fort Dickinson, and a proclamation was issued, inviting the people who had been driven away to return. Some of them did so, but the valley was allowed but a short season of repose.
So many of the discharged soldiers joined the guard at the Wilkesbarre Fort, that the people, alarmed, garrisoned Forty Fort. A party of them, having occasion to visit theirJuly 20, 1784grain-fields below, were fired upon by a detachment of thirty from the other fort, and two promising young men were killed. The people resolved on retaliation, and about midnight marched to Wilkesbarre Fort, to take the garrison by surprise. The latter, informed of the movement, were prepared to receive them, and the settlers returned to Forty Fort with a stock of provisions. On the 27th, the people, led by Colonel John Franklin, a native of Connecticut, invested the Wilkesbarre Fort, and made a formal summons for surrender. Two hours were allowed the besieged for an answer. Before one hour had elapsed information was received that a considerable re-enforcement for the garrison was approaching. The siege was raised, and the besiegers returned to Forty Fort. It was a false alarm; the strangers, who were supposed to be the pioneers of a large number who were approaching,
* It is said that so huge were many of the masses of ice that were lodged in different portions of the valley, that it was the last of July before they were melted away.
Armstrong's Expedition.—Stratagem.—Change in Publie Sentiment—The Censors.—Appeal for Relief.
a September 17.were a committee appointed by the state council to proceed to Wyoming and disarm both parties. A conference was held, and such was the state of feeling that neither party would listen to the commissioners.
Stronger measures were now deemed necessary, and Colonel John Armstrong was sent with a considerable force to establish order in the valley. From Easton he sent forward a detachment, which was captured among the mountains on its way to Wyoming, by a party of Connecticut people. Armstrong pushed forward, and on the 4th ofAugust 2, 1784
August reached Wyoming, where his whole force numbered about four hundred men, including the garrison in Wilkesbarre or Dickinson Fort. He found Forty Fort too strong for successful attack, and resorted to stratagem. He professed pacific intentions, and proposed to the people of all parties to deliver up their arms at Fort Dickinson, and there reclaim any property which they might identify as their own. Numbers of the Connecticut people believed him sincere, went to the fort, delivered up their arms, and were captured. Forty of them were sent to the prison at Sunbury, and nearly as many to Easton. The jailer of the latter place was knocked down by a young man named Inman, and the whole party escaped. (a) They returned to the valley in company with about forty Vermonters, and, finding Armstrong and the few men left with him (for a large portion of his men had been discharged when the prisoners were sent to jail) harvesting the crops, they attacked them and drove them into Fort Dickinson. Forty Fort was again garrisoned by the people, and a plan was arranged for recovering the arms which they had surrendered. A blockhouse in which they were stored was attacked, and the arms recovered. Two men in the block-house were mortally wounded.
On hearing of this latter event, the executive council sent another expedition to Wyoming, under Armstrong, who was at the same time promoted to the office of adjutant general of the state. But the sympathies of the people of Pennsylvania began to be enlisted in favor of the Wyoming settlers, and they were regarded as a persecuted party. President Dickinson also remonstrated with the Council and General Assembly, but to no purpose. * It so happened that about this time the Board of Censors held their septennial meeting. They called upon the Assembly for papers relative to Wyoming. The Assembly refused acquiescence. A mandamus was issued, but the Assembly treated it with contempt. Thus treated, and viewing affairs justly, the Censors openly espoused the cause of the Connecticut people, condemned all of the military proceedings, and passed a vote of censure upon the government of the state. This strengthened the hands and hearts of the Wyoming people. They defied Armstrong and his troops; and as winter was approaching, food scarce, and not a recruit could be obtained, that officer discharged the garrison and returned to Philadelphia Though relieved of the presence of the military, the condition of the settlers was indeed deplorable. What the spring flood had spared was small, and the presence of the troops had prevented sowing and reaping. They appealed to Congress and to Connecticut for aid, ** but they received little more than the cold charity of words—"Be ye clothed, and be ye fed"—without contributing to their necessities. The last military expedition against Wyoming had been accomplished, yet the question of possession was unsettled, and they had but little heart to improve their lands, not knowing how soon other efforts might be made to dispossess them. The population, however, increased rapidly, and for two years quiet prevailed
* Pennsylvania, under its first independent state Constitution, had no officer bearing the title of governor. The government of the commonwealth was vested in a House of Representatives, a president, and council. There was also a Board of Censors, elected by the people, who were to meet once in seven years, to inquire whether the Constitution had, in the mean while, been violated, and to transact other general supervisory business, such as trying impeachments, recommending the repeal of unwholesome laws, &c.
** In their appeal to the Connecticut Assembly they set forth that their "numbers were reduced to about two thousand souls, most of whom were women and children, driven, in many cases, from their proper habitations, and living in huts of bark in the woods, without provisions for the approaching winter, while the Pennsylvania troops and land claimants were in possession of their houses and farms, and wasting and destroying their cattle and subsistence."
Luzerne.—Timothy Pickering in Wyoming.—Organization of the County.—Memoir of Pickering
1786inWyoming. On the petition of the people, the district of Wyoming and vicinity were formed into a new county, which they named Luzerne. *