0427m
The first opposition to the invaders was made by twenty-five of the inhabitants of the town (some of whom were students of Yale College), under Captain Hillhouse, who met an advanced party of the enemy on Milford Hill. Already the West Bridge on the Milford Road had been destroyed, some field pieces taken thither, and slight breast-works thrown up
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Although there was but a handful of Americans, they were animated by such spirit, when they saw their homes and families in peril, that they drove the advancing enemy nearly back to their landing-place, and took one prisoner. The whole body of the invaders now moved forward, with strong flanking parties and two field pieces. The cannons of the Americans at West Bridge kept up such a brisk fire that the enemy dared not venture further upon that road, but moved along Milford Hill, northward to the Derby Road, to enter the town by that avenue. This movement required a circuitous march of several miles. The first attacking party of the Americans, continually augmenting, soon swelled to a hundred and fifty, and a sharp conflict ensued with the enemy's left flank, near the Milford Road. In this skirmish Major Campbell, the British adjutant, was killed. He was singled out by a militia-man concealed behind a rock, and fell, pierced by a musket-ball
* This view is from the Milford Road, eastward of West Bridge. The high ground in the distance is Milford Hill, on which is seen the road, directly over the umbrella. A little to the right of the road is the spot where Major Campbell was buried. West Bridge is about a mile and a half from the central part of New Haven.
** This rude memorial was erected in 1831, by J. W. Barber, Esq., of New Haven, the historian of that city, and author of the Historical Collections of Connecticut, as a tribute of respect for a meritorious officer. It is about a foot and a half high. The site of Campbell's grave was pointed out to Mr. Barber by the late Chauncy Ailing, who saw him buried. Several Americans, who were killed at the same time, were buried near. Their remains were afterward removed. Those of Adjutant Campbell rest undisturbed.
Campbell's Grave.—Entrance of tbe Enemy into New Haven.—Dr. Daggett and his Treatment—Landing of Tryon.
near his heart. He was wrapped in a blanket, and carried upon a sheep-litter to a house near by, where he expired. He was buried in a shallow grave not far from the spot where he fell, on the summit of the high ground near the intersection of the Milford and West Haven Roads, in the southwest corner of a field known asCampbell's Lot.
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After the skirmish, the British pressed onward toward the Derby Road. Eye-witnesses described their appearance from points near the city as very brilliant; Milford Hill seemed all in a blaze, from the mingled effects upon the eye of scarlet uniforms and glittering arms. The Americans annoyed them exceedingly all the way to Thompson's Bridge (now Westville), on the Derby Road, and the small force at West Bridge, under Captain Phineas Bradley, hastened to that point to oppose their passage. Bradley was too late; Garth had possession of the bridge and the fording-places of the stream, and, after a sharp skirmish of ten minutes, he drove the militia before him, and marched triumphantly into the town between twelve and one o'clock. He had been piloted all the way from the landing-place by a young Tory named William Chandler, who, with his father and family, left New Haven when the enemy departed.
Among those who went out to the West Bridge and beyond, to oppose the enemy, was the Rev. Dr. Daggett, * then late President of Yale College, and a warm republican. Armed with a musket, he joined his friends to oppose the common enemy. Near the West Bridge he was wounded and made a prisoner, and, but for the interference of young Chandler, the Tory guide, who had been a student in the college, he would doubtless have been murdered. He was cruelly injured with bayonets, and by a severe blow across the bowels with the butt of a musket, after he had surrendered and begged for quarters. ** Yet his firmness did not forsake him. While abused and cursed, he was asked whether, if released, he would again take up arms against them, and replied, "I rather believe I shall if I get an opportunity."
As soon as the boats that conveyed the first division of the enemy to shore returned, the second division, under Tryon, consisting chiefly of Hessians and Tories, landed, with two pieces of cannon, on the east side of the harbor, where the light-house now stands. They marched up and attacked the little fort on Black Rock (now Fort Hale), which was defended by a feeble garrison of only nineteen men, with three pieces of artillery. After a slight skirmish, the Americans were driven from the post. The enemy then pushed toward the town, while their shipping drew nearer and menaced the inhab-
* Naphtali Daggett was a native of Battleborough, Massachusetts. He graduated at Yale College in 1748, and in 1756 was appointed professor of divinity in that institution, whieh office he held until his death. He officiated as president of the college from 1766 until 1777, when he was succeeded by Dr. Stiles. He died November 25th, 1780, aged about sixty years.
** "I was insulted," says the doctor, in his account preserved in MS. in the office of the Secretary of State, at Hartford, "in the most shocking manner by the ruffian soldiers, many of which came at me with fixed bayonets, and swore they would kill me on the spot. They drove me with the main body a hasty march of five miles or more. They damned me, those that took me, because they spared my life. Thus, amid a thousand insults, my infernal drivers hastened me along, faster than my strength would admit in the extreme heat of the day, weakened as I was by my wounds and the loss of blood, which, at a moderate computation, could not be less than one quart. And when I failed, in some degree, through faintness, he would strike me on the back with a heavy walking-staff, and kick me behind with his foot. At length, by the supporting power of God, I arrived at the Green, New Haven. But my life was almost spent, the world around me several times appearing as dark as midnight. I obtained leave of an officer to be carried into the Widow Lyman's and laid upon a bed, where I lay the rest of the day and succeeding night, in such acute and excruciating pain as I never felt before."
Conduct of the Enemy.—People on East Rock.—Evacuation by the British.—Destruction of Fairfield.
itants with bombardment. At the bridge over Neck Creek (Tomlinson's Bridge) the Americans made some resistance with a field piece, but were soon obliged to yield to superior numbers and discipline. Before night the town was completely possessed by the invaders. Throughout the remainder of the day and night the soldiery committed many excesses and crimes, plundering deserted houses, ravishing unprotected women, and murdering several citizens, among whom were the venerable Mr. Beers, and an aged and helpless man named English.
The general movements of the enemy through the day could be seen by the fugitive inhabitants on East Neck, and gloomy indeed was the night they passed there. Families were separated, for the men were generally mustering from all parts of the adjacent country to expel the enemy. Anxiously their hearts beat for kindred then in peril, and eagerly their eyes were turned toward their homes, in momentary expectation of beholding them in flames.
It was Garth's intention to burn the town. He declared, in a note to Tryon, that the "conflagration it so richly deserved should commence as soon as he should secure the Neck Bridge." But during the night he changed his mind. Early on Sunday morning,a July 7, 1779perceiving the militia collecting in large numbers, he called in his guards, and retreated to his boats. Part of his troops went on board the ships, and part crossed over to East Haven, where they joined Tryon's division. Toward that point the militia now directed their attention. In the afternoon, finding himself hard pressed by the citizen soldiers that were flocking to New Haven from the adjacent country, Tryon ordered a retreat to the shipping. Several buildings and some vessels and stores were set on fire at East Haven when they left. At five o'clock the fleet weighed anchor and sailed westward, carrying away about forty of the inhabitants of the town.
The appetite of Tryon and his troops for pillage and murder was not sated when, on the afternoon of the 7th, they embarked from Fort Rock, now Fort Hale. * Sailing down the Sound, they anchored off the village of Fairfield on the morning of the 8th. After a fog that lay upon the waters had cleared away, they landed a little eastward of Kensie's Point, at a place called the Pines, and marched immediately to the village. Dr. Timothy Dwight has given a graphic description of the destruction of the town. "On the 7th of July, 1779," he says, "Governor Tryon, with the army I have already mentioned, sailed from New Haven to Fairfield, and the next morning disembarked upon the beach. A few militia assembled to oppose them, and, in a desultory, scattered manner, fought with great intrepidity through most of the day. They killed some, took several prisoners, and wounded more. But the expedition was so sudden and unexpected, that efforts made in this manner were necessarily fruitless. The town was plundered; a great part of the houses, together with two churches, the court-house, jail, and school-houses, were burned. The barns had just been filled with wheat and other produce. The inhabitants, therefore, were turned out into the world almost literally destitute.
"Mrs. Burr, the wife of Thaddeus Burr, Esq., high sheriff of the county, resolved to continue in the mansion-house of the family, and make an attempt to save it from conflagration The house stood at a sufficient distance from other buildings. Mrs. Burr was adorned with all the qualities which give distinction to her sex; possessed of fine accomplishments, and a dignity of character scarcely rivaled; and probably had never known what it was to be treated with disrespect, or even with inattention. She made a personal application to Governor Tryon, in terms which, from a lady of her high respectability, could hardly have failed of a satisfactory answer from any person who claimed the title of a gentleman. The answer which she actually received was, however, rude and brutal, and spoke the want, not only of politeness and humanity, but even of vulgar civility. The house was sentenced to the flames, and was speedily set on fire. An attempt was made in the mean time, by some
* Fort Hale is situated upon an insulated rock, two miles from the end of Long Wharf, New Haven. It was named in honor of Captain Nathan Hale, one of the early Revolutionary martyrs. The Americans had a battery of three guns upon this point, which greatly annoyed the enemy when landing
Dwight's Account of the Destruction of Fairfield.—Tryon's Apology.—Extent of the Destruction.—The Buckley House.
of the soldiery, to rob her of a valuable watch, with rich furniture; for Governor Tryon refused to protect her, as well as to preserve the house. The watch had been already conveyed out of their reach; but the house, filled with every thing which contributes either to comfort or elegance of living, was laid in ashes.
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"While the town was in flames a thunder-storm overspread the heavens, just as night came on. The conflagration of near two hundred houses illumined the earth, the skirts of the clouds, and the waves of the Sound with a union of gloom and grandeur at once inexpressibly awful and magnificent. The sky speedily was hung with the deepest darkness Wherever the clouds were not tinged by the melancholy luster of the flames. The thunder rolled above. Beneath, the roaring of the fires filled up the intervals with a deep and hollow sound, which seemed to be the protracted murmur of the thunder reverberated from one end of heaven to the other. Add to this convulsion of the elements, and these dreadful effects of vindictive and wanton devastation, the trembling of the earth, the sharp sound of muskets occasionally discharged, the groans here and there of the wounded and dying, and the shouts of triumph; then place before your eyes crowds of the miserable sufferers, mingled with bodies of the militia, and from the neighboring hills taking a farewell prospect of their property and their dwellings, their happiness and their hopes, and you will form a just, but imperfect, picture of the burning of Fairfield. It needed no great effort of imagination to believe that the final day had arrived, and that, amid this funereal darkness, the morning would speedily dawn to which no night would ever succeed; the graves yield up their inhabitants; and the trial commence, at which was to be finally settled the destiny of man.
"The apology made by Governor Tryon for this Indian effort was conveyed in the following sentence: 'The village was burned, to resent the fire of the rebels from their houses, and to mask our retreat.' This declaration unequivocally proves that the rebels were troublesome to their invaders, and at the same time is to be considered as the best apology which they are able to make. But it contains a palpable falsehood, intended to justify conduct which admits of no excuse, and rejects with disdain every attempt at palliation. Why did this body of men land at Fairfield at all? There were here no stores, no fortress, no enemy, except such as were to be found in every village throughout the United States. It was undoubtedly the original object of the expedition to set fire to this town, and the apology was created after the work was done. It was perfectly unnecessary to mask the retreat. The townsmen, and the little collection of farmers assembled to aid them, had no power to disturb it. No British officer, no British soldier would confess that, in these circumstances, he felt the least anxiety concerning any molestation from such opposers. The next morning the troops re-embarked, and, proceeding to Green's Farms, set fire to the church and consumed it, together with fifteen dwelling-houses, eleven barns, and several stores." *
The Hessians who accompanied Tryon were his incendiaries. To them he intrusted the wielding of the torch, and faithfully they obeyed their master.
When the people fled from the town, not expecting that their houses would be burned, they left most of their furniture behind. The distress was consequently great, for many lost every earthly possession.
Among the buildings saved was that
* Dwight's Travels in New England, in., 512. According to a document in the office of the Secretary of State of Connecticut, the number of buildings destroyed was ninety-seven dwellings, sixty-seven barns, forty-eight stores, two school-houses, one county-house, two meeting-houses, and one Episcopal Church.
* This building stood upon the eastern side of the Green, fronting the church. It was demolished three or four years ago, having stood more than a century and a half. The engraving is a copy, by permission of the author, from Barber's Historical Collections of Connecticut, page 353. Tryon lodged in the upper room on the right of the main building.
Treatment of Mrs. Buckley.—Interference of General Silliman.—Humphreys's Elegy on the Burning of Fairfield
of Mr. Buckley, pictured in the engraving. Tryon made it his head-quarters. The naval officer who had charge of the British ships, and piloted them to Fairfield, was Mrs. Buckley's brother, and he had requested Tryon to spare the house of his sister. Tryon acquiesced, and, feeling his indebtedness to her brother, the general informed Mrs. Buckley that if there was any other house she wished to save she should be gratified. After the enemy left, the enraged militia, under Captain Sturges, placed a field piece in front of the dwelling, and then sent Mrs Buckley word that she might have two hours to clear the house, and leave it, or they would blow her to atoms. She found means to communicate a notice of her situation to General Silliman, who was about two miles distant. He immediately went to the town, and found one hundred and fifty men at the cannon. By threats and persuasion he induced them to withdraw. The next day Colonel Benjamin Tallmadge, with his regiment, arrived from White Plains, and, encamping on the smoking ruins, made Tryon's quarters his own. *
The cruelties committed upon helpless women and children, and the wanton destruction of property, at Fairfield, were worthy only of savages, and made the name of Tryon a synonym for every thing infernal. The passions of the soldiery were excited by strong drink, and murder, pillage, and brutal violence to women were their employment throughout the night. Like similar outrages elsewhere, these awakened the strongest feelings of hatred and revenge against the common enemy, and the pen, the pulpit, and the forum sent forth their righteous denunciations. Colonel David Humphreys, the soldier-poet of the Revolution, visited the scene of destruction soon after the event, and wrote the following elegy while on the spot.
"Ye smoking ruins, marks of hostile ire,
Ye ashes warm, which drink the tears that flow,
Ye desolated plains, my voice inspire,
And give soft music to the song of woe.
How pleasant, Fairfield, on the enraptured sight
Rose thy tall spires and oped thy social halls!
How oft my bosom beat with pure delight
At yonder spot where stand thy darken'd walls!
But there the voice of mirth resounds no more.
A silent sadness through the streets prevails;
The distant main alone is heard to roar,
The hollow chimneys hum with sudden gales—
Save where scorch'd elms the untimely foliage shed,
Which, rustling, hovers round the faded green—
Save where, at twilight, mourners frequent tread,
Mid recent graves, o'er desolation's scene.
How changed the blissful prospect when compared,
These glooms funereal, with thy former bloom,
Thy hospitable rights when Tryon shared,
Long ere he seal'd thy melancholy doom.
That impious wretch with coward voice decreed
Defenseless domes and hallow'd fanes to dust;
Beheld, with sneering smile, the wounded bleed,
And spurr'd his bands to rapine, blood, and last.
Vain was the widow's, vain the orphan's cry,
To touch his feelings or to soothe his rage—
Vain the fair drop that roll'd from beauty's eye,
Vain the dumb grief of supplicating age.
Could Tryon hope to quench the patriot flame,
Or make his deeds survive in glory's page?
Could Britons seek of savages the same,
Or deem it conquest thus the war to wage?
* Mrs. Buckley was not a friend of the enemy. According to her testimony, under oath, she was badly treated by the soldiery, notwithstanding she had a protection from General Garth, the second in command. They plundered her house, stripped her buckles from her shoes, tore a ring from her finger, and fired the house five times before leaving it.—See Hinman's Historical Collections, p. 620.
Tryon's Retreat from Failfield.—Journey resumed.—Return to New Haven.—Visit to West Bridge and other Localities.
Yes. Britons scorn the councils of the skies,
Extend wide havoc, spurn the insulted foes;
The insulted foes to ten-fold vengeance rise,
Resistance growing as the danger grows.
Red in their wounds, and pointing to the plain,
The visionary shapes before me stand;
The thunder bursts, the battle burns again,
And kindling fires encrimson all the strand.
Long, dusky wreaths of smoke, reluctant driven,
In black'ning volumes o'er the landscape bend:
Here the broad splendor blazes high to heaven,
There umber'd streams in purple pomp ascend.
In fiery eddies round the tott'ring walls,
Emitting sparks, the lighter fragments fly,
With frightful crash the burning mansion falls,
The works of years in glowing embers lie.
Tryon, behold thy sanguine flames aspire,
Clouds tinged with dies intolerably bright:
Behold, well pleased, the village wrapp'd in fire,
Let one wide ruin glut thy ravish'd sight!
Ere fades the grateful scene, indulge thine eyes,
See age and sickness tremulously slow
Creep from the flames. See babes in torture die,
And mothers swoon in agonies of woe.
Go, gaze enraptured with the mother's tear,
The infant's terror, and the captive's pain;
Where no hold bands can cheek thy cursed career,
Mix fire with blood on each unguarded plain!
These be thy triumphs, this thy boasted fame!
Daughters of mem'ry, raise the deathless song,
Repeat through endless years his hated name,
Embalm his crimes, and teach the world our wrong."
Large numbers of militia had collected in the neighborhood of Fairfield on the morning of the 9th, and at eight o'clock Tryon sounded a retreat to the shipping. His troops were galled very much by the militia, and it was noon before all were embarked. At three in the afternoon they weighed anchor and sailed over to Huntington, Long Island, whence they made a descent upon, and destroyed, Norwalk.
We will close the record and hasten from the mountain, for
"'Tis Sabbath morn, and lingering on the gale
The mellow'd peals of the sweet bells arise,
Floating where'er the restless wands prevail,
Laden with incense and with harmonies,"
and inviting me back to the city and the open sanctuary. I arrived in time for a luncheon breakfast, and to listen to an eloquent sermon in Trinity Church on the College Green, from a stripling deacon who had just taken orders. The afternoon was warm and lowery, the rain came pattering down in the evening, and the next morning a nor'easter was piping its melancholy notes among the stately elms of the city, * while the rain poured as if Aquarius had overturned his water-jar.
There was a lull in the storm about nine o'clock, and, accompanied by Mr. Barber, the artist-author, in a covered wagon, I visited some of the points of interest about the city. We first rode to the West Bridge on West River, near which the Americans made their first stand against General Garth, and in the midst of a heavy dash of rain made the sketch on page 423. Returning to the city, we visited the dwelling of Arnold, Neck Bridge, and the
Cemetery. In the latter, a large and beautiful "city of the dead," lie many illustrious remains, among which are those of Colonel David Humphreys, one of Washington's aids.
* The fine elms which shade the public square and vicinity were planted by the Rev. David Austin and Hon. James Hillhouse. They are the pride of New Haven, and have conferred upon it the title of The city of Elms.
The Cemetery.—Humphreys's Monument.—The Grave of Arnold's Wife.—Her Character.—Colonel Humphreys.
They lie near the southwestern part of the Cemetery, and over them stands a fine monument consisting of a granite obelisk and pedestal, about twelve feet in height.
9433
Upon two tablets of copper, inserted in the pedestal, is the following inscription, written by his friend, the author of M'Fingal: "David Humphreys, LL.D., Acad. Scient. Philad., Mass., at Connect., *
8433
In the northeast section of the Cemetery is a dark stone, neatly carved with an ornamental border, sacred to the memory of Margaret, the first wife of Benedict Arnold, who died on the 19th of June, 1775, while her husband was upon Lake Champlain. Her maiden name was Mansfield, and by her Arnold had three sons. She was thirty-one years old when she died. She is represented as a woman of the most fervent piety, exalted patriotism, gentleness of manners, and sweetness of disposition. These qualities are powerful checks upon unruly passions, particularly when exerted in the intimate relation of husband and wife. Had she lived until the close of the Revolution, far different might have been the fate of her husband, for there is little doubt that his resentments against Congress and the managers of military affairs for two years previous to his treason were fostered
* Mr. Barber gives the following translation: "David Humphreys, doctor of laws, member of the Academy of Sciences of Philadelphia, Massachusetts, and Connecticut, of the Bath [Agricultural Society] and of the Royal Society of London. Fired with the love of country and of liberty, he consecrated his youth wholly to the service of the republic, which he defended by his arms, aided by his counsels, adorned by his learning, and preserved in harmony with foreign nations. In the field he was the companion and aid of the great Washington, a colonel in the army of his country, and commander of the veteran volunteers of Connecticut. He went embassador to the courts of Portugal and Spain, and, returning, enriched his native land with the true golden fleece.* He was a distinguished historian and poet; a model and a patron of science, and of the ornamental and useful arts. After a full discharge of every duty, and a life well spent, he died on the 21st day of February, 1818, aged sixty-five years." To complete the brief biography given in this inscription, I will add that Colonel Humphreys was born in Derby, Connecticut, in 1753, and graduated at Yale College in 1771. He soon afterward went to reside with Colonel Phillips, of Phillips's Manor, New York. He joined the Continental army, and in 1778 was one of General Putnam's aids, with the rank of maior. Washington appointed him his aid in 1780, and he remained in the military family of the chief until the close of the war. For his valor at Yorktown, Congress honored him with a sword. He accompanied Jefferson to Paris, as secretary of legation, in 1784. Kosciusko accompanied them. He was a member of the Legislature of Connecticut in 1786, and about that time lie, Barlow, and Hopkins wrote the Anarchiad. From 1788 until he was appointed minister to Portugal, in 1790, he resided with Washington at Mount Vernon. He was appointed minister plenipotentiary to Spain in 1794; married the daughter of a wealthy English gentleman at Lisbon in 1797; returned in 1801, and for ten years devoted his time to agriculture. In 1812 he took the command of the militia of Connecticut. His death was sudden, caused by an organic disease of the heart. His literary attainments were considerable. Besides several poems, he wrote some political pamphlets; and in 1788, while at Mount Vernon, completed a life of Putnam, a large portion of the material of which he received from the lips of the veteran.
* This is in allusion to the fact that Colonel Humphreys was the man who introduced merino sheep into the United Stales, he sent over from Spain a flock of one hundred in 1801.
Arnold's Disaffection.—Dr. Eneas Munson.—Death of Colonel Scammell.—His Epitaph by Humphreys.
by his intercourse with the Tory friends of his second wife, Margaret Shippen, of Philadelphia.
9434
Indeed, the Loyalists claimed him for a friend as early as December, 1778. Charles Stewart, writing to Joseph Galloway, said, "General Arnold is in Philadelphia. It is said that he will be discharged, being thought a pert Tory. Certain it is that he associates mostly with these people."
On leaving the Cemetery, we called upon the venerable Eneas Munson, M.D., a vigorous relic of the Revolution. He lived until August, 1852, when more than eighty-nine years ol age. He was Dr. Thacher's assistant in the Continental army, and was present at the siege of Yorktown and the surrender of Cornwallis, in October, 1781. He was then a surgeon in Colonel Seammell's regiment, which, in that action, was attached to General Hamilton's brigade.
During the siege Colonel Scammell was shot by a Hessian cav officer, while reconnoitering a small redoubt on a point of land which had been alternately in possession of the Americans and British. It was just at twilight, and, while making careful observations, two Hessian horsemen came suddenly upon him, and presented their pistols. Perceiving that there was no chance for escape, he surrendered, saying, "Gentlemen, I am your prisoner." Either because they did not understand his words, or actuated by that want of humanity which generally characterized those mercernaries, one of them fired, and wounded the colonel mortally. He was carried to Williamsburg, and Dr. Munson was the first surgeon in attendance upon him. He died there on the 6th of October. Colonel Humphreys (to whose regiment Dr. Munson was attached after the death of Scammell) wrote the following poetic epitaph for the tomb of his friend. I do not know whether the lines were ever inscribed upon marble, or recorded by the pen of history by Dr. Munson, and I give them as a memorial of a brave and accomplished officer of the Revolution.
* This portrait is from a Daguerreotype kindly lent me by Dr. Munson, with permission to copy it
Nathan Beers.—Yale College.—Its political Character in the Revolution.—A Tory Student
"What though no friend could ward thine early fall,
Nor guardian angels turn the treacherous ball;
Bless'd shade, be soothed! Thy virtues all are known—
Thy fame shall last beyond this mouldering stone,
Which conquering armies, from their toils return,
Read to thy glory while thy fate they mourn."
A drawing of the place where Scammell was killed, and a biographical sketch of that officer, are given in the notice of my visit to Yorktown. Dr. Munson died in October, 1852.
9435
A few doors from Dr. Munson, in the same street, lived the almost centenarian, Nathan Beers, who was paymaster in Scammell's regiment at Yorktown. He was ninety-six years old, and completely demented; second childhood, with all its trials for the subject and his friends, was his lot; yet did I look with reverence upon that thin visage and "lack-luster eye." where once were indices of a noble mind within. A truer patriot never drew blade for his country, and, above all, he was "an honest man, the noblest work of God. For years he struggled with the misfortunes of life, and became involved in debt. At length Congress made a decision in his favor respecting a claim for a pension as paymaster in the Continental army, and arrearages amounting to some thousands of dollars were awarded him. There was enough to give him a competence in his old age, but even this reward for public services he handed over to his creditors. He has since gone to receive the final recompense of the patriot and Christian. He died on the 10th. of February, 1849, aged almost 98.
After a short visit to the Trumbull Gallery of Paintings and the Library of Yale College, * I returned to my lodgings, and at four o'clock in the afternoon departed in the cars for Hartford.
* Yale College, aside from its intrinsic worth as a seminary of learning, is remarkable for the great number of the leading men of the Revolution who were educated within its walls. That warm and consistent patriot, President Daggett, gave a political tone to the establishment favorable to the republican cause, and it was regarded as the nursery of Whig principles during the Revolution. When New Haven was invaded by Tryon, Yale College was marked for special vengeance, but, as we have seen, the invaders retreated hastily without burning the town. There were very few among the students, during our war for independence, who were imbued with Tory principles, and they were generally, if known, rather harshly dealt with.
* One instance may suffice to show the spirit of the times. In June, 1775, a student named Abiather Camp was reported unfriendly to Congress. A committee of investigation was appointed, who wrote a very polite note to the young gentleman, setting forth the charges made against him, and demanding an explicit denial, if the report was untrue. The young scape-grace returned the following answer:
"New Haven, June 13,1775."To the Honorable and Respectable Gentlemen of the Committeenow residing in Yale College: "May it please your honors,ham—ham—ham."Finis cumsistula, popularum gig—A man without a head has no need of a wig."Abiather Camp."
* The insulted committee resolved to advertise Camp as an enemy to his country, and to treat him with all possible scorn and neglect. Such advertisement was posted upon the hall door. He braved public opinion until October, when he recanted, and publicly asked pardon for his offenses.
* Yale College was founded by ten principal ministers in the colony, who met for the purpose, at New Haven, in 1700. Each brought a number of books at their next meeting in 1701, and, presenting them to the society, said, "I give these books for the founding of a college in the colony." A proposition to found a college had been named fifty years before. The first commencement was held at Saybrook, in 1702. In 1717 the first college building was erected in New Haven. It was seventy feet long and twenty-two wide. From time to time several liberal endowments have been made to the institution, the earliest and most munificent of which was from Elihu Yale, in whose honor the college was named. Among its distinguished benefactors were Sir Isaac Newton, Dean Berkley, Bishop Burnet, Halley, Edwards, &c. The present imposing pile was commenced in 1750. Additions have been made at different times, and it now consists of four spacious edifices, each four stories high, one hundred and four by forty feet on the ground; a chapel, lyceum, atheneum, chemical laboratory, dining-hall, and a dwelling-house for the president.
New England and its Associations.—Arrival at Hartford.—Continuation of the Storm.
"Land of the forest and the rock—
Of dark blue lake and mighty river—
Of mountains rear'd aloft to mock
The storm's career, the lightning's shock:
My own green land forever.
Oh! never may a son of thine,
Where'er his wandering steps incline,
Forget the sky which bent above
His childhood like a dream of love—
The stream beneath the green hill flowing—
The broad-armed trees above it growing—
The clear breeze through the foliage blowing,
Or hear, unmoved, the taunt of scorn
Breathed o'er the brave New England born."
Whittier
9436
LTHOUGH much of the soil of New England is rough and sterile, and labor—hard and unceasing labor—is necessary to procure subsistence for its teeming population, in no part of our republic can be found stronger birthplace attachments. It is no sentiment of recent growth, springing up under the influence of the genial warmth of our free institutions, but ante-dates our Revolution, and was prominently manifest in colonial This sentiment, strong and vigorous, gave birth to that zealous patriotism which distinguished the people of the Eastern States during the ten years preceding the war for independence, and the seven years of that contest. Republicanism seemed to be indigenous to the soil, and the people appeared to inhale the air of freedom at every breath. Every where upon the Connecticut, and eastward, loyalty to the sovereign—a commendable virtue in a people governed by a righteous prince—was changed by kingly oppression into loyalty to a high and holy principle, and hallowed, for all time, the region where it flourished. To a pilgrim on an errand like mine the rough hills and smiling valleys of New England are sanctuaries for patriot worship; and as our long train swept over the sandy plain of New Haven, and coursed among the hills of Wallingford and Meriden, an emotion stirred the breast akin to that of the Jew of old when going up to Jerusalem tothe Great Feast. A day's journey before me was Boston—the city of the pilgrims, the nursery of liberty cradled in the May Flower, the first altar-place of freedom in the Western World.
The storm, which had abated for a few hours at mid-day, came down with increased violence, and the wind-eddies wrapped the cars in such wreaths of smoke from the engine, that only an occasional glimpse of the country could be obtained. It was almost dark when weOctober 2, 1848reached Hartford, upon the Connecticut River, thirty-six miles northward of New Haven; where, sick and weary from the effects of exposure and fatigue during the morning, a glowing grate and an "old arm-chair" in a snug room at the "United States" were, under the circumstances, comforts which a prince might covet. Let us close the shutters against the impotent gusts, and pass the evening with the chroniclers of Hartford and its vicinage.
Hartford (Suckiag), and Wethersfield, four miles distant, were the earliest settlements in Connecticut. In 1633 the Dutch from Nieu Amsterdam went up the Connecticut River,
First Settlement at Hartford. First Meeting house in Connecticut.—Government organized. Union of New England Colonies
and established a trading-house and built a small fort on the south side of the Mill River, at its junction with the Connecticut, near the site of Hartford. The place is still known as Dutch Point.