USA > Connecticut > Windham County > Historic Gleanings in Windham County, Connecticut > Part 7
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Even a deeper shadow rested on a stately residence at Windham Green, the home of Col. Eleazer Fitch, high sheriff of the county. That beautiful home, so famed for social attraction and musical culture, was now closed and barred by outside pressure. A colonel in the old French war -- a civil officer under the King -Col. Fitch could not take sides with the patriots in resistance to royal authority. His words of repro- bation roused the ire of the inflammable people of Windham. A boycott was served upon him. A paper was circulated in which the signers pledged them- selves to withhold from Col. Fitch every possible ac- commodation. A miller must not grind; a, black- smith must not renew a horseshoe for a Tory-and
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this loyal gentleman who had been the idol of his generation, "the best looking man in the army," lived in isolation and loneliness, lacking the common comforts of life-"Bad weather for Tories," reports Col. Storrs, "yet we have some."
To a certain extent it is easy to follow the course of events during the Revolutionary period. We have official military records, details of public meet- ings, outline reports of movements and engagements in the limited newspaper of the day, but we know that much occurred of which we can gain no knowl- edge. It is a matter of wonderment that of home life we have so few glimpses, and yet we know that every home in the colonies was most intimately affected. Even where father, husband or son was not in actual service there was depreciation of cur- rency, diminution of supplies, interruption of the common routine of life. Public and private life, in town and home, were alike pivoted upon the war that was in progress.
Personally I have to confess great mis-improve- ment of privileges. My maternal grandmother was eighteen years of age at the close of the war, and af- terwards married a revolutionary soldier, yet all that I gained from her was a chance allusion that im- pressed my youthful sensibilities of "bloody tracks left by the soldiers in marching." "I was born," says our good old minister, Daniel Dow, "in 1772,
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and have a vivid recollection of many of the impor- tant events of the Revolutionary War"-and yet, though Doctor and Mrs. Dow were capital story tel- lers, ever ready to communicate, not one of those " vivid recollections " has been preserved by parish- ioner or descendant. I think I have seen but one revolutionary soldier, " Old Sibley "-who lived near the village. The boys of my time thought it great fun to hear his war stories, but the girls did not go for him. Pomfret Factory boys in the Quinebaug valley had the rare privilege of hearing live Bunker Hill stories from that worthy officer of the church militant-Dea. Elihu Sabin. He would tell them of his covering the retreat from the Hill and being con- fronted by a fierce-looking British officer when he had but one charge left in his musket.
" And did you kill him?" the boys would ask eagerly.
" Wall," he would answer deliberately, " I dunno exactly, but the last I see of him he was getting off his horse."
It is because of the increasing rarity of such first- hand incidents that we should take much pains to avail ourselves of every possible source of informa- tion ; to gather and note down every fact and item received from those who were personally connected with the Revolution. The time is not far distant when the last person will have passed away who has even seen a Revolutionary soldier.
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With the transfer of the seat of war from Boston to New York, came far heavier burdens to our Wind- ham County towns. No more pleasant intercourse with the camp ; no more return of sick and wounded to be nursed at home. But far more urgent was the demand and larger the number of those now enter- ing upon service. All the provision that could be spared from household supplies was brought forward for the use of the army. Every grain of salt, every scrap of saltpetre was carefully hoarded. House- wives ransacked their stores for towcloth for tent and knapsack. One-fourth of the men in each militia regiment, perfectly equipped with arms, balls, flints, and other needful articles, were ordered to hold themselves ready to march as minute-men at the shortest notice ; while recruiting for the several new regiments ordered by Government was pushed for- ward with greatest activity. A letter from Washing- ton, June 29, to Brig .- Gen. Wadsworth, hastens prep- arations-"The safety of our army under Heaven depends upon the seasonable arrival of the Connec- ticut regiments at New York." Woodstock compa- nies were ordered to set out, Thursday, July 4. If the whole company was not in readiness they were to start with twenty-five men, forwarding the re- mainder as fast as they became ready "with all con- venient speed." Do we wonder that such a summons sent a thrill through every soldier's home ? How
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great the danger they were facing in that strange far-off New York and Jersey! Yet they went by twos and threes from many a Woodstock home. Two sons went out from Henry Child's tavern-one son, at least, from the home of that leading patriot, Capt. Elisha Child, and a young man brought up in the family. While all were engrossed with final preparations and words of cheer and counsel, this orphan youth, thinking that should he fall in the campaign there were none to remember or mourn for him, stole off in the woods for a memorial tree which he set out in front of this old Ephraim Child house- and thus East Woodstock gained her "Revolutionary elm "-a grand old tree, as strong and thrifty as the nation it typifies. Little did those Woodstock men realize, as they marched off for service that morning of July 4, 1776, the significance of the events in which they were participating. Days passed before they even heard of that memorable Declaration that hallows that day forever to every son and daughter of our land. But we may well believe that its spirit was in their hearts, and in the hearts of their towns- men, who, though they had already sent out " a much greater number than their proportion," now pledged themselves anew " to do everything in their power to advantage the public cause." A letter from Wash- ington's own hand, commending them for their self- sacrifice in sparing their beloved minister, Rev. Abiel
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Leonard, to serve continuously as chaplain in Put- nam's regiment, was an additional stimulus. And Mr. Leonard's example and eloquent exhortations doubtless had great influence. As an instance of the sympathetic enthusiasm of the women, it is said that when in the preceding autumn some soldiers returned home when their term of enlistment had expired without waiting for formal discharge, that their wives gave them a hearty scolding and threatened to drive them back to the camp.
And now this courage and enthusiasm were to be sorely tested. This campaign of 1776 in Long Island and New York, brought a severe strain upon Con- necticut. She furnished by far the largest number for the field; her losses were very heavy. The battle and retreat from Long Island, the hurried stampede through New York city, the death of Knowlton, the sickness raging in the camp-all brought inexpressi- ble distress to the homes of these Windham County soldiers. The regular quota of men from the several towns were mustered into Colonels Ward and Dur- kee's regiments for the year's service. Another call was made in June for special service in Wadsworth's Brigade, at Long Island and New York city. A still more urgent call in September summoned the Eleventh Regiment, militia, with all speed to New York. A hundred and twelve men now went out from Killingly, and equal proportion from other towns, in-
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cluding every man that was fit for service. These were indeed "the times that tried men's souls" in camp and home. Every post brought tidings of fresh loss and disaster. The few letters that reached home told of defeat, sickness, suffering, imprisonment, and death. Here is a letter from Private Thomas Dike, who went out from Thompson Parish in the Eleventh Regiment :
" WESTCHESTER, Sept. ye 10th, 1776. Ever Honored Father and Mother :
After my duty to you hoping these few lines will find you all well as through the goodness of God it leaves me at present, I would inform you that I arrived here last night and have made all the inquiries after Samuel that I have had opportunity for but cannot hear where he is. The last account was that last Saturday he was sick and in the hospital in the city of New York and came that day from the hospital up to the regiment but being weak could not travel and several of the company told me there were carriages provided to carry the sick over to the Jersey side among which was Sergeant Jesse Larned who is since dead, Samuel Dike, Amos Green and many others. I hope to hear soon from him, and see him for they tell me he is much discouraged but thought he was getting better.
There has been a sore battle at York. The Regulars landed on the island of York, both on the North and East Rivers on Sabbath day, and our men were obliged to retreat with all possi- ble speed, but notwithstanding many were killed and taken. Capt. Stephen Crosby being over hot went into a house and drinked cold water and died immediately. Lieut. Buck is either killed or taken prisoner and several more Killingly men. On Monday it is reported our men got the better ; killed and took
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great numbers of the Regulars and Hessians. Col. Williams' regiment is ordered off to the Jersey side and we expect to go from here to-day. It is very sickly here among the militia. William Smith and Ebenezer Nichols we left behind. Solomon Smith and John Barrett must stop here or return back. The Lord be merciful to us all for we have got where the inhabitants show no pity. I beg your prayers for me that I may be pre- served from sin, sickness and the sword and be soon returned to my family and friends whom I am greatly concerned for. I would have written a few lines to my wife but have not time. Now, I hope she will not take it hard. I desire to be remembered to her and all my friends. Tell my little children I long to see them but when I shall I cannot tell. It is all confusion here.
Your dutiful son, THOMAS DIKE."
Still more distressing pictures were given by Oliver Grosvenor, Commissary of Eleventh Regiment, in letters to his wife :
"The sick daily increases in numbers : some companies not more than two or three in their returns fit for duty : the rest sick and taking care of the sick. . . . It is not in my power to paint you the doleful scenes I behold every hour : neither did I believe that rational creatures could be divested of that humanity that I find they are subject to in the camps, where sickness and sin so mnch prevail. Alas for our land which now mourns beneath the horrors and distresses of our present war. . . . Six of our regi- ment have died since the day before yesterday and now there are a number I expect to hear are dead in the morning. Oct. 3, 1776."
The irregularity of communication enhanced dis- tress and anxiety. In the longer or shorter interval 10*
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between these chance letters imagination painted even greater losses and horrors. Yet the true reality was beyond expression. Scores of men who had gone out full of life and spirits, blotted out of sight never to be seen again by friend or kindred. Some were in the flush of youth and hope. Some left young brides ; others the burdened wife with family of little children. It is well perhaps that we cannot look in upon these bereaved homes. Knowlton's, with its eight children ; Capt. Crosby's with six, and in both instances a child born after the decease of its father. This captain of ours was, like Capt. Elliott, a man of sterling char- acter, who had represented the town at the General Court in 1775. His little son Stephen, not four years old, remembered through life his opening the gate for his father as he rode out for the last time, and his "God bless you, my son," as he stooped from his saddle. And there were many more equally dear and precious buried where they fell in New York and Jersey. No sending home of loved remains.
" "Tis little, but it looks in truth As if the quiet bones were blest Amid familiar scenes to rest, And in the places of its youth."
But even this small consolation was denied the Revolutionary soldier, and even in many cases a stone to mark his burial place. Even when he died at
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home the memorial stone was withheld or long de- layed. The poverty of the times is shown by this omission. The widow with her little ones, the aged parents deprived of their strong sons, could not afford the cost. But their memory was tenderly cherished, and years after their decease their names were in- scribed on the stones in the old burying ground that marked the graves of wife or parent. It is remark- able to find so many of these delayed inscriptions in our own Thompson ground. The names of Captains Elliott and Crosby appear on the grave-stones with their widows, who had survived them nearly forty years. The names of two and even three sons dying in New York and New Jersey are carved below those of aged parents. But the resting place of those who died in camp or fell in battle was seldom known to their friends.
Those were indeed dark days alike in Jersey camp and Windham County farm-house. The soldier in camp and hospital was burdened with anxieties for those at home. Heavy, indeed, were the cares of those wives and mothers. Young lads were called upon to bear the brunt of autumn work and house- hold provision. One little lad in Thompson, only six years old, remembered vividly through life his trials in going after the cows those November twilights, his bare feet entangling in the briars, his little summer suit of towcloth so tattered that he could hardly
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hold it together as he stumbled about the rocky pasture.
But the darkest day has gleams of light. Amid the anxieties and distress of this terrible autumn came the most ludicrous episode of the war; a farce between the acts of a sombre tragedy. Yet, to the actors it was a most real experience and illustrates one of the most trying features of the situation-iso- lation from the seat of war and difficulty of obtain- ing accurate information. It occurred in the vicinity of the Great Elm, in what was called the "South Neighborhood" of Thompson Parish, after the last call for militia. The army had been driven from New York ; British fleets were in the Sound threat- ening New London and Providence ; affairs were in the greatest confusion and rumors flew thick from every quarter. New London and Providence were burned; Connecticut was invaded; the victorious British might be expected to sweep through the State at any moment. Besides these general dan- gers this section was haunted by a special bugbear.
Right down in Brooklyn the Tory and churchman, Malbone, owned a gang of negro slaves, and just north of Thompson there was a remnant of " Paygan Injins " occupying a reservation. Combustible mate- rial was kept piled up on conspicuous hills for signal warning in case of attack, and a kettle of tar was suspended from the cross-bar of the Liberty pole on
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Killingly Hill, for the same purpose. A single spark of rumor lighted all these combustibles. A post galloped through town without stopping to commu- nicate news, and a saucy boy on Dudley Hill had his ears boxed by a suspected Tory. Quick through the town flew the report of immediate onset.
"The Tor-ies are coming ! The Tor-ies are com- ing," was the awe-struck cry, and when it reached the elin tree the tale was magnified by the addition of "Malbone Niggers " and "Paygan Injins " burn- ing and slaughtering everything before them. What a terrible prospeet ! There was not an able-bodied man in the corner. Nothing but women and chil- dren, old-folks and invalids. Panic, dire, unreason- ing, frenzied panic took possession. All manner of ridiculous things were said and done. Concealment and flight seemed the only course of action. And so the neighbors, old and young, rushed together and started off pell-mell for a bushy swamp. One woman staid behind-the heroine of the day. I am always glad to relate the prowess of my much re- spected grandmother-Rebekah (Wilkinson) Larned -a worthy daughter of Liberty and Rhode Island. She was not the woman to desert her husband's prop- erty, or quail before Malbone and his negroes. Three young children and her husband's aged grandmother were in her care. Piling wood upon the ample fire- place, every iron implement that could be mustered
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was thrust into the blazing coals, and from every hook on the crane a kettle of water was suspended, and had the foe appeared he would have met a hot reception from fire and tongue. In vain did the fu- gitives send beseeching pleas. "Tell Becky," they whimpered, " hot irons will never do for the British." In vain did they urge the aged grandmother-the widow of Justice Joseph Leavens-to share their flight. Her faith surpassed her fears, and sinking back into her chimney corner she meekly murmured -" If I am to be killed by the Tor-ies to-night why then I shall be, so I'll een stay with Becky."
But Tory and negro alike failed to materialize. The great alarm proved a mere fizzle, but coming as it did on those anxious days, it served a most admir- able purpose. All the ridiculous sayings and doings of the terrified were remembered and reproduced with the vividness of instantaneous photograph. We see Sam. Cheese ramming down bullets into his mus- ket without any powder ; and poor, old, palsied Capt. Merriam, with pitchfork quivering in his hands, as he tried to guard and hold the house door. We catch the sly gleam in the eye of the bedridden granny, forgotten and left behind in the flurry, who had man- aged to crawl out of bed and stow herself away in a cupboard. We hear the plaintive voice of poor old hobbling Uncle Asa on his way to the swamp- " Thithter, thithter, I've forgot my thin plathter,"
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and the sister's brusque rejoinder, " Come along, Asa, you'll never dress your shins again in this world," while Aunt Nabby voiced the general desire in her heartfelt ejaculation-"I'd give a wedge of goold as big as my foot for one good drum." It is truly re- freshing to learn that these much tried sufferers had so legitimate a cause for merriment, even if it is a little hard on the panic-stricken subjects.
Probably the scarcity of Tories in Windham County invested them with abnormal terror. In other parts of the State they were sufficiently obvious, but here they were too few to assert themselves. Poor Col. Fitch, now deprived of his official position, sat soli- tary in his suspected mansion, barely supplied with the every day necessities of life. Dr. Walton, of Killingly, a bitter Tory, who once presumed to hide a wounded British officer in his house, dared not open his mouth. Hannah Miller, fleeing from Boston "as from a nest of hornets to the happy and peaceful town of Pomfret," with a hogshead of ruin and tierce of coffee for subsistence, was obliged to give proof of her loyalty to the patriot cause before she could settle down to the consumption of her rum and coffee. Col. Malbone, chevalier and churchman, with his " church parson and gang of negro slaves," felt con- strained to observe extreme quiet, and restrict church service and prayers for the king to his private resi- dence. The saddest home in Windham County was
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that of Nathan Frink, Pomfret's dashing young lawyer and excise officer, who, after attempting to act with the patriots, turned squarely against them and entered the British army. His aged parents went down unto the grave mourning, and a large circle of relatives was overwhelmed with grief and mortifica- tion. The August of 1777 brought grief to many hearts in the death of Woodstock's beloved pastor, Rev. Abiel Leonard, D. D. Mr. Leonard had won much favor among his own people and the churches of the county before his acceptance of the chaplaincy of Putnam's regiment. Here he achieved still greater popularity, his eloquent and patriotic discourses ex- citing much admiration. He may be said to have been the father of "Army Literature "-"a prayer composed for the benefit of the soldiers in the Ameri- can army to assist them in their private devotions," and printed in a tract of nine pages, is noted as the first attempt in this line. Washington's letter to the Woodstock church may well be forever associated with the memory of this honored pastor, viz. :
" To the Church and Congregation at Woodstock :
Mr. Leonard is a man whose exemplary life and conversation must make him highly esteemed by every person who has the pleasure of being acquainted with him. It therefore can be no surprise to us to hear they are loth to part with him His iu- fluence in the army is great. He is employed in the glorious work of attending to the morals of a brave people who are fight.
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ing for their liberties-the liberties of the people of Woodstock -the liberty of all America. We therefore hope that, knowing how nobly he is employed, the congregation of Woodstock will cheerfully give up to the public a gentleman so very useful. And when, by the blessing of a kind Providence, this glorious and unparalleled struggle for our liberties is at an end, we have not the least doubt but Mr. Leonard will, with redoubled joy, be received in the open arms of a congregation so very dear to him as the good people of Woodstock are.
This is what is hoped for-this is what is expected, by the congregation of Woodstock's sincere well wishers and very humble servants,
GEORGE WASHINGTON, ISRAEL PUTNAM
Head Quarters, Cambridge, ¿ 24th of March, 1776."
Washington's kind hope for the happy return of the beloved pastor to his flock at the close of the war was not destined for fulfillment, and the circum- stances attending his death left a cloud upon his memory. Dying at Danbury, on his way home from the army, from wounds received by his own hand, the real facts were not ascertained by his friends. The story as handed down in Woodstock, upon what seemed creditable authority, represented him as hav- ing overstaid a furlough, on account of the serious ill- ness of his child-and that on his way back to camp he was met by the tidings that he had been censured and dismissed from his position. Keenly sensitive to public opinion he could not endure this disgrace,
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and attempted suicide. A letter recently come to light, from Dea. Jedidiah Morse-the honored father of an illustrious house-gives the true facts and complete vindication. It was addressed to President Wheelock, Dartmouth College, immediately after the tidings of his decease had reached them, 18 Aug. 1777. He gives "a short, exact, but very melancholy account of the death of his dear minister;" of his being "as much set by in the army by Gen. Wash- ington and other officers " as any man in the service ; of having a present of three hundred dollars made him by Congress for special services, and that after receiving liberty from his people to continue in the army he thought prudent to take the small-pox by inoculation, which detained him sometime and left him in a poor state of health. That he then returned to the army in the Jerseys ; took a tour to Philadel- phia, where he preached before Congress to their great satisfaction ; met with the Presbytery and had the honorary title of Doctor of Divinity conferred upon him. But during this time he was observed " to be melancholy and cast down, and mind and senses greatly disordered." On this Sunday he at- tended public worship, and went to bed apparently as well as usual, but an unusual noise in his chamber aroused the people of the house and they found him in his gore, his throat cut but not dead. He was able in a few days to bear removal to Danbury, but
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the heat of the weather and raging of his wound were too much for him and he passed away August 14th.
Melancholia caused by nervous exhaustion un- doubtedly led to this unhappy act so much misunder- stood even by his own dear people. We have great reason for gratitude to Dea. Morse for leaving us the inmost details of this sad end to a brilliant career- and clearing the character of a devoted and self- sacrificing patriot. In this instance there was no deliberate attempt to blacken character and depreci- ate service as there has been with others. It is bad enough to malign the living in the heat of political controversy, but they have a chance to correct and live down misrepresentation ; but in cold blood to pick to pieces and tear down the reputation of public men who did their best in times of difficulty and danger, is most dastardly and ungrateful. We do not claim perfection for our dead heroes-the best of men are only human. But even indiscriminate hero-worship is better than hero-demolition. The great men who have helped in any way to make our country what it is are our best heritage, and we can- not afford to have them belittled or taken away from us by this spirit of carping criticism.
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