USA > Connecticut > New London County > History of New London county, Connecticut : with biographical sketches of many of its pioneers and prominent men > Part 112
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Their cause was that of a most faithless king, Who knew no law but his own sovereign will, Who scourged the innocent, oppressed the poor, And robbed his people of their chartered rights.
What though their disgraced chief they all despised, They fought to win-his treason was their gain ; His the command, their duty was to serve, And on the ignominious traitor's head Was all the blood that on that day was shed.
The hundred men who rallied on Town Hill, Bleak and unfortified, could not withstand The onset of so much superior force, While Trumbull's little guard trained sharp ite guns Upon the storming-party rushing o'er The dark salt marshes on its western side, Let fly a telling blast of whistling grape, Beneath which stalwart men were seen to fall, Then spiked the pieces, hastened to their boats, And crossed the river under rattling fire To take a stronger and a better hold, To share the perils of the fearless band That in Fort Griswold had resolved to stand.
Then, like a gang of plunderers, the foe Gave up the town to pillage and to flames, Rushing with fire-brands through deserted streets, From house to house, and all along the quay, Until the stores and shipping were ablaze, The lurid smoke npcurling to the sky, -- A direful sight, yet but the opening scene Of the great drama coming on the stage.
That morning to the summit of the Heights, Crowned by the enduring monumental shaft That in its silence is so eloquent, A hundred yeomen of the country-side, Roused from their alumbers by the cannonade, Had come to join the watch, who through the night Their rounds had paced upon the parapets.
They came with such arms as they each possessed, With spontoons by the village blacksmith made,
With heirloom, buccaneer, and hunting-guns, Used by their great-grandsires on Pequot Hill, And in the fight of Narragansett Swamp, Against the savage aborigines ;
Each his cartouch-box, belts, and bayonet-sheath, With bullets moulded on his hearth at home, His flints well picked, his powder-horn well filled, Ilis shoes of cowhide, hat of felt or straw, His towcloth frock and leathern overalle,- The Revolution's home-made uniform,- On which fatiguing watch by night and day, The sweat and grime of work and weather-stains, Ilad rudely wrought its own embroidered arms, As on the escutcheon of their sacred cause,- A lineage patent with heraldic signs More emblematical of glorious deeds Than the devices blazoned on the shield Of the proud house of Hanover.
There they had come, Hastening on foot and horseback, one by one, To meet a thousand veterans of the line, Arrayed in gorgeous trappings and equipt With all the grand accoutrements of war,- Two chosen regiments, for daring famed, The royal Fortieth and the Fifty-fourth, Detailed for the attack on Groton side.
Nor was it long delayed. At mid-forenoon The barges of the fleet camo sweeping in With the invaders upon Eastern Point, Who hurried up the western woody slope Of Shonnecosset Neck, nor called a halt Until they reached the ancient Indian Field And the adjacent bluff of Packer's Rocks, Where martyred Ledyard's ashes now repose.
They did not wait for their field-battery, The last to land, that still was in the rear On a mistaken, rough, and pathless route, But sent a flag of truce with the demand Of prompt surrender unconditional.
Amid the smouldering ruins of their homes The brave defenders were not in a mood To hesitate in their pronounced reply : "Never !" (said they) " We'll try to hold the fort Whate'er may be the fortunes of the day."
Then moved the Fifty-fourth upon the work As skirmishers behind the knolls and rocks, Deploying from the bluff towards the Thames, Crouching and creeping on with trailing arms, Until advantage of the field was gained, When in array of battle they advanced ; While from the vale beyond, where Beaver Dam Crosses the bubbling brook still rippling down Along Dark Hollow to Pequonoc plains, On which High Rock like a grim giant stands, Covered with moss and seamed by glacial scars, As it hath stood through all the centuries, The Fortieth came dashing o'er the hill, Under the thicket of the cedar glade, Captured the little gun of the redoubt, And joined the Fifty-fourth in the assault.
The cannon of the fort were brought to bear At shorter range to check their near approach, And many a gap that opened in their ranks Was quickly filled by well-skilled veterans, While the defenders firmly stood their ground, Picked each his man with an unerring aim, Nor fired until the foemen closely came.
The conflict had begun; the gates were closed; The siege was now complete. Within the fort How truly was it liberty or death, For there was no more aid and no retreat.
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Then raged the storm,
As rages the tornado in its wrath : Their leaders slain, like monsters they became, Jumped in the trenches out of musket-range, And under shelter of the frowning work, Sprang on each other's shoulders up the wall, Wrenched the projecting pickets from the frieze, And with such fury the embankment scaled That their united, overwhelming force, Like a resistless torrent in its course, Our little valiant phalanx could not stay.
When from the ramparts they came leaping down, With bayonets fixed and heavy sabres drawn, Life's crimson currents dripped from gleaming blades, Until our Spartan band was overcome ; Then, marching in close order through the gate, And under orders, firing by platoons Upon their captives, now no longer armed, Coolly shot down surrendered prisoners, Whose bravery had been worthy of their steel,- An act of fell revenge in sight of heaven That no mere martial rules should justify, A barbarous act, by them alone surpassed, For then with bayonets they speared the dead, Slew the severely wounded in their swoon, Brained dying men with beetling musket-stocks, And left them thickly lying on the ground Through that intensely hot and sweltering day, To seethe and sodden in the broiling sun. No friend, no surgeon, no physician there, No one to help the wounded, none to give The simple cup of water that they craved, For which instinctively with their parched lips Exhausted nature cried unconsciously.
There, stript and robbed, the martyred patriots lay Until the sun in a black cloud went down, As if to veil and turn his face away From the red carnage of that awful day.
The darkness of a moonless, starless night Followed the gloaming's pale, expiring light, And where the battle-roar had rent the air Silence prevailed, the silence of despair.
Those still surviving had been borne away To Avery's house, now standing, near the shore, Where their own ministering angels came To raise their drooping heads, bind up their wounds, To whisper love's sweet, sympathetic words, And soothe them with restoratives. But there within the broken battlements Lay eighty-four of the defenders, slain, Just as they fell, in rows and sprawling round. Their forms so much disfigured, cut, and bruised And so discolored by the scorching sun That even dearest friends who knew them best Could not discover their identity.
There fifty widows that the day had made, In hoods and shawls, with flaring torches came, And through their midnight vigils groped about, Wiping the gore from many a mangled face, In quest of those that they so fondly loved. There children, too, with lanterns in their hands, Were, with their mothers, aiding in the search, Hoping to find, and yet afraid to see ; And when a recognition was assured "The piteous wailing of the poor bereaved, Their groans of anguish and heart-rending shrieks, Gave the nocturnal, dark, and ghastly scene, Under the Iurid glare of flickering lights, A semblance of some weird and hideons dream Of dismal regions where the demons dwell.
And there they stayed until the dawn of day, Weeping and wandering round among the slain,
Frantic with grief, and inconsolable ; The only show of mercy still vouchsafed Came through a timely providential hand To quench a match-train kindled by the foe Before he fled ingloriously away With base intent to fire the magazine, Blow up their hecatomb of honored dead, And rob them of the little solace left In sacred burial-rites for their beloved.
In that half-hour of conflict on the Heights, With the great odds of more than five to one, What firm and dauntless courage was displayed, What uuexampled sacrifices made !
No one but he who hath in battle been Knows how a good man feels when first he aims His loaded gun to kill a fellow-man ; So, as Parke Avery stood beside his son, A lad of seventeen summers scarcely past, Inside the breastworks, firing at the foe, Thinking the boy might flinch, he cheering said, " Fear not, my son, but do your duty now." The gallant youth as cheeringly replied, " I'll do my duty, father, have no fears," And fell, with "duty" ringing in his ears.
As Ajax bore Patroclus from the field, The doting father lifted up his son And bore him, lifeless, to the barrack-room, Then, hastening back into the breach again, And with the invader grappling hand to hand, Was himself crushed as by an avalanche, And brained and bayoneted, and left for dead ; But still the veteran lived for twoscore years, And made his annual visits to the spot So sacred to his memory and his tears, Leading his little grandson by the hand, Over the ramparts and the broken walls, And with his staff uplifted pointing out Where his brave boy had fallen by his side, Where two of his own brothers were ent down, Where Latham with his battery held a point Until his cannoneers were shot away, Where the first breach was made, and then Ilow like a deluge was the furious storm, Where was the thickest of the hopeless fight, Where Ledyard, his commander, stood and fell, And how the blood of captive prisoners ran When the atrocious massacre began.
How many aged, venerable sires, Themselves unfit for service on that day, Gave up their children, and did offer them Upon the altar of their native land!
When the two Stanton brothers, side by side, Were laid out, cold, in their old father's house, He asked to see them ere the coffin-lids Should close their forms forever from his eyes, And entering the room, stood at their heads, Bent down and fondly kissed their marble brows, Then looking up beseechingly to heaven, As hot tears trickled down his furrowed cheeks And dript upon his white and fleecy beard, " O God (he cried), how great this sacrifice ! But-but-'tis freely made : thy will be done !"
ยท What an abiding, pure, and living faith ! By Father of the Faithful not surpassed, Who rose, like them, with brightening of the dawn, Without consulting either kith or kin, And took his son up to Moriah's mount For sacrifice by the divine connnand. But here no guardian angel's arm appeared To avert the tatal sacrificial blow : 'Twas done, recorded, and the blessing came In independence and in liberty.
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HISTORY OF NEW LONDON COUNTY, CONNECTICUT.
Fair Freedom, in the pall of battle-smoke, Was hovering o'er the hilltop all that night, As mourners fondly linger round the tombs In which their dear and best-beloved sleep; But when the flag of the young rising States, So rudely torn and trampled in the dust, Was the next morning given to the breeze, She soared away to other battle-fields, And left the scene to valor and to hope.
Oh tell me not the " tale of Troy divine" In Irumpet strains of gladiatorial fame, Of battles lost and won in classic lands By servile forces with ambitious chiefs, Impelled by thirst for power and love of gold, Trusting in mythic heathen deities, But tell me of a people, all as one, United in defense of fatherland, With fortunes, lives, and sacred honor pledged To stand or fall together in their canse,- Patient, enduring, and heroic men Of deep convictions, of sincero belief, Unfailing headspring of life's purest streams, Belief in God, themselves, and in mankind, That truth and justice would nt last prevail, Whose lion hearts found utterance in their deeds Of noble daring to maintain the right Regardless of eventualities,
Who fought through years of desolating war, Never discouraged, always undismayed, Until the foreign despot left their shores And their desires became their history.
These are such men as constitute the State, Theirs was the sacrifice we celebrate.
CENTENNIAL ANTIIEM.
Up with the brave old tlag on high And let it float along the sky, Salute its stars and streams of light that beam on all below, As we, with offerings divine, Bow like the pilgrim at his shrine,
Where our forefathers lought and bled a hundred years ago.
All honor to the gallant few Whose locks were glistening with the dew
Of that September morning, in the dayspring's early glow, When, hastening from beloved ones, Responsive to the signal-guns,
To fight for home and country here a hundred years ago.
Sing praises to that noble band Who died to save their native land,
Who faltered not when face to face with the invading foe, Who stood like martyrs in the fight, Through hope forlorn and for the right, And fell as heroes love to fall, a hundred years ago.
Let our united voices rise To celebrate their sacrifice,
Let clarion strains of gratitude in choral numbers flow, Till from the summit of these hills, Resounding o'er the vales and rills, Shall echo our memorial of a hundred years ago.
Alfred N. Ramsdell was born in Mansfield, Conn., May 12, 1819. His father, Isaiah, was a native of New Hampshire, a farmer, and one of a numerous family. He possessed a great amount of character "and ability, and the Ramsdell family, in its entirety, was quite prominent in that State. He moved to Mansfield in early life, and became a representative farmer, much respected by his fellow-townsmen. He had only moderate means, and his sons, as they grew up, became scattered, and were generally successful. Albert left home when about sixteen, came to New
London, entered the employ of a shoe-house, probably that of an elder brother, and continued as clerk and partner for about six or seven years. He then became identified with banking and railroad business, and continued largely interested therein until his death, May 10, 1873. He was a man of wonderful capacity for business, of great intuition, developing his plans with lightning-like rapidity, and uniformly with sue- cess. He was a natural financier, and became presi- dent of the New London City Bank, and his name was a synonym for ability and highest financial stand- ing. As president of the New London Northern Railroad Company, he exhibited great tact and busi- ness ability. Taking the management at a time of great embarrassment, the stock selling at a mere nominal price, considered by many as worthless, he made it one of the best investment securities, selling at twenty-five per cent. premium. His large means were never withheld from any local enterprises which were calculated to promote the interests of the com- munity in which he lived, and his private charities, although, unostentatious, were commensurate with his fortune.
In the following resolutions, adopted by the board of directors of the New London Northern Railroad, we have a fine testimonial to the character of Mr. Ramsdell and the appreciation of his nature by his most intimate associates, than whom none could bet- ter or more accurately judge him :
" Resolred, That this board has heard with the greatest sorrow of the death of Albert N. Ramsdell, who has been for more than seven years the president of this company.
"To his masterly management of its affairs this corporation mainly owes its past success and its present prosperity. It has lost ils firmest supporter, its wisest counselor, and its ablest advocate. Ilis kindness of heart, his fine sense of honor, his clear and ready judgment, and his un- swerving loyalty to his convictions gained him the perfect confidence and esteem of all his associates.
"In deep grief at his death we offer to his family our warmest sympa- thy and condolence.
" Resolved, That, out of respect to his memory, the board will attend his funeral, and that the secretary be instructed to enter these resolu- tions upon the records of the company, and to transmit a copy of them to Mrs. Ramsdell."
Mr. Ramsdell was twice married,-first, to Caroline A., daughter of Capt. Alfred and Jeannette (Mitchell) White; she died in 1846 ; second, to Mary J., daughter of Latham and Betsey W. (Lester) Avery, of Groton.
Col. H. D. Morgan .- James Morgan, the first set- tler of New London, Conn., bearing the name borne by so many of his descendants, was born in Wales in 1607. In March, 1636, he and two younger brothers emigrated to America, and arrived at Boston in April following. Wherever he settled at first, he was at Roxbury, near Boston, before 1640. He mar- ried there Margery Hill, of Roxbury, and was made a freeman May 10, 1643. He was a freeholder there as late as 1650 ; the same year he removed to Pequot, now New London, Conn., and was assigned a house- lot. The lands were granted to him, according to New London records, and occupied by him as a homestead, and the further entry that " James Morgan hath given
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him about six acres of upland, where the wigwams were, in the path that goes from his house towards Culver's, among the rocky hills." These lands were sterile and dreary, in what is now the western suburbs of the city of New London. James continued resi- dent "on the path to New Street," or "Cape Ann Lane," till on Dec. 25, 1656, he sold his homestead, and shortly after removed, with several others, across the Thames, upon large tracts of land previously granted them by the town, in what is now the south part of Groton. The spot where he first built in Groton, and where he lived and died (in 1685, aged seventy-eight), is about three miles from Groton Ferry, on the road to Pequonnock Bridge, and has never been out of the possession of his lineal descend- ants, and nearly always occupied by a " James."
James was a large proprietor and dealer in lands, distinguished in public enterprise, often employed in land surveys, establishing public highways, determin- ing boundaries; as a magistrate adjusting civil diffi- culties, as a Christian man and good neighbor, enjoy- ing to a marked degree the confidence and trust of the people. He was one of the " townsmen" or selectmen of New London for several years; was one of the first " deputys" sent from New London plantations to the May session of the General Court at Hartford, 1657, and was nine times afterwards chosen a member of that grave and important assembly. As an evidence of his sterling integrity and the estimation in which he was held by his compeers, we would state that in a controversy between the General Court and the New London plantations about boundaries and jurisdiction it was ordered that the matter be submitted to three arbiters, mutually agreed upon. New London named James Morgan, their own townsman, and in their own interests, but the General Court promptly accepted him, agreeing to submit to his sole decision, which, when made, was satisfactory to all. He was an active and useful member of the church, and he was promi- nent in every important movement. In 1662 his list on the town assessment stands third highest. It was only two hundred and fifty pounds, but this was a large estate in those days, for out of the one hundred tax-payers of that year only seven had a list exceed- ing two hundred pounds. Such a man his descend- ants do worthily esteem and venerate. His sterling qualities of mind and honesty of purpose have been shown on many occasions by his descendants, and throughout the broad land the bearers of the " Mor- gan" name are worthy members of society, occupying positions which reflect credit on the unbending in- tegrity of their progenitor.
The following "Invocation," prefixed by N. H. Morgan, Jan. 1, 1869, to his "Morgan Genealogy," is well worthy presentation here: "Kinsmen of the name, you I invoke! To you I now make an ap- peal. Hear me for my cause. On the spot where our first American ancestor reared his humble abode, in the ancient land of the Pequots, now the town of
Groton, and where an unbroken succession of his line, each bearing his own honored name of James Morgan, have continued to dwell, even unto this generation, there, on that hallowed spot, repose the ashes, not only of himself and of his good wife Margery, but also of his children and grandchildren, the patriarchs and mothers of us all. Time has wellnigh obliter- ated from the little, rude, and crumbling headstones the name, the date, and the story ; but by the flicker- ing light of tradition, of old records, and of broken inscriptions, I have been enabled recently, amid the tangled thorns which enshroud them, to trace out and identify every grave. Now is the day and we are the men to mark more suitably this their last resting- place, and thus save from oblivion the story and the memory of this hallowed ground. Ours is the privi- lege and ours the duty to consecrate anew this an- cient necropolis of our family, by erecting thereon to the remembrance of these our sires and mothers a fitting and enduring monument worthy of them and worthy of ourselves. Shall this be done? Have we the motive? These mouldering graves appeal with silent eloquence to the living, -- ' E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries !' Have we the means? Our family is conspicuously marked for its wealth. Have we the wish, the filial desire to preserve and venerate the memory of this sacred ground ? Let a monument be the answer, and let me read it ere I go hence."
James2, born March 3, 1644, married, first, Mary Vine, of Old England, November, 1666; second, Hannah -, and died Dec. 8, 1711, aged sixty- eight. He was one of the two first deacons of the first church in Groton, was the principal magistrate, and at the first town-meeting after the incorporation of the town was moderator, and chosen first townsman or selectman. He was chosen captain of the first " train-band" in Groton in 1692, and had then been two years a captain and commander of the dragoon force of New London County, under special commis- sion from the General Court. He was deputy to the General Court from New London from 1689 to 1700, and one of the first deputies from the new town of Groton in 1706, and was for several years a commis- sioner to advise and direct the Pequot Indians in the management of their affairs. His children were all by his first wife, and he lived and died in the home in Groton, already described. His oldest son, Deacon James3, born Feb. 6, 1667, lived on the same home- stead in South Groton as his father and grandfather, and was twice married, having four children by his first wife. He was an active and useful man in all church and civil affairs, drafting and taking acknowl- edgments of deeds, wills, and other legal instruments as the principal and almost sole acting magistrate, and until a short period before his death his name appears generally as moderator in all town and so- ciety meetings. He died May 4, 1748, aged eighty- one. His children were James4, Daniel, Mary, and Anna. Anna married Rev. John Owen, the second
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HISTORY OF NEW LONDON COUNTY, CONNECTICUT.
minister of Groton. James+ was born in 1693, and was the fourth lineal occupant of the same name of the homestead. He was twice married, having seven children by his second wife, Mary, daughter of Capt. John Morgan. He died Aug. 25, 1770, aged seventy- seven years, and is buried, with his wives, in the family burial-ground near the old home. James5, his oldest child, born 1730, lived and died on the old place. He married Catharine Street, 1758. They had seven children,-James6, Nicholas, Moses, Daniel, May, Fanny, and Catharine. He married Mrs. Lydia Miner, April 28, 1779, and had two children, Lydia and Jerusha. Daniel, born March 3, 1765, settled in Groton, and married Jemima Gallup, who had one child, which died in infancy. She died March 25, 1800. He married for his second wife, Priscilla, daughter of Capt. D. H. Burrows, who was killed in Fort Griswold at the massacre of 1781. He was a native of Groton, married Sarah Avery, also of an old Groton family. He was in the prime of life when he was shot, the first victim of the British at the mas- sacre. Daniel Morgan was a farmer ; never aspired to political distinction, but was a plain, hardworking, economical man ; Democratie in politics, an attend- ant of the Congregational Church, and much re- spected by all. He died Jan. 21, 1838, aged seventy- three, leaving five children by his second wife,-Pris- cilla, Hubbard D., Sarah A., Mary Ann, and Moses E.
Hubbard Daniel Morgan was born in Groton, Conn., May 12, 1804. He remained at work with his father until he became about seventeen or eighteen years of age, when he was made lame by something resembling a fever-sore, and in consequence thereof he went to New London and learned the shoemaker's trade. His opportunities for early education were only those afforded by the common school at " North Lane," and it is surely worthy of credit that the spirit of diligence and perseverance which has character- ized him through life should have been manifested in the independence that would give him, although a lame youth, a livelihood by his own exertions through his labors even in the trade of a shoemaker. After learning his trade, Mr. Morgan went to Springport, N. Y., where his sister Priscilla (Mrs. Jabez D. Haley) resided, and followed his trade for one year. He then returned to Connecticut, when his father ex- changed his farm in Groton for one in East Haddam, for the purpose of retaining Hubbard with him. When the exchange was made Hubbard Daniel was about twenty-one. He remained with his father, dili- gently applying himself to keep the family together, and by great toil, as he expresses it, "just making strap and buckle meet," and continued thus occupied for about twelve years, when a younger brother be- came large enough to take his turn in charge of the farm. Mr. Morgan, feeling the necessity of more means than his circumstances had hitherto given him, left the farm without a dollar, and engaged in the wood and lumber business with Elias Loomis, his
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