USA > Connecticut > The history of Connecticut, from its earliest settlement to the present time. Ed. by W. H. Carpenter and T. S. Arthur > Part 13
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At the opening of the Revolution, the Con- necticut settlers of Wyoming eagerly embraced the cause of independence. Numbering scarcely twenty-five hundred, they had contributed no less than two full companies to the continentals under Washington. For the defence of the valley, in the spring of 1778, when already the · settlers' "pathways were ambushed, and mid- night was often red with the conflagrations of their dwellings," there remained only a few militia, and a newly-enlisted company of conti- nentals, all poorly provided with arms and am- munition. These troops, about five hundred in number, not only garrisoned six or seven rude
223
MASSACRE OF WYOMING.
1778.]
stockades, dignified by the name of forts, but tilled the fields, and acted as scouts for the alarmed settlements.
Such was the condition of Wyoming when, on the 2d of July, Colonel John Butler, at the head of eleven hundred Seneca Indians and Tory rangers, entered the valley, took quiet posses- sion of Wintermoot, its uppermost fort. Hastily assembling at Forty Fort, some two miles above Wilkesbarre, the settlers marched out, four hun- dred strong, to give the invaders battle. In the afternoon of July the 3d, the two forces met. Fighting bravely and well, the little band of Connecticut men at first hoped for victory. But, pressed by overwhelming numbers, they were at length thrown into inextricable confusion. The flight that ensued changed to a fearful scene of slaughter. Many of the fugitives fell at once beneath the murderous tomahawk; many were taken captive, and at nightfall put to death with horrible torments ; a few escaped to Fort Wyoming, already crowded with terrified women and children.
The following morning this last defence of the colony was invested. No terms would at first be listened to by the enemy but the unconditional surrender to the savages of fifteen continentals, who had survived the slaughter of the evening before. That night, however, these fifteen effected their escape down the river ; whereupon Butler
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HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT.
[1778.
consented to receive the surrender of the fort on favourable terms, stipulating that the settlers should be secured in the possession of their lives and property. This stipulation he seems to have been desirous of fulfilling ; but his Indian allies, incited by a few Tory renegades from the valley, at once spread themselves through the settle- ment, burned the houses, desolated the fields, and murdered every inhabitant that ventured to resist. The wretched remnant of the settlers, mostly women and children, fled eighty miles through the dismal mountain wilderness to Stroudsburg, the nearest military station. In one of the frightened, half-famished flocks that on this occasion crossed the Swamp of Pokono- or the "Shades of Death," as it has ever since been called-there were no less than a hundred women and children, with but one man for their guide and protector.
Though Wyoming was presently reoccupied by a considerable continental force, it was long be- fore it recovered entirely from the effects of an invasion in which nearly three hundred of its male inhabitants perished within a few days. Nor were the barbarities of the invaders soon forgot- ten. Exaggerated as they undoubtedly were by the panic-stricken survivors of the " massacre," they were still horrible enough, and at once ex- cited for the colonists the profound sympathies of a growing party in England, and aroused the
225
CLOSE OF CAMPAIGN.
1778.]
stern and determined indignation of the Ameri- can people.
Two days subsequent to the attack on Fort Wyoming, the Count D'Estaing arrived off the Delaware with a French fleet, having on board four thousand troops. Desirous of deriving some advantage from this opportune arrival, Wash- ington planned, conjointly with the French com- mander, an assault upon New York. Compelled to abandon' this project, he then determined to attempt the reduction of Newport, in Rhode Island, which had been held by the British for more than a year. General Sullivan, with five thousand continentals, and an equal number of Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts militia, was ordered to co-operate with D'Estaing on this service; but the latter, being led away by the hope of engaging the English fleet, Sul- livan was compelled to forego all the advantages he had gained, abandon his position before Newport, and retreat precipitately from the island.
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In the mean time D'Estaing had been foiled in his attempt to engage the English squadron, and, with many vessels seriously damaged by a furious tempest, was forced to take shelter in Boston harbour.
With the failure of this project the northern campaign virtually closed. After a series of unimportant skirmishes, the American army was
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HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT.
[1778.
quartered for the winter in a line of cantonments extending from Elizabethtown, in New Jersey, to Danbury, in Connecticut.
During the winter, the troops at Danbury, composed chiefly of two Connecticut brigades under Putnam, were led, by their sufferings for the want of many necessaries, to enter into an agreement to proceed in a body to Hartford, and demand immediate relief from the assembly then in session. The mutiny was already ripe, and one brigade under arms, preparatory to march- ing off, when Putnam received the first intima- tion of it. Hurriedly mounting his horse, he galloped to where the men were drawn up, under the command of their sergeants. Received with the usual military salute of presented arms, Put- nam, riding along the line, thus addressed the revolters briefly, and with the plain frankness of a farmer-soldier :-
" My brave lads, where are you going ? Do you intend to desert your officers, and invite the enemy into the country ? In whose cause have you been fighting and suffering so long? Is it not your own ? Have you no property-no pa- rents-no wives-no children ? So far you have behaved like men. All the world is full of your praises. Posterity will stand astonished at your deeds ; but'not if you spoil all at last. Let us stand by one another then, and fight it out like brave soldiers. Think what a shame it would
227
FEAT OF PUTNAM.
1779.]
be for Connecticut men to run away from their officers."
Remaining perfectly silent, the troops imme- diately, at the word, shouldered arms, marched to their respective parades, stacked their mus- kets, and returned cheerfully to their customary duties.
A short time after this affair, on the 25th of February, 1779, a considerable body of the enemy, under General Tryon, sallied out of New York, to surprise the American troops at Horse- neck, and destroy the saltworks there. Inform- ed of Tryon's approach, Putnam, who happened to be in the neighbourhood, procured a few old field-pieces, and, with sixty men, prepared to give the invaders a warm reception. After a brief but spirited conflict, Putnam saw that Tryon's numerical superiority would soon enable him to outflank the position of the patriots, and gain a deep ravine in the rear. Following the directions of their leader, the little band effected a safe retreat to a hill beyond the enemy's reach. Putnam himself galloped off toward Stamford, to procure fresh troops. He was pursued ; the road in advance of him was in the possession of the British.' Seizing the only chance of escape that offered, Putnam spurred his horse to the edge of the ravine that had pro- tected his rear, and dashed boldly down the steep and rugged descent. Pressing him close,
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HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT.
[1779,
his astonished pursuers, reined up with strong hands as they reached the brink of the preci- pice, and there watched the gray-haired fugitive accomplish his hazardous ride in safety. None dared to follow. Before they could gain the valley by an easier route, Putnam was far on his way to Stamford. At that place he found a few militia assembled. Adding these to his former band, he started off in pursuit of the now re- treating Tryon ; and, though his force was still greatly inferior to that of the enemy, he cap- tured two of their wagons, and took fifty of the party prisoners.
Meanwhile, the British had been carrying on a vigorous campaign in the south. Savannah, and with it the greater part of Georgia, had already fallen into their hands.
Northward, Sir Henry Clinton opened the season of warlike operations in person, by as- cending the Hudson and capturing the American forts at Verplank's and Stony Point. Upon the loss of these important works, Washington with- drew to the fastnesses of the Highlands ; to in- duce him to leave which, Clinton, early in July, despatched a plundering expedition under Tryon against Connecticut.
Appearing off New Haven harbour, about sun- rise of July 5th, Tryon immediately landed three thousand men. But though while disembarking the British met with no opposition, their march
229
BURNING OF EAIRFIELD.
1779.]
to the town was sternly resisted by the few mi- litia that hastily assembled. This resistance, however, they speedily overthrew. The town once in their possession, they burned a number of private edifices, and wantonly destroyed much valuable property, in addition to that which they afterward carried away.
But these were not the most culpable of their outrages. Several of the unresisting inhabitants -one an old and helpless man-were murdered in cold blood. A wretched lunatic, having been first severely beaten, had his tongue cut out, and was finally put to death. The intercession of a Tory, formerly his pupil, alone saved the Rev. Dr. Dagget, the President of Yale College, from being slain. He, however, had been captured fighting in the ranks of the militia. On being asked whether, if set at liberty, he would again take up arms, the patriotic clergyman naively replied, "I rather believe I shall, if I have an opportunity." After having insulted, beaten, and finally stabbed him, though not dangerously, his brutal captors were persuaded to let him go.
The militia beginning to assemble, Tryon re- embarked his troops, and set sail for Fairfield. On the morning of the 8th he landed at Ken- sie's Point, not unopposed by the neighbouring farmers and fishermen, and presently entered the almost deserted town. Many females, among others the amiable and refined wife of Sheriff · 20
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HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT. [1779.
Burr, endeavoured to prevail upon Tryon to save the town from the ravages of his Hessians and Tory followers. But their appeals were urged in vain. Having plundered the inhabit- ants of a large amount of property, the British set the village in flames, and hastened to their shipping. Of one hundred and seventy-three buildings, including two churches, and eighty- five dwelling-houses, they left nothing but the blackened and smoking ruins.
Norwalk was the next point assailed by the marauders. Landing on the coast at no great distance from that town, Tryon was met and momentarily checked by a small body of conti- ; nentals and militia, commanded by Captain Stephen Betts. Putting this little band to speedy flight, he entered Norwalk without further oppo- sition. Having first been plundered, this thriv- ing village shared the fate of Fairfield. Six houses only escaped. Among the buildings de- stroyed were two churches.
Acknowledging a loss in these incursions of twenty killed, ninety-six wounded, and thirty- two missing, Tryon sailed to Sag Harbour, on Long Island. Here he was preparing for a descent on New London, when recalled to New York by the unexpected intelligence that Wayne had stormed and carried the lately-captured fortress of Stony Point.
While these events were transpiring, a formid-
231
SULLIVAN'S EXPEDITION.
1779.]
able expedition had been set on foot against the Senecas and other Indian tribes of New York in alliance with the English, to avenge upon them the barbarities they had committed during the previous summer, in their attacks on Wyo- ming and other frontier settlements. Leaving Tioga on the 26th of August, under the com- mand of General Sullivan, the expedition burned the Indian towns on the Chemung, defeated a large force of Tories and savages under Butler and Brant, laid waste the valley of the Gen- nessee, and finally compelling the offending tribes, together with the refugees they had sheltered, to seek a place of safety and of suc- cour from absolute want in the immediate vicinity of the English post at Niagara. The punish- ment thus inflicted on the savages was a severe one, and they never wholly recovered from the effects of it.
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HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT. -
[1780.
CHAPTER XVIII. 1
Campaign of 1780-South Carolina invaded-Fall of Charles- ton-Defeat of Gates-Gloomy aspect of affairs-Arnold at Philadelphia-His quarrel with the Pennsylvania authorities -Tried by court-martial-Sentenced to a reprimand from the commander-in-chief-Washington's reprimand-Mortifi- cation of Arnold-His extravagance-Its result-Treason of Arnold-Execution of André-Arnold in Virginia- Campaign of 1781-Greene in South Carolina-Cornwallis concentrates his troops at Yorktown-Arnold's attack on New London-Massacre of the garrison of Fort Griswold- New London burned-Surrender of Cornwallis-Subse- quent life of Arnold-His death at London.
ABANDONING Newport and the forts on the Hudson, the British gave up all present hope of subjugating the northern colonies. Leaving Knyphausen in command at New York, Sir Henry Clinton sailed with seven thousand troops to invade South Carolina. On the 7th of April, 1780, he appeared before Charleston, the gar- rison of which, after gallantly sustaining a siege of more than a month's duration, reluctantly surrendered as prisoners of war. By the middle of June, all South Carolina was in the possession of the British. Leaving Cornwallis to maintain and enlarge his conquest, Clinton presently re- turned to New York.
To recapture this important province, Gates
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ARNOLD IN PHILADELPHIA.
1780.]
was immediately despatched southward with a large army ; but, met by Cornwallis on the 16th of August, at Camden, he suffered a most disas- trous defeat.
At the north, the aspect of affairs afforded scarcely any ground for cheerful hope. Frus- trated in various attempts to co-operate with a French fleet and army which arrived at Newport early in July, Washington could not contemplate the condition of things without a feeling of anxiety verging upon alarm. Adding still more to his grief at the gloomy prospect of his country, there now came to light a traitorous and dan- gerous plot, planned, and wellnigh executed, by an officer upon whom, notwithstanding his evi- dent lack of moral principle, the commander-in- chief strongly relied, as being second to few in the army for personal bravery, military skill, and the brilliancy and worth of his previous services.
Shortly after the evacuation of Philadelphia by Clinton, Arnold, whose wounds disqualified him for active service, was placed in command at that city. Here he soon entangled himself in a quarrel with the governor and council of Pennsylvania, who publicly censured his conduct as being "in many respects oppressive, unworthy of his rank and station, discouraging to those who had manifested an attachment to the liber- ties of America, and disrespectful to the state."
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HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT. [1780.
Finally, after a series of disputes, Arnold was summoned before a court-martial, to answer four several charges, partly of a criminal nature, preferred by the civil authorities of Pennsyl- vania. His defence was artful and elaborate, though somewhat vainglorious in its tone. With sentiments of the most ardent patriotism it was full to redundancy; and none who heard it could have supposed that its author had been for eight months in secret correspondence with the enemy. But with all its injudicious boasting and wordy patriotism, the defence of Arnold com- pletely disproved the two most serious charges, and he was acquitted of them. Found guilty on the two remaining counts, of irregular, impru- dent, and improper conduct, he was sentenced to be reprimanded by the commander-in-chief. This duty Washington performed with the utmost delicacy. "I reprimand you,"-so he addressed Arnold-" for having forgotten that, in propor- tion as you had rendered yourself formidable to our enemies you should have shown moderation toward our citizens. Exhibit again those splendid qualities which have placed you in the rank of our most distinguished generals. As far as it shall be in my power, I will myself furnish you with opportunities for regaining the esteem which you have formerly enjoyed."
Notwithstanding the soothing terms of this reprimand, Arnold's vanity was deeply wounded,
235
1780.]
ARNOLD'S EMBARRASSMENTS.
and he began to look around for some way to revenge himself. Before he could fix upon any definite plan, circumstances occurred which filled the cup of his mortification to overflowing.
Living at Philadelphia in an extravagant style, utterly beyond his means, Arnold had in- volved himself in debt and difficulties, from which he struggled to extricate himself by en- gaging in commercial and other speculations, not decidedly wrong, perhaps, but in many in- stances depending for their success upon the discreditable arts of the unscrupulous trader. His losses, however, overbalanced his gains. Becoming more and more embarrassed, he re- petitioned Congress to allow his entire claims for moneys expended by him during the Canada expedition. A committee of that body reported that he had been already overpaid.
Disappointed, mortified, and needy, Arnold applied to M. de la Luzerne, the French minis- ter, for a loan, intimating that it would be for the interest of the French king to secure his grateful attachment. Pained to find an officer, whose military qualities he admired, degrading himself so far as to solicit a bribe, Luzerne re- fused to give the money, but proffered his impa- tient listener much excellent advice. Abashed and indignant, Arnold hurried away, fixed in the determination to betray his country. Easily obtaining from Washington the command at
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HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT. [1780.
West Point, he made a direct offer to Clinton, through Major André of the British army, with whom, under an assumed name, he had long cor- responded, to surrender himself and the highly important post intrusted to him, in such a man- ner as would be of great advantage to the cause of Great Britain.
An interview between Arnold and some trust- worthy British agent being necessary to complete the traitorous plot, André reluctantly volunteered to ascend the Hudson for that purpose in the Vul- ture sloop-of-war. Notwithstanding many ob- stacles, the desired interview took place at night in a thick wood on the river shore. Morning broke before the conspirators had arranged their plan of action. André was induced to enter within the American lines, where, concealed during the day, he and Arnold completed their arrangements. Unable to return on board the Vulture, André, provided with a pass and guide by Arnold, assumed a citizen's dress, and at dusk set off on horseback down the river to New York.
The next morning, having parted with his guide, he was stopped, while crossing a small brook half a mile north of Tarrytown, by three volunteer scouts ; deceived by whose replies, instead of producing Arnold's passport, he avow- ed himself to be a British officer, travelling on particular business. Ordered to dismount, André
237
TREASON OF ARNOLD.
1780.]
too late discovered his error, and vainly endea- voured to purchase his liberty. Having stripped him, and found suspicious papers concealed in his stockings, his captors carried him before Colonel Jamison, the American commandant at North Castle. Examining the papers, which contained a full description of West Point and a return of its forces, Jamison recognised the handwriting of Arnold; but having no suspicion of his superior's fidelity, he penned a hasty note to Arnold, informing him of André's capture, and that several papers of a very dangerous ten- dency, found upon his person, had been forward- ed to Washington, then returning to West Point from Hartford.
When Arnold received this letter, he was breakfasting with his family and two aids-de- camp of Washington, who had not yet arrived. What his feelings were on reading it can only be imagined ; for, with the exception of a slight momentary agitation, his deportment was cool and collected. Rising from the table, he pleaded pressing business for leaving so abruptly, ordered his horse to the door, and called his wife up stairs. In a few brief sentences he informed her that they must part, perhaps for ever, and that his life depended on his escape to the enemy. Leaving her in a swoon, he hurriedly mounted his horse, galloped to the river side, sprang into his barge, and ordered the oarsmen to pull with
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HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT. [1780.
all speed down the stream. As they approached King's Ferry, he displayed a white handkerchief, as the signal of a flag-boat, and thus passed the American forts without molestation. The Vul- ture was now in sight, awaiting the return of André. Safe on board this vessel, Arnold de- spatched a letter to Washington, soliciting pro- tection for his wife, who, he wrote, was " as good and as innocent as an angel, and incapable of doing wrong."
For the fate of André, the youthful, ingenuous, and accomplished partner of Arnold in his abor- tive plot, the profoundest pity was expressed, even by those whose cause he sought to ruin. Tried by a court-matial, his own frank relation of the part he took in the recent transaction procured his conviction as a spy ; and, as such, notwithstanding the untiring efforts of Clinton to save him, and the threats of Arnold to avenge his execution with fire and slaughter, he was hanged at Tappan, on the 2d of October.
Rewarded with a gratuity of six thousand pounds and a commission as brigadier-general in the British army, Arnold was despatched in December, with sixteen hundred troops, on a plundering expedition into Virginia. Robberies and conflagrations, and the wanton destruction of private property, everywhere attended his steps. On one occasion an American captain of militia was taken prisoner. Curious to know
239
ARNOLD IN VIRGINIA.
1780.]
the feelings of his countrymen with regard to him, Arnold asked this officer what he thought the Americans would do with him if he should ever be captured by them. "They will cut off the leg," he responded, "which was wounded when you were fighting for the cause of liberty, and bury it with the honours of war, and hang the rest of your body on a gibbet."
After remaining in Virginia nearly four months, during which time several unsuccessful attempts were made to capture him, Arnold returned to New York in April, 1781.
Meanwhile, farther south, the belligerent forces had been actively engaged from an early period in the year. Here it is unnecessary per- haps to relate in detail the various events of the campaign. Suffice it to say that Greene, the successor of Gates, after experiencing vari- ous reverses and triumphs, at length succeeded in freeing the greater part of South Carolina from the enemy's presence; while Cornwallis, his opponent, forcing his way northward, finally, in obedience to the directions of Clinton, con- centrated his army, eight thousand strong, in a favourable position on the peninsulas of York and Gloucester in Virginia.
Washington in the mean time had planned an attack on New York, in conjunction with the French troops still at Newport. But a large fleet arriving in the Chesapeake from France,
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HISTORY OF CONNECTICUT.
[1780.
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he at once quietly directed his operations to the investment of Cornwallis.
Penetrating Washington's design, Clinton en- deavoured to interrupt it by a diversion at the north. With this view, early in September he despatched Arnold, with an adequate force, to destroy New London, where public stores and private property to a large amount were collect- ed. Crossing from Long Island, Arnold landed his troops in two divisions at the entrance to the harbour.
On the eastern side of New London harbour there rises a lofty and precipitous hill. On the summit of this eminence was Fort Griswold. Illy adapted to repel a land attack, it was gar- risoned by but one hundred and eighty men, under the command of Colonel Ledyard. Against this work one division of the enemy marched, while the other, led by Arnold, proceeded to New London. After a brief but sanguinary con- flict, in which the assailants lost two hundred of their number, Fort Griswold was carried at the point of the bayonet. When all resistance had ceased, the leader of the British inquired, " Who commands this fort ?" Advancing and present- ing his sword, "I did," replied Ledyard, " but you do now." Seizing the proffered weapon, Ledyard's brutal captor immediately plunged it into his breast. Incited by the example of their commander, the British soldiers fell upon the
241
1780.]
ARNOLD AT NEW LONDON.
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