USA > Massachusetts > Berkshire County > Cheshire > History of the town of Cheshire, Berkshire County, Mass. > Part 5
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Squire Ezra Barker was at work in the field now occupied as a cemetery, and before the report had ceased he dropped his hoe, and with hasty steps went home for his gun and started alone. As he neared Pownal he met the women, children and old men, a panic-striken crowd, fleeing in terror from the " Bloody Britishers," and his righteous indignation against the sanguin- ary foe burst forth in oaths which tradition says waxed fiercer and fiercer,
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nor did they cease until the battle ground at Bennington was reached, and he could avail himself of a more effectual weapon than his tongue.
When numbered, Capt. Daniel Brown reported forty-six men from Lanesborongh. Colonel Joab Stafford gathered an independent band of volunteers numbering forty-one, from New Providence, Lanesborough, East Hoosuck and Windsor, while " Captain Samuel Low took from New Provi- dence forty-four men to Bennington battle." This same captain and com- pany had been doing duty from the last day of June until the 4th of August, when they were summoned to Bennington at a place called St. Croix, on the Walloomsac, eighteen miles from home. The men were mustered in on the 14th, and were in service six days according to the pay rolls.
When Champlain turned his two pigmy ships from the Atlantic down the dark St. Lawrence, seventy years after Cartier had named the river, and the little Indian village on its banks, he could find no trace of town or peo- ple, but was captivated by the charms of the new country, and fired with the ambitiou to plant his religion upon the ground, and claim it for his sovereign. Many Jesuits, missionaries and teachers, followed in the wake of the explorer, and through the wilds of Canada and Vermont, they trav- elled along the Indian trails, planting the cross of the Nazarine wherever they could win the savage to listen to the story. Here, where the Walloom- sac, the Hoosac and White Creek unite their waters, stood once the cross of the Jesuit who proposed to gather a flock and establish a mission. For a long time the white cross stood by these murmuring streams giving to the surrounding country the name of Saint Croix, according to the French Jesuits, and, becoming anglicized is sometimes called Sancrois, and even Sancook. The cross went down, at last, beneath the storms and gusts of the century, and a gristmill stood in 1772, near the junetion of the waters.
On August 14th, the hasty march was made by the Berkshire men eager for the fray. At an early hour on the morning of the 15th, Capt. Brown called the muster-roll of his company. All day the storm beat and the rain fell. the woods were filled with waiting anxious Yankees, the Indians, fright- ened, ran away in groups of twos and threes. Colonel Bamm sent a messen- ger to Gen. Burgoyne to tell him of the rising of the New Hampshire and Berkshire yeomanry, and Gen. Stark conducted himself like the spirited, vigorous man he was. His master mind influenced his men, and infused its spirit and bravery into them, making good soldiers of all, affording a bril- liant exploit from its inception to its achievement, and sending Benning- ton Battle on to posterity as one of the most important of the American Revolution. Reviewing his troops, as over the hill to the left just appearing in sight the British Grenadiers were proudly marching. Gen. Stark, mounted
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upon a bar of the rustic fence, and pointing with his long forefinger toward them, said with animation :
"There, boys, are our enemies-The Red Coats. We whip them to-day, my brave men; or Mollie Stark sleeps a widow to-night."
We all know the oft-repeated story, and need no person to tell us that Mollie Stark did not buy her widow's weeds that day.
Where there are so many anecdotes and incidents of interest as cluster around the day of this battle the temptation is very strong to give more than can have room in the pages of a condensed history; but only those may be taken that are closely allied with Cheshire at Bennington.
Mr. Stephen Whipple from this town, chanced to be given in the disposal of men a place among the fighting ranks, and when in his position some impulsive enthusiastic man, eager for a shot at the enemy, approached him begging him to exchange he having been assigned the care of some horses in the rear. Mr. Whipple said he did not mind provided the captain con- sented. So the arrangement was made, and the poor fellow so eager for a fighting position went down in the fray, while Whipple lived to tell the story.
Lieut: Amos Prindle of Capt. Brown's company, stood side by side with Dea. Stephen Carpenter of New Providence, when the latter saw a man behind the Tory breast-works, raise his gun, take aim and fire at Prindle who fell dead at the feet of Carpenter. The next instant Carpenter had sent a shot crashing through the brain of the Tory and saw him fall ; then the battle swept on, hiding the enemy from view. On going over the field next day Carpenter found, as he expected, the next door neighbor of Prindle, and an avowed Tory, stretched in death. His retribution had been swift and sure, and he must have met his victim again ere he left the battle-field.
Col. Stafford at the head of his band of volunteers was ordered to attack the Tory breast-works, which were in a southeasterly direction from the position of Col. Baum-a hill beyond the river-and distant something like a half mile. Approaching through a ravine which covered the little band from the fire of the enemy, they reached an advance guard of the Tories sooner than the colonel expected. He received a wound at this point, but it did not prevent him from retaining the command of his company, and lead- ing them on where they soon found hotter fighting. Where the Tory breast- works reared their bulwarks highest, where the fight raged fiercest, and for two hours one unbroken peal of cannon, and shot of Tory musketry crashed and boomed, and pealed through the August day, there stood our brave Berkshire men, fighting together in one band-as one regiment. The Indians fled the field. The Tories were driven from their last breast-work, the Hessians forced to leave the ground, and the British troops to sur- render. Col. Baum did, indeed, journey on the big road to meet his Great
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Commander ; but never would Gen. Burgoyne meet his officer at Albany on the Hudson, mid waving flags, and nodding plumes to the sound of tri- umphant music, for he fell mortally wounded on the hill at Bennington. They called the battle over, and said the day was won, when suddenly from over the winding Walloomsac-a tributary of the Hoosac-which was so shallow as to be forded at all points, and so crooked that it doubled three times as it meandered across the battle-ground, came the sound of marching feet, and past the mill, Col. Breyman's troops appeared with shining uni- forms fresh from camp. Even Gen. Stark, looking around upon his men, weary and fagged, and worn, was confused, and scarcely knew what could be done.
Major Warner, who had himself been in consultation with Stark since the first alarm had not been able to put his men into action. Coming up from Manchester on the 15th, they had been exposed to the flooding rains. were drenched through and through, weighed down with the mud, their guns water clogged, and ammunition wet. Ere they could put themselves in a condition to cope with so powerful an enemy, the fighting was over.
At this critical moment they came to Stark's relief, who encouraged by their movements strove to rally his own men. Calling for volunteers to go out and meet the enemy, a young man called to a companion to take his place as guard over the horses or baggage, and stepped out before Stark as the first volunteer.
"But," said a cantious old soldier, who knew by bitter experiences of the past what that day's work might mean, " You are too young, my friend, for such a job."
"No," exclaimed Stark, "he is the first to offer I shall trust him."
One by one the ranks were filled. Standing near the end of the Berk- shire line-by an old stone-wall-were two young men little more than boys and unknown to fame. These two had gone with the sturdy yeomanry when the signal gun had sounded on the tavern green, and answered at the roll-call of Capt. Brown, to the name of Daniel Coman and Nathan Wood. Watching Stark gathering his troops for the impending attack, seeing the peril of the hour, young Coman seemed to catch the inspiration, and leap- ing upon the wall he swung. his hat high above his head and shouted, "Come on my boys, lets give one more pull and the day will be onrs," and started forward to join the volunteers.
Meanwhile, Col. Breyman's command had halted near the grist-mill and about a mile from the first point of engagement. Warner's men and those who had rallied started down the road to meet the British. A slow march was made, and Breyman's men advanced strong and steady and sure. Well drilled and orderly, they met the Americans at a point about one mile
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from the hill where Baum fought and fell, half a mile from the spot where they had started to meet them along the road to the west, and half a mile from the mill where Breyman's corps made the first halt, thus the Amer- icans and British had marched each half a mile, but now the English sol- diers pressed our men steadily back, and still back, until they stood upon the very ground where the first volunteer had come to the front, and where young Coman had made his sally from the stone-wall. Here they took their stand and stood like a rock, not one inch did they yield, and the cannons thundered again over the little rivers and among the mountains, and the dead colonel and the lieutenants lay on the hill overlooking the valley where they had died in the morning battle. And the brave young men with the old made the final pull all together, and it settled the day, for as the sun went down beyond the tall old mountains its last look was upon the " Red Coats," with their glistening bayonets in rapid retreat before the forces of Stark.
So ended the battle of Bennington. Gen. Stark in writing of it said : " The hardy yeomanry of New Hampshire, Massachusetts and Vermont, fresh from the plough and unused to the camp, advanced through fire and smoke and mounted breastworks that were well fortified and defended with cannon." Burgoyne writes to England in sad contrast to his orders to Baum : "This section unpeopled, almost unknown during the last war, swarms with the most rebellious people on the continent, and hangs like a gathering storm on my left. The obstinacy with which they fought sur- prised and astonished all beholders." Burgoyne never regained the cheer- ful heart nor the high hopes with which he started on this campaign, never again as when the flotilla sailed down Champlain, was he so positive that only triumph awaited the royal armies. After this his Indian supporters deserted him by scores, and a general consternation settled over his endeavors.
The General Court afterward re-imbursed the towns of Lanesborough, New Ashford, Williamstown, East Hoosuck, Windsor and New Providence settlement for the powder, lead and flint used at the battle and provided in the flurry of the moment by themselves.
The spoils taken by Stark were equally distributed among his soldiers, and his bravery was rewarded by a vote of thanks and the stars of Brigadier , General. There is nothing in this queer world so successful as success. Stark acted independently-and succeeded. Had the battle by any fatality been lost the vote of censure actually passed by Congress after the battle, but before the news of its glorious success reached them, would have been forwarded with bitter disapproval in place of the promotion that followed. The present sent to Massachusetts from the Walloomscoick hangs in the Senate Chamber at Boston : A Hessian gun and bayonet, a drum, sword,
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HISTORY OF CHESHIRE.
and a grenadier's cap with its tuft of feathers. The sword of Col. Baum is still in the possession of G. W. Robinson of Bennington, and owned by E. D. Foster of Cheshire, is a walking stick made of a beech twig pulled on the battle-field in 1967.
Seven hundred prisoners, four field pieces, four ammunition wagons, and a thousand stand of arms were the trophies of Stark and his brave men at Bennington.
Among those who went from Lanesborough. (now Cheshire), was Capt. Daniel Brown. At his home, on that still afternoon in autumn, came the sound of an occasional cannon shot. By the cradle of a sick child sat the wife of the soldier, the village doctor had told her there was but little hope of recovery, and as every echo from the battle. sixteen miles away, reached her ears, she kissed the cold brow of the infant, and shivered lest her hus- band too, might be lying cold in death.
"Send for the captain," said an attendant who was witness to her silent grief.
"Oh, no," replied the brave woman, "I would not call him from his place of duty. He would not come if I did," and she turned to watch by the cradle of the little sufferer.
The prisoners taken at Bennington were marched through Berkshire Connty and a detachment of them passed through Lanesborough, (now known as Cheshire). Among these was a band of Hessians who could speak no English-as a rule-and had been told when hired to England's King to help fight his war in the colonies, that if they were ever taken prisoners they would be massacred in cold blood by the Americans who were by nature a cruel and bloodthirsty people, therefore, they must fight like bloodhounds before they suffered themselves to be taken prisoners. So now they recalled this story and believed that a dreadful death awaited them in the near future. Marching with downcast faces and heavy hearts, they reached the farm on the old road down the valley owned now by Mrs. Reed, when one of the Hessians who had learned a smattering of the English tongue, on entering into conversation with a guard found that they were not to be murdered, only paroled and prevented from fighting. The news ran like lightning along the line, overjoyed with the assurance they struck np a wild Hessian song of trinmph. The music rolled along the valley, gathered strength with every added bar, travelled on and on, echoed from the hills, and swelling in one grand finale died away in notes of joy on the distance.
From Stone's Campaign of Burgoyne, a book somewhat rare, the follow- ing letters are taken, which will doubtless interest all dwellers of Cheshire who are interested in its carly history. The first is a letter containing a
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communication from the lips of Col. Joab Stafford's son, Richard, made in 1828, and runs as follows :
"My father lived in the western part of Massachusetts, and when Col. Warner called upon the militia to come out and defend the public stores at Bennington, he set off at once with many of his neighbors and hurried his march. He was well known to his townsmen, and so much esteemed that the best men were ready to go with him, many of them pious people, long members of the church, and among them young and old, and of different conditions. When they reached the ground they found the Hessians posted in a line, and on a spot of high ground a small redoubt was seen formed of earth just thrown up where they understood a body of Loyalists or Provincial troops, that is Tories, was stationed. Col. Warner had command under Gen. Stark, and it is generally thought that he had more to do than his superior in the business of the day. He was held in high regard by the Massachusetts people, and my father reported himself to him, and told him that he awaited his orders. He was soon assigned a place in the line, and the Tory fort was pointed out as his particular object of attack.
" When making arrangements to march out his men, my father turned to a tall, athletic man, one of the most vigorous of the band, and remarkable for size and strength among his neighbors. 'I am glad,' said he, 'to see you among us. You did not march with the company; but, I suppose, you are anxious for the day to begin.' This was said in the hearing of the rest, and attracted their attention. My father was surprised and mortified on observing the man's face turn pale and his limbs tremble. With a faltering voice he replied : ' Oh, no, sir, I didn't come to fight, I only came to drive back the horses!' 'I am glad,' said my father, 'to find out we have a coward among us before we go into battle., Stand back, and do not show yourself here any longer.'
"This occurrence gave my father much regret, and he repented having spoken to the man in the presence of his company. The country, you know, was at that time in a very critical state. Gen. Burgoyne had come down from Canada with an army which had driven all the American troops before it. Crown Point and Ticonderoga, the fortresses of Lake Champlain, in which the northern people placed such con- fidence had been deserted at his approach, and the army disgraced itself by a panic retreat without fighting a battle, while Burgoyne was publishing boastful and threat- ening proclamations which frightened many, and induced some to declare for the King. Just at such a time when so many bad examples were set, and there were so many dangers to drive others to follow, it was a sad thing to see a hale, hearty, tall man shake and tremble in the presence of the enemy as we were just going to fight them. However, an occurrence happened, fortunately, to take place immediately after which made amends. There was an aged and excellent old man present, of a slender frame, stooping a little with advanced age and hard work, with a wrinkled face and well known as one of the oldest person in our town, and the oldest on the ground. My father was struck with regard for his aged frame, and much as he felt numbers to be desirable in the impending struggle he felt a great reluctance at the thought of leading him into it. He therefore turned to him and said: 'The labors of the day threaten to be severe, it is therefore my particular request that you will take your post as sentinel yonder, and keep charge of the bagage.' The old man stepped for- ward with an unexpected spring, his face was lighted with a smile, and pulling off his hat in the excitement of his spirit, half affecting the gayety of a youth, whilst his loose hair shone as white as silver, he briskly replied: 'Not till I've had a shot at them first, Captain, if you please.' All thoughts were now directed toward the ene-
.
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mies line, and the company partaking in the enthusiasm of the old man gave three cheers. My father was set at ease again in a moment, and orders being soon brought to advance he placed himself at their head, and gave the word, 'Forward, march!
"He had observed some irregularity in the ground before them which he had thought might favor his approach, and he discovered that a small ravine, which they soon entered, would cover his determined little band from the shot of the enemy, and even from their observations, at least for some distance. He pursued its course, but was so far disappointed in his expectations that, instead of terminating at a distance from the enemy's line, on emerging from it, and looking about to see where he was, he found the fresh embankment of the Tory fort just above him, and the heads of the Tories peeping over with their guns levelled at him. Turning to call on his men he was surprised to find himself flat on the ground without knowing why, for the enemy had fired and a ball had gone through his foot into the ground, cutting some of the sinews just as he was stepping on it so as to bring him down. At the same time the shock had deafened him to the report of the muskets. The foremost of the soldiers ran up to take him in their arms, believing him to be dead or mortally wounded, but he was too quick for them, and sprang on his feet, glad to find he was not seriously hurt, and was able to stand. He feared that his fall might check his followers, and as he caught the glimpse of a man in a red coat running across a distant field, he cried out, 'Come on, my boys ! they run! they run" So saying, he sprang up, and clamber- ing to the top of the fort, while the enemy were hurrying their powder into the pans and the muzzles of their pieces, his men rushed on shouting and firing and jumping over the breastworks, and pushing upon the defenders so closely that they threw themselves over the opposite wall, and ran down the hill as fast as their legs could carry them.
" It so happened that many years after the close of the war, and when I heard my father tell this story many times over, I became acquainted with an old townsmen of his who was a Loyalist, and took an active part as a soldier in the service of King George, and he told me the following story of the battle of Bennington:
" I lived not far from the western border of Massachusetts when the war begun, and knew your father very well. Believing that I owed duty to my King I became known as a Loyalist, or, as they called me, a Tory, and my position became very unpleasant. I therefore left home, and got with the British troops who were come down with Burgoyne to restore the country to peace, as I thought.
" When the Hessians were sent to take the stores at Bennington I went with them, and took my station with some of the other Loyalists in a redoubt or small fort in the line. We were all ready when we saw the Rebels coming to attack us, and were on such a hill, and behind such a bank that we felt perfectly safe, and thought we could kill any body of troops sent against us before they could reach the place upon which we stood. We had not expected, however, that they would approach ns under cover, but supposed we should see them on the way. We did not know that a little gully which lay below us was long enough and deep enough to conceal them; but they knew the ground, and the first we saw of the party coming to attack ns they made their appearance right under our guns. Your father was at the head of them. I was standing at the wall with my gun loaded in my hand, and several of us levelled onr pieces at once. I took as fair aim at them as ever I did at a bird in my life, and thought I was sure of them although we had to point so much downward that it made a man a small mark. Your father and I fired together, and he fell I thought he was dead to a certainty, but to our surprise he was on his feet again in an instant, and
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they all came jumping in upon us with such a noise that we thought of nothing but getting out of the way of their muskets as fast as possible, and we scattered in all directions. I had a sister living in that vicinity with whom I sought refuge."
When Col. Stafford was carried from the battle-field of Bennington on a litter, up the slope of Stafford's Hill to his own home, where he kept at that time a tavern and store combined ; in his bar-room they found Cum- mins, the Tory, whom the colonel reprimanded on the morning of the sixteenth. As he had arranged to do he drove the horses home, and on this day dropped in at the tavern. He had rendered himself obnoxious to his patriotic neighbors prior to this, and now to find him comfortably quartered there, while their brave friend and commander was suffering from a wound inflicted by just such Tories as he was rendered them wild with indignation, and they would have hung him without judge or jury as soon as they could have prepared and adjusted a rope had it not been for the interference of Col. Joab, who took the ground that his house was the refuge of all in distress, and he would not suffer it.
By thus saving the life of Cummins he secured warm friends for his family, and descendants as well as for himself, for the man was so over- whelmed by such an unexpected act of friendship or kindness, that he never could forget it, but remained an ardent friend of the noble colonel, and bequeathed the feeling as a legacy to his children. Living in the same town with Col. Stafford was an old white-haired man-probably the oldest man in New Providence settlement at the time of Bennington Battle-by the name of Henry Tibbits. He heard the news of the invasion that threatened the frontier, and was told that the signal gun was to be fired on the tavern green when men were needed. He took down his musket, he cleaned and polished it, he carefully loaded it, then he filled his powder-flask, and took his shot, arranging it as hunters do, and placing it in some secure hiding place he told his wife that he must needs chop his trees, but if the gun should sound from the tavern door she should take the musket from off the hook, and bring it to him in the woods.
Busy at her work she did not fail to listen, and through the open windows came at last the booming of the gun to notify the minute men, and accord- ing to the plan the brave woman took the musket and went out to meet her husband. He waited for no formalities, his leather apron girdled his waist, and he took no time to remove it. Receiving the weapon from the hands that bore it with a hurried good-bye he was off for Bennington, and was the white-haired man who so earnestly desired "one shot at 'em," before he accepted the place proposed as overseer of the horses and baggage. Henry Tibbits was related by marriage to Col. Stafford.
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