USA > Rhode Island > The "Old Stone Bank" history of Rhode Island, Vol. II > Part 16
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22
What do the histories say about East Greenwich pottery and the Uptons? They say that in 1771 Thomas Aldrich sold the lot at the corner of King and Marlborough
Streets to Isaac and Samuel Upton. The two were brothers, both having been born at Bedford, Mass., in a family of pottery- makers. The father had come from Dan- vers, Mass., where he had been one of a locally famous group of glaziers, and had passed on his trade to his sons.
For many years the family had lived on Cape Cod, the brothers both marrying Yar- mouth girls although Samuel later went to Nantucket. There he varied the trade of potter with that of being a sailor until the war. In 1775 he came to East Greenwich and again joined his brother in the pot- ter's shop. For the whole space of the war the brothers worked together, trying hard to supply the needs of a whole bay-side while imports were at a standstill.
They dug their coarse red clay from de- posits which are still in existence at Quid- nesett, at a spot called Gould's Mount, and carried it to the kiln to mould it for firing. While the clay was coarse and the product nearly as much so, the demand was nearly more than they could supply. We can be assured that while the colonists did not pre- fer this rough crockery to the finer prod- ucts of the English kilns, in this period of violent anti-British feeling the work of the Uptons served as one of the great helps to bolster up a colonial pride and courage.
The pottery itself was to be found in every household, but little has been pre- served. The very coarseness of the clay made breaking very easy, and for that rea- son the greater part of it has disappeared. To the colonists the contents were probably the most inviting aspect of this crude crock- ery, even though those of us who love an- tiques might be apt to see beyond the prac- tical side. We can be sure, however, that the East Greenwich colonists enjoyed many good cups of "Victory" tea and as many delicious dinners from this red clay pottery as they ever did from finer porcelain.
A few specimens of the pottery now exist in the possession of collectors and mu- seums, even though the great bulk of it is gone. The Uptons themselves left East Greenwich immediately after the war. In 1783 Isaac, who had moved to Berkley, Mass., deeded his share of the shop and kiln to Samuel for 250 Spanish milled dol- lars. However, Samuel did not remain to take full possession but returned to Nan-
99
"THE OLD STONE BANK"
tucket to begin again his sailor's life. Pot- tery has not been made in East Greenwich from that time, and the fame of East Green- wich pottery remains with the Uptons.
There was another potter named Joseph Wilson, who carried on business at the time in North Providence. But his work was based on the principles of glazing taught
by the Swiss and Germans in Philadelphia and does not stand out so individually and so typically of the times as that of the Uptons. They were colonists and their work embodied the colonial spirit to the very last degree. Upon this distinctive quality the fame of East Greenwich pottery rests today.
AT THE POINT OF THE CANDLESTICK
TT WAS May in Rhode Island, the first spring after the dreadful winter of ice and snow and suffering at Valley Forge. Three long years had the men of Warren, Rhode Island, watched and planned against and fought the foe, and three long years had the Warren women knitted and sewed and deprived themselves that the hardships of the Continental soldiers might be lessened.
A month before, the French alliance had been signed, and many believed that, be- cause of this, the war would be over, but the wiser ones knew that the end was still far off.
In 1776, there were only 1,005 inhabi- tants, including slaves, in the town of War- ren, and with the departure of volunteers to join Washington's army, but a very small fighting force remained. However, the few men that were still available planned an expedition against the British forces in Rhode Island. They had built seventy whale-boats, and these, together with the re-conditioned row-galley "Washington," lay in the Kickemuit River in readiness for the attack upon the British stronghold. In addition to the boats, a great supply of tar, pitch and powder was available for use in the bold exploit.
They believed that the expedition would succeed, for the utmost secrecy had been preserved. True, everyone in Warren knew of the idea-even Mr. Holland, the English- man. But everyone in town was known to be loyal. And Mr. Holland was loyal-he was the schoolmaster and a trusted person- age.
But someone transmitted the secret to General Pigot, the commander of the Brit- ish forces in Rhode Island. There was a "Watch House" on a high bank of the
Kickemuit River, yet for once it must have lacked a watchman, for on the 25th of May a body of troops which Pigot had des- patched from Newport to Bristol marched on to Warren and took the town completely by surprise.
There were British soldiers and their cohorts, the Hessian mercenaries, five hun- dred strong in all. Under Lieutenant- Colonel Campbell they at once began a sys- tematic tour of destruction and pillage. The majority hurried to the Kickemuit River, where the patriots' boats lay in readiness for the planned attack upon the British. These they burned, together with the "Washing- ton." Continuing their riotous invasion, they also burned the Baptist Church, the Baptist parsonage, and other buildings. And to make a good job of it, they blew up the powder house and burned all the stores of pitch and tar. Who could have betrayed the plans of the patriots? No one knows.
While the soldiers were preparing to burn the grist-mill, the miller cried, "Spare the mill, brothers!"
"Brothers?" repeated one of the soldiers. "Do you call us that? If we are your broth- ers, we shall do you a favor and take you out of this nest of rebels." Accordingly he signalled to his comrades and the miller was taken away as a prisoner. Perhaps the mil- ler was the traitor.
However, it is more than likely that Mr. Holland was not as loyal as his fellow townsmen had believed. When the British soldiers were leaving the town, they stopped and cheered loudly when they reached his house. He immediately came out and joined them, and with them disappeared from War- ren forever.
The British retreat was a brilliant one. Colonel Campbell feared that other coun-
100
PROVIDENCE INSTITUTION FOR SAVINGS
ties might come to Warren's aid, yet he wanted to leave a last touch of British pomp with the despoiled patriots. Heading the line were the prisoners with their guards. Behind them marched the Hessians, wear- ing great boots and huge fur caps, the boots filled with plunder of every description. Following were the British in their scarlet coats, their gold lace, their three-cornered hats, and their small-clothes and buckled shoes. Last of all marched Colonel Camp- bell. Drums were beating, flags were flying, and it was a very gay affair.
But the Colonel was not last, for far behind straggled a diminutive drummer. His drum was very large,-he was very tired,-and he was very full, not of the clear water from the spring of Massasoit, but of good West India rum. As he passed in front of the hotel with faltering steps, a group of women, among them a young girl named Nellie Easterbrooks, noticed him. These women were excited and worked up to the last pitch of anger because of the brutal treatment they had been forced to undergo from the insolent invaders. All sorts of outrages had been committed by the Hessians and British while they were accumulating plunder, including one in- stance where a group of bullies forced a woman to hand over all her best china while they deliberately broke it piece by piece. Nellie Easterbrooks had been listening to
the stories told by these women. She was a small girl, but she had a fierce impetuosity backed up by daring.
The drummer might have gotten by safely had Nellie not seen him. She sprang up, stirring the group of women to action. "Let's take that man!" she cried. Running inside the hotel, she seized a tall brass candlestick and rushed with it into the street. In a wild burst of anger, the other women followed her.
She pointed the candlestick, glistening in the sun, full at the drummer and com- manded him to halt. White with fear, the man threw up his hands, crying, "Don't fire, ladies, I surrender!"
Women wore aprons in those days, and every one of those present tore hers to strips and bound him with them. Then they dragged their bewildered captive into the hotel and locked him into a closet there.
It is said that he was very glad to be cap- tured, for his drum was getting extremely heavy and he was having great difficulty in maintaining a soldierly bearing. One story has it that he was later exchanged for an American prisoner, while another has it that he remained in Warren and married one of the women there. If he did marry a Warren girl, it was surely not Nellie Easter- brooks. She married one Nathaniel Hicks West of Bristol, who was a true patriot and not a subject of King George.
SILAS TALBOT
TE THE Revolution bred scores of leaders in both the military and naval fields, mas- ters of merchantmen who were immediately fitted through their long seafaring experi- ence to take charge of privateers and men- of-war, and men of the soil whose long struggle in building up farms, plantations, and accompanying industries well fitted them for the rigors of life in military serv- ice. Skilled leaders there were of every sort, but in one man, the subject of this brief sketch, there was the very unusual combination of consummate skill and lead- ership in both the naval and military fields.
Born the ninth in a large family of four- teen children, he was early thrown upon his own resources at the age of twelve when his
father died. The family lived in Bristol, however, and it was only natural for Silas to turn to the sea for both an education and livelihood. Starting as a cabin boy and making the most of his keen wits and hardy, rugged constitution, he advanced rapidly, soon having his own command. In 1772 he married a Miss Richmond of an old Colonial family and built a fine home in Providence out of his seaman's earnings. As a boy he had known the trade of a stone-mason, but lucrative as it was, he had abandoned it for the sea.
After settling in Providence, he turned to a bit of mercantile speculation, special- izing in lumber. But he had hardly started in this type of occupation when
101
"THE OLD STONE BANK"
the Revolution broke out. At once men everywhere began to train for war, carrying into the various branches of military service the training of their separate professions or occupations. Talbot and some compan- ions hired a loft in an old sugar house, collected a small company of men, and began some earnest drilling under the able tutelage of a runaway Scotch drum-major. As a result, when the Rhode Island regi- ments were being formed, he was given an immediate captaincy and saw a little serv- ice right away.
Soon he went on to New York with the army and joined the American forces along the Hudson. The British fleet under Lord Howe was then anchored in New York har- bor and the lower Hudson, providing a constant threat to the American batteries. Then it was that Talbot left the army to take service with what American navy there was. He was given command of a fire ship and ordered to proceed up the Hudson some fifteen miles or so, anchor and await instructions. During the three days he lay in waiting some of the British vessels sepa- rated from the fleet and strung themselves out along the Hudson. This was all that was necessary. Talbot immediately received orders to proceed against them. He selected one large warship that lay about seven miles away as the object of attack and began his preparations.
All during the evening his crew labored to put the fire ship in readiness. She was filled with all sorts of combustibles, soaked with turpentine and trains of pow- der laid along her deck. One daring sea- man was appointed to strip down and lie flat on her deck with a match in hand to fire the powder at the last moment. At two o'clock in the morning the anchor was hoisted and the ship drifted down stream. Captain Talbot sighted the British ship through the mist and steered for her broad- side. The attack was totally unexpected by the enemy, and the fire ship was upon them and grappled fast before they were half awake.
It is easy to picture the chaos that ensued. The flaming fireship proved a fine torch to light the large 64-gun warship. The latter's spars and rigging were silhou- etted in a lurid glow that could be seen
for miles. Men were running about her decks, some trying to battle the fire, others jumping headlong into the river. Mean- while Captain Talbot and his audacious crew had tumbled into a small boat and were rowing away from the scene as rap- idly as possible, their mission accom- plished. Before they reached safety, other British ships had come to the aid of their stricken companion and shot from their small arms and guns were flying about the little American skiff. It was hit but twice, however, and all reached shore safely. But the fireship had done its own damage where the enemy's guns had not. Talbot, who had been last to leave, was terribly burned, his clothes charred completely and his eye- sight almost gone.
Once on shore, the crew carried him to various homes for aid and finally laid him in a widow's cabin and covered him with a blanket. And in such a condition well might he have died had not two American officers, one a doctor, been passing by. They had him removed to a hospital; and, though he suffered for a long while and was blind in the meantime, he recovered fully.
The British ship had been pulled away from the fireship, badly damaged, but the best result of the whole enterprise was that the British fleet withdrew to below New York. Talbot was highly commended for his daring, given a vote of thanks by Con- gress, made a major, and commended to General Washington.
Once recovered, he took joint command of the American forces in Mud Island fort on the Delaware River. Here a small force was being beseiged by a large force of British, part stationed in an opposing fort and part stationed in warships. The Mud Island fort was raked with a heavy cross- fire, but it was able to hold its own until a large armed transport was brought directly against it. Under the broadsides from this ship the American force had to evacuate its position. But this was not done while Major Talbot was on the scene. He had fought for hours with a shattered wrist and only forced to retire when another piece of shot struck him in the hip.
Again he was in the hospital and again he received congratulations all round for
102
PROVIDENCE INSTITUTION FOR SAVINGS
his gallant services. He received an audi- ence with Washington, was highly com- mended by his superior, and sent home for a leave of absence to Rhode Island.
In 1776, recovered again, he was with the American forces in the battle of Rhode Island. It was he who secured the 86 small boats that General Sullivan's army used in the crossing from the mainland to the island; it was he who was sent on a lone reconnoitering trip down the island; and it was he who finally checked the British to cover the retreat of the Americans from the island after the failure of Sullivan's expedition.
From this exploit he jumped to action on the water once more, outfitting a sloop and under the cover of darkness capturing the heavily armed Pigot galley that lay in a dangerous position at the mouth of the Seakonnet River. For this great bit of dar- ing he was made a colonel. Twice more he tried similar enterprises with the sloop, named "Hawk," but was unsuccessful due to circumstances beyond his control. Then he was formally transferred to the navy and ordered to guard the coast from Long Island to Nantucket.
But though he had a commission, he had no ship. Congress was too poor to supply him with one, so he outfitted a small sloop, named "Argo," and took command. The very inferiority of his little vessel in size and armament proved to its advantage, for it had great speed and was fine for swift dashes upon the enemy. He trained his crew to the utmost efficiency and kept them at the pitch of excitement. In May, 1779, he set out with 60 men in this wide-sterned vessel, so clumsy with its high bulkhead and only a tiller to steer by. But clumsy or not, the "Argo" soon gained a great reputation under his command. She had many skirmishes with the British, drove many of their vessels out of the harbors along the coast, and finally had a success- ful fight with the Tory privateer, "King George," which had been doing much dam- age. Under the skillful leadership of Cap- tain Talbot, it took only one broadside to make the larger vessel surrender. Later in the year this commander fought for four and one-half hours with a large English warship. The vessels were within pistol
shot of each other, and he had his speaking trumpet pieced twice and his coat-tails shot off. When the mainmast of the British ves- sel crashed down, she surrendered. But by then the "Argo" herself was sinking. With plugging in her hull to stop the gaping holes she was kept afloat and was able to accompany her prize to port. After this engagement the "Argo" was taken back by her original owners. With her, Captain Talbot had captured five enemy ships and three hundred prisoners.
Again he received accord from all sides, letters from Congress and from various commanders. Again he was promised a ship but finally had to procure one him- self. In this ship, the "George Washing- ton," his fortunes turned. After about two engagements he was captured by a large man-of-war, beginning for him a long period of imprisonment. For a while he was on that "hell-ship," the New Jersey prison galley, then kept for a while in the "Old Sugar House" in New York. From there he was carried on a terrible seven weeks' winter voyage on board the prison ship "Yarmouth" and taken to Dartmoor prison, England. From here he made three bold attempts to escape, but was caught every time and severely punished. Finally he was released but left destitute in England.
By being exchanged for a British pris- oner he was sent to France, secured help from Benjamin Franklin, and at last set out for America again. The brig he was on was captured but his kind-hearted captor, learning his story, put him on another ship bound for New York. In 1782 he reached New York and, after resting, proceeded to Providence once more, after having been gone more than two years. Quarrels over his merit as an officer so disgusted him that he sold all his Providence property and moved to New York, buying the confiscated estate of Sir William Johnson. Here he engaged in farming, until he was recalled in 1794 to command the frigate "Consti- tution" in the short Algerian war. Though his service was again as colorful and com- mendable as before, difficulties with the war department over his rank made him impul- sively resign his commission and retire from the navy forever.
103
"THE OLD STONE BANK"
Thus for the rest of his life he lived in retirement upon his farm. He was always a gentleman in the true sense of the word,
a born leader, an ardent patriot, and, most important of all to us, a Rhode Islander. He died in 1813 in New York.
THE OLD STONE CHIMNEY HOUSE
T THERE is an old house in Rhode Island that intrigues many persons. It is some- times referred to as the old "Garrison House," sometimes as "The Old Stone Chimney House," but many like best to think of it by the name that an old paper gave it, which is "The Splendid Mansion of Eleazar Arnold."
If you leave the trolley at "Loafers' Tree" and walk along the "Great Road" toward Quinsnicket in the town of Lincoln, the first impression of the ancient house is that it is common and uninteresting. But go to the north end of the building and gaze upon the great stone chimney in order to find the picturesque and ancient aspect of the "Mansion."
The late Mr. Preserved Arnold, in whose family this estate was for the better part of three centuries, said that no one but Indians and Arnolds had ever owned the land, and that when this house was built people came from miles around to see "The Splendid Mansion of Eleazar Arnold."
Mr. Arnold further said, that the walls of the house were interlined with flint to guard against possible attacks of the In- dians. He told, also, of the three men who built the great chimney. The first man who worked on it died before it was completed. A second worker, taking up the task that the first one laid down, also died suddenly before his work was finished. The third man, with courage, completed it, all the work being so well done that the chimney stands today a monument to its three builders.
Just a little farther along the "Great Road" one turns into the grove of Quin- snicket-in Indian language, "Place of Many Stones." In this lovely glen King Philip brought, each winter, his Queen, his son and the royal household. One may still see a few stones marking the site of the Queen's stone wigwam on the bank of the
brook. It is said that Philip, from the top of the great flat rock overhanging the gold- fish pond, would harangue his warriors gathered at the base, and it was at this spot that the Pierce massacre was planned in 1676. The Indians preferred this well- sheltered glen at Quinsnicket to Mount Hope in the severe weather.
There are many lovely legends of this neighborhood, the most romantic of which has been told elsewhere. This was the story of the beautiful Betsey Whipple, who lived in Cumberland, but who visited at "The Old Stone-Chimney House" under whose south wall may still be seen the bed of lilies-of-the-valley over which she and her lover stood. For no less a personage than the Vicomte Rochambeau, son of the Gen- eral of that name, courted Betsey. She sent him away but accepted, later, his part- ing gift of his magnificent war-horse. This lady lived many years after the close of the Revolution. You may still read her will, on file in the archives of the Cumberland Town Hall.
Mr. Arnold told of another incident in her life, less romantic than her love-affair with the younger Rochambeau, but still of interest. It seems that more than one man aspired to her hand, and one in particular was very persistent. Again and again had Betsey Whipple said him "Nay," and again and again had he renewed his suit. Late one evening she allowed him to escort her home from some social gathering, and crossing the dark fields to her father's house they found their way by the feeble light of a lantern. For the last time the enamoured swain asked Betsey to marry him and once again the girl refused him. Naturally very disappointed and annoyed, the young man took his revenge upon her. "Betsey," he said, "since thee doth prefer to walk alone through life, thee hath best begin to-night." And so saying, he turned on his heel and left her alone to stumble over the dark path .
104
PROVIDENCE INSTITUTION FOR SAVINGS
through the fields to her father's house. For he, in his anger, took the lantern with him!
All the rest of her life Betsey Whipple told that story to her family, but she would never disclose the man's name. Her rela- tives were always very desirous of ascer- taining who the man was, but she remained magnanimously loyal and would not tell them. Finally, when she was ninety-five years old, and dying, one of her nieces bent over her. "Auntie," she said coaxingly, "who did you say it was that used you so unmannerly that night you refused to marry him?"
The old lady opened her once beautiful eyes, and with a last twinkle in them said: "I did never tell thee, my dear!" and died with her secret intact.
The "Splendid Mansion of Eleazar Ar- nold" does not look very splendid now. It stands with boarded windows, the highway encroaches on its lawn and naught remains of its former state but the magnificent stone chimney on whose hearth, alas, no great logs now burn. But the deserted house has a truly splendid neighbor. This is the old- seam-face granite house standing almost opposite the Butterfly Factory, just before you turn into Quinsnicket. Many stories have been told of the furore for lotteries in years long past, how individuals and churches even raised money in this way.
Some time previous to 1807 a young man by the name of Stephen Smith was madly in love with an ambitious girl who prom- ised to marry him if he would build her a house "better than any other in the county." So Mr. Smith bought a lucky ticket in the Louisiana Lottery and, fortunately, won $40,000.00. This was a fortune in those days, and he very happily set about build- ing in good, substantial granite from across the fields, the realization of his dreams.
Slowly the beautiful structure rose and its lovely line of roof still delights the eye, representing as it does the very last of the Colonial period of architecture. It was used as a model for the "Rhode Island
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.