E241 .G8C7 ^^^ -^ &' y- ^ <■ ^^'^ 5-7t, o_ ^' "^, <^ • ' - ' At °.. • • •• a9 'V, ' . . o = *^ -V n- '" .^ "^j. "3 'A-^ % '^"f' l-jv - • -^C ^Ol * \0 '7'. r'v "J^^ . \^ H c S\ "^^^ A^^'^ .* A¥.^ 4 o •^ .^' .V **\- ^ r.^ Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2010 witii funding from Tine Library of Congress littp://www.arcliive.org/details/battleofgrotonlieOOcopp igSi. September^ 6th. 1881. THE Battle of Eroton Heights; The Massacre of Fort Griswold; — AND — The Burning of Hgw London. HISTORICAL SKETCH BY JGHM J, COPP, ESQ, OF GROTON, — AND — ADDRESS BY LEONARD WOOLSEY BACON, OF NORWICH. — ON — The Ninety-Eighth Anniversary, Sept. 6th, 1879. '"If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was lauded in my country, I never would lay down my arms— «e«cr, never, never.'''' "You cannot, my lords, you cannot conquer America.''^ — Lord Chatham. Published by authority of The Groton Heights Centennial Committee, December, 1879. Officers and Members of the Erolon Heights Cealennial Comittee. President : J. GEOKGE HAERIS, of Groton. Yice Presidents : BENJAMIN STARK, New London, WILLIAM H. POTTER, Groton, JOHN BREWSTER, Ledyard. Secretary : ;< JOHN J. COPP, Groton. Treasurer : CHRISTOPHER L. AVERY, Groton. Members : Robert A. Gray, Groton. Frederic Bili,, " Daniel C. Rodman, John B. Getchell, Braddock M. Chester, '• Erasmus D. Avery, Elisha a. Hewitt, Robert A. Morgan, " GuRDON Gates, David A. Daboll, Nathan S. Fish, ALBERT L. Avery, " William H. Miner, " N. T. Allen " Elihu Spicer, " William H. Tubes, New London. V'- Stephen A. Gardner, Jr., ^ " ^*\ George F. Tinker, ' " > ^24. 11 oft' Long Island shore about opposite New London. Here they waited for darkness and the south-west wind, hoping to arrive in the harbor at midnight, suprise the garrisons, capture the forts and prevent the escape of the shipping. At 7 p. m. tlie fleet weighed anchor and stood for New London with a fair wind. At i o'clock next morning they arrived off the mouth of the river, when the wind suddenly shifted to the northward, and it was 9 o'clock in the forenoon before the transports could beat in. Capt. William Latham, a soldier of the Continental Army, who had seen service at Bunker Hill, had charge of the garrison of Fort Griswold. About 3 o'clock in the morning the fleet had been descried by a sentinal from the fort, and Capt. Latham had sent notice to Colonel William Ledyard who was in command of the forts and harbor of New London. The signal to call the militia in from the out- lying towns was two guns fired at intervals. Col. Ledyard ordered the signal guns to be fired. The British seem to have understood the signal and fired a third gun which broke the alarm. Col. Leydard, however, had taken the precaution to send out expresses, one to Governor Trumbull at Lebanon, and others to commanders of militia in the neighborhood, to hasten to the defense of the fort. Many treated the alarm lightly — others disbelieved altogether. For six years they had been subject to alarms and gun firings. But Col. Ledyard, "caught its tones with death's prophetic ear." Taking leave of some friends as he crossed the river from New London he said, "if I must lose to-day, honor or life, you, who know me can tell which it will be," At 10 o'clock, Thursday morning, September 6th, 1781, the British troops in two divisions, of about eight hundred men each, landed on either side of the river ; that on New London side, under the traitor Arnold; that on the Groton side, under Lieutenant Colonel E3'^re. Arnold's division marched up the Tovv-n Hill road from which he sent a detachment under Capt. Millet which captured Fort Trumbull, then a mere water battery, open from behind, in which were twenty-three men under command of Capt. Adam Shapley. Capt. Shapley finding it idle to resist so large a body of troops, threw a few 12 charges of shot into them as they came up, then spiked liis guns and started his command across the river in three boats. The British fleet was so near that they were subject to their fire during the flight across the river and one boat with seven men was captured. Shapley with the remaining sixteen, among whom was Sergeant Hempstead, found shelter in Fort Griswold, where the little garrison welcomed them with many demonstrations of joy, for they were experienced artillerists. From the summit of Town Hill at ii o'clock, Arnold had dispatched an officer to Colonel Eyre, giving him such tory information as he had received; to the effect that there were only twenty or thirty men in Fort Griswold, the inhabitants being chiefly concerned in saving their property, and bidding him make all haste in his attack on the fort. Colonel Eyre was landing his troops at Eastern Point in two debarkations. The 40th and 54th regiments were the first to land and with these he started for the scene of action. A lame boy (the name of this boy was Bill Herrin) was cc5mpelled to act as their guide. Over the rocks and through the swamps Bill Herrin went limping along followed by the British regulars till he got them into Dark Hollow, near the old house formerly occupied by Deacon Austin Aver)^ From this place, just in tlie rear of Packers Rocks, Col. Eyre sent Capt. Beckwith, a New Jersey loyalist, "to demand the immediate surrender of the fort, with a threat, that if the demand was not complied with, it would be stormed five minutes after the return of the flag." The second debarkation of Col. Eyre's troops consisting of the 3rd battalion of New Jersey volunteers with a detachment of yagers and artillery, did not arrive in time to take part in the storming of the fort. There were now 160 men in Fort Griswold. There was Col. William Ledyard, brother of John Ledyard the traveller. There was Capt. William Latham, Capt. Amos Stanton, Capt. Simeon AUyn, Capt. Samuel Allyn, Capt. Elisha Avery, Capt. Elijah Avery, Capt. Youngs Ledyard, Capt. John Williams, Capt. Hubbard Burrows, Capt. Nathan Moore, Capt. Solomon Perkins, Capt. Edward Latham, Lieut. Joseph Lewis, Lieut. Eben^zer Avery, Lieut. Henry Williams, Lieut, Patrick Ward, 18 Lieut. Park Avery? Lieut Obadiah Perkins, Lieut. William Starr, Ensign John Lester, Ensign Daniel Avery, Ensign Charles Eldridge, Ensign Joseph Woodmancy, Ensign Ebene- zer Avery, Sergeant Eldridge Chester, Sergt. John Stedman, Sergt. Solomon Avery, Sergt. Jasper Avery, Sergt. Ezekial Bailey, Sergt. Rufus LIurlburt, Sergt. Nicholas Starr, Sergt. Rufus Avery, Sergt. Christopher Avery, and eighty-six others, mostly farmers and farmers sons from Groton, including the present town of Ledyard. There was Capt. Adam Shapley, Capt. Peter Richards, Lieut. Richard Chapman, Sergt. Stephen Hempstead, and nine others from New London. There were the Stanton Brothers and Thomas Williams from Stonington, the Whittlesey Brothers and Daniel Williams from Sa3-brook, and Capt. Elias H. Halsey of Bridgehampton, Long Island. These are the heroes of Groton Heights. "These are the names, the immortal names, that were not born to die." The men that day who chose to save their property, or from a safe distance on the heights and hills beyond, to watch the unequal conflict, have long been forgotton. They have met the common fate. "The places that once knew them, know them no more forever." But how tenderly, how proudly are the names of Ledyard's valiant band cherished in the hearts of the people. Death has no power over them. Generations shall come and go and be forgotten, this monument shall totter and fall and mingle again with the soil; conflagration may sweep off yonder city and its site become the camping ground of savage hordes; revolution may overthrow the Government and the Republic may be destroyed; yea, the ocean may waste the shore and the sea again claim the continent for its bed, but History on ever during tablets shall record their valor, their patriotism and their sufi'erings. To the impudent demand of the British officer Col, Ledyard sent back word that "he would defend the fort to the last," and Capt. Beckwith returned with the flag to headquarters. While this was going on Arnold had gained the heights back of New London. The gunners of Fort Griswold were throwing shot across the river into Fort Trumbull and sub- jecting the English on the hills an outskirts of the town to a galling fire. 14 It was now between u and 12 o'clock. Arnold stood on the tomb of the Winthrops in the old burial ground, and with his field glass surveyed the scene. What conflict of emotion boiled in the uneasy breast of the arch traitor, as he cast his eye around the happy scene of his early life which he was now ravishing with sword and torch we may not know. But what he thought it would cost his army to take Fort Griswold from Col. Ledyard and his little company of farmers and sailor boys he has not left us to doubt. In liis report to Sir Henry Clinton, he says: "on my gaining a height of ground in the rear of New London, from which I had a good pros- pect of Fort Griswold, I found it much more formidable than I expected, or than I had formed an idea of, from the informa- tion 1 had received. I observed at the same time that the men who had escaped from Fort Trumbull, had crossed the river in boats and had thrown themselves into Fort Griswold. I immediately dispatched a boat with an officer to Lieutenant Colonel Eyre to countermand my first order to attack the fort, but the officer arrived a few minutes too late. Lieutenant Col. Eyre had sent Capt. Bcckwith to demand the surrender of the fort which was peremptorily refused, and the attack had commenced. After a most obstinate defence of forty minutes the fort was carried by the superior bravery and per- severance of the battalions." It was the hour of noon. The battle had begun. Colonel Eyre led one regiment and Major Montgomery the other to the assault. Eyre formed his line behind Packer's Rocks, Montgomery deployed his to the north. And so, with gleam- ing guns and nodding plumes, tliey extend a long and fiery wave from north to south and fill the held. With shouts and yells thoy rend the air; over walls and rocks, over fields of ripening corn, through upland pastures on they come like mad men. As when a rocky headland in the sea projects its front against tlie north-east storm and beats the assaulting oc-ean into spray, so Ledyard and his patriot band transported into courage such as heroes feel, received the British files and beat them back. Time would fail me to tell how Capt. Elias Halsey with an eightccn-pounder, at one discharge, swept twenty red coats down; how Capt. Shapley wounded Colonel Eyre; how Jordan Freeman, Ledyard's colored man, ran a boat pike through brave Mongomery, as he broke over the north-east bastion, and he tell lifeless back; how Stephen Hempstead with his pike, his left arm being wounded, cleared a breach ; how Samuel Edgcomb raised great cannon balls and smote the assailants in the ditch below : how Park Avery in the hottest of the fight, cheered his son a lad of seventeen and the next moment saw him bite the dust ; how Helton Allyn, a gentle, pious boy, fell on the ramparts and went up to heaven. With gun stocks, pikes and canon balls, they fought in hand to hand encounter, one against five. Arnold's Report describes in official language what happened. He saj^s, "the troops approached on three sides of the work, which was a square with flankers, made a lodgement in the ditch, and under a heavy fire which they kept up on the works, eifected a second lodgement upon the fraizing, which was attended with great difficulty, as only a few pickets could be forced out or broken in a place, and was so high that the soldiers could not ascend without assisting each' other. Here the coolness and bravery of the troops was very conspicuous, as the first who ascended the fraise were obliged to silence a nine-pounder, which enfiladed the place upon which they stood until a sufficient body had collected to enter the works, which was done with fixed bayonets through the embrazures, where they were opposed with great obstinacy by the garrison with long spears." The punishment and loss of the British was now completed. The dead, the dying and the wounded that lay in the ditches and fields around, were the work of the stout hearted little garrison. Who and how many they were, we learn from Arnold's returns^ "i major, i ensign, 2 sergeants, and 44 rank and file, killed ; i lieutenant colonel, 3 captains, 2 lieutenants, 2 ensigns, 8 sergeants, 2 drumniers, and 127 rank and file, wounded." Total 193 — thirty-three more than there were in the garrison. Surely our brave sires were not the only sufferers that 6th day of September, 1781 ! Major Mont- gomery had a mother and sisters, those British captains had 16 wives and children, and quite as many English homes as Gro- ton and New London homes went into mourning because of that fated day. When Eyre had fallen and Montgomery was killed, their two highest officers in command, the enemy seem to have be- come discouraged with their losses. Stephen Hempstead says, ''they had attacked twice with great vigor and were repulsed with equal firmness" — but now just at this point a luckless shot cut the halyards of the flag and it fell to the ground. "This accident." he says, "proved fatal to us, as the enemy sup- posed it had been struck by its defenders, rallied again, and rushing with redoubled impetuosity, carried the south-west bastion by storm. Until this moment our loss was trifling in number, being six or seven killed, and eighteen wounded." Could the battle have stopped before that flag fell, we should have met to day with lighter hearts, we should have come together to celebrate a second Battle of New Orleans, or rather the first. Groton Heights instead of an high altar on the earth bathed with sacrificial blood, would have become a field of victory, a plain of triumph. For the sake of England, we could wish the story ended here; but for the sake of America, let us thank Heaven that our liberties were secured at such a cost, that we can never lightly esteem them. Let us return thanks that we have no occasion for vain glorying, but rather for undying gratitude that our fathers here illustrated not only heroic valor but also heroic self sacrifice. Through all the years there come to us from this hill no murmurs, no com- plaints. Like soldiers they fought, like martyrs they fell. The work of the garrison was now done, brave soldier work, never yet excelled on any battle field. The assailants carried the south-west bastion, they crossed the parade and unbarred the gates. Colonel Ledyard had ordered his men to cease firing and stood in his place near the gates. Captain Beckwith the flag bearer was one of the first to enter. A British officer (probably Beckwith) shouted "Who commands this fort.''" Colonel Ledyard replied, "I did, sir, but you do now," at the same time stepping forward, and presenting his sword with the point toward himself. His sword was thrust 17 back through him by the hand that received it, and he fell prone on the earth. This was the signal of indiscriminate slaughter, and the common soldiers crossed the parade ground in platoons firing on the defenseless garrison, who had ground- ed their arms. With the bayonet they killed thrice over'those who were already dead. Blood flowed over all the area and hid the greensward. They trod in blood. There was blood in the magazine and in the barracks, blood was on the plat- forms, blood was everywhere. Out of one hundred and thirty able bodied men when the Brittish troops entered, they left scarce twenty able to stand upon their feet. There they lay in heaps fallen one upon another, as brave a band as fought with Leonidas at Thermopyle. Without the uniforms of soldiers but with all the valor of veterans. But let us turn from these distressing thoughts, nor any longer seek to disclose the outrages of that day. It is enough for us to know that the victor did not remain to enjoy his triumph. With sun set Arnold gathered up his wounded (the dead English soldiers having been buried on this hill where they fell) and taking with him seventy prisoners, (the wounded being paroled,) reembarked and set sail for New York with his fleet of thirty-two vessels. All the boasts of the Tory papers of that day could illy conceal the chagrin and sense of loss which the royalists felt over this accursed expedition. Sir Henry Clinton in his "General Orders" respecting it, made no attempt to disguise his feelings. He says: "Brigadier General Benedict Arnold having reported to the Commander-in-chief the success of the expedition against New London on the 6th inst.. His Excellenc}' has the pleasure of signifying to the army the high sense he entertains of the very distinguished merit of the corps employed upon that service. But whilst he draws the greatest satisfaction from the ardor of the troops which enabled them to carry by assault, a work of such strength as Fort Griswold is reputed to be, he cannot hut lament with the deepest co?icern the heavy loss in officers ^nd men sustained by the 40th and 54th regiments, who had the honor of the attack." 18 But as deplorable and costly as this aflfair was to the British, as a strategic movement it was an utterfailure. In the language of Charles Botta, the historian, "this expedition was, on their part, but a piratical inroad, absolutely without utility. In vain did they endeavor to make a great noise with their march, and their bloody executions in Connecticut; Washington scarcely deigned to notice it. Unshaken in his prior de- signs, he knew perfectly that whoever should triumph at Yorktown would have decided the whole campaign in his favor. Instead, therefore, of sending troops into Connecticut, he drew them all into Virginia. Of the two attempts made to succor Cornwallis, (the naval battle, and the diversion against New London,) neitht'r Iiad obtained its obie('t." On Grotoii Heights I wiilkcd iiloiic, The sun was .m'oinj;- down, A nioUow nuliiinc'c round nic slionc, And biitlu'd Uio liill and town, * And liUo this niullo\v/;v liti'lit appears 'I'lui memory of a hundred years. Here where I stand the heroes stood, A liundred years a»'o ; "Far east tlie same green I'lJlUni;' wood, The sanu' lair title below ; And there tlie Sound so full and l>hu', Hefleetinji; henvou's sereiuu hue. All ! was it thus the eve before Tliat fatal morninj;' rose? Were there such murmers from tlu^ shore V Was there tlie soft repose y It was a sweeter, lovlier seeue, iOre due dark shadow eame between. 1 tread iqion a battle hill. On sternly saered ground, And it has nu)re to make me thrill, Thau all that lies around ; For what are laud, and sea, and skills, To valor shown, and sacrillee? Say when h;is history writ a di'ed More brave, nu)re true, more' slrongV Of Sjiarta we've no further need, To niorali/e a song. Since Ledyaid and his patriot band StoiMl like a eoast to uuai-d the land. 19 111 .sciilU'ivd i;i-avoy tlic licroi's sk'L'ii Hy river, pond and wood, Their pircious dust tlic valloyt^ kw[>, Tlu'ir blood tliis liill cnibrucd. Iniuiortalis ! wlioroso'er tlioy lie 'riicy live wluni t;eiiei'atioiis die. Pcrhaiis wc I'hildron may lori;'ivo— Fcrluips wo liavo. foigivcn — The eauseless crime, but if, to strive The nation should be driven, ^^i- Tlien, with the British on lht\^lleit;hts We'll set a shameful wronj^' to rig'hts. /VDDRESS By LEONARD WOOLSEY BACON, of Norwich. Fellow Citizens : In the course of the successive annual celebrations of the tragedy once enacted on this height, we are drawing near to its centennial anniversary. It is natural that our thoughts should run forward to the completion of the century, and that this celebration and the next should seem to be hardly more than preliminary and preparatory to the more worthy cele- bration which will surely commemorate the great martyrdom of American patriotism when the full round of one hundred years shall have been accomplished on the 6th of September, 1881. As we await the completion of the century, it is instructive to turn back to the period just a hundred years ago from now— the period two years before the storm of massacre and conflagration broke over the estuary of the Thames, while the clouds by which it was engendered were still brooding in the West and beginning to roll up toward the zenith. If we can tell the story of 1779 and 1780, so as to set forth the cir. cumstances that were working on toward so tragic a catastro- phe, we shall have prepared the way for the poet and orator who shall be thought worthy to rehearse once more the story of 1 78 1 to the third and fourth generation from the actors and sufferers therein. Two facts, illustrated to the eye, must be held as characteristic of the State of Connecticut in its relation to the War of Independence. The first is that bloodiest and most atrocious 22 deed of all the war, which is commemorated by the lofty obelisk beside us. The other is that this should be the only battle-monument within tile boundaries of the State — that Connecticut should be a State without battle-fields of a later date than the war of self-defense against the Pequot savages. The only exception, if it can be called an exception, is that of the skirmish at Danbury in 1777, and the invasion of New Haven in 1779. These instances are the only ones in the history of Connecticut for two hundred years, in which the armed force of an enemy has remained over night upon her soil. These two facts, that Connecticut should possess the scene of the most atrocious and malignant massacre of the war, and that she should possess no other battle-field, are facts that stand in significant relation to each other, and a relation that is in the highest degree honorable to the State. It was the very fact that the whole of her little territory was so loyal to liberty that oppression could never get a foothold here, — the fact that her whole resources of men and material were freely employed, not in self-defense, but in advancing the cause of, freedom outside of her own boundaries, through gallant deeds by land and sea, that instigated the invader and the tory to a special malignity of revenge, in the few brief and stealthy blows which they were able to deliver at the more exposed points of her seaboard. It is a grand thing to be able to point to monuments like those at Concord and Bunker Hill, to historic fields like those of Monmouth and Saratoga. But rightly understood, it is a far nobler thing to point, as Connecticut can, to a terri- tory without a battle-field, and for its solitary battle-monument to this silent witness to the unsurpassed heroism of her sons, and the unequalled ferocity of her enemies, in the war for the national independence. The chief origin of this distinction of Connecticut is doubt- less to be found in the fact that, alone of all the thirteen colonies, she entered into the struggle for independence com- plete, with lier governor and council and the whole machinery of the colonial government. In Connecticut, there never was a revolutionary war. In other colonies there was more or less of revolution. Existing authorities, having proved false to the people, had to be supplanted, and provisional governments, extemporized for the emergency, erected in their stead. We in Connecticut fought through a war not of revolution but of conservation — not for the achieving of new liberties but for the defense of the old. And this fact gave a solid strength to her resistance to British intrusions, which was impossible to the other colonies, burdened by the incubus of royal govern- ors, affected more or less by the social influence of their petty courts, divided, consequently, in some measure, into two parties, patriot and loyalist, and more or less disorganized by the sudden necessity of reconstructing their governmental machinery. It is not claiming too much for Connecticut to say that it was the principal base of supplies for the national cause, and that the grandest figure, next to Washington him- self, among all the heroes of that heroic age, is the figure of the Puritan governor, Jonathan Trumbull, *^Brother Jonathan." A day's ride to the north of us, beside the broad village street of ancient Lebanon, was the little store and counting- room that are justly designated in local tradition as the "War Office" of the War of Independence. Here was the commis- sariat ©n which again and again the famishing army of Washington drew the supplies that saved it and the country. It was natural enough that the strenuous patriot who was wielding all the resources of his State with such splendid energy and efficiency for the American cause should be made the object of peculiar spite, such as manifested itself in the offering of a price for his head : and it was not less obvious that the superb seaport, unsurpassed on all the coast for its natural advantages, through which the military stores and forces of Connecticut found their readiest outlet, should be regarded with jealous detestation by the adherents of the royal cavise. But this share in the general distinguished patriotism of the little commonwealth was not the only thing that provoked the peculiar malice of the British and their partisans towards the towns at the mouth of the Thames. A jealousy of the commercial enterprise and prosperity of our chief seaports had provoked from that quarter no small expressions of 24 delight at the death-blow to the sea-faring interest that had been dealt by the outbreak of the war. Never was exultation more misplaced. The expert mariners nurtured in the com- merce and fisheries of this great harbor, thrown out of their customary employment, became soon an intolerable scourge to the pride of the mistress of the seas. The swarms of tory plundering boats that ran out from the coves of Long Island to infest the Connecticut coast with petty raids and cattle- stealing expeditions, provoked the most energetic and effectual reprisals. Perhaps it is safe to say that the headquarters of the privateering warfare, as well as of the little State vessels equipped and armed under the direction of the tireless Gov- ernor Trumbull, that were the beginning of the splendid naval history of America, were here in the Thames. The swift, alert little craft scourged the tory depredators from Long Island back to their hiding places, and inflicted such injury on the supply-ships and merchant-ships that sailed under the enemy's flag, as to compel no small part of the naval strength of the greatest maritime power in the world to waste itself in patrolling Long Island Sound, looking up the Thames in passing to see the aggravating Yankee vessels scudding vip stream where His Majesty's ships would have found it unsafe tofollowthem. Vigilance like this could represstheannoyance in some measure, and so it did in the years 1777 and '78; for in those years the maritime losses of New London were heavy and the gains comparatively light.* But when 1779 came in, the fortune of war turned again, and the 'wharves of the harbor were soon crowded with prizes, armed and unarmed, lying under the guns of Forts Trumbull and Griswold, and the warehouses were stuffed with their cargoes, ready to be applied to the uses of Col. Jeremiah Wadsworth's commissariat. Is there any wonder, now, that with all these motives of exasperation and of policy working in combination on the mind of the enemy — with a State solid for liberty and pouring *So great was the vigilance of the British squadron on the coast, that between the summer of 1776 and that of 1778, not a single prize was brought Into the harbor of New London." — Miss Ccmlki/is^ Histonj of New London, p. 544. It is difficult fully to reconcile this statement of a most careful and painstaking writer, with the facts detailed In Stuart's Life of Governor Trumbull.— ^^. 347 — 350. K^L^ 'd ,tf 25 into the common treasury of the nation's cause her resources of life and material with a magnificent but exhausting liberality to which the experience of our generation affords no paral- lel — with a patriot governor, the only such officer in all the colonies, whose position and patriotism and calm genius for public business made him the bridle-hand of the young nation, as Washington was its sword-hand, with a sea and river front alive with mariners driven from their customary peaceful pur- suits, and ready and eager to punish the depredations of the invader and the traitor, and with this splendid harbor holdino- tlie spoil of the high seas and of the Sound, and the stores and warehouses filled with materials that had been turned over froin the cause of oppression to that of independence — is there any wonder, I say, that a hundred years ago, about the year 1779, there should be a daily consciousness of peril in the minds of the dwellers on the Thames, from the tremendous maritime strength of the invading power, and that they should look from time to time, with anxious solicitude, to the condi- tion of the forts on either side of the river, with their scanty equipment and still more scanty garrisons.* It is impossible but that the misgiving must sometimes liave crept into men's minds whether they had done wisely to strip their own State of its wealth and of its men to help in distant fields, and leave their own homes so naked to the vengeance of the enemy. + It is a splendid proof of the large-minded and unselfish patriotism of our fathers, that such a thought seems never once to find expression in all their documents, still less in any of their doings. The spirit of Connecticut was the same in 1780 as in i860, — a spirit of love for the whole country and not for her own corner of it. But now, in this year 1779, there comes an additional peril to the towns along this strip of seaboard ; for now at last the policy of rapine and devastation is openly adopted as a part *]t V at^ iibout this time (just after the bnriiiiig of Fairfield and Norwalli;! that TruiulxiU. piovidiu;.' for a rendezi^oiis of troop.s at New London, described it as a post "not to be left naked for a day." — Stuart\-< Life. 2>. 443. f'This town has been drained of men already, so that there is scarcely a sufliciency of hands left to get in the harvest." J>athaniel Shaw. Jr.. to Governor Trumbull. Aug. "7tli, 1(7(5. Quoted by Miss Caulkins, p. 521. 26 of the British strategy. The pretense, long kept up to their own imagination, that they were the protectors of America from a conspiracy of insurgents, and the restorers of law and government, is completely abandoned by the invaders, and they confess that they mean to deal with their late subjects as alien enemies. And in what spirit of savage cruelty British soldiers are capable of dealing with an alien enemy, there are many other and more recent witnesses than Groton Heights and Wyoming. The transition to this policy is to be dated from the year 1779, when the ripening of the French alliance gave warning to the British leaders both at home and in the field to make up their minds that their American colonies were not only free from their control, but that they would pass into relations of amity with the ancient and hereditary enemies of England. Then it was that the British commander in New York resolved that what he could not hold for the advantage of the British crown should be so spoiled and laid waste as to be useless to any other power. ^' As the armament of the tory Tryon tainted the western breeze, during that summer of 1779, with the smoke of burning New Haven and Fairfield and Norwalk, the only wonder to the people of Eastern Connecticut was that New London and Groton instead of being spared had not been the first victims. But the preparations of history for this catastrophe were not yet complete. It seemed as if the dramatis personae were not ready for their parts. The heroes, indeed, were not wanting; but there was no one ready and competent for the part of the chief villain of the plot. And it seemed as if History must wait until this role could be suitably filled. Now when a villain or knave is wanted, there has never yet appeared to be any lack of capacity in Connecticut to produce *The policy as well as benevolence of Great Britain have thus far checked the extremes of war. But when America jn-ofesses the unnatural design not only of estranging herself from us, .but of mortgaging herself to our enemies, the whole contest is changed, and the question is, how far Great Britain may, by any means in her power destroy and render use- less a connection contrived for her ruin, and for the aggnindizemeut of France." Procla- mation to tlie colonies, 1778. "Keep the coasts of the enemy constantly alarmed. Destroy their ships and magazines. Prevent the rebels from becoming cifoi-mMable mantinie poiver, and obstructing the commerce of his Majesty's subjects," &c. — Lord George Germain to Sir Henry Clinton, 1779. 27 him. This soil, that is the birthplace of heroes from the beginning, has shown that it is not incapable of bringing- forth the opposite. The deep and fertile earth that rears great forest trees for glory and for pleasant shade, sends up shoots of noxious weeds also, the fetid narcotics, the poison ivy and the poison sumach. There are no heroes in history more heroic than the heroes of Connecticut birth and lineage; and there are no traitors viler and meaner than Connecticut traitors. And this was' just as true a hundred years ago as it was eighteen years ago. If the country needs a colossal statue of treason to vent its execi'ations on, to set up as a lesson of warning and detestation for future generations, it finds the material for it in the same quarries of primeval granite from which the Roman features of Trumbull and the chivalrous head of Ledyard are carved for immortal fame. The only man in America wholly worthy to be the leader in the deed of infamy on Groton Heights, was, one hundred years ago, in 1779, perhaps the most brilliant officer in the continental army. In the greatest pitched battle that had yet been fought on this continent, and the battle attended with the greatest results, it was not so much the fine generalship of Gates, that drew the admiring gaze of the army and the nation, as the magnificent daring, the splendid fury- of General Arnold of Connecticut. As he limped away on his wounded leg from that victorious field, there was real danger that the known vices of his character would be lost from view in the lurid glare of his martial bravery, and that this base man, who never was any thing else than base, would become, among all the conspicuous figures of the war, the one eminent object of popular admiration and imitation. The treason that saved us from that calamity was a blessing to the nation in all its generations. The best use to which such a man as Arnold can be put, — a brilliant man, patriotic from considerations of expediency, and when expediency seems to take the other side a patriot no longer — the only good use that the country has for such a man is to set him in the pillory of public scorn, and teach each new generation of growing boys to abhor him. And that is the use that we put Benedict Arnold to, to-day. 28 A hundred years ago to-day, as I have said, Arnold was the most brilliant officer in the continental service. A hundred years ago next September, he was a traitor, in disgrace, fleeing from the sight of honorable and patriotic men, and loathed and abhorred even by those who had bought him and paid for him and were ready to use him on the base business, unworthy of the name of war, to which they had now resolved to stoop. At last it seemed that History had completed her dramatic preparations, and the curtain was ready to rise on a scene of slaughter. Only a brief rehearsal of his part, by the burning of Richmond and the devastation of other parts of Virginia, and Arnold is ready when September comes round again, one year from the date of his treason, to disembark from a British ship in the bright daylight of the morning of September Gth, 1 78 1, with his band of foreign incendiaries and assassins, and take his stand on the tomb of the Winthrops, to direct the de- struction of the town and the slaughter of his fellow-citizens and neighbors. There is a curious superficial resemblance to be observed between the battle of Groton Heights and the battle of Bunker Hill. In each case, there was the storming of a hill-top fort by a vastly superior force of regular troops against a scanty garrison of untrained militia- In each case the successful storm was accompanied by the burning of the neighboring town. In each case the military defeat is commemorated by a granite obelisk, and the memory of it is cherished proudly as more precious than the memory of many victories. It may even be said that the likeness runs deeper than these outside circumstances, and that as the brave fighting ot the farmers on Bunker , Hill committed the people to the commencement of the war, so the more heroic suffering and dying of the martyrs of Groton Height made it thenceforth impossible so much as to think of the compromises and concessions which already again and again the British government had been offering to the American people on condition of their renewed allegiance. If ever, in the discouragements, and the inexpressible exhaus- tion and distress of this protracted war, the people had been ready to yield the great issue of Independence, the folly and 20 wickedness of the enemy himself had been God's instrument for the deliverin^y the land from that peril. After the death of I.edyard and his neighbors, there could be no end of the war but in victory. The victory was not far away, indeed ; for the glory of Yorktown was nigh at hand. But there was need, nevertheless for the horror of Groton Heights. The blood of all these martyrs was not spilled in vain.* As I have traced the tragical records of the massacre of Groton Height, and goiie through the roster of "the embattled farmers" who died within this bloody inclosure, and their associates in the great struggle, the thing that more than any other has made the story real and vivid before my eyes has been the old family names, still extant and familiar in this region, to show that the sons of those sires still hold the soil their fathers died in defending. I read on the roll of the dead the name of Nathan Sholes, and cannot help thinking of the man with the steadiest arm and the surest rifle last Sep- tember on the camp-ground of the Third Regiment at Niantic. I come elsewhere upon the name of Joe Huribut, and immedi- ately I think of the pale New London bo)^ who divided with his fellow townsman and classmate Branclegee the highest hon- ors of our college class at Vale, but whose peaceful laurels were laid with him in the early grave in which he sleeps in Christian hope. I come again upon the ncunQoi Marvin Wait, and wonder to think how well the heroism of a hundred years ago was reproduced in our own time under the same name, in the person of the chivalrous young soldier of Norwich. When I read the record of the doughty service and the ingenious persistency, of that ancient mariner Jeremiah Halsey, it is *The Plan of Conciliation of Lord North was submitted to I^arliament in February, 1778. and sent to America in April of the same year. Even so early in the war, it was answered to these proposals, as in the noble letter of Governor Trumbull to the tory Tryon ; * * * * "the barbarous inhumanity which has marked the prosecution of the war on your part in its several stages : the insolence which displays itself on every petty advantage : the cruelties which have been exercised on those unhappy men whom the fortune of ^var has thrown into your hands : all these are inseparable bars to the very idea of concluding a peace with Great Britain on anv other conditions than the most perfect and absolute independence." — Stuarts Life. p. 40ti In like tenor, but with greater asperity General Persons answered other overtures of Tryon. after the Imniinu- of Fairfield and Norwalk, 1779. See his letter in Hollister"s History of Connecticut, vol. ii, p. 379 How this feeling was intensified by the Groton Massacre is nowhere so touchingly and eloquently shown as in the rude epitaphs of the victims scat- tered among the neighboring graveyards, and transcribed in Mr. Harris's admirable memo- rial pamphlet. 30 impossible not to think how some of his qualities are still shining at the front of the New London County bar, and winning victories of peace, not less renowned. But it is a still more striking illustration of the soundness of the stock and the genuineness of the pedigree, when we see the martyr name of Ledyard borne by his nearest kinsman in the very front of the pioneers of African Exploration and the great- grandson of Col. McClellan the commander of New London harbor, flinging the thunderbolts that pierced the hostile lines at Antietam. O fellow-citizen of Connecticut, and especially, O men of Groton, children of these martyred heroes, be proud of the stock from which you are descended — proud with that worthy and honest pride which shall lead you to emulate the virtues of the race from which you are sprung! You do well to build your school-house in the shadow of this lofty obelisk, and to let this arena of the bloody struggle be trodden year by year in the happy sports of boys and girls. But think what shame it were before the world, if the children of such ances- tors should prove recreant to their glorious name .'' Think what a legacy of glory and ennobling responsibility has come down to you, to be kept and handed dovi^n unimpaired and enhanced to your children after you! "Guard well yonr trust — The faith that dared the sea. The truth that made them free, Their cherished purity, Their s-arnered dust!" ijSi. Septembee^ 6th. 1881. THE Battle of Groton Heights; The Massacre of Fort Griswold; — AND — The Burning of Ngw London. HISTORICAL SKETCH BY JOHN J. COPP, ESQ., OF GROTON ADDRESS BY LEONARD WOOLSEY BACON, OF NORWICH, The Ninety-Eighth Anniversary, Sept. 6th, 1879. '•If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms— never, never, never.'''' "Yon cannot, my lords, ijow cannot conquer America.'''' — Lord Chatham. Published by authority of The Groton Heights Centennial Committee. December. ISTQ. ^^ aai - ^^ - « * o , '^J G" A ' - „ » ^<« ' • * ' ^^" . u . » '-^o .^ .0"-=. . ^^ ^. ^^ *. 1/ '-. v^*, ^^°^ :: 4°-« A^ V. ''«'^* ^"^ O^ "oho- ,v r^ " • * * A ^^'\ ^1 [i\ . ST. AUGUSTINE "^^ ; '^^ A^ ^V