|At the time of the burning of New London, in Connecticut, a detachment
of the army of the traitor Arnold was directed to attack Fort Griswold,
at Groton, on the opposite side of the river. This fort was little more
than a rude embankment of earth, thrown up as a breast-work for the
handful of troops it surrounded, with a strong log-house in the centre.
The garrison defending it, under the command of the brave Colonel
Ledyard, was far inferior to the force of the assailants; but the
gallant spirits of the commander and his men could not brook the thought
of retreat before a marauding enemy, without an effort at resistance.
They refused to yield, and stood their ground, till, overwhelmed by
numbers, after a fierce and bloody encounter, hand to hand, with the
foe, it was found to be impossible to maintain the post. No mercy was
shown by the conquerors--the noble Ledyard was slain in the act of
surrender, with the sword he had placed in the hand of the commander
of the assailants--and after an indiscriminate butchery, such of the
prisoners as showed signs of life, were thrown into a cart, which heaped
with mangled bodies, were started down a steep and rugged hill towards
the river.
The course of the cart being interrupted by stones and logs, the victims
were not precipitated into the water; and, after the enemy had been
driven off by the roused inhabitants of the country, friends came to the
aid of the wounded, and several lives were preserved. Their sufferings
before relief could be obtained, were indescribable. Thirty-five men,
covered with wounds and blood, trembling with cold, and parched with
thirst, lay all night upon the bare floor, almost hopeless of succor,
and looking to death as a deliverance from intolerable anguish. With the
first ray of morning came a ministering angel to their aid--one who bore
a name imperishably connected with the event--Miss Fanny Ledyard--a
near relative of the commander who had been so barbarously murdered.
She brought warm chocolate, wine, and other refreshments; and while
Dr. Downer of Preston was dressing their wounds, she went from one
to another, administering her cordials, and breathing into their ears
gentle words of sympathy and encouragement. In these labors of
kindness she was assisted by another relative of the lamented Colonel
Ledyard--Mrs. John Ledyard--who had also brought her household stores to
refresh the sufferers, and lavished on them the most soothing
personal attentions. The soldiers who recovered from their wounds were
accustomed, to the day of their death, to speak of these ladies in terms
of fervent gratitude and praise.
The morning after the massacre at Fort Griswold, a young woman, now Mrs.
Anna Bailey, left her home, three miles distant, and came in search of
her uncle, who had joined the volunteers on the first alarm of invasion,
and was known to have been engaged in the disastrous conflict. He was
among those wounded unto death. His niece found him in a house near the
scene of slaughter, where he had shared the attention bestowed on the
rest. His wounds had been dressed, but it was evident that he could
bear no further removal, and that life was fast departing. Still perfect
consciousness remained, and with dying energy he entreated that he might
once more behold his wife and child.
Such a request was sacred to the affectionate and sympathizing girl. She
lost no time in hastening home, where she caught and saddled the horse
used by the family, placed upon the animal the delicate wife, whose
strength could not have accomplished so long a walk; and taking the
child herself, bore it in her arms the whole distance, and presented it
to receive the blessing of its expiring father.
With pictures of cruelty like the scene at Groton fresh in her
recollection, it is not surprising that Mrs. Bailey, during the
subsequent years of her life, has been noted for bitterness of feeling
towards the ancient enemies of her country. She was emphatically a
daughter of the Revolution, and in those times of trial was nourished
the ardent love of her native land for which she has ever been
distinguished, and the energy and resolution which in later days
prompted the patriotic act that has made her name so celebrated as "the
heroine of Groton." This act was performed in the last war with Great
Britain. On the 13th July, 1813, a British squadron appearing off New
London harbor, an attack, evidently the enemy's object, was momentarily
expected. The most intense excitement prevailed among the crowds
assembled on both sides of the river, and the ancient fort was again
manned for a desperate defence. In the midst of the preparations for
resistance, it was discovered that there was a want of flannel to make
the cartridges. There being no time to cross the ferry to New
London, Mrs. Bailey proposed appealing to the people living in the
neighborhood--went herself from house to house to make the collections,
and took even a garment from her own person to contribute to the stock.
*
* A graphic account of this incident, and of "Mother Bailey," appeared
in the Democratic Review for January, 1847. But as a piece of historical
justice, it is due to this heroine to state that she defies having used
the coarse and profane expression there attributed to her. The highly
intelligent lady residing in New London, who received the particulars I
have mentioned from Mrs. Bailey's own lips, also says that she has never
claimed the credit of being among those who ministered to the wants of
the wounded, after the massacre at Fort Griswold.
This characteristic instance of enthusiasm in the cause of her country,
with the impression her remarkable character has produced, has acquired
for her a degree of popularity, which brings many curious visitors, from
time to time, to see and converse with the heroine of whom they have
heard so much, and to look at her museum of Revolutionary relics.
Her maiden name was Anna Warner, and she married Captain Elijah Bailey,
of Groton. She is still living, in her eighty-ninth year, in the
possession of her mental faculties, able to describe the scenes of
hardship and peril in which she shared in the nation's infancy, and
still glowing with the ardent feelings of love to America and hatred to
America's foes, which have given a coloring to her life.
The following extract from Butler's "History of Groton," may show that
the women of Massachusetts were not behind their sisters of other States
in patriotic daring.
"The patriotism of the women in those times 'which tried men's souls,'
must not be passed over in silence. After the departure of Colonel
Prescott's regiment of 'minute-men,' Mrs. David Wright of Peppered, Mrs.
Job Shattuck of Groton, and the neighboring women, collected at what
is now Jewett's Bridge, over the Nashua, between Pepperell and Groton,
clothed in their absent husbands' apparel, and armed with muskets,
pitchforks, and such other weapons as they could find; and having
elected Mrs. Wright their commander, resolutely determined that no foe
to freedom, foreign or domestic, should pass that bridge. For rumors
were rife, that the regulars were approaching, and frightful stories of
slaughter flew rapidly from place to place, and from house to house.
"Soon there appeared one * on horseback, supposed to be treasonably
engaged in conveying intelligence to the enemy. By the implicit command
of Sergeant Wright, he is immediately arrested, unhorsed, searched,
and the treasonable correspondence found concealed in his boots. He was
detained prisoner, and sent to Oliver Prescott, Esq., of Groton, and his
despatches were sent to the Committee of Safety."
* "Captain Leonard Whiting, of Hollis, N. H., a noted tory. He was in
reality the bearer of despatches from Canada to the British in Boston.
An article was some time after inserted in a warrant for town meeting:
'To see what the town will vote or order to be paid to Mr. Solomon
Rogers, for entertaining Leonard Whiting and his guard.' Not acted
upon."
The worthy author of the History of Groton has omitted, in his account
of this transaction, one of the most important and characteristic
particulars, which I cannot, as a faithful chronicler, neglect
to notice, having received it on the authority of America's most
distinguished historian. The officer thus taken prisoner, being a
politic gentleman, and probably somewhat experienced in the tactics of
gallantry, endeavored, when thus arrested and disarmed, to win his way
by kissing his fair captors. But they were proof against his arts as
well as his arms.
It is not generally known that Joel Barlow--the poet, philosopher and
politician, the author of the Columbiad and other works--owed much of
the formation of his mind and character to the wife of his elder brother
Aaron. Much of his time in early life was spent in the society of his
sister-in-law, who was a woman of strong mind, and united the qualities
of gentleness and resolute firmness. Her residence was at Redding,
Connecticut, in the south part of the town, called by the Indian name of
"Umpawag," which it still retains. The country is much broken, and the
ground almost entirely covered with stones; yet the soil was rich enough
to reward the labor of the husbandman, and for some years after their
marriage the young couple lived there in comfort. When the stirring
scenes of the Revolution commenced, both were called to act their part.
The husband entered the army in the service of his country, and in a
short time was promoted to the rank of colonel. His military duties
required long absences from home, and the young wife was left to
take the entire charge of her helpless little ones. The courage and
resolution she displayed, in the midst of many trials, moved the
admiration of those who knew her, and presented an example which ought
to be recorded for the benefit of her countrymen. No feminine fears were
strong enough to prevent the calm discharge of her duty to her family.
At one time a rumor came that the British army was approaching and
would probably reach Umpawag that very night. The terrified inhabitants
resolved on instant flight, and each family, gathering together such
of their effects as they could take with them, quitted the village, and
were travelling nearly the whole night to reach a place of refuge from
the enemy. Mrs. Barlow could not carry away her children, and to leave
them was out of the question; she therefore remained to protect them,
or share their fate, being deserted by all her neighbors. No enemy,
however, was near; the groundless alarm having been caused by the firing
of some guns below.
At one time during the war, a brigade of the American troops under the
command of General Putnam, was quartered during the winter months at
Redding. The head-quarters of the General were in an old-fashioned
house, standing at some distance from the road, with a green lawn in
front. A lane led from this to the public highway. Nearly a quarter of
a mile distant, and parallel with this ancient mansion, stood the
residence of Colonel Barlow.
The story of Mrs. Barlow's heroism, in remaining alone in the village
when the attack from the British was apprehended, was of course told
to the bluff General, and gained his admiration for the intrepid young
mother. He also heard much of her fortitude amidst the privations to
which she was obliged to submit, of her gentle and courteous, though
retiring deportment, and her cheerful endurance of evils common to all,
which she hoped might result in the accomplishment of great good to her
country. It is said that, feeling a curiosity to make the acquaintance
of one whose character met with his strong approbation, he took a
stroll over the fields towards her house, on a frosty morning in
February--wearing the simple dress of a countryman--and made her a
visit; his ostensible errand being a neighborly request that Mrs. Barlow
would be kind enough to give or lend him a little yeast for a baking. *
* This incident is related by a descendant of Mrs. Barlow.
He entered the kitchen without ceremony, where the matron was busily
engaged in preparing breakfast, and stopping a moment to look at her,
asked for the yeast. But she had none to give, and told him so, each
time his request was repeated, without suspending her employment to
look at her visitor. It was not till after his departure, that she was
informed by her old black servant who it was, who had asked the favor
with such importunity.
"I suppose"--was her remark--"had I known him, I should have treated him
with rather more civility; but it is no matter now." And Putnam, who
had observed her cheerful countenance, and attention to her domestic
affairs, saw that she was of the proper material for the matrons of the
infant nation.
The house in which General Putnam had his head-quarters at this time,
was long celebrated on that account. It was taken down a few years
since, and a new and elegant mansion erected on the spot where it stood.
The inhabitants of Umpawag saw with regret what they could not but deem
the sacrilegious destruction of a dwelling so hallowed by association,
and rich with reminiscences of the early and glorious struggle of our
country for freedom--that a more costly edifice might be built on the
ground it occupied.
Rebecca Barlow was the daughter of Elnathan Sanford, of Redding, and was
born in the village where she resided after her marriage. A few years
after the war ended, Colonel Barlow, with his family, removed to Norfolk
in Virginia, where he subsequently fell a victim to the yellow fever.
The whole family suffered with the disease; and after the burial of her
husband and daughter, and the recovery of the others, the widow returned
to her former home at Umpawag. She died at an advanced age. Some of her
sons have rendered important services to their country as statesmen.
The youngest, Thomas, accompanied his uncle Joel, the Minister
Plenipotentiary at the Court of France, as his Secretary; and after the
death of Joel at Zarnovica, in the winter of 1812, escorted his wife,
who had been left in Paris, to America. The remains of the minister were
brought with them, and placed in the family vault at Washington.