YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

©
THE

CHAPLAINS AND CLERGY

THE REVOLUTION.

BY

J. T. HEADLET,
ATJTIIOB OF "WASHINGTON AND HIS GENEBALS," "NAPOLEON AND HIS
MARSHALS," ETC., ETC.

NEW YORK:
CHARLES SCRIBNER, 124 GRAND STREET.
1864.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861. by
Q. & F. BILL,
In £ne Clerk' a Office of tbe District Court of the United States tor the
District of Massachusetts.

Lb t^ ^o

ElECTEOTTKtD ET
SMITH & MoDOUQAL,
82 & 64 Beekman St.

PREFACE.

Ik writing the biographies of the chaplains and clergy
men who bore a prominent part in our revolutionary
struggle, I have thought proper to devote a few pages at
the outset to the influence of the pulpit as an institution.
In New England especially, which inaugurated the rebel
lion, and on which fell so heavily the burden of carrying
it forward, the pulpit was a recognized power in the
State, and its aid formally and earnestly invoked.
It was necessary to do this to carry out the entire ob
ject I had in view, which was not merely to give a series
of biographical sketches, but to exhibit the religious ele
ment — in other words, present the religious phase of the
Revolution. Individual clergymen might have been de
voted patriots, and rendered efficient service to their
country, and yet the pulpit as such deserve no more
prominent place in the struggle than the profession of
law or medicine because many of its members bore a
distinguished part in it. The clergy, however, wielded
a twofold power — as individuals and as representatives

IV PKKFACE.
of a profession which in New England dominated the
State. In writing the biographical sketches, I have restricted
myself almost exclusively to events and actions embraced
by the revolutionary period. This was necessary, not
only to give definiteness and unity to the work, but be
cause full biographies of some of the distinguished chap
lains would make separate volumes in themselves. Hence
I have not professed to write the life of any one individ
ual, but as far as I could obtain the facts, the revolutionary
history of all.
The details and incidents necessary to carry out this
design not being found in public documents, it will readily
occur to the reader that the most serious difficulties had
to be surmounted in obtaining them. I have had to rely
chiefly of course on family papers and traditions,' with
such additional items as I could pick up in my researches
among old pamphlets, letters, etc, found in antiquarian
societies. I mention this to explain the absence of all
references to authorities in the body of the work. To
have given the multifarious sources, Such as individuals,
letters, pamphlets, magazines, historical collections, etc.,
would have burdened the work with a vast amount of
useless matter. For some of the fuller sketches, Such as
Allen, Avery, Cotton Smith, Gano, Champion and Ker, I
have been indebted almost exclusively to the kindness of
the immediate descendants of these men. In others, in part

PREFACE. V
to family relatives of the chaplains, and in part to various
miscellaneous sources. For many of the shorter biogra
phies I am greatly indebted to Dr. Sprague's admirable
work, "The American Pulpit." "Without this I should
not have been able to give the birth, nativity, and date of
death of a large portion of those whose names will be en
tirely new to the reader. Of course many who ought to
be embraced in this collection are omitted, because I
could not obtain the facts necessary to make a biography.
In some cases the personal diaries, which would have
furnished these, have been lost by the families who once
had them in their possession — in others they having lived
only in tradition, have passed away with time, or are so
dimly remembered as to be comparatively valueless.
I have regretted especially that I could obtain nothing
satisfactory respecting the Lutheran Church, which ren
dered the country good service.
But notwithstanding the necessary incompleteness of
the work, I feel I have done something towards giving
the clergy and the pulpit, the place which they ought to
have in the history of the Revolution, and furnished a
book which will benefit the generation now rising into
manhood, by directing the mind not only to religious
influences, but to the great source of all national bless
ings, as well as to battle fields and the strong legions.
This diversion of the mind from armies to the God of
armies is especially needed in our present crisis. Enthu-

VI PREFACE.
siasm and numbers will not deliver us from the troubles
that now overwhelm us. Penitence and humility will go
farther than either, and whether the State turns as it did
in the Revolution to the Church as its strongest support
or not, we may rest assured, if its prayers do not save us,
whatever success we may achieve will in the end prove a
sad failure.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. PAQB
Religious Element of the Revolution. — Not sufficiently dwelt on by
Historians. — Influence and Action of Pastors. — Example in Stock-
bridge, Mass, — Interesting Scene  18
CHAPTER II.
Systematic Influence of the Clergy. — Election Sermons before the
Revolution. — Election Sermons a part of the Proceedings of the
Provincial Legislature. — Samuel Cook's Sermon's, 1770. — Mr. Tuck
er's, in 1771. — Charles Turner's, in 1T78.— Gad. Hitchcock's, in 1774.—
"Tub Tea Overboard." — President Langdon's, in 1775. — "Bunker
Hill, Monitions of the Coming Storm." — These Sermons the Political
Pamphlets of the Times  21
CHAPTER III.
Election Seemons, Preached after tiik Assembling of the Continental
Congress and Organization of Colonial Government, — Rev. Wm.
Gordon. — IUv. Samuel West, of Dartmouth, in 1776. — Bold Appeal. S5
CHAPTER IV.
Sermons during the War. — Sermon of Samuel Webster, in 1777. — Bold
and Patriotic Prayer. — Discourse of Phillip Payson, of Chelsea,
177S. — Eloquent Appeal. — Prophetic Vision  48
CHAPTER Y.
Personal Influence of the Clergy. — Appointments of Chaplains. — Cor
respondence brtwebn thk Ministers of Connecticut ani> Massachu
setts. — Tiiaxter, Foster and Payson fighting at Lexington and
Concord. — Washington asks Congress for Chaplains. — Number and
Names of, in the Army at Cambridge. — Washington's Second Letter
to Congress on tub Subject. — Hls Order respecting Chaplains. — David
Ely. — Joseph Fish. — Jonah Stearns. — John Mills. — David Caldwell.
— Thomab Read.— Robert Davidson. — Elizur Goodrich. — Wm. Gor-
uam.— John Steele. — Francis Cummings.— Azel Rob.— HkzekiahBalcii.
— ChablesNcKniqht. — Manasseh Cutler. — Nathan Strong. — Nathan
iel Porter.— Annie Robins. — John Cleveland. — Samuel McCltntock.
— Hezkkiau Ripley. — Isaac Lewis. — Dr. La-it a. — Dr. Armstrong  56
chapter vi.
Jonas Clark.— The Pastor of Lexington. — His Ministerial Life.— Early
Teachings. — Patriotic Conduct and Ability as a Statesman. — Han
cock and Adams find Refuge in nis House. — News of the Approach of
the Enemy. — II is Account of it. — Summoning of the Militia. — Scene
on the Green. — Approach of the Enemy. — The Slaughter. — Mr. Clark
among his slain Paeisuonebs. — His Feelings and Prediction  74
CHAPTER VII.
Jacob DucnE. — Opens the first Continental Congress with Prayer,—
John Adams's Description of the Scene. — Iiis Patriotic Sermons. —
Gives iiis Pay as Chaplain to the Families of those Slain in Battle.
— Becomes alarmed, and turns against his Country. — His Insulting
Letter to Washington. — Flees the Country. — His Return to Phila
delphia. — His Death. — Ilia Character  83

Till CONTENTS.
CHAPTER TUT. page
Samuel Spring, D.D. — His Early Life. — Becomes Chaplain in the Army.—
The only Chaplain in Arnold's Expedition across the Northern
Wilderness. — His Description of its Formation.— Preaches at New-
buryport to the Abmy. — Visits the Tomb of Whitfield. — Description
of the March through the Wilderness.— His Sufferings and Labors.
— Famine. — His Description of Shooting a Moose. — His Labors at
Point aux Trembles. — Storming Of Quebec. — He leads Arnold out
of the Fight. — Leaves the Army. — Settled at Newburyport. — His
Interview with Aaron Burr. — His Death  89
CHAPTER IX.
Ebenezer Prime. — His Patriotism.-!— Deiven from nis CnuRcn. — lira Li
brary Destroyed. — His Death. — Insult to his Grave,  10T
CHAPTER X.
Samuel Eaton. — Is settled in Harpsburg, Maine. — Practices three Pro
fessions. — Attends a Political Meeting. — His Stirring Address. —
Narrow Escape of an Officer of the King. — Recruiting Officer
seeks his Aid. — Eaton addresses the People on Sabbath Evening. —
Thrilling Scene. — Soldiers Obtained. — His Death  110
CHAPTER XI.
William Tennent. — His BiRTn and Education. — Settled at Norwalk,
Conn, — Removes to Charleston, 8. C. — His Personal Appearance. —
His Eloquence. — His Boldness and Zeal in the Cause of the Colo
nies. — Makes Patriotic Appeals on the Sabbath. — Is elected Member
of the Provincial Congress of South Carolinia. — Sent with Henry
Drayton to Back Settlements to Baffle Tories. — Letters to Henry
Laurens and Congress. — Again bent to Congress. — His Character.,. 115
CHAPTER in.
Peter Gabriel Muhlenburg. — Fighting Clergymen. — Muhxenburg's Birth
and Education.— Goes to En gland. —Settles in Virginia. — Takes a
prominent Part in Political Movements. — Becomes Member of the
House of Burgesses, — Raises a Regiment, of which he is chosen
Colonel. — Preaches his Farewell Sermon. — Orders the Drum to
beat for Recruits at the Church Door. — Marches to Charleston. —
Camps at Valley Forge. — Fights bravely at Brandywine. — At Mon
mouth. — Commands the Reserve at Stony Point. — Makes a desperate
Assault at Torktown. — Is made Major General. — Political Career
AFTER THE WAR. — DflFENCK OF COURSE IN ABANDONING PROFESSION  121
CHAPTER XIII.
Thomas Allen.— His Birth and Education. — Settles in Pittsfield. —
Takes decided Part with the Colonies. — Is made Chairman of the
Committee of Safety and Correspondence. — His Labors. — His Inter
est in the Conquest of Ticondrroga. — New and Interesting Letter
to Gen. Beth Pomroy. — Joins the Army as Chaplain. — His Diary at
the Battle of White Plains. — Goes to Ticonderoga. — Address to tiik
Soldiers when expecting an Attack— His Disgust at tile Retreat.—
Rallies the Militia to the Aid of Starke, at Bennington. — Summons
the Enemy to Surrender, and is Fired at. — Fights in the Ranks. —
First over the Breast-work.— His Care for the Wounded. — Re
turns to his Parish. — Dialogue with a Parishioner.— Voyage to
England after an Infant Grandchild.— Prays with and Addresses
the Crew in Kxpbotation of an Attack.— His Conduct in the Shay's
Rebellion.— His Statesmanship— His Death.  128
CHAPTER XIV.
John Rossbttrgii. — An Irishman by Birth. — His Education. — Is Settled
at the " Forks of the Del aware."— His Patriotism. — Joins a Company
formed in his own Parish ab a Soldier, — His painful Parting with

CONTENTS. IX
PAGE
his Wife.— Makes his Will. — Chaplain of a Regiment. — Marches
against the Enemy.— Is taken Prisoner, and Murdered while Pray
ing for His Enemies. — The mutilated Corpse stealthily Buried. — IDs
Letters to his Wife just bbfobe a Skirmish. — His Character  153
CHAPTER XV.
Abner Benedict. — His Birth and Education. — Settled at Middletown. —
Becomes Chaplain in the Army at New York. — Description of a ter
rific Thunder-storm. — The Battle of Long Island.— His Feelings, —
The Last to leave the 8ho e in the Retreat. — Inventions in Sub
marine Navigation. — Manuf*.ttui;es Saltpeter for Powder. — Elect
ed Professor in Yale Cgllegk. — His Character and Death  16i
CHAPTER XVI.
William WnrrE, D.D. — His Birth and early Studtes. — Goes to England. —
Friend of Goldsmith and Johnson. — Settled in Philadelphia.—
Takes the Oath of Allegiance. — Noble Determination. — Elected
CnAPLAiN of Congress. — His Conduct after the Revolution. — Is
made Bishop.— His Character and Death  171
CHAPTER XVII.
Timothy Dwight. — Patriotism of our Colleges.— D wight's Birtti. — His
early Life. — Tutor of Yale College. — Is Licensed to Preach.— His
Patriotism. — Becomes Chaplain. — Advocates complete Independ
ence.— Desolate Appearance of Westchester County. — Sermon after
the Victory at Saratoga. — Anecdote of Putnam. — Composes the Ode
to Columbia. — Dedicates a Poem to Washington. — Shares the Suffer
ings of the Soldiers at West Point in tile Winter of 1778. — His
Faith.— Dead Unburied at Fort Montgomery. — Death of iiis Father.
— Leaves thk Army, — Settles at Northampton. — Goes to Legislature.
— Publishes several Poems. — Elected President of Yale College. — A
Federalist in 1812. — Eminence as a Theologian. — His Death  175
CHAPTER XVIII.
NAPnTHALi Dagget.— Professor of Divinity in Yale College. — The
College broken up, — Invasion of Tryon. — Terror of the Inhabitants.
— A Company of a Hundred Young Men raised to resist Him. — Dr.
Daoget and his Black Mare.— Advances alone to Reconnoiter. —
The Fight. — The Retreat. — Dr. Dagget refuses to run. — Interview
with the British Officer, — Forced to guide the Column. — Brutal
Treatment. — Rescued by a Tory. — His Sickness. — Death  199
CHAPTER XIX.
Ezra Styles, — His Prophecy respecting the Colonies, in 1760. — Presi
dent of Yale College. — Chancellor Kent's Eulogy of him. — His
Patriotism.— Keeps a Diary of Revolutionary Events. — His Death,. 205
CHAPTER XX.
Joel Barlow.— Early Education, — A Friend of Dwight.— His Poem,
"The Prospect of Peace,"— Becomes Chaplain. — Writes Patriotic
Ballads. — "Hymns for Yankee Rebels." — The Burning of Charles-
town.'1— Occupation in the Army. — Friend of Washington.— Sermon
on Arnold's Treason. — Becomes Lawyer and Editor at Hartford,
Connecticut. — Revises Watt's Psalms and Hymns— Agent of Scioto
Land Company.— Visits England and Feance.— In French Revolu
tion.— Occupations in Europe. — Consul at Algiers. — Makes a For
tune in France.— Returns to America.— Remark able Prophecies in his
Columbiad.— Minister to France.— Charge of Religious Apostaoy. , . 20T
CHAPTER XXL
James Caldwell.— His BiRTn and -A noestry. -.Personal Appearance.—
Power of his Voice. — His Character. — His Congregation at Eliza-
betutown.— Made Chaplain.— His Toast on the Reception of tub
Declaration of Independence.— His Activity.— Rewards offered

X CONTENTS. PAGE
for his Capture. — Removes to Connecticut Farms.— Goes Armed. —
His Services. — Letter to Lee. — Assistant Commissary General.—
Last Interview with his Wife.— Her Murder. — Fight at Spring-
field. — uGivk 'em Watts." — Murder of Caldwell. — His Funeral. —
His Children. — Monument to Him^  217
CHAPTER XXII.
Benjamin Trumbull. — His Birth and Education. — Takes Sides with the
Colonies. — Enters tub Army as Chaplain. — Fights in the Ranks. —
Curious Interview with Washington. — Fights at Whiteplains. —
Anecdote. — Fights at New Haven. — Returns to nis Parish. — Writes
tub History of Connecticut. — His Death — His Publications  233
CHAPTER XXIII.
Samuel Kirkland. — His Birth and Education. — A Teacher in Dr.
Wheelook's School. — Goes a Missionary to the Indians of New
York State. — His Labors and Perils. — His Mission broken up by the
Revolution. — Employed by Congees* to keep the Indians from join
ing tub British. — Prevented by Brandt. — A Chaplain in Sullivan's
Brigade. — Accompanies it to Genesee Flats. — His Services rewarded
by Congress. — Settles among the Oneidas after the War. — Founds
Hamilton College. — Is turown from his Horse. — His Death  239
CHAPTER XXIV.
James Hall. — His Birth and Education. — Settled iw North Carolina. —
Rouses his People to oppose the Mother Country. — Is made Captain
of a Company of Cavalry. — Acts also as Chaplain. — Marches to
South Carolina. — Offe*ed the Commission of Brigadier General by
Greene. — Declines. — His after Life  255
CHAPTER XXV.
John Gano. — The Baptists of Virginia. — Gano's Early Life. — Visits the
South and Preaches. — Arraigned for it, but is Acquitted and Li
censed.— Anecdotes of iiis Coolness and Courage. — Settled in North
Carolina. — Offered a Captain's Commission in the Army against the
Cherokebs. — Declines. — Returns North. — Finally Settles in New
York.— His Congregation broken up.— Joins the Army as Chaplain.
— Under Fire at White Plains. — At Trenton.— Chaplain under Clin
ton at Fort Montgomery. — His Description of the taking of the
Fort. — With Clinton's Brigade at Albany. — Its Chaplain. — in the
Expedition against the Indians. — Annecdotes of him in this Cam
paign. — Sermon on the Fourth of July. — His Faithfulness. — Goes
South with tub Army. — Advancing against Cornwallis.— Returns
to ins Church at tub Close of the War. — Removes to Kentucky. —
His Death  250
CHAPTER XXVI.
Charles Commings. — An Irishman by Birth. — Settles in Virginia. — En
ters the Ministry. — Fights the Indians.— Goes armed to iiis Church. —
Takes the Lead in the political Movements of the People. — Cuap-
lain to the Army in the Expedition against the Cherokees. — His
Death  27S
CHAPTER XXVII.
Daniel McCalla. — Ills Birth. — Graduates at Princeton wiien Eighteen
Ykabs of Age. — Studies for the Ministry. — Settles in Pennsylvania.
—Appointed Chaplain under General Thomson. — [s taken Prisoner
in the Attack on " Three Kivers." — Thrown into a Prison Ship.—
His Sufferings and Fortitude. — ISrleased on Parole. — Flees to
Virginia.— Settles in South Carolina.— His Death  278
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Johk Wttheespoon, D.D.— The Clergy ab Statebmen.— Witherspqon A
Bootohman by Birth. — His Early Life. — Is Licensed to Preach. — Joins
THE AsilY OF THE PRETENDER.— TAB.1M PRISONER AT THE BATTLE Or FAL-

CONTENTS. XI
•h m PAGE
kirk.— Eminence as a Theologian. — Elected President of Princeton
College. — Flattering Reception in this Country. — Takes Sides
with tub Colonies. — Elected Member of the New Jersey Legis
lature. — Scathing Attack on Governor Franklin. — Elected Mem
ber of Congress. — His Speech on the Declaration of Independence.
Iiis Great Services in Congress. — His Death  2S0
CHAPTER XXIX.
David Avery. — IlrsBtRTn and Character. — Converted under Whitfield.
— Leaves ins Trade to Study for the Ministry. — Enters Dr. Wheel-
opk's Charity School. — Graduates at Yale College. — Studies Divin
ity. — A Missionary among- tub Indians. — Settled at Gaysboro, Ver
mont. — His Patriotism. — Raises a Company and Marches to Boston. —
Made Ch vplain. — Noddle's Island. — Present at the Battle of Bunker
Hill. — Praying for Victory.. — Accompanies Washington through
tjie Jerseys. — Wounded at Trenton. — At Valley Forge. — At Ticon-
deroga. — At Bennington.— His Death  287
CHAPTER XXX.
Israel Evans. — His Character. — Ordained Chaplain in the Army. — Re
mains with the New Hampshire Brigade through the War. — Stands
beside Washington at Yorktown.' — Anecdote of Him and Washing
ton. — His Sermon on tub Field of Battle. — Settled at Concord,
New Hampshire. — His Death  300
CHAPTER XXXI.
Cotton Mather Smith. — His Birth and Parentage. — A Teacher among
the Indians. — Studies Theology. — Is Settled at Sharon, Conn. — In
fluence of the Clergy of Connecticut in bringing about the Rev
olution. — His views of the Struggle between the Colonies and
Mother Country. — The Part he took in it. — Patriotism of his Con
gregation. — Is made Chaplain, and Marches to Ticonderoga. — His
Devotion to the Sick. — Seized with the Camp Fever. — Returns
Home. — Invasion of Burgoyne. — His Sermon just before the Final
Victory at Saratoga. — Thrilling Scene. — His Character. — His
Death  805-
CHAPTER XXXII.
Judah Champion, the Pastor of Litchfield, Connecticut. — His Praterh
for his Country. — Extraordinary Scene in Church on the Arrival
of News from the Army. — Women Working on the Sabbath to pre
pare Garments for the Soldiers. — The Pastor on the Field of
Eattle  313
CHAPTER XXXHI.
Alexander McWnoRTER. — His Early Life. — Zeal in the Cause of Lib
erty. —Sent South by Congress to rouse the Inhabit ants. —Accom
panies Washington in His Retreat through New Jersey.— Made
Chaplain of Knox's B eig ad e.— Leaves the Army.— Settles in North
Carolina. — His Library and Furniture destroyed by the British. —
Flees to Pennsylvania. — Sent to England to raise Funds for Princr-
ton College. — Revisits his Native Place. — His Death  82T
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Moses Allen. — His Early Life.— A Friend of Madison. — Settles in
Midway, Georgia.— His Patriotic Efforts. — Chaplain in the Army. —
His House and Church Burned. — In the Battle before Savannah. —
Is taken Prisoner.— Confined on board a Prison Ship. — His Suffer
ings. — Brutality of his Captors. — Attempts to Escape.— Is Drowned.
— Denied Decent Burial  831
CHAPTER XXXV.
Benjamin Pomeboy. — His Early Life. — Becomes a "New Light." — Is Per
secuted by the State, and Finally Deprived of his Salary.— Be-
ctfMiea Chaplain in the French War. — Ilia Letter to his Wife

XU CONTENTS. PACE
DESCRIBING THE EXECUTION Of A CRIMINAL.— -At SEVENTY BECOMES
Chaplain in the Eevolutionary Army. — Hib Venerable Appear-
anoe. — Touching Appeals. — His Death.  841
CHAPTER XXXVI.
John Rogees. — His Reputation Abeoad.— His Patriotism. — Introduction
to Washington. — Chaplain in Heath's Brigade. — Resigns and goes
to Georgia. — On his Return made Chaplain to the New York Pro
vincial Assembly. — Becomes Member of the Legislature. — Chan
cellor of the Regents of the University  847
chapter xxxvii.
George Duffield. — Descended from the Huguenots. — Studies for the
Ministry. — Is Settled in Carlisle. — His Parishioners go armed to
Church. — His Patriotism. — Settles in Philadelphia. — King's Mag
istrate ATTEMPTS TO STOP HIS PREACHING. — Is BROUGHT UP BEFORE THE
Mayor on Charge of Riot. — Excitement of the People.. — His Pop
ularity with Members of Congress. — Stirring Address. — Becomes
Chaplain in the Army. — Preaches to the Soldiers from the Forks of
a Tree. — Buries a Brother Chaplain who has been Murdered. —
Narrow Esoape. — Example of his Faith. — His Death.  850
CHAPTER XXXVm.
David Sandford. — His Patriotism. — His Personal Appearance. — His Elo
quence. — Gives his Salary to the Cause of Liberty. — Becomes Chap
lain. — Expressive Countenance. — Anecdote Illustrating It. — Stern
Rebukes. — His Piety. — His Death  861
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Nathan Ker.— His Birth and Ancestry. — Anecdote of his Grandfather. —
His Patriotism. — Abjures all Allegiance to Great Britain. — Tories
and Indians. — Massacre at Minisink. — Slaughter of Mr. Ker's Con
gregation. — Anecdote of Him and Lafayette. — A Friend of Wash-
ton. — Loans the Government Eight Thousand Dollars, for which
He received Nothing but " Old Liberty." — Celebration at the Close
of tub War  865
CHAPTER XL.
John Hurst.— His Patriotism.— Sermon to the Soldiers  872
CHAPTER XLI.
William MoKay Tennent. — Uncertainty as to his Identity with the Sub
ject of the Following Sketch. — Patriotic Sermon delivered before
the Troops at Ticonderoga. — His Career after the War.— His Death. S76
CHAPTER XLIL
Mr. Boardman. — Chaplain to Durkre's Regiment. — Hib Diary  8S2
CHAPTER XLIII.
Mr. Magoon. — Extracts from his Address to Haslett's Battalion  3S9
chapter xliv.
Thomas Coombs. — Sermon on Past-day and Patriotic Sentiments  892
chapter xlv.
A Roman Catholic Chaplain. — Catholics have Fought with Protest
ants FROM THE FIRST FOR LIBERTY. — CAUSE OF TniB SINGULAR COINCI
DENCE.— Fourth of July Address  894
CHAPTER XLVI.
A Chaplain at Brandywlne,— Address before the Battle  89S

CHAPTER I.
Belioiotts Element of the Revolution. — Not sufficiently dwelt on by His
torians. — Influence and Action of Pastors.— Example of in Stockbridge,
Mass. — Interesting Scene.
Notwithstanding the numberless hooks that have
been written on the American Eevolution, there is one.
feature of it which has been sadly overlooked. I mean
the religious element. In this respect there is not a
single history of that great struggle which is not so
radically defective as to render the charge against it of
incompleteness a valid one. This omission on the part
of historians, seems the more remarkable from the fact
that common belief, the universal impression, is against
it. There has scarcely been a celebration of the day
on which our independence was declared, in which this
religious element is not referred to as constituting one
of the chief features of the Eevolution, yet it receives
a subordinate place in history. One reason of this,
doubtless, is, that it did not enter into the machinery
of political or military life. It was not an organized
force that could be numerically calculated or physi
cally disposed of in making outward achievements.
To omit Eeligion in a history of the Crusades, would
be like building a structure without laying a founda
tion, for that great movement was begun and carried
forward by religious feeling alone. The banner that
moved at the head of crowding millions was the Cross

14 RELIGIOUS element
of Christ, and he that bore it a priest, while the great
object to be accomplished was the rescue of the Sepul
chre of the Saviour from infidel hands.
So of the English Esvolution under Cromwell : no
one would dream of writing its history without making
religion and religious men a prominent and perpetual
force. In short, a history that should ignore them,
would be false and worthless. The reason is, that here,
too, they formed a part of the physical machinery by
which the revolution was carried on. The camp was a
prayer-meeting — its passwords Scriptural phrases, and
the dread slogan of the army the language of the sanc
tuary. Freedom and equal rights, was not the war-
cry of the Invincible Ironsides ; but when they, with
their helmets on, and their eyes bent in wrath on their
enemies, swept like a thunder-cloud to battle, the
charge-cry that rolled so terribly over the field was
" Eeligion \"
In our Eevolution the religious element was not par
amount, and hence did not give shape and character to
the whole physical structure and organization. It kept
more within its appropriate sphere, and stood behind
and sustained the political and military organizations of
the land, rather than formed a part of them. But it is
not on that account to be overlooked. He who forgets
or under-estimates the moral forces that uphold or bear
on a great struggle, lacks the chief qualities of a his
torian. It is unquestionably true that, if the clergy of New
England had from the outset taken the decided and de
termined stand against the cause of the colonies, which,

OF THE REVOLUTION, 15
they did for it, the result would have been totally dif
ferent. Why then should not they and their sermons,
addresses, and prayers, have as prominent a place it
the history of the Eevolution, as town committees of
safety, and local petitions, and resolutions, and remon
strances, which the historian thinks so necessary to the
completeness of his narrative ? That omission in our
histories I design in these pages as far as possible to
fill up.
There is some excuse for the historian in not giving
a greater prominence to the religious element of the
Eevolution, for its development, force, and the efforts
it caused to be put forth, did not take the shape of town
meetings, and form part of the political and military
records of the times. It is impossible, therefore, to col
lect together the unreported harangues, and sermons,
and unorganized efforts that lay at the bottom of its
power. I have had this difficulty to contend with an
every step.
It is difficult in these days, when chaplains in the
army are looked upon simply as a necessary part of its
methodical organization, a set of half officers, half
civilians who are not allowed to fight, and often can
not preach, to get a proper conception of those times
when their appeals thrilled the ranks, and made each
hand clutch its weapon with a firmer grasp, and when
their prayers filled each heart with a lofty enthusiasm.
Then the people composed the army ; and when the
man of God addressed the crowding battalions, he
addressed the young men and old men of his flock,
who looked up to him with love and reverence, and

16 RELIGIOUS ELEMENT
believed him almost as they did the Bible. Could the
history of each volunteer band, as it left its native
valley — the enthusiasm kindled by the pastor's address,
the courage imparted by his solemn parting blessing,
and assurance that God smiled on them — be given, we
should have a revolutionary page that would thrill the
heart. The religious sentiment was stronger in New Eng
land than in the other colonies, from the fact that the
original settlers were driven there by religious persecu
tion. Having fled across the ocean to secure religious
freedom, it was natural they should consider it to be
the chief end and purpose of all government. Hence
all rules, regulations, and laws for their government,
were, figuratively speaking, first baptized before they
were allowed to become a part of the civil system.
Hence, too, in the early wars of the colonies, chaplains
became a necessary part of the army. Men who had
been in the conventicles of Cromwell's troops, and
heard Baxter preach and pray, would not be apt to
forget a chaplain when organizing an expedition. The
office at that time was no sinecure, nor unattended
with danger, and men of nerve and force, as well as
piety, were sought after.
Those who were chaplains during the French and
Indian war became at its close pastors of churches,
and although most of those who were alive at the
breaking out of the Eevolution were too old to become
chaplains once more, they still held to their former
belief in the right of resistance, and taught it in their
congregations. The same was true of the entire clergy

OF THE REVOLUTION. 17
throughout the New England Colonies, and though
some were not so positive and aggressive in their action
as others, yet they were equally decided, and exerted
though a quiet, a deep influence on the Eevolution.
They were humble pastors, from whose flocks were
drawn the numberless little companies of minute-men,
who formed the first army against which the tides of
British valor rolled in vain on the heights of Bunker
Hill. In every quiet little valley and sequestered
nook in New England, the pastor had taught the doc
trines of freedom, and preached the duty of resistance
to oppression.
The farmers and mechanics listened with reverence
and confidence to these teachings, and showed their
faith by their works when thfc hour of trial came. At
the battle-cry, that rolled over the land from Lexington
and Concord, they shouldered their muskets, and went
forth with the blessing of their pastor on their heads
and his fervent prayers for their success following their
footsteps. If the scenes that transpired in the count
less villages and hamlets of New England, when the
news of the first blood, shed by British troops, swept
over the colonies, and the first uprising of the people
took place, could be described, just as they occurred,
in all the beauty, pathos, patriotism, and religion that
characterized them, the Eevolutionary struggle would
possess an interest that all its thrilling battles and
perilous marches, deeply as they enlist our sympathies,
can never impart. The description of a single one,
that took place in one of the remotest towns of Mas
sachusetts — Old Stockbridge — must answer as an

18 RELIGIOUS ELEMENT
illustration of what transpired every where throughout
the country. I
For a long time matters had been drawing to a
crisis ; the colonists refused to yield their sacred
rights, and the mother country steadily increased the
pressure of her power to force obedience, till she could
go no farther unless she resorted to military force.
Hence the whole country was in a state of the most
painful suspense and expectation. But firmly resolved
to meet open force with force, they had arranged
relays of horses and couriers along the highways and
byeways of New England, to speed the news of the
first shedding of American blood. To be ready for
these fearful tidings, minute-men had been enrolled
in every town, prepared to march on a moment's
notice. In Stockbridge, Berkshire County, Mass., Deacon
Cleveland and another leading member of the church
had been selected, for their positions in the centre of
the valley and of the village, to spread the note
of alarm. The son of the Deacon, a young man only
seventeen years of age at the time, gave to a friend
of the writer a description of the reception of the
news in that little village.
One quiet Sabbath morning, when all was still, as
it ever was in that peaceful valley on that holy day,
he was suddenly startled by the report of a musket.
On going out to ascertain what it meant, he saw his
father in the back yard with the discharged piece in
his hand. Before he had time to express his wonder,
another report broke the stillness of the Sabbath

OFTHE REVOLUTION. 19
morning, and as the smoke curled up in the damp at
mosphere, he saw in the neighboring yard one of the
chief pillars of the church, standing with his musket
in his hand. He paused astounded, not knowing what
awful phenomenon this strange event portended. He
said that he thought the judgment day had come.
But in a few moments he noticed men hurrying along
the hitherto deserted street, with weapons in their
hands. One by one they entered his father's gate, and
gathered on the low stoop. The flashing eye and
flushed cheek told that something eventful had trans
pired — and there had.
When the report of those two muskets echoed along
the sweet valley of the Housatonic and up the adja
cent slopes, the sturdy farmers knew what it meant.
The father, just preparing for the duties of the sanc
tuary, heard it, and, flinging aside his Sabbath gar
ments, hastily resumed his work-day dress, and taking
down his musket strained his wife and children in one
long farewell embrace to his bosom, then turned from
the home he might never see again. The young man
buckled on his knapsack, and amid sobs and tears shut
the little farm gate behind him, the fire in his eye dry
ing up the tears as fast as they welled to the surface.
Although the heart heaved with emotion, the step
was firm and the brow knit and resolute.
In a short time the little porch was crowded with
men. A moment after, Dr. West, the pastor, was
seen slowly descending the hill toward the same place
of rendezvous. It was a cold, drizzly morning, and
as, with his umbrella over his head, and the Bible

20 RELIGIOUS ELEMENT.
under his arm, he entered the dooryard, his benevolent
face revealed the emotion that was struggling within. -
He, too, knew the meaning of those shots ; they were
the signals agreed upon to inform the minute-men of
Stockbridge that their brethren in the East had closed
with the foe in battle. He ascended the steps, and,
opening the Bible, read a few appropriate passages,
and then sent up a fervent prayer to Heaven. When
he ceased, the rattling of arms was heard. A short
and solemn blessing closed the impressive scene, and
before twelve o'clock twenty men, with knapsacks on
their backs and muskets on their shoulders, had
started on foot for Boston, nearly two hundred miles
distant. Oh, how deep down in the consciences of men had
the principles of that struggle sunk, when they made
those Puritans forget the solemn duties of the sanctu
ary for the higher duties of the battle-field. They had
been taught from the pulpit that it was the cause of
God, and they took it up in the full belief they had
His blessing and His promise. Such scenes as these
were enacted every where, and from the consecrating
hand of the man of God went forth the thousand
separate bands that soon after met and stood shouldei
to shoulder on the smoking heights of Bunker Hill.

CHAPTER II.
Systematic Influence of the Clergy. — Election Sermons before the Eevo
lution. — Election Sermons a part of the Proceedings of the Provincial
Legislature. — Samuel Cook's Sermon, 1770.— Mr. Tucker's, in 1771.— Ciiarle3
Turner's, in 1773. — Gad. Hitchcock's, in 1774. — "The Tea Overboard." —
President Langdon's, in 1775. — " Bunker Hill,.— Monitions of the Coming
Storm." — These Sermons the Political Pamphlets of the Times.
There was one way in which the clergy of New
England acted directly and systematically on the pop
ular judgment and heart, in producing and sustaining
the revolution which, it seems a little strange, should
have escaped the attention of those historians, who
have investigated so carefully the means by which it was
brought about. I refer to the annual " election ser
mon," as it was called, that was preached before the
Governor and House of Eepresentatives, especially
in Massachusetts, at the election of His Majesty's
Council. These sermons were as much a part of the stately
and imposing ceremonies as the election itself. The
ablest divines in the Colony were invited to deliver
them — not as a mere compliment to religion, nor were
they listened to simply with that quiet decorum and
respectful attention, which is accorded in ordinary
worship, but with the deep interest of those seeking
light and instruction. The preachers did not confine
themselves to a dissertation on doctrinal truths nor

22 ELECTION SERMONS
mere exhortation to godly behavior. They grappled
with the great question of the rights of man, and
especially the rights of the colonists in their contro
versy with the mother country. In reading these dis
courses one is struck with the thorough knowledge
those divines possessed of the origin, nature, object,
character and end of all true government. They dealt
in no high sounding phrases of liberty and equality ;
they went to the very foundations of society, showed
what the natural rights of man were, and how those
rights became modified when men gathered into com
munities ; how all laws and regulations were designed
to be for the good of the governed ; that the object of
concentrated power was to protect not invade personal
liberty, and when it failed to do this, and oppressed
instead of protected, assailed instead of defended rights,
resistance, became lawful, nay, obligatory. They
showed also the nature of compacts and charters, and
applied the whole subject to the case of the Colonies.
The profound thought and unanswerable arguments,
found in these sermons, show that the clergy were not
a whit behind the ablest statesmen of the day in their
knowledge of the great science of human government.
In reading them one gets at the true pulse of the peo
ple, and can trace the steady progress of the public
sentiment. They are like the hands of a clock that, at
regular intervals, tell the time of day. The publica
tion of these sermons in a pamphlet form was a part
of the regular proceedings of the assembly, and being
scattered abroad over the land, clothed with the double
sanction of their high authors and the endorsement of

BEFORE THE REVOLUTION. 23
the legislature, became the text books of human rights
in every parish. They were regarded as the political
pamphlets of the day. Thus the thorough indoctrina
tion of the people into the duties and powers of gov
ernment, the reciprocal obligations resting on them
and the mother country were reduced to a system.
It must be remembered that newspapers at that day
were a novelty, and ideas were not so easily dissemi
nated as now. The pulpit, therefore, was the most
direct and effectual way of reaching the masses. The
House of Eepresentatives of Massachusetts knew this,
and passed resolutions requesting the clergy to make
the question of the rights of the Colonies and the op
pressive conduct of the mother country a topic of the
pulpit on week days. They thus proclaimed to all
future time their solemn convictions of their depen
dence on the pulpit for that patriotic feeling and unity
of action, which they knew to be indispensable to suc
cess. Here, then, the historian can lay his hand on
the deep, solid substratum that underlaid the Eevo
lution. Thus as far back as 1770 we can see in the election
sermons of Massachusetts the dim foreshadowings of
the coming contest. In that year Samuel Cook, of the
Second Church of Cambridge, preached the sermon be
fore Gov. Hutchinson, the Council and House of Eep
resentatives. He took for his- text, 2 Samuel, xxiii.
3d and 4th verses : " He that ruleth over men must
be just ruling in the fear of God. And he shall be as
the light of the morning, when the sun riseth, even a
morning without clouds, as the tender grass springing

24 ELECTION SERMONS
out of the earth by clear shining after rain." He did
not apply this text primarily or chiefly to the duty of
rulers to be just, virtuous and God fearing, but to
them as law makers. As I remarked of the sermons
in general, he began by describing the rights which
man possessed in a state of nature, showed in what
way they became modified when men were collected
into communities, and framed laws for the protection
of all. He thus gradually brought before them the
design and end of true government, viz., the protection
of the rights of all. Hence followed the necessity of
obedience to laws and constitutions. While on this
topic, he uttered a truth which men would do well to
ponder at this day : "A free state," he says, " will no
longer continue so than while the constitution is main
tained entire in all its branches and connections." . He
then quotes the New England Charter, and asserts
that it is not an " act of grace, but a compact," a
mutual agreement, the conditions of which, while the
Colonies observe, the government at home must respect.
He then speaks of the present indications of an at
tempt to concentrate the power in the hands of the
governor, and declares, when that is accomplished, " the
days of liberty are over." " America," he exclaims,
now pleads her right to her possessions, which she can
not resign while she apprehends she has truth and jus
tice on her side." After thus ably explaining the
rights of man by nature, the necessity of laws in com
munities, the object and end of government, the sa
cred nature of constitutions and compacts, and the
duty of freemen to guard with jealous care the liberty

BEFORE THE REVOLUTION. 25
guaranteed by them — he speaks of the present claims
of the Colonists, which the government hesitates to
acknowledge, and then turns to His Majesty's Governor
and Council and the House of Eepresentatives, and
rings in their attentive listening ears, " These their
claims the Americans consider not as novel and wan
tonly made, but founded in nature and in compact, in
their rights as men and British subjects — the same
which their forefathers, the first occupants, made and
asserted at the time of their removal with their effects
into this wilderness ;" and winds up with, " Let
every attempt to secure our liberties be conducted
with manly fortitude, but with the respectful decency
which reason approves, and which alone gives weight
to the most salutary measures." Let His Majesty's
Governor and Council hear that and ponder it well —
let His Majesty across the ocean read it, for his subjects
on this side will, and lay it to heart, and every pulpit
will echo it. Thus five years before the children of a
common stock closed in deadly conflict at Lexington
and Concord did such ominous truths fall on the
hearts of ruler and ruled. [1771.]
The next year, on the 29 th of May, John Tucker,
of the First Church of Newbury, preached the sermon,
taking his text from 1 Peter, ii. 13, 14, 15, 16 : " Sub
mit yourselves to every ordinance of man for the
Lord's sake, whether it be the king as supreme," &c.
This sermon reveals the increased excitement in the
Colonies, and shows what a more determined and
2

26 ELECTION SERMONS
sterner attitude the clergy had taken. He goes over
the same ground that Mr. Cook did with regard to the
origin and design of government and the sacredness
of compacts. While acknowledging that government
is the work of man, he declares it derives all its pow
ers from God, and hence its enactments must be in
accordance with his will, and boldly asserts that " the'
people as well as their rulers are the proper judges of
the civil constitution they are under and of their own
rights and principles." When he comes to apply the
text in requiring submission to rulers he enters into a
full consideration of what kind of submission is due.
He says the duties of ruled and ruler are reciprocal,
and " Unlimited submission is not due to government
in a free state. There are certain boundaries beyond
which submission can not be justly required, and
should not be yielded. They have," he says, " an un
doubted privilege to complain of unconstitutional
measures in government, and of unlawful encroach
ments upon their rights, and may, while they do it
with becoming decency, do it with that noble freedom
and firmness which a sense of wrong joined with the
love of liberty will inspire." Warming with his sub
ject he goes farther, and declares that they not only
have a right to complain, but that resistance may be
come a duty. He does not, he says, presume to draw
the line in the present controversy where resistance
should begin, but declares, " Sirs, it is not necessary
if our constitutional rights and privileges should be
demanded, we should readily yield to the unrighteous
claim. "Should we thus meanly resign them up, and

BEFORE THE REVOLUTION. 27
take in exchange the chains of slavery for ourselves
and children, could we forgive ourselves ? Would our
unhappy posterity forgive us ? Would we not deserve
the punishment while we felt the guilt of assassins, for
having stabbed the vitals of our country ?" Well
may that grave audience listen in breathless silence,
and the Governor and Council look meaningly on each
other, for in those swelling tones with which the min
ister of God pours forth these bold, exciting truths
they hear the distant bugle call to rally for freedom.
Such truths, sown broadcast over the land, and falling
on hearts already on fire, exerted an influence that, at
the present day, it is impossible to conceive. It must
be remembered they were uttered at the seat of power
by men of high standing and influence, and sent abroad
by that power to the people. [1773.]
In 1773 the sermon was preached by Charles Tur
ner from Eomans, xiii. 4, in which he meets the objec
tion that ministers should not meddle in politics, and
while he concedes its force in mere local matters, he
boldly asserts that it is their duty to interfere where
the liberties of the land are assailed, not only for the
sake of their own posterity as well as that of others,
but because " when the civil rights of a country receive
a shock, it may justly render the ministers of God
deeply thoughtful for the safety of sacred privileges —
for religious liberty is so blended with civil, that if
one falls it is not to be expected that the other will
continue."

28 ELECTION SERMONS.
[1774.]
The next spring, May 25th, 1774, the tone of the elec
tion sermon, preached by Gad Hitchcock, of Pembroke,
furnished the key-note of public feeling, and showed
clearly the increased state of excitement and the strongei
spirit of resistance abroad in the Colonies. He took his
text from Prov. xxix. 2 : " When the righteous are in
authority the people rejoice, but when the wicked beai
rule the people mourn." The very text was like a
trumpet call to battle. To appreciate fully its force,
and the telling effect of the sermon on those who
listened to it, and the people who read it, we must
recall the exciting scenes of the autumn and winter
that had passed. First came the news that a cargo
of tea had been ordered to Boston, when the bells
were set ringing, and the people hastened to Lib
erty Tree to consult on the matter. Exciting har
angues were made, and a committee appointed to
wait on the consignees, and to request them not to
receive the tea. The whole town was in commotion,
and Gov. Hutchinson, in alarm, prepared to flee to
the " castle" for safety. Persuaded to desist from this
rash act, he sat, irresolute and trembling,- not know
ing what to do. At length the tea came. The
people resolved it should not be landed, and in Decem
ber it went overboard, tumbled into the harbor by cit
izens disguised as Indians. The people then knew
"that they had passed the river, and cut away the
bridge." The cold and dreary storms that swept over
Boston that winter were but a feeble emblem of the

OAD HITCHCOCK. 29
tempests of feeling and indignation that raged in the
hearts of the inhabitants. Spring came, but the popu
lar tempest showed no abatement. " Don't put off the
boat," said the timid, " till you know where you will
land." " We must," replied the bold, " though we
don't know." " God will bring us into a safe harbor,"
thundered Hawley. British fleets and troops were on
the way to enforce submission. The land rocked with
excitement. The fearful undulations at Boston rolled
southward to the Carolinas. Amid such fierce com
motions within, and the gathering of hostile forces
without, the House of Eepresentatives met to choose a
council for the coming year. Gad Hitchcock was
selected to preach the opening sermon. Fresh from
the people, whose excitement and indignation he
shared, he arose in the presence of the hushed assem
blage, and lauched full on the bosom of the astonished
Governor, "When the wicked bear rule, the people
mourn." Having delivered this startling message, he
did not follow it up with fierce denunciations like the
preachers who addressed the covenanters, fleeing from
the sword of Claverhouse. He was not addressing
men about to close in battle with their foes, but a dig
nified body* of law-makers, and his whole sermon was
a clear and masterly exposition of government properly
organized and administered, and of the sufferings of the
people under oppressive rulers. He then stated boldly
the grievances of the colonies, and the cause of the tur
bulent feeling and loud complaints that filled the land.
Making each point tell on the present condition of
things, he wound up his eloquent discourse in the fol-

30 ELECTION SERMONS.
lowing bold and startling language, "Our danger is
not visionary but real ; our contention is not about
trifles, but about liberty and property, and not ours
only, but those of posterity to the latest generation.
« * « « jf j am mistaken in supposing plans are
formed and executing, subversive of our natural and
chartered rights and privileges, and incompatible with
every idea of liberty, all America is mistaken with me.
Our continued complaints, our repeated humble, but
fruitless, unregarded petitions and remonstrances, and,
if I may be allowed the sacred allusion, our groanings
that can not be uttered, are at once indications of our
sufferings, and the feeling sense we have of them."
Let the Governor in his chair of state hear it, we not
only mourn, but, with groanings that can not be uttered,
and all because the luicked rule. The castle can not
shelter him from that scorching thunderbolt. Fami
lies are divided, brother is arrayed against brother,
friend against friend. Society is cut from its moor
ings, and hate and consternation reign on every side,
and all because the luicked bear rule. King George
may say the evils that produce this state of things are
imaginary, but I tell you," says Gad Hitchcock, " and
I tell the tyrant to his face, it is because the wicked
bear ruler
Such sermons had something to do with the Eevo
lution as well as the appointing of committees and the
drawing up of resolutions.

DR. LANGDON. 31
[1775.]
The next year, Dr. Langdon, president of Harvard
College, was appointed to deliver the election sermon.
The contest had then begun — blood had flowed at Lex
ington and Concord, and only three weeks before the
battle of Bunker Hill had been fought. Boston was in
possession of the British, and the Colonial Congress
assembled at Harvard. There was no election of coun
cillors, but it was the anniversary of the day fixed by
charter for the election. The Congress was perplexed
and ignorant what course to adopt. His Majesty's
Governor was not there, neither would they elect a
Council for His Majesty ; and yet Congress had taken
no decided steps toward the inauguration of an inde
pendent government.
Nevertheless until things assumed more definite
shape they would fulfill, as far as they were concerned,
the conditions of the Charter. They therefore met on
the appointed day, and listened to a sermon from the
learned Dr. Langdon.
He took for his text Isaiah, i. 26 : "And I will
restore thy judges as at the first, and thy counsel as
at the beginning. Afterward thou shalt be called the
city of righteousness, the faithful city." Nothing
could be more appropriate than this text. It shows
in what perfect harmony the pulses of the clergy and
the people beat. The latter did not now need any
instruction as to their rights, or appeals to assert them.
They had already asserted them at the point of the
bayonet. The die was cast, and every one asked what

32 election sermons.
would the end be. The capital was in the hands of
the brutal soldiery, and the patriots were driven from
their homes which they might never see again. - In
such a crisis, in such a state of feeling, how beautiful,
how appropriate and encouraging is this full, rich
promise. He commences by saying, " Shall we rejoice, my
fathers and brethren, or shall we weep together on the
return of this anniversary, which from the first settle
ment of the Colony has been sacred to liberty, to per
petuate the invaluable privilege of choosing from
among ourselves wise men fearing God and hating
covetousness, to be honorable counsellors, to constitute
an essential branch of that happy government which
was established in the faith of royal charters ?" He
then compares the past joyful day of elections with
the present anniversary when the capital is the strong
hold of despotism. He goes over the successive acts
of tyranny, describes the murder at Lexington and
Concord, the slaying of women and infants, and en
forces the necessity of repentance and the laying aside
of every sin. But, after recounting all the disasters
that have befallen them, and the sufferings they have
endured, he turns to the cheering promise of the text,
and says the past, instead of disheartening, should
encourage them. " Let us praise God," he exclaims,
in a subdued yet noble enthusiasm, " for the advan
tages already given us over the enemies of liberty —
particularly that they have been so dispirited by re
peated experience of the efficacy of our arms in the
late action at Chelsea, when several hundred of our

DR. LANGDON. 33
soldiery, the greater part open to the fire of so many
cannon swivels and musketry from a battery advan
tageously situated, from two armed cutters full of ma
rines, and from ships of the line in the harbor, not one
man on our side was killed^ and but two or three
wounded, when a great number were killed and
wounded on the other side, and one of the cutters
taken and burnt. If God be for us, who can be
against us ? The enemy has reproached us for calling
on his name, and professing our trust in him. They
have made a mock of our solemn fasts and every ap
pearance of Christianity in the land. On this account,
by way of contempt, they call us saints, while their
mouths are full of cursing and bitterness. And may
we not be confident that the Most High who regards
these things will vindicate his own honor, and plead
our righteous cause against such enemies to his gov
ernment as well as to our liberties. 0 may our camp
be free from every accursed thing. May we be truly
a holy people, and all our towns and cities of right
eousness. Then the Lord will be our refuge and
strength, a very present help in time of trouble, and
we shall have no reason to be afraid, though thousands
of our enemies set themselves against us round about,
though all nature should be thrown into tumults and
convulsions. He can command the stars in their
courses to fight his battles, and all" the elements to
wage war with his enemies. He can destroy them
with innumerable plagues, and send faintness into
then hearts, so that the men of might shall not find
their hands. May the Lord hear us in the day of

34 ELECTION SERMONS.
trouble, and the name of the God of Jacob defend n
send us help from his sanctuary, and strengthen i
out of Zion."
Such patriotic sentiments and noble eucouragemei
by the venerated head of Harvard College, publishi
and scattered through the army and over the countr
performed a mission and secured results which ha'
since been attributed to secondary causes only. Mu<
is said of the intelligence, virtue, and submission
law which characterized our Eevolution, while tho
who refer to it with so much pride forget, or ut lea
fail to recognize, the fact that the rebellion in Ne
England rested on the pulpit — received its stronge
impulse, indeed its moral character, from it. Tl
people were intelligent and moral, says the historiar
but how came they so ? Under what system of ii
struction, or by whose teachings was this state <
things brought about ? It is not sufficient that 1
should state the fact, he should give also the causi
that produced it. It is not enough to point out i
us the phenomenon, we want it explained.

•CHAPTER III.
Election Sermons, preached after TnE Assembling of the Continental
Congress and Organization of Colonial Government.— Eev. Wm. Gor
don.— Eev. Samuel West, of Dartmouth, in 1776.— Bold Appeal.
The first election sermon, preached after the decla
ration of independence, shows clearly that the clergy
kept pari passu with the civil authorities in their
steady advance to a complete separation of the Colo
nies from the mother country ; nay, rather with the
people, who were constantly urging their representa
tives to more decided action. Two weeks after the
bell at Independence Hall, in Philadelphia, rung out
to a breathless multitude in the streets below, and
over the excited land, " Proclaim liberty throughout
all the land to all the inhabitants thereof," the Massa
chusetts House of Eepresentatives assembled, by ordi'
nance of the Continental Congress, to elect the annual
councillors, and Wm. Gordon, of the Third Church of
Eoxbury, was called upon to preach the sermon.
Acting no longer under the royal charter, but under
the higher authority of the Continental Congress, the
delegates assembled to elect those who should recog
nize the new, self-constituted government, and yield
obedience to it alone. It was a position well calcu
lated to alarm the timid, and fill aU with the most
serious reflections. Previous to entering on their
duties, they wished to hear what the servant of God

36 ELECTION SERMONS.
had to say. They had heard from the Continental
Congress, and before proceeding further it became
them to listen to a message from the Lord of Hosts.
Mr. Gordon took his text from Jeremiah, xxx. 20, 21 :
" Their children shall be as aforetime, and their con
gregation shall be established before me, and I will
punish all that would oppress them. And their nobles
shall be of themselves." After quoting thus far, he
paused for a moment, and then added, in an altered
tone, " The sentence is not perfected without the addi
tion of ' and the government shall proceed from the
midst of them,' but the wisdom of the Continental
Congress, in which we cheerfully confide, has restrained
me from making it a part of the text. In an abler
hand, at some fitter time, it may of itself alone suffice
for a complete text. Amen, so let it be." It is clear
at the outset where he stands. He has no hesitation,
no misgivings, no fears, but is willing to make a clean
sweep, and take the whole text, and apply it in the
name of the Lord. He chooses, however, to occupy
the high position maintained by the clergy all over the
land, and which conduced so much to the regard for
law and authority, which was exhibited in such a
marvellous degree in the midst of revolution — viz. :
supporters of the civil authority, instead of inde
pendent leaders. The sentence, however, contains
more than a peaceful recognition of the authority of
the Continental Congress, it embodies a prophecy, and
significantly hints at the near approach of the day
when another will preach in the presence of a governor
chosen " from the midst of them," and the " Amen,

REV. WM. GORDON. 37
so let it be," reveals the deep enthusiasm of . his
patriotic heart, and at the same time exhibits the
prophet-like boldness of his spirit. After giving that
portion of the history of the Jewish nation, to which
this text applied, and drawing a parallel between it
and that of the Colonies, and showing how repentance
for sin was indispensable to the result foretold in the
prophecy, and stating that the same was necessary now
to obtain like results, he says, " A man of timid make
and little faith, no ways conversant with or forgetful
of historical facts, may be apprehensive that, though
our assembly is gathered, and we are about to have
our nobles of ourselves, this government will not be
established, and the present appearances are only like
those sudden revivals that frequently precede the total
extinction of life. He may tremble at the thought of
the power, with whom we are to contend. He may be
terrified with the notion that sooner or later we must
fall before it." * * * « «
Proceeding in this strain, he says, " If the cause of
the ministry was the cause of the united nation, were
not England in debt, a millstone of £30,000,000 hang
ing round her neck — did the policy of France and
Spain coincide with England, and were there no wide
Atlantic separating us — had we no officers of merit —
had the Colonies been less united and zealous — had
not the individuals of the Continental Congress, re
gardless of threats and wrath like tbe roaring of lions,
boldly ventured to engage in maintaining our common
rights upon forming and supporting a continental
army, and in appointing able generals to command it,

38 ELECTION SERMONS.
in whom we can confide and do rejoice — had they not
adopted those measures which will expose them to
suffer as rebels unless success prevents them : then we
might have a fearful looking for of fiery trials of a
long continuance, and might have felt great discour
agement. But when, besides the favorable circum
stances already hinted at, we reflect upon the military
spirit that the Lord of Hosts hath providentially dif
fused through the continent, and that God has won
derfully appeared for us, crowning our military opera
tions with unusual success, and disconcerting those
of the enemy — that the British troops, instead of
ranging at large without opposition and driving the
country before them, and being at liberty to riot on the
fat of the land, and to gratify their brutal lusts upon
our wives and daughters, are confined within narrow
limits by those whom they have been taught to con
sider as infamous cowards— that our people, who have
suffered the most, and been reduced to hardships before
unknown, have been strangely preserved from fainting
and dejection, as though by the special interposition
of heaven, * ® * when we further reflect upon the
importance and goodness of our cause, and that on the
side of the administration have been all manner of
lies, deceit and wicked cunning, corruption, profane-
ness, and blasphemy, we are justified in hoping that
the proceedings of this day, instead of being the last
of the kind, will prove the renewal of our constitu
tional privileges, and that this mode of government
will be established before the Lord. We should cer
tainly rebel against the Sovereign of the Universe in

REV. WM. GORDON. 39
Jus providential dispensation, and reject the divine
council communicated to us by that medium, did we
not resolve to persist in our present opposition to the
wicked designs of an arbitrary ministry."
The whole sermon is a clear, logical, and patriotic
appeal to the House, and he winds up with this bold,
direct declaration ; as though he were a judge address
ing a jury on a question of law, instead of a clergyman
exhorting his hearers to righteousness. " No member
can consistently take his place, or sit in the House of
Assembly, who hesitates about setting up government,
seeing Congress has advised to it, and he that does not
mean to bear a part in the public burdens of the day,
but to escape wholly unhurt in person and property,
is no patriot." Enlarging on the duty of each one to
help in the common cause, and put his hands to the
work, he concludes : " May heaven influence every
one of us to contribute our best abilities, according to
our several stations and relations, to the defense and
support of the common weal. Amen."
It requires no vivid imagination to conceive the
effect of such declarations and sentiments as these on
a people who regarded the minister as the oracle of
God, speaking not merely with the lofty determination
and courage of a patriot, but fortifying his utterance
with, " Thus saith the Lord of Hosts." Follow such
a sermon as this, published by authority of the Pro
vincial Congress, as it goes into every parish of the
Colony, and is read by the pastor and the leading men
of his congregation, and you will cease to wonder that
the soldiers drawn from those parishes should be law-

40 ELECTION SERMONS.
abiding and not given to excesses in the midst of
revolution. Patriotism is grafted on religion, and
while, in obedience to the former, they strike for free
dom, they do it as God-fearing men. Their duty to
their country and to their Maker is so blended that
they can not be separated ; hence their patriotism be
comes tinctured with religion, while their religion em
braces patriotism in its circle of obligations. With the
Israelite to serve his country was to serve his God. The
same doctrine was taught everywhere throughout the
New England Colonies, and accepted as truth. Eesis-
tance to oppressive laws and edicts was not merely the
act of independent freemen struggling for their rights,
but obedience to the high mandates of heaven.
[1776.]
In 1776, the attitude of the Colonies had become
fixed. A separate government had been organized in
them all, and hence there was no longer any need to
discuss the general principles of government, and edu
cate the people into the belief that resistance to op
pression was a duty. The great object now was to
convince all that the new government was legal, and
ought to be obeyed. The right to resist tyranny, and
struggle against the attempt to enforce decrees and
laws that would reduce them to slavery, had been
proved, until all believed in a redress of grievances ;
but the transfer of allegiance from a sovereign that
had long been acknowledged, to a throne or king as it
were of their own creation was an entirely different
matter. Besides, a few years since the very clergy

REV. SAMUEL WEST. 41
who now gave in their adherence to the new govern
ment, and exhorted the people to follow their example,
had preached the same duty of submission to the gov
ernment of the mother country and to the rulers she
appointed over them. It was not so easy to take the
very same texts by which they then urged obedience
to the king, and prove by them that they no longer
owed it, nay, that the divine authority that enforced it
then, now demanded its transfer. The clergy felt this
difficulty, but they grappled with it boldly. Toryism
was the great evil to be eradicated ; and hence to prove
not merely the right, but the solemn duty to renounce
forever all allegiance to the English throne, was the
first great step towards success.
It was for this purpose Samuel West, of Dartmouth,
in the election sermon of 1776, took for his text the
first verse of the 3d chapter of Titus, " Put them in
mind to be subject to principalities and powers, to
obey magistrates, to be ready to every good work."
He commenced by enunciating this great principle,
" The great Creator, having designed the human race
for society, has made us dependent on one another for
happiness — he has so constituted us that it becomes
both our interest and duty to seek the public good."
He showed that the development of the social affec
tions, the action of the benevolent principle implanted
in our natures, and the moral faculties given us to dis
cern the difference between good and evil, right and
wrong, all proved the necessity of a civil government.
As a consequence, obedience to it was obligatory on
all. But the same good will to others and desire for

42 ELECTION SERMONS.
justice, which make us acquiesce in civil government,
would oblige us equally to resist tyranny which cares
neither for the happiness nor right of the subject ; for,
said he, " tyranny and magistracy are so opposed to
each other that where one begins the other ends."
After enlarging with great clearness and force on these
propositions, he applied the subject to the controversy
between the two countries. " Tyranny and arbitrary
power," he says, " are utterly inconsistent with and
subversive of the very design of civil government, and
all political law, consequently the authority of a
tyrant, is null and void." He declared that God never
gave any man the right to trample on the liberty of
his creatures, and " no number of men can confer a
right they do not possess, viz., to take away liberty."
After proving conclusively, " that representation and
taxation are inseparably connected," he adds, " and
when great numbers emigrate to a foreign land, so
that they can not properly be represented at home,
they have a right to legislate for themselves." He
thus goes on, step by step, and proceeds to show that
the Colonies have acted not only in strict accordance
with the Divine purpose, in organizing civil govern
ment, but with the principles of justice and common
sense. Having thus cleared every thing from his path,
as he advanced in his argument, he closed it by boldly
declaring that "any people, when cruelly oppressed,
had a right to throw off the yoke, and be free." He
proved this from the history of the Israelites, quoting
the commands of God to break the bonds of oppression,
and showed that no people ever had a clearer right to

REV. SAMUEL WEST. 43
rebel from this cause than ourselves. Acting on it, he
said, "we have made our appeal to heaven, and we
can not doubt that the judge of all the earth will do
right." Having clearly proved that the duty of alle
giance ends where tyranny begins, he passes from the
discussion of the principle, to the enumeration of those
acts of the British government which demonstrate its
tyrannical character. After speaking of its violation
of charter rights and enactment of oppressive laws, he
says, " Need I, upon this occasion, descend to particu
lars ? Can any one be ignorant what the things are
of which we complain ? Does not every one know
that the King and Parliament have assumed to tax us
without our consent ? And can any one be so lost to
principles of humanity and common sense as not to
view their conduct in the affair as a very grievous impo
sition ? Eeason and equityrequire that no one be obliged
to pay the tax that he has never consented to. * * *
Can any one suppose it to be reasonable that a set of
men, that are perfect strangers to us, should have the
uncontrollable right to lay the most heavy and griev
ous burdens upon us, if they please, purely to gratify
their unbounded avarice and luxury? Must we be
obliged to perish with cold and hunger to maintain
them in idleness, in all kinds of debauchery and dissi
pation? But, if they have the right to take our prop
erty from us without our consent, we must be wholly
at their mercy for food and raiment, and we know, by
sad experience, that their tender mercies are cruel.
But, because we are not willing to submit to such an
unrighteous and cruel decree, though we modestly

44 ELECTION SERMONS.
complained, and humbly petitioned for a redress of
grievances, instead of hearing our complaints, and
granting our requests, they have gone on to add ini
quity to transgression, by making several cruel and
unrighteous acts. Who can forget the cruel act to
block up the harbor of Boston, whereby thousands of
innocent persons must have been inevitably ruined had
they not been supported by the continent ? Who can
forget the act for vacating the charter altogether, with
many other cruel acts, which it is needless to mention?
But, not being able to accomplish their wicked pur
pose by mere acts of Parliament, they have proceeded
to commence hostilities against us, and have endeav
ored to destroy us by fire and sword — our towns they
have burned, our brethren they have slain, our vessels
they have taken, and our goods they have spoiled.
And after all this wanton exertion of arbitrary power
is there the man, that has any of the feelings of
humanity left, who is not fired with a noble indigna
tion against such merciless tyrants, who have not only
brought upon us all the horrors of civil war, but have
also added a piece of barbarity unknown to Turks and
Mahommedan infidels ; yea, such as would be abhorred
and detested by the savages of the wilderness. I mean
their cruelly forcing our brethren, whom they have
taken prisoners, without any distinction of whig or
tory, to serve on board their ships of war, thereby
obliging them to fight against their brethren, their
wives and children, and to assist in plundering their
own estates. This, my brethren, is done by men, who
call themselves Christians, against their Christian

REV. SAMUEL WEST. 45
brethren — against men who till now gloried in the
name of Englishmen, and who were ever ready to
spend their lives and fortunes in the defence of British
rights. Tell it not in Gath, publish it not in the
streets of Askalon, lest it cause our enemies to rejoice,
and our adversaries to triumph. It is an indispensable
duty, my brethren, which we owe to God and our
country, to rouse up and bestir ourselves ; and being
animated with a noble zeal for the sacred cause of lib
erty, to defend our lives and fortunes to the shedding
of the last drop of blood. The love of our country,
the tender affection that we have for our wives and
children, and the regard that we ought to have for un
born posterity — yea, every thing that is dear and
sacred — do now loudly call on us to use our best en
deavors to save our country. We must turn our plow
shares into swords, and our pruning-hooks into spears,
and learn the art of self-defence against our enemies.
To be careless and remiss, or to neglect the cause of
our country through the base motives of avarice or
self-interest, will expose us, not only to the resent
ments of our fellow-creatures, but to the displeasure
of God Almighty. For to such base wretches, in such
a time as this, we may apply, with the utmost pro
priety, the passage in Jer. xlviii. 10 : ' Cursed be he
that doeth the work of the Lord deceitfully, and
cursed be he that keepeth back his sword from blood.'
To save our country from the hands of our oppressors
ought to be dearer to us than our lives, and next the
eternal salvation of our souls, the thing of greatest
importance — a duty so sacred that it can not be dis-

46 ELECTION SERMONS.
pensed with for the sake of our secular concerns.
Doubtless for this reason God has manifested his anger
against those who have refused to assist their country
against its cruel oppressors. Hence, in a case similar
to our own, when the Israelites were struggling to de
liver themselves from the tyranny of Jabin, the King
of Canaan, we find a most bitter curse denounced
against those who refused to grant their assistance in
the common cause. Vide Judges, v. 23 : ' Curse ye
Meroz (said the angel of the Lord), curse ye bitterly
the inhabitants thereof, because they came not up to
the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against
the mighty.' Now, if such a bitter curse is denounced
against those who refused to assist their country
against oppressors, what a dreadful doom are those
exposed to, who have not only refused to assist their
country in this time of distress, but have, through
motives of interest or ambition, shown themselves ene
mies to their country, by opposing us in the measures
we have taken, and by openly favoring the British
Parliament. He, that is so lost to humanity as to be
willing to sacrifice his country for the sake of avarice
or ambition, has arrived at the highest stage of wick
edness that human nature is capable of, and deserves a
much worse name than I at present care to give him;
but I think 1 may with propriety say that such a per
son has forfeited his right to human society, and that
he ought to take up his abode, not among the savage
men, but among the savage beasts of the luilderness."
The calm opening of this discourse, the careful, argu
mentative manner, in which he attempted to justify

REV. SAMUEL WEST. 47
the course of the Colonies in asserting their indepen
dence, and to prove that it was the duty of every one to
yield obedience to their authority, gave no forewarning
of this terrible peroration. By slow steps, but gath
ering impetus and power, as he moved on in the path
of his great argument, he at last turned in fierce wrath
on the enemies of his country ; and, prophet-like,
hurled the vengeance of God against all who, in this
hour of trial and gloom, stood aloof from its holy
cause. The very slowness with which the storm had
gathered made its bursting the more terrible; and
the excited accents of the indignant minister of God
rolled like angry thunder over the silent, breathless
assembly. Its retiring murmurs left every soul se
rious and solemn ; and a sense of greatly added re
sponsibility rested on all, as, with a changed voice
and countenance, he closed the sacred volume, say
ing, "Let us look upon freedom from the power of
tyrants as a blessing that can not be purchased too
dear, and let us bless God that he has so far delivered
us from the idolatrous reverence which men are so apt
to pay to arbitrary tyrants, and let us pray that he
would be pleased graciously to perfect the mercy he
has begun to show us, by confounding the devices of
our enemies, and bringing their counsels to naught,
and by establishing our just rights and privileges upon
such a firm and lasting basis that the powers of earth
and hell shall not prevail against it."
This sermon rung like a trumpet-call through the
Colony, strengthening wavering hearts, and giving re
newed boldness and fervor to the clergy every where.

CHAPTER IV.
Sermons during the War. — Sermon of Samuel Webster, in 1777. — Bold
AND PATRIOTIC PrAYER. — DISCOURSE OF PlIILIP PAYSON, OF CHELSEA, 1778. —
Eloquent Appeal. — Prophetic Vision.
I shall give but two more of these election ser
mons, delivered at the center of influence in the New
England Colonies, as illustrations of the spirit that
animated the clergy as the war progressed, and to show
that, as Aaron and Hur upheld the hands of Moses
when Joshua smote the Amalekites, so they strength
ened and stayed up the hands of the civil power
through the long struggle of the Eevolution. In the
spring of 1777, after the successive disasters that had
overtaken the American army — the defeat on Long
Island, the fall of New York and Fort Washington,
and the flight of Washington and his disorganized army
through the Jerseys — a year wrapped in gloom and
fraught with sad forebodings, with only one gleam of
sunshine — the battle of Princeton — to cheer the des
ponding hearts of the patriots, we find Samuel Web
ster preaching the election sermon before the House of
Eepresentatives, from Ezekiel, 45th chapter, part of 8th
and 9 th verses : " My princes shall no more oppress my
people, and the rest of the land shall they give to the
house of Israel, according to their tribes. Thus saith
the Lord God. Let it suffice you, 0 princes of Israel,
remove violence and spoil, and execute judgment and

REV. SAMUEL WEBSTER. 49
justice, and take away your exactions from my people,
saith the Lord God."
He commenced his discourse by congratulating them
on the delivery of Boston from the hands of the
British. He then enlarged on the duty of princes and
rulers, but, ignoring those which the mother country
wishes to fasten on them, addresses those appointed by
the people, and says : "As to old-fashioned rulers, hack
neyed to the ways of the world, the voice from heaven
cries to them to oppress no more. It cries most sol
emnly in my text. But, as such rulers hear neither God
nor man, we have no immediate business with them.
And God grant toe never may." The sermon is full of
biting sarcasm on the British government, and solemn
appeals to the representatives of the people to be
true to their trust, telling them however that, not
withstanding their best endeavors, they will all be in
vain, unless they depend on something besides an arm
of flesh — that their great reliance must be on the Lord
of Hosts, who was always able to deliver Israel in the
most discouraging circumstances, and will deliver their
country from its oppressors if the people call upon him
in truth : — he closed with this remarkable prayer :
"Awake, 0 Lord, for our help, and come and save us.
Awake, 0 Lord, as in ancient times. Do with them,
0 Lord, if it be thy will, as thou didst unto the Midi-
anites and their confederates, and- to Sisera, and to
Jabin, when they unjustly and without provocation
invaded thy people, and make their lords, and nobles,
and great commanders like Oreb and Zeeb, and like
Zeba and Zalmunna. Though these angry brethren

50 SERMONS DURING THE WAR.
profess to worship the same God with us, yet because
it is in somewhat different mode they seem to have
said, come let us take the houses of God in possession.
Accordingly they have vented a peculiar spite against
the houses of God, defaced and defiled thy holy and
beautiful sanctuaries where our fathers ivorshiped
thee, turning them into houses of merchandise and re
ceptacles of beasts, and some of them they have torn
in pieces and burned with fire. Therefore we humbly
pray that thou wilt hedge up their icay, and not suffer
them to proceed and prosper. But put them to flight
speedily, if it be thine holy will, and make them run
fast as a wheel downward, or as fast as stubble and
chaff is driven before the furious lohirhuind. As the
fire consumes the wood, and sometimes lays waste
whole forests on the mountains, so let them be laid
waste and consumed if they obstinately persist in their
bloody designs against us. Lord, raise a dreadful
tempest and affright them, and let thy tremendous
storms make them quake with fear, and pursue them
with thine arrow, till they are brought to see that God
is with us of a truth, and fighteth for us, and so return
to their own lands, covered with shame and confusion,
and humble themselves before thee, and seek to appease
thine anger by a bitter repentance for their murderous
designs. And let them have neither credit nor courage
to come out any more against us. That so all nations,
seeing thy mighty power and thy marvellous works,
may no more call themselves supreme, but know and
acknoioledge that thou art God alone, the only supreme
Governor among men, doing whatsoever pleaseth thee.

REV. PHILIP PAYSON. 51
And so let thy glorious name be magnified in all the
earth, till time shall be no more. And let all the people
say Amen and Amen." [1778.]
As the clergy performed the most active and im
portant part in the education of the people of New
England for the Eevolution, as well as strengthened
and encouraged them in the darkest hours, by patriotic
exhortations and promises of final deliverance, and
heaven's richest blessings on them and their posterity,
for their noble endeavors and heroic sacrifices ; so they
rejoiced with them in every success, and declared it to
be the sign of God's blessing and the precursor of a
glorious morning at hand. Thus, in 1778, at the
turning point of the struggle, directly after Burgoyne's
overthrow, and while the land was still rocking to the
enthusiastic rejoicings of the people, who believed they
saw in it the first gleam of the coming dawn, Philip
Payson, of Chelsea, in his sermon before the House of
Eepresentatives, gave utterance to the universal feel
ing. He took for his text Galatians, iv. 26, 27 :
" But Jerusalem, which is above, is free, which is the
mother of us all. For it is written, Eejoice thou
barren that bearest not, break forth, and cry thou that
travaillest not, for the desolate hath many more chil
dren than she which hath a husband."
Like all those who preached on these anniversaries,
the main body of the discourse was adapted to meet
the character and duties of the audience of rulers be
fore him. He spoke of the blessings of liberty, called

52 REV. PHILIP PAYSON.
their attention to the different forms of government
adapted to different states of society, as Greece and
Eome, showed that the great requisites of a stable
government were education, religion, and patriotism,
as well as courage, military discipline, and union ; and
then passed to the description of just rulers, their high
vocation and responsibility, and pointed out their sol
emn duties, and said, " When these are the character
istics of our country we shall be like the Jerusalem
above." Fired with the contemplation, and rising with his
theme, he suddenly exclaims : " Indulgent heaven
seems to invite and urge us to accept the blessing. A
kind and wonderful Providence has conducted us, by
astonishing steps, as it were, within sight of the prom
ised land. We stand this day upon Pisgah's top, the
children of the free woman, the descendants of a pious
race, who, from the love of liberty and the fear of God,
spent their treasure and spilt their blood. Animated
by the same great spirit of liberty, and determined,
under God, to be free, these states have made one of
the noblest stands against despotism and tyranny that
can be met with in the annals of history, ancient or
modern. One common cause, one common danger, and
one common interest, have united us to the most vig
orous exertions. We have been all along the scorn
and derision of our enemies — but the care of heaven,
and the charge of God. And hence our cause and
union, like the rising sun, have shone brighter and
brighter. Thanks be to God ! we this day behold, in
the fullness of our spirit, the great object of our wishes,

REV. PHILIP PAYSON. 53
of our toils and ware, brightening in our view. The
battles we have already fought, and the victories we
have won (vid. Saratoga), the pride of tyranny that
must needs have been humbled, mark the characters
of the freemen of America with distinguished honor,
and will be read with astonishment by generations yet
unborn." He continued for some time to speak in this strain,
of what God had done for us, as an evidence that he
Watched over our destinies, and would take care of
our interests even to the end ; and then, in view of the
wrongs we had suffered, exclaimed \ " Is it possible for
us to behold the ashes, the ruins of large and opulent
towns that have been burnt in the most wanton man-*
ner ; to view the graves of our dear countrymen, whose
blood has been most cruelly spilt ; to hear the cries and
screeches of our ravished matrons and virgins, that had
the misfortune to fall into the enemies' hands — and
think of returning to the cruel and bloody power
which has done all these tilings ? No ; we are not to
suppose such a thought can dwell in the mind of a free
and sensible American. The same feelings in nature
that led a Peruvian prince to choose the other place,
must also teach us to prefer connection with any other
people on the globe rather than with those from whom
we have experienced such unrighteous severities and
unparalleled cruelties." He then paid a short tribute
to the good who had fallen, and who, he said, " shall
be held in everlasting remembrance ;" and urged on
all the necessity of continued, untiring effort, if they
would win the glorious prize of complete independence.

54 REV. PHILIP PAYSON.
While, in imagination, he thus beheld our final tri
umph, and called up before his mental vision the spec
tacle of a free people, guiding and controlling, under
God, their own destinies, he seemed suddenly to be
filled with prophetic fire, and rapt with the inspiring
view that, far beyond the bloody battle-fields, rose
on the future, he exclaimed : " To anticipate the
future glory of America from our present hopes and
prospects is ravishing and transporting to the mind.
In this light we behold our country beyond the reach
of all oppressors — under the great charter of inde
pendence, enjoying the purest liberty, beautiful and
strong in its union, the envy of tyrants and devils, but
the delight of God and all good men, a refuge to the
oppressed, the joy of the earth ; each state happy in a
wise model of government, and abounding in wise
men, patriots and heroes ; the strength and ability of
the whole continent collected in a grave and vener
able council, at the head of all, seeking and pro
moting the good of the present and future generations.
Hail, my happy country, saved of the Lord !
Happy land ! emerged from the deluges of the
old world, drowned in luxury and lewd ex
CESS ! Hail, happy posterity, that shall reap
THE PEACEFUL FRUITS OF OUR SUFFERINGS, FATIGUES
AND WAR !"
It is needless to dwell on the encouraging, inspirit
ing effect of such a sermon as this on both the Eepre-
sentatives in Provincial Congress assembled, and on
the clergy and their congregations throughout the
Colonies ; but the prophecy and invocation at the close

REV. PHILIP PAYSON. 55
are certainly most noteworthy, and seem like a direct
inspiration from heaven, not merely as foretelling the
future independence and glory of the country, but
the exact form and character of the government so
boldly sketched. Through three years of doubtful
war, and all the troubles, and dangers, and uncertainty,
that surrounded and retarded the formation of a new
government, he saw the union of states, "each one
happy in a wise model of government," while "the
strength and ability of the whole continent, collected in
a grave and venerable council, is at the head of all,
seeking and promoting the good of the present and fu
ture generations." This uttered fifty years after would
have been literal history. Here was the outline of
the great confederacy which was eventually formed
with so much labor, and which made us " the refuge
of the oppressed, the joy of the earth." One can
imagine with what intent attitude and breathless1
silence the Eepresentatives listened to this prophetic
outburst, and for the moment forgot the perils that
surrounded them, and the sore trials that awaited
them in the contemplation of this vision of their
country free and happy. It seemed as if God himself
were calling on them to untiring exertion and firm
trust by his promise of success.

CHAPTER V.
Personal Influence of the Clergy. — Appointment of Chaplains. — Corres
pondence BETWEEN THE MINISTERS OF CONNECTICUT AND MASSACHUSETTS. —
Thaxter, Foster and Payson fighting at Lexington and Concord. —
Washington asks Congress for Chaplains. — Number and Names of, in
the Army at Cambridge. — The Plan of one for two Regiments broken
up. — Washington's Second Letter to Congress on the Subject. — His
General Order respecting Chaplains. — David Ely. — Joseph Fish. — Jonah
Stearns. — John Mills. — David Caldwell. — Thomas Read. — Robert Da
vidson. — Elizur Goodrich. — Wm. Goriiam. — John Steele. — Francis Citm-
mings. — Azel Roe. — Hezekiah Balch. — Charles McKnight. — Manasseh
Cutler. — Nathan Strong. — Nathaniel Porter. — Annie Robins. — John
Cleveland.— Samuel McClintock. — Hezekiah Ripley. — Isaac Lewis. — Dr.
Latta. — De. Armstrong.
Having endeavored briefly to illustrate the influ
ence of the clergy on the Eevolution in New England,
by showing the systematic, direct power they brought
to bear on the representatives of the people, and
through them on every pastor and congregation in the
Colony, a power more formidable than could be wielded
by solemn acts of associations or synods, and as de
serving of special recognition as the organization of
town committees and the resolutions of councils of
safety ; I come now to speak more of personal influ
ence and actions, of individual clergymen in their re
spective circles and stations. The annual sermon
preached at the meeting of the representatives of the
people was a representative sermon. Its sentiments
were regarded as those of the great body of the clergy
throughout the Colony, and hence went before the peo-

PERSONAL INFLUENCE OF THE CLERGY. 57
pie with the highest authority and the most solemn
sanctions. They had, besides, the indorsement of the
civil power, and hence ceased to be individual views,
and became those of the clergy and the Provincial
Congress united. But as in the army and in the civil
government the great results finally reached are not to
be attributed exclusively to the official acts of bodies
of men or of those in high authority, so the tremen
dous influence wielded by the clergy was not wholly
confined to those acts sanctioned by councils or by
Congress. Patriotic, energetic individuals in all de
partments did their share of the work, and exhibited
traits of heroism and a devotion to the common cause
which entitle them to a place among the good and
great names of the Eevolution, that have become em
balmed in our memory, and consigned to a glorious
immortality. The appointment of clergymen to official positions
in the army and navy, under the designation of chap
lains, is a custom of long standing ; and, at the pre
sent day, among Christian nations is considered neces
sary to their complete organization. It would have
been natural, therefore, for Congress, as a mere matter
of custom, and in imitation of the mother country, to
appoint chaplains in the American army. They did
so ; and chaplains, at the present time, form a part of
our military organizations, and rank as officers, and
draw pay like them.' The propriety of this custom is
recognized by all — for the sick, the suffering and dying
need spiritual advisers as much as they do hospitals
and surgeons. 8*

58 PERSONAL INFLUENCE
But I do not design to speak of the office exclu
sively, or of those who simply discharged its duties
faithfully. A vast number were appointed more for
their outside general influence, than because they were
earnest, self-denying ministers of God — not that they
were not greatly esteemed and valued in this respect,
but they were bold and active patriots besides, stirring
up rebellion, encouraging the weak and timid by their
example as well as by their teachings, and inspiring
the brave and true with confidence by their heroism
and lofty trust in the righteousness of the cause they
vindicated. It is with this class of chaplains and
clergy that I have chiefly to do.
A chaplain, when taken prisoner, is usually treated
with great courtesy and consideration, but there was a
class of clergymen and chaplains in the Eevolution,
whom the British, when they once laid hands on them,
treated with the most barbarous severity. Dreading
them for the influence they wielded, and hating them
for the obstinacy, courage and enthusiasm they infused
into the rebels, they violated all the usages of war
among civilized nations, in order to inflict punishment
upon them.
Suffering for their patriotism, as these clergy did,
and expecting a halter if the Colonies should fail in
their effort to obtain freedom, they deserve to be re
membered with honor, and have their names go down
to immortality, linked with that most important
struggle in the world's history. In the first gathering
of the yeomanry at Lexington and Concord, as well as
afterwards in the miscellaneous enthusiastic assem-

OFTHECLERGY. 59
bling of the army around Bunker Hill, they bore an
important part, not merely as servants of God in the
discharge of their official duties, but as patriots — har
anguing the soldiers, and even leading them into the
conflict. The British were aware of the tremendous influence
the clergy wielded in the Colonies, and saw with alarm
that it was thrown on the side of rebellion. Indeed
they were accused of being at the bottom of it. In
1774, the Governor of Massachusetts refused the request
of the Assembly to appoint a fast; — " For," said he, " the
request was only to give an opportunity for sedition to
flow from the pulpit." "The taking away of civil
liberty," wrote the ministers of Connecticut to their
brethren of Boston, " will involve the ruin of religious
liberty also. * * * Bear your heavy load with
Christian fortitude and resolution." The. answer came
back : " While we complain to heaven and earth of
the cruel oppression we are under, we ascribe right
eousness to God. The surprising union of the Colonies
affords encouragement. It is an inexhaustible source
of comfort that the Lord omnipotent reigneth."
As before hostilities commenced, there was scarcely
a military muster at which they were not present, ex
horting the militia to stand up manfully for the cause
of God — on Some occasions saying, " Behold, God him
self is with us for our captain, and his priests with
sounding trumpets to cry the alarm " — it was to ba
expected, when war actually broke out, they would be
found in the ranks of the rebels, urging forward what
they had so long proclaimed as a religious duty. The

60 PERSONAL INFLUENCE
first outbreak at Lexington and Concord gave them no
opportunity to exhibit their zeal officially, and so some
shouldered their muskets, and fought like common
soldiers. Among these were Thaxter, of Westford,
and Foster, who showed that they could fight as well
as pray.
There, too, was the amiable and learned Payson, of
Chelsea. He was so adverse to bloodshed and all the
horrors of war that he had felt it his duty to preach
patience and even submission. His bolder and more
resolute brethren near him took such umbrage at this
that they refused to let him preach in their pulpits.
They wanted no conciliatory doctrines taught to their
people. The brutal outrage at Lexington transformed
this peaceful scholar and meek divine into the fiery,
intrepid soldier, and seizing a musket he put himself
at the head of a party, and led them forward to the
attack. The gentle voice that had so long spoken only
words of peace suddenly rung like that of a prophet
of old. A body of British soldiers advancing along
the road, he poured into them such a destructive volley
that the whole were slain or taken prisoners. He wag
a man of peace and conciliation, but the first citizen's
blood that crimsoned the green sward made a clean
sweep of all his arguments and objections, and he en
tered with his whole soul into the struggle.
At a later day, when Washington assumed command
of the army at Cambridge, he found chaplains attached
to the different regiments sent from the various Colo^
nies. — some of them volunteers without pay, and others
regularly appointed by the Provincial Congress. As the

THECLERGY. 61
organization of the army was perfected, measures were
adopted for their provision by the general Congress,
and their number and the regiments to which they be
longed formed a part of the regular army returns of
Washington. At first they were not numerous, as the government
had taken no action on the subject, but its attention
was soon called to it, and on May 25th, 1775, we find
a committee of the Provincial Congress of Massachu
setts reporting :
" Wliereas it has been represented to this Congress
that several ministers of the religious assemblies within
this Colony have expressed their willingness to attend
the army* in the capacity of chaplain, as they may be
directed by the Congress, therefore
Mesolved, That it be and is hereby recommended to
the ministers of the several religious assemblies within
the Colony that, with the leave of their congregations,
they attend said army in their several towns to the
number of thirteen at one time, during the time the
army shall be encamped, and that they make known
their resolution to the Congress thereon, or to the
committee of safety, as soon as may be."
Washington, who in the French and Indian war had
more than once requested the Governor of Virginia to
allow him a chaplain for his regiment, saw with the
deepest gratification this early determination of the
New England Cqjonies to supply their regiments with
regular chaplains, and encouraged it in every way he
" Under Artemas Ward.

62 CHAPLAINS.
could. On August 15th, 1775, he reported fifteen
chaplains who performed service for twenty-three regi
ments, while twenty-nine were without any. In Sep
tember there were twenty regiments supplied and
twenty vacancies. On October 17th there were twenty-
two against nineteen ; November 18th, twenty-one
against eighteen ; December 13th, nineteen to twenty-
two ; and January 9th, 1776, nine to eighteen.* On
the last of December, 1775, Washington wrote to the
Continental Congress as follows :
" I have long had it in my mind to mention it to
Congress, that frequent applications have been made
to me respecting the chaplains' pay, which is too small
to encourage men of abilities. Some of them who
have left their flocks are obliged to pay the parson
acting for them more than they receive.. I need not
point out the great utility of gentlemen, whose lives
and conversation are unexceptionable, being employed
in that service in this army. There are two ways of
making it worthy the attention of such. One is an
* The warrants varied somewhat in the different Colonies, but the
following form, adopted in Connecticut, will answer as a sample of all : 
" To Rev.  , greeting : — Reposing special trust and confidence
in your piety, ability, fidelity and good conduct, I do hereby appoint
you, the said  , a chaplain of the  regiment, and do hereby
authorize and empower you to exercise the several acts and duties of
your office and station as chaplain of the said regiment, which you are
faithfully to perform in a due and religious discharge thereof, accord
ing to the important trust reposed in you, for which this is your war
rant. " Given under my hand and seaL-at-arms, hi the Colony aforesaicj
this — day of  , a. d. 17*76,

CHAPLAINS. 63
advancement of their pay ; the other, that one chap
lain be appointed to two regiments. This last, I think,
can be done without inconvenience. I beg leave to
recommend this matter to Congress, whose sentiments
hereon I shall impatiently expect."
At first the names of the chaplains were inserted in
the army returns. Thus, on the 8th of January, 1776,
we find the following returns :
eeglment. commander. chaplain.
1st (Artillery) . . . Col. Knox  Abiel Leonard.
2d (Foot)  Col. Reed  Hezekiah Smith.
3d "  Ebenezer Learned  Name not given.
4th "  John Nixon  .Hezekiah Smith.
5th "  Stark, of Vermont  Noah Cooke.
6th "  Asa Whitcomb  Isaac Mansfield, jr.
7th "  CoL Prescott  None.
8th "  Enoch Poor  Noah Cooke.
9th "  James M. Varnum  Ebenezer David.
10th "  Samuel H. Parsons  None.
1 lth "  Daniel Hitchcock  Oliver Noble.
12th '• ....:. .Moses Little  Oliver Noble.
ISth "  Joseph Reed  None.
14th "  John Glover  None.
15th "  John Patterson  David Avery.
16th "  Paul D. Sargeant.  None.
17th "  Jedediah Huntington, Conn. . .John Ellis.
18th "  Edmund Phinney  None.
19th "  Charles Webb  None.
20th "  Col. Arnold  Abiel Leonard.
21st "  Jonathan Ward  None.
22d "  Samuel Wyllys  John Ellis.
23d "  John Bailey  None.
24th "  John Greator  None.
26th "  Wm. Bond  Ebenezer David.
26th "  Loammi Baldwin  None.
27th "  Israel Hutchinson  Isaac Mansfield.

64 LETTER OF WASHINGTON.
Here are only nine chaplains to twenty-seven regi
ments. After this, as before stated, the names were
left out in the army returns, and the number and the
regimants to which each was attached alone given.
When the army took up its march for New York this
arrangement was very much broken up. Many clergy
men had left their parishes only temporarily, and now
rejoined them ; while some, unable to be so far from
their families, surrendered their positions to others.
Besides, the absence of Arnold's regiment in Canada,
and the separation of the army — a part being left un
der Artemas Ward to protect Boston — had rendered
the plan by which one chaplain was to serve for two
regiments no longer practicable. Washington, depre
cating this state of things, wrote to Congress from
New York, on the 1st of July, 1776, respecting it.
He said : " I would also beg leave to mention to
Congress the necessity there is of some new regulation
being entered into respecting the chaplains of the
army. They will remember that applications were
made to increase their pay, which was conceived too
low for their support, and that it was proposed, if it
could not be done for the whole, that the number
should be lessened, and one be appointed to two regi
ments, with an additional allowance. This latter ex
pedient was adopted, and while the army continued
altogether at one encampment, answered well, or at
least did not produce many inconveniences ; but the
army being now differently circumstanced from what
it then was, part here, part in Boston, and a third
part detached to Canada, has introduced much confu-

LETTER OF WASHINGTON. 65
sion and disorder in this instance ; nor do I know how
it is possible to remedy the evil but by affixing one to
each regiment, with salaries competent to their sup
port. No shifting, no changing from one to the other,
can answer the purpose, and in many cases it could
not be done, although the regiments could consent, as
when detachments are composed of unequal numbers,
or ordered from different posts. Many more incon
veniences might be pointed out, but these, it is pre
sumed, will sufficiently show the defect of the present
establishment, and the propriety of an alteration.
What that alteration shall be Congress will please to
determine." The difficulties surrounding him, the gathering of
the hostile forces on every side, and the momentous
interests at stake in the great battle he knew to be
close at hand, could not divert his mind from the im
portance of having a full supply of chaplains in the
army. As neither in the wilds of the Alleghanies,
surrounded by hostile Indians, so neither here, at the
head of a great army, did he forget to urge on those
in authority to provide him with God-fearing men.
Fearless in combat, unshaken where others trembled
and were dismayed, and taking without hesitation the
fate of the nation on his great heart, he yet turned
ever to the arm and protection of Him, without whose
favor human exertion is in vain.
Congress immediately adopted his views, and Wash
ington having received a dispatch to that effect, eight
days after issued the following general order :

66 WASHINGTON'S ORDER.
" New Yoek, July 9th, 1776.
" The honorable Continental Congress having been
pleased to allow a chaplain to each regiment, with the
pay of thirty-three and one-third dollars per month,
the colonels or commanding officers of each regiment
are directed to procure chaplains — accordingly persons
of good character and exemplary lives — to see that all
inferior officers and soldiers pay them a suitable re
spect, and attend carefully upon religious exercises.
TJie blessing and protection of 'Heaven are at all times
necessary, but especially is it in times of public dis
tress and danger. The General hopes and trusts that
every officer and man will endeavor so to live and act
as becomes a Christian soldier, defending the dearest
rights and liberties of his country."
Before his plans, however, for putting the chaplains
on a proper footing, could be wholly carried out, the
disastrous battle of Long Island, and the fall of New
York, almost broke up his imposing army. The cap
ture of Fort Washington, and the flight of the disheart
ened fugitive band through New Jersey, completed its
demoralization, and compelled him to defer further
action, till he could once more reorganize his forces.
Of course it is impossible, and would not be desira
ble if possible, to give a detailed biography of each
chaplain who served in the army. Many served only
for a short time, others performed simply the prescribed
routine of duties faithfully, and a narrative of their
actions would be only a recital of their religious ser
vices before their respective regiments. Doubtless

THECLERGY. 67
there are many personal anecdotes and touching inci
dents connected with these, which would possess deep
interest if they had been preserved, but they perished
with their authors, or their immediate descendants,
and have passed away never to be recalled.
They, therefore, can only be alluded to ; while from
the multitude of others, better known, I shall select
those specially distinguished for their patriotism and
who stand in history as representative men. It is
necessary only to mention a few of the names of these
clergymen, to show what strong minds and clear heads
stood by, and sustained the cause of the Colonies, and
furnish abundant proof of the debt of gratitude the
country owes them.
There was Dr. David. Ely, of Huntington, Conn.,
who, though surrounded by tories, preached rebellion
so warmly and effectually, that the latter declared that,
when the rebellion was put down, they would hang
him on an oak that stood near his own church.
Joseph Fish, of Duxbury, Mass., who, although sev
enty-six years of age, when invited to address the people,
assembled at the call of Washington, for immediate
volunteers, said, after a stirring harangue, "Were it not
that my nerves are unstrung, and my limbs enfeebled
with age, on such a call as you have, I think I should
willingly quit the desk, put off my priestly garments,
buckle on the harness, and, with trumpet in hand,
hasten to battle."
Jonah Stearns, of New Hampshire, not only
preached rebellion, but sacrificed most of his worldly
wealth to sustain it : and when returning from a state

68 THECLERGY.
convention at Exeter, called to decide on a course of
action, and to which he was a member, said to his boys
assembled to hear his report, after answering their eager
questions : " If the cause succeeds, it will be a great
blessing to the country ; but if it should fail, your old
father's head will soon be a button for a halter !" and
then sent them into the army, bidding them strike
manfully for freedom.
John Mills, of Delaware, though of a nervous, timid
temperament, in the cause of liberty knew no fear ; and
only a few days before the Declaration of Independence
preached to his people from 1 Kings, xii. 16, the lan
guage used by the revolting tribes in the times of Ee-
hoboam : " What portion have we in David, neither
have we an inheritance in the son of Jesse. To your
tents, oh Israel .' " — telling them in impassioned elo
quence that they were like the revolting tribes whom
the king "refused to hear," though their "cause" was
" the Lord's ;" and that the time had come to throw
off their allegiance to king George, and be free forever.
Dr. David Cauldwell, of Pennsylvania, had his house
plundered, his library and furniture burned, while he
was hunted like a common felon over the country, on
account of his devotion to the cause of liberty.
Thomas Eead, D. D, of the same State, in 1776,
shouldered his musket, and, with forty or fifty others,
marched to Philadelphia to aid in defending it against
Howe ; and the next year saved Washington from
being overwhelmed at Elk Ferry by his knowledge of
the country.
Df. Eobert Davidson, of Maryland, addressed at

THEIRPATRIOTISM. 69
different places the assembled troops, from 1 Chronicles,
v. 22 : " For there fell down many slain, because the
war was of God," creating the most intense enthu
siasm among officers and men.
William Graham, of Paxton, near Harrisburg, when
he saw great backwardness in the young men of his
parish to enlist in a company of volunteer riflemen,
which the Governor had recommended, stepped out,
and had his own name enrolled, and thus, by his ex
ample, shamed them into patriotism.
The name of the learned Elizur Goodrich was in
every patriot's mouth in Connecticut.
John Steele, of Cumberland, Pa., served as captain,
and lead the advance company of nine hundred men
in their march to the seat of war, and often preached
with his gun standing by his side.
Francis Cummings was present at all the Mecklen
burg meetings, and -. afterwards fought in several bat
tles, and though eighty years of age, when South
Carolina threatened nullification, said, with the fire
of seventy-six burning in his aged eye, to a brother
clergyman who, in a moment of excitement, declared
he was ready to draw his sword against the general
government : " If you dare do so, I will draw my
sword again, and cut you down ! "
Azel Eoe, to make the mihtia of his parish fight,
put himself under the enemy's fire, and refused to re
tire till he had received their promise that, if he would,
they would fight it out ; and afterwards was taken
prisoner, and thrown into the infamous Sugar House
of New York.

70 THECLERGY,
Hezekiah James Balch, was member and chief actor
in the Mecklenburg Convention, and died soon after
that famous declaration was given to the world.
Charles McKnight, of Shrewsbury, who, on account
of his devotion to the cause of liberty, and the gallant
conduct of his patriotic sons on the field of battle,
was thrown into prison, and treated with a brutality
that would disgrace a savage. His constitution broke
down under it, and soon after his release he died, an
other victim laid upon the altar of his country.
A similar list of chaplains might be made out, an
account of whose services has never been preserved ;
only here and there an incident snatched from oblivion
remains to show what those services must have been,
and make us regret that so much has been lost.
There were Manassah Cutler, D. D., of Killingsly,
Conn., the friend of Washington and Franklin, who
served two campaigns; Dr. Nathan Strong, of Coventry,
of the same State, who not only served as chaplain, but
wrote stirring papers on the rights of the people, which
were circulated far and wide ; Dr. Nathaniel Porter,
six feet high, with hair black as a raven's wing, who, with
Wingate's regiment, marched on foot, like a common
soldier, through the wilderness to Fort Independence
on Lake Champlain ; Eev. Amnie Buhnah Bobbins,
of Branford, Mass., who accompanied Schuyler's bri
gade as a volunteer to Canada, and became an angel of
mercy to the army when it was stricken down with the
small pox — not only praying morning and evening
with the regiment, but nursing the sick and relieving
the destitute and suffering, till his herculean frame at

THEIR PATRIOTISM. 71
last broke down under his incessant labors and ex
posure, and he returned home — adding one more to the
number of brave hearts who held their lives of small
account, when compared with the welfare of their
country. To these might be added John Cleveland, of Can
terbury, Conn., who as far back as 1758 was chaplain
to a provincial regiment, and stood amid the raining
balls that smote Lord Howe at Ticonderoga, and after
wards, in the same capacity, went to Louisburg, and
witnessed the terrific siege of six weeks, which ended
in the fall of that Gibraltar of America. Used to the
hazards of the battle-field, as soon as the Eevolution
broke out, he offered his services to the Continental
army at Cambridge, and accompanied it to New York,
to see it melt away like the frosts of morning before
the enemy : —
Dr. Samuel McClintock, of Greenland, N. H., so
often represented in the battle of Bunker Hill in his
robes of office, and who sent four sons into the army,
only one of whom lived to hear the anthems of peace
that rolled over the liberated land : —
Dr. Hezekiah Eipley, the friend of Washington,
whose commanding form was often seen stooping over
the couch of the sick and wounded, and whose elo
quent voice never failed to animate the troops, and
who heard without a sigh of regret that his house,
furniture, and library had been committed to the
flames by the exasperated foe.
Neither should Dr. Isaac Lewis, of Stratford, Conn.,
be forgotten, who, when the British attempted to land

72 THECLERGY.
at Norwalk, assembled with his people to repel them,
and saw a cannon ball smite the earth within three
feet of him, without disturbing his serenity. Forced
back by superior numbers, they witnessed their town
given to the flames. Only one house, too remote to
attract the attention of the invaders, was left standing,
and into this the pastor gathered his people, and
preached to them from Isaiah, lxiv. 11, 12 : " Our
holy and beautiful house, where our fathers praised
thee, is burned with fire, and all our pleasant things
are laid waste. Wilt thou refrain thyself for these
things, 0 Lord, wilt thou hold thy peace, and afflict us
very sore ?" Chaplain to the regiment of Col. Philip
P. Brady, at Bergen, he, after seven months of arduous
labor, was seized with the camp-fever, and brought so
low that his life was despaired of. The good old pa
triot, however, lived to see the country, for which he
had prayed, and toiled, and suffered, free and happy.
The brave Dr. Latta, of Lancaster Co., Pa., not
only served as chaplain, but on one occasion, when an
unusual number of his parishioners were drafted into
the army, in order to encourage them, shouldered his
knapsack, and accompanied them as a common soldier
on their campaign.
Dr. Armstrong, of Maryland, served first in the
ranks as a volunteer, and afterwards, when licensed to
preach, became chaplain, and continued with the army
till the overthrow of the British at Yorktown.
John Martin, after praying with the soldiers at
Bunker Hill, seized a musket and fought gallantly
to the close of the battle. A day or - two after he

THEIRPATRIOTISM. 73
preached to the remnants of his shattered regiment
from Nehemiah iv. 14 : " And I said unto the nobles
and to the rulers, and to the rest of the people, Be ye
not afraid of them."
Nathaniel Bartlett, of Beading, chaplain awhile to
Putnam, was accustomed to make his parochial visits
with a musket on his shoulder, to protect himself from
the tories who had sworn to hang him, and kept his
garret full of gunpowder, for the use of his parishion
ers in case of an attack.
All these, and a hundred other great and good men,
by their example and eloquence fed the fires of liberty,
and sustained the courage of the people. Men of
learning and culture, they were looked up to for ad
vice and counsel — whose praise was not only in all the
churches, but throughout the land, for their integrity,
ability and patriotism. These formed a host of de
voted laborers in the common cause, but more than
this, their prayers arose incessantly, from camp and
field, that God would defend the right, and save his
people. These last are counted as nothing by the his
torian, but we may rest assured that they did more
than resolutions of Congress, and acts of committees
of safety, towards achieving our liberties. One may
consider it beneath the dignity of history to put them
among the causes that led ultimately to our success :
but when that history comes to be read in the light of
eternity, the enthusiasm of volunteers, and the steady
courage of the disciplined battalions, will sink into in
significance beside the devout prayers and faith of
these men of God. 4

CHAPTER VI.
JONAS CLARK.
The Pastor of Lexington.— nis Ministerial Life.— Early Teachings. — Pa
triotic Conduct and Ability as a Statesman. — Hancock and Adams find
Refuge in his House. — News of the Approach of the Enemt. — His Ac
count of it.— Summoning of the Militia. — Scene on the Green. — Approach
of the Enemy. — The Slaughter.— Mr. Clark among his slain Parishion
ers. — His Feelings and Peediction. — His Death.
In writing the biographies of the illustrious, patri
otic clergy and chaplains of the Eevolution, I can
commence the list with no worthier name than Jonas
Clark, the pastor of the quiet town of Lexington.
This obscure New England village has become as well
known, throughout the civilized world, as Eome is.
To human observation there was nothing in passing
events to justify a prediction of its future renown, but
that inscrutable Providence, that weaves the destinies
of nations as well as of men, was preparing to make
that unobtrusive spot the beacon light of the world,
and its name the watchword of freemen for all time.
Among the agents designed to bring about this extra
ordinary result no better one could have been found
than Jonas Clark.
Ho was born in Newton, Mass., Dec. 25th, 1730.
Graduating at Cambridge at the early age of twen
ty-two, he immediately entered on his theological
studies, and when but twenty-five years of age was
ordained pastor of Lexington. Here he settled on a

PATRIOTIC CONDUCT. 75
little farm, and, with a salary of eighty pounds a year,
and twenty cords of wood, pursued the quiet, retired
life of a country minister. Grave and dignified in the
pulpit, yet earnest in manner, he presented the truths
of the Gospel with a fervor and power that always
commanded the deepest attention of his hearers. " His
voice was powerful and agreeable, and when excited by
his subject, which was often the case, it extended far
beyond the bounds of the meeting-house, and could be
heard distinctly by those who were anywhere in the
immediate neighborhood."
Uniting the life of farmer with that of village pas
tor, his life seemed destined to flow on evenly, and un
noticed by the great world without, to its close. But
when the trouble between the Colonies and the mother
country commenced, he stepped at once from his ob
scurity, and became known throughout all the region
as one. of the most uncompromising patriots of the
day. Earnestly, yet without passion, he discussed
from the pulpit the great questions at issue, and that
powerful voice thundered forth the principles of per
sonal, civil, and rehgious liberty, and the right of re
sistance, in tones as earnest and effective as it had the
doctrine of salvation by the cross.
Long before it, was certain that the quarrel must
come to blows, he had so thoroughly indoctrinated his
people with these great truths, that no better spot on
the continent could have been found for the British first
to try the terror of their arms, and make the experiment
to subjugate the Colonists by force. His congregation
was ripe for revolution, ready to fight and to die rather

76 JONAS CLARK.
than yield to arbitrary force. His wife was cousin to
John Hancock, and thus the latter became a frequent
visitor at his house. Whether the pastor influenced
Hancock, or Hancock the pastor, is of little conse
quence ; they were harmonious on the question that
agitated the Colonies. The conversation of these two
patriots, as they surveyed the vast interests at stake,
and the fearful struggle they believed to be unavoid
able, and the words of courage uttered in that quiet
parsonage, would make a heroic page in American his
tory, could they have been preserved. The Eev. Wil
liam Ware, of Cambridge, in writing to Dr. Sprague,
says, " It would not be beyond the truth to assert that
there was no person at that time and in that vicinity
— not only no clergyman, but no other person of what
ever calling or profession, who took a firmer stand
for the liberties of the country, or was more ready to
perform the duties and endure the sacrifices of a pa
triot, than the minister of Lexington. He was con
sidered, moreover, not only as a person of great ardor
of temperament as a politician — the first to move him
self and set others in motion on great emergencies —
but also as a person of great abilities, whose judgment
was one more than others to be respected and relied
upon. No one than he better understood the state of
the question as between the Colonies and England ¦
nor were there any who, earlier than he, or with more
talent at the town meetings, and at other places and
times, argued the great topics on which differences had
arisen, and then, through the representatives of the
town, presented the arguments and conclusions at

ABILITY AS A STATESMAN. 77
which they had arrived, in papers which he had pre
pared, to the General Court, at their various session."
The people had become so thoroughly indoctrinated
in his views, and been so animated by his appeals from
the pulpit and in public meetings, that they had them
embodied in instructions to their delegate to the Pro
vincial Legislature as the expression of their wishes
and determination. Those instructions remain to this
day, and are engrossed on the town records as a stand
ing memorial not only of his patriotism, but his ability
as a stateman.
Mr. Everett, in speaking of these papers, says, " Al
though the part taken by Lexington was in full accord
ance with the course pursued by many other towns in
the Province, there is nothing invidious in the remark,
that this document, in which the principles and opin
ions of the town are embodied, has few equals, and no
superiors among the productions of that class. They
are well known to have proceeded from his pen, who,
for many years previous to the Eevolution to the close
of his life, exercised a well deserved ascendency in the
public concerns of the town. Mr. Clark was of a class
of citizens who rendered services second to no others
in enlightening and animating the popular mind on
the great question at issue, I mean the patriotic clergy
of New England."
It was to a congregation educated by such a man
that Providence allowed to be entrusted the momen
tous events of the 19th of April, events which were to
decide more than the fate of a continent — that of civil
liberty the world over. " No single individual," says

78 JONAS CLARK.
a distinguished man, " probably did so much to edu
cate the people up to that point of intelligence, firm
ness, and courage, as their honored and beloved pastor."
If he had been opposed to resistance, or an advocate
of timorous, non-committal measures, where would
have been the fiery cross that flew from limit to limit
of the thirteen Colonies, and set the hearts of men on
fire, and made the shout, " to arms ! to arms !" roll
like thunder over the land !
Adams and Hancock, when proscribed by the royal
government, found an asylum in his house. They
were there when the first verbal message came from
Warren, that mischief was afoot. " Then," says Mr.
Clark in a note he makes of the event, "came an ex
press in writing stating that eight or nine officers of
the king's troops were seen just before night passing
the road towards Lexington, in a musing, Contempla
tive posture, and it was suspected they were out upon
some evil design. Ten or twelve men, on account of
Hancock and Adams, were detailed to guard my house
that night. Those officers passed through the town.
Three men were sent to watch them. At 10 o'clock
said officers stopped on the borders of Lincoln, seized
their bridles, put pistols to their hearts, and swore if
they stirred another step they were dead men. Between
the hours of twelve and one o'clock we received intel
ligence from Warren that a British detachment was on
the way to destroy tho stores at Lexington." The
three held a hurried consultation, and resolved to fight.
At two o'clock, peal after peal from the belfry called
the excited inhabitants together on the church green.

APPROACH OF THE ENEMY. 79
There they found their pastor who had arrived before
them. The roll was called, and a hundred and fifty
answered to their names. The men, the hour, the
crisis at hand, made the scene on that quiet green a
most solemn and impressive one. The church, the
pastor, and his congregation thus standing together in
the dim light, while the stars looked tranquilly down
from the sky above them, formed a subject for a great
historic picture. As the pastor surveyed the silent
ranks a strange light gleamed in his eye, for he saw
clearly beyond that night's business and his attentive ear
caught from afar faint, but distinctly, the clock of des
tiny striking. The great question with Hancock and
Adams had been, would the people fight ? Would
these humble mechanics and farmers dare resist the
drilled troops of England ? Clark knew they would.
Had he not trained them for this hour ? Were his
years of labor to be in vain ? No, they would fight,
and if need be die, too, under the shadow of the house
of God I
In the meantime swift riders had been sent along
the road towards Boston, to obtain if possible some
information of the approaching enemy. These, after
going several miles, returned, and reported every thing
quiet in that direction. A watch was then set, and
the men dismissed to their homes, with orders to come
together at beat of drum. Just as clay was breaking,
an advance company of British marines appeared in
sight, marching swiftly and in dead silence on the place.
In a moment alarm guns broke the stillness of the
morning, the church bell rung its loud and startling

80 JONAS CLARK.
peal over the village, and the drum beat to arms.
Seizing their firelocks fathers and sons rushed to
gether to the common, and soon the stern browed yeo
men stood drawn up in two ranks near the meeting
house. The spire rose dimly in the gray dawn, speak
ing to them silently and solemnly of both earth and
heaven, and awakening emotions and resolves that
have made the hero and martyr of every age. " How
often in that building," says Bancroft, " had they with
renewed professions of their faith looked up to God as
the stay of their fathers and the protector of their
privileges. How often, on that village green, hard by
the burial place of their forefathers, had they pledged
themselves to each other to combat manfully for their
birthright inheritance of liberty. There they now
stood side by side under the Provincial banner, with
arms in their hands, silent and fearless. The ground
on which they stood was the altar of freedom, and
they were to furnish its victims." How often, he
might have added, had they been told from the pulpit
of that sacred building, that resistance to tyranny was
obedience to God, and that not merely as freemen to
combat "for their birthright inheritance of liberty,"
but as Christians to defend the altars of their religion,
they stood there in stern and silent array. In the
sharp rattle of musketry that followed the brutal order,
" throw down your arms, and disperse ! throw down
your arms, and disperse !" Mr. Clark heard only what
he knew would be the result of his own teachings.
Still the crash of the sudden volley sent a quick
keen pang through his heart for it told of death —

THESLAUGHTER. 81
and as the white puffs of smoke lifted in the morning
air, he saw the green covered with reeling and falling
forms. Hastening thither, after the retreat of the
British, a sad sight met his gaze — for there, under the
windows of his church, lay seven stalwart men,
stretched stark and stiff in death, and many wounded.
There lay Jonas Parker, the strongest wrestler in Lex
ington, pierced with both ball and bayonet. In the
morning he had sworn never to run from British
troops, and he had kept his word, falling on the very
spot where he had taken post at the beat of the drum.
There, too, lay old Caleb Monroe, his gray hairs dab
bled in blood, and near by Caleb Harrington, fallen on
the door-steps of the house of God, into which he had
gone for powder, and beside them other well-known
forms. The bright spring morning broke tranquilly over this
sad scene — the dew-drops glittered beside the red stains
that sprinkled the starting grass — the birds came outand
sang upon the budding trees, and nature gave no token
of the bloody murder that had just been committed.
Clark gazed long and earnestly on this tragic spectacle,
but no tear of regret mingled with those of sympathy
which he shed. Those lifeless forms before him were
holy martyrs in his sight, the first precious sacrifices
laid upon the altar of his country, which was yet to
groan under its load of victims. He had no misgiv
ings, for " from this day," said he, " will be dated the
liberty of the world." No sound broke the stillness of
the scene, but he heard far up in the dome of the uni
verse a bell tolling the knell of tyranny.
4*

82 JONASCLARK.
A feeling of exultation filled his bosom in spite of
his sympathetic grief ; for, while he was looking at the
militia formed in a body upon the crimsoned grass,
they " fired a volley and gave three cheers," he says,
"by way of triumph, and as an expression of the joy
of victory and the glory of the conquest."
Notwithstanding his dead and dying parishioners
lay around him, his patriotic heart leaped to that
shout, for it was prophetic.
He lived to see his predictions prove true. Through
all the long struggle that followed his interest in it
never suffered a moment's abatement, and his faith in
ultimate success never wavered. He believed the war
to be as just a one as ever was waged by the Israelites
of old, and as much under the direction of God, hence
there was no room in his heart for doubt.
After the Eevolution he lived a quiet, honored and
useful life up to its very close, in 1805. He enjoyed
almost uninterrupted health until a few weeks before
his death, when he was seized with the dropsy, which
suddenly terminated his career in his seventy-sixth
year. The teachings of the pulpit of Lexington caused the
first blow to be struck for American Independence.

CHAPTER VII.
JACOB DUCHE.
Openb the ftest Continental Congress with Prayee. — John Adams' De
scription of thr Scene. — His Patriotic Sermons. — Gives his Pay as Chap
lain to the Families of those slain in Battle. — Becomes alarmed, and
turns against ms Country. — His insulting Letter to Washington. — .
Flees the Country. — His Return to Philadelphia, his Death. — His
Character. Jacob Duche, who opened the old Continental
Congress with prayer, and was for a time, in 1776, its
chaplain, deserves a passing notice here for the promi
nent figure he presents in the opening scenes of the
great drama of the Eevolution, though his after career
consigns him to merited disgrace.
He was born in Philadelphia in 1738, and after
completing his education in this country, went to Eng
land to receive orders. On his return he became a rec
tor in his native city. He early showed a literary turn,
and in 1771 published a volume of letters relating
chiefly to English politics.
John Adams, in a letter to his wife, dated Sept.
16th, 1774, thus describes the thrilling incidents con
nected with the prayer he made on the opening of the
First Congress.
"When Congress first met, Mr. Cushing made a
motion that it should be opened with prayer. This
was opposed by Mr. Gay, of New York, and Mr. But-

84 JACOB DUCHE.
ledge, of South Carolina, because we were so divided
in religious sentiments — some Quakers, some Anabap
tists, some Presbyterians, and some Congregational-
ists — that we could not join in the same act of worship.
Mr. Samuel Adams arose, and said, ' He was no bigot,
and could hear a prayer from a gentleman of piety and
virtue, who was at the same time a friend to his coun
try. He was a stranger in Philadelphia, but had heard
that Mr. Duche (Dushay they pronounce it) deserved
that character, and he therefore moved that Mr. Duche,
an Episcopal clergyman, might be desired to read
prayers to the Congress to-morrow morning/ The
motion was seconded, and passed in the affirmative.
Mr. Eandolph, our President, waited on Mr. Duche,
and received for answer that if his health would per
mit he certainly would. Accordingly he appeared
next morning with his clerk and in his pontifical, and
read several prayers in the established form, and then
read the Collect for the 7th day of September, which
was the thirty-fifth Psalm. You must remember this
was the next morning after we heard the terrible rumor
of the cannonading of Boston. I never saw greater
effect upon an audience. It seemed as if Heaven had
ordained that Psalm to be read on that morning. After
this, Mr. Duche, very unexpectedly to every body, struck
out into an extemporary prayer, which filled the bosom
of every man present. I must confess I never heard a
better prayer or one so well pronounced. Episcopalian
as he is, Dr. Cooper never prayed with such ardor
such earnestness and pathos, and in language so elo
quent and sublime for America, for Congress, for, the

JOHN ADAMS' DESCRIPTION. 85
provinces of Massachusetts Bay, and especially the
town of Boston. It has had an excellent effect upon
every body here. I must beg you to read that Psalm."
No wonder the effect was great. With the echoes
of British cannon still lingering in their ears— solemn
in view of the mighty work they had undertaken,
gloomy with the dark and bloody future that stretched
out before them, the deliberate, earnest petition,
" Plead my cause, 0 Lord, with them that strive with
me ; fight against them that fight against me ; take
hold of shield and buckler, and stand up for my help ;
draw out also the spear, and stop the way against
them," must have fallen with startling significance
upon their ears. The deep silence, the excited, trem
ulous tone, the circumstances all combined to make it
appear like a voice from Heaven. No wonder, either,
that Mr. Duche, under the solemn influences of the
scene; broke forth in an ex tempore prayer, and poured
out his heart in strong, earnest, natural language to
the great Lord of all. In such hours of peril and
conscious weakness, the prayer for help- from on high
has a meaning and power in it unfelt in times of pros
perity. In the fervor of the moment he exclaimed : " 0 Lord,
our Heavenly Father, high and mighty, King of kings
and Lord of lords, who dost from thy throne behold
all the dwellers on earth, and reignest with, power su
preme and uncontrolled over all kingdoms, empires,
and governments, look down, we beseech thee, on these
our American States, who have fled to thee from the
rod of the oppressor, and thrown themselves on thy

86 JACOBDUCHE.
gracious protection, desiring henceforth to be depen
dent only on thee — to thee have they appealed for the
righteousness of their cause — to thee do they now look
up for that countenance and support which thou alone
canst give. Take them, therefore, Heavenly Father,
under thy nurturing care, give them wisdom in council,
and valor in the field. Defeat the malicious designs
of our cruel adversaries. Convince them of the un
righteousness of their cause, and if they still persist in
their sanguinary purpose, 0 let the voice of thine own
unerring justice 6ounding in their hearts constrain
them to drop the weapons of war from their unnerved
hands in the day of battle. Be thou present, 0 God
of wisdom, and direct the councils of this honorable
Assembly. Enable them to settle things on the best
and surest foundation, that the scene of blood may be
speedily closed — that order, harmony, and peace may
be effectually restored, and truth and justice, religion
and piety may prevail and flourish amongst thy people.
Preserve the health of their bodies and the vigor of
their minds. Shower on them and the millions they
here represent such temporal blessings as thou seeest
expedient for them in this world, and crown them with
everlasting glory in the world to come. All this we
ask in the name and through the merits of Jesus Christ
thy Son, our Saviour. Amen."
On the fast day appointed by Congress he preached
before it a patriotic sermon. On the 7th of July, 1775,
he preached to the First Battalion of the city, from the
text : " Stand fast, therefore, in the liberty wherewith
Christ hath made us free." In this sermon he exhorted

INSULTINGLETTER. 87
the soldiers to stand fast in their assertion of rights,
and act like independent freemen, putting their trust
in God, who would assuredly deliver them from the
hand of the oppressor.
There was not a clergyman in the land, who at this
time held so prominent a position in the cause of liberty
as he. Not only did he give his prayers, and lend his
eloquence to the cause of the Colonies, but the pay voted
him by Congress, for his services as chaplain, he gener
ously gave to the families of the patriots slain in battle.
At this time he was the last man any one would
have selected as likely to turn recreant to his country.
But the successive disasters that overtook the Ameri
can army after the battle of Long Island, seemed to
fill him with dismay ; and when Philadelphia finally
fell into the hands of the British, he lost all hope, and
in a moment of weakness and timidity, presumed to
address Washington a letter, in which he speaks with
an insolence about Congress and the army, that does
little credit to his head or heart. He urges him, with
a cool effrontery, to abandon the American cause, and
resign his command of the army, or at the head of it
to force Congress immediately to desist from hostili
ties, and to rescind their declaration of independence.
" If this is not done," he says, " you have an infallible
resource still left — negotiate for America at the head
of your army." He describes Congress as composed
of weak, obscure men — speaks contemptuously of the
New England delegates — says the officers are destitute
of principle and courage, unfit to occupy a seat at his
excellency's table, etc., etc.

00 JACOBDUCHE.
One can imagine the astonishment of Washington
at this deliberate attempt of a clergyman — one, too,
who had been so loud in his patriotism — to make him
perjure himself before the world, and trample under
foot the very Congress from which he held his commis
sion. He told Mr. Ferguson, the bearer of the letter,
to inform Mr. Duche that, had he been aware of its
contents, he should have returned it unopened ; but,
having read it, he felt it his duty to lay it before Con
gress, that they might be aware of the sentiments of
the man they had honored with their confidence.
Francis Hopkinson, a brother-in-law of Duche, replied
to this letter with a power and pungency that left the
traitorous chaplain in a most unenviable position.
This desertion of his country, and nefarious attempt
to corrupt Washington, made it dangerous for him
to remain in his native city, and he fled to England.
In 1790 he returned to Philadelphia, where he died
four years after. Of a brilliant imagination and im
pulsive nature, he yet lacked the stern integrity and
high courage of a true man, and in an evil hour took
counsel of his fears, and for ever tainted a reputation
that otherwise would have shone with brilliant luster.

CHAPTER VIII.
SAMUEL SPRING, D.D.
Ho Early Life.— Becomes Chaplain in TnE Army.— The only Chaplain in
Arnold's Expedition across the Northern Wilderness. — His Description
of its Formation. — Preaches at Newburyport to the Army. — Visits the
Tomb of Whitfield. — Description of the March through the Wilder
ness. — His Sufferings and Labors. — Famine.— His Description of shoot
ing a Moose. — His Labors at Point aux Tremble. — Storming of Quebec. — ,
He leads Arnold out of the Fight. — Leaves the Army. — Settled at
Newburypobt, — His Interview with Aaron Burr. — His Death.
Chaplains are usually regarded as mere adjuncts
of an army, not expected to share the perils and suf
ferings of the common soldier, and in ordinary wars
they do not, except to a limited extent ; but in the
Eevolutionary war it was not so. The unparalleled
sufferings which the American army was compelled to
undergo, the chaplains submitted to with cheerfulness,
and in many cases were found in the thickest of the
fight, steadying and encouraging the men. Thus we
find them hutted at Valley Forge — facing the storm
in the wintiy march on Trenton, covered with the
smoke of the conflict at Bennington, standing under
the enemy's fire at Yorktown, and attached to every
expedition, no matter how hazardous or exhausting,
that was set on foot.
In the fight at Lexington, we have seen the pastor
of the church on the green where the first blood flowed,
encouraging his parishioners to resist, and three clergy
men handling the musket like common soldiers. So

90 SAMUEL SPRING, D.D.
in that marvellous expedition of Arnold's, through the
northern wilderness to Quebec, so fraught with peril
and hardships that none but volunteers were asked to
form it, we find a chaplain sharing its vicissitudes and
sufferings. Samuel Spring was born at Northbridge, Mass.,
February 27th, 1746. His father was a farmer, and
wished the stout lad to stay and assist him on the
farm ; but the latter was determined to obtain an
education, and having at length received the parental
consent, commenced his studies, and in time entered
the College of New Jersey. He was not a professing
Christian at that period, but, while in college, had his
mind directed to the subject of religion by a singular
incident. The character of the Deity as shown in his
works, especially in the external universe, had often
impressed him profoundly, and he was selected byJiis
class, on a certain occasion, to explain and defend the
Copernican system. In doing this, his mind became
so overwhelmed by the vastness of the theme, and the
greatness and majesty of God, the Creator and sov
ereign Euler of the universe, that he suddenly stopped
awe-struck, and bursting into tears sat down. He
graduated in 1771, and entered at once upon his theo
logical studies. He was licensed to preach in 1774,
and the next year, fired with the patriotism that drew
such a host of God-fearing men into the struggle of
the Colonies, hastened to Boston, and offered his ser
vices as chaplain. In the fall he accompanied Arnold
in his march through the wilderness, the only chaplain
attached to the perilous expedition.

ARNOLD'S EXPEDITION. 91
He thus describes the manner in which it was
formed :* " Congress had in secret session decided upon
an expedition for the conquest of Quebec. General
Arnold, as its commander-in-chief, with his orders in
his pocket, was directed to Dorchester Heights, to select
his troops from the main Continental army then in
camp in that place. It was in the gray of the morn
ing. The drum beat in every regiment for an instant,
and general parade of the whole army, as for review,
was ordered. All was bustle. In a very brief space
the whole army was paraded in continued line of com
panies. With one continued roll of drums the general-
in-chief with his staff passed along the whole line —
regiment after regiment presenting arms. Then came
the order, ' Officers, to the front ten paces — march ! '
then, in quick succession, 'Officers, to the center — face !
Officers, to the center — march ! Form hollow square !'
Arrived at the center, and the square formed, the
secret orders of Congress were read. The regiments
were designated. It was a perilous service, and not
compulsory upon the officers. Volunteers were called
for. Not one but when the order came, ' Volunteers,
step one step in advance !' but took that step."
Among those who took that step was the young
chaplain. Thirty years of age, over six feet high, and
finely proportioned, he towered like a young giant over
the troops. The force was to march to Newburyport,
and there embark in boats for the mouth of the Ken
nebec, where two hundred bateaux had been collected,
* I am indebted for this and other incidents to a member of his
family.

92 SAMUEL SPRING, D.D.
to carry the troops, provisions, etc. Arriving at this
place in the latter part of the week, the army remained
there over the Sabbath, which gave the chaplain a good
opportunity to commence his official duties, and he
preached to the troops in one of the churches of the
place. He thus graphically describes the circumstances
attending this interesting event : " On the Sabbath
morning the officers and as many of the soldiers as
could be crowded on to the floor of the house, were
marched into the Presbyterian Church in Federal
street. They marched in with colors flying, and
drums beating, and formed two lines, through which I
passed — they presenting arms and the drums rolling,
until I was seated in the pulpit. Then the soldiers
stacked their arms all over the aisles, and I preached
to the army and to the citizens, who crowded the gal
leries, from this text : ' If thy spirit go not with us,
carry us not up hence.' "
He spoke without notes, yet there was no hesitation
in the choice of words or in his manner, but the stream
of his eloquence rolled on unchecked to the close. His
commanding figure, clear, distinct utterance, animated
gestures, and earnest expression, riveted every eye upon
him ; while the subject of his discourse — the marvel
lous and daring expedition, on which they were about
to set forth — enlisted every faculty of his heai'ers, and
the profoundest silence rested on the audience, filling
the remotest corners of the closely packed building.
There sat the fearless Arnold, the bold rifleman,
Morgan, and a host of other brave men, who, notwith-

TOMB OF WHITFIELD. 93
standing their dauntless courage, felt that the perils of
the untrodden, mysterious wilderness, they were about
to penetrate, might be too great for human energy and
endurance, and the hour come, that their only hope
would rest in the God whose spirit the chaplain in
voked as their guide and stay. The citizens, Who
crowded the gallery, never forgot that sermon. It be
came the talk of the place, and was the cause of his
eventually settling over them as their pastor. In
speaking of the circumstance afterwards Mr. Spring
said, " I preached over the grave of Whitfield. After
the service the general officers gathered around me.
Some one requested a visit to Whitfield's tomb. The
sexton was hunted up, the key procured, and we de
scended to his coffin. It had lain in the tomb six
years, but was in good preservation. The officers
induced the sexton to take off the lid of the coffin.
The body had nearly all returned to dust. Some por
tions of his grave-clothes remained. His collar and
wristbands, in the best preservation, were taken and
carefully cut in little pieces, and divided among them."
The chaplain, with the haughty Arnold, the chivalrous
Morgan, and group of officers, gathered in the dark
vault around the tomb of Whitfield, formed a scene
worthy of a painter. The clank of steel had a strange
sound around the sainted sleeper, while the hallowed
atmosphere filled all hearts with solemn awe and reve
rence. At length every thing being ready, the army of
eleven hundred men took its departure, and arriv
ing at the mouth of the Kennebec, unmoored the

94
two hundred boats, and began slowly to ascend the
stream. Morgan led the advance guard, and having
reached Norridgewock Falls, halted to await the ar
rival of Arnold. Here the river was so broken into
rapids that it was necessary to carry all the boats and
baggage and artillery a mile and a quarter through
the woods. First the bushes had to be hewn away,
and the trees cut down, to make a passage ; then the
boats to be hoisted upon men's shoulders, and placed
on sleds, and carried forward ; and finally all the bag
gage, ammunition, and stores dragged across. In the
meantime the boats had sprung aleak, and between re
pairing them and transporting the materials of war it
took seven days to go this mile and a quarter. The
boats were finally launched again, while the soldiers
took to the water, and nearly to their armpits slowly
shoved them against the rapid current. At night they
would tie up, and kindling a blazing fire in the forest,
lie down to rest. At some of the carrying places the
boats had to be dragged up precipices, at others borne
on men's shoulders through the swamps. The young
chaplain gazed on this struggling army, swallowed up
in the wilderness, with strange emotions. Though
wading the streams and swamps, and climbing the rocks
like the meanest soldier, he would often pause in his
toil to watch the novel spectacle. The October frosts
soon set in, and all the autumnal glories of our high
latitudes were spread upon the forest. The dark fir
trees of the low grounds retained their sombre hue,
but the undergrowth of bushes made a flooring of gold
beneath. The tall- pine tree lifted its green crown

DESCRIPTION OF THE MARCH. 95
from the lofty ridges, while farther down, along the
vast slopes, all the colors of the rainbow were spread
in endless profusion. The scene at night was pictur
esque in the extreme. Huge fires blazed through the
forest as far as the eye could reach, while the tall trees
receded away in the gloom, like the columns of some
vast cathedral, amid which the slumbering host lay in
deep and silent repose. The moonbeams stole dimly
through the fretted arches above them, and the rapidly
flowing stream seemed chanting a low anthem to the
solitude. But the first blast of the bugle in the morn
ing, sending its loud notes far through the forest,
stirred this deep repose as by magic — the silent
woods witnessed a sudden resurrection, and soon all
was bustle and confusion. The bright October days
and bracing autumnal air made the toilsome march at
first comparatively cheerful ; but the long, drenching
rains of November told sadly on the troops, and soon
the army was burdened with the sick. To visit these,
and give spiritual advice and comfort, and encourage
those who in their weakness and despondency felt that
they should leave their bones in the wilderness, took
up much of Mr. Spring's time, and made his duties by
no means the least onerous, where the severest toil was
the lot of every one.
It was pleasant to see the devotion of the soldiers to
their young chaplain. Cheerfully sharing all their
privations and hardships he became endeared to them,
and when Sunday came, they would ¦ pile together
their knapsacks, tier upon tier, for a pulpit, on which
an orderly would help him mount, while they gath-

96 SAMUEL SPRING, D.D.
ered round to listen, forming a strange congregation
in a strange temple.
Standing thus in nature's great cathedral, he would
deliver the messages of salvation to his hearers, send
ing his voice through the solitude, and reminding one
of him who styled himself " the voice of one crying
in the wilderness."
At length provisions began to grow scarce, and every
one had to be put on short allowance. Mr. Spring
took his three quarters of a pound of pork per day
cheerfully with the rest.
After incredible hardships, and the loss of a hundred
and fifty men, by sickness and desertion, the army at
last reached the great carrying place, fifteen miles
long, extending from the Kennebec to the Dead Eiver.
Only three small ponds occurred the whole distance,
on which the boats could be launched. The rest of
the way they and the provisions, ammunitions, etc.,
had to be carried on men's shoulders. This was a
terrific strain on the army, and the dispiriting ef
fect upon the soldiers was not relieved by the appear
ance of the Dead Eiver, when they reached it, for it
moved sluggish and dark like the waters of oblivion
through the silent and motionless forest. Day
after day they toiled up this sluggish stream, be
tween the monotonous walls of forest that lined its
banks, until it seemed as if there was no outlet or
opening to the apparently interminable wilderness.
At every bend, the eye strained forward to catch
some indication of change, and when at last they came
in sight of a snow-covered mountain in the distance,

MARCH THROUGH TIIE WILDERNESS. 97
telling them there was an outer world after all, the
men sent up a shout that woke the echoes far and
wide. Near its base they encamped three days, and
Spring spent most of the time in visiting the sick, and
praying with them. The army had scarcely got under
way again, when the heavens became overcast ; dark
and angry clouds swept the heavens, and the heavy
winds sobbed and moaned through the forest. Soon
the rain came down in torrents. Side by side with
the drenched soldier the tall chaplain trudged uncom
plainingly on, and lay down like him on the wet
ground at night. It poured without cessation for
three days, shedding still deeper gloom, over the army.
The river rose steadily the whole time, till the sluggish
current at length swept down with such velocity and
powerthat the boatscouldwithdifficultystem it. Onthe
third night, just as the soldiers had lain down to rest,
after having kindled a huge fire, Mr. Spring heard a roar
in the forest above them like the sound of the surf beat
ing upon the shore, and the next moment the glancing
waters were seen sweeping through the trees on both
sides of the stream. In an instant the camp was
alive with shouts and cries rising above the turbulent
flood that deluged the ground on which they stood.
The fires were extinguished, and in the tumult, and
confusion, and darkness, no one knew which way to
flee for safety, or what to do. In this state of uncer
tainty and dread the night wore away. The daylight
revealed to them a spectacle sad enough to fill the
bravest heart with discouragement. Boats had drifted
5

98 SAMUEL SPRING, D.D.
into the forest, and as far as the eye could reach the
level ground was one broad lake, out of which arose
the dark stems of the trees like an endless succession
of columns. In nine hours the water rose eight feet,
totally obliterating the shores of Dead Eiver.
But the provisions were getting lower and lower,
and Arnold could not wait for the river to subside.
The army was, therefore, pushed on, slowly stemming
the flood ; but, seven boats, carrying provisions, were
caught in the whirling, angry waters, and upset, and
all their contents destroyed.
The boldest now paused in dismay, for only twelve
days' provisions remained, while thirty miles across
the mountain were to be traversed before they could
reach the head waters of the Chaudiere, that flowed
into the St. Lawrence. A council of war was called
to decide what should be done in this crisis of af
fairs. They had now been a month away from civil
ization, the sick were increasing, while famine was
staring them in the face. It was determined at length
to leave the sick there, and despatch orders to Colonels
Green and Knox, in the rear, to hasten up, and take
them back to Cambridge.
Hero was an opportunity for the young chaplain to
abandon the expedition, and yet apparently be in the
path of duty. He had had enough, one would think,
of toil, exposure and suffering, not to wish to face still
greater hardships, and perhaps death itself, by famine
in the wilderness, he following its fortunes. But
he believed the welfare of his country was deeply in
volved in its fate, and he determined, come what

HIS SUFFERINGS AND LABOR. 99
would, to share its vicissitudes, hazards and destiny.
Having, therefore, prayed with the sick, encouraged
the desponding with the promise that relief would soon
come, and pointed those, whom he believed dying, to
the Saviour of men, and commended all to the care and
mercy of God, he bade them farewell, and moved for
ward with the advancing column.
The cold, autumnal rains had now turned into snow,
which sifting down through the leafless tree-tops, cov
ered the weary, wan and straggling column with a
winding-sheet, that seemed to be wrapping it for the
tomb. After they left the sick in the wilderness they
passed seventeen falls, before they reached the head
waters of Dead Eiver. It was still four miles across
to the Chaudiere, down which they were to float to the
St. Lawrence.
Here, on the summit of the hills on which the wa
ters divide, one part flowing south and the other north,
Arnold distributed the last provisions to the separate
companies, and taking only thirteen men, pushed on
for the Chaudiere. He told those left behind, in part
ing, that he would obtain provisions for them in ad
vance, if human efforts could procure them ; but
directed them to follow after as fast as they could,
for, he added, their only safety lay in advancing.
Spring remained behind with the army, to share its
privations and its fate, whatever that might be. The
gallant fellows gave their indomitable leader three
parting cheers, and then began to heave their heavy '
boats from the water. Hoisting them upon their
shoulders, while others were loaded down with baggage

100
and ammunition, and others still dragged the few pieces
of artillery along like cattle, they staggered on through
the forest. The scanty provisions that were left them,
though eked out with the greatest parsimony, grew
rapidly less, and finally failed entirely. Under the
low rations and severe labor combined, the men had
gradually grown weaker and weaker, and now, pale
and emaciated, looked on each other in mute inquiry.
A council of war was called, and it was determined to
kill the dogs they had with them, and push on till
this loathsome supply was exhausted. These faithful
animals, hitherto the companions of their toils, were
slain and divided among the different companies.
After the bodies were devoured, their legs and even
claws were boiled for soup.
It was a sad sight to see the groups of half famished
soldiers seated together around a fire, watching with
eager looks the pot containing this refuse of the dogs,
and gazing with strange meaning into each other's
eyes. The chaplain fared like the rest, and famine
and incessant toil and exposure were telling on him as
well as on the soldiers. The tall frame grew less erect,
and the wan face showed that starvation was eating
away his life. Trusting however in God, whom he
served, he endured all cheerfully, and bore that fam
ished multitude on his heart to the throne of heavenly
grace. The soldiers, in all their sufferings, thought
of him with the deepest sympathy, and could not but
feel encouraged when they saw -his serene, though
emaciated countenance, and listened to his expressions
of calm confidence in God, that he would yet deliver

FAMINE. 101
them. He often walked through the woods to look at.
the various groups, and see where he could be of most
service. His heart bled at the destitution he witnessed
on every side. One day he came .upon a company
gathered around a fire, boiling some dog's claws they
had preserved to make soup with. As he paused to
look at them, they rose, and, in true kindness of heart,
urged him to share their meager, disgusting broth. It
was a novel, but touching evidence of the deep affec
tion they bore their young chaplain, and told in lan
guage stronger than words, what an example of patient
endurance he had shown, and how kind and faithful
had been his labors among them.
At last the dogs gave out, and then the soldiers tore off
their moose skin moccasins, and boiled them to extract
a little nourishment. The feet could stand the No
vember frosts better than their stomachs endure the
gnawings of famine. They reached at length the banks
of the Chaudiere, and launched their boats. The cur
rent however was swollen and rapid — now boiling amid
the rocks, and now shooting like an arrow around a
jutting precipice. On such a turbulent flood the boats
soon became unmanageable, and one after another was
stranded or shivered into fragments, till nearly all were
destroyed. They were still thirty miles from the French settle
ments, and now were compelled to shoulder their bur
dens, and advance on foot, in straggling parties,
through the forest. During all these perils and suffer
ings scarce a Sabbath passed in which Spring did not
mount his pulpit of knapsacks, and preach to the

102
troops, while every morning, before the march began,
his earnest prayer arose to God for help.
The last miserable substitute for food was at length
exhausted, and w;th empty stomachs and bowed forms
they slowly, despairingly toiled onward, while all along
their track, the snow was stained with blood. As they
were now approaching the French settlements, severe
discipline was enforced. They needed no fires to cook
their food, for they had none to cook ; but none was
allowed them to warm themselves by, and strict orders
were given not to discharge a gun for any purpose.
While the weary column was thus staggering silently
on, suddenly the report of a musket was heard far in
advance, then another, and another, till twenty echoed
through the forest. They ceased, and then a long
shout rolled back through the solitude, producing the
wildest excitement. Mr. Spring never forgot that
thrilling scene, and long after, in speaking of it, said :
" The army was starving, but moving on. The pio
neers, who were ahead to clear the way, roused sud
denly a noble moose. It was the first that had been
seen. The temptation was too strong to be resisted.
One man fired — he missed. Twenty guns were leveled
at him. He fell — they forgot all discipline in their
extremity, and shouted. It was a noble moose, weigh
ing not less than a thousand pounds. A halt was or
dered — camp kettles taken out, fires kindled, meat,
blood, entrails, hoofs and horns chopped up, and soup
made of all for the army."
Eevived by this unexpected supply, the troops
pushed on. The next day they met a company of

POINT AUX TREMBLES. 103
men with provisions, sent back by Arnold to relieve
them. A loud shout arose from the whole army, and
a general feast was ordered. Several of the soldiers,
unable to restrain their appetites, eat so voraciously
that they sickened and died. They had braved the
wilderness, and withstood the ravages of famine, to
fall victims to unrestrained indulgence. It was with
profound sadness the young chaplain performed the
last religious rites over their rude graves in the
northern wilderness.
The French settlements were soon reached, and ex
ultation and joyful anticipation took the place of
gloomy forebodings and despair. The weary march,
the supperless bivouacs and unparalleled hardships
were now all forgotten in the enterprise before them,
and on every side arose the sound of preparation. On
Sunday, the 12th of November, they reached Point
Levi, opposite Quebec. They were to cross the next
morning, and hence the sabbath was given up to active
toil, and Spring saw how the Lord's day is sometimes
passed in camp.
It is not necessary to dwell here on Arnold's failure
to surprise Quebec, nor the state of affairs that com
pelled him to wait the arrival of Montgomery from
Montreal, before attempting to take the place by storm.
He retreated between twenty and thirty miles to Point
aux Trembles, and pitched his camp.
There was a beautiful catholic chapel here, which
Arnold turned into a hospital for the sick. On Sun
days it was used by Spring as a church, in which he
preached regularly to officers and men. On these oc-

104 SAMUEL SPRING, D.D.
casions the richly decorated chapel presented a singular
spectacle. In the elegant recesses and rooms adjoining,
costly hangings drooped amid elaborate carvings and
gilt work, while all around lay the sick Americans, to
whom these luxuries seemed a dream after the hard
ships of the wilderness. The walls and ceilings were
lavishly adorned, and the whole interior presented a
strange contrast to a New England Meeting-house.
Yet here the sons of the Puritans assembled, and rev
erently listened to their chaplain, who preached a gos
pel that ha dnever before been heard there.
Montgomery at length arrived, and preparations
were set on foot for an assault on Quebec, and Sun
day, the last day of December, was selected for its execu
tion. On this morning, before daylight, the two gen
erals advanced, cautiously and silently, against the two
points which had been designated for the attack. A
furious snow-storm was raging at the time, while snow
two feet deep obstructed the way. This was not to be
a Sabbath of worship, and Spring, anxious for the
result of the contest, would not stay in camp, but ad
vanced with the troops to the walls of the city.
How Montgomery fell, sword in hand, at the head
of his troops, is a matter of history. Arnold, gal
lantly leading his men up a narrow street, swept by
the enemy's fire, received a musket-ball in his leg,
which brought him to the ground. Struggling up
from the snow, he attempted again to move on, but
was compelled to fall back, and yield the command to
Morgan, who fought like a lion amid the storm and
darkness. Every soldier was needed to press the

SETTLED AT NEWBURYPORT. 105
assault, and Arnold would allow none to help him,
but taking the arm of Ogden, the surgeon, and Spring,
his chaplain, who had rushed forward to his succor,
limped slowly out of the fire. They supported him
for more than a mile to the hospital in the rear, while
he, though pale and faint,' urged every soldier he en
countered on the way to hasten forward to the assault.
At last, driven back at every point, the American army
retired. The rest of the winter it remained in camp, unmo
lested by the enemy. Spring preached regularly to the
troops on Sundays, and devoted his remaining time to
the sick and wounded. It was a severe winter.
With the opening of spring, offensive operations
were recommenced, but they resulted in nothing. In
the mean time, troops arrived from England — small
pox broke out in the American camp, and one misfor
tune succeeded another, till at length the invading
army was driven out of Canada. Spring bore his part
in all these hardships and disasters with unshaken for
titude. After this, the portion of the army which had been
assigned for the invasion of Canada, was broken up,
and a reorganization took place. He, therefore, re
signed his commission, and accepted a call from the
people of Newburyport, who had listened the year be
fore to his eloquent discourse on the departure of the
expedition from that town. He remained pastor of
this church for forty years, or until his death, in 1819.
Of his after career of usefulness, his influence in estab-
5*

106 SAMUEL SPRING, D.D.
lishing Andover Theological Seminary, or his other
labors, it is not my province to speak.
When an old man, he was once on a visit to his son,
the present venerable Dr. Spring, of New York, and
expressed a wish to have an interview with Aaron
Burr. The son attempted to dissuade him from it,
remarking that such was Mr. Burr's present character
and reputation, that he thought an interview would
not be agreeable. But the venerable man recalled to
mind the time when he was chaplain in the army
under Arnold — the terrible assault before daylight on
Quebec — and the fact of young Burr carrying the
dying Montgomery on his back out of the fight, and
still said he wanted to see him. So Dr. Spring, in
vited him to his house, and the two met ; but the con
versation soon passing from memories of the past to
more general topics, Burr gave utterance to opinions
and sentiments, so repulsive to the man of God, that,
when the door closed on the visitor, he remarked to
his son that he never wished to see him again.
He died on the 4th of March, 1819, seventy-three
years of age. His closing hours were peaceful, and
full of calm confidence in his Saviour, and almost the
last words, that broke from his aged lips, were, " Oh,
let me be gone — do let me be gone — I long to be home."
While, as one of the leaders in Israel, he occupies a
prominent position in the history of the American
Church, he also, as a true patriot, stands linked with
one of the most arduous, perilous expeditions in the
annals of the Eevolution.

CHAPTER IX.
EBENEZER PRIME.
His Patriotism. — Driven from nis CHURcn. — nis Library destroyed. — His
Death. — Insult to his Grave.
Ebenezer Prime was born in the year 1700, and
hence was seventy-five years old when open hostilities
between the Colonies and mother country commenced.
Though past his threescore and ten, and already tot
tering on the confines of the grave — when the trumpet
of war pealed over the land ; his aged ear caught the
sound, and the last failing energies of life were devoted
to his country. He had apparently done with earth,
and the scenes of eternity were opening on his vision,
yet he deemed himself doing God's service in urging
his people to fight for their liberties. His voice com
ing back as it were from the borders of the unseen
world, invested the cause he advocated with peculiar
solemnity, and gave it the high sanction of heaven.
To one who had no future in this world, nothing but
a solemn sense of duty to his God and his country
could have aroused him to enlist in a struggle, the end
of which he never expected to see.
Having graduated at Yale College, in 1718, he began
at the early age of nineteen his ministerial labors at
Huntington, Long Island, where he remained till the
close of his long and useful life.

108 EBENEZER PRIME.
After the disastrous battle of Long Island his parish
was invaded by the enemy, and he and his son were
compelled to flee for safety. The latter, with his fam
ily, left the island, while the aged pastor found shelter
in a remote, secluded part of his parish. The firm
stand he had taken on the side of liberty was well
known to the en&my, and his name was never men
tioned by them except with curses. His parishioners,
sharing his patriotism, shared with him also the suf
fering caused by the outrages of the invaders. Their
property was destroyed, and they themselves compelled
to flee for their lives. The church, in which he had
so long preached, and where prayers for his oppressed
country had so often arisen, was converted into a mili
tary depot, and desecrated by the licentious soldiery.
They littered his stables, in which they housed their
horses, with unthreshed sheaves of grain, mutilated
his library by tearing to pieces his most valuable books,
and consigning them to the flames. The old patriarch
looked on this desolation of his home with sorrow, but
without one regret for the stand he had taken for a
just and noble cause. Though his voice could no
longer proclaim from the pulpit the doctrine of civil
and religious freedom, it could send up the fervent
prayer, that God would deliver his suffering country
from the hands of the oppressor. There would drift
to his aged ear, in his seclusion, the news of defeat and
of victory, that by turns depressed and animated the
struggling patriots, but he never lived to be gladdened
by the triumphant shout of victory that proclaimed a
nation free forever. He closed his eyes on his country,

INSULT TO HIS GRAVE. 109
torn and bleeding, but unshaken in her determination
never to abandon the struggle till she was free. He
died August 2d, 1779, and was buried in the grave-yard
hard by the dilapidated church from which he had
been driven. Afterwards, the notorious Col. Thomp
son, of Massachusetts, who subsequently became Count
Eumford, quartered his troops in the town, and pulled
down the church, and used the timbers and boards to
construct barracks and block houses for their accom
modation. To insult and outrage the feelings of the
inhabitants still more, these were put up in the center
of the burying ground, and the graves leveled so that
the consecrated spot became a hard-trodden common.
The grave-stones were pulled up, and used as stones
to build their ovens with. From these the bread would
often be taken with the inverted inscriptions stamped
on the crust. The Colonel, to show his malignity,
pitched his marquee at the head of Mr. Prime's grave,
so that, to use his own language, " he might tread on
the old rebel every time he went out or in."
But the venerable patriot was beyond the reach of
his insults and his rage, safe with the God whom he
had served, and to whose protection he had in life
committed without wavering his suffering country.
The Eev. Dr. Prime; present able editor of the New
York Observer, is his grandson, who has furnished for
Dr. Sprague's American Pulpit an extended sketch of
his ministerial life.

CHAPTER X.
SAMUEL EATON.
Is settled in Harpsburg, Maine. — Peactices three Professions. — Attends
a Political Meeting. — His stirring Address. — Narrow Escape of an
Officer of the King. — Recruiting Officer seeks ins Aid. — Eaton ad
dresses the People on Sabbath Evening.— Thrilling Scene. — Soldiers
obtained. — His Death.
Eev. Samuel Eaton was born in Braintree, Mass.,
and graduated at Harvard in 1763. Though a native
of Massachusetts, he spent the greater part of his life
in Maine. Endowed with a strong intellect, amiable
yet fearless and independent, of strict integrity and
warm piety, he exerted a powerful influence through
out the Colony. Possessed of considerable knowledge
of medicine, he acted as physician in ordinary cases of
sickness, while his character as peace-maker, and his
knowledge of common legal documents were so well
known and highly prized, that his people were seldom
obliged to consult a lawyer. Acting thus in a three
fold capacity his influence was felt far and wide.
When the contest between the Colonies and the
mother country commenced, he threw this influence on
the side of the former ; and, both in and out of the
pulpit, strove to arouse the people to active resistance.
He frequently took his texts in reference to the coming
struggle, and spoke of it as a religious one, and directed
his hearers to look to the Lord of Hosts for aid in car
rying it forward. He declared that the people of New

STIRRING ADDRESS. Ill
England were a chosen generation, and it was God's
purpose, if they depended on him, and obeyed his
laws, to make them successful in securing the freedom
they had made such sacrifices to establish in this new
hemisphere. After the battles of Lexington and Concord a meet
ing was called of all those capable of bearing arms in
the towns of Harpswell and Brunswick. From far
and near the yeomanry gathered to the meeting-house
— the common place of rendezvous in those times — to
consult on the course they should pursue in tho im
pending crisis.
Mr. Eaton was present simply as one of the au
dience ; and while the business was being transacted, lis
tened in silence to the conflicting opinions that were
presented. Some were doubtful and hesitating, and
advocated mild measures that would leave them un
committed ; others openly opposed anything that
looked like revolution. Although he said nothing
while the debate was proceeding, he was observed to be
moving amid the crowd, conversing with the disaffect
ed, and endeavoring to convince them of the right and
duty of resistance. The business at length being ac
complished, the chairman, a zealous patriot, who had
kept his eye on the pastor, arose, and requested him
him to speak to the people. He consented ; and,
mounting the pulpit, addressed them with an elo
quence and pathos that bore down all opposition, and
made each heart leap as to a trumpet call. Flashing
eyes and compressed lips on every side told that doubt
and indecision were over. The patriots became ex-

112 SAMUEL EATON.
cited almost to frenzy, and the chairman at length, no
longer able to control himself, arose, and rushing to
the leader of the opposition, who held a commission
under the king, seized him by the collar, and demand
ed, with a loud voice, that he should at once, and on
the spot, renounce king and Parliament. The officer
refused to do so, and; scoffing at his threats, denounced
him as a rebel. Stung to madness by the insulting
epithet, the chairman cried out, " Away with him to
the grave-yard — let us bury him alive !" The propo
sition was received with loud shouts, and the people,
rising en masse, rushed on their terrified victim, and
hurried him away.
They were in earnest ; and would soon have had
the trembling wretch under ground ; but the counsels
of a few of the more temperate, backed by the urgent
solicitations of the pastor, calmed their passions, and
they released him. Humbled and terrified, the trem
bling official turned and fled, escaping from an oppo
sition he saw he was not only unable to stem, but
which threatened to bear him away in its fury. The
parson was found to be more powerful than the king
in Harpsburg.
Some two months after, Falmouth, now Portland,
was burned by the enemy. The country was at once
aroused, and messengers were dispatched in every di
rection to summon the people to arms. A recruiting
officer was sent to Harpswell to raise volunteers, but,
to his surprise, found the people backward in respond
ing to his call. Discouraged and sad he, as a last
resort, repaired on Sunday morning to Mr. Eaton, to

ADDRESSES THE PEOPLE. 113
beg him to use his influence in his behalf. Meeting
him on his way to church, he laid his case before him,
and besought him to speak to the people, and urge
them to come to the rescue. " Sir," said the pastor,
"it is my communion Sabbath, and I must not intro
duce secular subjects during the day. I will think of
the matter, and see what I can do. Perhaps I will
invite the people to assemble in front of the meeting
house at the going down of the sun." So, after ser
vice, he told the congregation that he wished to see
them after sunset on the church green. He then dis
missed them to their homes, and retired to his study.
It was a warm August evening, and as the sun
stooped behind the western hills, closing the New
England Sabbath, and while his beams still lingered
on the glittering spire, men singly and in groups were
seen bending their steps towards the meeting-house.
Some, surprised at the strange invitation, were won
dering what it meant, while others, knowing their pas
tor's patriotism, more than suspected its object. When
the crowd had all assembled, and early twilight was
gathering over the landscape, Mr. Eaton left his study,
and proceeded thoughtfully to the meeting-house. The
crowd gave way respectfully as he approached, and
passing through it he mounted the horse block stand
ing near the door. Pausing a moment, and casting
his eye over the crowd, he said : " Let us look to God
in prayer." It was a strangely solemn scene — that
venerated pastor in the gray twilight, with head un
covered, lifting his voice to the heavens, while the as
sembly, with bowed heads and motionless forms, stood

114 SAMUEL EATON.
and reverently listened. When he had closed, he stood
for a minute as if lost in thought, and then burst
forth, " Cursed be he that keepeth back his sword from
blood!" — Jeremiah, xlvi. 10.
A sudden thunder peal breaking from the clear
heavens would not have startled those quiet farmers
more than the unexpected deliverance of this fearful
anathema. Coming from the minister of God, and
uttered there under the shadow of the sanctuary, on
the evening of the solemn Sabbath, it carried with it
a strange, resistless power. A silence profound as that
which rested on the neighboring grave- yard followed.
He then went on to describe briefly the circumstances
under which it was pronounced — drew a parallel be
tween them and the present oppressed and perilous
state of God's people in the Colony, and making a
direct application of the subject to those present,
closed with a powerful appeal to them as men, as pa
triots, to gird on the sword without delay, and strike
for God and liberty.
The minister effected what the recruiting officer
failed to accomplish, and that night forty men enrolled
their names as volunteers.
After the termination of the war, his life moved on
in the even tenor of its way to its close in 1822.
Courtly in his manners, faithful in his duties, never
failing to warn, rebuke, and instruct the highest as
well as the lowest whenever a proper occasion presented
itself, he lived to the good old age of eighty-five, and,
like a shock of corn fully ripe, was gathered to his
fathers in peace.

CHAPTER XI.
WILLIAM TENNENT.
His Birth and Education. — Settled at Norwalk, Conn. — Removes to
Charleston, S. C. — His personal Appearance. — His Eloquence. — His
Boldness and Zeal in the Cause of the Colonies. — Makes Patriotic Ap
peals on the Sabbath. — Is elected Member of the Provincial Congress
of South Carolina. — Sent with Henry Drayton to the back Settle
ments to baffle TnE Tories. — Hia Letters to Henry Laurens and the
Congress. — Again sent to Congress.— His Character and Death.
The Tennents seemed to be of the Aaronic line,
and William was a favorite name in the various
branches of the family. There were three William
Tennents who early devoted themselves to the cause
of their Master, and when the Eevolution broke out
made the cause of their country one with it. The
clergyman, whose name stands at the head of this
sketch, is sometimes called William Tennent (Third),
to distinguish him from the other celebrated William
Tennents, and was born in Freehold, N. J., in 1740.
Gifted with a fine intellect, he made such rapid prog
ress in his early studies that he graduated at Princeton
when but eighteen years of age. He was licensed to
preach in 1761, and labored as an itinerant for six
months under the direction of Hanover presbytery of
Virginia. In 1765 he was settled at Norwalk, Conn.,
where he remained a little over six years. At the end
of that period, he received a call from an independent

116 WILLIAM TENNENT.
church in Charleston, S. C, and though for a time the
church at Norwalk refused to part with him, they
finally gave a reluctant consent, and he was installed
pastor of the former church. He was laboring here
when the storm of the Eevolution broke over the
land. The contest at once enlisted his whole heart, and he
threw himself into it with a boldness and zeal that
astonished and troubled some of even his best friends.
He was of a manly presence, vivid imagination, great
beauty of person, and lofty genius. Consciousness
of his great powers made him bold and enterprising,
and he became a great favorite with the people. Said
one who knew him well, over his dead body : " His
honest, disinterested, yet glowing zeal for his country's
good demands from us a tribute of respect. Impressed
with a sense of the justness, greatness, and vast im
portance of the American cause, he engaged in it with
an ardor and resolution that would have done honor to
an ancient Eoman. For this he was indeed censured,
and perhaps too liberally, by his friends. Early in the
contest he magnanimously stepped forth as an advo
cate for this continent. Here was a field suited to his
great abilities, and here his abilities shone with in
creasing lustre. He first endeavored to rouse his fel
low-citizens to a just sense of their inestimable rights
and a willingness to contend for them, and to his spir
ited exertions, among others, may in a great measure
be attributed that noble, patriotic zeal which soon
blazed forth to the immortal honor of this State."
Being at the center of influence in the province, his

ELECTED TO CONGRESS. 117
eloquent appeals reached those who controlled its des
tinies. He rarely pr'eached political sermons ; but so
holy did he feel the struggle to be, in which the Colo
nies were engaged, that often, after the services of the
Sabbath were over, he would repair to the court-house,
and address the people on their duty to their country.
He did not regard this as any desecration of the Sab
bath, for though he felt that the services of the
sanctuary were consecrated to divine worship, he yet
believed that the Sabbath was made for man, not man
for the Sabbath.
His pen was also devoted to the cause of his coun
try, and he left no measure untried to reach the ear
and heart of the inhabitants of South Carolina. His
enthusiastic patriotism and his great talents made him
so prominent that the people, contrary to established
usage, elected him member of the Provincial Congress.
In 1775, the tories in the back settlements began to
assume such an attitude of decided hostility towards
the friends of the Eevolution that serious consequences
were apprehended. To counteract their influence, the
Council of Safety appointed Mr. Tennent and Wm.
Henry Drayton* a deputation to visit^different portions
of the State. They at once set out on their mission, and
traveling through the back settlements, had private
interviews with the people, and held public meetings
at which Tennent addressed them in such burning
eloquence that the adherents of the royal government
trembled for their influence. Public meetings, private
conferences, the formation of volunteer companies,
* President of Provincial Congress.

118 WILLIAM TENNENT.
and unceasing efforts to bring in the wavering, and
overawe the openly hostile, occupied all his time and
energies. The following extracts from his letters while on this
mission will give a slight idea of his labors. In one of
them, to Henry Laurens, dated " Bullock's Creek,
Aug. 20th, 1774," he says, after speaking of what
others, in conjunction with himself, were doing, " I
turned my course into the new acquisition, where I am
to have a meeting, from day to day, in Col. Neil's
regiment. I think I shall fix this district in the right
cause. I discovered on my way a scheme to surprise
Fort Charlotte, took an affidavit of it, and sent it
express to Mr. Drayton — so hope it will be prevented.
•;:.- -:.:¦ « j have formed one, and am forming, in this
district, another troop of volunteer horse rangers, who
are good as sworn to the Council of Safety, when they
enlist. We are hemming in the dissidents on all sides
as much as possible, but their leaders seem determined,
if possible, to bring the people to draw blood before
they have time tp be enlightened. I have forsook my
chaise, and ride on horseback, from day to day meet
ing the people."
In another letter, dated "Long Cane, Sept. 1st,"
addressed to the Committee of Safety, he says, "I
thought it necessary to visit the settlements on this side
of Saluda. Met a largo congregation yesterday, and
found the people divided in their sentiments. Spoke
at least two hours to them with good effect. The pre
vailing party here is for American measures, but they
need confirmation. I have, therefore, appointed three

HIS CHARACTER AND DEATH. 119
meetings, at which I expect to see a great number of
the disaffected. I shall then cross over into FletchelPs
regiment once more, to be at an election appointed at
Ford's, on the Emoree, where we expect great opposi
tion, if not violence, from Cunningham's party. Brown
will bring them to blood if he can, but I still hope it
may be prevented. I consider myself as running great
risks, but think it my duty * * * *." He then
speaks of the want of ammunition, and adds, " I shall
visit Charlotte before I return, and hope to let you
hear more particularly on this subject next week/'
In executing this mission he not only swayed the
people by his eloquence, but by his shrewdness and
sagacity broke up many dangerous plots and combina
tions. Eeturning to Charleston, he again took his seat
in Congress, to which he was successively elected.
Says the Eev. Mr. Alison, who preached his funeral
sermon : " Both in the Provincial Congress and Gen
eral Assembly he displayed great erudition, strength
of argument, generosity of sentiment, and a most un
bounded eloquence. He continued his fervent endeav
ors to the last, resolutely regardless of the attacks of
envy and calumny he met with."
In 1777, his aged father died at Freehold, and the
next summer he came north to take his widowed
mother to his own home, that he might cheer and
solace her declining years. On his return, when about
ninety miles from Charleston, on the high hills of
Santee, he was seized with a violent nervous fever
which carried him rapidly to the grave. Just as the

120 WILLIAM TENNENT.
spirit was leaving the body, he remarked to the clergy
man beside him, that his mind was calm and easy, and
he was willing to be gone.
Thus passed away, as it were on the very threshold
of the great struggle in which his heart was so deeply
interested, this young, eloquent, gifted divine and ar
dent patriot. Had he lived to the good old age of Dr.
Wetherspoon, he would, like him, have been not only
one of the leading patriots, but one of the great intel
lectual lights of the country. It is rare that great
personal beauty, impressive bearing, genius, eloquence,
and piety are united in one man as they were in him.
He was one of the few on whom nature seems to de
light to lavish her choicest gifts. These were all
sanctified and consecrated to God and his country.

CHAPTER XII.
PETER GABRIEL MUHLENBURG.
Fighting Clergymen. — Muhlenburq's Birth and Education. — Goes to Eng
land.— Settles in Virginia.— Takes a prominent Part in Political
Movements. — Becomes Member of the House of Burgesses. — Raises a
Regiment, of which he is chosen Colonel. — Preaches His Farewell Ser
mon. — Orders the Drum to. beat for Recruits at the Church-door. —
Marches to Charleston.— Camps at Valley Forge. — Fights bravely at
Brandywine. — At Monmouth. — Commands the Reserve at Stony Point. —
Makes a desperate Assault at Toektown. — Is made Major-general. —
His Political Career after the War, — Defence of his Course in aban
doning his Profession.
There was a class of clergymen in the Eevolution
who regarded the struggle so sacred that they felt it
to be their duty to fight sometimes as well as pray.
They did not, however, consider it necessary to aban
don their profession to do so. That duty depended on
the emergency of the case. In a perilous crisis, when
one idle arm might turn the scale against the patriots,
they had no hesitation in stepping into the ranks, and
fighting like a common soldier. They saw nothing
incongruous in this course, and hence seldom conde
scended to make an apology for it. Nor did it inter
fere with their professional duties — for, when the
smoke of battle had cleared away, they were found
praying with the wounded who had been struck by
their side, or offering thanksgivings in front of the bat
talions for a victory won.
The subject of the following sketch, however, aban-
6

122 PETER GABRIEL MUHLENBURG.
doned entirely his profession, and became a distin
guished military man.
John Peter Gabriel Muhlenburg was born in the
village of Trapp, Montgomery Co., Pa., on the first of
October, 1746. Educated partly in this country and
partly in Europe, he received ordination in 1768, and
commenced his labors in Western New Jersey. In
1772 he went to London to receive ordination from an
English bishop, that he might take charge of a church
in Virginia, to which he had been called. Eeturning
to America, he settled at Woodstock, and entered on
the duties of a country pastor.
His ministerial profession, however, did not prevent
him from feeling a deep interest in the quarrel between
the Colonies and the mother country — on the contrary,
he took the lead in every measure of hostility to her
oppressive acts.
In 1774, when the people of his county assembled
to choose a committee of safety, he was unanimously
elected its chairman. He was the head and soul of the
opposition in that whole region, and so much did he
possess the confidence of the people that they sent him
to the House of Burgesses of the state. Ardent, fear
less and patriotic he became so absorbed in the ap
proaching struggle, that, when the news of the battle
of Bunker Hill reached him, he resolved at once to
throw up his profession, and enter the army. Having
talked and preached for freedom, he determined now
to strike for it. He immediately commenced to orga
nize a Virginia regiment, and laying aside his ministe
rial character, became its colonel. '

FAREWELL SERMON. 123
He took leave of his people in a farewell sermon,
which glowed throughout with the most devoted pa
triotism. At the close he told them of the resolution
he had taken to fight, and if need be, die for his coun
try on the battle-field. It was a strange announce
ment from the pulpit, but there were few to criticize
his abandonment of his profession^ for he had breathed
his own fervid spirit into his congregation, and the
kindling eye and speaking countenance told him that
his course had their hearty approval. Said he, in con
clusion, " The Bible tells us ' there is a time for all
things,' and there is a time to preach, and a time to
pray, but the time for me to preach has passed away ;"
then, raising his voice, till it rung like the blast of a
trumpet through the church, he exclaimed, " and there
is a time to fight, and that time has now come."
Closing the services he stepped into the vestry-room,
and laying aside his gown, put on his colonel's uni
form, and stood before his astonished congregation in
full regimentals. This sudden apparition of a Vir
ginia colonel, in full uniform, walking down the broad
aisle, in the place of their pastor, took every one by
surprise. Turning neither to the right hand nor to
the left, he strode sternly on to the door, and ordered
the drum to beat for recruits.
The silence that had reigned, while this extraordi
nary scene was passing, was suddenly broken by the
loud and rapid roll of the drum. The congregation
rose simultaneously to their feet, and the men gathered
in a mass around their former pastor — scarcely one
capable of bearing arms remaining behind. The calm

124 PETER GABRIEL MUHLENBURG.
quiet of the Sabbath day was now changed into a
scene of bustle and excitement. The drum was kept
beating, and those who were not in the church came
rushing towards it, to learn what strange event had
happened. The sight of the pastor in uniform, stand
ing at the door and calling for recruits, kindled the
most unbounded enthusiasm, and before night nearly
three hundred men had joined his standard. He im
mediately marched south, and was present with his
regiment at the battle of Charleston.
The next year he was promoted by Congress to the
rank of brigadier-general, and ordered to take charge
of all the Continental troops in Virginia. The next
May he joined Washington at Middebrook, New Jer
sey, and marched with his brigade to the desolate en
campment of Valley Forge. Among the devoted
leaders who closed with unflinching resolution and
courage around their great chieftain, during the trials
of this terrible winter, none took a firmer and nobler
stand than Muhlenburg. At the battle of Brandy-
wine his brigade formed a part of the division of
Greene, which at the close of that disastrous day was
ordered up from the rear, where he had been stationed,
to cover the retreat. For three quarters of an hour
these noble troops withstood the onset of the entire
British army, and then steadily and in good order
withdrew. At Germantown he was in the thickest of
the fight, and at Monmouth, on that scorching Sab
bath day, led his troops over the burning sands as
steadily as if on parade. Known for his coolness,
courage, and determined resolution, he was selected by

POLITICAL CAREER. 125
Wayne to command the reserve at the assault on Stony
Point. He was afterwards stationed in Virginia, and
aided in the operations that finally shut up Cornwallis
in Yorktown. His brigade was actively employed
during the siege of that place. On one occasion he
led a storming party against a redoubt, and with such
desperate and deadly resolution did he carry it through
the fire, that not a man returned unwounded.
At the close of the war he was elevated to the rank
of major-general. Eemoving to Pennsylvania, he was
made chairman of the executive council of the State,
and afterwards was sent to Congress. In 1801 he was
elected United States Senator, and in the same year
received the appointment of supervisor of the internal
revenue of Pennsylvania. The next year he was made
collector of the port of Philadelphia, which office he
held till his death, in October 1807. He was buried
close by the village church where he was baptized, and
the following true epitaph placed above his grave :
" He was brave in the field, faithful in the cabinet,
honorable in all his transactions, a sincere friend, and
an honest man."
It is but just to the memory of this unflinching pa
triot to let him be heard in his own defence for his
course in abandoning the pulpit for the army. In a
letter to his brother Frederick, a clergyman also, who
had written to another brother condemning his.(Peter's)
course for laying aside the ministerial profession for
that of arms, he says : " Thus far I had written when
I received brother Henry's letter from you to him,
wherein you make observations on my conduct in the

126 PETER GABRIEL MUHLENBURG.
present alarming crisis. You say, as a clergyman
nothing can excuse my conduct. I am a clergyman, it
is true, but I am a member of society as well as the
poorest layman, and my liberty is as dear to me as to
any man. Shall I then sit still, and enjoy myself at
home, when the best blood of the continent is spilling ?
Heaven forbid it ! You make a comparison with
Struensee. The comparison is odious. Did he die in
defence of his country ? Far from it. He suffered
for crimes, and his life was justly forfeited to the law.
But even if you was on the opposite side of the
question, you must allow that in this last step I have
acted for the best. You know that from the begin-
ning of these troubles I have been compelled to have a
hand in public affairs. I have been chairman to the
committee of delegates from this county from the first.
Ho you think, if America should be conquered, I
should be safe ? Far from it. And would you not
sooner fight like a man than die like a dog ? I am
called by my country to its defence. The cause is just
and noble. We're I a bishop, even a Lutheran one,
I should obey without hesitation, and so far am I from
thinking that I am wrong, I am convinced it is my
duty so to do, a duty I owe to my God and to my
country." This same Frederick, notwithstanding his condem
nation of his brother, two or three years later, under
the pressure of the Eevolution, left the church for the
state, and entered Congress under the Federal Con
stitution.

CHAPTER XIII.
THOMAS ALLEN.
Hib Birth and Education. — Settles in Pittsfield. — Takes decided Part
¦with tub Colonies.— Is made Chairman op the Committee of Safety and
Correspondence. — His Labors. — Hib Interest" in the Conquest of Ticon-
deeoga. — New and interesting Letter to Gen. Sktii Pomeroy. — Helps to
furnish Knox with an Ox-train to carry Cannon to Boston. — Joins the
Army as Chaplain.— His Diary at the Battle of "White Plains. — Goes
to Ticonderoga. — His Address to the Soldiers, •when momentarily ex
pecting an Attack from Burgoyne. — Leaves the Army in Disgust at tiik
Retreat- — Rallies the Militia to the Aid of Stark, at Bennington. — ¦
His Interview wira him. — Summons the Enemy to surrender, and is
fired at. — Fights in the Ranks. — First over TnE Breast-work. — His
Care for the Wounded. — Returns to his Parish. — Dialogue with a Pa-
nisnioNEE. — "Puts out the Flash." — Goes to Georgia after his Brother's
Widow. — Voyage to England after an Infant Grandchild. — Prays with
and addresses the Crew in Expectation of an Attack. — His Conduct in
the Shay's Rebellion. — His Statesmanship. — His Death.
Some of the clergy who were deeply engaged in the
Eevolution kept a record of the stirring scenes through
which they passed, and left letters and documents that
are still preserved with religious care hy their descend
ants, and which have a priceless value in the eyes of
the historian. The pleasure of perusing them, how
ever, is sadly diminished hy the regret they awaken,
that so much similar material has heen lost, through
accident, want of proper care, or appreciation of its
true worth.
The descendants of the subject of the following
sketch are among the fortunate few who possess such

128 THOMAS ALLEN.
documents and memoranda saved from the wreck of
the past.
Among the patriotic clergymen of New England
none occupies a higher rank than Thomas Allen, of
Pittsfield, who was born in Northampton, January
17th, 1743. An uncle, whose name he bore, having
bequeathed to him a sum sufficient to provide for his
education, he commenced his studies early in life, and
at nineteen graduated with high honor at Cambridge.
He was only twenty-one when he was ordained pastor
of Pittsfield, then a frontier town on the western bor
ders of Massachusetts. He was the first minister ever
settled in the place, which was then a rude collection
of log huts, with the exception perhaps of half a dozen
framed houses.
In 1768 he married the daughter of Eev. Jonathan
Lee, of Salisbury, Conn., by whom he had twelve chil
dren, many of whose descendants at this day shed
lustre on the State that gave them birth. He was of
middle height and slender frame, yet strong and active,
and capable of great endurance. His frank, open
countenance was lit up by a keen and piercing eye.
Ardent in his feelings, hating wrong, and scorning op
pression, he became deeply enlisted in the cause of the
Colonies, from the commencement of the struggle for
redress of grievances, while his zeal and ability made
him the leader in all the measures taken to resist the
encroachments of the mother country. Hence, in June
1774, when the selectmen of the town called a town
meeting, and seven men were appointed a standing
committee of safety and correspondence, he was chosen

CONQUEST OF TICONDEEOGA. 129
chairman. This position brought him into correspon
dence with the leading patriots of the State, and in
the commencement of the Eevolution was one calling
for great activity and labor. Though earnest and elo
quent in his appeals, he was a man of deeds rather
than words, and gave his time and energies to the
carrying out of practical measures.
When the expedition against Ticonderoga was being
organized, he took a deep interest in it, and wrote let
ters to Seth Pomeroy, at Cambridge, not only keeping
him informed of what was going on in the western
part of the State, but suggesting plans of future ac
tion. He helped to unravel plots against the patriots,
caused some to be sent to jail, and drove others with
"hue and cry" out of the region. He traveled over
into New York, bringing back the disaffected, and
stirring up rebellion on every side.
The conquest of Canada, at this time, seemed to
occupy the attention of military leaders almost as
much as the defence of our sea coast ; « and Ticonde
roga and Crown Point being regarded as the key to it,
their capture became of vital importance. It was
necessary, however, that any expedition against them
should be conducted with great secrecy, or reinforce
ments from Canada would be hastened down to gar
rison them more effectually. Mr. Allen thus refers to
the expedition that was finally set on foot :
"Pittsfield, May 4tb, H'JS.
" General Pomeroy :
" Sir— I have the pleasure to acquaint you that a
6*

130 THOMAS ALLEN.
number of gentlemen from Connecticut went from this
place last Thursday morning, having been joined by
Col. Easton, Capt. Dickinson, and Mr. Brown, with
forty soldiers, on an expedition against Ticonderoga
and Crown Point, expecting to be reenforced by men
from the grants above here, a post having previously
taken his departure to inform Col. Ethan Allen of the
design, and desiring him to hold his Green Mountain
boys in actual readiness. The expedition has been
carried on with the utmost secrecy, as they are in
hopes of taking the forts by surprise. He expects
they will reach those forts by Saturday next, or Lord's
day at the farthest. The plan was concocted at Hart
ford, last Saturday, by the Governor and Council,
Col. Hancock, Mr. Adams, and others from our Prov
ince being present. Three hundred pounds were drawn
immediately out of the treasury for the aforesaid pur
pose, and committed to those gentlemen who were
here. We earnestly pray for success in this important
expedition, as the taking of those places would afford
us a key to all Canada. There is, if- the accounts arc
to be depended upon, not more than twenty soldiers at
each fort. There are a large number of cannon, and I
hear four as excellent brass cannon as we could wish.
Should success attend the expedition, we expect a
strong reinforcement will be sent from the western
part of Connecticut, to keep those forts, and to repair
and fortify them well.
We have had much work hero of late with the tories.
A dark plot has been discovered of sending names
down to Gen. Gage, in consequence of which, and the

LETTER TO GEN. POMEROY. 131
critical situation of the times, we have been compelled
to act with vigor, and have sent Mr. Jones and Graves
to Northampton goal, where they now lie in close con
finement, and have sent a hue and cry after Maj. Stod
dard and Mr. Little, who have fled to New York for
shelter. We hope it will not be long before they are
taken into custody, and committed to close confine
ment. " Our tories are the worst in the Province — all the
effect, the late and present operations have had upon
them is, they are mute and pensive, and secretly wish
for more prosperous days to toryism. As to your im
portant operations, sir, you have the fervent prayers
of all good men that success may attend them. I
hope God will inspire you with wisdom from above in
all your deliberations, and your soldiers with courage
and fortitude, and that Boston will speedily be deliv
ered into your hands — the General thereof, and all the
king's troops — that that den of thieves, that nest of
robbers, that asylum for traitors and murderers, may
be broken up, and never another red coat from Eng
land set foot on these shores.
" I have been concerned, lest General Gage should
spread the small pox in your army. May heaven pro
tect your army from his wicked wiles. May you be
shielded, sir, in the day of battle, and obtain a com
plete victory over those enemies of God and mankind.
I have but one observation to make, which I have often
made, upon the histories I have read, and then I must
put an end to this tedious epistle — it is this : seldom

132 THOMAS ALLEN.
or never do the greatest generals improve a victory
when it is obtained.
" I am, with great respect,
" Your humble, obedient servant,
"Thomas Allen."
The young divine, chairman of the committee of
safety and correspondence, is closely watched, and his
name sent down to Gen. Gage as the most dangerous
character to the king's cause in the western part of the
Colony. He is a marked man ; and his clerical pro
fession will not save his neck from the halter, if he
once falls into the hands of the enemy ; but, instead
of being alarmed by these secret efforts to accomplish
his destruction, he marks the conspirators, puts some
of tbem in chains, and drives others over the border
in affright. Though by profession a man of peace, in
this great struggle he is a man of blood. Active and
keen, his knowledge extends everywhere, and his blow
falls quick and sudden as a bolt from heaven. Plot
ting tories are struck in the midst of their conspira
cies, and while they are sending his name to Gen. Gage
for future reference, he sends them to prison.
The closing sentence of this letter is significant. He
is afraid of temporizing measures — that victory would
be followed by delays, in hopes of adjusting matters
without farther bloodshed, His theory is the one
Bonaparte carried out triumphantly— follow up a suc
cessful blow with strokes so rapid that the staggered
enemy will not have time to recover. It is a delicate
hint, and well worth attending to. This letter reveals

LETTER TO GEN. POMEROY. 133
a characteristic that belonged to all the patriotic
clergy of that day — belief that faith and works must
go together. While leaving no stone unturned to
secure the ends he has in view, he yet looks upward
for the blessing of heaven, without which all his labors
he knows will be in vain.
Five days .after this he writes again to Gen. Pome
roy, evidently in answer to a letter he has received
from him, asking for information. This correspond
ence shows that Mr. Allen was looked upon as the
leading patriot in the part of Massachusetts where he
resided, and that in addition to the duties of the par
ish, he had on his shoulders the charge of the political
movements of the county.
The second letter to Gen. Pomeroy is dated :
"Pittsfield, May 9th, 17 15.
" Gen. Pomeroy :
" Sir — I shall esteem it a great happiness if I can
communicate any intelligence to you that shall be of
any service to my country. In my last I wrote to you
of the northern expedition. Before this week ends we
are in raised hopes here of hearing that Ticonderoga
and Crown Point are in other hands. Whether the
expedition fails or succeeds, I will send you the most
early intelligence, as I look on it as an affair of great
importance. " Solomons, the Indian king at Stockbridge, was
lately at Col. Easton's, of this town, and said that the
Mohawks had not only given liberty to the Stock-
bridge Indians to join us, but had sent them a belt,

134 THOMAS ALLEN.
denoting that they would hold in readiness five hun
dred men to join us immediately on the first notice,
and that the said Solomons holds an Indian post in
actual readiness to run with the news as soon as they
shall be wanted. Should the council of war judge it
necessary to send to them, after being better informed
of the matter by Capt. Goodrich, now in the service,
if you should issue out your orders to Col. Easton, I
make no doubt that he would bring them down soon.
These Indians might be of great service, should the
king's troops march out of Boston, as some think they
undoubtedly will upon the arrival of their recruits,
and give us battle.
" Our militia this way are vigorously preparing for
actual service — adjacent towns and this town are
bringing arms and ammunition. There is plenty of
arms to be sold at Albany as yet, but we hear, by
order of the major, no powder is to be sold for the
present there. The spirit of liberty runs high there,
as you have doubtless heard by their post to our head
quarters. I have exerted myself to disseminate the
same spirit in King's district, which has of late taken
surprising effect. The poor tories at Kinderhook are
mortified and grieved, and are wheeling about, and
begin to take the quick step. New York government
begins to be alive in the glorious cause, and to act with
vigor. Some this way say that the king's troops will
carry off all the plate, merchandise, and plunder from
the town of Boston, to pay them for their ignominious
expedition, which, in my opinion, would not be at all

LETTER TO GEN. POMEROY. 135
inconsistent with the shameful principles of those who
sent them on so inglorious an expedition.
" I fervently pray, sir, that our Council of War may
be inspired with wisdom from above, to direct the
warlike enterprise with prudence, discretion, and vigor.
0, may your councils of deliberation be under the
guidance and blessing of heaven. Since I began to
write, an intelligent person, who left Ticonderoga Sat
urday before last, informs me that, having went through
there and Crown Point about three weeks ago, all were
secure, but on his return he found they were alarmed
with our expedition, and would not admit him into
the fort — that there were twelve soldiers at Crown
Point, and he judged near two hundred at Ticonde
roga — that those forts were out of repair and much in
ruins — that it was his opinion that our men would un
doubtedly be able to take them, and that he met our
men last Thursday, who were well furnished with
cattle and wagons laden with provisions and in good
spirits, who he supposed would arrive there last ' Sab
bath day, and he doubted not that this week they
would be in possession of those forts. He informed
them where they might find plenty of ball, and there
are cannon enough at Crown Point which they can not
secure from us. That he saw the old Sow* from Cape
Breton, and a number of good brass cannon, at Ticon
deroga. Should the expedition succeed, and should
the Council of War send up their order for the people
this way, to transport by land twenty or thirty of the
* Taken at tho siege of Louisburg.

136 THOMAS ALLEN.
best of the cannon to head quarters, I doubt not but
the people in this country would do it with expedition.
We could easily collect a thousand yoke of cattle for
the business.
" Since I wrote the last paragraph, an express has
arrived from Benedict Arnold, commander of the forces
against Ticonderoga for recruits, in consequence of
which orders are issued out for a detachment of
eighteen men of each company in this regiment to
march immediately, who will be on their way this day.
" I am with great respect, sir,
" Your humble servant,
" Thomas Allen."
This letter shows how complicated and extensive
was the business devolving on Mr. Allen. He ascer
tains the state of things at Ticonderoga and Crown
Point — finds where ammunition can be obtained, cor
responds with New York, goes over in person to the
" King's District," and gives the " glorious cause "
there a fresh impulse — furnishes important informa
tion respecting the attitude of the Indians, anticipates
the need there will be at Boston for the cannon in
Ticonderoga, and offers to collect a thousand yoke of
cattle to transport them thither ; and while in the
midst of all this, he is arrested by the arrival of an
express from Arnold demanding recruits, and stops
long enough to add that eighteen men from each com
pany are detailed for the service.
The next day, Ticonderoga surrendered to Ethan
Allen, creating great exultation throughout the New

joins the arMy as chaplain. 137
England Colonies. Thomas Allen sent off his posts
in every direction, speeding the glad news.
Throughout the summer that followed, Washington
laid close siege to Boston. He was, however, very
much crippled in his operations for want of cannon,
and next winter Knox volunteered to go to Ticonde
roga, and transport some of those in the fort across
the country. Had Allen's proposition been accepted
in May, they would have been at Boston as soon as
Washington was.
Knox took no means of transportation from the
army, relying entirely on the inhabitants of the west
ern frontier to furnish them. Allen was foremost in
responding to his call, and "soon a train of forty-two
sleds, laden with over fifty guns and two thousand
pounds of lead, was seen slowly traversing the wilder
ness towards Boston. In a short time they were
frowning from Dorchester Heights, and under their
stern and threatening aspect the British fleet dropped
down the bay, and the city became untenable.
After the battle of Long Island and the fall of
New York, which sent much discouragement through
out the land, Allen could no longer remain at home
an idle spectator of the conflict, and set out for the
army at Kingsbridge, and offered his services as
chaplain. In the movements and battles that followed after
the army broke up its position at Harlaem Heights,
until it commenced its sad retreat through New Jer
sey, he bore a conspicuous part. Like Gano and oth
ers, he did not consider his duty limited to preaching

138 THOMAS ALLEN.
to the soldiers and praying with them, but felt called
upon to furnish an example of courage in danger, and
endurance under privations.
A part of a journal kept by him at this time
has been preserved by one of his descendants, now re
siding in Pittsfield, in which we get transient gleams
of his life in camp. Among others we find such
entries as the following, evidently made in a great
hurry, and jotted down perhaps on the head of a drum
or the crown of his hat.
" October 23d, at White Plains. — I saw our men
bringing in a Hessian on a sort of bier, who was wound
ed in the leg. There had been an action just before,
between a party of our men and the enemy — we killed
between ten and twenty of the enemy, and took two
prisoners, whom I saw. The Hessian's leg was broken
— as he was brought in the multitude behaved badly.
The Hessian behaved well, took off his hat to the
crowd. He was a rifleman, dressed in green faced
with white — was very dark, owing to his long voyage
of twenty weeks, had arrived only three weeks be
fore." Oct. 24. — At night struck our tents — moved off
four miles towards White Plains — this night encamped
without a tent upon the ground."
Oct. 25. — All day under arms, in continual expecta
tion of an attack from the enemy, who appeared, par
aded in sight, marching and countermarching — a great
battle expected to be at the door. Night after this
day lay also on the ground under a brush shelter."

BATTLE OF WHITE PLAINS. 139
Saturday, Oct. 26. — Sun rose clear, the enemy near
— a great battle drawing on."
The latter part of October, with its frosty nights,
was not a good time for a young clergyman to begin
sleeping on the ground, in the open air. Yet to one
in whose bosom the fire of patriotism burned with
such a fervent glow as in his, these privations and ex
posures were unthought of, and do not receive a pass
ing notice. He says : —
" Yesterday forgot to dine. This day made an ex
cellent dinner on bread and butter only — being in a
continual expectation of a cannonade from the enemy,
who now lay in plain sight at the distance of little
more than half a mile."
He is not a mile or two from camp, in the hospital
with the surgeons, but in full view of the enemy,
snatching his dinner of bread and butter, with his eye
watching the gleaming lines and the long rows of can
non within point blank shot, and whose thunders may
at any moment bring his frugal repast to a close.
" Kindled up our fires after dark, and began our re
treat, with General Bell's brigade in the most excel
lent order — keeping out our flank guards, etc."
" Lord's-day, Oct. 27. — Arrived at break of day at
White Plains, having performed a march of above
twelve miles in the night. Lay down after daylight
for sleep on the ground."
They had not lain long before the sharp rattle of

140 THOMAS ALLEN.
musketry roused them from their repose, and the
march recommenced. The balls flew thick around the
chaplain, but the only remark he makes about it is —
" Encamped on White Plains in our tent, having been
marvellously preserved in our retreat." " Dr. Wright,
of New Marlborough, was buried this day— such a con
fused Sabbath I never saw."
The retreat under fire — the booming of cannon at
intervals — shouts and orders of officers — the pealing
bugle and the fierce roll of the drum — giving way at
last to the almost equally great tumult of pitching the
camp, might well make a Sabbath day long to be re
membered. The whistling of bullets near him had
more than once reminded him from what a scene of
confusion he might, in a moment, be called away to
the still land, where the tread of armies is never heard,
and the sound of battle never comes.
In the battle of the 28th he occupied a position
where he could see distinctly every movement of the
hostile line, and towards the close of it, when the mili
tia under Gen. McDougal fled, he, in his eagerness to
help save the army from defeat, hurried forward to
offer his services as a volunteer.
One sees occasionally in Mr. Allen's letters and jour
nal that, in his earlier days, he had read military his
tory with more than ordinary care. This is evident from
the following short entry in his diary, in which he un
consciously reminds us that, amid the terrific cannonade
and rattle of small arms, and smoke and confusion of
the conflict, he forgot every thing in the manceuvering
of the two armies — looking to that more than to the

BATTLE OF WHITE PLAINS. 141
effect of the cannonade, as indicative of the final re
sult : —
" Oct. 28. — About 9 o'clock, a. m., the enemy and
our out parties were engaged ; about 10, they appeared
in plain sight, falling off towards our right wing. A
Btrong cannonade ensued from both armies. A great
part of the enemy's strength seemed bent towards our
right wing, but no additional force of ours was as yet
directed that way.
" At length the enemy came up with our right wing,
and a most furious engagement ensued by cannonnade
and small arms, which lasted towards two hours. Our
wing was situated on a hill,* and consisted of, perhaps,
something more than a brigade of Maryland forces.
The cannonades and small arms played most furiously
without cessation— I judge more than twenty- three
cannon in a minute.
" At length a reenforcement of Gen. Bell's brigade
was ordered from an adjacent hill, where I was. I
had an inclination to go with them to the hill, that I
might more distinctly see the battle, and perhaps con
tribute my mite to our success. Just as we began to
ascend the hill, we found our men had given way, and
were moving off the hill in some confusion, at which
some elevated shots from the enemy came into the val
ley where we were very thick — one of which took off
the fore part of a man's foot in about three rods of me.
I saw the ball strike, and the man fall ; as none ap
peared for his help, I desired five or six of those who
• Chattertoa's Hill. — Editor.

142 THOMAS ALLEN.
had been in battle to carry him off. Others I saW car
rying off wounded in different directions. With the
rest I retreated to the main body. Our men fought
with great bravery ; they were sore galled by the ene
my's field-pieces."
The whole British force now drew up before the for
tified heights, on which Washington lay^ but dared
not attempt to carry them until the arrival of rein
forcements on the 30th, when it was resolved to move
en masse on the position. But that night a terrific
storm of wind and rain set in, and when it cleared
away, Washington quietly withdrew with his army to
North Castle. The wind roared' fiercely through the
Highlands, fanning into greater fury the flames of the
burning village, which lighted their pathway over the
hills. How long he remained with the main army after this
is not known, but it is evident that the formidable move
ments on our northern frontier soon called him thither;
for, when the news of Burgoyne's invasion was spread
ing consternation over the country, we find him at
Ticonderoga, where St. Clair was posted to arrest the
progress of the invader. Believing in his courageous
soul, that Burgoyne's powerful expedition would be
broken in pieces against this strong fortress, he looked
forward in high spirits to the day of its arrival before
it. He animated the men by his patriotic appeals,
and promised them that he would fight and fall by
their side. He would not only pray with them, but
die with them. He saw the deep design of the British

GOES TO TICONDEROGA. 143
in this formidable movement, and felt that its success
would be a death blow to the Colonies. He believed
it, therefore, to be the duty of every man, to die in his
place rather than to suffer the enemy to pass this bar
rier, the only one of importance that crossed his march
to the heart of New York State. He for one was wil
ling then and there to offer himself up a sacrifice to
his country, and he called on all to follow his example.
They might be overborne, but even in their death in
flict, like Sampson, a mortal blow on the enemy.
His feelings and determination at this fearful crisis
in our history, as they are exhibited, in an address he
made to the soldiers, when the enemy was drawn up
in battle array before them, and an attack was mo
mentarily expected, challenge' our highest admiration.
The American outposts towards Lake George, after a
mere show of resistance, had been driven in. The
enemy had covered Mount Hope with artillery that
completely commanded the road in that direction,
while artillery, and ammunition, and stores were being
hurried rapidly forward. The " Thunderer," with the
battery train, had come up, and anchored in full view,
while,- to complete their dismay, the sun, as it rose on
the morning of the 5th over the eastern hills, lit up
the summit of Mount Defiance glowing in scarlet uni
forms, while between, a long row of heavy brass cannon
flashed in the early light, and looked threateningly
down into the uncovered works. This fearful appari
tion had come in the night time, and as the officers
gazed on it, they were filled with consternation, and
St. Clair immediately called a council of war, — for an

144 THOMAS ALLEN.
attack was momentarily expected. Mr. Allen, too,
gazed on the alarming spectacle, but while the council
of war was discussing the best plan of retreat, he
mounted the platform of a gun, and turning to the
soldiers drawn up in battle array, strove to arouse
them to meet the coming shock like men. Every eye
was turned on that frowning eminence, expecting each
instant to see the white puffs of smoke herald the iron
storm that should send death amid their ranks. In
this fearful moment, when the fate of the Colonies, as
he believed, rested on their conduct in the next few
hours, he thus addressed them :
" Valiant soldiers ! Yonder " (pointing to the en
emy that lay in sight) " are the enemies of your coun
try, who have come to lay waste, and destroy, and
spread havoc and devastation through this pleasant
land. They are enemies hired to do the work of death,
and have no motive to animate them in their under
taking. You have every consideration to L  ?e you
to play the man, and act the part of valiant soldiers.
Your country looks up to you for its defence. You
are contending for your wives, whether you or they
shall enjoy them. You are fighting for your children,
whether they shall be yours or theirs — your houses
and lands — for your flocks and herds, for your freedom,
for future generations, for every thing that is great
and noble, on account of which only life itself is worth
a fig. You must, you will abide the day of trial.
You can not give back, whilst animated by these con
siderations.

ADDRESS TO THE SOLDIERS. 145
"Suffer me, therefore, on this occasion to recom
mend to you, without delay, to break off your sins by
righteousness, and your iniquity by turning unto the
Lord. Turn ye, turn ye, ungodly sinners ; for why
will ye die ? Eepent, lest the Lord come and smite
you with a curse. Our camp is filled with blasphem
ers, and resounds with the language of the infernal
regions. Oh ! that officers and men might fear to take
the holy and tremendous name of God in vain. Oh !
that you would now return to the Lord, lest destruc
tion should come upon you, lest vengeance overtake
you. Oh ! that you were wise, that you understood
this your latter end.
" I must recommend to you the strictest attention to
your duty, and the most punctual obedience to your
officers. Discipline, order and regularity are the
strength of an army.
" Valiant Soldiers ! should our enemy attack us,
I exhort and conjure you to play the man. Let no
danger appear too great — let no suffering appear too
severe for you to encounter for your bleeding, country.
God's grace assisting me, I am determined to fight and
die by your side, rather than flee before our enemies,
or resign myself to them.
"Prefer death to captivity. Ever remember your
unhappy brethren, made prisoners at Fort Washington,
whose blood now crieth to heaven for vengeance, and
ghakes the pillars of the world, saying, ' How long, 0
Lord holy and true, dost thou not charge our blood on
them that dwell on the earth.' •
"Eather than quit this ground with infamy and
7

146 THOMAS, ALLEN.
disgrace, I should prefer leaving this body of mine a
corpse on the spot.
" I must finally recommend it to you, and urge it
on you again and again, in time of action to keep
silence. Let all be hushed and calm, serene and tran
quil, that the word of command may be distinctly
heard, and resolutely obeyed, and may the God of
heaven take us all under his protection, and cover our
heads in the day of battle, and grant unto us his sal
vation." Noble and brave heart ! how little he thought that
at that very moment, when he was pouring his own
heroic spirit into the troops, and nerving them to the
high resolution to stand or die at their posts, saying
that he would stand and die with them, it had been
resolved in a council of war to abandon those strong
works, the key of the north, and retreat through the
wilderness. The announcement of this decision fell like a thun
derbolt upon him. It is difficult to say whether
despair or scorn predominated in his bosom, when he
saw the army defile out of the works — leaving all the
artillery, ammunition and baggage behind, the prey of
the enemy — and take up its precipitate, disorderly
flight southward. A catastrophe, so sudden and un
expected, overwhelmed him. It seemed a dream that
those strong defences, so gallantly won at the begin
ning of the revolution by a handful of brave men, and
hitherto so firmly held,- could be abandoned without
one blow being struck for their preservation; and arms

LEAVES THE ARMY. 147
and stores, gathered with such expense and care, aban
doned to the proud and exultant foe. It had never oc
curred to him that the commanding officers would be
found wanting in this terrible crisis ; hence, all his
efforts had been with the men, to make them, who
were unaccustomed to the sight of carnage and the
shock of arms, firm and steadfast. And when the in
famous deed was done, he did not stop to consider
what rules of the martinet had influenced the officers
in their action. It was enough for him that the guns,
shotted and primed, slept dumb in their places, and
were not allowed to speak for freedom.
He was one of those men who did not look upon de
feat as the most direful calamity that could happen.
A great example was next in value to a great victory
to a country struggling to be free. A fierce-fought
battle, though disastrous, made heroes, while a dis
graceful, hasty retreat made cowards. Thermopylae
did as much for Greece as Plataea ; and Leonidas
made more heroes than Pausanias. He had told Gen.
Pomeroy that " in his reading of history he had no
ticed that great generals seldom if ever made proper
use of victory," he had also seen that without conflicts
troops are never made brave.
He did not retreat with the army to Saratoga, and
though it does not appear at what point, or how he
left it, it is evident he took his departure with feelings
of the deepest disgust. He would not stay with an
army, whose commanding officers he qonsidered -pol
troons, and more worthy of court martial than of posi
tions of trust. He returned home discouraged and in-

148 THOMAS ALLEN.
dignant. He felt that had he commanded at Ticon
deroga, its ramparts, though carried at last by the
overwhelming foe, would first have been baptised in
blood. That these feelings were not an ebullition of the
moment, but the result of calm and sober reflection,
is evident from the following note, appended to the
above address, and written several weeks after, and
subsequent to the battle of Bennington.
"In about five hours afterwards," he scornfully
writes, "the garrison was evacuated, and our vast
army fleeing before their enemies with the utmost pre
cipitation and irregularity, leaving behind, for the use
of the enemy, an immense amount of baggage, artil
lery, ammunition, provisions, and every warlike neces
sary. ' How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons
of war perished !' A short time will decide the fate
of America. It must depend on the treatment of those
five general officers loho gave up Ticonderoga, and
and those one hundred and seventy-five tory traitors,
taken in the militia battle near Bennington. If these
can not be brought to justice, then am I ready to pro
nounce what is, in my opinion, the sad doom of these
states — the end is come. ' Your end is come, your de
struction draweth nigh.' »
" Justice is one of the pillars of civil government,
without which it can not exist and last amongst
them." These views did not spring from a naturally fierce
and warlike spirit, for he was distinguished for the
kindliness of his nature, and the warmth and tender-

RALLIES THE MILITIA. 149
ness of his feelings, but from his judgment ; for, like
the clergy generally of New England, he was thorough
ly versed in the history of nations, and was, governed
by views, more comprehensive and statesmanlike, than
those whose knowledge was confined to technical mili
tary rules.
Though Mr. Allen returned home, disgusted with St.
Clair, the moment he received the call of Stark, asking
the Berkshire militia to rally to the defence of Ben
nington, against which Col. Baum with his band of
Hessians was advancing, all his old energy returned.
He knew Stark, and that wherever he commanded
there would be fierce fighting, whatever the result
might be. This gallant officer, though smarting under
the insulting conduct of Congress, that did not hesitate
to appoint and promote inferior officers, and neglect
good ones, still loved his country. He would not
serve under a Congress that he despised, but he would
keep his own state from the foot of the invader.
Allen took an active part in rallying the Berkshire
militia to his aid, and accompanied them in their rapid
march to his camp, which they reached on the morn
ing of the 16th of August, just before daylight. They
arrived in a pouring thunder-shower, and though
drenched to the skin, Mr. Allen immediately sought
an interview with Stark. Still smarting under the
disgrace of Ticonderoga, the brave divine this time de
termined not to waste his efforts on the soldiers, but
to tell the commander beforehand, that they had not
obeyed his call, and marched thither to join in an ig
nominious retreat, but to fight. He therefore said to

150 THOMAS ALLEN.
him, plainly and bluntly, " Gen. Stark, the Berkshire
militia have often been summoned to the field, with
out being allowed to fight ; now, if you don't give
them a chance this time, they will never turn out
again." Stark, a hero himself, loved to hear the ring
of the true metal, and was amused instead of offended
at the gallant bearing and outspoken fearlessness of
the young clergyman, and smiling, replied : " Do you
wish to march now, while it is dark and raining ?"
" No ; not just at this moment." " Well then," said
the former, " if the Lord will give us sunshine to-mor
row, and I do not give you fighting enough, I will
never ask you to come out again." The Lord did give
them sunshine, and the morning-drum roused up the
soldier to as beautiful a day as ever blessed the world.
A brisk west wind shook the rain drops in a shower of
pearls from the surrounding forest — the blue sky bent
tranquilly above the gentle stream, on whose banks
they stood in martial array — and all was bright and
peaceful. During the forenoon, while the several columns were
marching to the various positions assigned them, one
of the militia remarked to Mr. Allen, " We will do
our own fighting to-day." " Yes," said he, " we shall
have a good time at the enemy, but we are not quite
ready yet, we must first join in prayer ;" and there,
under the August sky, he lifted up his earnest prayer,
that God would give them the victory. He had no
intention, however, of doing the praying, and letting his
congregation do all the fighting. He meant to fight
himself, and if the example of their pastor could make

CARE OF THE WOUNDED. 151
them brave, he resolved there should be no cowards
among the Berkshire men that day. When they came
in sight of the Hessians, and just before the attack
commenced, he advanced alone in front, in his clerical
gown, and, mounting a stump, called out in a voice
distinctly heard by them, to surrender, and save the
effusion of blood, promising them generous treatment
if they would. The only reply to his summons was a
volley of musketry. As the bullets whistled around
his ears, one passing through his hat, he descended
from his stump, and returned to the ranks. When
the battle commenced, he did as he had resolved to do
at Ticonderoga, if the commander had given him a
chance — fought in the ranks" with the soldiers. Some
of his parishioners stood around him, and among
them a brother. Seeing that he was a better marks
man than his brother, he said to him in the midst of
the battle, "Joe, you load, and I'll fire," and so they
fought side by side God's own battle on that warm
August day. At the final charge he led the militia,
and was among the first over the breastworks, and
heard with an exultant, overflowing heart the shout
of victory go up from the blood-stained heights.
No sooner was the battle over than he devoted him
self, with his accustomed tenderness and energy, to the
wounded. Amid the Hessian steeds straying over the
heights without masters, he came across a surgeon's
horse loaded with panniers of wine. While the others
were roaming the field in search of plunder, he seized
on these, and immediately distributed them to the
wounded and weary, and moved like an angel of mercy

152 THOMAS ALLEN.
among friends and foes alike. Two large square crystal
battles he carried home with him as trophies of the
fight, which were long preserved in his family as choice
relics, and in which the health of the gallant old pa
triot was often drunk in the juice of the currant.
The night succeeding the battle, and the following
day, he ministered to the disabled and dying, and on
the third day, Saturday, mounted his horse, and mak
ing a long journey, reached his parish that night, and
preached next day. It is a pity that the sermon and
services of that Sabbath have not been preserved.
They would doubtless remind one of the song of Miriam
that rose so sublimely from the shores of the Eed Sea,
strewn with the wreck of Pharaoh's host.
This great battle and victory were the theme of every
tongue, and the part Mr. Allen bore in it a subject
of general comment. One of his parishioners, hearing
that he had fought like a common soldier, came to him,
and inquired if it was so. " Yes," he said, " I did, it
was a very hot, close battle, and it became every pa
triot to do his duty." " Well, but," said the parish
ioner, " Mr. Allen, did you kill any body ?" " No," he
replied. " I don't know that I killed any body ; but I
happened to notice a frequent flash from behind a
certain bush, and every time I saw that flash one of
our men fell. I took aim at the bush, and fired. I
don't know that I killed any body, but I put out that
flash." — Ah ! but for the clergy of New England it is
doubtful, if the flash of the enemy's guns in the Eevo
lution would ever have been put out !
At the-close of the next year, his brother Moses, of

GOES TO GEORGIA. 153
Georgia, also a chaplain in the army, and one of the
most influential, uncompromising patriots in the State,
and fearless like himself, was taken prisoner in the
battle before Savannah, where he exposed himself to
the hottest of the fire, and with unheard of brutality
put on board a prison ship. Here he suffered every
indignity that could be conceived for weeks, and then
threw himself overboard, and attempted to swim
ashore. Unequal to the task he was drowned, leaving
a young wife and infant son in that new country, with
her home burned to the ground, and the congregation,
amid which she had lived, scattered in every direction
by the merciless foe. Thomas, unwilling to leave her
thus unprotected and alone, determined to bring her
to his own home. This was not so easy a task, but
with his accustomed energy, that never would permit
obstacles, however formidable, to deter him from a
purpose once formed, he set out to make the long jour
ney on horseback. In those early times it would have
been sufficiently arduous, had the country been at
peace, and the most public thoroughfares open to him.
But, with the country distracted by war — all the cities
of the sea board in the hands of the enemy, forcing
him to skirt the dangerous frontiers — it was one full
of peril. Of the hardships he underwent, and dangers
he escaped in this journey, there remains no record —
we only know it took him eleven days to reach Balti
more. They were sufficient, it seems, to prevent him
from returning the same way, and he chose the nearly
equally dangerous one of returning by water. Pro
tected by heaven, however, he escaped . the enemy's
7*

154 THOMAS ALLEN.
ships, and at length had the gratification of seeing the
widow and son under his own roof in Pittsfield.
During the famous " Shay's rebellion," which reached
to his own county, he took prompt and decided ground
on the side of government. His powerful influence,
which the 'insurgents could not make head against,
so exasperated them that they openly threatened to
seize him, and carry him as a hostage to New York
State. This threat, however, was easier made than
executed. A man, who had stood unmoved amid the
carnage of battle, and carried his life in his hand
through the long struggle of the Eevolution, was not
one likely to yield tamely to a lawless rabble. He
openly defied them, and slept with loaded arms in his
bed room, ready to shoot down the first miscreant that
dared attempt to lay hands upon him. None were
found willing to make the hazardous experiment.
They thought in this case discretion to be the better
part of valor, and let him alone.
In 1799, his eldest daughter, who had married Mr.
Wm. P. White, a merchant of Boston, died in London,
leaving an infant behind, without a relative in trie
kingdom to care for it — her husband being in the East
Indies on business. His heart, great as his courage,
was moved by the friendless condition of this infant
grandchild, and he resolved at once to go for it. His
affections were strong as his will, and when impelled
by either, it was no common obstacle that could arrest
him. Bidding his congregation an affectionate fare
well, he embarked on board the ship Argo for London.
On the way they were pursued by a large vessel which

VOYAGE TO ENGLAND. 155
they took to be a French ship of war. The captain
was alarmed, and assembled all on board, to deliberate
on the course to be pursued. After a short consulta
tion, it was resolved to fight, however unequal the
contest might be : for a French prison could only be
their fate if conquered, while they were certain to be
thrown into one if they surrendered. In this extrem
ity Mr. Allen requested the captain to let him pray
with the men, and make a speech to them, to encour
age them to fight bravely. He gave his consent, and
the voice, that twenty years before had nerved Amer
ican patriots to battle, now thrilled the hearts of that
little crew on the broad Atlantic. The frigate contin
ued to approach, but at length, to their great joy, she
ran up the British ensign. Mr. Allen then assembled
passengers and crew, and offered up fervent thanksgiv
ing to God for their escape.
In England he formed the acquaintance of John
Newton, Eowland Hill, and others, through whom
his warmest sympathies became enlisted in the subject
of foreign missions, which he showed by his earnest
advocacy of them on his return home. He was absent
from his congregation on this voyage nearly six months
— his tempestuous return passage alone occupying
three months lacking five days.
In those times of high political excitement between
federalists and democrats, Mr. Allen was one of the few
New England divines that sympathised with the latter.
At the present day, the patriotic clergy of the
Eevolution are often looked upon as good, zealous
men, and nothing more — while in fact they were tho

156 THOMAS ALLEN.
soundest statesmen of the time. This was the case
with Mr. Allen, and the jealous eye with which he
watched every step of the civil government during
the war, showed how keenly he felt the danger of
illegal authority springing up in the midst of revolu
tion, whose decisions would lead to after-trouble.
Thus, in 1779, a session of the Superior Court was
appointed in Great Barrington. He immediately
drew up an able remonstrance against it, on the
ground that it was a dangerous precedent to consent
to the operation of law until a constitution, or form
of government, or bill of rights had been adopted.
This paper is still preserved in the family, and shows
a clear head and a far-reaching political wisdom, not
commonly found in turbulent times.
It does not come within the plan of this work to
write his biography as a clergyman to its close. He
was an impressive preacher, and on occasions, that
called forth the tenderer feebngs, such as the sacra
ment of the Lord's Supper, would drown his audi
ence in tears. He preached forty-six years, faithful
to his high calling as he was to his country. When
prostrated . by his final sickness, he approached the
grave serene and tranquil. No cloud darkened its por
tals, no doubt dimmed the clear vision of his faith.
Besting not on his own merits, but on his crucified
Lord, in whom he trusted without wavering, he mur
mured in sweet peace, "Come, Lord Jesus, come
quickly !" Just before his death, one of his children
urged him to take some nourishment, saying that it
would be impossible for him to live if he did not.

HIS DEATH. 157
" Live .'" exclaimed the dying patriot and saint, " /
am going to live forever."
Thus, Feb. 11th, 1810, in the sixty-eighth year of
his age, passed away this great and good man. Noble
by nature, an earnest Christian, a faithful minister of
the Gospel, a brave patriot — his name should be in
scribed high on the monument that commemorates his
country's independence.

CHAPTER XIV.
JOHN ROSSBURGH.
An Irishman bt Bieth. — His Education. — Is bettled at the "Foeks or th*
Delaware." — His Patriotism. — Joins a. Company fobmed in his own Par
ish as a Soldier. — His painful Pasting with his Wife. — Makes his Will.
— Chaplain of a Regiment. — Marches against the Enemy. — Is takes'
Prisoner, and murdered while praying for his Enemies. — The mutilated
Corpse stealthily buried. — His Letters to ms Wife just before a Skir-
mish. — His Character.
It was hardly possible, in a war in which clergy
men often exposed themselves like the meanest soldier,
and rendered themselves so obnoxious to the enemy
by the leading part they took in the rebellion, that
some should not have fallen on the battle-field, or
otherwise suffered a violent death from the hands of
their foes. The Eevolution would have been less
sacred, if their blood had not mingled in the costly
sacrifice that was laid on the altar of freedom.
John Eossburgh was one of these, giving his life to
the cause to which he had already given his heart.
He was an Irishman by birth, though he came to this
country when a lad of eighteen years of age. The
death of his wife and infant son early in life caused
him to turn his thoughts to the ministry. He had
already learned a trade, but at once abandoned it, and
though compelled to rely almost entirely on his own
resources, prepared himself for college, and graduated
at Princeton in 1761. He was licensed, to preach in

HIS PATRIOTISM. 159
1763, and soon after settled at the " Forks of the Dela
ware," in New Jersey. At the outbreak of the Eevo
lution his feelings at once became deeply enlisted in the
struggle, and in his prayers and sermons he showed
with what absorbing interest he watched its progress.
The fall of New York and the subsequent disasters
that overtook the army so wrought upon his patriotism
that, when he saw that dispirited and diminished army
fleeing through the State before their haughty and
insolent foes, he could remain an idle spectator no
longer. Calling together his congregation, he besought
them as patriots, as Christians, to fly to the help of
Washington and his despairing troops. They re
sponded to his appeal, and organized a company in
which he, to show a noble example, was the first to
enroll himself as a private soldier : and pastor and
people rallied under one standard.
The evening before he was to take his departure for
camp was a solemn one, for at break of day he ex
pected to leave his wife and children, perhaps never to
see them again on earth. He felt all the perils of the
step he had taken, but he had no misgivings. It was
the more solemn to him because he had a presentiment,
that his parting with his family in the morning was to
be a final one. So after they had retired to rest, he
communed for a while with himself and his maker —
thought over the dependent position in which- his death
would leave those he had loved better than his life, and
then calmly drew up his will.
The following extract from it shows that it was no
sudden impulse that drove him to the field of battle,

160 JOHN ROSSBURGH.
but a well considered purpose, and one with which he had
gone with a devout heart and a clear conscience to
the throne of God. " Having," he writes, " received
many singular blessings from Almighty God in this
land of my pilgrimage ; more especially a loving wife
and five promising children, I do leave and bequeathe
them all to the protection, mercy and grace of God
from whom I received them. Being encouraged thereto
by God's gracious direction and faithful promise, Jer
emiah, xlix. 11 : ' Leave thy fatherless children, I will
preserve them alive, and let thy widows trust in me.' "
Those whom he thus committed to the care of his
heavenly Father, were quietly slumbering near him,
and tears would rise, and emotions he could not con
trol bear him to the earth, as he thought it was per
haps the last time the same roof should cover them —
but his resolution never faltered. He trusted serenely
in God ; for not the shadow of a doubt crossed his
mind, that it was His cause for which he was about to
offer up his life.
At early dawn he shouldered his musket, and bid
ding his family an affectionate, tender farewell, turned
to depart. But when the last moment came, his wife
could not let him go. Clinging to his neck with a
painful tenacity, she declared she never would part
with him, while tears and sobs choked her utter
ance. Finding himself unable by a gentle effort to
untwine her closely locked arms, and feeling his own
fortitude rapidly giving way before her passionate
grief, he was compelled almost to use violence to dis
engage himself, when hurrying out of the house, he

TAKEN PRISONER. 161
mounted his horse, and galloped off to join his com
pany. The drum was already beating for parade, and
they soon took up the line of march for Philadelphia.
Having arrived there, the company was incorporated
into a regiment of which he was appointed chaplain.
The troops immediately hurried forward, and joined
the retreating army. Being fresh they were sent to
the rear, to check the enemy, and hence were soon en
gaged in a severe skirmish with his advance guard.
Mr. Eossburgh was a fine-looking, portly man, and
consequently was conspicuous in every part of the field,
and by his cool courage and resolute bearing furnished
a noble example to his parishioners. The encounter
took place near the banks of the Trenton, and in the
melee he lost his horse. Going towards the river in
search of him, he suddenly came upon a company of
Hessians, under the command of a British officer.
Being right upon them, before he discovered their pres
ence, he saw at once that escape was hopeless, and
surrendered himself as prisoner, requesting them at
the same time, for the sake of his wife and children,
to spare his life. An insulting epithet was the only
reply deigned him, and he immediately discovered by
their movements that his death was determined upon.
Knowing that entreaty would be of no avail with the
barbarous, bloodthirsty wretches, he turned away, and
kneeling down, calmly committed his wife and children,
>and his own soul about to take its flight from earth,
into the hands of his Maker. He then, in the spirit
of his divine Master, prayed aloud, that he would for
give his murderers, and not lay his blood to their

162 JOHN ROSSBURGH.
charge. His inhuman captors could hardly wait till
his prayer was ended, and before the petition for their
pardon had died on his lips, drove a bayonet through
his body, when he fell forward in the agonies of death.
They then snatched away his watch and part of his
clothing, and mutilating left him weltering in his
blood. The man, or rather fiend, who had acted the
part of executioner, immediately after entered one of
the hotels of Trenton, and told the woman who kept
it, that he had killed a rebel minister, and showed the
watch as proof of what he had done, but added, in a
frenzied manner, that it was too bad he should have
been praying for them while they were killing him.
" Oh !" said she, " you have made bad work for his
poor family." With a frightful oath he retorted, " If
you say another word, I will run you through." He
then seized his sword, and ran off like one possessed
with a devil, and told some British officers what he
had done, who, instead of condemning the dastardly
deed, commended it.
A young soldier, named Hayes, one of his congrega
tion, who had often sat under his preaching, took the
mangled corpse, and concealed it, and the next day
buried it in an out of the way spot near Trenton.
Eev. Mr. Duffield, another chaplain, hearing of it,
went and had the body disinterred, and buried with
proper services in the grave-yard of an adjoining
church. The widow, accompanied by her brother, a
member of the Provincial Congress, came on to see the
corpse, but his murderers had so disfigured it, that it
was with difficulty she could recognize it. Two short

HIS CHARACTER. 163
weeks before, her arms had entwined that noble form,
and now it lay a mutilated mass before her.
She received three letters from him, after ho bade
her farewell, full of affection, and glowing with pa
triotism. The following extract from one shows the
spirit that animated him : " My dear, I am still yours.
I have but a minute to tell you that the company are
all well. We are going over to attack the enemy.
You would think it strange to see your husband, an
old man, with a French fusee slung at his back. This
may be the last you shall ever receive from your hus
band. I have committed myself, you, and the dear
pledges of our mutual love to God. As I am out of
doors, I can write no more. I send my compliments
to you, my dear, and to the children. Friends, pray
for us. I am your loving husband."
Let the scrupulous Christian of to-day condemn, if
he can, this noble divine for fighting in defence of his
country. He had no doubts of the righteousness of
his conduct, when passing with prayer on his lips into
the presence of his God.
Amiable, kind, and distinguished as a peace-maker,
he had to overcome all his natural tendencies to war,
to take up arms ; but having settled it to be his duty,
he had no after-misgivings.
In the turbulent scenes that followed his death, his
grave was left unmarked, and no one, at this day, can
tell where the sainted patriot sleeps.

CHAPTER XV.
ABNER BENEDICT.
His Birth and Education. — Settled at Middletown. — Becomes Chaplalh
in the Army at New York. — Description of a terrific Thunder-storm. —
The Battle of Long Island. — His Feelings. — Tub Last to leave the
Shore in the Retreat. — Inventions in Submarine Navigation. — Manu
factures Saltpetre for Powder. — Elected Professor in Yale College. —
His Character and Death.
Abner Benedict was born at North Salem, N. Y.,
Nov. 9th, 1740. A classmate of Timothy Dwight, he
graduated at Yale College, in 1769, and studied theo
logy with the celebrated Dr. Bellamy, of Bethlehem,
Conn. He married Lois Northrup, of New Milford,
Conn., in 1771, and the next year was ordained and
settled in Middlefield, Middletown, of the same state.
He retained his connection with this church fourteen
years, though, like his classmate Dwight, he was ab
sent a part of the time as volunteer chaplain in the
army. An ardent patriot, his sympathies drew him
away to the field where his countrymen were battling
for their rights, but when the tide of war rolled south
ward, he returned to his parish.
He was with the army in New York, and being
deeply interested in the efforts put forth to destroy the
enemy's ships by torpedos, made some inventions in
submarine navigation, which were looked upon with
great favor by those to whom they were submitted.

TERRIFIC THUNDER-STORM. 165
He often spoke of the excitement which the news of
the landing of the British on Long Island created in
the army, and of its effect on the inhabitants, who saw
that the final struggle for New York was at hand.
The day, around which clustered such momentous
destinies, closed with what seemed an awful omen of
good or ill to the American cause. Mr. Benedict
was in the ranks on Brooklyn Heights at the time,
from the ramparts of which he could look out on the
rolling country, dotted with troops, hurrying in every
direction. The most intense excitement prevailed
throughout the city, and reenforcements had been
pushed rapidly forward all day to meet the coming
shock. But crowded as the day had been with anxious fears
and gloomy forebodings, the coming on of evening
brought new terrors. In the west slowly rose a thun
der-cloud, the glittering, coruscated edges of which
seemed solid as marble, so that when the sun passed
behind it, it was like a total eclipse, and sudden dark
ness fell on sea and land.
Mr. Benedict's description of the appearance and
passage of this thunder-cloud was appalling.* As it
continued to rise higher and higher, he observed that
it was surcharged with electricity, for the lightning was
constantly searching it from limit to limit, and the deep
reverberations that rolled along the heavens without
* Mr. Benedict was my grandfather, and I can remember, -when a
mere child, the effect this description had on me ; but, as I can recall
only disconnected portions of it, I have chosen to put the -whole ac
count in my o-wn language. — Ed.

166 ABNEB BENEDICT.
intermission, sounded more like successive billows
bursting on the shore, than the irregular discharges of
a thunder-cloud. At length, at seven o'clock, it began to rain. All
before had been the skirmishing that precedes the battle,
but now like some huge monster that cloud suddenly
gaped and shot forth flame. Then followed a crash
louder than a thousand cannon discharged at once. It
was appalling. The soldiers involuntarily cowered
before it. In a few moments the entire heavens be
came black as ink, and from horizon to horizon the
whole empyrean was ablaze with lightning, while the
thunder that followed did not come in successive peals,
but in one long continuous crash, as if the very frame
work of the skies was falling to pieces, accompanied
with a confused sound, as though the fragments were
tumbling into a profound abyss. The lightning fell in
masses and sheets of fire to the earth, and seemed to
be striking incessantly and on every side. There was
an apparent recklessness and wildness about the un
loosed strength of the elements that was absolutely
terrifying. The power that was abroad seemed suffi
cient to crush the earth into a thousand fragments.
The fort was silent as the grave, for the strongest
heart bent before this exhibition of God's terrible ma
jesty. It did not pass away like an ordinary shower,
for the cloud appeared to stand still, and swing round
and round like a horizontal wheel over the devoted
city. It clung to it with a tenacity that was frightful.
For three hours, or from seven to ten, the deafening
uproar continued without cessation or abatement.

EFFECTS OF THE STORM. 167
When it finally took its sullen tumultuous departure,
every heart felt relieved.
The morning dawned mild and peaceful, as if no
thing unusual had happened, but soon reports began
to come in of the devastation and death the storm had
spread around. There was no end of the accounts of
almost miraculous escapes of the inmates of houses
that were struck. In others the inhabitants were more
or less injured. A soldier, passing through one of the
streets, without receiving apparently any external
injury, was struck deaf, dumb and blind. A captain
and two lieutenants belonging to McDougal's regi
ment, were killed by one thunderbolt ; the points of
their swords melted off, and the coin melted in their
pockets. Their bodies appeared as if they had been
roasted, so black and crisped was the skin. Ten men
encamped outside of the fort near the river, and occu
pying one tent, were killed by a single flash. When
the tent, that had fallen upon them, was lifted, they
lay scattered around on the ground, presenting a most
melancholy appearance. They belonged to one of the
Connecticut regiments, and were buried in one grave.
The service performed by the chaplain was very solemn
and impressive. Familiar as we become with death in
the midst of war, it somehow affects us very differently
when sent, apparently, direct from the hand of God.
In battle we hear the roar of the guns, and after the
smoke and tumult have passed away, we expect to see
bleeding and mangled forms scattered around. But
there seems a hidden meaning, some secret purpose,

168 ABNEE BENEDICT.
when the bolt is launched by an invisible arm, and
from the mysterious .depths of space.
From every side came in reports of soldiers more or
less injured, and the excitement could hardly have
been greater, and the returns caused more surprise, if
there had been a night-attack on the camp.
Mr. Benedict said he could not account for the cloud
remaining so long stationary, unless the vast amount of
arms collected in and about the city held it by attraction,
and drew from it such a fearful amount of electricity.*
At regimental prayers, next morning, he felt pecu
liarly solemn. The great battle so near at hand, to be
perhaps a decisive one for his country, filled him with
sad forebodings.
Scarcely were the religious services finished, when
strains of martial music were heard near the ferry, and
not long after column after column came winding up
the heights towards the fort. They were six battalions
sent over by Washington, accompanied by General
Putnam, who was to take chief command. The Gen
eral was received with loud cheers, and his presence
inspired universal confidence.
In a short time the whole country, to the front and
right, as far as the eye could reach, was covered with
the smoke of battle, and shook to the thunder of can
non. When the tumult ceased, the fields alive with
fugitives from the American army, told how disastrous
the day had been. Mr. Benedict's heart was filled
with the most poignant sorrow, for not only had the
* This explanation -was in accordance -with the theory of thunder
storms at that' time. — Ed.

LAST TO LEAVE THE SHORE. 169
Americans lost the battle, but the whole army was
now threatened with total destruction. The silence
of the evening that followed was more oppressive than
the uproar and carnage of the day, for "what now
can save the army ? " trembled on every lip. No one
believed the fort could be defended, as all the ap
proaches to it were in the enemy's power ; while the
first movement to retreat across to the city would
bring the ships of war lying just below into their
midst. In this fearful dilemma fervent prayers went up to
Him who alone could deliver. As if in answer to
those prayers, when night deepened, a dense fog came
rolling in, and settled on land and water. At the
same time, with the turn of the tide, a strong east
wind arose, that sent the water with the force of a
torrent into the bay, effectually preventing for the
time the ships, if they had desired it, from entering
the river. Under cover of this fog and the night,
Washington silently withdrew his entire army across
to New York. Mr. Benedict, who watched the prog
ress of this movement with an anxiety that mocked
expression, remained behind, while boat load after
boat load drifted away in the darkness. When the
army was all over, he then consented to go also, and
stepping into a boat, was one of the last who left that
disastrous shore. He retreated with the army to
Harlaem Heights, and was present in the skirmishes
that followed, and witnessed the battle of White
Plains. In the disruption of the army that succeeded
the fall of Fort Washington, he returned to his parish.

170 ABNER BENEDICT.
He continued an ardent patriot throughout the war,
rendering his country every service within his power.
When it was in distress, on account of the scarcity of
powder, he made various experiments in the manufac
ture of saltpetre from materials never before used, in
which he was entirely successful. He hailed with un
bounded delight the return of peace, and a daughter
being born to him on the day of its declaration, he
named her " Irene," the Greek word for peace.
He dissolved his connection with the parish in
Middletown in 1785, and was afterwards settled over
various parishes in succession. The last field of his
labors was Eoxbury, New Jersey, where he died in
1818, aged seventy-eight years. At one time he was
elected professor in Yale College, but declined to ac
cept the appointment.
A man of thorough education, of a deeply philo
sophical mind, and a distinguished mathematician, he
left behind him several pamphlets on various subjects,
and among others one on tides and winds, and another
on submarine navigation and attack. Of noble sym
pathies, warm and generous affections, and ardent piety,
he was known and loved far and wide, and his memory
is still fondly cherished in the places where he labored.

CHAPTER XVI.
WILLIAM WHITE, D.D.
His Birth and early Studies. — Gof.s to England. — Friend of Goldsmith
and Johnson. — Settled in Philadelphia. — Takes tub Oath of Allegiance.
— Noble- Determination. — Elected Chaplain of Congress. — Ills Conduct
after the Eevolution. — Is made Bishop.— His Character and Death.
Among the few Episcopal clergymen, who took part
with the Colonists in their struggle for liberty, Bishop
White stands preeminent. He was born in Philadel
phia, April 4th, 1748. He gave evidences of piety in
early life, and when a mere child showed the strong
bent of his mind towards the ministry. Having grad
uated at the age of sixteen he early commenced his
preparations for holy orders and when he was twenty-
two sailed for England to obtain ordination.
While in London, he was for a while a neighbor of
Goldsmith, with whom he became acquainted. He
was also intimate with Dr. Johnson, of whom he spoke
warmly, and related the following as the only instance
in which the learned lexicographer showed that harsh
ness of manner, of which so many complained. They
were conversing on the Stamp Act, which had caused
such dissatisfaction in the Colonies, when the doctor
remarked, " Had I been prime minister, I would have
sent a ship-of-war, and leveled one of your principal
cities to the ground."
Having been ordained as deacon and priest, he re-

172
turned to Philadelphia in 1772, and was chosen assist
ant minister of Christ and St. Peter's churches.
Though he took no active part in the opening scenes
of the Eevolution, his sympathies were all with the
Colonies. He continued, however, to pray for the
king until the Declaration of Independence was given
to the world, and then he came forward and took the
oath of allegiance. While it was being administered
to him, an acquaintance, standing near, made a signi
ficant gesture by putting his hands to his throat. After
the ceremony was finished Mr. White remarked to
him, " I perceived by your gesture, that you thought I
was exposing myself to great danger by the step I have
taken. But I have not taken it without full delibera
tion. I know my danger, and that it is the greater on
account of being a clergyman of the Church of Eng
land. But I trust in Providence. The cause is a just
one, and I trust will be protected." Noble words,
that do him far more honor than even the exalted po
sition he afterwards attained.
In September, 1777, he was elected chaplain of Con
gress. The circumstances attending the reception of
this appointment, and its acceptance, he often related
afterwards to his friends. He said that " he had re
moved with his family to Maryland, and being on a
journey, stopped at a small village between Harford
County and Philadelphia, at which he was met by a
courier from Yorktown, informing him of his being
appointed by Congress as their chaplain, and request
ing his immediate attendance ; that he thought of it
a short time ; it was in one of the gloomiest periods

IS MADE BISHOP. 173
of the American affairs, when General Burgoyne was
marching without having yet received a serious check,
so far as was then known, through the northern parts
of New York ; and, after a short consideration, in
stead of proceeding on his journey, he turned his
horse's head, and traveled immediately to Yorktown,
and entered on the duties of his appointment."
In this brief account it leaks out accidentally that
the main motive, which induced his acceptance, was
the gloomy prospect of the American cause. He felt
that that was the time, if ever, when the minister of
God should give his prayers and efforts to sustain the
sinking courage of those who stood at the head of
power. It was because the post was fraught with so
much danger, and was connected with such high re
sponsibilities, that he accepted it. His faith never
wavered, for it passed beyond the strong battalions to
the Source of all power.
When the British evacuated Philadelphia, every
clergyman of the Episcopal denomination left the
state but himself. Solitary and alone, he remained at
his post, and, like Abdiel, faithful to the last, cast his
lot in with his suffering country.
As soon as peace was restored, he devoted himself
to the reorganization of the Episcopal Church in the
state, and at the first regular convention was elected
bishop. Of his after-labors in the church, his transcendent
virtues, his elevated character, and his influence, I
shall say nothing. His memory is embalmed in the
hearts of the good of all denominations. When the

174 WILLIAM WHITE, D.D.
yellow fever ravaged Philadelphia, he remained at his
post, exhibiting to the last that noble devotion to
duty, regardless of consequences, which characterised
him as the friend of Washington and of his country.
For the last forty years of his life, he was Senior,
and consequently Presiding, Bishop of the United
States. He died on the morning of the 17th of July,
1836, at the advanced age of eighty-eight.

CHAPTER XVII.
TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
Patriotism of our Colleges. — Dwigiit's BiRTn. — Iiis early Life. — Tutor of
Yale College. — Is licensed to preach. — His Patriotism. — Becomes Chap
lain. — Advocates complete Independence. — His Description of the deso
late Appearance of Westchester County. — His Sermons to tiik Soldiers.
— Eloquent Sermon after the Victory at Saratoga. — Anecdote of Put
nam. — Composes the Ode to Columbia. — Dedicates a Poem to Washing
ton. — Shares the Sufferings of the Soldiers at West Point in the Win
ter of 1778. — His Faith. — His Description of Scene from Sugar Loaf
Mountain. — Also of the Dead Unburied at Fort Montgomery. — Death
of his Father. — Leaves the Army  Settles at Northampton. — Goes to
TnE Legislature — Publishes several Poems. — Elected President of Yalm
College. — A Federalist in 1812. — His Eminence as a Theologian. — His
Death. The lover of education will always point with
pleasure and pride to the bold and patriotic stand
taken by our colleges in the Eevolution. Warmly
espousing the cause of the Colonies, they not only
shared the common suffering, but yielded their full
proportion of active patriots to the struggle. Presi
dents and students alike, made common cause with the
people, and the eloquent voice pleaded, and the strong
arm struck for liberty. Hence our institutions of
learning were peculiarly obnoxious to the British, who
regarded them only as so many hot beds in which
young rebels were reared.
Timothy Dwight was born in Northampton, May
14th, 1752, and hence was only twenty-three when

176 TIMOTHY DWIGHT^
the war broke out. But though young in years, he
possessed a remarkably mature intellect. When a
mere child he learned his alphabet in a single lesson.
He could read the Bible at four years of age, and at
six commenced the study of Latin by himself. En
tering Yale College at the early age of thirteen, he
was thrown into all the temptations of a college life,
and for a time suffered from their influence. The two
first years were very much wasted, and he spent much
time in gambling, though not for money. But the
faithful, kind remonstrances of his friend and tutor,
Stephen Mix Mitchell, who saw with pain the grow
ing waywardness of his gifted pupil, brought him to
serious reflection, and he immediately shook off his
habits of indolence and folly, and commenced a stud
ious, earnest life. Fourteen hours out of the twenty-
four were devoted to his books. This close application
brought on weakness of the eyes, which was increased
afterwards by using them too soon after an attack of
small pox, and from which he suffered great depriva
tion to the end of his life. He was only seventeen
when he graduated. He then became engaged as a
teacher in New Haven, and at the same time continued
his studies. At nineteen he was chosen tutor in the
college. During this year his attention was seriously
turned to the subject of religion, and he soon made a
public profession of his faith, and was admitted to the
communion of the church in the College. His mind
at first had been inclined to the profession of the law,
and his studies were pursued to that end. He however
changed his plans, and without a lengthy preparation

BECOMES CHAPLAIN. 177
for the daties of the profession, offered himself as a
candidate for the ministry, and was licensed in 1777.
He had not however been an indifferent observer of
the struggle going on between the Colonies and the
mother country, but warmly espoused the cause of the
former. Ardent and imaginative, hating wrong, and
loving liberty, he threw himself heart and soul into
the contest. Though chained to his duties in college,
his eloquent tongue was never weary in defending his
country, and in kindling the patriotism of the students.
Hence, when in May, 1777, in consequence of the con
vulsed state of the country, and the danger that
threatened our entire sea coast, the college was dis
banded, he immediately offered his services, as chaplain
to the army. Had his engagements been thus sum
marily dissolved previous to his entering the ministry,
it is impossible to say what his career would have been.
Very probably the same ardent patriotism which made
him volunteer as chaplain would have impelled him to
join the rebel army as a soldier ; and he who afterwards
rose to such eminence in theology, might have formed
one of that brilliant military group that cluster around
the name and memory of Washington — the sharers of
his greatness and his immortality. As he was situated,
however, he felt that he could not take up arms, and
so he did the most patriotic thing in his power — en
rolled himself professionally in the American army.
This course might be expected from the views and
feelings which he entertained. What these were, and
had been for a long time, he has given us in his own
words. He says : " I urged in conversation with sev-

178 TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
eral gentlemen of great respectability, firm. Whigs, and
my intimate friends, the importance, and even the ne
cessity, of a declaration of independence on the part
of the Colonies, and alleged for this measure the very
same arguments which afterwards were generally con
sidered as decisive, but found them disposed to give
me and my arguments a hostile and contemptuous, in
stead of a cordial reception. Yet at this time all the
resentment and enthusiasm, awakened by the odious
measures of Parliament, by the peculiarly obnoxious
conduct of the British agents in this country, and by
the recent battles of Lexington and Breed's Hill, were
at the highest pitch. These gentlemen may be consid
ered as representatives of the great body of thinking
men in this country. A few, perhaps, may be excepted,
but none of these durst at that time openly declare
their opinions to the public. For myself, I regarded
the die as cast, and the hope of reconciliation as van
ished, and believed that the Colonists would never
be able to defend themselves, unless they renounced
their dependence on Great Britain."
The time selected by him for joining the army, Sep
tember 1777, shows his fearless spirit and lofty patriot
ism. The summer had been marked by disasters.
The battles of Brandywine and Germantown had been
followed by the fall of Philadelphia, while the northern
horizon was dark as night with the gathering storm.
Burgoyne was on his victorious march, and in the be
ginning of this month the heads of his menacing col
umns were almost in striking distance of Albany.
Forts Schuyler, Edward, Ticonderoga, those keys of

DESOLATE APPEARANCE. 179
the north, had already fallen, and but one more suc
cessful blow seemed necessary to finish the struggle.
A profound solemnity rested on the nation, for all
knew that, if Clinton from the south formed a junction
with Burgoyne, a cordon of posts would be established
from Canada to New York, and the Eastern and
Middle Colonies be hopelessly separated. All eyes
were turned on that veteran host with its splendid
train of artillery, as, treading down every thing in its
passage, it emerged from the northern wilderness.
Washington rapidly concentrated the eastern troops
around the Highlands, while the farmers from Western
Massachusetts and Vermont left their harvest fields
unreaped, and descended to the greater harvest of men
at Bennington and Saratoga.
While events were thus drawing to a crisis, Dwight
joined the army. Parson's brigade, to which he was
attached, was soon ordered to the Hudson, and placed
under General Putnam. At this time, rumors of pro
jected expeditions by Clinton from New York, and
counter movements on the part of Putnam, and va
rious plans for annoying the enemy, and breaking up
his outlying posts, kept the camp in a state of constant
excitement. Between his duties as chaplain, Dwight
had much leisure time, a part of which he spent in
riding over the deserted and silent country. The
British lines were at Kingsbridge, extending across to
the East Eiver. The Americans were in the region of
Peekskill, touching Long Island Sound at Byram river.
The people between were exposed to the depredations
of both, and Dwight, as he traveled along the deserted

180 TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
roads that intersected this dangerous interval, was
struck with the somber and suspicious character of the
inhabitants. Constantly exposed to marauding par
ties from both armies, and plundered without mercy
at the slightest suspicion of being Tories, by the
Americans, or of being patriots, by the British, they
lived in constant trepidation. Dwight said : " To
every question they gave such an answer as would
please the inquirer, or, if they despaired of pleasing,
such an one as would not provoke him." His heart
was pained at the stone-like apathy into which men
and women had fallen — all animation and feeling had
left their countenances, and a fixed, stolid expression
showed to what a depth of despair they had been
forced by the evils of war. The houses, he said, were
scenes of desolation, and the neglected fields were
" covered with rank growth of weeds and wild grass,"
while the great road leading from Boston to New
York, on which the eye usually met a constant suc
cession of horses and carriages, presented a melancholy,
deserted aspect. " Not a single solitary traveler," he
writes, " was visible from week to week, or from month
to month. The world was motionless and silent, ex
cept when one of those unhappy people ventured upon
a rare and lonely excursion to the house of a neighbor
no less unhappy, or a scouting party traversing the
country in quest of enemies alarmed the inhabitants
with the expectations of new injuries and sufferings.
The very tracks of the carriages were grown over and
obliterated, and where they were discernible resembled

SERMONS TO THE SOLDIERS. 181
the faint impressions of chariot wheels said to be left
on the pavements of Herculaneum."
But notwithstanding these scenes of gloom, so op
pressive and disheartening to the beholder, and the
disastrous news that almost every wind brought from
the commander-in-chief, the faith of the young chap
lain, in the ultimate triumph of his country, never
shook, and his eloquent voice never faltered in uttering
words of encouragement and hope, when preaching
or praying to and with the army. He commonly
spoke extempore, and his sermons were always listened
to with profound attention. His form was finely pro
portioned, stately and majestic, and his eye black and
piercing, while his voice, rich, full and melodious, fell
like the softened strains of a bugle on the ear. When
he gave wings to his brilliant imagination, and passed
beyond the gloom and darkness of the present, and
painted the glories of the future — the country reposing
in peace and independence, the asylum of the op
pressed, and the hope of mankind— he soared into the
highest regions of oratory. He became a great favo
rite in the army, and especially with General Putnam.
At this time, although the Highlands swarmed with
troops, and every effort was made to prevent Sir Henry
Clinton from advancing up the river, and all felt the
vital importance of maintaining this formidable pass,
yet the eye of the nation was fixed on Saratoga. The
first battle of Bemis' Heights had taken place, and
both armies were preparing for a second and final
struggle. At length, on the 7th of October, it came, and not-

182 TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
withstanding the pusillanimity of Gates, was won by
the fiery valor and desperate daring of Arnold. It is
impossible, at this day, to imagine the effect of this
victory on the nation. The terrible load of anxiety
was lifted from its heart, and one long, triumphant
shout rolled over the land.
The effect on Putnam's army was electrical. Forts
Clinton and Montgomery had just fallen, and the
British fleet, breaking through the boom above West
Point, had ascended to Kingston, and burned it to
the ground. The next breeze from the north might
bring the disastrous intelligence of the overthrow of
Gates, and the junction of the British forces. What
lay beyond this catastrophe, no prophet could tell,
and each one held his breath in dread. While the
army at Peekskill was in this state of intense ex
citement, catching eagerly at every rumor that the
tide of the Hudson floated southward, there sud
denly burst along the bosom of the lordly river the
triumphant shout of victory. Glad tears rained from
patriotic eyes, — many hearts were too full of thanks
giving for utterance, from others shouts and huzzas
arose in deafening clamor, while the granite gate
way of the Highlands shook to tro thunder of jubilant
cannon. The news of the surrender reached camp on Satur
day. Next day Dwight preached at head-quarters.
Putnam and his principal officers were present, and
never before did the young chaplain seem so inspired.
His patriotic heart, like that of the meanest soldier,
had been thrown into ecstacy at the glorious tidings,

ELOQUENT SERMON. 183
and it was now too full and too eager for utterance, to
require any preparation. Eising before his attentive,
brilliant auditory, he took for his text, Joel, ii. 20 :
" I will remove far off from you the northern army."
The effect of its enunciation was astonishing, and
seemed like a voice from heaven reminding them of the
promise of deliverance so often uttered by the chaplain.
The whole chapter from which the text was taken
had a peculiar significance. It commences : " Blow
ye the trumpet in Zion, and sound an alarm in my
holy mountain : let all the inhabitants of the land
tremble, for the day of the Lord cometh, for it is nigh
at hand, a day of darkness and gloominess, a day of
clouds and thick darkness, as the morning spread upon
the mountains, a great people and a strong ; there
hath not ever been the like. * * A fire devoureth
before them, and behind them a flame burneth ; the
land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind
them a desolate wilderness." So the verses imme
diately preceding the text had a solemn power in them,
that the most indifferent could not fail to feel : " Let
the priests, the ministers of the Lord, weep between
the porch and the altar, and let them say, Spare thy
people, 0 Lord, and give not thine inheritance to
reproach, that the heathen should rule over them.
Wherefore should they say among the people, Where
is their God ? Then will the Lord be jealous for his
land, and pity his people. Yea, the Lord will answer,
and say unto his people, Behold, I will send you corn,
and wine, and oil, and ye shall bo satisfied therewith :
and I will no more make you a reproach among the

184 TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
heathen, but / will remove far off from you the
northern army. * * * Fear not, 0 Land, be
glad and rejoice, for the Lord will do great things."
The language applied with wonderful force to the
invasion and overthrow of Burgoyne. The "day of
darkness and gloominess, the day of clouds and thick
darkness" had in reality come upon them. Before the
resistless legions of Burgoyne the inhabitants of the
land had fled in terror, and desolation marked their
progress. It was a time for "the ministers of the
Lord to weep between the porch and the altar," and
¦ cry, " Spare thy people, 0 Lord." Their prayer had
been answered, and God had " removed the northern
army" forever, and they could now shout aloud, "Fear
not, 0 land, be glad and rejoice \" The theme was
one peculiarly adapted to Dwight's glowing imagina
tion and enthusiastic patriotism. He painted in vivid
colors the terror and dismay this northern invasion
had spread through the land, described the victory and
exultation of the people, giving God all the glory, and
declared that he saw in it the bright assurance of final
triumph. The officers and soldiers were carried away by his
eloquence, and Putnam was especially delighted, and
did not attempt to conceal his pleasure, but nodded
and smiled in delighted approval throughout the dis
course, though he did not for a moment suppose the.
text was in the Bible, but rather an inference which
Dwight had drawn from the preceding passages. After
service was over, he was loud in his expressions of ad
miration of the sermon and the preacher, but remarked

ANECDOTE OF PUTNAM. 185
"at the same time to some of the officers, that of course
there was no such text in the Bible, and that it was
made up by Dwight for the occasion— still, he said, the
sermon was just as good for all that. The officers
smiled in reply, saying that Dwight had taken no such
liberty with the sacred volume, for the text was really in
it. Putnam, however, stoutly denied it, and refused
to yield the point, till one of them brought a Bible,
and pointed it out to him. He could at first hardly
believe his own eyes, yet there it was, beyond all cavil.
He read it over carefully, and then exclaimed : " Well,
there is every thing in that book, and Dwight knows '
just where to lay his finger on it."
The forest-clad Highlands had put on their most
gorgeous apparel, as if on purpose to celebrate this
great victory, and all the glories of an American au
tumn were spread upon the mountains. The dreary
atmosphere resting like a gentle haze upon the sleep
ing river — wild fowl sweeping in clouds far over head,
seeking the sea — the falling leaf: all disposed the
poetic mind of Dwight to musing, and he spent many
of his leisure hours strolling through the forest and
cedar groves near the encampment. His country ever
lay uppermost in his heart, and the victory at Saratoga
had filled his mind with the brightest anticipations of
her future glory, and he here composed the well-known
ode, commencing : —
" Columbia ! Columbia 1 to glory arise,
Thou queen of the world, and child of the skies."
The last verse beautifully describes the circum-

186 TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
stances connected with its composition, and one fa
miliar with the cedar-clad shores of this region can
easily picture the quiet rambles of the young poet.
He
" Thus, as down a lone valley with cedars o'erspread,
From war's dre&d confusion I pensively strayed,
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired —
The winds ceased to murmur, the thunder expired—
Perfumes as of Eden flowed sweetly along,
And a voice as of angels enchantingly sung:
' Columbia 1 Columbia ! to glory arise,
The queen of the world, and child of the skies.' "
I give below the entire ode;* that it maybe read
* Columbia! Columbia! to glory arise,
The queen of the world, and child of the skies 1
Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold
"While ages on ages tby splendor unfold.
Thy reign is the last and the noblest of time,
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime ;
Let the crimes .of the east ne'er encrimson thy name,
Be freedom, and science, and virtue thy fame.
To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire,
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire;
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend,
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend.
A world is thy realm — for a world be thy laws,
Fnlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause;
On freedom's broad basis that empire shall rise,
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies.
Fair science her gates to thy sons shall unbar,
And the cast see thy morn hide the beams of her star.
New bards and new sages unrivalled shall soar
To fame, unextinguished when time is no more;
To thee, the last refuge of virtue designed,
Shall fly from all nations tho best of mankind ;
Here, grateful to heaven, with transport shall bring
Their incense, more fragrant than odors of spring.

ODE TO COLUMBIA. 187
in the light of these interesting facts. Written only-
one year after the struggle commenced, it exhibits a
wonderful faith in the final triumph of the Colonies,
and its inspiring prophecies read to-day like descrip
tions of past events. The young divine and poet cer
tainly saw farther than most men, and the glowing
future spread out before him in entrancing grandeur
and beaiity.
Mr. Dwight did not content himself with composing
this national ode, but, with Barlow, Trumbull and
others, wrote several patriotic songs, which became
great favorites not only in the army, but throughout
the land. He felt the full force of thef celebrated say-
Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend,
And genius and beauty in harmony blend ;
The graces of form shall awake pure desire,
And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire.
Their sweetness uniningled, their manners refined,
And virtue's bright image enstamped on the mind.
With peace and soft rapture shall teach, life to glow,
And light up a smile in the aspect of woe.
Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display,
The nations admire, and the oceans obey ;
Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold,
And the east and the 60Uth yield their spices and gold.
As tbe day spring unbounded thy splendor shall flow,
And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow,
While the ensigns of union in triumph unfurled,
Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world.
Thus, as down a loijf valley with cedars o'erspread,
From war's dread confusion I pensively strayed —
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired—
The winds ceased to murmur, the thunder expired—
Perfumes as of Eden flowed sweetly along,
And a voice as of angels enchantingly sung:
Columbia! Columbia! to glory arise,
The queen of the world, and child of the skies I

188 TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
ing — " Let me write the songs of a nation, and you
may make its laws." — He was aware that the heart of
the people was moved far more by them than by
harangues, and that they reached every class.
At this time he finished another poem entitled, " The
Conquest of Canaan," and dedicated it to " George
Washington, Esq., commander-in-chief of the Amer
ican armies — the savior of his country — the supporter
of freedom, and the benefactor of mankind."
Unacquainted with Washington personally, he was
averse to apply to him directly for the privilege of
dedicating it to him, and asked General Parsons to be
the medium through which he could make his request
known. The general, proud of his young chaplain,
cheerfully consented.*
* General Parsons to General Washington : —
" Camp West Poist, March 7th, 17TS.
" Dear General — The writer of the letter, herewith transmitted
you, is a chaplain of the brigade under my command. He is a per
son of extensive literature, au amiable private character, and has hap
pily united that virtue and piety, 'which ought ever to form the char
acter of a clergyman, -with the liberal, generous sentiments and agree
able manners of a gentleman.
" The merits of the performance he mentions I am not a competent
judge of ; many gentlemen, of learning and taste for poetical writings,
who have examined it with care and attention, esteem this work in the
class of the best writings of the kind. He will be particularly obliged
by your Excellency's consent that this work should make its publio
appearance under your patronage. * * *
" I am, with great esteem,
" Your Excellency's obedient, humble servant,
" Samuel H. P arsons.
"To Geo. Washington."

DEDICATION TO WASHINGTON. 189
But though such streams of glory irradiated the
departing footsteps of autumn, dark clouds and a
threatening sky heralded the coming on of winter.
The following is the enclosed letter to which he refers : —
"May it please your Excellency :
" The application, which is the subject of this letter, is, I believe
not common in these American regions, yet I can not but hope it will
not on that account be deemed impertinent or presumptuous. For
several years I have been employed in writing a poem on the Conquest
of Canaan by Joshua. This poem, upon the first knowledge of your
Excellency's character, I determined with leave to inscribe to you. If
it will not be too great a favor, it will certainly be remembered with
gratitude. " I am not insensible that the subject of this request is delicate ; as
consent on the part of your Excellency can not possibly add to your
reputation, it may be followed by consequences of a disagreeable na
ture. Of the merit or demerit of t'ae work your Excellency can not
form a guess, but from the charaoter of the writer, with which you
will be made acquainted by General Parsons, who does me the honor
to enclose this in one from himself. All that I can say upon the sub
ject (and I hope I may assert it with propriety) is that I am so inde
pendent a republican, and so honest a man, as to be incapable of a
wish to palm myself upon the world under the patronage of another;
as to be remote from any sinister will in this application, and to dis
dain making the proffer, slight as it be, to the most splendid personage
for whose character I have not a particular esteem.
" I am, with great respect,
" Tour Excellency's most obedient and most humble servant,
"Timothy Dwight, Jr.
•'March 8th, 1118."
To this dignified and manly letter Washington made the following
reply :— "IIead-Quabteks, Valley Foege, 18th March, 1779.
" Dear Sir — I yesterday received your favor of the 8 th inst., ac
companied by so warm a recommendation from General Parsons, that

190 TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
The army under Washington, after committing itself
with solemn religious ceremonies to the God of liberty,
took up its painful, suffering march for Valley Forge.
The same severe winter that wrought such misery and
desolation in that encampment of naked, starving men,
closed round the Highlands with a silent gloom that
made those within its fastnesses forget the joy and
exultation of the autumn that had past.
The recent successful attempt of Clinton to force
the Highlands, and the narrow escape the Colonies
had made, showed the imperative necessity of taking
more efficient measures to fortify them. Engineers
were therefore dispatched to select a site for a fortifi
cation less assailable than Forts Clinton and Mont
gomery had proved to be, and West Point was finally
chosen as possessing the greatest natural advantages.
The Hudson being locked by ice in winter, it was im
possible for the British vessels below to annoy the
workmen at that season, and so, notwithstanding the
intensity of the cold, and the frozen state of the
ground, it was resolved to commence the works at
I can not but form favorable presages of the merit of the work you
propose to honor me with the dedication of. Nothing can give me
more pleasuro than to patronize the essays of genius, and a laudable
cultivation of the arts and sciences, which had begun to flourish in so
eminent u degree before the hand of oppression was stretched over
our devoted country ; and I shall esteem myself happy if a poem,
which has employed the labor of years, will derive any advantage, or
bear more weight in the world, by making its appearance under a
dedication to me. " I am, very respectfully, your, etc.
"G. Washington.

SUFFEBINOS AT WEST POINT. 191
once. General Parsons, therefore, in the latter part of
January, though the snow was two feet deep on the
level, started with his brigade for the scene of opera
tions. While the unpaid, naked, and starving soldiers
were crouching and shivering in their miserable huts
at Valley Forge, Parsons' troops, almost as poorly
sheltered, were toiling in the snow, under the gigantic
precipices of the Highlands. And as the chaplains
shared the privations and sufferings of the former in
their gloomy encampment, so did Dwight cheer by his
presence and words of encouragement the latter in
their painful, exhausting labor. Though half fed,
half clothed, and not half paid, the men worked with
such vigor and determination that soon formidable
defences appeared on the banks ; and by the time navi
gation should be opened, it was evident that an effect
ual barrier would be placed to the enemy's ships. The
sufferings of the troops during this winter in the region
of the Highlands may be partially imagined from the
following statement of Putnam. After remarking
that part of Meigs' regiment was down with the small
pox, he says : "Dubois' regiment is unfit to be ordered
on duty, there being not one blanket in the regiment.
Very few have either a shoe or a shirt, and most of
them have neither stockings, breeches, nor overalls.
Several companies of enlisted artificers are in the
same situation, and unable to work in the field. Sev
eral hundred men are rendered useless merely for
want of necessary apparel, as no clothing is permitted
to be stopped at this post."
To such soldiers Dwight had to preach words of

192 TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
comfort, and utter promises of God's blessing on their
labors. From the depths of such a night he had to
promise a bright and glorious morning. He never
desponded, and though moved by the suffering ho
could not alleviate, felt a serene confidence in ultimate
success. The faith of the clergy amid all the vicissi
tudes of fortune seemed at times almost presumptuous,
but in the hour of deepest discouragement, when to
human eye there seemed no way of deliverance, they
pledged without hesitation the strength of Israel's God
to the cause. Though circumstances were at times so
disheartening that they seemed to ask in mockery,
" Where now is thy God ?" these men unhesitatingly,
confidently replied : " Our God is in the heavens, and
will assuredly in his own good time make bare his arm
for our deliverance."
At length the long and dreary winter melted away
into spring, the ice slowly yielded to the sun and rain,
and soon the river, which for so long a time had pre
sented a white and silent surface, was turbulent with
the heaving, grinding masses that came driving down
on the tide. Dwight lodged a part of the time with
Parsons, and a part of the time with Putnam, in the
house of Beverly Johnson, which was afterwards oc
cupied by Arnold.
The following little episode in the duties of his
office exhibit his keen appreciation of natural scen
ery, and at the same time presents a graphic picture
of the country surrounding West Point in early
spring. One Sunday, in the middle of March, after
having performed religious services, he found his quar-

SIT GAB LOAF MOUNTAIN. 193
ters such a scene of confusion from the constant ar
rival of officers and others, who came to report or
receive orders, that to escape it, he, with Major Hum
phrey, resolved to ascend Sugar Loaf Mountain. This
was a laborious and difficult task, for the sides of tho
mountain were not only very steep, but covered with
huge boulders and fragments of rock, that gave way
to the foot as they struggled upward. At length,
however, the dreary top was reached, and a strangely
wild and sublime scene lay spread out before them.
Around them, in awe-inspiring proximity, arose the
naked, savage forms of the group of mountains that
compose the Highlands, completely locking them in,
except at the north where stretched away the turbulent
Hudson. The landscape was grand and desolate, with
not a single cheerful object to relieve its savage aspect.
" Every thing," he said, " which we beheld was ma
jestic, solemn, wild, and melancholy. The grandeur
of the scene defies description." West Point, dotted
with white tents, lay beneath the barren mountains,
which stood like sentinels around them, while far as the
eye could reach, northward, moved vast fields of float
ing ice, now crashing against the shore, sending deep
muffled groans up the far heights, or echoing in sullen
thunder through the gorges. At intervals came loud
explosions, caused by the rending masses, and sounding
like distant cannon. " Cottages were thinly sprinkled
over the mountainous regions in the east, in size re
sembling a dove cage, surrounded by little fields cov
ered with snow, and spotting with white the vast ex
pansion of the forest with which the mountains are
9

194 TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
overspread. Each seemed of itself to have dropped
from the clouds, in places to which the rest of the
world would never have access, and out of which they
would never find a way into the world. It is difficult
to conceive of any thing more solemn or more wild than
the appearance of these mountains. An immense
forest covered them to their summits. Its color was a
deep brown — its aspect that of a universal death.
The sun had far declined in the west, clouds of a sin
gular, misty appearance overcast his splendor, and ar
raying his face with a melancholy sadness, imparted a
kind of funereal aspect to every object." Mill streams,
swollen with melted snows, roar like the ocean, min
gled in with the sound of crashing ice below. Far
away to the southward were the ruins of Fort Mont
gomery, where " more than one hundred of our coun
trymen became victims, a few months since, to the
unprincipled claims of avarice and ambition. These,
and countless millions more, will at the final judgment
rise up as terrible witnesses against the pride, rapacity,
and cruelty of those who have been the ultimate
cause of their destruction." There, too, was West
Point, where " the same scenes of slaughter may not
improbably be soon enacted over again."
" The day was warm and spring-like. The campaign
was about to open, a. campaign in which a thousand
unnecessary miseries will be suffered. Parents will be
made childless, wives will be made widows, and chil
dren will be made orphans. Many a house, where
peace, cheerfulness, and delight would love to dwell,

THE DNBUEIED DEAD. 195
will probably be reduced to ashes, and many a family
to want and despair."
" The ruins of Fort Montgomery," which he de
scribes as arresting his attention, were soon after vis
ited by some officers, and he accompanied them.
Floating leisurely down the river, they moored their
boats beneath the ruins, and began their explorations.
" The first thing," says Dwight, " that met our eyes,
after we left our barge, was the remains of a fire kin
dled by the cottagers of this solitude, for the purpose
of consuming the bones of some of the Americans who
had fallen at this place, and had been left unburied.
Some of these bones were lying partially consumed
round the spot where the fire had been kindled, and
some had evidently been converted into ashes. As we
went onward, we were distressed by the foe tor of de
cayed human bodies. To me this was a novelty, and
more overwhelming and dispiriting than I am able to
describe. As we were attempting to discover the
source from which it proceeded, we found at a small
distance from the fort a pond of moderate size, in
which we saw the bodies of several men who had been
killed in the assault upon the fort. They were thrown
into this pond the preceding autumn by the British,
when probably the water was sufficiently deep to cover
them. Some of them were covered at this time, but
at a depth so small as to leave them distinctly visible.
Others had an arm, a leg, and a part of the body
above the surface. The clothes they wore when they
were killed were still on them, and proved that they
were militia, being the ordinary dress of farmers.

196 TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
Their faces were bloated and monstrous, and their
postures were uncouth and distorted, and in the high
est degree afflictive. My companions had been accus
tomed to the horrors of war, and sustained the pros
pect with some degree of firmness. To me, a novice
in scenes of this nature, it was overwhelming. I sur
veyed it a moment, and hastened away. From this
combination of painful objects we proceeded to Fort
Clinton, built on a rising ground, a little farther down
the river. The ruins of the fortress were a mere coun
terpart of those of Fort Montgomery. Every thing
which remained was a melancholy piece of destruction.
We went from this to find the grave of Count Gra-
bourkil, a Polish nobleman, who was killed in the as
sault. The grave was pointed out by Col. Livingston,
who saw him fall."
With the advance of spring, formidable prepara
tions for the summer campaign were set on foot, to
which, on the last of April, a mighty impetus was
given by the arrival of the news, that France had
joined our cause, and declared war with England.
The battle of Saratoga had fixed her wavering policy,
and now not only ships and men, but money and cloth
ing were promised. Universal confidence was restored,
and strong aggressive movements against the enemy
were planned in every part of the Colonies.
In the meantime a sad calamity overtook the family
of Dwight, which changed all his plans. The year
before, his father, with two of his sons, went to the
southwestern part of Mississippi, to provide for a per
manent settlement on a tract of land which he and his

LEAVS.S THE AE'MY. 197
brother-in-law, General Lyman, had received as a
grant from the crown. While carrying out his plans,
he was taken sick at Natchez, and died during the
winter that his son Timothy was serving as chaplain
in the Highlands. Owing to the unsettled state of
the country, and uncertain modes of communication
with that then remote portion of the country, the latter
did not receive the news of his father's death for several
months. The support and comfort of his widowed
mother. seemed now to him his first duty, and he im
mediately resigned his office as chaplain, and went to
Northampton where she resided, and for the next five
years devoted himself to her welfare. The history of
his after career does not come within the design of this
sketch. From 1778' to 1781 he supplied successively
vacant congregations in Westfield, Muddy Brook,
Deerfield, and South Hadley. In November of the
latter year he preached an eloquent sermon on the
capture of Cornwallis. At this time he was prevailed
on to give his services to his country temporarily in
political life, and represented Northampton in 1781-2
in the General Court of Massachusetts. In 1783 he
was settled over the church in Greenfield, Conn. In
1785 he published a poem in eleven books, entitled
"The Conquest of Canaan." Besides this he pub
lished two other poems, called " The Triumph of Infi
delity," and "Greenfield Hill." In 1795 he was
elected president of Yale College. From this time he
became one of the acknowledged theological leaders in
this country, and his works were well known in Europe.
Partaking of the prejudices of New England, he was

198 TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
bitterly opposed to the war of 1812, and imbibing the
same erroneous views that characterized the old fed
eralists respecting the struggle of Eevolutionary France
and the character of Napoleon, he opposed both with
a warmth, one might say bitterness, of spirit that al
ways accompanies views founded on prejudice, and not
on fact. His fame as a theologian, his eloquence as a
preacher, his success as president of Yale College, and
his excellence as a man and Christian are known
throughout the land. A devoted patriot and faithful
preacher, his brilliant talents and best feelings were
given to his country and his God, and he rested from
his labors in 1816, at the age of sixty-four.

CHAPTER XVIII.
NAPHTALI DAGGET.
Professor of Divinity in Tale College. — The College broken ur. — Inva
sion of Tryon. — Terror of the Inhabitants. — A Company of a Hundred
Young Men raised to resist him. — Dr. Dagget and his black Mare. —
Advances alone to reconnoiter. — The Fight. — The Retreat. — Dr. Dag
get refuses to run. — Interview with the British Officer. — Forced to
guide the Column. — Brutal Treatment. — Rescued by a Tory.— His Sick
ness. — Death.
Naphthali Dagget, D.D., professor of divinity,
and for a time President of Yale College, was another
distinguished clergyman, who was as illustrious for
his patriotism as for his theological learning. He in
structed the students in the duty of resistance to Great
Britain as earnestly as he did in that of obedience to
God ; indeed, he regarded them as one and the same
duty. In 1779, the college had recovered from the panic
that had scattered the students into various towns in
the interior, and was in a prosperous condition. But,
in the midst of its tranquillity, a rumor reached New
Haven that General Tryon was preparing to make a
descent upon it. The place was immediately thrown
into great alarm, and a meeting was called to deliber
ate on what was to be done. Counsels were various
as to the best course to pursue, but Dr. Dagget
declared that whatever else was determined upon,
one thing was clear, the citizens must fight.

200 NAPHTHALI DAGGET.
At length the dreaded calamity came, and swift
riders galloped into town, bringing the startling news
that the British, twenty-five hundred strong, had
landed about five miles distant at West Haven. At
once all was confusion and terror. The college was
hurriedly broken up, and, as all regarded it useless to
attempt to resist so large a body of regular troops, it
was determined that early in the morning the inhabit
ants and students should take their flight into the in
terior, and leave the place to the mercy of the ma
rauders. To give the former as much time as possible
to remove their goods, a volunteer company of a hun
dred young men was formed, to retard the march of
the British, by beating back their advance guards.
Accordingly they assembled on the green, with such
arms as they could lay their hands on, and paraded in
front of the deserted college. The streets were filled
with the terrified fugitives, as in wagons, on horse
back, and on foot, they streamed towards the country.
It was a scene of wild confusion, and contrasted
strangely with that courageous little detachment pre
paring to go forth against such an overwhelming
force. At length every thing being ready, drum and fife
struck up a lively strain, and taking up its line of march,
the band passed out of the city. It had not proceeded
far, when the clatter of horse's hoofs was heard along
the road, and the next moment the reverend professor
of divinity galloped up on his old black mare, with a
long fowling-piece in his hand. He had not contented
himself with giving good patriotic advice, but had re-

THE BATTLE. 201
solved to set an example. To their surprise, however,
he did not stop to join them, but pushed straight on
towards the enemy. The little band gave Jiim a loud
cheer as he passed, but the old man never turned to
the right or left, but dashed resolutely onward, and,
ascending a hill, halted in a grove, and commenced
reconnoitering the enemy.
The detachment, turning a little to the south, swept
round the base of the hill, and kept on till they came
in sight of the advance guard of the British ; when,
throwing themselves behind a fence, they poured in a
destructive volley. The guard halted, and returned
the fire. But as volley succeeded volley, each more
deadly than the last, they turned and fled. The young
volunteers then broke cover, and leaping the fence,
pursued them, firing and shouting as they went.
Driving them from fence to fence, and across field
after field, they kept courageously on, till they sud
denly found themselves face to face with the whole
hostile army. As far as the eye could reach on either
side, the green fields were red with scarlet uniforms — ¦
the extended wings ready, at the word of command, to
enfold them, and cut off every avenue of escape. Sud
denly halting, and taking in the full extent of their
danger, they without waiting for orders, turned, and
ran for their lives.
As they fled along the base of the hill, on the top
of which Dr. Dagget had taken his station, they saw
the venerable man quietly watching the advancing
enemy. As the noise and confusion of the flying de
tachment reached his ears he turned a quiet glance
9*

202 NAPHTHALI DAGGET.
below, then leveling his fowling-piece at the foe, blazed
away. As the British pressed after the fugitives, they
were surprised at the solitary report of a gun every
few minutes from the grove of trees on that hill. At
first they paid but little attention to it, but the bul
lets finding their way steadily into the ranks, they
were compelled to notice it, and an officer sent a de
tachment up to see what it meant. The professol
saw them coming, but never moved from his position.
His black mare stood near him, and he could any mo
ment have mounted and fled, but this seemed never to
have entered his head. He was thinking only of the
enemy, and loaded and fired as fast as he could.
When the detachment reached the spot where he
stood, the commanding officer, to his surprise, saw
only a venerable man in black before him, quietly
loading his gun to have another shot. Pausing a mo
ment at the extraordinary spectacle of a single man thus
coolly fighting a whole army, he exclaimed, " What
are you doing there, you old fool, firing on His Majes
ty's troops ?" The staunch old patriot looked up in
the most unconcerned manner, and replied, " Exercis
ing the rights of war." The whole affair seemed to
strike, the officer comically ; and, rather amused than
offended at the audacity of the proceeding, he said,
"If I let you go this time, you old rascal, will you
ever fire again on the troops of His Majesty ?" "No
thing more likely," was the imperturbable reply. This
was too much for the good temper of the Briton, and
he ordered his men to seize him. They did so ; and

BRUTAL TBEATMENT. 203
dragged him roughly down the hill to the head of the
column. The Americans, in their retreat, had torn down the
bridge over the river, after crossing it, thus compelling
the British to march two miles farther north to an
other bridge. The latter immediately .placed Dr.
Dagget, on foot, at the head of the column as a guide,
and pressed rapidly forward.
It was the 5th of July, and one of the hottest days
of the year. Under the burning rays of the noonday
sun, and the driving pace they were kept at, even the
hardened soldiers wilted ; while Dr. Dagget, unused
to such exposure, soon became completely exhausted.
But the moment he showed signs of faltering, the
soldiers pricked him on with their bayonets, at the
same time showering curses and insults upon his
head. Before the five miles' march was completed,
the brave old man was ready to sink to the earth.
But every time he paused and reeled as if about
to fall, they caught him on the points of their bay
onets, and forced him to rally, while the blood flowed
in streams down his dress. As they entered the
streets of the town, they commenced shooting down
the peaceable citizens who had remained behind,
whenever they appeared in sight, and Dr. Dagget
expected every moment to share their fate. At length
they reached the green, when a tory, who had come
out to welcome the enemy, recognised Dr. Dagget,
as he lay covered with blood and dust, and requested
the officer to release him. He did so, and the wounded

204 NAPHTHALI DAGGET.
patriot was carried into a house near by, more dead
than alive.
His utter exhaustion and brutal wounds combined
brought him to the very gates of death, and his life for
some time was despaired of. He however rallied, and
was able a part of the next year to preach in the
chapel, but his constitution had received a shock
from which it could not fully recover, and in sixteen
months he was borne to the grave, one more added to
the list pf noble souls who felt that the offer of their
lives to their country was a small sacrifice.

CHAPTER XIX.
EZRA STILES.
Uis Prophecy respecting the Colonies, in 1760. — President of Tale Col
lege. — Chancellor Kent's Eulogy of him. — His Patriotism. — Keeps a
Diary of Revolutionary Events. — His Death.
Ezra Stiles, who succeeded Dr. Dagget as President
of Yale College, forms a third in the illustrious trio of
patriotic Presidents that Yale can boast. His far-
reaching mind as early as 1760 seemed to foresee the
struggle which would eventually take place between
the colonies and England. In a sermon delivered at
that time on the reduction of Canada by the English
he used the following language : " It is probable that
in time there will be formed a provincial Confederacy,
and a Common Council standing on free provincial
suffrage, and this may in time terminate in an Imperial
Diet, when the imperial dominion will subvert as it
ought in election." He lived to see this prophecy ful
filled in the Continental Congress. The late Chan
cellor Kent, one of his pupils, thus speaks of his
patriotism : " President Stiles' zeal for civil and re
ligious liberty was kindled at the altar of the English
and New England Puritans, and it was animating and
vivid. A more constant and devoted friend to the rev
olution and independence of the country never existed.
He had anticipated it as early as 1760, and his whole

206 EZRA STILES.
soul was enlisted in every measure which led on
gradually to the formation and establishment of the
American Union. The frequent appeals which he was
accustomed to make to the heads and hearts of his
pupils concerning the slippery paths of youth, the
grave duties of life, the responsibilities of men, and the
perils and hopes and honors and destiny of our country,
will never be forgotten by those who heard them, and
especially when he came to touch, as he often did with
a master's hand and prophet's fire, on the bright vision
of the future prosperity and splendor of the United
States." Ezra Stiles was born at North Haven, Con
necticut, December 10th, 1727, and died in 1795, and
hence had nearly reached his threescore and ten. He
kept a voluminous diary during the Revolution, which
is still preserved in manuscript in the library of Yal%
College, and contains many useful and interesting facts
connected with those times.

CHAPTER XX.
JOEL BARLOW.
Ills Birth and Early Education. — A Friend of DwionT. — nis Poem, "The
Prospect of Peace." — Joins the Army in Vacations.— Beoomes Chaplain. —
Writes Patriotic Ballads. — "Hymns for Yankee Rebels." — The Burning:
of Cuarlestown."— Occupation in the Army. — Friend of Washington. —
Sermon on Arnold's Treason. — Becomes Lawyer and Editor at Hartford,
Connecticut. — Revises Wait's Psalms and Hymns. — Aoent of Scioto Land
Company. — Visits England, France. — Becomes enlisted in the French
Revolution. — His Occupations in Europe. — Consul at Algiers. — Makes a
Fortune in France. — Returns to America. — Remarkable Prophecies in his
Columbiad. — Minister to France. — His Death. — Charge of Religious
Apostacy. Mr. Barlow occupied so prominent a place before
the public after the Eevolution that but little has been
written of his career as a patriot. Indeed, there is a
great dearth of details respecting his early life in the
army, for his own papers are silent on the subject. He
was the youngest son of ten children, and was born in
Eeading, Connecticut, in 1755. He entered Dartmouth
College in 1774, but before he finished his course re
moved to Yale, where he became acquainted with
Dwight, who was tutor there, and a warm friendship
sprung up between the two young patriots and poets.
Entering with all the ardor of a youthful and impul
sive nature into the revolutionary struggle, he spent
his vacations in the army, fighting in the ranks like a
common soldier. At Whiteplains he distinguished
himself by his bravery. Ho graduated in 1778, and

208 JOEL BARLOW.
on commencement day delivered a poem, entitled
" The Prospect of Peace," which was published. His
early poems breathe the spirit of true patriotism, and
exhibit an unbounded faith in the triumph of liberty,
not only in this country but throughout the world. Of
America he sang :
" On this broad theatre unbounded spread
In different scenes what countless throngs must tread,
Soon on the new formed empire rising fair,
Calms her brave sons now breathing from the war,
Unfolds her harbors, spreads the genial soil,
And welcomes freemen to the cheerful toil."
After he left college Barlow commenced the study
of law ; but the Massachusetts line being in great need
of chaplains, he abandoned it for theology, and after
six weeks' study was licensed to preach, and entered
the army as chaplain. At the outset he and Dwight
and Trumbull and Humphreys and others frequently
wrote patriotic songs for the soldiers and people, which
were sung everywhere, and had a powerful effect in ani
mating the spirits of both. Barlow had great faith in
popular ballads ; and when he entered the army, said,
" I do not know whether I shall do more for the cause
in the capacity of chaplain than I could in that of poet.
I have great faith in the influence of songs, and I shall
continue while fulfilling the duties of my appointment
to write one now and then to encourage the taste of
them which I find in the camp. One good song is worth
a dozen addresses or proclamations." He carried out
his resolution, and during the intervals of his arduous

BEVOLUTIONABY BALLADS. 209
campaigns and on the fatiguing march composed many
a stirring ode, which cheered and animated the soldiers.
Writing not for fame, but to kindle patriotic feeling,
he took no pains to let their authorship be known, and
hence the most of his revolutionary ballads have passed
into oblivion, or exist as anonymous effusions. Those
written by New England patriots were stigmatized as
"psalms and hymns adapted to the taste of Yankee
rebels." Among these we find one written by Barlow,
entitled
THE BURNING OF CHARLESTOWST.
After enlarging on the atrocity of the act at some
length, he closes with the following prophetic de
nunciation : —
" Nor shall the blood of heroes, on the plain,
Who fell that day in freedom's cause,
Lie unrevenged, though with thy thousands slain,
Whilst there's a king who fears nor minds thy laws.
Shall Gain, who madly spilt his brother's blood
Receive such curses from the God of all ?
Is not that Sovereign still as just and good
To hear the cries of children when they call 1
Tes, there's a God, whose laws are still the same,
Whose years are endless, and whose power is great :
He is our God : Jehovah is his name :
With him we trust car sore oppressed State.
When He shall rise, (Oh! Britain, dread the day,
Nor can I stretch the period of thy fate ;)
What heart of steel, what tyrant then shall sway
A throne that's sinking by oppression's weight

210 JOEL BARLOW.
Thy crimes, Oh North, shall then like specters stand,
Nor Gharlestovm hindmost in the ghastly roll,
And faithless Gage, who gave the dread command,
ShaU find dire torments gnaw upon his soul.
Yea, in this world we trust those ills so dread,
That fill the nation with such matchless woes,
Shall fall with doublerengeance on thy head,
Nor 'scape those minions which thy court compose.1'
Barlow's whole soul was so enlisted in the struggle
that he seemed to have lost sight of his individual
prospects, in the future of his country. Although
serving as chaplain in the army, he evidently had no
design of following the clerical profession for life. He
pursued it from a sense of duty in the existing emer
gencies — as the best way he could serve the cause of
liberty. Had he remained a clergyman after the close
of the war, the personal incidents connected with his
career as chaplain would doubtless have been preserved
with greater care, but his subsequent public life ran in
such an entirely opposite channel, with which these
seemed to have no connection, that they were mostly
overlooked, and the papers containing them perhaps
destroyed by himself.
Only now and then we get glimpses of him — always
at his post— always confident and courageous, and
endeavoring to infuse his spirit into others. We see
the young poet and preacher looking sadly but approv
ingly on the execution of Andre, and as the body of
the brave, but ill-fated officer, swings in mid-air, say
ing to those around him, it is heaven's own justice.
Soon after he preached at West Point a sermon on the

PREACHES AGAINST TREASON. 211
treason of Arnold, in which the vengeance of God was
proclaimed against all those who dared to lift a trait
orous hand against their oppressed country. The
exalted, fearless patriotic spirit of the chaplain won
the heart of Washington, and he invited him to dinner,
placing him on his right hand, while Stirling occu
pied the left. On another occasion we find him on the
anniversary of the battle of Saratoga reciting an ode
of his own composition with great eclat, and giving a
patriotic toast. Barlow's time, however, during the
war was not wholly occupied in the discharge of his
duties as chaplain, nor in composing patriotic songs for
the camp and field. He also completed the plan of an
elaborate poem, entitled " The Vision of Columbus,"
though it was not published till 1787.
At the close of the war he laid aside his clerical
profession, and returned to the study of the law, set
tling at Hartford, Conn. At the same time he edited
a weekly newspaper, called " The American Mercury."
He was admitted to tho bar in 1785, and the same year
was employed by the "General Association of Con
necticut " to correct and prepare Watt's Psalms for the
use of the churches under its charge. The work was
satisfactorily performed, and adopted in all the church
es. Dwight's collection subsequently took its place.
"The Babylonian captivity," (version of the one
hundred and thirty-eigthth Psalm, so much admired),
was one of these, beginning :
" Along the banks where Babel's current flows,
Our captive bands in deep despondence strayed ;
While Zion's fall in sad remembrance rose
Her friends, her children, mingled with the dead."

212 JOEL BARLOW.
The profession of the law, however, did not suit the
bent of his mind, and in 1788 he accepted the agency
of the " Scioto Land Company," and went to England
to dispose of the property. But while engaged in
negotiations he discovered that the title to the land
was stolen, and the company a pack of swindlers, and
he resigned his position. Having now nothing to
occupy him, his attention was naturally directed to
France, at that time fully launched on the sea of rev
olution, and he crossed over to Paris. His sympathies
immediately became deeply enlisted for the noble Gi-
rondins, and his love of hberty being as extensive as
the human race, his whole soul was absorbed in this
great, yet wild struggle of man for his rights. Return
ing to England in 1791, he published the first part of
his "Advice to the Privileged Orders," and in the
February following, a poem on " The Conspiracy of
Kings," or the unholy alliance against France. Both
of these productions are written in the vigorous style
and bold, daring spirit which characterized him. The
same year he translated Volney's " Ruins and Reflec
tions on the Revolutions of Empires," which was
published in London. The next year he was dele
gated by the " Constitutional Society " in England,
of which he was a member, to carry an address to
the French Convention, to which he had already
written a letter. For the performance of this duty
the honor of French citizenship was conferred upon
him. Soon after the execution of Louis XVI. he
wrote the following ode, a parody on " God save the
King."

HIS DEATH. 213
Earne, let thy trumpet sound,
Tell all the world around —
How Capet fell;
And when great George's poll
Shall in the basket roll.
Let mercy then control
The Guillotine.
Whe»» Jl the sceptered crew
Have paid their homage to
The Guillotine ;
Let freedom's'flag advance,
Till all the world like Prance
O'er tyrant's grave shall dance,
And peace begin."
The next year he was made one of a deputation sent
to organize the territory of Savoy. While here he
addressed a letter " to the people of Piedmont on the
advantages of the French revolution, and the necessity
of adopting its principles in Italy." At the same
time he wrote a poem, entitled "The Hasty Pudding,"
with a dedicatory letter to Mrs. Washington. His
brain seemed to be in a state of fusion, throwing off
letters, addresses, poems, with astonishing rapidity,
while outward occupation was as necessary to him as
air. In 1795 he was appointed legal and commercial
agent to the north of Europe, but was soon transferred
to a field more congenial to his tastes. Washington
appointed him consul to Algiers, to negotiate a treaty
with the Barbary States, which he successfully execu
ted, exhibiting all the daring and energy of his nature
in behalf of the American prisoners there. Returning
to Paris he made a fortune in some commercial specu
lations, and purchased the hotel of the Count Cler-

214 JOEL BARLOW.
mont de Tonnerre, in which he lived in the style of a
prince. In 1805 he returned to America and built a
fine mansion in the District of Columbia, which he
called " Kalorama."
Two years after his great work, the Columbiad,
appeared, dedicated to Fulton. In this poem, which
is an enlargement of the vision of Columbus, occur
some of the most remarkable prophecies or anticipa
tions found in uninspired writings. As an example,
take the following prediction of the construction of
the Erie canal :
" From fair Albania, tow'rd the falling sun,
Back thro' the midland, lengthening channels run,
Meet the. far lakes, their beauteous towns that lave,
And Hudson join to broad Ohio's wave."
This extraordinary description of the great internal
work of New York State was written in 1787, when
almost the entire country west of Albany to Niagara
was an unbroken wilderness. American literature
furnishes no parallel to this. Still more remarkable is
the following prophecy of telegraphic communication:
" Ah, speed thy labors, sage of unknown name,
Rise into light and seize thy promised fame ;
For thee the chemic powers their bounds expand.
The imprisoned lightning wails thy guardian hand,
Unnumbered messages in viewless flight
Shall bear thy mandates with tho speed of light"
To one who read these productions in the beginning
of this century they must have appeared the incoher
ent utterances of a diseased imagination, and the last
one been pronounced unintelligible nonsense — now

MINISTER TO FRANCE. 215
they are accurate descriptions of accomplished events.
If the name of Erie canal had been inserted in the
former, and that of Morse in the latter they would
scarcely have been more definite and complete. In
language almost as clear and emphatic he foretells
Wilkes' discovery of a southern continent.
Always planning some new work the moment one
was finished, Barlow now meditated a history of the
United States, but was cut short in his labors by being
appointed minister to France under Monroe. In Oc
tober, 1812, when Bonaparte was returning from his
disastrous Russian campaign, he received an invitation
to meet him at Wilna, and immediately set off in
great haste. The fatigues and exposure of this jour
ney brought on inflamation of lungs, and on his return
to Paris he died, December 22d, at Zarnawicka, a
little village near Cracow. While lying sick here he
dictated, at midnight, a poem to his Secretary, enti
tled, " Advice to a raven in Russia," a bitter denun
ciation of Bonaparte.
Charges were made against Barlow that he became
an infidel, though they were never proved. They arose
from several causes. In the first place, Barlow foresaw
the changes in religious tolerance and theological teach
ings which have since taken place in New England
almost as clearly as he did those in material improve
ments. In uttering or intimating these he would in
evitably be accused of infidelity, just as he was of
incoherent raving in predicting the latter. He was too
far in advance of his age to be tolerated by it.
In the second place, no man could be transplanted

216 JOEL BARLOW.
from the heart of Puritan New England into the midst
of the moral, social and religious chaos of the French
Revolution without having his views on many pointj
materially modified. But Franco was infidel, and
henco all changes effected by a sojourn on her soil were
set down at once as the result of infidelity. An argu
ment short but incontrovertible to the Puritan mind
at that time.
In the third place, his adoption of some scientific
phrases and words used by the neologists was equally
convincing proof.
In the fourth place, he was a friend of the French
Revolution, which the Federalists of New England
considered second only in atrocity and wickedness to
the apostacy of the angels.
In the last place, and chiefly, he was a bitter anti-
federalist — a thorough, earnest Jeffersonian. This,
though not infidelity itself, was its natural product,
and as "by their fruits ye shall know them" is sound
doctrine, the conclusion that Barlow was a skeptic was
a logical conclusion. That his views underwent great
changes is evident — it could not be otherwise ; but we
have nowhere seen the charge of having apostatized
from the faith of his fathers sustained by proof suffi
cient even to justify its being made.

CHAPTER XXI.
JAMES CALDWELL.
His Birth and Ancestry. — Personal Appearance. — Power of his Voice. — His
Character. — His Congregation at Elizabetutown. — Made Chaplain. — Hdj
Toast on the Reception of the Declaration of Independence. — His Ac
tivity. — Rewards offered for his Capture. — Removes to Connecticut
Farms. — Goes Armed. — His Services. — Letter to Lee. — Assistant Commis
sary General. — Last Interview wiTn his Wife. — Her Murder. — Fight at
Springfield. — "Give em Watts." — Murder of Caldwell. — Ills Funeral. —
His Children. — Monument to niM.
No man is more deserving of a prominent place in
the history of the Eevolution than Eev. James Cald
well. He was born in a settlement of Charlotte
county, Virginia, called "Cub Creek," and was the
youngest of seven children. He graduated at Prince
ton College in 1759, was licensed to preach in 1760,
and the next year receiving ordination was settled over
the parish of Elizabethtown, New Jersey. His ances
tors were Huegenots, who were driven from France to
England by religious persecution, from thence to Scot
land, and at last to Ireland, from which his father emi
grated to this country. He thus inherited a spirit of
independence and of resistance to tyranny which made
him from the outset of our troubles enlist heart and
soul in the cause of American independence. Though
of middle height, he was powerfully made and capable
of great endurance. His countenance in repose had a
tranquil and somewhat pensive expression, but when
10

218 JAMES CALDWELL.
roused with heroic daring there was stamped on every
lineament the most dauntless, unconquerable resolu
tion. His voice exhibited the same striking contrasts.
On ordinary occasions it was low, sweet and musical,
captivating the hearer by its winning tones ; but when
he stood in front of a regiment, haranguing the soldiers,
it rose clear and distinct over the roll of the drum and
piercing notes of the fife. Of refined feelings, warm
and generous sympathies, and possessing true genius,
he won all hearts, and fastened himself so deeply in
the affections of his people that to this day his memory
is tenderly cherished among the inhabitants of Eliza-
bethtown. In the exciting scenes that immediately preceded the
Eevolution he bore a prominent and leading part.
His congregation upheld him almost to a man, and
when we remember that such patriots as Elias Boudi-
not, William Livingston, Francis Barber, the Daytons
and Ogdens composed it, we can not wonder that both
pastor and people were looked upon as head rebels of
the province, and became peculiarly obnoxious to the
loyalists. In intelligence, valor and patriotism, they
had no superiors, and formed a band of noble men, of
which New Jersey is justly proud.
At the first call to arms the State offered its brigade
for the common defence, and Mr. Caldwell was elected
its chaplain — Col. Dayton, his parishioner, being the
commander. Col. Ebenezer Elmer, commanding one
of the regiments, gives the following account of the
manner the declaration of independence was received
by the brigade. The courier bearing the news arrived

PATRIOTIC TOAST. 219
at head quarters on the 15th of July, 1776, causing
the most intense excitement and enthusiasm. " At
twelve o'clock," says the Colonel, " assembly was beat
that the men might parade in order to receive a treat,
and drink the State's health. When having made a
barrel of grog, the declaration was read, and the fol
lowing toast was given by parson Caldwell : — ' Har
mony, honor, and all prosperity to the free and inde
pendent United States of America : wise legislators,
brave and victorious armies, both by sea and land, to
the United States of America.' When three hearty
cheers were given, and the grog flew round a-main."
Mr. Caldwell's activity and energy would not allow him
to confine himself to the duties of chaplain. The
timid were to be encouraged, the hesitating brought
over to the side of liberty, and the tories met and baf
fled at every point. Hence, he would be on the Sab
bath with his parish, the next day in the army, and
then traversing the country to collect important infor
mation, or set on foot measures to advance the common
cause. His immense popularity gave him an influence
that filled the tories with rage, and made his name
common as a household word among the British troops.
He at length became such an object of hate and dread
that large rewards were offered for his capture. Con
sequently, when the enemy obtained possession of New
York and Staten Island his position became one of
extreme peril, for his residence was as well known to
them as the head quarters of the army. He, there
fore, took the advice of his friends and removed his
family to Connecticut Farms, a small place a few miles

220 JAMES CALDWELL.
from Elizabethtown. As an additional precaution, he
went armed, and it was well known that no two or
four men would take him alive. Often when preach
ing in the " old red store," as it was called, he would
walk up to the table, and unbuckling a brace of pistols
lay them before him, and then commence the services
of the Sabbath. Strange as such a proceeding may
seem at the present day, this good man at the time did
not deem it to demand a passing explanation. He was
engaged in what he firmly believed to be the cause of
God, and that cause he did not consider would be
advanced by yielding himself unresistingly into the
hands of a skulking tory to be dragged to the scaffold.
His country needed his services, not his death in this
manner, though his life he held cheap enough when
ever liberty should call for the sacrifice.
The retreat of Washington through New Jersey,
hotly pursued by Cornwallis, coming as it did on the
heels of the fall of New York and Forts Washington
and Lee, paralyzed the inhabitants with terror. At
the very outset they saw their State overrun with
hostile troops, and the struggle that had opened so
auspiciously at Bunker Hill, seemed about to close in
sudden night. Mr. Caldwell, however, did not share
in the general despondency produced by this gloomy
state of affairs. The darker the prospects became, the
higher rose his resolution, and the more complicated
and disheartening the condition of the army grew, the
more persevering were his efforts, and the more tireless
his unsleeping activity. He seemed ubiquitous, for
scarcely would he be reported in one place when his

HIS LBTTERTO LEE. 221
presence was announced in another, and nothing seem
ed to escape his keen, penetrating scrutiny. His spies
were everywhere, and the enemy could not make a
movement that eluded his watchful eye. The aid he
furnished at this time to the American army in keep
ing it advised of every step taken by the invading
force was of incalculable service.
Washington at length crossed the Delaware and
drew up his enfeebled army on its farther shore, where
he waited with deep anxiety the advance of Lee from
the banks of the Hudson to his assistance. This
officer, ambitious of performing some brilliant achieve
ment which should j)lace him in enviable contrast to
Washington, lingered on his way, and from one pre
text and another deferred obeying the peremptory
orders of his commander. Even when ho reached
Morristown he postponed farther advance in hopes of
making an independent movement and cutting in two
the extended lines of the British. In order to effect this
he constantly wrote to Caldwell to keep him advised
of the motions of the enemy. The latter, though he
knew Lee's orders were to move forward with all pos
sible despatch to the main army, willingly furnished
him all the information in his power. Lee's last letter
to him was written on the 12th of December. Cald
well immediately replied to it, telling him that the
British army had moved forward, leaving nothing be
hind but the guards of the several posts, and then
added significantly that the American militia had been
moved back to Chatam, where they would be in a sit
uation to be of more service than if farther in advance,

222 JAMES CALDWELL.
"until the expected army approaches for their sup
port." Tho stern patriot, while rendering all the aid
in his power to this self-conceited and ambitious leader,
could not refrain from giving him this delicate but plain
and palpable hint as to his duty. The next day this
haughty general, who was to perform such wonderful
achievements, was captured with his entire guard while
stopping at a small tavern at Barkenridge.
After the brilliant victories at Trenton and Prince
ton, Mr. Caldwell was very little with the main army,
but devoted his time and services when not engaged
in his parochial duties to the cause of liberty in his
own State. Such was his popularity, and so entire
was the confidence of the people in his integrity, that
when the army became greatly reduced, and both pro
visions and money were hard to be obtained, he was
appointed Assistant Commissary General. He opened
his office at Chatam, and the department felt at once
a new impulse imparted to it.. His ability, energy,
popularity and well-known honesty enabled him to be
of incalculable service, and provisions began to pour in,
those bringing them accepting whatever guarantees he
could give, and sometimes taking his simple word as
security. But though he could feed the troops, he
could not pay them the money which Congress owed
them. In their destitute condition the soldiers suffered
greatly for the want of this, and were often on the
verge of open rebellion. When matters reached such
a dangerous crisis he would assemble them, and by his
eloquent appeals, not only allay the excitement of anger,
but kindle their enthusiasm so that they would promise

ASSISTANT COMMISSARY GENERAL. 223
to fight on whatever the" sufferings and hardships they
might be called to undergo.
The unselfish, entire devotion of this gifted man to
his country was of the Washington type — far above
the reach of all external influence — a devotion in which
life itself and all its outward interests were forgotten,
or remembered only as an offering ever ready to be
made to her welfare.
He gave up his church as a hospital for the sick and
wounded soldiers, who, in making tables of the seats,
often so covered them with grease and fragments of
bread and provision that the congregation on the Sab
bath would be compelled to stand during the whole
service. When the news of an approaching enemy was
received, its bell would ring out the note of alarm, for
pastor, congregation and church were all consecrated to
the same holy cause.
The appointment of any man to the post of Assist
ant Commissary General at a time when it was almost
impossible for the ablest officer to perform its duties
satisfactorily was a high compliment, but when it is
remembered that Mr. Caldwell was pastor of a church,
and preached to his congregation every Sabbath, the
selection of him to fill it shows what an exalted esti
mate was put upon his ability and patriotism. It was
not to be expected that a minister and people that oc
cupied so prominent a place in the cause of the Colo
nies could long escape the vengeance of the British.
It was well known that threats of the most malignant
kind had been made against him, but they took no
positive shape till in January, 1780, when a refugee

224 JAMES CALDWELL.
fired the church. The villain, in confession of the
deed afterwards, said he was sorry that the "black-
coated" rebel was not burned in his own pulpit. The
inhabitants were aroused by the light of the conflagra
tion, but too late to save the edifice sacred both to
freedom and to God, and it was burned to the
ground. The next summer, in June, Knyphausen made his
sudden and apparently objectless inroad into New
Jersey. On the night of the 24th Mr. Caldwell slept
in his own house, but was wakened early in the
morning by the news of the approach of the enemy.
Mounting his horse in haste he started for head
quarters with the information. He had proceeded but
a short distance, however, when he began to have seri
ous fears for his wife and family that he had left be
hind. The former, when she bade him good-bye, told
him that she had no apprehensions for her own safety,
for the enemy, she said, would not harm her and her
little children. He had often left them in a similar
way before and always found them safe on his return,
but now he was oppressed with unusual anxiety, and
after striving in vain to shake it off turned his horse
and galloped back. As he rode up to the door his wife
came out to inquire what he wanted. He told her
that he wished her and the children to accompany him
to camp, for he felt very uneasy about leaving them
behind. But she knowing they would encumber his
movements, smiled at his fears, saying there was no
danger at all, and declined entirely to leave the house.
In the mean time she went in and brought from the

MURDER OF MRS. CALDWELL. 225
breakfast table a warm cup of coffee. While he sat on
his horse drinking it the enemy came in sight. Hand
ing back the cup, and flinging her a hasty farewell, and
commending her to the care and mercy of the God in
whom they both trusted, he struck his spurs into his
horse and dashed away.
He had not been gone long before she had cause to
regret that she had not yielded to his entreaties, for
columns of smoke rising in the distance — the screams
of terrified women and children running through the
streets, told her that the enemy was on a raid, and
murder and devastation were marking their passage.
She saw at once that she was surrounded with deadly
perils, but calm as became the wife of a hero as well as
clergyman, she took her infant and retired into a private
room to commit herself and children in prayer to God.
Arising from her devotions she sat down upon the bed,
and was pondering on her desolate condition when the
maid, who had accompanied her with the other chil
dren, stepped to the window to look out. As she did
so she saw a "red coat" jump over the fence into the
yard. Alarmed, she turned quickly and told Mrs.
Caldwell. The latter knew at once that evil was in
tended her, and arose from the bed either to watch the
man's actions or to pass out of the room, when the
villain caught a glimpse of her through the window.
He knew her at a glance, and having come on purpose
to kill her, he raised his musket, and fired at her
through the window, when she fell amid her terrified
children, pierced by two balls. In the midst of the
alarm and confusion that followed the torch was ap-

226 JAMES CALDWELL.
plied to the house, and soon the little parsonage was
wrapped in flames. It was with great difficulty that
some of the neighbors whom the maid informed of the
murder were enabled to drag the body out of the burn
ing building. But having accomplished this they were
compelled to flee, leaving it exposed in the hot sun in
the public street, where it lay for hours with no one
humane enough to throw a covering over the pale and
ghastly face. At length some of her friends obtained
permission from the enemy to remove it into the only
house left standing near by.
Mr. Caldwell was at tbe "Short Hills" with the
army while this murderous scene was being enacted at
his quiet home. That evening passing by chance two
soldiers who were talking in whispers, he heard the
name of " Mrs. Caldwell" repeated two or three times.
Suspecting at once that something was wrong, he asked
them what they were talking about — if any thing had
happened to Mrs. Caldwell. They at first hesitated to
reply, unwilling to break to him the painful intelli
gence, but he besought them so earnestly to let him
know the worst that they finally told him all. The
good man staggered like a smitten ox under the sudden
blow, and turned pale as death. Eallying, however,
he murmured a broken prayer and turned away to
weep alone. That was a painful night to the noble
patriot, for not only did he mourn deeply over the
tragical end of his wife, whom he loved tenderly,
but he was filled with apprehension respecting his
orphaned children, one of whom was an infant — now
in possession of the enemy. In the morning he pro-

"put watts into them." 227
cured a flag of truce and went over to " Connecticut
Farms." The quiet little village was a heap of
smoking ruins, with only here and there a solitary
building standing as monuments to mark the desola
tion. In one of these lay the lifeless body of his
wife, and in an adjoining apartment were grouped his
weeping children.
The enemy, after burning Connecticut Farms, kept
on towards Springfield, with the intention of commit
ting the same barbarous cruelties there. Mr. Cald
well, after seeing his wife buried, and his children
placed in the care of one of his parishioners, hastened
forward to join the army. At Springfield a sharp
engagement took place between the enemy and the
American troops, and though the former were com
pelled to beat a hasty retreat, it was not till they had
burned the village to the ground. Mr. Caldwell was
in the hottest of the fight, and seeing the fire of one
of the companies slackening for want of wadding, he
galloped to the Presbyterian meeting house near by,
and rushing in, ran from pew to pew, filling his arms
with hymn books. Hastening back with these into the
battle, he scattered them about in every direction,
saying as he pitched one here and another there, "Noio
put Watts into them, boys." With a laugh and a
cheer they pulled out the leaves, and ramming home
the charges did give the British Watts with a will.
The next year this patriotic, gifted man met the
tragical fate of his wife, and sealed his devotion to his
country with his blood.
New Jersey remained comparatively tranquil after

228 JAMES CALDWELL.
the raid of Knyphausen, and flags of truce were con
stantly passing to and fro to New York, and only sol
diers enough were left in the State to act as sentinels
at main points. At this time there lived in New York
a family by the name of Murray, who had relatives
residing in Elizabethtown, and who were much beloved
by the people in the vicinity for their kindness to Jer
sey prisoners confined in the city. One of the family,
Miss Murray, wishing to visit Elizabethtown, came to
Elizabethtown Point on the 24th of November, under
a flag of truce. Mr. Caldwell went down in a carriage
to meet her, and accompany her to the town. The
details of the events that followed, I will let Di\ Mur
ray tell in his own language. " A sentry was kept up
at that time at the Fort. Tying his horse outside the
sentinel, Mr. Caldwell, proceeded to the wharf, and
taking with him Miss Murray, placed her in his car
riage, and then returned to the boat for a small bundle
that belonged to her. Thus, he passed three times
the man who was keeping guard. With a small pack
age he was returning a second time to his carriage,
when the sentinel ordered him to stop, thinking, prob
ably, that there was something contraband in the bun
dle. He replied that the bundle belonged to the young
lady in his carriage. The sentinel said that it must be
examined. Mr. Caldwell turned quickly about to carry
it back to the boat, that it might be opened there,
when 'the fatal ball struck him. The captain of the
guard hearing the report of a gun looked around, and
saw Mr. Caldwell staggering before him. He ran and
caught him in his arms and laid him on the ground,

HIS FUNERAL. 229
and without speaking a word he almost instantly ex
pired — the ball having passed through his heart.
The man who shot him was James Morgan, belong
ing to the Jersey militia — an Irishman by birth, and
a man of the most debased and profligate character.
He was always drunk when he could be ; and liquor
turned him into a savage. His family resided near a
well in Elizabethtown, into which a child of his fell
one day and was drowned. When he returned he
found his child dead, and taking it by the arms he
beat the broken-hearted mother with the dead body of
her own child until her cries brought some of the
neighbors to her rescue."
Whether Morgan was on duty as a sentinel when he
shot Caldwell is at least questionable. It is said that
on his trial it was proved that he had just been reliev
ed. Different motives are assigned for the murder.
Some say that Morgan was angry because he had not
received his regular wages, and inasmuch as Caldwell
was commissary, supposed " he was responsible for
the neglect ; " others, again, say that he was bribed
by the British, or tories. Whatever the motives might
have been that influenced him, he was, after a fair
trial, convicted of murder, and hung the next January.
The body of Mr. Caldwell was placed on some straw
in the bottom of a wagon, and taken up to town, and
the next Tuesday buried. Dr. Murray thus describes
the funeral : " The funeral was one of the most solemn
this town has ever witnessed. The concourse assem
bled on the occasion was immense. The Eev. Dr. Mc
Whorter, of Newark, preached the funeral sermoa

230 JAMES CALDWELL.
from Ecclesiastes, viii. 8, and after the service was
ended, the corpse was placed on a large stone before
the door of the house of Mrs. Noel, where all could
take a view of the remains of their beloved pastor.
When this affecting ceremony was over, and before the
coffin was closed, Dr. Boudinot came forward, leading
nine orphan children, and placing them around their
father's bier, made an address of surpassing pathos to
the multitude in their behalf. It was an hour of
deep and powerful emotion, and the procession slowly
moved to the grave, weeping as they went. And as they
lifted their streaming eyes to Heaven, they besought
the blessing of God upon the orphan group, and upon
their own efforts to resist and vanquish their oppres
sors." The promise of the orphan's God was made
good to them, for friends came forward who provided
for them so that they all grew up respectable and use
ful, and some became distinguished members of society.
Lafayette took the third child, John E., and he was
educated in France, under the direction of the Mar
chioness. Another became County Judge, while an
other still was for many years clerk of the Supreme
Court of the United States. In honor of his efforts
in the cause of African colonization, a town in Liberia
is called " Caldwell " at this day.
Mr Caldwell was as earnest in the pulpit as he was
out of it. He seldom preached without weeping him
self, and often would melt his audience to tears.
"He was a man of unwearied activity, and of won
derful powers, both of body and mental endurance.
Feelings of the most glowing piety, and the most fer-

HIS MONUMENT. 231
vent patriotism occupied his bosom, at the same time
without at all interfering with each other. He was
one day preaching to the battalion — the next providing
ways and means for their support, and the next march
ing with them to battle ; if defeated, assisting to con
duct their retreat ; if victorious, offering their united
thanksgivings to God, and the next carrying the conso
lations of the gospel to some afflicted or dying par
ishioner." The cause of freedom, and especially the State of
New Jersey, owe him a large debt, and it is gratifying
to know that his noble deeds have not been left to tra
dition alone for preservation, but that a monument
has been erected to him in the burying ground of the
First Presbyterian church, which has been built upon
the site of the old one that was burned in 1780. On
the east side of the monument is inscribed : — " This
monument is erected to the memory of the Rev. James
Caldwell, the pious and fervent christian, • the zealous
and faithful minister, the eloquent preacher, and a
prominent leader among the worthies who secured the
independence of his country. His name will be cher
ished in the Church and in the State so long as virtue
is esteemed, and patriotism honored." On the south
side : — " James Caldwell, born in Charlotte Co., Vir
ginia, April 17th, 1734 ; graduated at Princeton Col
lege, 1759 ; ordained pastor of the First Presbyterian
Church, of Elizabethtown, 1762. After serving as
chaplain in the army of the revolution, and acting as
commissary to the troops in New Jersey, he was killed
by a shot from a sentinel at Elizabethtown Point,

232 JAMES CALDWELL.
November 24th, 1781." On the other two sides are in
scriptions to his wife. One of them is, " Hannah, wife
of the Rev. James Caldwell, and daughter of Jonathan
Ogden, of Newark, was killed at Connecticut Farms
by a shot from a British soldier, June 25th,* 1780,
cruelly sacrificed by the enemies of her husband, and
of her country." " The memory of the just is blessed."
* The date is incorrect.

CHAPTER XXII.
BENJAMIN TRUMBULL.
His Birth and Education. — Takes Sides wrrn TnE Colonies. — Enters the
Army as Chaplain. — Fights in tub Ranks. — Curious Interview with Wash
ington. — Fights at Whiteplains. — Anecdote. — Fiqhts at New Haven. — Re-
tuens to his Paeish. — Writes the History of Connecticut. — His Death.—
His Publications.
Hebeon, Connecticut, has well earned a prominence
by the number of good men she gave to the Revolu
tion, and among them none rank higher as patriots
than Mr. Trumbull. Born in this parish in 1735, he
early fitted for college, and graduated at Yale when
twenty-four years of age. The year after he taught
in Dr. Wheelock's Indian charity school at Lebanon
Creek, and at the same time studied divinity. The
next year he was licensed to preach, and in the fol
lowing December was ordained and settled at North
Haven. At this time the New England Colonies began to be
agitated with the oppressive acts of Great Britain.
Of a bold spirit and sanguine temperament, a bitter
hater of wrong, and a fearless, ardent, and sometimes
stormy defender of the right, Trumbull at once took sides
with the former. His ruddy, determined face and stout
figure typified admirably his character. He had the
massive energy and strength one would expect to see
in a man of his vigorous frame and robust health, and

234 BENJAMIN TRUMBULL.
at the same time the excitability of an extremely
nervous, sensitive person. These characteristics were
prominently displayed in his efforts in the cause of
American liberty. Zealous, enthusiastic and able in
argument, he brought efficient aid to the patriots, and
it is much to be regretted that one who bore so impor
tant a part in the Revolution in his native State, and
afterwards became so distinguished as its historian,
should not have left more details and personal inci
dents connected with his services in the army. But
aside from his general patriotism and zeal very little is
known of this part of his history. It is evident, how
ever, that but for his clerical profession he would have
been found foremost in the ranks fighting for the cause
which he so nobly upheld with his tongue. As it was,
he, like many other good clergymen, could not at all
times be content with discharging the duties of his
profession, but in the ardor of his patriotism resorted
to carnal weapons to defend what he believed to be the
cause of God. Having battled manfully for the right
so long as the contest was confined to discussion and
remonstrances, the moment hostilities commenced he
offered his services as chaplain in the army. In the
campaigns that followed he appears only at intervals,
but the transient glimpses we do get of him deepens
the regret that we cannot follow him step by step in
his course. We know, however, that he was engaged
in most of the battles in the autumn that immediately
followed the fall of New York. On a certain occasion,
having learned, as he thought, that one of the divisions
of the army was in danger of being cut off, he hurried

FIGHTING ON FOOT. 235
to General Washington, and in his ardent, excited
manner told him of it. The latter had doubtless re
ceived the information before, if it was true, and
taken the necessary precautions to meet the threatened
danger, and hence listened to the chaplain's account
without surprise. Looking up and noticing the cler
ical garb of the messenger, and seeing his intense ex
citement and anxiety, he said very pleasantly, " Good
gentleman, you seem to be very much frightened."
Mr. Trumbull had evidently taken his own instead of
a military view of the matter, and on his own respon
sibility described a state of things that did not exist,
and Washington's reply was meant to intimate as
much. He, however, sadly mistook the man in sup
posing that his excitement was caused by fear — it was
produced solely by anxiety. Fear was not one of the
sensations with which he was familiar. At the battle
of Whiteplains, which took place soon after, he was
with the division that occupied Chatterton's Hill, and
aroused by the shameful flight of the militia, seized a
musket, and stepping into the ranks fought like a
common soldier. Although the cannon balls were
crashing around him, he loaded and fired with the
most imperturbable coolness. Gano standing in front
of the regiment to which he was attached, exposed to the
hottest of the fire, and refusing to stir lest his example
might dishearten the troops unaccustomed to battle,
and Mr. Trumbull fighting on foot among those with
whom he had often prayed, were not the least among
the remarkable incidents of the fiercely contested
action of Chatterton's Hill. When the division was

236 BENJAMIN TRUMBULL.
ordered to retreat across the Bronx and join the main
army under Washington, he found himself on the
shore of the stream, over which horses, artillery and
men were hurrying in confusion, at a point where the
depth did not promise an easy crossing. While hesi
tating what to do, he saw Colonel Tallmadge spur his
horse into the water close beside him. The brave
chaplain immediately resolved that the colonel's horse
should carry him also to the farther bank, and being
an active as well as strong man, he, with a vigorous
leap, landed astride the crupper. The horse, aston
ished at the summary manner in which this new ac
cession to his load was made, gave a sudden powerful
spring and cleared himself of both colonel and chap
lain, and they fell into the water together. Flounder
ing up from their cold bath as quickly as possible, they
scrambled up the farther bank, and dripping and dirty
continued their flight with the retreating force.
In July, 1799, when Gov. Tryon invaded New
Haven, he joined the volunteer company of one hundred,
who went out to retard the advance of the enemy till
the inhabitants could effect their escape with their
goods. In the skirmish that followed he fought brave
ly, showing an example of coolness and courage that
gave new life to the younger volunteers. He was
mounted on a horse that was used to the sound of
battle, and while others fired from behind fences and
trees, he sat in full open view of the enemy, and loaded
and fired from the saddle. Whenever the enemy
poured in an unusual close and deadly volley he would
duck his head behind his horse's neck and let the bul-

HIS DEATH. 237
lets whistle by, then, rising in his seat, take deliberate
aim, and fire in return. Mr. Dagget, the reverend
professor of divinity, with his long fowling-piece on
the hill-top, and Mr. Trumbull, with his musket in
the valley below, did yeomen's service on that hot
July day.
When the war was over he resumed his parochial
duties. Distinguished for his fervent spirit, and plain, fear
less utterance of truths, he devoted his best energies
to the cause of his Divine Master.
He was as remarkable for his earnest patriotism in
times of peace as he had been in war, and found leisure
to write a history of Connecticut, in two volumes,
which breathes the same love of country that had
characterized his whole life.
He lived to see his country again victorious in the
second war with England. In the winter of 1819 and
1820 he was suddenly attacked with a lung fever, which
hurried him rapidly to the grave. When told that his
case was hopeless, and that he could live but a short
time, he said, " I have always remembered my God —
I have never forgotten Him in my study, in my family,
in my rural labors, and on the field of battle, and I
doubt not He will support me now in old age, and in
death." The last words that escaped his lips were,
" Come quickly, amen. Even so come, Lord Jesus."
Thus, at the advanced age of eighty-five, this good
man, faithful minister, and devoted patriot, sunk
to rest. Of his seven children, two died in infancy,
four reached three score and ten, and one daughter

238 BENJAMIN TRUMBULL.
ninety years, while the widow lived to be ninety-
three. Besides the two volumes of history of his native
State, he published over twenty pamphlets and ser
mons. Among these was one on the right of Connect
icut to the large tract of land known as the " Susque-
hannah purchase," to which Pennsylvania laid claim.
His argument was so conclusive that Congress decided
in favor of the claim of Connecticut. The product
of the sales of this "purchase" were appropriated to
a school fund, which now amounts to more than a
million and a-half of dollars.

CHAPTER XXIII.
SAMUEL KIRELAND.
His Birth and Education. — A Teacher in Dr. Wheelock's School. — Goes a
Missionary to the Indians of New York State. — His Labors and Perils. —
. His Mission broken up by the Revolution. — Employed by Congress to
keep the Indians from joining the British. — Prevented by Brandt. — A
Chaplain in Sullivan's Brigade  -Accompanies it to Genesee Flats. — His
Services rewarded by Congress. — Settles among the Oneidas after the
War. — Founds Hamilton College. — Is thrown from his Horse. — His
Death. Samuel Kirkland is known throughout the coun
try for his long and faithful labors among the Indians
of New York State. Indeed, he is hardly ever spoken
of except as a missionary among these wandering and
neglected tribes — hence, his services in the revolution
have never received especial notice. The latter were
regarded a mere episode in his self-denying life, and
though they demanded equal sacrifices, exposures, and
hardships, were so strangely overlooked by the chroni
clers of the times that at this late day it is impossible
to give any detailed account of them.
The tenth in a family of twelve children, he was
born in Norwich, Conn., on the 1st day of December,
1741. When twenty years of age, he became a stu
dent in Dr. Wheelock's celebrated school, at Lebanon,
but in 1762 entered the sophomore class in Princeton
College, and at once took a high position as a scholar,
and a young man of intellect. Leaving college eight
months before his class graduated, he went as a mis-

240 SAMUEL KIRKLAND.
sionary to the Senecas, the most remote, powerful, and
warlike of the Six Nations. A mere youth, only twen
ty-three years of age, he plunged fearlessly into the
western wilderness of New York, and underwent hard
ships, and encountered dangers, the narrative of which
at this day would read like a romance. Alone and
unprotected he wandered for a year and a-half among
these lawless tribes, facing what often seemed to be
inevitable death, with a calm courage that filled those
wild warriors with wonder. His escapes sometimes
seemed almost miraculous. He returned in 1766,
bringing with him a Seneca chief, who, being intro
duced by him to the general assembly, of Connecticut,
at Hartford, was received with marked honor. In
June, of this year, he was ordained at Lebanon, and
receiving a general commission as Indian missionary,
returned to the Oneidas, and took up his residence
with them. He remained here, prosecuting his self-
denying labors till the commencement of the revolu
tion, when the threatening sound of the rising tribes
along our frontier broke up his mission. He then
offered his services to Congress, and endeavored to
enlist the Indians of the State on the side of the
Americans, or at least induce them to preserve a strict
neutrality. His knowledge of their various dialects,
and the influence he had acquired over them, rendered
him the most fitting agent to accomplish this object.
Although, in prosecuting his mission, he visited the
various tribes, he was especially anxious that the Six
Nations should not take up arms on the side of the
British, for he knew if they did our frontiers would be

ACCOMPANIES SULLIVAN. 241
drenched in blood. To prevent this, he made long
journeys, attended council after council in various
places, and at one time thought he should succeed in
keeping those powerful confederated tribes tranquil.
But the famous Mohawk warrior, Brandt, coun
teracted all his efforts, and the massacres of the
Mohawk valley, of Wyoming, and Minisink followed,
filling the State with mourning. Shut out from the
field of his labors, Kirkland entered the army as a
chaplain, but, as remarked before, of his valuable ser
vices in this capacity but little is left on record, or has
been handed clown by tradition. We find him in 1778
and 1779 among the Oneidas, collecting and transmit
ting to government information of the designs and
movements of the enemy along Niagara and the lakes,
which was of great value, and which could be obtained
in no other way. His knowledge of the Indian lan
guages, and the desire of friendly Indians to render
him any service, gave him great facilities in this res
pect, and he kept in constant communication with
those having the direction of public affairs. His long
sojourn in the wilderness, and his extensive travels in
that almost unknown region, gave him also a knowl
edge of the country which no other white man pos
sessed. Hence, when Sullivan was sent with his brig
ade to chastise the hostile nations of the Susquehannah
and the Genesee valleys, he was solicited to accompany
him as chaplain. He did so, and saw a powerful army
sweep through the forests where, so many years before,
he passed alone and unattended. The contrast was a
painful one. Then, with the bible in his hand? trust-
11

242 SAMUEL KIRKLAND.
ing alone in the protection of Heaven, he went the
messenger of peace, preaching the gospel of Christ to
the savages — now he came with fire and sword, to
slaughter and lay waste. The drum, and bugle, and
loud-mouthed cannon had taken the place of tones of
kindness and friendship, and he saw with an aching
heart the awful scourge move resistlessly on. The
peaceful village, smiling in the summer sun, and the
waving fields of corn disappeared as it passed, while
the warriors, who gathered in their defence, were
stretched stark and stiff amid the desolation. At last
the devastating army reached the Eden of this wild
region, the beautiful Genesee flats. Twenty miles
long and four broad, the cultivated valley spread out
before them in all its richness and beauty. The tall
grass bent before the wind — corn-field on corn-field as
far as the eye could reach, waved in the sunlight: —
orchards, that had been growing for generations, were
weighed down under the profusion of fruit — cattle
grazed on the banks of the river, while a hundred and
twenty houses, not huts, but large, airy buildings, nes
tled amid fruit trees, making a scene of surpassing
loveliness. Mr. Kirkland saw the army of five thou
sand encamp at night amid this beauty and luxuri
ance. Before noon the next day the smoke of burning
dwellings covered the valley, and when it lifted, a wide
desolation met the eye, and the army encamped at
ni<?ht in a desert.
The important services he rendered the country both
before and during this campaign have passed into ob
livion. Wo can only infer their value from the action

AGAIN A MISSIONARY. 243
of Congress subsequently. That body voted him a
liberal grant of land, specifying that it was in consid
eration of his services as a chaplain and other " impor
tant services rendered during the Avar." The State of
New York, the general government and Sullivan all
recognized and appreciated them. Thus, in every de
partment of the Revolution, the influence of the clergy
was felt. In the provincial legislatures, in the general
Congress originating and upholding important meas
ures — in the remote parishes rousing the people to
arms — in the tented field by example and precept
teaching the troops heroism, self-denial and morality —
in the wilderness among the savage tribes — everywhere
where wisdom and knowledge were required, soldiers
wanted and work was to be done, they were found per
forming not a subordinate but a leading part. One
cannot look anywhere over the thirteen States during
that struggle or along their bleeding frontiers without
seeing the clergy standing as bulwarks of freedom or
toiling single handed for its success. Turn which way
we will we are made to feel that a history of American
Independence that leaves the clergy out, or only men
tions them incidentally, is not only false in fact, but
what is still worse, false in one of the great lessons
God designed our early history should teach.
After the war Mr. Kirkland returned to his labors
among the Oneidas, which eventually were crowned
with great success. In 1791 he made a census of the
Six Nations, and in the winter of the same year, at
the request of the Secretary of War, took forty chiefs
and warriors — representatives of the Five Nations — to

244 SAMUEL KIRKLAND.
Philadelphia, for the purpose of consulting in reference
to the introduction of civilization among them, and of
effecting a permanent treaty of peace between them
and the United States. In both of these objects he
was successful, and then returned to his missionary
labors among the Oneidas, where he built him a log
hut into which he removed his family. He soon after
established an academy at Hamilton, which continued
to flourish until 1810, when it was elevated to the rank
of a college, that still remains a monument of his
labors in the cause of education. In 1796 he was
thrown from his horse and seriously injured. He
never recovered entirely from the shock he received in
this accident, and remained more or less an invalid till
1808, when he was struck with paralysis, which carried
him off suddenly and without his being conscious ap
parently of his approaching end. Brought into con
tact with the most prominent men of the country, he
was widely known and died universally lamented.

CHAPTER XXIV.
JAMES HALL.
His Birth and Education. — Settled in North Carolina. — Rouses nis People
to oppose the Mother Country. — Is made Captain of a Company of Cav
alry. — Acts also as Chaplain. — Marches to South Carolina. — Offered the
Commission of Brigadier General by Greene. — Declines. — His After
Life. James Hall was born in Carlisle, Pennsylvania,
August 22d, 1744. When he was eight years of age
his parents removed to North Carolina and settled in
a district now known as Iredell county. At the age
of twenty he made a public profession of religion, and
soon after turned his attention to the ministry, but did
not enter college till 1774, or in his thirty-first year.
Being a fine mathematician, Dr. Witherspoon wished
to retain him as tutor in the collge, but he said he had
devoted himself to the ministry and did not feel at
liberty to make any engagements that would divert
him from it. He therefore entered immediately on his
theological studies under Dr. Witherspoon, and in less
than two years was licensed to preach. In 1778 he
was settled over the united congregations of Fourth
Creek, Concord and Bethany, and remained their
pastor till 1790.
Previous to this he had become deeply enlisted in the
cause of the Colonies, and declined no service, no
matter how great the sacrifice it demanded, which

246 JAMES HALL.
could in any way benefit his country. He did not
confine his efforts to the pulpit, but took the lead in
all public meetings held to discuss the political topics
of the day. He denounced toryism unsparingly, and
on every occasion when he could get a hearing made
eloquent and earnest appeals in behalf of freedom.
The claims of one's country he declared were next to
those of God, and could not be treated with neglect
without sacrificing every principle of honor and of
duty. He was not one of those timorous patriots who
are zealous for their country when not called upon to
encounter personal danger, but are silent when the
thunder of cannon is near. While the conflict was
raging in the northern provinces, his sympathy and
interest found expression in prayers, exhortations and
public addresses, but the moment the sound of battle
was heard on the borders of his own State that sym
pathy showed itself in action. Cornwallis, in his
victorious march through South Carolina, sent out
detachments in various directions to scour the country,
whose barbarous conduct filled every bosom with in
dignation. Mr. Hall at once called together his flock,
and after relating some of the bloody acts that had been
committed by the invaders, besought them, in the name
of their distracted country, and for the sake of their
friends and neighbors who were hewn down by their
merciless foes, to take up arms in their defence. Tears
rolled down the cheeks of those sturdy frontiersmen
at the thrilling appeal, and catching the enthusiasm
of their pastor they immediately organized a body of
cavalry to go to the assistance of their fellow-country-

CAPTAIN AND CHAPLAIN. 247
men in South Carolina. When the inquiry was made
who should be selected as captain, they declared
with one voice for Parson Hall. He accepted the
appointment without a moment's hesitation and with
his sword buckled to his side and the Bible in his
pocket put himself at their head. He had, however,
no intention of sinking his profession in his military
command — he believed he was equally doing God's
service whether fighting or praying, and he therefore
installed himself their chaplain, and fulfilled the duties
of this office as faithfully as those of captain. On
their way to South Carolina he prayed with them reg
ularly, and on the Sabbath preached to them. In fact
they were a part of his usual audience at home, for
they were almost to a man members of one of his conr
gregations. It reminded one of the times of Cromwell
to see this man of God assemble his company of irreg
ular cavalry, and with head uncovered solemnly com
mend them and their cause to God, and then ride to
their head and give the order to march. To these
simple minded, brave men there was nothing incon
gruous in this. They had received their lessons in
patriotism from their pastor — been taught by him to
regard resistance to the tyrannical oppressions of the
mother country obedience to God, and urged by him to
the present undertaking, and it seemed peculiarly fit that
he should be both their leader and spiritual teacher.
He was absent in this expedition for several months,
sharing the hardships and privations of his soldiers
throughout, and «ver retaining their confidence and
love by his cool courage, Christian forbearance, and

248 JAMES HALL.
faithfulness. Subsequently, an army was sent against
the Cherokees, in Georgia, and he accompanied it as
chaplain. In the long and tedious march through the
wilderness, which occupied two months, he found but
one opportunity to preach to the troops. The sermon
he delivered on this occasion, being the first ever
preached in the Indian territory, the adjacent county,
in honor of the event, was named after him, Hall
county. His influence and abilities were so well known
that after the death of Gen. Davidson, in the skirmish
of Cowansford, on the Catawba, Gen. Greene, then
commanding in the Carolinas, selected him to fill his
place, and the commission of Brigadier-General was
offered him. He declined the appointment, however,
saying, that there were others who could fill that post
quite as well as himself, while he preached the gospel.
Leading his little flock, whom he had urged to take
up arms to assist their neighbors in driving back the
enemy, who were wasting them with fire and sword,
he regarded a very different thing from changing his
profession, and devoting himself to a military life.
The former was a duty forced on him by circumstan
ces, the latter was not, and appeared to him more
a matter of choice as to what profession he should
follow. At the close of the war he found religion in his
vicinity in a low condition, and with his accustomed
zeal commenced to " repair the waste places of Zion."
A powerful revival followed his exertions, and many
were gathered into the Church. He gave himself no
rest in the work so dear to his heart, and his health at

MISSIONARY LABORS. 249
length broke down under his severe labors. Unable
to rally, he was after much persuasion, induced to try
the effects of a sea voyage to restore it, and embarked
at Charleston for Philadelphia. In 1793 he under
took a missionary tour along the western frontier under
a commission of Synod, which involved gi)eat hard
ships. In 1800, with two others, he commenced a
mission at Natchez, the first missionary effort made
in the lower valley of the Mississippi. His labors in
the cause of education were of incalculable benefit to
the South, and many distinguished statesmen and
divines were indebted to him for their literary train
ing. He died on the 25th of July, 1826, in the
eightieth year of his age. 11*

CHAPTER XXV.
JOHN GANO.
The Baptists of Virginia. — Gano's early Life. — Visits the South ant*
Preaches. — Arraigned for it, but is Acquitted and Licensed. — Anecdotes
of iiis Coolness and Courage. — Settled in North Carolina. — Offered a
Captain's Commission in the Army against the Cheeokees. — Declines. —
Returns North. — Finally Settles in New Yoek. — His Congregation
broken up. — Joins the Army as Chaplain. — Under Fire at White Plains. —
At Trenton. — Chaplain under Clinton at Fort Montgomery. — His Des
cription of the taking of the Fort. — With Clinton's Brigade at Albany.
— Its Chaplain in the Expedition against thb Indians. — Anecdotes of
him in this Campaign. — Sermon on the Fourth of July. — His Faithfulness.
— Goes South with the Army advancing against Cornwallis. — Returns to
HIS CHURCH AT THE CLOSE OF THE War. — REMOVES TO KENTUCKY. — His DEATH.
The Baptists, though not so imposing a denomina
tion in numbers at the time of the revolution as now,
nevertheless threw the weight of their influence, what
ever it might be, on the side of the colonies. Thus,
in 1775, we find them in Virginia, presenting as a
body, an address to the convention, in which they say,
" that however distinguished from the body of their
countrymen by appellation, and sentiments of a relig
ious nature, they, nevertheless, consider themselves as
members of the same community in respect to matters
of a civil nature, and embarked in the same common
cause ; that, alarmed at the oppression which hangs
over America, they had considered what part it would
be proper to take in the unhappy contest, and had
tletermrned that they ought to make a military resis
tance against Great Britain in her unjust invasion,

G A NO'S YOUTH. 251
tyrannical oppression, and repeated hostilities," and left
their church members to enlist, and asked that four
of their ministers, whom they had selected, might be
allowed to preach to the troops during the campaign
with the same freedom as chaplains of the established
Church. The most distinguished clergyman of this denomina
tion who served during the revolutionary war, was Eev.
John Gano, a native of Hopewell, New Jersey. Be
coming religious in his early youth, he felt it at times
to be his duty to study for the ministry, but so many
obstacles stood in the way that he endeavored to drive
the subject from his mind. But being unable to do so,
he finally yielded to what he felt to be the Divine
promptings, and entered on his studies. These, how
ever, were somewhat desultory, and at the end of two
or three years he took a journey to Virginia with two
distinguished clergymen, who had been appointed by
the Philadelphia Association to settle some difficulties
existing in some feeble churches there. Traveling
through a sparsely settled country, and where the
gospel was seldom heard, he found himself so pressed
to preach that he finally consented. For this irregular
conduct he was called to account when he returned to
Hopewell by the Baptist church there, of which he was
a member. He however, expressed no regrets for his
course, declaring " that he had no disposition to repent
having sounded the gospel to perishing sinners in Vir
ginia, whose importunities to hear it he could not
resist." It ended in the Church setting him apart to "
preach.

252 JOHN GANO.
Mr. Gano was a little under the medium height,
with a slender, but firmly knit frame. His counten
ance was open and frank, and its clear outlook indica
ted the self-collected, fearless spirit that characterized
him. In this southern journey through a comparative
wilderness he often found himself in circumstances
that called for all his presence of mind and nerve.
One evening he and Mr. Miller, his companion, put
up at a tavern where a noisy, profane company had
assembled. At his request the landlord put them in a
room remote as possible from the drinking, swearing
frontiersmen, and then stepped into the apartment of
the latter and asked them not to disturb the travelers
who had just arrived. They were just drunk enough
to have this reasonable request appear to them a gross
insult, and starting up in indignation they rushed in a
body to the room, where young Gano and Mr. Miller
were sitting, and with loud oaths demanded who they
were. Gano, only twenty-seven years old, calmly re
plied, " We are civil travelers, who wish neither to
disturb you nor be disturbed by you." The man who
acted as leader immediately advanced towards him in
a threatening manner, and shaking his fist in his face,
exclaimed, with an oath, pointing to one of his burly
comrades, " There is a man who can whip you or any
body else in the room." Young Gano turned his quiet
glance on the bully thus pointed out and replied,
"Very probably, sir, for he looks much more like a
man than you act, and I daresay that he and the rest
of his companions are ashamed of you and your con-

NIGHT ADVENTURE. 253
duct." The ruffian was completely cowed by the cool
manner and calm superiority of the young stranger,
and before he could recover his self-possession Gano
turned to the landlord, who had just entered, and in
that quiet tone of command which men obey without
knowing why, said, " Put that fellow out of the room!"
He did so without the others offering the least interfer
ence. Gano then turned to them and remarked in his
quiet, grave manner, that their companion who had just
been turned out of the room was a striking instance of
the depravity of human nature. He then went on to say
that God never designed us to make others unhappy,
but to benefit and help each other, — making them
a short but serious speech. They heard him out
in silence, then shook hands with him in a friendly
manner, and wished him a good journey.
On another occasion, when just as he was about en
tering alone and in the night time a long piece of woods,
he was overtaken by a rough-looking man, who insisted
on accompanying him, although he told him he did not
wish his society, seeing from the fellow's bearing and
manner that his intentions were evil. Finding that he
could not shake him off he rode quietly on. When he
entered the woods and it became so dark that he could
not see his brigand companion, he urged his horse up
beside him, and placing his hand on his leg so as to detect
the least hostile motion, held it there till he came to a
clearing. Eiding up to the log hut in it he roused the
inmate, who demanded as he came to the door what he
wanted. Pointing to the stranger who had forced himself
on his company, he exclaimed, "Seize that man!" The

254 ' JOHN GANO.
latter alarmed, immediately gave his horse the whip and
disappeared in the darkness. The cool determination
and self-pcssession of Gano evinced by his deliberately
riding to the robber's side in the darkness and laying his
hand upon his thigh so astounded and overawed him that
he dared not make his intended attack. It was moral
power that subdued him — a superior soul, superior in
courage, resolution and in conscious resources, before
which his brutal spirit quailed.
These incidents are mentioned to show the metal of
the man, who, like Paul, was fitted by nature to be a
great military commander, but became by grace a
great leader in the Church.
Soon after his ordination he was sent back to Vir
ginia as a missionary, and labored for several years
amid the frontier settlements South. Many anecdotes
are told of him while successfully prosecuting his
labors here, illustrating both his natural sagacity, and
elevated piety.
In 1758 he was settled over a church in North Car
olina, wbich he afterwards left on account of the war
which had broken out with the Cherokees. The Gov
ernor sent him a captain's commission in the army,
but he declined to act under it, and returned to New
Jersey. He afterwards went to Philadelphia, but
staid only a part of the year, then settled down in
New York city, where he built up a flourishing church
and congregation, with whom he remained till the
arrival of the British troops, which dispersed them
over the country. Having removed his family to
Connecticut, he returned to the city, determined to

UNDER FIRE. 255
stay there till the enemy entered it. Col. Webb's
regiment being at Stamford at that time, he was in
vited by him to become its chaplain. He declined,
but accepted an invitation to come out to them and
preach once every Sabbath.
The simultaneous passage of the enemy's ships up
the North and East rivers after the battle of Long
Island, and the retreat of Washington, gave him no time
to remove his household furniture, and leaving every
thing behind, he mounted his horse and set out for the
American camp. He was with the army in the
skirmishes at Harlem — retreated with it to Kings
bridge, and thence to White Plains. In the fierce
conflict on Chatterton's hill he was continually under
fire, and his cool and quiet courage in thus fearlessly
exposing himself was afterwards commented on in the
most glowing terms by the officers who stood near him.
He himself in speaking of it said, " My station in
time of action I knew to be among the surgeons ; but
in this battle I somehow got in front of the regiment,
yet I durst not quit my place for fear of dampening
the spirits of the soldiers, or of bringing on me an
imputation of cowardice. Eather than do either, I
chose to risk my fate." One can not repress a smile
at this naive account of himself in the front of battle.
When a soldier, whose appropriate place is there, finds
himself in the rear, we sometimes hear some such lame
excuse as " that somehow he got there," but for one
to use it for being under the enemy's fire when his
appointed place is elsewhere, is both novel and amus
ing. If the brave, heroic chaplain had analyzed his

256 JOHNGANO.
feelings a little closer, he would have found that the
reasons given for staying under fire were really the
ones that brought him under it — the impulses of his
noble, patriotic nature. He saw around him on every
side cowardice and fear ; and carried away by his own
heroic impulses, he involuntarily sought the dangers
that he could not bear to see his countrymen so afraid
to meet. To one acquainted with the perfectly fear
less and chivalrous character of the man, and at the
same time familiar with the details of this battle, it
is the easiest thing in the world to understand how he
came into the exposed position in which he so unac
countably found himself.
McDougall, with fifteen hundred men, assisted by
Alexander Hamilton, attempted to defend the hill,
while the main army lay farther back behind the little
stream called Bronx river. On the 29th of October
Howe moved across the country with his heavy col
umns, and instead of assaulting Washington at once,
stopped to carry Chatterton's Hill. As soon as he got
his twelve or fifteen pieces of artillery within range he
opened on the American lines. The heavy thunder
rolling over the heights carried consternation into the
ranks of the militia, and as a round shot struck one of
their number, mangling him frightfully, the whole
turned and fled. Colonel Hazlet tried in vain to in
duce them to drag forward the field pieces so as to
sweep the ascending columns, but he was able to man
only one, and that so poorly that he was compelled to
seize the drag ropes himself. But he was denied the
gratification of using even this one gun, for as it was

IN FRONT OF THE REGIMENT. 257
being slowly trundled to the front a ball from the en
emy's batteries struck the carriage, scattering the shot in
every direction, and setting fire to a wad of tow. In an
instant the piece was abandoned in terror. Only one
man had the courage to remain and tread out the fire
and collect the shot. Hamilton, however, with two
guns in battery, coolly swept the slope carrying away
whole platoons at every discharge. But after a little
time McDougall found only six hundred of the fifteen
hundred with which he commenced the fight, left to
sustain the shock of the whole British army. This he
did gallantly for a whole hour, then retreated slowly
and in good order, taking all his artillery and baggage
with him, and crossing the Bronx joined the main
army. It was on such a sight as this the fearless
chaplain gazed with a bursting heart. As he saw more
than half the army fleeing from the sound of cannon —
others abandoning their pieces without firing a shot,
and a brave band of only six hundred manfully sus
taining the whole conflict, he forgot himself, and dis
tressed at the cowardice of his countrymen, and filled
with chivalrous and patriotic sympathy for the little
band that scorned to fly, he could not resist the strong
desire to share their perils, and eagerly yet involun
tarily pushed forward to the front. This is the true
explanation of the " somehow" he got out of his place
in the rear, and "found himself in front of the regi
ment," just as it is the reason that he would not retire
though cannon balls were crashing around him. A
truly brave man can never refrain from stepping to
the side of brave men when, overpowered by numbers,

258 JOHN GANO.
they still make a gallant and desperate stand for the
right. He accompanied the army in its retreat to North
Castle, where it encamped near a meeting-house, which
was turned into a hospital for the sick and wounded.
Supposing the army would remain here for some
time he obtained a furlough for a few days to visit his
family. When he returned, instead of encountering
pickets and sentries and a bustling encampment, he
found the place deserted and silent. Every tiling had
changed like a dream of the night, and he rode slowly
forward towards the meeting-house, but around it there
was not the sign of a living thing. Dismounting at
the door he opened it and passed up the empty aisle.
The groups of sufferers he had prayed with there were
all gone. Pausing for a moment to contemplate the
changed scene he heard a slight noise, and going in
the direction from whence it proceeded found one poor
wounded soldier all alone in a pew with a bottle of
water by his side.
Ascertaining that the regiment to which he belonged
was with General Lee, he hastened forward to join it.
The orders had already been received by this officer to
effect a speedy junction with the main army concen
trated on the banks of the Delaware. Delaying to
obey them as long as he dared, he at length set out, but
was captured in Baskingbridge. Gano then accompa
nied the division which marched rapidly forward to join
Washington. He crossed the wintry Delaware with
the army when it made its fearful midnight march on

CHAPLAIN AT FORT MONTGOMERY. 259
Trenton, and shared in the dangers of the battle that
followed. Soon after this engagement the time of the troops to
which Gano belonged expired, but Washington urged
them to remain six weeks longer, until reenforcements
which he expected should arrive, offering them ten
dollars bounty, though he did not know where the
money was to come from. They responded to hjs
urgent appeal, and Robert Morris, that noble patriot,
on receiving a letter from Washington stating what he
had done, immediately borrowed fifty thousand dollars
on his own credit and forwarded it to him, telling, him
to call on him again when he wanted more.
At the expiration of the six weeks the troops were
discharged. The officers, however, determined to raise
another regiment, and having seen the value of Gano's
services came to him, and asked him if he would join
them as chaplain if they succeeded in their efforts.
He said he would, but on his arrival at home he found
a letter awaiting him from Colonel Dubosque, stationed
at Fort Montgomery, just below West Point, asking
him to accept the post of chaplain to his regiment.
Instead of writing his refusal he determined to ride
across the country and see the colonel, and deliver it in
person. On his arrival, however, General James Clin
ton, the commander-in-chief, who had heard of him,
joined his solicitations to those of Colonel Dubosque,
and urged him so warmly to remain that he finally
consented, and entered at once on the discharge of his
duties. The two forts, Montgomery and Clinton, situated

260 JOHN GANO.
near West Point, were considered the key of the
Hudson, yet in 1777, when Burgoyne was pushing his
victorious columns on towards Albany, and it was
well known that Henry Clinton at New York would
make a desperate effort to effect a junction with him,
they were garrisoned with only six or seven hundred
men. Clinton, aware of their feebleness, determined
to capture them, and embarking between three and four
thousand men advanced up the Hudson, and landed
at Verplanck's Point to convey the impression that his
object was to attack Putnam, stationed at Peekskill.
But soon as it was dark he reimbarked the troops, and
concealed by a dense fog crossed the river and landing
at Stony Point, at daybreak entered the defiles that
led to the forts. Now hanging along the sides of the
mountain and now plunging into deep ravines he toiled
on all day, and, driving before him the various detach
ments sent out to arrest his progress, arrived two hours
before sunset in front of the works.
The mountain sides, and the thick forest at their
base, had all the afternoon rung with the sound of
drum and bugle, and volleys of musketry marking
both the lines of progress, and the rapidity of the
advance of the hostile columns, and now, as they drew
near, Gano, with his accustomed indifference to danger,
walked the breastworks, viewing their approach till
the whole open space around the Fort was red with the
scarlet uniforms. The British immediately commen
ced a general fire, and he, finding the musket balls
flying rather too thickly around him, descended into
the Fort. In speaking of it afterwards he said, " I

ATTACK ON FORT MONTGOMERY. 261
observed the enemy marching up a little hollow that
they might be secured from our firing till they came
within eighty yards of us. Our breast-work immedi-
diately before them was not more than waist-band
high, and we had but few men. The enemy kept up
a heavy firing till our men gave them a well-directed
fire, which affected them very sensibly. Just at thjs
time we had a reinforcement from a redoubt next to
us, which obliged the enemy to withdraw. I walked
to an eminence where I had a good prospect, and saw
the enemy advancing toward our gate." It " some
how " always happened that Gano forgot in time of
action " his place among the surgeons," and was where
he could see how the battle was going. This " advance
toward the gate" was observed by Capt. Moody in
Fort Clinton, who, "seeing our desperate situation,
gave the enemy a charge of grape shot, which threw
them into great confusion. Moody repeated his charge,
which entirely dispersed them for that time." At
sunset a couple of flags were sent demanding the im
mediate surrender of the Fort, and threatening in case
of refusal to put the garrison to the sword. The two
brothers, Clintons, commanding in the two Forts, sent
the same answer to the summons, viz., that they chose
the latter alternative. On the return of the flags the
firing recommenced, and for two hours it flamed and
thundered there in the darkness, and then came the
final assault. The drums beat a hurried charge, and the
overwhelming mass of the enemy poured in one wild
torrent over the feeble defences, and by mere weight of
numbers crushed down the little handful that had stood

262 JOHN GANO.
so bravely at bay. Gano was in the midst of the melee,
and with the rest, when driven back, leaped over the
breast-work in the darkness and plunged down the
cliffs to the river. " Many," he says, " escaped to the
water's side and got on board a scow and pushed off.
Before she had got twice her length we grappled one
of our row galleys into which we all got, and crossed
the river." The fugitives then made their toilsome
way to New Windsor, where they arrived several days
after. Here they were joined by others who had es
caped. On looking over their returns they found, he
says, that " we had lost, killed, and taken prisoners
about three hundred men. The enemy, as we after
wards understood, had one thousand or eleven hundred
killed, among whom were eighteen captains, and one
or two field officers, besides a great number wounded.'
Obtaining a furlough for a short absence, he now
returned to his family at New Fairfield, but tarried
only till the birth of a daughter relieved his solicitude
respecting his wife, when he again started for the army.
At the opening of the next campaign, Gen. Clinton's
brigade, consisting of four regiments, had not a chap
lain in it, and he earnestly urged Gano to accept the
post. He consented, and soon after received his com
mission from Congress. During this summer the brig
ade was not engaged in active service, and Mr. Gano's
duties assumed the quiet character of those of a pastor
among his people. At the close of the campaign it
was ordered to take winter quarters at Albany. A
large portion of the troops encamped at Canajoharie,
and they sent a request to Clinton that he would let

EXPEDITION AGAINST INDIANS. 263
the chaplain come and spend some time with them,
and preach to them. He consented arfd Mr. Gano
went over to the camp. On his arrival they asked
him to preach a little more about politics than he
commonly did. He took for his text the words of
Moses to his father-in-law. " Come go thou with us,
and ive will do thee good ; for he that seeketh my life
seeketh thy life, but with us thou shalt be in safeguard."
He was always peculiarly happy in the choice of his
texts, selecting them in reference to the immediate
occasion, while his original mode of treating them,
and plain familiar way of talking, as it were, to the
soldiers, never failed to give him an attentive audience.
His known coolness in danger, and even complete sang
froid when under fire of the enemy, made him a great
favorite with the troops, and indeed an object of ad
miration as a man to the officers.
At this time the expedition against the Indians of
western New York was organized, and General Sulli
van placed at the head of it. He immediately issued
orders for the main army to assemble at Wyoming, the
seat of the massacre, from which point he determined
to ascend the Susquehanna to the Indian settlements.
Clinton, in the meantime, received orders to advance
up the Mohawk, and crossing over to Otsego Lake,
the head of the Susquehanna, form a junction with
Sullivan at any point he should designate. A hundred
and eight flat-bottomed boats were provided to convey
his troops and provisions, and floated up the Mohawk
to Canajoharie. Here they were lifted from the water
and transported through the woods and swamps six-

264 JOHN GANO.
teen miles to Otsego. While a part of the army was
cutting and making a road for the boats and carrying
them across the country, another portion was sent to
Otsego to dam the outlet and raise the water in the
lake, for it was now midsummer, and Clinton had
learned that the Susquehanna was so low that it
would be impossible to float the loaded boats down it.
The army lay here for six weeks waiting for orders to
march, during which time Mr. Gano's labors as chap
lain were uninterrupted. In all his intercourse with
the troops he kept in view the duties of his station,
and never suffered an opportunity to pass in which he
could rebuke sin or put in a word of admonition. One
morning, as he was going to the regimental prayers, he
passed by a group of officers, one of whom not seeing
him approach was swearing in an excited manner.
The other officers saluted the chaplain as usual, when
the profane lieutenant turning quickly round saw him,
and checking himself, said, " Good morning, doctor."
" Good morning," replied Gano, " I see you pray
early." The abashed officer colored and stammered
out, "I beg your pardon, sir." "Oh," replied the
chaplain, passing on, "I cannot pardon you, you must
carry your case to God." On another occasion he was
standing near some soldiers who was disputing respect
ing whose duty it was to cut wood for one of the camp
fires. At length one exclaimed in an angry manner,
" I'll be d  -d if i" will do it." Soon after finding
he must, he took up the axe to perform it. Gano im
mediately stepped forward, and reaching out his hand,
said, " Give me the axe." " Oh no," replied the sol-

FOURTH OF JULY. 265
dier, "the chaplain shan't cut the Wood." "Yes, but
I must." " Why ?" said the soldier in surprise. "Be
cause I just heard you say you would be d  d if
you would cut it, and I had rather do it for you than
that you should be made miserable forever." The
longest homily on the guilt of profanity would not
have produced half the effect on the soldiers that this
indirect rebuke did.
The army lay here on the 4th of July, and General
Clinton prepared to celebrate the day with appropriate
ceremonies. Having in my possession the original
order book of Clinton, kept during this expedition, I
insert the order he issued on this occasion as a curi
osity. " This day being the anniversary of the inde
pendence of America, the General is pleased to order
that all the troops under his command should draw a
gill of rum per man, extraordinary, in memory of that
happy event.
"At one o'clock this afternoon a Fatigue party,
composed of four Captains, four Subordinates, eight
Sergeants, two hundred rank and file will assemble in
the usual place of parade in front of the camp with
hatchets or axes, to clear the ground of the brushes and
other inconveniencies which are thereon, for the purpose
of parading the Army for the (fue De Joye). Lieut.
Col. Willett will take command of of the above party.
" The commanding officers of regiments will see that
on inspection of the Ammunition in their respective
regiments be made through the different companies,
and if there is any spoiled cartridges, three of them
will be allowed for every soldier for the fue De Joye,
12

266 JOHN GANO.
in lieu of which those who shall not be provided the
different Quarter Masters will make a return to the
conductor of Military stores to be supplied with spoiled
or blank cartridges, three per man.
" The troops now in camp will parade for that pur
pose in front of tbe encampment at half past three
this afternoon in one line from right to left, each batta
lion will take place as they are now encamped," (then
follows the names of the officers). " After (fue De
Joye) is finished, a sermon will be preached by the
brigade chaplain on this happy event.
"And it is the General's pleasure that the troops
under his command will assemble at 7 o'clock every
evening while we remain in this place, upon the grand
parade, for prayers. The General expects that the
troops will be clean as possible, and begs that every
officer will exert himself on that subject."
The parade being finished, Mr. Gano^ mounted a
platform, and casting his eye over the glittering ranks,
whose bright uniforms were thrown into strong relief
by the green woods that surrounded them, exclaimed,
" This day shall be a memorial unto you throughout
your generations." Officers and men listened with
the deepest attention as he spoke of the time when the
day on which the declaration of independence was
given to the world would be celebrated like the Jew's
passover, with thanksgivings and public rejoicings, and
kept as a perpetual memorial of God's deliverance
of His people. In speaking of it he said, " On this
occasion the soldiers behaved with the most decency
that I ever knew them to during the war. Some of

GETTING OVER SHOALS. 267
them usually absented themselves from worship on
Lord's day, and the only punishment they were sub
jected to was the digging up of stumps, which in some
instances had a good effect."
The long delay at this point was very vexatious, and
a nightmare seemed to rest on the expedition. Gano,
who saw that both officers and privates were getting very
impatient, at length spoke to Clinton on the subject.
" The General," he says, " informed him that he had re
ceived orders to march, and that he should move the next
Monday. He requested me not to mention it till after
service the next day, which was Sunday. I preached to
them from these words, " Being ready to depart on the
morrow." The soldiers, who were accustomed to look
for a deep meaning in his very texts, listened with
more than common interest to the sermon that follow
ed. As soon as the services closed, Clinton assembled
the officers, and ordered that each captain should detail
a certain number of men from his company to draw
the boats from the lake, and string them along the
Susquehannah below the dam and load them so that
they might be ready to depart in the morning. The
following day at sunrise the camp broke up, and
though the dam had been opened several hours previ
ous, yet the swell it had occasioned in the river served
to carry the boats over the shoals and flats, which oth
erwise would have been impassable. There had been a
long drought, and it was, therefore, a matter of pro
found wonder to the Indians down the river, for above
a hundred miles, what could have occasioned such an
astonishing freshet. The soldiers marched along both

268 JOHN GANO.
banks, exeepting the invalids, who went in the boats
with the baggage and provisions." Thus, the host
streamed on through the forest, lining the picturesque
shores of the Susquehanna with their gay uniforms,
while the long fleet of boats wound like a huge ser
pent between. Day after day they toiled on, and at
length came in sight of Sullivan's tents at Cayuga,
when loud shouts from both armies made the wilder
ness ring. The whole army then took up its line of
march for the Genesee flats.
The battle of Newtown followed, in which the In
dians, though under the leadership of Butler and
Brant, were completely routed. After the battle was
over, and the different divisions of the army were col
lected, "we saw ourselves," says Gano, "surrounded
by a large field of Indian corn, pumpkins, squashes,
beans, &c, which was no unpleasant sight to soldiers
who were hungry as we were. Here General Sullivan
displayed his generalship by putting the army on half
allowance, that we might more effectually secure the
victory by pursuing the Indians. Our success and the
exhortation of our officers induced the soldiery to a
cheerful compliance, and they consequently sent up a
loud huzza. An Irishman observing this, said he had
been a long time in the British army, and some time in
the service of America, but he never heard soldiers cry
huzza for half allowance before ; however, as they all
had, he would," and shouted lustily.
Scattering the Indians from its path, and burning
their towns as it advanced, the army at last reached
the point of its destination, the beautiful Genesee

REVISITS HIS FAMILY. 269
Flats. Here it encamped over night, and in the
morning, while Gano stood looking over the amazing
fields of waving corn that spread away on every side, he
heard the heavy boom of cannon sullenly swelling over
the western wilderness. It was the morning gun of
the English at Niagara, whither the Indians were sup
posed to be fled. Laying waste those vast fields lipe foY
the sickle — the Indians' only hope for the coming win
ter — the army took up its retrograde march for Easton.
" But here," says Gano, " I must not forget to men
tion a circumstance peculiarly pleasing to me. Two or
three young soldiers were under great distress of mind
concerning their souls, and frequently came to see and
converse with me."
As he witnessed the destruction of the grain, and
imagined the despair of the Indians when they should
return and see their fields laid waste, and think of the
sufferings that awaited them in the coming winter — -
the righteous punishment for obeying the orders of
a tyrannical king — a text often occurred to him
which he one day mentioned to General Sullivan.
" They shall walk through them ; be an hungry and
curse their God and king, and look upwards." The
general said/ " We will have a sermon from that text,
and when we arrive at Easton you shall preach it."
After the return of the army Gano obtained a fur
lough in order to visit his family. The next winter
the division to which he was attached encamped near
Newbury, and as his family were at Warwick, not far
distant, he was at home a considerable part of the
time.

270 JOHN GANO.
When Washington collected the army in New Jer
sey, and began to erect large ovens, every one supposed
he designed to attack the British in New York. But
the combined armies, French and American, suddenly
broke up their camps and made that forced march into
Virginia, by which Cornwallis was shut up at Glou
cester Point and compelled to capitulate. Gano, with
others, was so taken by surprise at this sudden move
ment that he was wholly unprepared to march, having,
he said, " but one change of linen." Stating his des
titute condition to General Clinton, he asked leave of
absence to get more. But the general refused his re
quest, and said he must go on at all events with the
division. Luckily, when they arrived in Newark, he
found an old lady who had been a member of his
church in New York. "I told her," he says, "my
situation, and she furnished me what was needful for
the campaign." The army was hurried on at the top
of its speed, but when Clinton's division reached Bal
timore, his aid was taken sick, and he asked Gano to
remain behind with him till he was able to proceed.
He did so, and in speaking of the event says, " The
major's anxiety to follow the army retarded his re
covery. However, he attempted it, and set out, but
after one or two days he was obliged to lay by. In a
day or two we set off again, but did not reach the army
before the British capitulated. However, we partook
of the joy with our brethren." That "joy of the
brethren" was a true "joy." Without were shouts,
acclamations and the boisterous exultation of the en
thusiastic soldiers, but within, among the noble chap-

REMOVES TO KENTUCKY. 271
lains of that army were devout thanksgivings, humble,
grateful prayers, and tears of joy too deep for utter
ance. Mr. Gano returned to Newbury, where the army
erected huts to live in during the winter, and one larger
than the rest for a place of public worship on the Sab
bath. Here three services a day were held, the chap
lains from each brigade preaching in rotation.
Thus passed the winter, while rumors of peace filled
the land with hope and delight. In the spring the
British evacuated New York, and Gano returned to
the city, to find his house dilapidated and plundered.
His scattered congregation, such as were living, soon
returned, and he settled down once more to his pas*-
toral labors. He continued here for some time, but
attracted by representations made to him of the grow
ing state of Kentucky, and hoping to relieve himself
from debt which he saw no way of canceling in his
present position, he removed thither in 1781, much to
the disappointment and regret of his church. He set
tled near Frankfort, where he died in 1804, in the
seventy-fifth year of his age. A fall from his horse in
1798, followed by a paralytic shock, rendered him a
cripple the last six years of his life, but he never
ceased his labors— sometimes preaching while lying on
his back. Calm and resigned, he saw death approach
without a terror, and to a friend who asked him if he
wanted to go home and be with Christ, he faintly,
sweetly answered, " Yes." This was the last utterance
of his lips on earth, and the Christan and patriot passed
to that better land reserved for the people of God.

272 JOHN GANO.
True to his country, true to his high office, true to his
God, he went through the trying scenes of the Revo
lution, and through life honored, respected and loved
by all who knew him, and now sleeps with those
whose names are inscribed in the hearts of their
countrymen.

CHAPTER XXVI.
CHARLES CUMMINGS.
An Irishman by Birth. — Settles in Virginia. — Enters the Ministry. — Fights
the Indians. — Goes armed to nis Church. — Takes the Lead in the political
Movements of the People. — Chaplain to the Army in the Expedition
against the Cherokees. — His Death.
Charles Cummings was an Irishman by birth, but
coming in early manhood to this country received his
theological education here. He located in Virginia,
where he studied divinity, and being licensed to preach
in 1767, settled at North Mountain, Augusta county.
In 1772 he received a call from the people of Holston,
embracing the congregations of Sinking Spring and
Ebbing Spring. At this time the Indians were very
troublesome in the neighbourhood, and during the
summer months^he people were obliged to collect in
the forts for safety. In 1776 Mr. Cummings' family
being in one of the forts, he, with a servant and
wagon and three neighbors, went one day to a farm
not far distant on an errand, when they were attacked
by a party of Indians. The first intimation they had
of the presence of the savages was a volley from the
woods bordering the road, which tumbled the driver
from his seat. Mr. Cummings and his companions
immediately returned the fire, and a sharp skirmish
followed. In a few minutes, however, two of the
12*

274 CHARLES CUMMINGS.
neighbors fell mortally wounded. The Indians being
under cover, Mr. Cummings saw that to remain longer
where they were would be certain death, and turning
to his servant told him to follow him, and leading the
way, charged boldly into the bushes. The savages,
surprised at the sudden onset, broke cover with a fierce
yell. They did not flee, however, but turned furiously
on their assailants. At this critical moment, when his
fate seemed hopeless, Mr. Cummings heard a shout in
the road near him. Those in the fort had heard the
firing, and knowing at once that the little party was
attacked, hastily sent out a detachment to its relief.
Coming up on a run it had arrived just as the Indians
turned on Mr. Cummings and his servant. It soon
finished the unequal fight.
The war with the mother country, which had already
commenced, set the entire frontier in a blaze, and the
congregation of Mr. Cummings found themselves so
surrounded with dangers that when they assembled for
worship on the Sabbath they locked up their houses
and took their families with them to church. All
along the beautiful valley, groups would be seen — (the
men armed) — slowly and cautiously gathering to the
house of prayer. Last of all came the pastor, mounted
on his dun horse, his rifle on his shoulder, and his am
munition belt buckled to his side. Arriving at the
meeting-house, he would fasten his horse to a tree and
take a short walk by himself wrapped in meditation.
When the congregation was all assembled — each man
seated with his rifle by his side — he would enter the
church, and walking solemn] v through the double line

ON COMMITTEE OF SAFETY. 275
of steel mount the steps of the pulpit, and standing
his rifle in the corner, lay aside his powder flask, and
commence the services of the day.
He took a leading part in all patriotic movements
of his congregation, and when the freeholders of Fin-
castle county met to consult on the measures they
should adopt in the perilous condition of affairs, he
was the first man named on the committee appointed
to draw up an address to the Continental Congress.
He was also chairman of the committee of safety, of
Washington county. Known throughout the entire
region for his daring courage, as well as for his sterling
piety, when the first army was organized to penetrate
Tennessee and attack the Cherokees, he was chosen its
chaplain, and shared all the perils and hardships of
that march through the wilderness.
He died in 1812, in the eightieth year of his age.

CHAPTER XXVII.
DANIEL McCALLA.
His Birth. — Graduates at Princeton when eighteen years of age. — Studies
foe the Minibtry. — Settles in Pennsylvania. — Appointed Chaplain under
General Thompson. — Is taken Prisoner in the Attack on " Three Rivees."
— Thrown into a Prison Ship. — His Sufferings and Fortitude. — Released
on Parole. — Flees to Virginia. — Settles in South Carolina. — His Death.
Daniel McCalla was born at Neshaminy, Pa., in
1748. Fond of study, and gifted with a fine intellect,
he was able to enter Princeton College when only four
teen years of age, and graduated in his nineteenth
year. He did not immediately commence the study
of his profession, but took charge of an academy in
Philadelphia, where he remained for some time. He
kept the ministry, however, constantly in view, and
in 1772 was licensed to preach, and soon after settled
over the united congregations of New Providence and
Charleston, in Pennsylvania. But before the year of
his ordination closed, blood had flowed at Lexington
and Concord, and he saw that the long dreaded con
flict had come. He had watched the approaching
storm with the deepest interest, and in and out of the
pulpit proclaimed the duty of resistance, and aroused
the martial spirit of his hearers ; and now when the
war had actually commenced, he could not remain at
home an idle spectator. Offering his services to Con
gress, he was appointed by that body chaplain to the

ATTACK ON THREE RIVERS. 277
troops under General Thompson, which had been or
dered to Canada.
In the unfortunate attack on the British at Three
Rivers he was made prisoner. Gen. Thompson, at the
head of fourteen hundred men, had been ordered by
Sullivan to join St. Clair, and proceed to this place, and
if on a close inspection he should consider it advisable,
to attack it. The force, under his command, about two
thousand strong, dropped down the river in the night
and drifting noiselessly by the British vessels that lay
at anchor in the stream, rapidly approached the post.
Thompson hoped to reach it before daylight and carry
it by surprise, but, contrary to his expectations, he did
not arrive till nearly sunrise. He had scarcely com
menced landing when the rolling of the drum, beating to
quarters, told him that he was discovered. Seeing that
an open battle was now inevitable, he hastily marshalled.
his troops on the shore and prepared to advance. But
to move direct on the place, he discovered, would expose
his column to a raking fire from some vessels that lay
in the stream, and he, therefore, made a circuit to
avoid them. In doing so became entangled in a deep
morass. While he was floundering through this, the
British not only got time to prepare for his reception
in front, but also to send a party to the rear and cut
off his return to the boats. McCalla waded through
the swamp side . by side with his General, and when
the latter took the desperate resolution to advance to
the attack, moved with him into the fire. A sharp
conflict followed, but it was plain to the most unprac
tised eye how it must terminate, and that the enterprise

278 SAMUEL M. CALLA.
was a failure. They could not advance, while the
retreat to the boats being cut off, it was equally impos
sible to fall back. Finding themselves thus blocked
in before and behind, and exposed to a destructive fire,
which was rapidly thinning their ranks, the main body
plunged into a swamp near by, where the British did
not deem it prudent to follow them. Thompson, how
ever, with his chaplain and some two hundred others,
were taken prisoners. With their usual hatred of
"rebel parsons," (as they called them,) the British
threw this accomplished scholar and divine into a
loathsome prison ship, and subjected him to a treat
ment that would have disgraced savages. Crowded
into the hold with the sick and dying, breathing the
foulest air — made the companion of vermin, and com
pelled to perform the most menial offices, and asssailed
with jibes and insults, he lay for months on board this
filthy floating lazar-house. Food fit only for swine was
given him, and even this, his brutal captors begrudged
him so that he came near dying from starvation.
His fate was that of a martyr, and he bore it like one
— unsubdued, firm, and noble through all. At length,
apparently tired of the attempt to wear out the life of
this brave young chaplain, not yet thirty years of age,
they, in the latter part of the year, released him on
parole. Pale, wan, dirty, and in tatters, but with a
spirit unsubdued, he was led forth once more into the
free air. His form was bowed, though not with years,
but the fire in his eye was undimmed. Leaving
the spot where he had so long suffered a living
death, he returned to his congregation. He had re-»

SETTLED IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 279
sumed his charge, however, but a short time when he
was accused of having broken his parole, because he
publicly prayed for his befoved country, and for the
success of its armies. Finding that for this heinous
crime he was in danger of again being seized as a pris
oner, he left his congregation and fled into Virginia.
Chafing under the restrictions his parole placed on
his words and actions, he sought, and eventually ob
tained a release from it by an exchange of prisoners.
He* continued a warm supporter of the American
cause till the close of the war. He afterwards went
to South Carolina, and was settled in Christ Church
parish, near Charleston, where he remained a " dili
gent student and faithful pastor to the close of his
life." He suffered from a protracted disease, which it
is supposed was aggravated by the death of his only
child, the wife of Dr. Witherspoon, at the early age of
twenty-six. He lived to see the country, for which he had
labored and suffered, on the high road to prosperity,
and in the sixty-second year of his age, in perfect
peace, and in full confidence of a better life to come,
passed to his reward.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
JOHN WITHERSPOON, D. D
The Clergy as Statesmen. — Witherspoon a Scotchman by Birth. — His Early
Life. — Is licensed to preach. — Joins the Army of the Pretender. — Taken
Prisoner at the Battle of Falkirk. — His Eminence as a Theologian. — Is
elected President of Princeton College. — Flattering Reception in Tnis
Country.— Takes Sides wrm the Colonies. — Elected Member of the New
Jersey Legislature. — Scathing Attack of Goveenoe Franklin. — Elected
Member of Congress. — His Speech on the Declaration of Independence.—
His Great Services in Congress. — His Death.
The clergy of the country were found not only in the
pulpit and field upholding the cause of the American
Colonies, and in the ranks fighting for it, but also in
the counsels of the nation lending both the sanction
of their office and the ripened fruit of long years of
study to promote its success. Foremost among these
was Dr. Witherspoon, a Scotchman by birth, but in
every other respect an American patriot. He was born
in Yester, near Edinburgh, in 1722. Licensed to preach
when scarcely of age, he, in 1744, was presented with
the parish of Beith by the Earl of Eglinton. A short
time after he was ordained, the Pretender landed in
the north of Scotland, and the Highlanders rallying
with enthusiasm to his standard he moved southward.
Carried away by the general enthusiasm, young With
erspoon raised a corps of militia, and putting himself
at its head marched to Glasgow. He was taken pris
oner at the battle of Falkirk and confined in the castle

PRESIDENT OF PRINCETON COLLEGE. 281
of Donne, where he remained till after the terrible over
throw of the Pretender at the battle of Culloden. He
was then released, and returned to his ministerial labors.
He soon rose to eminence in his native country, and his
fame having reached this side of the water he was elected
president of Princeton College. Embarking in May,
1768, he, after a. long voyage, reached Philadelphia,
where he was received with great honor. His arrival
at Princeton was celebrated by an illumination of the
college and town, and the whole province shared in the
general joy felt at the accession of such a man to its seat
of learning. Inaugurated president in August, he de
voted himself with his accustomed energy to the duties
of his position, and soon gave a new impetus to the
cause of learning in the country, and elevated to a
higher rank at home and abroad the character of the
college. He threw himself with his accustomed ardor
into the contest between the Colonies and the mother
country, and at once took the position of leader of
the patriots in New Jersey, which he ever after main
tained. When Congress appointed a day of fasting and
prayer in May, 1776, Dr. Witherspoon preached a dis
course, entitled " The Dominion of Providence over the
Passions of Men," in which he went thoroughly into
the great political questions of the day. The sermon
being published, it was received with warm encomiums
in America, but denounced in Scotland, where it was
republished, with notes, and the author stigmatized
as a rebel and traitor. A few days after its delivery
the provincial Congress of New Jersey met, and

282 JOHN WITHERSPOON, D.D.
Witherspoon, who had been elected a member, took
his seat in it. Among its first acts was the passage
of an order requiring the governor to present himself
before it to answer for his conduct in opposing the
action of the colonists. He came and being escorted
into the hall by a military guard, assumed a haughty,
overbearing demeanor, and refusing to answer any ques
tions that were put to him, told the representatives of
the people that they were an illegal assembly, ignorant,
low bred men, wholly unfit and unable to devise any
measures for the public good, and deserved to be hung
as rebels. Witherspoon fixed his keen eye upon him,
and listened in suppressed scorn and indignation to his
vulgar, insolent tirade, and the moment he closed sprang
to his feet, and unbottling the stores of irony and sar
casm that had been rapidly filling, poured on the aston
ished representative of the king a rebuke so withering
that the boldest held his breath in astonishment. He
coolly reminded the governor of his illegitimate origin
and the early neglect of his education and well known
ignorance of all scientific and liberal knowledge, to show
with how little propriety he could denounce them as
ignorant, incapable men, and concluded by saying, in
his tone of bitterest sarcasm : " On the whole, Mr.
President, I think that Governor Franklin has made
us a speech every way worthy of his exalted birth and
refined education." When the vote was finally taken
on deposing the governor, his decided aye, left no doubt
of the course he meant to pursue. The day after this
high handed act he was elected, with five others, to
represent New. Jersey in the Continental Congress. He

SIGNS
joined it a few days before the Declaration of Inde
pendence, and among the lofty intellects assembled in
Independence Hall, in Philadelphia, he was among the
first. No doubt or vacillation marked his course.
Intrepid, resolute and far-seeing, he gave the whole
weight of his influence to the side of complete inde
pendence. When the "Declaration" was reported and laid
before Congress for their adoption and signature, every
one felt that a fearful crisis had come. Some true
patriots wavered. The step which should forever sep
arate them entirely from the mother country, and
plunge the land in a war the end of which no man
could foresee, was a momentous one to take, but the
hour of decision had arrived, and not only the fate of
a great nation, but of man — the world over — hung sus
pended on it. That august body felt the tremendous
responsibility that rested upon it, and a deep and
solemn silence reigned throughout the hall. In the
midst of it Witherspoon arose and said, " Mr. Presi
dent — That noble instrument on your table, which
insures immortality to its author, should be subscribed
this very morning by every pen in the House. He
who will not respond to its accents, and strain every
nerve to carry into effect its provisions, is unworthy
the name of freeman. Although these gray hairs
must descend into the sepulchre, I would infinitelxj
rather they should descend thither by the hand of the
executioner than desert at this crisis the sacred cause
of my country." The venerable man sat down, but
those great words continued to vibrato in each heart,

284 JOHN WITHERSPOON, D.D.
strengthening the firm, and giving courage to the
wavering. And when a timid member remarked that
the country was not ripe for such a declaration of
independence, Witherspoon replied, in a voice that
rung through the hall, " In my judgment, sir, ive are
not only ripe, but rotten." With an untremulous
hand, and a heart firm and steady, he put his name to
that immortal instrument. He continued a member
of Congress for six years, and became identified with
some of the most important measures adopted by that
body. He was a member of the Secret Committee,
and of the Board of War, and one of the most active
men in the various committees to which he was ap
pointed. He made a report to Congress of the cruel
treatment of prisoners by the British in New York,
and helped prepare a protest on the subject. He was
sent also to the head-quarters of the army to improve
the condition of the troops, and was constantly em
ployed in devising measures for the welfare of the
colonies. Although a member of Congress, he never
laid aside his ministerial character, but preached on
the Sabbath, and always wore his clerical robes in
Congress during its sittings. He wrote most of the
Congressional addresses to the country recommending
Fasts, etc. His " Thoughts on American Liberty,"
and his speeches in Congress against the prodigal issue
of paper money, and other State papers, are well known,
and can only be referred to here. In the darkest hour
his courage never faltered ; for, to a high, heroic spirit,
he added an unwavering trust in God, and a belief
that He would eventually enable us to triumph. Far-

IMMOVEABLE INTEGRITY. 285
seeing and sagacious, he seemed to anticipate evils
that escaped the observation of- others, and provided
against them. When Thomas Paine, though in thefresh
popularity of his " Crisis " was proposed as Secretary
to the Committee of Foreign Affairs, he strenuously
opposed his appointment, not deeming him, he said, a
safe man for the office. So, also, when Wilkinson made
his tardy appearance on the floor of Congress with the
standards sent to it by Gen. Gates, and a member
moved that the bearer be voted a costly sword for his
services, he, seeing through all this delay, and pene
trating the contemptible designs of him and Gates,
that afterward assumed more definite shape, to unseat
Washington as commander-in-chief, arose, and with an
emphasis and tone that pierced like a dagger, proposed,
in place of a sword, that the messenger should be
"rewarded with a pair of golden spurs."
It is impossible in a short sketch to give in detail a
history of his career in Congress. It is enough to say
that at the time it was the most august body of men
that ever sat in deliberation over the fate of a free
people, he, in intellect, integrity and influence, ranked
among the first ; and at a later period, when it became
degraded to a miserable cabal, the hot bed of conspira
cies and the fountain of all mischief, he stood " faith
ful among the faithless," one of the few noble columns
that towered unshaken amid the disorders and turbu
lence that for a time threatened to make that body a
hissing and bye-word in the nation. While it is well
for the reputation of many that composed it and for
that of the country at large that the journal for a long

286 JOHN WITHERSPOON, D. D.
period was destroyed, it is a pity, that, for such as he
and a few others, it was not preserved, to show their in
tegrity and patriotism in every trial and temptation.
With a presence like that of Washington that com
manded respect and awe, whenever he arose to address
Congress every eye was turned upon him. His sarcasm
was withering, and the boldest winced under it, while
he possessed a power in argument and a persuasive elo
quence which nothing could withstand, and that made
him the bulwark of liberty to the last. His duties as
a clergyman and those of a legislator he performed
with the same conscientiousness, and in them felt he
was equally doing God's service. He died the 15th of
November, 1794, in full possession of his faculties, and
in calm, sublime trust in the Saviour.
He was a voluminous writer and active worker to the
last. An edition of his works, comprising three octavo
volumes, was published in 1803, in Philadelphia, under
the supervision of Eev. Dr. Green, and one of nine
volumes duodecimo, in Edinburgh, in 1815. If the
pulpit of America had given only this one man to the
Eevolution, it would deserve to be held in everlasting
remembrance for the service it rendered the country.

CHAPTER XXIX.
DAVID AVERY.
His Birth and Character. — Converted.under Whitfield. — Leaves nis Trade
TO STUDY FOR THE MINISTRY. — ENTERS Dr. WHEELOCK'S ClIARITY SCHOOL. —
Graduates at Tale College. — Studies Divinity. — A Missionary among the
Indians. — Settled at Gaysboro, Vermont. — His Patriotism. — Raises a Com
pany and Marches to Boston. — Made Chaplain. — Noddle's Island. — Pres
ent at the Battle of Bunkee Hill. — Praying for Victory. — Accompanies
Washington through the Jerseys. — Wounded at Trenton. — At Valley
Forge. — At Ticonderoga. — At Bennington.— «His Death.
Mr. Avery was born in that part of Norwich, Con
necticut, now called Franklin, April 5th, 1746. His
parents, John and Lydia (Smith) Avery, were blessed
with a large family of children, though possessing but
limited means to provide for their education. Hence
David was apprenticed at an early age to a house-joiner
in his native town. Gentle and kind in his manners,
and with a heart full of tenderness, he had at the same
time a bold and fearless nature which, when roused, it
was dangerous to oppose. Soon after he commenced
his apprenticeship he heard the celebrated Whitfield
preach, who was then electrifying the country with his
eloquence, and stirring the hearts of men by his solemn
appeals and overwhelming application of divine truth
to the conscience. Young Avery went at first from
curiosity to hear one so distinguished for his eloquence,
but soon became deeply impressed with the truths he
uttered, and eventually embraced religion. Ardent and

288 DAVID AVERY.
resolute in every thing he undertook, he wished to de
vote his life to the services of his Master in a more
direct and efficient manner than he thought he should
be able to do by pursuing his trade, and he resolved, if
he could obtain the means, to educate himself to be
come a minister of the gospel. Applying to his parents
for aid he was met with the disheartening answer that
it was out of their power to help him. He then turned
to his elder brothers and begged them to loan him the
necessary money to make a beginning, but was again
disappointed. Thrown back upon his own resources,
he nevertheless did not despair, but went resolutely to
work at his trade till he obtained money sufficient to
buy himself a stock of clothing, and then entered Dr.
Eliezer Wheelock's Indian Charity School, situated in
that part of Lebanon now known as Hebron. Apply
ing himself energetically to the task of fitting himself
for college, he made the rapid advancement which young
men of intellect invariably do who feel that they are
to be the artificers of their own fortune. It was here
that he became familiar with the Indian character, a
knowledge that fitted him so admirably to act, as he
afterwards did, as a missionary to the Indians of Cen
tral New York. He paid his expenses by spending
a portion of the year in teaching the Indians the
rudiments of an English education. While at Dr.
Wheelock's he made the acquaintance of the notorious
Brandt, of whom he afterwards was accustomed to
speak as a lad of keen intellectual powers and well
fitted to rule the Indians. At that time, however, he
said, he gave no indications of the cruelty that subse-

SETTLED IN VERMONT. 289
quently disfigured his character. After remaining at
Dr. Wheelock's two years he entered the freshman
class of Yale College. This was in 1765. In the
same class were the afterwards celebrated Timothy
Dwight and Dr. Strong, of Hartford, both of whom
became chaplains in the army. Noted for his studious
habits, he passed successfully through the first two
years of his college life. A portion of his junior year
was spent among the Six Nations as a missionary. He
stood high in the estimation of all who knew him, and
when he graduated received with his baccalaureate an
honorary degree from Dartmouth. After finishing his
collegiate course he entered on the study of divinity
with Dr. Wheelock, of Hanover, New Hampshire.
Receiving his ordination in 1773, he spent a year or
more with Dr. Kirkland among the Oneida Indians.
Leaving here he went to Long Island, where he
preached with much success. In his diary kept at this
time he says, " Preached at Sag Harbor a New Year's
sermon. People solemn. I desire to begin the year
with God. Lord ! let me spend and be spent for
Thee ! Dispose of me as Thou pleasest ; send me
where Thou pleasest. Let me have no will of my own,
or let my will be Thine."
He afterwards removed to Gaysboro, Vermont, where
he was settled at the breaking out of the Revolution.
When the news of the battle of Lexington reached
this quiet place tbe inhabitants were filled with the
most intense excitement. To the noble souled pastor,
however, it came Eke a trumpet call to the soldier in
battle. He saw at once that the hour big with fate to
13

290 DAVID AVERY.
the Colonies had come, and kindling with the lofty
patriotism that filled the hearts of so many, as the
tidings of that first fierce conflict was borne with the
tap of the drum by swift riders to the remotest limits
of the Colonies, he at once decided to do what lay in
his power to help on the glorious cause of liberty. The
very next Sabbath, to the astonishment of his congre
gation, he preached his farewell sermon, telling them
that God would take care of them — as for himself he
was going to join the army. It was a solemn day to
all, and when the services were closed each turned
away, filled with new thoughts, new fears and new
hopes. But the impressive scene was not yet over, the
patriotic pastor had no intention of going alone to the
army. He knew that beside encouragement in the day
of trial and ministrations to the sick, the wounded and
dying, it needed stout arms and good muskets for the
day of battle. So after the congregation was dismissed,
he stood on the steps of the church and summoned
them'to listen to another address. He had performed
the duties of the sanctuary, and he now wished to per
form those of a patriot. He spoke of the contest that
had begun — of the righteousness of their cause, and
the pressing need of soldiers if they would maintain
their rights. He said it was God's cause, and harangu
ing them like a prophet of old summoning the children
of Israel to battle, he earnestly besought them to lay
off at once the trappings of husbandry, and leaving
their untilled fields, gird on the weapons of war and
become reapers of men. Their bleeding country, he
said, called on them in pleading accents, and he en-

MARCHES TO CAMBBIDGE. 291
treated them by every motive of patriotism, and as
they valued Hberty and abhorred slavery, not to turn a
deaf ear to her cry. It was a noble, soul-stirring spec
tacle, that earnest servant of God calling on his parish
ioners to leave wives and children and parents and
follow him to the field of battle. His burning words
fell on hearts already on fire with patriotism, and that
quiet Sabbath day among the hills became a scene of
thrilling excitement. Twenty of his parishioners re
sponded to his call, and shouldering their muskets
started on foot with him for Boston. They chose
him captain, and marching rapidly forward reached
Northampton Saturday night. The rumor of his
coming soon spread through the town, and next day
a large congregation assembled to hear him preach.
One would give a good deal at this day to possess that
sermon. His patriotic fervor was so contagious that
volunteers came eagerly forward and enrolled them
selves in his little company. In the meantime the
clergymen in the vicinity of his parish, sympathizing
deeply with him in his devotion to his country, met
together and agreed to supply his pulpit while he was
absent. The little band kept on their way, and on Saturday
the 29 th of April arrived in camp at Cambridge. The
troops assembled to receive the "reverend captain and
his men," as they were called, for the spirited example
encouraged the hearts of all. The next day being the
Sabbath, a temporary stage was erected in the area of
Cambridge College by turning up a rum hogshead, from
which Eev. Dr. Langdon, president of Harvard College,

292 DAVID AVERY.
preached a sermon from 1st Timothy, vi. 12, " Fight the
good fight of faith," &c. In the afternoon Mr. Avery
preached from Nehemiah, iv. 14, " And I looked, and
rose up, and said unto the nobles and rulers, and to the
rest of the people, Be not ye afraid of them. Eemem-
ber the Lord, which is great and terrible, and1 fight for
your brethren, your sons and your daughters, your
wives and your homes."
With such kind of men and such kind of appeals
was the cause of freedom upheld and borne onward ;
and yet this conduct of Mr. Avery in collecting and
leading on troops in person, and of others like him,
passes unnoticed or is merely alluded to incidentally,
while the action of town committees and the adoption
of patriotic resolutions by civilians receive the most
earnest consideration. " These things ought ye to have
done, and not left the other undone."
Mr. Avery, soon after his arrival at head-quarters,
was assigned to Col. Sherb urn's regiment, in which he
instituted a regular course of daily religious service.
Besides the performance of these public duties he
used to go from tent to tent and read the word of God —
talk with the farmer-soldiers, listen to their tales of
distress, and relieve them whenever in his power. The
camp and bustle of war were strange to these men —
they had come from quiet homes in the valleys and on
the hill-sides, and from the family altar and the house
of God ; and the presence of such a minister was a
comfort and a blessing that at this day we can not
appreciate. He prayed with them, and helped the
youthful to overcome the temptations that always

FIGHT ON NODDLE'S ISLAND. 293
surround the soldier, and boldly rebuked sin, and
strove in every way to make the camp a camp of the
Lord, like the " tents of Israel," over which God's
blessing should hover. He does not tire of his ardu
ous work, but writes home that he is glad that he has
espoused the cause of his country.
In his diary he makes the following entry : — " May
11th — A provincial fast — preached on Cambridge com
mon, the troops appeared quite serious. May 29 th—
Went on a volunteer expedition to Noddle's Island ;
a brisk skirmish ; some of our men killed ; stood
guard two hours that night after praying and exhort
ing with the expedition."
This brief note is all that he gives us to show what
part he took in it. Noddle's Island, near Boston, and
Hog Island were covered with hay and cattle, sheep
and horses, and the Americans wished to prevent them
from falling into the hands of the enemy. So about
eleven o'clock in the forenoon of the 27th, a party of
twenty or thirty men passed from Chelsea to Hog
Island, and thence to Noddle's Island, and commenced
driving off the cattle. The British, observing it, sent
a schooner and sloop, with a party of marines in boats,
to capture them. The Americans seeing them ap
proach, and finding that they had not time to drive
off all the stock, commenced shooting them, and thus
destroyed great numbers. As the hostile vessels drew
near they retreated to Hog Island, and cleared it of
between three and four hundred sheep, and a large
number of cows and horses. They then drew up on
Chelsea Neck to receive the enemy. In the meantime

294 DAVID AVERY.
the American officers at Cambridge had called for
volunteers to reinforce the gallant little band that had
done so nobly, and now stood at bay. Avery, with
the brave Warren, was among the volunteers. Put
nam took command of the detachment, and hurrying
forward with two four pounders, reached the threatened
point at nine o'clock in the evening. A brisk fire was
immediately opened on the vessels, which was kept up
till eleven, when the crew of the schooner finding it
too hot, abandoned the contest. The firing then
ceased, and it was thought advisable to make no fur
ther movement till day-light should reveal the position
of the enemy. Avery took advantage of the cessation
of the conflict to exhort the little group of patriots,
and pray with them. He then shouldered his musket
and kept watch for two hours. At day break they
boarded the schooner, and carrying off four four-
pounders and twelve swivels set her on fire. In this
skirmish the English lost twenty-five in killed and
wounded, while the Americans had only four wounded,
and those slightly.
In the battle of Bunker Hill, as it is called, but
which it is well known took place on Breed's Hill, this
brave, godly man stood on Bunker Hill in full sight
of the conflict, and as Moses, who stood on the hill,
and held up his hands that Joshua might smite the
Amalekites, so he, while the adjacent heights and
shores were shaking to the thunder of cannon, and the
flames of burning Charlestown were rolling heaven
ward, lifted up his hands and prayed that God would
give victory to the Americans. Breed's Hill, dimly

BURNING OF CHARLESTOWN. 295
seen through the rolling smoke of battle, amid which
flashed the deadly vollies, and gleamed the glittering
lines, and in the back-ground this patriotic divine,
with upraised hands beseeching Heaven for victory,
would make an appropriate picture of that bloody
prelude to the revolution. He thus notes the event in
his diary ; — " Early in the morning of June 18th the
enemy attacked our entrenchments, but was driven
back. After repeated trials they succeeded in dislodg
ing the troops. In the retreat many of Col. Sher-
bourne's men were killed. My dear friend, Dr. Warren,
was shot dead. I stood on a neighboring hill (Bunker)
with hands uplifted, supplicating the blessing of Hea
ven to crown our unworthy arms with success. To us
infantile Americans, unused to the thunder and car
nage of battle, the flames of Charlestown before our
eyes — the incessant play of cannon from their shipping
— from Boston, and their wings in various cross direc
tions, together with the fire of musketry from more
than four times our number, all heightened the majes
tic terrors of the field, exhibiting a scene most awful
and tremendous, but amid the perils of the dread
encounter the Lord was our rock and fortress."
" The enemy burned Charlestown that they might
be benefited by the smoke."
The night that followed this momentous day he
spent in dressing the wounds of the soldiers and ad
ministering such spiritual consolation as the suffering
needed. Day after day he devoted himself wholly to
the wounded, and glided from cot to cot cheering the
wretched, and pointing those who felt that death was

296 DAVID AVERY.
near, to the Saviour of sinners. He notes in his diary
that the excessive duties preyed upon his health, but
expresses the belief that God will sustain him.
He stood near the great elm tree when Washington
drew his sword beneath it and took command of the
Continental army. Not long after, Dr. Franklin arrived
to make an examination of the army by order of Con
gress, and Mr. Avery being introduced to him, a warm
affection sprung up between the two, which lasted till
death. His zeal and patriotism made him a prominent
man in the army, and Washington often invited him to
dine at head quarters. He was frequently detailed at
his own request to accompany expeditions into the ad
jacent country, for he courted toil and hardship in the .
cause which lay so near his heart. He stood in the
ranks on Dorchester Heights, the morning after they
had been occupied, and when he saw the British ships
heave their anchors and move down the bay, his ex
ultation burst all bounds, and he exclaimed trium
phantly, " Give God the praise, for He hath done it."
When the army took up its march for New York he
accompanied it, and saw with a breaking heart the de
feat of the Americans at the battle of Long Island.
After it was over he devoted all his time to the sick,
caring for their wants and praying with them ; and
many a soul passed from earth on the prayers of this
good man.
He was beside Washington in his melancholy retreat
through the Jerseys, and says, " The lustre of our com
mander's presence and magnanimity gave a charm to
our gloomy misfortunes — it animated and raised our

WINTER AT VALLEY FORGE. 297
spirits above the power of undue fear. The people of
the country, however, were not so happily fortified
against the shock of this sudden change of affairs, and
sunk dejected." He accompanied him in his march on
Trenton — breasted the snow and hail like the common
soldier that wintry morning, and when the thunder of
cannon and rattle of musketry awakened the sleeping
Hessians, marched with him into the thickest of the
fight. Feeling how fearful was the crisis that had
come, he, after lifting an invocation to God, seized the
musket of a soldier that fell byhis side, and mounting
a rum hogshead that stood in the street, the contents
of which had helped to deepen the slumbers of the foe
on that Christmas eve, fired away at the confused
and hurrying masses of the enemy. In the 'darkness
and tumult of the fight he received a contusion on the
right hip, which laid him up for several weeks ; and he
who had so long ministered to others was compelled to
be ministered unto. On his recovery he rejoined the
army, and shared with the soldier the battles and
marches that followed. He hutted with it at Valley
Forge during all that terrible winter in which troops
furnished an example of devotion to their general and
a love of country that has no parallel in history — nobly
sustained the courage of the men, and showed a spirit
of self-devotion that called forth the warmest commen
dations. Like Washington, he seemed superior to the
weakness of common mortals, and exhibited the same
serene courage, aud wore the same calm aspect in that
dark hour, which filled others with despondency, that
he did when every thing was promising and hopeful.

298 DAVID AVERY.
He was awhile attached to the northern army, and
¦worked with his own hands in building those fortifica
tions at Ticonderoga that afterwards fell before the
advancing legions of Burgoyne.
On his return he was warmly received by Washing
ton, who saw in himf the embodiment of all those
qualities he wished in a chaplain. Intrepid and fear
less in battle, unwearied in his attentions to the sick
and wounded — not only nursing them with care, but as
faithful to their souls as though they were members of
his own parish — with a love for his country so strong
that it became a passion — cheerful under privations,
and ready for any hardship — never losing in the tur
moil of the camp that warm and glowing piety which
characterizes the devoted minister of God — he might
well have a place near to his great chieftain's heart.
During this period we find him detached from Sher-
bourne's regiment and joined to that of Colonel Pat
terson. He knew Arnold well, and was very active in the
efforts made to capture him. He was by the side of
Washington when he signed the death warrant of
Andre, and saw that ill-fated officer hung on the hill
behind Piermont.
In every battle he bore himself so nobly that his
conduct elicited universal admiration, while his devo
tion to the wounded after it was over won the hearts
of both friends and foes. At the battle of Bennington,
like the good parson Allen, he exposed himself to the
hottest of the fire, yet he refers to it only to say, " The
arm of the Lord protected me through dangers seen

SETTLED AT BENNINGTON. 299
and unseen." For his services in and after this bloody
engagement, he received a vote of thanks from the
Governor and Council of the State.
After the war was over, we find him quietly settled
in Bennington, gladly exchanging, the turmoil of the
camp and the horrors of war for the more congenial
pursuits of a pastor.
Thus having nobly helped to wrest the land from
the hand of tyranny, he sat down under the tree of
liberty, and faithful in his parish as he had been in the
field, passed peacefully on to a tranquil death, and the
reward of the true patriot and faithful minister of
Christ.

. CHAPTER XXX.
ISRAEL EVANS.
His Character.— Ordained Chaplain in the Army.— Remains with the Nsw
Hampshire Brigade through the War.— Stands beside Washington at
Yorktown. — Anecdote of Him and Washington. — His Sermon on the Field
of Battle, — Settled at Concord, New Hampshire. — His Death.
There is perhaps no chaplain of the Revolution
who followed its fortunes so steadily from its com
mencement to its close, sharing all its perils and its
hardships, yet about whom so little is known, as the
subject of this sketch. He was a native of Pennsyl
vania, and at the commencement of the struggle be
tween the Colonies and Great Britain was a warm,
uncompromising patriot. Having chosen his profes
sion before the breaking out of hostilities, he did not
consider it his duty to relinquish it, though from what
is known of his character there is but little doubt that,
had he been an ordinary citizen, he would have entered
the army as a soldier. He was by nature better fitted
for the stern duties of a military life, its strict sub
ordination and exact method, and for the battle field,
than for the quiet routine of a pastor's calling. Hu
mility was not a prominent trait in his character, and
the exactitude and unbending rules of his military
experience did not tend to make him yielding and
tractable. When the war commenced he offered himself as

BEFORE YORKTOWN. 301
chaplain to the army, and was ordained as such in
1776, in Philadelphia, at the age of twenty-nine.
From 1777 to the close of the war he was attached
the whole time to the New Hampshire brigade. Of
the fierce battles he witnessed, the long marches he
made, and want and privation he endured, he apparently
kept no record ; and hence the incidents and details of
this most interesting portion of his life are forever lost
to posterity. We catch a glimpse of him in the fierce
conflicts at Saratoga, hear his voice as he addresses the
western army after their return from the expedition
against the Indians, sympathize with him as he pours
his sad lament over the body of his dead commander,
Gen. Poor, at Hackensack, — but all between has been
swept by the wave of oblivion. He not only shared
the sufferings of the army at Valley Forge, but was
of great service in encouraging and cheering the sol
diers when ready to yield to despair. His imperturba
ble coolness in battle was proverbial, and he rather
sought than shunned the post of danger.
At the battle of Yorktown he was standing beside
Washington when a cannon ball in full sweep struck
the earth at his very feet and sent a shower of dirt
over his hat. Washington glanced at the chaplain to
see how he took it, but the latter was as imperturbable
as himself. Without stirring from the spot, he took
off his hat, and seeing it covered with sand, said qui
etly as he held it up, " See here, General." Washing-
ington smiled and replied, " Mr. Evans, you had better
take that home and show it to your wife and children."
The chaplain smiled in return, and replacing it on his

302 ISRAEL EVANS.
head turned his attention once more to the cannonade
that was shaking the field like an earthquake.
After the surrender of Cornwallis he preached a
sermon in the open air to the assembled brigade, tak
ing the one hundred and fifteenth Psalm for his text,
beginning, "Not unto us, 0 Lord, not unto us, but
unto thy name give glory for thy mercy and for thy
truth's sake. Wherefore should the heathen say, where
is now their God.
But our God is in the heavens, He hath done what
soever He pleased."
After tracing the hand of God from the commence
ment of the struggle through all the changing fortunes
that followed, he bursts into thanksgiving for the glo
rious victory they had just achieved, and exclaims : —
"For these and innumerable instances of public mercy
we desire most heartily to praise God, and say, { Not
unto us, 0 Lord, not unto the wisdom of our counsel
ors, though their counsels and wisdom have surpassed
our most sanguine expectations. Not unto our com
manders and armies, though they have behaved them
selves so valiantly, and conducted wisely — yet give
glory not unto them but unto the name of God, for
He it was who taught our Senators wisdom, and girded
our soldiers with courage and strength. It is the
Lord our God who has fought for us in every success
ful battle, and has hitherto supported our righteous
cause against those who hate us without any just rea
son. Surely, we may say, 0 sing unto the Lord a new
song, for He hath done marvellous things, His right
hand and His holy arm hath gotten Him the. victory-.

SERMON AFTER VICTORY. 303
The Lord hath made known his salvation, His right
eousness hath he openly showed in the sight of our
enemies. He hath remembered His mercy toward us.
All the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our
God." He thanks God for the aid of the French — for-
giving us good men in Congress, and then exclaims,
" Oh give thanks to the Lord our God for our brave
General, the Commander-in-chief of all our armies.
A General possessed of such unparalleled fortitude and
patience, and not more patient than meek, and virtu
ous, and humane. And if I may be permitted to say
any thing of a character which so much outshines the
brightest encomium that writers can offer, I will ven
ture to say that if you search for faults in the conduct
of that true patriot and most excellent hero, you will
find none unless you call it a fault to exercise compas
sion and lenity toward those negligent and guilty
offenders, who, by their sloth and inattention to the
best orders, counteract the wisest plans, and frustrate
the best schemes of military discipline and policy.
" Methinks I see the illustrious Washington, with but
two or three thousand men retreating indeed before
ten or twelve thousand of the enemy, but checking
their progress through the country, and when reinforc
ed by the brave militia, turning upon the enemy, kill
ing some, capturing many, and confining them during
the whole winter within narrow bounds. Oh, Ameri
cans, give glory to God for such a faithful hero ! Then
you saw him greatest when most without your aid.
Collected himself he greatly resolved with his few
faithful followers to be the barrier of liberty or fall in

304 ISRAEL EVANS.
its defence." He then speaks of Saratoga, describes
Arnold as a thunderbolt on that day, and winds up by
referring to the coming winter, which may demand
great sacrifices, and exhorts them not to be startled by
anticipated sufferings, but bear all like men, and to
refrain from profane swearing and all ungodly acts, and
live the lives of true Christians.
It was a thrilling spectacle — that war-worn chaplain
standing on the bloody field of Yorktown — the wreck
of the fight strewn all around him, and lifting his
peans of praise to Washington, and his shout of
thanksgiving to God. The excited soldiers, fresh from
the field of their fame, and elated with their great
victory, could scarcely refrain from sending up their
thrilling huzzas when the eloquent chaplain, passing
from his review of the troubled past, burst forth into
an eulogium of their gallant leader.
He published several of his sermons after the war,
all of which exhibit his stern, unyielding patriotism.
In 1789 he was ordained pastor of the church in
Concord, to which he became known by his connection
with the New Hampshire brigade.
His military career did not tend to make him the
most conciliating of pastors, and in 1797 he resigned
his charge, though he continued to reside in the place
till his death, in March, 1807, in the sixtieth year of
his age.

CHAPTER XXXI.
COTTON MATHER SMITH.
His Birth and Parentage. — A Teacher among the Indians. — Studies Theol
ogy. — Is Settled at Sharon, Conn. — Influence of the Clergy of Connect
icut IN BRINGING ABOUT THE REVOLUTION. — HlS VIEWS OF THE STRUGGLE
between the Colonies and Mother Country. — The Part he took in it. —
Patriotism of his Congregation. — Is made Chaplain, and Marches to
Tigondsroga. — His Devotion to the Sick. — Seized with TnE Camp Fever. —
Returns Home. — Invasion of Burgoyne. — His Sermon just before the
Final Victory at Saratoga. — Thrilling Scene. — His Character. — His
Death. Cotton Mather Smith was born in Suffield, Conn.,
Oct. 26th, 1731. His father was grandson of Eev.
Henry Smith, and his mother grand-daughter of the
celebrated Increase Mather. He graduated at Yale
College in 1751, after which he went to Hatfield for a
while, where he made a public profession of religion,
and immediately turned his attention to the ministry.
Before, however, he finished his course of theological
studies he accepted an invitation to take charge of a
school among the Indians in Stockbridge, Mass. Dr.
Sprague, in his " Annals of the American Pulpit,"
says of him in connection with this novel enterprise,
" He engaged in it with great zeal, and by his amiable
and winning manners, and especially by mingling with
the Indians in their athletic sports, he acquired a
commanding influence over them, and brought them
entirely within his control. He labored for them with
untiring diligence and with corresponding success, and

306 COTTON MATHER SMITH.
became a proficient in their language, while imparting
to them a knowledge of his own."
After completing his engagement he returned to
Hatfield and resumed his theological studies. He was
licensed to preach in 1753, and two years after settled
over the church of Sharon, Conn., and continued its
pastor through a long and useful life. A distinguished
descendant of Rev. Mr. Smith in furnishing me the
materials for this sketch, prefaces them with such forci
ble and true remarks on the " influence of the clergy
of Connecticut in making that little State take the
gallant stand she did in the revolution," that I quote
them entire. After showing that she might well be
called the " Lacedasmon of the confederation, since
that, small as she was, she furnished thirty-one thou
sand six hundred troops, or five thousand more than
Virginia and Pennsylvania, and far more than New
York," and that although she " had a hundred miles
of exposed sea coast, only three plundering expeditions
ever contaminated her soil, and these made no perma
nent occupation," and after speaking of the gallantry of
her sons at Bunker Hill, in covering the retreat — their
efforts in capturing " Ticonderoga with more than two
hundred cannon that proved of such vital importance
to the American cause in the siege of Boston " — of her
brave spirits, such as Knowlton and Hale, and others,
early martyrs to liberty — so well calculated to arouse
her energy and kindle her heroism, he says, " But the
most powerful element of revolutionary strength in
Connecticut was her Congregational clergy, and the
opinion may be expressed without fear of contradic-

NEW ENGLAND CLERGY. 307
tion, that to no class or order of men is the country so
much indebted for its national independence. Had
they preached a slavish and cowardly submission to
the royal will — had they declared it to be the first of
duties to honor the King, we should to-day have been
royal colonists of the British crown.
" The immense influence of the clergy for the first
century and a half is alike honorable to them and to
the people. Most of them who first emigrated into the
country were gentlemen of family and station, and had
good estates, which they freely spent in assisting their
poor brethren and parishioners in the numerous diffi
culties of making new settlements. They possessed a
great proportion of the literature of the colony, and
were the instructors of the flower of its youth. They
had given a striking evidence of their integrity and
self-denial in emigrating from their pleasant homes
into this distant land for the sake of religious liberty,
and their people reverenced them as exiles and fellow-
sufferers for the dearest of causes. No wonder that all
these circumstances combined to give them an uncom
mon influence over their hearers of every rank and
character. No wonder that the governors and mag
istrates and leading men of the land deemed them
worthy of all honor. They were consulted by the
legislature in all affairs of consequence, civil and
religious, and with civilians were appointed on com
mittees to advise and assist them in the most delicate
and important concerns of the commonwealth.
"With but little variation this continued down to
the epoch of the Eevolution, and in all the preparatory

308 COTTON MATHER SMITH.
movements towards the mighty struggle it was the in
fluence of her clergy more than any thing else that
caused the colony of Connecticut to act in one united
and harmonious phalanx. To the tyrannical edicts of
the throne, and the bitter and barbarous threats of the
lords and bishops in the English Parliament, they
responded from every pulpit, 'Down with Amalek.'
' The sword of tbe Lord and of Gideon.' ' Be strong,
that ye be not servants ; quit yourselves like men, and
fight.' It was owing to the clergy that New England
was not infested with tories like other provinces."
Of the twenty years of his parochial life — filled up
with usefulness — of his labors abundantly blessed — of
his kindly charities and devotion to the interests of his
people, the limits of this sketch will not allow me to
speak. As an instance of his self-sacrificing spirit, it
is necessary only to mention that once when the small
pox devastated his parish he never took off his clothes
for nearly three weeks, so untiring was his attendance
on the sick.
The crisis which the battle of Lexington precipitated
had long been foreseen by Mr. Smith. He had watched
the slow gathering of the clouds on the political hori
zon and knew what they portended. Feeling that a
struggle between the Colonies and mother country was
inevitable, he was not one of those who believed it
would result simply in a redress of grievances and a
restoration of the old relations. He knew the first re
sort to arms would rouse the old Puritan blood to a
pitch of excitement that would make the restraints of
loyalty like threads of gossamer, and he therefore for a

HIS FORESIGHT. 309
long time previous to it, by his pen, in private conver
sation and in the pulpit, gradually educated his con
gregation into the belief that when the Colonies should
rise in defence of their rights nothing short of a total
separation and a national independence must be looked
for. Fearful as such an issue seemed, he did not speak
of it despondingly, but with high courage and firm
faith. Not only was his pen as well as tongue devoted
to the cause of freedom in the way of essays, arguments
and addresses, but being gifted with poetic talent he is
supposed to have composed some of those spirit-
stirring odes with which his congregation were wont at
times to make the hills of Sharon ring.
" Let tyrants shake their iron rod,
And slavery clank her galling chains,
We fear them not, we trust in God,
New England's God forever reigns,''
would peal through the old meeting house till the
rafters shook with the lofty strain.
At the time the battle of Lexington took place Mr.
Smith's parish contained two thousand souls. This
number, according to the usual estimate, would give
about four hundred men capable of bearing arms, and
we find when the news of the battle reached the town
four hundred enrolled themselves in the mihtia, most
of whom saw more or less service during the war.
Ticonderoga being captured by Connecticut troops,
it was natural she should take pride in maintaining it.
Hence, in 1775, a detachment of militia of the State
was sent to garrison it, and operate under Schuyler,

310 COTTON MATHER SMITH.
who had command in Lake Champlain. The General
Assembly appointed Mr. Smith its chaplain, and
he marched with the troops to the theatre of war.
Though unused to a rough life, he endured cheerfully all
the hardships of the long march through the wilderness,
and during the rigorous campaign that followed shared
with the common soldier his privations and self-denials.
On the desolate shores of that forest-bound lake he
gave himself up to his work with an earnestness and
untiring zeal that extorted the admiration -of men and
officers, and won the lasting affection of General
Schuyler. Proaching was but a small part of his
labors. He was in constant attendance on the sick,
and moved like a good angel among the farmers and
mechanics who composed the militia, encouraging the
down-hearted, and infusing hope and cheerfulness
where despondency and sadness reigned.
He, however, overestimated his powers of endurance,
and towards the end of the campaign was seized
with the putrid or camp fever, which brought him to
death's door. But his good constitution at length
triumphed, though for a long while he either lay
helpless or was able only to. creep around the fortress.
Finding himself a confirmed invalid, he was compelled,
to his great regret ; to leave the army, and returned to
his parish. Although he soon afterwards resumed his
parochial duties, he never fully recovered from the
effects of this terrible illness. It did not, however,
quench the fire of his patriotism, and he saw that
every draft for men, money and provisions made on
his parish was promptly met. When the news of

CONFIDENT OF VICTORY. 311
Burgoyne's formidable invasion filled the land with so
much dread, he appealed to the patriotism of his con
gregation, and urged them to rally en masse to the call
of New York for volunteers.
Instead of sharing in the general despondency he
spoke of sure victory, and told them the time had now
' come to do or die, and if every man put his shoulder
to the work, God would make bare his arm for the
deliverance of His people. His hearers caught his
spirit, and seizing their fire-locks, streamed toward the
northern wilderness. So universal was the patriotic
response, that every man in the parish capable of bear
ing arms volunteered ; and the good pastor found his
congregation composed only of old men, women, and
children. It brought tears to many eyes as they look
ed over the half-filled pews, in which not an erect,
manly form was visible, when "the absent" were re
membered in the fervent prayers of the pastor.
At length the news of the drawn battle of the 19 th
of September was received. Then followed the long
and anxious interval between it and the final conflict
of the 7th of October, during which the country was
in a state of the most painful suspense. The next
breeze that swept from the north might bring the news
of the overthrow of the American army. The fears
as to the final result were greatly increased by the
knowledge that Sir Henry Clinton, at New York, was
fitting out a formidable expedition to force the pas
sage of the Hudson, and effect a junction with Bur
goyne, at Albany. Shauld this succeed, the struggle

312 COTTON MATHER SMITH.
to all human appearance would be over, and the sun
of liberty set.
The summer verdure slowly changed to its autumnal
tints, and October spread its dreamy atmosphere over
the mountains, and robed woods and fields with the
untold glories of the dying year, yet an ominous
silence brooded over the north. The crisis still delayed,
and the hours, so big with the fate of the colonies,
dragged wearily on, yet strong prayers ascended the
heavens daily and nightly for the untried farmers and
mechanics, who, in their homely apparel, were standing
resolutely in the Britons' path. Nothing was thought
of but the coming battle, and at the first dawn of
morning and in the last twilight of evening, anxious
eyes were strained along the road, down which the
messenger of good or evil tidings would come.
While public feeling was in this state of painful
excitement, Mr. Smith, one Sabbath day, took for his
text a part of Isaiah, xxi, 11, 12 : " Watchman, what
of the night ? The watchman said, The morning
cometh." The question in the first part of this pas
sage had been the daily, almost hourly, mental inquiry
for nearly a month of every one of that congregation,
and hence its appropriateness was keenly felt, but the
startling announcement, " the morning cometh," took
them by surprise, and they could not at first compre
hend its significance, or how it could be adapted to the
present gloomy prospect. Had he heard any good
news ? What had happened that he could say so
confidently, " the morning cometh ? " No, he had
nothing new to tell them, only to proclaim over again

BOLD PROPHECY. 313
his unshaken confidence in God's promises. He did
not attempt to conceal or lessen the calamities that
had befallen the country, nor deny that a fearful crisis
was at hand. He acknowledged that to human ap
pearance "clouds and darkness were round about
God's throne," but said that the eye of faith could
pierce the gloom. The throne was there, though wrap
ped in impenetrable darkness. In all the disasters that
had successively overwhelmed them, he traced the hand
of God, and declared. that to his mind they clearly in
dicated some striking interposition of divine providence
about to take place in their behalf. " Man's extremity
was God's opportunity." Our extremity had come,
and now was the time for Him " to make bare His
arm for the deliverance of His people."
Prophet-like, kindling with the vision on which the
eye of his faith rested, he boldly dropped the general
subject of God's faithfulness, and told his astonished
hearers that he believed they were on the point of
hearing extraordinary news of victory to our arms.
He would not wait for an indefinite future to prove
his faith to be well founded — he was willing to bring
it to the test of the present. They might judge
whether he was right or wrong, for, said he, " ' The
morning now cometh.' I see its beams already gilding
the mountain tops, and you shall soon behold its
brightness bursting over all the land." One cannot
imagine at this day the effect of such language uttered
by the minister of God in such a time of doubt and
anxiety and suspense. He ceased, and as he closed the
Bible, and exclaimed, " Amen ! so let it be," a silence
14

314 COTTON MATHER SMITH.
profound and death-like rested on the audience. Each
one seemed to feel as if an invisible presence was there
and some weighty announcement was at hand. Sud
denly the deep hush was broken by the distant clatter
of a horse's hoofs along the road. The sharp and rapid
strokes told of fierce riding and of urgent haste. They
knew at once what it meant. For days and weeks their
eyes had strained up the street that led northward to
catch sight of the messenger of good or evil tidings that
was hourly expected. He had come at last, and as
nearer, clearer, rang the sound of that wild gallop on
the listening ear, each one looked in mute and earnest
inquiry into his neighbor's face. Right on through the
jilace, straight for the meeting house, darted the swift
rider, and drawing rein at the door leaped from the
saddle, and leaving his foam-covered steed untended,
strode into the main aisle. On the deep silence that
filled the building, like a sensible presence, his armed
heel rang like the blows of a hammer. As he passed
along, a sudden paleness spread over the crowd of faces
turned with a painful eagerness towards him. But
looking neither to the right hand nor the left, the dread
messenger passed on, and mounting the pulpit stairs
handed the pastor a letter. Notwithstanding the good
man's faith, his hand trembled and an ashy hue over
spread his face as he reached out to receive it. " Bur
goyne has surrendered" were the first words that
met his eye, He staggered under them as under a
blow. The next moment a radiance like that of the
morning broke over his countenance, and he burst into
tears. Eising to read the incredible tidings, such a

HIS PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 315
tide of emotion flooded his heart that he could scarcely
utter them aloud. The audience sat for a moment
overwhelmed and stupefied, then, as their pastor folded
his hands and turned his eyes toward heaven in thank
ful prayer, impelled by a simultaneous movement they
fejl like one man on their knees and wept aloud. Sobs,
Bighs and fervidly murmured " amens" were heard on
every side, attesting the depth of their gratitude and
the ecstasy of their joy. "The morning had come,"
bright and glorious, and its radiance filled all the
heavens. The arrival of such news at the close of that sermon
was a strange coincidence, but the Eevolution is a his
tory of just such coincidences.
Mr. Smith was somewhat above the medium height,
of graceful bearing and an attractive personal presence.
Dr. Bobbins, of Hartford, in a letter to Dr. Sprague,
said of him : " His manners were remarkably polished,
so that he might have appeared to advantage even in a
court. They were a delightful compound of simplicity,
gracefulness and dignity ; while, on the other hand,
they were entirely free from hauteur or ostentation, and
he could make the humblest man in the community
feel at home in his company. In his intercourse with
his people and with society at large he was distinguished
for his prudence — he never performed an act or uttered
a word that was fitted needlessly to wound others, or to
impair the dignity or lessen the influence of his own
character. He possessed an exquisite sensibility, which
was sometimes a source of great pleasure to him, and
not unfrequently of no inconsiderable pain. His sense

316 COTTON MATHER SMITH.
of right and wrong was exceedingly nice, and with all
his mildness he was capable of dealing out severe re
proofs to obstinate offenders. An illustration of this
remark now occurs to me. He was sent, as were sev
eral of his brethren, at an early period, by the Litch
field County Association as a missionary to Vermont,
which was then but sparsely settled, and in some parts
by a population of rather an equivocal character. Some
of the inhabitants — I think Ethan Allen of infidel no
toriety was among them — took it in high dudgeon that
he should have come on such an errand, as if there was
some implication that they needed to be converted from
a state of. heathenism. They even attacked him in the
most rude and opprobrious manner in the public papers,
and he replied to their wanton attacks with dignified
severity. I remember that the closing words of his
answer, which certainly showed an indignant sense of
injury, were — 'The Lord rebuke thee, Satan.' "
After the Revolution Mr. Smith continued his paro
chial duties, a " devout and earnest Christian, and an
instructive and animated preacher." In 1805 he
preached his Half Century sermon to his people, from
the text, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart
in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." In
this sermon he stated that during his ministry he had
delivered " upwards of four thousand public discourses,
and more than fifteen hundred on funeral and other
special occasions." The next year he preached his last
sermon. A disease which had been gradually under
mining his constitution at length laid him prostrate.
He, however, lingered on for several months, suffering

HIS DEATH-BED TESTIMONY. 317
at times the most excruciating torture, yet he bore all
with the patience and calm resignation of a Christian
martyr. Two days before his death, in an interval of
pain, he spoke at length of the value of the Bible, de
clared what he believed to be its essential doctrines,
concluding his remarks with, "These things I have
preached to others, and these things I believe as fully
as that the Bible is the word of God, and this I believe
as fully as that the Son of God was made manifest in
the flesh, and this I believe as fully as that God gov
erns the world, and this I believe as fully as I believe
in my own present existence and approaching dissolu
tion. Lord, help mine unbelief." He spoke but little
after this, and on the morning of the 27th of Novem
ber, 1806, in the seventy-sixth year of his age, peace
fully and without a struggle sunk to rest.
He had six children, one of whom, John Cotton, has
borne a prominent part in the history of the nation.

CHAPTER XXXII.
JUDAH CHAMPION.
Judah Champion, the Pastor of Litchfield, Connecticut. — His Prayers foe
ms Country. — Extraordinary Scene in Church on the Arrival of News
from the Army. — Women Working on the Sabbath to prepare Garments
for the Soldiers. — The Pastor on the Field of Battle.
Judah Champion was born in Haddam, Con
necticut, May 21, 1724. From his youth he was dis
tinguished for his integrity, truthfulness and scrupulous
performance of duty. During his college course at
Yale, he missed morning prayers but once, and then his
delinquency was occasioned by a senior, who purposely
imposed on him a duty that he could not perform
without being absent from chapel exercises. When he
made his explanation to the professor, the latter said,
" Champion, you never need give any excuse for ab
sence from prayers again." He was ordained pastor of
the Congregational Church of Litchfield, Connecticut,
July 4, 1753, when that parish comprised Northfield,
South Farms and Milton. Short, erect, with an elastic
step and dignified gait ; he had a frank and open coun- '
tenance, and a clear, straightforward look, that bespoke
both his sincerity and fearlessness. Earnest and elo
quent, he exercised unbounded influence over his parish,
and was looked up to with love and reverence by young
and old. His power in prayer was so remarkable that

PRAYER FOR VICTORY. 319
whenever any one within his extensive parish felt it
necessary to send for a physician, he sent also for
the pastor to pray with the sick, having an almost
superstitious belief in the efficacy of his "fervent
prayer." A thorough scholar, many distinguished
men fitted for college under him, among whom may
be mentioned Gov. Oliver Wolcott and Hon. Frederick
Wolcott. Ardent in his feelings, and hating every form of op
pression, he lent the weight of his personal character
and his eloquent tongue to the cause of the Colonies.
His prayers for their success in the conflict on which
they had entered, were so fervent and thrilling as at
times completely to electrify his congregation. On one
occasion Major Tallmadge was passing through Litch
field with a regiment of cavalry. Reaching the village
Saturday night, they remained over the Sabbath and
attended Mr. Champion's church. The presence of the
armed troopers in the house, brought before the patri
otic pastor more vividly than ever the struggle that
was wasting the land, and the more terrible conflicts
awaiting it when the veteran hosts reported to be on their
way to conquer them should arrive. In his morning
prayer he referred to the prospective hostile invasion,
the overwhelming numbers that composed it, the cruel
purpose for which it was set on foot, and the haughty,
scornful spirit of those who carried it on. He spoke
of their enmity to the American church, and the ruin
to religion which their success would accomplish ; of
congregations scattered, churches burned to the ground,
and the Lord's people made a hissing and a by-word

320 JUDAH CHAMPION.
among their foes, till his own feelings and those of his
hearers were roused into intense excitement in view of
the great wrongs and sufferings designed for them and
the Church of God, and he burst forth :
" 0 Lord, we view with terror and dismay the ene
mies of our holy religion ; wilt thou send storm and
tempest to toss them upon the sea, to overwhelm them
in the mighty deep, or scatter them to the utmost
parts of the earth. But, peradventure, should they
escape thy vengeance, collect them together again, 0
Lord, as in the hollow of thy hand, and let thy light
nings play upon them. We beseech thee, moreover,
that thou do gird up the loins of these thy servants,
who are going forth to fight thy battles. Make them
strong men, that one shall chase a thousand, and two
put ten thousand to flight. Hold before them the
shield with which thou wast wont in the old time to
protect thy chosen people. Give them swift feet, that
they may pursue their enemies, and swords terrible as
that of thy destroying angel, that they may cleave
them down. Preserve these servants of thine, Al
mighty God, and bring them once more to their homes
and friends, if thou canst do it consistently with
thy high purpose. If, on the other hand, thou hast
decreed they shall die in battle, let thy spirit be
present with them that they may go up as a sweet
sacrifice into the courts of thy temple, where are hab
itations prepared for them from the foundation of the
world." In these days of peace and security one is apt to
look on such a prayer with profound surprise, if not

EAGERNESS FOR NEWS. 321
with condemnation ; but the patriotic clergy of the
revolution never practised self-deception ; they did not
wish for one thing in their hearts and pray for another
with their lips. When they wanted the destruction
of their foes, they did not pray about something else,
and wait to see if their desires might not be accom-
phshed through the agency of wicked men, or chance,
or the devil. They came boldly to the very Holy of
Holies, and asked for it. Their enemies were the
enemies of God ; their foes those of the Church, who
were coming to lay waste and destroy God's heritagej
and they wished their overthrow, and honestly, and
with strong crying and tears, prayed for it. Like
Cromwell's Ironsides, who first invoked God's right
arm to strike with them, and then with the fearful
war-cry " Eeligion" on their lips swept like a thunder-:
cloud to battle ; like the Covenanters, who prayed
that their swords might be like that of Gideon, that
turned not back from the slaughter, and then fell in
fury on their pursuers ; like David, praying for the
overthrow of his enemies, and Moses, and Joshua,
and the prophets, whose earnest supplications swelled
the heaps of the slain ; so these puritan divines, with
out rancor or vindictive hate, prayed in this fashion,
and with an honest, earnest purpose, " Thy kingdom
come." At this remote period it is impossible to imagine
the state of excitement in which the country was
thrown by the opening scenes of the revolution. Im
portant .news traveled at that time by couriers, and
eyes were constantly turned up and down the streets
14*

322 JUDAH CHAMPION.
for swift riders bearing intelligence big with the fate
of the colonies.
One pleasant Sabbath morning, the inhabitants of
Litchfield had gathered to the sanctuary, the streets
were deserted, and not a living thing broke the serenity
and stillness that reigned in the quiet village. The
services had already commenced, and the solemn strains
of the morning hymn had just died away, and the
clear tones of Mr. Champion's voice were echoing
through the consecrated place, when the clatter of a
horse's hoofs, coming at a furious rate down the street,
arrested every ear. The animal was covered with
foam, but the eager rider spared not the spur as he
pressed straight for the meeting-house. Alighting at
the door, he flung the bridle on the horse's neck, and
entering the porch, walked rapidly up the centre aisle,
and amid a hush like that of death, ascended the
pulpit steps and handed Mr. Champion a paper. The
excited pastor cast his eye over it, and then arose and
announced to the still more excited congregation, that
St. John's had been taken by the American troops.
" St. John's is taken,"* exclaimed the patriot, and
lifting his eyes to heaven burst forth, " Thank God
for the victory ! " The chorister, who sat opposite in
the gallery, could not contain his joy, but clapping his
hands, vigorously shouted, " Amen, and amen ! "
After the first excitement was over, the pastor pro
ceeded to read the entire communication. It stated
* It must bo remembered it had been besieged six weeljg, and was
regarded as tho key of Canada.

SABBATH WORK. 323
that our army was in a suffering condition, destitute
of clothing, without stockings or shoes, while in that
latitude, the latter part of November had brought all
the rigors of winter, and that with bare, lacerated
feet they wrere soon to march to Quebec. Sorrow and
pity took the place of exultation, and generous sym
pathetic eyes filled with tears on every side. There
was scarcely a dry eye among the females of the con
gregation. As soon as the audience was dismissed,
they were seen gathered together in excited groups,
and it was evident some scheme was on foot that
would not admit of delay. The result was, that when
the congregation assembled in the afternoon, not a
woman was to be seen. The men had come to church,
but their earnest, noble wives and daughters had taken
down their hand-cards, drawn forth their spinning-
wheels, set in motion their looms, while the knitting
and sewing needle were plied as they never were plied
before. It was a strange spectacle to see that puritan
Sabbath turned into a day of secular work. The pas
tor was at the meeting-house performing those duties
belonging to the house of God, and the voice of prayer
and hymns of praise ascended as usual from devout
and solemn hearts ; but all through the usually quiet
streets of Litchfield the humming sound of the spin
ning-wheel, the clash of the shuttle plying to and fro
were heard, making strange harmony with the worship
of the sanctuary. But let it not be supposed that
these noble women had gone to work without the
knowledge of their pastor. They had consulted with
him? and he bad given them his sanction and blessing.

324 JUD AH C H A MPIO N.
Nor was their toil enlivened by pleasant conversation
and light talk. Swimming eyes and heaving bosoms
were over their work, and lips moved in prayer for the
destitute and suffering soldiers. The pastor's wife
contributed eleven blankets from her own stores to the
collection. Many years after, when speaking of this
event, a grand-daughter asked the venerable man how
such a desecration of the Sabbath could be justified.
He turned on her a reproving look, and replied, " Mercy
before sacrifice."
Is it wonderful that a cause which called forth such
efforts and such prayers should succeed ? How super
ficially has the American historian studied the revolu
tion, who leaves out of his narrative the pulpit and
clergy, or fails to give them a prominent place ? The
express-rider dashing through Litchfield was guilty of
no such mistake. Driving the rowels in his panting
steed, he dashed straight for the house of God and the
pulpit. He knew that the clergy were a committee of
one in every parish to whom all other committees, aye;
and Provincial Congresses too, looked for sympathy
and support.
Not long after Mr. Champion received, on the same
morning, from various parishioners, who were ignorant
of each other's intentions, a great many quarters of
veal. Mrs. Champion, alarmed at the extraordinary
supply, informed her husband of it, and wanted to
know what to do, as it would be impossible to preserve
such a large quantity of fresh meat till it was consum
ed. " Never mind," said the good pastor, " Providence
has a meaning in it. There will be occasion to use it

ATTENTION TO THE WOUNDED. 325
in some way we do not think of." Scarce two hours
had passed before a letter was put in his hand from his
nephew, Henry Champion, quarter-master in the army,
stating that a regiment of soldiers would pass through
Litchfield that day, and wishing he would see that a
dinner was prepared for them. He immediately sent
word round to the inhabitants, who assembled, and
soon tables were set all through the main street, and
bountifully provided. Before night Mrs. Champion
found that the quantity of veal that had distressed her
so much had all disappeared.
When the news of Burgoyne's invasion sent con
sternation over the land, this patriotic pastor could no
longer remain at home an idle spectator of the contest.
Offering his services as chaplain, he was ordered to
Ticonderoga. He was there during the siege of that
fortress, and fled at midnight with the retreating army
through the wilderness. Sharing the perils and hard
ships of that disastrous retreat, he at length saw with
jo^ and thankfulness the army make its determined
stand at Saratoga. After the first battle, he devoted
himself night and day tb the sick and wounded. The
same attention was shown to the wounded British,
after the surrender of Burgoyne. He made the hos
pitals his home, for the wretchedness and suffering
around him so moved his heart that he could not rest.
The sick and dying of whatever nation were to him as
brothers, and such was his zeal and self-sacrifice that
the British officers, as well as our own, returned him
their warmest thanks.
He witnessed the close of the great drama, and

326 JUDAH CHAMPION.
when the British evacuated New York, he returned
once more to his parish to share in the general joy that
swelled the hearts of a ransomed people. He died
October 8, 1810, in the fifty-seventh year of his min
istry, and eightieth year of his age.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
ALEXANDER MoWHORTER.
His Early Life. — Zeal in the Cause of Libeety. — Sent South by Congress to
rouse the Inhabitants.— Accompanies Washington in his Retreat through
New Jersey.— Made Chaplain of Knox's Brigade.— Leaves the Army.— Set
tles in North Carolina. — His Library and Furniture destroyed by the
British. — Flees to Pennsylvania.— Sent to England to raise Funds for
Princeton College. — Revisits his Native Place. — His Death.
Although the subject of the following sketch moved
amid some of the most stirring scenes of the Revolu
tion, and was identified with many of its leading events,
the details and incidents necessary to a proper appreci
ation of his services are sadly wanting.
He was born in Newcastle, Delaware, July 15th,
1734, though his parents removed when he was a mere
boy to North Carolina. He was licensed to preach in
1758, and continued to discharge his duties as pastor
with great success till the breaking out of the Revolu
tion. He was at the North in search of health when
the battle of Bunker Hill set the land in a blaze, and
immediately flung himself with such zeal into the strug
gle that Congress sent him to North Carolina to rouse
the people to take sides with the other Colonies. His
enthusiastic appeals kindled the hate of the Tories of
that State, and he was pursued with the utmost ma
lignity, and met with such determined opposition that
he at length abandoned the effort and returned North.

328 ALEXANDER MoWHORTER.
In the summer of 1776 he received the degree of Doctor
of Divinity from Yale College. The next winter found
him by the side of Washington in the gloomy retreat
through the Jerseys, and on the frozen banks of the
Delaware, concerting with him on what was to be done
for the salvation of the state. On the night of the
26th of December he marched through the driving sleet
to Trenton, and with a heart full of joy and devout
thanksgiving heard the shout of victory that lifted the
land from the abyss of despair, and shed a bright
though transient gleam of light on the all enshrouding
darkness. He gave his whole time and effort to the
army, encountering hardships and making sacrifices for
the common good with a cheerfulness and zeal that en
deared him to Washington and the other officers. In
the summer of 1778 General Knox made an urgent
request that he should become the chaplain of his
brigade, then encamped with the main army at White
Plains. He consented, and frequently in his sermons
to the troops had Washington for a hearer. The latter
esteemed him highly, and often invited him to head
quarters. During the summer his wife was struck
with lightning, and although not killed received such a
shock to her constitution that he felt it his duty to
resign his chaplaincy and return home to attend to her
and the family. In 1779 he received a call from the
congregation of Charlotte, Mecklenburg county, North
Carolina, and at the same time an invitation to be pres
ident of Charlotte Academy. Both of these he accepted.
He had not been settled here long, however, when the
approach of Cornwallis, spreading devastation on every

VISIT TO BIRTHPLACE. 329
side, compelled him to flee with his family. On his
return he found that his library, furniture and other
property had become the spoil of the invaders, and
fearing repeated attacks he left the place and set his
face northward. He preached afterwards for a few
years in Abingdon, in Pennsylvania, but in 1802, after
Princeton College was burned, he, at the earnest re
quest of the trustees, went to England to solicit aid
for its reerection.
In his old age, feeling a strong desire to visit his
native place in Delaware, he took a colored servant,
and in a light carriage traveled slowly to Newcastle.
Dr. Murray, of Elizabethtown, thus relates the follow
ing incident of this visit, obtained from Dr. Miller, of
Princeton :_ "Driving up to the door of the house in
which he was born — now old and dilapidated — he asked
the woman who came to the door who lived there. Being
answered, he asked again who lived there before them.
Having received a reply, he again asked, ' Who lived
there before them ?' The woman could not tell. He
then asked her if she had ever heard of a family who
once lived there by the name of McWhorter. ' What
name did you say ?' said the woman. ' McWhorter,'
replied the doctor. ' I never heard of such a family,'
said she. He then drove to a neighboring house, where
an uncle, a brother of his father, used to live. He
asked the same questions, and received the same an
swers. Eeturning to the house of his birth, he left
his carnage and asked for a tumbler, saying, ' There is
one place here that knows me and that I know.' And
leaninc on the arm of his servant he hobbled to a

330 ALEXANDER M<=WHORTEB.
spring at the bottom of the garden from which he used
to drink when a boy. He stood over it for some time,
and drank of its watera until he could drink no more.
He then hobbled back to his carriage, repeating these
words as he entered it — the tears streaming from his
eyes — ' The places that now know us will know us no
more forever.' "
He died the 20th of July, 1807, calm, patient, and
at times triumphant, and passed to his reward. The
noble patriot, however, lived to see his country not
only free, but rapidly advancing to that rank among
nations which she has since taken.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
MOSES ALLEN.
His Early Life. — A Friend of Madison. — Settles in Midway, Georgia. —His
Patriotio Efforts. — Chaplain in the Aemy. — His Housa and Church
Burned. — In the Battle before Savannah. — Is taken Prisoner. — Confined
on board a Prison Ship. — His Sufferings. — Brutality of his Captors. —
Attempts to Escape. — Is Drowned. — Denied Decent Burial.
There were not two nobler, more devoted patriots
in the revolution than the two brothers, Thomas and
Moses Allen. The latter was born in Northampton,
Mass., Sept 14th, 1748. He received his education at
Princeton College, where he graduated in 1772, and
two years after was licensed to preach by the presby
tery of New Brunswick. A friend and classmate of
young Madison, he, soon after receiving license, made
a visit to him at the house of his father, Col. Madison,
where he spent several days, and by whom he was
invited to preach at the Court House. His discourse
delighted the people so much that he was requested to
spend the winter there. In the March following he
preached at Christ's Church, twenty miles from Charles
ton, South Carolina. Having received ordination, he
remained here till 1777, when he removed to Midway,
Georgia. Though surrounded by tories in his new
home, some of whom formed a part of his congrega
tion, he took open ground against the mother country.
He thought it no sacrilege to preach rebellion from the

332 MOSES ALLEN.
pulpit, and though remonstrated with and threatened,
he continued to denounce the aggressive measures of
Great Britain as insulting and tyrannical, declaring
they never should be submitted to, and called on his
people to arm in defence of their countiy and its most
sacred rights. During the winter and spring of 1778
the tories, aided by the Indians, became so formidable,
and gathered in such threatening numbers on the
southern frontier, that an expedition was fitted out
against them. Gov. Houston, of Georgia, furnished
three hundred and fifty militia, and led them in per
son. Young Allen, whose eloquent tongue had never
ceased to plead with the hesitating and denounce the
tories as traitors, no sooner heard the trumpet of war
sound than he left his parish, and joined the Georgia
brigade as chaplain.
The entire force was under the command of Gen.
Eobert Howe, who immediately pushed southward to
St. Mary's river, and driving the affrighted tories from
Fort Tonin, made preparations to move against St.
Augustine, at that time in the hands of the enemy.
The latter immediately began to concentrate his forces,
and if Howe expected to do any thing, prompt and
energetic action was necessary. But instead of this,
divided councils and disputes respecting the rights of
the several commands prevailed — the commander of
the naval force refusing to obey a land officer, and
Gov. Houston asserting the right to the control of his
own troops, so that nothing at all was done. In the
meantime, the troops being without tents, were com
pelled to encamp on the damp ground, curtained at

ATTACK ON SAVANNAH. 333
night with the pestiferous exhalations of swamps, which
soon prostrated the militia unaccustomed to such
exposures, with sickness. Disheartened by this state
of things, Col. Pinckney took the fragments of his
command and returned by water to Charleston, while
Howe, his force of eleven hundred being reduced to
three hundred and fifty, marched back to Savannah.
The patriots were much disheartened by the dis
graceful failure of this expedition, but young Allen,
whose courage and enthusiasm nothing could shake or
dampen, grew bolder as the prospects darkened, and
devoted his entire energies to keep up the spirit of the
inhabitants, urging them by every argument, and the
most impassioned eloquence to arm in defense of the
State. This was the more necessary, as the failure of
this grand attempt to invade Florida had emboldened
the enemy to invade in turn. Savannah was selected
by them as the point of attack, and arrangements were
made to have a naval force from the north enter the
Savannah river and invest it on the water side, while
Provost, with his heterogeneous horde of regulars, tories,
and Indians from Florida, should advance against it
over the countiy. The whole region was thrown into
a state of the wildest alarm by the imposing forces
that now threatened to sweep away every vestige of
opposition. The tories were elated, and the hitherto
timorous and wavering, were inclined to accept the
terms of mercy that had been offered. It was in this
crisis that the eloquent voice and fearless bearing of
young Allen stayed the ebbing tide of patriotism. His
presence and appeals so arrested disaffection that the

334 MOSES ALLEN.
tories cursed his very name. He became more obnox
ious to them than the military leaders of the patriotic
forces, and the most deadly threats were uttered
against him.
In the meantime Provost, with his rabble hordes,
was advancing in the direction of Midway. Mr.
Allen's congregation was, of course, broken up, part
fleeing into the surrounding country, while most of the
able-bodied men rallied around their pastor, who has
tened to join the patriots under General Scriven. The
latter had frequent skirmishes with the enemy, in one
of which the tory general, McGirth, was killed. The
enemy continued to press forward, however, until they
came within three miles of Ogeechee ferry. Mr. Sav
age, a patriotic planter, hearing of their approach, and
ascertaining they were marching in the direction of the
ferry, hastily called his slaves together, and repairing
thither threw up a breastwork. He kept the terrified
blacks steadily at their work until the sound of fife
and drum in the rear announced the approach of help.
Soon Colonel Elbert, with two hundred continentals,
arrived and took possession of the works. The enemy
coming in sight of this unexpected obstacle in their
path, immediately retreated towards the Altamaha,
lighting their way with burning dwellings and stacks
of rice, which at that season dotted the fields. Mid
way, the hot bed of rebellion, and the home of Mr.
Allen, was the first object of revenge. The tories told
the British officer that this rebel parson did more in
jury to the cause of the king than a dozen colonels,
and that the hornet's nest should be utterly destroyed.

BATTLE AT SAVANNAH. 335
To his shame, he ordered the torch to be applied, not
only to his house, but also io the church where they
said so much treason had been preached, and they were
both burned to the ground. These outrages were not
calculated to cool the pastor's patriotism, or cause him
to slacken his efforts, nor did they. Between this time
and December, when Savannah fell, he labored inces
santly to rouse the inhabitants to defend their capital.
The people of the city turned out, and seizing the
spade and pickaxe toiled side by side with the soldiers
and negroes in erecting defences. In the meantime,
Howe, with only a little over seven hundred men, has
tened thither. The militia were called upon by the
governor, but they came in slowly, so that when Pro
vost arrived before the place, the army, all told,
amounted to only nine hundred men.
The British fleet at length entered the river, and
Howe prepared for battle. The disposition of his
forces, however, was injudicious, and the British com
mander by outmaneuvering him, virtually won the
battle before a shot was fired. Among other errors he
neglected a bye-path which led to his rear, although
Walton, the commander of the Georgia brigade,
pointed it out to him. Howe replied that it was of
no consequence, for the British would never notice it.
The result was, Sir James Baird, with a body of in
fantry and New York volunteers left the main body,
and under the guidance of an old negro named Quo-
mino Dolly, traversed this obscure path and fell on
the rear of the army at .the same time the British
commander attacked in front. The Georgia militia,

336 MOSES ALLEN.
taken by surprise, were ^thrown into confusion, but
their officers ralEed them to meet the onset firmly.
Young Allen, seeing the unsteadiness of the troops,
rushed to the front of the battle and called on the men
to follow him. Wherever the fire was hottest, there
he hurried, unconscious of fear, and strove heroic
ally to impart courage to others. The reckless expos
ure of the unarmed minister of God, again and again
shamed the wavering troops back to their duty. But
the flank movement had, from the outset, decided the
battle, and though each man had been determined and
fearless as Allen, defeat was inevitable and resistance
only increased the slaughter. Walton, the commander,
at length fell wounded, when,all order was lost. A few
escaped, but the greater part were taken prisoners, and
among them Mr. Allen. The line in front now gave
way, and the fight became a rout. A few escaped
through the rice fields, and some by swimming a creek
in the rear, but a hundred were killed or drowned, and
four hundred and fifty-three taken prisoners. The
enemy now occupied Savannah without further resist
ance. The continental officers were sent on parole to
Sunbury, but the privates were placed on board prison
ships in the river, and among them the chaplain. It
seems hardly conceivable that an officer, commanding
Christian troops, should be guilty of such an outrage
upon a minister of God. One would think, if any
distinction at all was made in the prisoners, it would
have been in his favor, and not against him. Were
the sacredness of his profession set aside altogether, it
is not easy to see by what right he, an officer in the

INHUMAN TEEATMENT. 337
army, was denied the parole extended to all the others.
It seems the more strange in this case as the British
commander, Col. Campbell, had the reputation of being
both humane and generous. It can be explained only
on the ground that the tories represented his case as a
peculiar one — that by his influence, his preaching and
example he inflicted more injury on the royal cause
than any other man. Besides, his bold denunciations
of King George, and irreverent language used not only
toward his majesty but the government, lost none of
their bitterness and treasonable character in being re^
peated to the commander. In short, he was the head
rebel of the entire region, whose bold, free tongue cut
deeper than the sword. On this account the young,
educated, accomplished divine was thrown into a
loathsome prison-ship, and placed under the tender
mercies of the brutal commander, Parker. Here,
crowded between the confined decks, suffocated for
want of air, and fed like brutes, the men fell sick, and
the atmosphere almost unendurable before, became
tainted with disease.
Young Allen, however, bore up like a Christian and
a hero under the sufferings and degradation of his po
sition. He prayed with the sick, and spoke cheering
words to the desponding. Some of them were his
parishioners, whose wives and families were wanderers
like his own amid their desolate homes. To filth, dis
ease, and dirty, unfit food, were added insults and pro
fanity. Emaciated, pale and ragged, this young cler
gymen, the friend and class-mate of Madison, dragged
out the weary weeks, with a brave, unyielding heart.
15

338 MOSES ALLEN.
But as the warm weather of spring approached the
sickness increased, and his loathsome den became in
tolerable. To shed additional gloom on their fate,
their inhuman captors surrounded death, which other
wise would have been hailed as a happy release, with
the most repulsive, horrible associations. The dead
bodies of the prisoners were not allowed a resting place
even beneath the waters of the Savannah, but carried
like common carrion to a swamp on the shore and
thrust into the mud. The brutal soldiery did not
always take pains to force the corpses below the sur
face of the ooze, but left arms and legs and heads ex-
posed to rot in the sun. Here the wan, ghastly face
of a young man, and there the gray hairs of an aged
farmer, whose only crime was defending his home from
invaders, appeared on the slimy surface. The buz
zards, attracted by the stench that arose from the de
composed bodies, came from the surrounding region
and swept in slow, melancholy circles, above the swamp
where the patriots lay, ere they descended upon their
human repast.
Surrounded with such sights and sufferings, exposed
to constant insults, with no prospect of release, Mr.
Allen, though his spirit remained unbroken, deter
mined to make an attempt to escape. The inhuman
treatment he received, and to which there seemed no
termination but death, had made him look on any fate
as preferable to the one he was then enduring. He
had noticed a point some distance down the river,
from which, if he could reach it, he might, he thought,
effect his escape, and he resolved on the first favorable

DENIED BURIAL. 339
occasion to make the attempt. It was true he might
be detected in the act of plunging overboard and
shot, but this did not deter him for a moment, for to
the desire of escaping from his intolerable prison was
added the anxious longing to be with his wife and in
fant child, now without a protector in a land overrun
by malignant tories. The thought of them gave greater
fixedness to his determination to remain in that living
grave the scoff and by-word of the brutal soldiers no
longer. Watching, therefore, a favorable opportunity,
when the guard was turned away, he slipped overboard
and boldly swam for the distant point. At first he
struck out strong and vigorous, but he soon found that
he had overrated his strength. Starvation and long
confinement in the pestilential air of the prison had
taken away all his powers of endurance, and his strokes
gradually became slower and feebler. His fearless
courage could not supply the place of -strength, and ho
soon saw that he would never reach the shore. He
struggled on, however, manfully to the last, and then,
without lifting one cry for help, sunk beneath the sur
face. His body was thrown ashore on Tybee Island,
and some of the prisoners who were his old friends and
parishioners, went to Commodore Parker and asked for
a few rough boards that they might make a box, at
least, in which to place the remains of their pastor.
But this man, who was a disgrace to his profession and
to the nation whose commission he bore, returned a
brutal refusal, saying that the rebel preacher deserved
only a traitor's grave ; and he was thrust unceremoni
ously into the mud with the others. Thus at the

340 MOSES ALLEN.
early age of thirty died this intellectual, accomplished
man, eloquent divine and earnest patriot. It is a
shame to the State for whose defence he gave his
life, that she has not reared a monument to his
memory.

CHAPTER XXXV.
BENJAMIN POMEROY.
His Early Life. — Becomes a " New Light." — Is Persecuted by the State, and
Finally Deprived of his Salary. — Becomes Chaplain in the French War.
— His Letter to his Wife describino the Execution of a Criminal. — At
Seventy becomes Chaplain in the Revolutionaey Army. — His Venerable
Appearance. — Touching Appeals. — His Death.
A few of the New England clergy who served as
chaplains in the French war lived to act in the same
capacity in the revolutionary struggle. Among these
was Benjamin Pomeroy, who was born in Suffield,
Connecticut, in 1704. Having graduated at Yale
College in 1733, with the highest honors of his class,
he devoted a short time to the 6tudy of theology, and
two years after was ordained pastor of the church in
Hebron, Connecticut. Having identified himself with
the great religious excitement which commenced about
1740, he was called a " new light," and as such became
obnoxious to the bigoted, intolerant act of 1742, passed
by the State to prevent, it was said, the great disorders
caused by these revivalists. Being arraigned before the
Assembly, he was tried and acquitted, though he nar
rowly escaped personal violence at the hands of the
excited crowd who had assembled to witness the trial.
Two years after, he was brought again before the Assem
bly for having denounced its intolerant edicts, especially
for saying on Fast-day that "great men had fallen in

342 BENJAMIN POMEROY.
with those that were on the devil's side, and enemies to
the kingdom of Christ — that they had raised such per
secution in the land, that if there be a faithful minister
of the Lord Jesus he must lose his estate — that if
there be a faithful man in civil authority ne must lose
his honor and usefulness, and that there was no colony
so bad as Connecticut for persecuting laws." For this
bold declaration he was condemned to pay the cost of
the prosecution, give bonds to the amount of fifty
pounds for his peaceable behavior till the succeeding
May, and then appear again before the Assembly to
take up his bond. This surveillance of the State
caused him much annoyance, but he retained the con
fidence and love of his entire parish. Subsequently he
was again arraigned and suffered still severer punish-
mentv A lecture having been advertised for him in the
adjoining town of Colchester, with the consent, as he
supposed, of the pastor, he went at the appointed time,
to the, church where it was to be delivered but found
it closed against him. Finding a crowd, however, as
sembled to hear him, he was unwilling to disappoint
them, and so adjourned to a neighboring grove, and
gave his lecture. For this violation of the law he
was deprived of his stated salary for a period of seven
years. On the breaking out of the French war he became a
chaplain in the army. Whether the annoyance to
which he was subjected by the oppressive laws of the
State, or his own ardent spirit prompted him to this
course, we are unable to say. Wo are left in equal
ignorance of the incidents that marked his career

EXECUTION OF A CRIMINAL. 343
during the campaigns in the wilderness. A single waif
has drifted down to posterity in the shape of a letter
to his wife, which gives us a glimpse of his life as
chaplain. " Lake George, July 28, 1759.
"My Dear,
" Saturday last, at break of day, our troops,
to the number of twelve thousand, embarked for
Cabrillons, all in health and high spirits. I could
wish for more dependence on God than was observable
among them, yet I hope God will grant deliverance
unto Israel by them. Mr. Beebe* and I, by the advice
of our colonel, stay behind, but expect soon to follow.
A considerable number of sick are left here in the hos
pitals. Five died last night. I have been well in gen
eral. Want very much to hear from you — our dear
children, the people, the neighboring ministers, etc. I
would mention, did time permit me to describe it,
the affecting scene of last Friday morning. A poor,
wretched criminal, Thomas Bailey, was executed. Mr.
Brainard and myself chiefly discoursed with him, but
almost all his care was to have his life prolonged — he
pleaded with us to intercede with the general for him,
but there was no prospect of succeeding. His crime
was stealing or robbing, whereof he had frequently
been guilty. Once received one hundred lashes, and
once reprieved from the gallows, but being often re
proved, he hardened his heart, and was suddenly de
stroyed. Several prayers were made at the place of
* Assistant Chaplain.

344 BENJAMIN POMEROY.
execution — the poor creature was terrified, even to
amazement and distraction, at the approach of the
King of Terrors. An eternity of sinful pleasures would
be dear bought with the pains of the last two hours of
his life. He struggled with his executioners, I believe,
more than an hour ere they could put him in any
proper position to receive the shot. The captain of
the guard told me since, that he verily believed that
the Devil helped him. I was far from thinking so, yet
his resistance was very extraordinary.
" I am, with increasing love and affection, my dear,
your most affectionate, loving husband.
"Benj. Pomeboy.
"Mrs. Abigail Pomeroy, Hebron, Conn."
A man of his fearless, independent nature, and who
had suffered from oppressive laws would not be likely
to be a mere spectator of the struggles of the colonists
against the tyrannical acts of Great Britain. Though
his ardent, impetuous spirit had become somewhat
tempered by age, he entered into the quarrel with all
the energy and enthusiasm of youth. His impas
sioned eloquence and impressive appeals that were so
wont to move his audience in the time of Whitfield,
were now devoted to a cause equally worthy of his
fervent sympathy and great powers. Preaching extem
pore, those addresses, which would melt his hearers to
tears, have never come down to posterity. He had
reached his three score and ten years, and as he stood
before his audience and spoke of the coming struggle,
and declared that God would make bare His right arm

CONFIDENCE IN ADVERSITY. 345
for the deliverance of His people, and the discomfiture
of His foes, and foretold the coming glory of the na
tion free and independent ; he seemed some ancient
seer, whose aged eye pierced the clouds that wrapped
the future from the gaze of ordinary mortals. When
the news of the battles of Lexington and Concord
reached Hebron, though he was seventy-one years of
age, it stirred the sluggish blood in his aged veins so
that he hastened to the army, and volunteered his
services as chaplain. The venerable divine, with his
thin locks white as the driven snow, was looked upon
almost with veneration by the soldiers. His addresses
to them were mostly earnest appeals to fight manfully
the battles of freedom, assuring them that the cause
was God's, and that ultimate victory was as certain
as that God's promise could not be broken. It was an
affecting sight to see that prophet in Israel stand
ing on the tented field, surrounded by young soldiers,
urging them as Ephraim Macbriar of old did the Cov
enanters, to let " every man's hand be like the hand
of Sampson, and every sword like that of Gideon that
turned not back from the slaughter."
He was too infirm to follow the army in its long
and toilsome campaigns, and after a while returned to
his people. The war passed on with its vicissitudes,
but in the gloomiest hour, when hope could scarcely
see a single gleam of light through the all-enclosing
darkness, his faith never shook, and he spoke as
confidently then, as amid the exultation of a great
victory, that God would deliver His people. He lived
to see his predictions verified, and sat like a patriarch
15*

346 benjamin pomeroy.
of old and listened with tearful eyes and overflowing
heart to the shouts of joy that rolled over the ransomed
land. He died Dec. 22nd, 1784, in the eighty-first year of
his age.

CHAPTER XXXVI.
JOHN ROGERS.
His Reputation Abroad..— His Patriotism.— Introduction to Washington.—
Chaplain in Heath's Brigade. — Resigns and goes to Georgia  On his
Return made Chaplain to the New York Provincial Assembly. — Becomes
Member of the Legislature, — Chancellor of the Regents of the Univer
sity. As I remarked in a previous chapter the career of
some of the chaplains, like that of many of the officers,
was marked by striking events, while the his tory of o thers
has perished with them, and their immediate descend
ants. There are others, also, whose patriotic, efforts
and sacrifices are known only as general facts, but not
sufficient details have been preserved to make an ex
tended biography.
Of this class was John Eogers, of Boston, who was so
honored even in Europe for his talents and learning,
that in 1768 he received the degree of Doctor of
Divinity from the University of Edinburgh. From
the commencement of the revolution his whole heart
was given to the cause of the colonies, and all the aid
which his great abilities and exalted position enabled
him to furnish was cheerfully rendered. Before hostil
ities had actually commenced, he, with several other
clergymen, held a weekly prayer meeting in behalf of
their country, and strong supplications ascended to the
throne of grace that ia the conflict which they clearly

348. JOHN ROGERS.
foresaw to be inevitable, God would give victory to the
oppressed colonies. These meetings were kept up until
those composing it were compelled to flee before the
approaching enemy. When Washington, on the 19th
of April, took possession of New York for its defense,
Dr. Eogers, with several other gentlemen, called to pay
him their respects. Washington received him with
marked attention, and when he took his leave followed
him to the door, and remarked that persons in Phila
delphia had mentioned him as one who could render
him important service, and asked if he would allow
him to apply to him for information whenever he
desired. The Doctor assured him that he would
gladly do anything that lay in his power to serve
him and his country. Washington did often consult
him afterwards, and found him an ally not only devo
ted to his country, but gifted with rare intelEgence
and foresight.
In May, 1776, having been appointed chaplain in
Heath's brigade, he removed his family to Greenfield,
Conn., where they could be out of danger, and then
returned to the army and entered on the duties of his
office. In the autumn, having private business to
transact in Georgia, he resigned his chaplaincy. In
April, the next year, as he was returning north, he
was informed that he had been elected chaplain to the
New York State Convention then in session at Esopus.
Paying a flying visit to his family in Greenfield he
crossed over to New York State and entered on his
duties, which he continued to perform till the power
of the State was lodged in a council of safety, when

SETTLED IN NEW YORK. 349
he served as chaplain in that body. He brought his
family on to Esopus, and remained there till it was
burned by the British, when he removed to Sharon,
C onn. He afterwards became a member of the Legis
lature, and served for three successive years. At the
close of the war he was enabled to return to his congre
gation in New York city, but he found the parsonage
burned to the ground and the sanctuary in ruins. The
vestry of Trinity Church, with generous liberality,
offered him the use of St. George and St. Paul's
Churches till another place of worship could be erected,
and he preached alternately in them through the
winter. The subject of one of his first discourses
after his return to the city was "The Divine Goodness
displayed in the American Eevolution," which was
published. When the Legislature established the board
of " Regents of the University" he was chosen Vice-
Chancellor, and held that office till his death, in May,
1811, in the eighty-fourth year of his age.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
GEORGE DUFFIELD.
Descended from Tnc Huguenots. — Studies foe the Ministrt. — Is Settled in
Carlisle. — Ills Parishioners go armed to Church. — His Patriotism. — .
Settles in Philadelphia. — King's Magistrate attempts to stop his Preach
ing. — Is BROUGHT UP BEFORE THE MAYOR ON CHARGE OF RlOT. — EXCITEMENT OF
the People. —His Popularity with Members of Congress. — Stirring Ad
dress. — Becomes Chaplain in the Army. — Preaches to the Soldiers from
the Forks of a Tree. —Buries a brother Chaplain who has been Mur
dered. — Naerow Escape. — Example of his Faith. — His Death.
The descendants of the French Huguenots that
were living in America at the time of the revolution
were almost without exception staunch patriots.
Among these none took a firmer and nobler stand than
George Duffield, of Pennsylvania. His ancestors fled
from France to England to escape religious persecu
tion, and thence to Ireland, from which country his
immediate parents emigrated to America and settled
in Pequea, Pennsylvania. He was born October 7th,
1732, and received his education at Princeton College.
Graduating in 1752 he studied theology in his native
town under Dr. Robert Smith, and was licensed to
preach in 1756. He married the daughter of General
Armstrong, and in 1761 was ordained and settled over
the congregation at Carlisle.
At this time the Indians were numerous in the
vicinity of the Church, and often assumed such a
hostile attitude that the male members attended the
Sabbath services fully armed, Sometimes it was nee-

SIDES WITH THE COLONIES. 351
essary to go in pursuit of them to chastise them for
acts of violence, and Mr. Duffield always accompanied
the expeditions, sharing with his parishioners their
privations and dangers.
At Monahan, one of the associate churches over
which he presided, they were compelled from the ex
posed position of their place of worship to surround it
with fortifications, and men were stationed on the
ramparts during service to give notice of the approach
of the savages.
In such a stern school was this ardent apostle of
liberty reared. The readiness with which he shared the
perils of the frontier with the inhabitants, and the
dauntless courage he exhibited on all occasions of dan
ger, made him known far and wide, and bound him to
the hardy yeomanry of the country in the warmest
attachment. In the dispute that arose between the colonies and
mother country, he took sides at once and fearlessly,
with the former. And when an open conflict and a long
and wasting war were seen to be inevitable, he preached
rebellion as a duty, and declared that he had no doubt
that God would carry them triumphantly through the
struggle. Before his patriotic addresses and stirring
eloquence, despondency gave way to hope, and the
spirit of determined resistance was kindled in hearts
that before thought only of submission.
At this time, he was sent in company with Eev.
Charles Beatty on a missionary tour to the scattered
settlements along the frontiers of Virginia, Maryland
and Pennsylvania. Eeturning from his arduous jour-

352 GEORGE DUFFIELD.
ney, he received a call to the Third Presbyterian Church
of Philadelphia. The Colonial Congress was then in
session in the city, and consequently the greatest ex
citement prevailed among the inhabitants. He imme
diately took a bold stand on the side of Congress, and
denounced sternly and fearlessly the encroachments of
the mother country. The people flocked to hear him,
and he soon became an object of dread and hate to the
Tories, who sought in every way to injure him. On
one occasion, the congregation of the First Presbyterian
Church invited him to preach in their large place of
worship on Sunday evening when the officers of the church
hearing of it closed the doors, so that neither minister
nor people could enter. The latter, however, deter
mined not to ¦ be baffled, and prying open a window,
lifted Mr. Duffield through it. They then unbolted
the doors, and the eager crowd poured in and filled the
edifice. The news soon spread that Mr. Duffield was
addressing the people on the Sabbath evening. The
king's magistrate being applied to, hastened thither,
and forcing his way through the crowd, interrupted the
speaker and began to read the riot act. A military
officer among the congregation, by the name of Knox,
rose and sternly ordered the magistrate to stop. The
latter replied that he would not, and again commenced
reading. A second time the excited officer, in a voice
of thunder, bade him hold his tongue ; but the magis
trate paid no attention to the order, and went on with
his reading. The officer was a powerful man, and
seeing his orders so contemptuously disobeyed, cleared
his way through the multitude, and seizing the as ton-

CHARGED WITH EXCITING RIOT. 353
ished magistrate, bore him bodily along the crowded
aisle, and thrusting him out of doors, bade him begone.
Astounded at this summary ejection, the discomfited
minion of the king took himself off, and Mr. Duffield
went on with his sermon. The next day, however, ho
was brought before the mayor's court and required to
plead to the charge of aiding and abetting a riot, and
give bail for his appearance for trial. He politely, but
firmly, refused to do either, asserting his rights as a
minister of Christ, and denying that there was any riot
whatever, except such as the king's magistrate himself
had created. The mayor, a kind-hearted man, said if
he took such a course, the court would be compelled to
send him to prison ; and urged him to get bail, saying
he would take as such any of his numerous friends
then in court. Mr. Duffield promptly but courteously
declined. The mayor then offered to be bail himself.
He thanked him for his kindness, and assured him he
felt grateful for this exhibition of his good will, but
declared that he considered it his sacred duty to assert
the rights of a minister of Christ and a worshiping as
sembly that had been ruthlessly invaded by a king's
magistrate. The mayor was in a quandary, for he
knew that if he remanded him to prison there would
be another kind of a riot — one which all the king's
magistrates in the colony could not put down. He
finally said he would postpone his decision for a few
days, and in the meantime Mr. Duffield might return
home. The news that the king's government was
going to put Mr. Duffield, the patriot clergyman, in.
prison, spread like wild fire, creating the most intense

354 GEORGE DUFFIELD.
excitement. It flew on the wings of the wind over the
country, and reaching the region where he had formerly
lived, the volunteer forces there called the " Paxton
Boys," though a hundred miles distant, met and passed
a resolution, that if the king's government dared to
imprison Mr. Duffield, they would march arms in hand
to Philadelphia and liberate him at the point of the
bayonet. The worthy mayor, however, seeing the
serious course things were taking, never called him
into court to receive judgment, and the affair was
hushed up.
The patriots of the first Congress flocked to his
church, and John Adams and his compeers were often
his hearers, for he preached as Jonas Clarke had before
preached at Lexington.
In a discourse delivered before several companies of
Pennsylvania militia and members of Congress, four
months before the Declaration of Independence, he
took bold and decided ground in favor of that step,
and plead his cause with sublime eloquence, which
afterwards made him so obnoxious to the British that
they offered a reward of fifty pounds for his capture.
He declared that Heaven designed this western world
as the asylum for liberty, and that to raise its banner
here their forefathers had sundered the dearest ties of
home, friends and native land, and braved the tempests
of the ocean and the terrors of the wilderness. Not
through the fostering care of Britain, he said, had
they grown and flourished, but her " tyranny and op
pression, both civil and ecclesiastical," had driven noble
souls hither " to enjoy in peace the fair possessions of

APPOINTED CHAPLAIN. 355
freedom." "'Tis this," ho exclaimed, "has reared our
cities, and turned the wilderness, so far and wide, into
a fruitful field. And can it be supposed that the Lord
has so far forgotten to be gracious, and shut up His
tender mercies in His wrath, and so favored the arms
of oppression, as to deliver up their asylum to slavery
and bondage ? Can it be supposed that that God who
made man free, and engraved in indefaceable characters
"the love of liberty in his mind, should forbid freedom
already exiled from Asia and Africa, and under sen
tence of banishment from Europe — that He should
forbid her to erect her banners here, and constrain her
to abandon the earth ? As soon shall He subvert cre
ation, and forbid the sun to shine. He preserved to the
Jews their cities of refuge, and whilst sun and moon
endure America shall remain a city of refuge for the
ivhole earth, until she herself shall play the tyrant,
forget her destiny, disgrace her freedom, and provoke
her God. When that clay shall — if ever come — then,
and not till then, shall she also fall, slain tuith them
that go down to the pit." In such strains of impas
sioned eloquence did he sustain his high argument for
liberty, and pour his own brave, glowing soul into his
excited listeners, till they were ready, when he ceased,
to shout, "To arms! to arms!" So great was his
zeal in the cause of the Colonies, and so wide was his
influence known to be, that his services in the army
were sought for at the earliest moment, and four days
after the Declaration of Independence he received his
commission as chaplain in the Pennsylvania militia.
Although he had great influence with members of

356 GEORGE DUFFIELD.
Congress, he was needed especially among the troops.
This, too, was the place for him, for his heart was with
those struggling on the battle field more than with
those debating in Congress. Whenever any perilous
undertaking was attempted, he could not remain
behind. Accustomed to the habits and peculiarities,
as well as the privations of a camp life, he wielded
great influence over the soldiers. He could infuse
courage in the hour of danger, and cheer the disheart
ened in disaster, by example, precept and prayer.
Bold and confident himself, he inspired confidence in
others. He was well known in camp, and his visits
were always welcome, for the soldiers loved the elo
quent, earnest, fearless patriot.
When the enemy occupied Staten Island, and the
American forces were across the river on the Jersey
shore, he repaired to camp to spend the Sabbath.
Assembling a portion of the troops in an orchard, he
climbed into the forks of a tree and commenced relig
ious exercises. He gave out a hymn,-and as the sol
diers, like the troops of Cromwell at the battle of
Dunbar, " uplift it to the tune of Bangor or some
still higher score, and rolled it strong and great against
the sky," the British on the Island heard the sound of
the singing, and immediately directed some cannon to
play on the orchard from whence it proceeded. Soon
the heavy shot came crashing through the branches,
or went singing overhead, arresting for a moment the
voices that were lifted in worship. Mr. Duffield, to
avoid the danger and escape such rude interruption,
proposed they should adjourn behind an adjacent hil-

RETREAT THROUGH NEW JERSEY. 357
lock. They did so, and continued their worship while
the iron storm hurtled harmlessly overhead. The deep
thunder of the heavy cannon, shaking the ground on
which they stood, and the hissing shot filling the air
with their mysterious sounds, were not calculated to
lessen the eloquent patriot's fervor, or quench the glow
ing zeal that inspired him. -It was a strange, solemn
scene, yet, withal picturesque, which that group of
soldiers presented — listening with upturned faces to the
man of God as he urged them to fight manfully the
battles of the Lord, while the deep voiced cannon
uttered between each sentence their angry notes of
defiance. When the army, reduced to a handful, fled through
New Jersey, and night starless and rayless, and to
human seeming, endless, lay on the land, his great
sympathizing heart would not let him stay at home,
and he kept with it, sharing its hardships and expos
ures, and striving in every way to encourage the hearts
of the soldiers. In this disastrous retreat he had a
forewarning of his own fate should he, by the chances
of war, fall into the hands of the British. In a skir
mish, near Trenton, John Eossburgh, a brother chap
lain, lost his horse and was taken prisoner. Seeing his
prayer for life refused, he knelt down and committed his
soul in prayer to his Maker — and while in this attitude
was thrust through with the bayonet, and left weltering
in his blood. Mr. Duffield found the body hurriedly
buried by the neglected way-side, and had it removed
to a neighboring grave-yard and decently interred.
A similar fate would be his own should he be taken,

358 GEORGE DUFFIELD.
for the British knew that every such rebel parson was
more dangerous to the cause of the King than a whole
regiment of militia.
A short time after, he had a narrow escape from it.
Washington, continuing his retreat, abandoned Prince
ton and Trenton — destroying the bridges over the
stream near the latter place to delay the enemy's pur
suit. Mr. Duffield, worn out with fatigue, and. not
being apprised of this movement, had retired to a private
house near by to snatch a moment's repose. In the
meantime, the bridges were being rapidly destroyed.
A Quaker, who knew him, for he had once befriended
him when in danger from his principles, seeing what
was going on, endeavored to seek him out and warn
him of his danger. He had by some means ascertain
ed that lie was not with the army already on the far
ther side of the river, and hence knew he must be
somewhere in the place. Alarmed at the imminent
danger to his benefactor — for he was aware that the
British had set a price on his head — he hastened hither
and thither, and at last found him quietly taking his
repose, wholly unconscious of the departure of the
army. Informing him, in a hurried manner, of the
position of things, he told him that in a few minutes
his escape would be hopelessly cut off. Warmly thank
ing the Quaker for the timely information he had
taken such trouble to give him, he hastened to the
door, and mounting his horse, dashed away on a gallop
for the nearest bridge and overtook the rear just as
they had crossed, and were making preparations to
destroy it.

PROVIDENTIAL RELIEF. 359
Many incidents and details of this part of his life
are lost forever, while others are but indistinctly and
partially remembered, serving only to make us regret
that a complete account of his career as one of the
chaplains and patriotic clergy of the Eevolution can
not be given. His zeal for his country, however, never
abated, and his patriotic efforts never ceased till peace
and liberty blessed the land. He was a man of great
humor and exuberant spirits, yet withal deeply reli
gious in his feelings, and possessing an unwavering
trust in the promises of God. Whether it was his
suffering country or his suffering family that weighed
on his heart, he turned with an undoubting faith to
his Heavenly Father, feeling that He would send help
in His own good time. He did not escape the priva
tions which all more or less suffered, and often his
family were left without any apparent means of sub
sistence. On one occasion his son came to him on
Saturday night and said they were nearly out of pro
visions, and unless some could be purchased early
Monday morning they would be entirely destitute.
But he had not a cent in his pocket, and knew not
where to apply for aid, for all around him were as des
titute as himself. Instead, however, of allowing his
mind to be distressed at the prospect before him, and
diverted from the duties of the Sabbath, he dismissed
the subject, saying, " My son, the Lord will provide."
During the day a sealed letter was put in his hands,
which, in accordance with a rule he invariably prac
tised, he did not open till Monday morning. On open
ing it the next day he found it to contain a sum of

360 GEORGE DUFFIELD.
money sufficient to relieve all his present necessities.
He never knew who sent it.
The same grand, unwavering faith that God would
finally make us victorious in our efforts to be free,
never forsook him through all the vicissitudes of the
long and eventful struggle of the revolution.
Faith is never allowed a place in the philosophy of
history, when events are being traced to their causes
or probable results, though from creation till now it
has proved stronger than all physical force. But that
it had something to do with the success of our Revo
lution, none but a disbeliever in the Christian religion
can doubt.
With the return of peace, Mr. Duffield was again
quietly settled over his congregation in Philadelphia,
where he remained till his death, in February, 1790, in
the fifty-eighth year of his age.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
DAVID SANDFORD.
His Patriotism. — His Personal Appearance. — nis Eloquence. — Gives his
Salary to the Cause of Liberty. — Becomes Chaplain. — Expressive Coun
tenance. — Anecdote Illustrating It. — Stern Rebukes. — ills Piety. — His
Death. David Sandford was born in New Milford, Con
necticut, December 11, 1737. He graduated at Yale
College in 1755, and after finishing his theological ed
ucation was licensed to preach, and settled in Med way,
Massachusetts. Previous to the commencement of
hostilities he was an earnest advocate of the cause of
the Colonies, and when war actually began he launched
at once and with all his heart into the struggle.
Mingling with the assemblies of the people, he took a
leading part in every measure adopted for a vigorous
defence against the encroachments of Great Britain.
With a form almost perfect in its symmetry and
majestic bearing, and a countenance of rare beauty
and power of expression, his presence always arrested
the attention of the beholder. But when the full, rich
tones of his voice fell on the ear — now ringing, clear,
like the call of a bugle, and now melting into the
sweetest and most plaintive accents, his hearers were
held as by fascination.
Impassioned, fearless, and knowing well how to use
16

S62 DAVID SANDF0RD.
the rare gifts with which nature had endowed him, he
mastered all who came under the spell of his eloquence.
His high courage and strong will made him restive
under temporizing, timorous counsels, and when he
arose to denounce them, his fiice was like a thunder
cloud charged with wrath, and his powerful voice broke
in startling accents on the audience. With such a
man in every parish in the land, not a tory would have
been found bold enough to have lifted his head in op
position. Patriotism became a passion with him, and
when he called on his people to bear without murmur
ing their proportion of the expenses of the war, he
showed them an example of self-sacrifice by throwing
in his entire salary to swell the public treasury. But
even this did not content him. Not only did he devote
his rare eloquence and yearly stipend to the common
cause, but as the sound of war rolled over the land,
hastened to the army and volunteered his services as a
chaplain. He gave all he had to the service of his
country, and no doubt if he had not been restrained by
his profession would have been one of the most daring
officers in the army. Indeed, nature had endowed him
with rare gifts for a military leader. His commanding
personal appearance, his impulsive, fearless spirit, and
that power of expression in mere look, which will carry
men farther than words, eminently fitted him to be
one. This power of the countenance can never be de
scribed any more than it can be resisted. Washington
had it.
As an illustration of it in Mr. Sandford, he was once
preaching to the troops in a somewhat dilapidated

EXPRESSIVE COUNTENANCE. 363
church, when a board, which had been placed in one
of the shattered windows, blew down. The soldiers in
putting it back made so much noise that he was com
pelled to stop in his sermon. The board again being
blown in, the soldiers, the second time, replaced it,
arresting the services by the confusion they made.
The third time it fell in, and the soldiers rushing to
put it back, he thundered out " let that board alone."
One look at the pulpit and they slunk back to their
places. After the services were over a citizen asked
the commanding officer how he liked the eloquent
preacher. He replied, " Very well, but I should have
lilted him better if he had'nt sworn so." " Sworn,
Captain," exclaimed the man, " I did'nt hear any
oath." " Yes, be did," replied the former, " he said
(repeating a fearful oath) let that board alone." "You
certainly are mistaken, he uttered no oath whatever."
" Well," replied the Captain, " if he did not say those
very words he looked them." This became a bye-word,
and in after years whenever his brother ministers saw
the frown 'of displeasure darkening his open, manly
brow, they would say good-naturedly, " don't stvear
so." His features had the same power to express
the softer emotions, and when moved with pity, or
pleading with sinners, would melt the most stubborn
heart. The soldiers not only reverenced him for his
devoted piety, and loved him for his lofty patriotism,
but they admired him for his personal presence. Not
an officer in the brigade rode his horse with such
incomparable grace and ease as he. His known inflex
ibility of purpose, abrupt and often stern manner, also

364 DAVID SANDF0RD.
pleased them. These traits sometimes caused him to
be charged with want of courtesy. Once a clownish,
shabbily dressed licentiate asked him what system of
divinity he would recommend him to study, he replied,
with his stern expression of countenance, " Lord
Chesterfield to you." So on another occasion, a young
preacher telling him that he had refused a call to a
certain place on account of an extensive pine swamp
in the vicinity, he turned upon him, " Young man, it
is none of your business where God has put his pine
swamps!' Notwithstanding these peculiarities he was
a devoted minister, and one who knew him well says,
"His name was associated with early attempts to
propagate the gospel in the new settlements, and every
fresh effort that was put forth for the promotion of
Christianity, no matter on which side of the water,
met with his cordial and grateful approval.
As a counsellor he was sought after by the churches,
and was not unfrequently called away a great distance
to aid in healing ecclesiastical divisions. In 1807
he was struck with paralysis, from which he never
recovered, and after languishing three years, a suffering
invalid, he died, being in the seventy-fourth year of
his age.

CHAPTER XXXIX.
NATHAN KER.
His Birth and Ancestry. — Anecdote of his Grandfather. — His Patriotism. —
Abjures all Allegiance to Great Britain. — Tories and Indians. — Mas
sacre at Minisink. — Slaughter of Mr. Ker's Congregation. — Anecdote of
niM and Lafayette. — A Frieno of Washington. — Loans the Government
Eight Thousand Dollars, for wmcn lla received Nothing but " Old Lib
erty."' — Celebration at the Close of the War.
Nathan Ker, of Goshen, Orange County, hardly
comes under the head of chaplains, because he received
no special commission in the army, yet he had a gen
eral permit to pass through the forces and fortresses
scattered over West Point, Fishkill and Newburgh,
as a minister to exercise his functions as he saw
proper. He was born in Freehold, New Jersey, September
7th, 1736, and embraced religion under the preaching
of the celebrated William Tennent. Devoting himself
at once to the gospel ministry, he entered Princeton
College, and completing his education was licensed in
1763. For some years he labored as an itinerant, the
field of his duties extending over a thousand miles
along the continent. Subsequently he settled in
Goshen, where he remained till his death in 1804.
He took decided ground against the mother country in
her unjust demands on the Colonies, and when hostili
ties commenced, and American blood was shed, he

366 NATHAN KER.
called together his entire family, and making it an act
of religious worship, solemnly abjured all allegiance to
the British king and government, and took an oath be
fore God to stand firm and true to his country. Tall
and commanding in person, he bore so strong a resem
blance to Washington that he was often called " the
General." Of a firm and fearless spirit, he exerted the
wide influence he wielded, zealously and successfully for
the cause of liberty. He came honestly by his love of
freedom and unyielding opposition to tyranny, for his
grandfather before him suffered persecutions in Scotland
for exhibiting the same noble spirit. The latter being
asked one day (when such a question tested to the
utmost the courage of a man), " Who was the head
of the Church ?" fearlessly replied, " The Lord Jesus
Christ." That same night he received warning that ho
had better leave the kingdom. He immediately fled to
the mountains and hid himself in caves. But hunted
from one place of concealment to another like a beast
of prey, he finally made his escape to America. It was
but natural that the descendant of such a sire should
be a bold and uncompromising advocate of both civil
and religious liberty.
The whole region around Goshen was for a long time
subject to the ravages of the Indians and Tories, and
Count Pulaski was stationed at Minisink, near by,
with a body of cavalry to protect it. When, in Feb
ruary, 1779, this gallant officer was ordered to South
Carolina to aid General Lincoln, the Indians and Tories
once more took the field ; and in the following July
made a descent upon the town, killing and scattering

FIGHT WITH INDIANS. 367
the inhabitants, and burning their dwellings. When
the news reached Goshen, Dr. Tusten, colonel of the
militia, ordered his troops to meet him at Minisink,
the next day, with as many volunteers as would join
him. The congregation of such a fearless patriot as
Mr. Ker would not hesitate in a crisis so alarming, and
a hundred and forty-nine were at the rendezvous the
next morning. The flower of his flock were all there.
After a short consultation, the intrepid little band
started in pursuit of the Indians and were joined on the
way by a small force from Warwick, which swelled
their number to a hundred and sixty or seventy men.
Ascertaining from some of the inhabitants who had
escaped the massacre, that the marauding party was too
large for the small, undisciplined force under him, Col
onel Tusten advised to give over the pursuit, but Major
Meeker mounting his horse, and waving his sword
and shouting, "Let the brave men follow me, the
cowards may stay behind," swept away all caution and
prudence, and amid shouts of excitement they streamed
forward on the trail of the savages.
Continuing their march all night they came, at sun
rise, upon the smouldering camp-fires of the Indians,
which the latter had apparently but just left. The
number of these, showing clearly how large the force
was, again brought the officers to a stand, and a coun
cil was called to decide whether to continue or abandon
the pursuit. The majority were in favor of the latter
course, but the minority scoffing at the decision as
cowardly, the majority yielded, and the march was
resumed. Brandt, who commanded the tories and

368 NATHAN KER.
Indians, being made aware by his scouts of the num
ber and movements of the Americans, resolved at once
on their destruction. At nine in the morning, the
latter having ascended a high hill overlooking the Del
aware, saw the enemy below them making toward a
ford of the river. They immediately determined to in
tercept them there, and made their dispositions accord
ingly. But the moment they descended the heights, and
some intervening hills shut them from sight, Brandt
wheeled his column, and plunging into a deep, narrow
ravine, marched rapidly back until he got in their rear,
and then burst with his fearful war-cry upon them.
The Americans, though taken completely by surprise,
met the onset of the savages firmly, but, overwhelmed
by numbers, were gradually borne back until they
occupied scai-ce an acre of ground on the top of a
rocky hill. Here, in a hollow square, they withstood
their assailants hour after hour, until the hot July
sun stooped behind the western wilderness. Darkness
was now coming on, and their ammunition began to
give out. No longer able to keep at bay their savage
assailants, their firm formation was broken, and the
battle became a massacre. The night was made hide
ous with frantic jrells, while the gleaming tomahawk
descended on the strong and' helpless alike. Of all
that gallant little band, only thirty remained to tell
the story of how they fought, and how they fell. Mr.
Ker's congregation the next Sabbath was clad in
mourning, for most of the young men that composed
it had been slain, while thirty-three widows present,
told how fearful the blow had fallen on heads of fam-

ANECDOTE OF LAFAYETTE. 369
ilies. He himself repaired to the bloody field, and
spent the whole night with one of his aged parishion
ers searching for the dead body of his son.
The remembrance of this massacre made the troops
of Sullivan look with grim exultation afterwards on
the burning paradise of the Senecas and Cayugas, to
which they had applied the avenging torch.
A curious anecdote of Lafayette, in connection with
Mr. Ker, has been related to me by one of the descend
ants of the latter. While Washington lay at Bran-
dywine he had occasion to despatch Lafayette with
orders to a portion of the army in New York State.
The latter stopped on his way at an inn in Sussex Co.,
N. J., where he was compelled to sleep in the same
room with another traveler. When he awoke in the
morning he found his fellow lodger gone, and on dress
ing himself discovered that some valuable jewels and a
miniature had been abstracted from his pockets. Be
ing entrusted with important despatches, he could not
stop to take any measures for the recovery of his prop
erty, and hastened on his way. He made efforts, how
ever, at every place through which he passed, to obtain
tidings of the robber. Reaching Goshen, he endeavor
ed to make the landlord of the tavern where he halted,
acquainted with his troubles, but being unable to
speak Enghsh was wholly unsuccessful. The only
sentence he could utter so as to be understood was, " De
picture of de lady," " De picture of de lady," and 'De
picture of the lady' was constantly on his tongue, ac
companied with many anxious gestures. No one in
the place understanding French the rest of his lan-
16*

370 NATHAN KER.
guage could not be made out. They saw he was an
officer of rank, and hence were exceedingly anxious to
understand his wants, and as a last resort took him to
their pastor, thinking that he might be able to compre
hend him. Mr. Ker did not understand French, but
inferring from the appearance of the stranger that he
was an educated man, addressed him in Latin. The
countenance of the latter brightened at once, for he
had at last found a medium through which he could
make his troubles and wishes known. Mr. Ker soon
understood the whole case, and drawing from him an
accurate description of his fellow lodger, he sat down
and wrote several placards, describing the man and
stating the robbery. These he told the stranger to
distribute freely on his route. The latter thanked
him profusely, and taking his departure, mounted his
horse and hastened forward. A fortnight after, Mr.
Ker was surprised by a second visit from the stranger,
who, after warmly thanking him for his kindness,
stated that through it he had been able to secure the
robber and recover his property. He then, to the
astonishment of the clergyman, introduced himself as
Lafayette, and added, that the miniature, the loss of
which affected him more than that of his jewels, was
a portrait of his wife.
Mr. Ker's second daughter married the son of the
hero patriot and martyr, Rev. John Caldwell, whom
Lafayette took to his home at La Grange, and educa
ted as a son of his own.
During the latter part of the war, Lafayette, Ro-
chambeau, and Count de Grasse were accustomed to

FOURTH OF JULY. 371
visit the patriotic divine as personal friends. Wash
ington, also, was warmly attached to him, and when
at West Point and Newburgh frequently invited him
to dinner at head-quarters.
Out of his moderate fortune, this good man loaned
the government eight thousand dollars, for which he
received nothing in return except an old blind horse,
which he caused to be tenderly cared for, and which,
as a memento of the past, was christened " Old Lib
erty." When the war was over he had a celebration on the
4th of July in his parish, at which thirteen young
ladies dressed in white, with green sashes, and crowned
with laurel wreaths, appeared, representing the thir
teen States. As the venerable man looked over the
crowded seats, radiant with joyful faces, his heart
overflowed with devout thankfulness and he recounted
the past, and told how the Lord had led His people,
as He did Israel of old, to the promised land, till
the tears of his audience were mingled with his own.

CHAPTER XL.
JOHN HURST.
His Patriotism. — Sermon to the Soldiers.
John Hurst was chaplain to the 4th, 5th and 6th
battalions of Virginia troops that served in New Jersey
in 1777. He was a fearless man and an ardent patriot,
while no one more faithfully discharged his ministerial
duties than he. No incidents of his life have come to
my knowledge that require a particular notice. The
character of the man, however, and the manner in which
he performed the duties of chaplain, may be gathered
from the following extracts from a sermon preached by
him to the Virginia battalions, April 20th, 1777. The
sermon is dedicated to General Stephens — the dedica
tory note closing with the following pithy sentence :
"For after all the definitions of patriotism that ever
was or ever will be given, this is the quintessence of it,
the opposing ourselves foremost in the field of battle
against the enemies of our country." He took for his
text, Psalm cxxxvii. 5, G : " If I forget thee, oh Jeru
salem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do
not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof"'
of my mouth ; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my
chief joy."
" Reflections upon past enjoyments tend only to the

PATRIOTIC DISCOURSE 373
aggravation of present sufferings, and yet I know not
how — the mind of man is ever fondly disposed to draw
the painful parallel betwixt the happiness he once pos
sessed and the misery he now feels. This was true of
the captive Israelites, as is pathetically described in the
Psalm before us. ' By the rivers of Babylon there we
sat down, yea, we wept when we remembered Zion.
We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst
thereof.' As the soul in affliction is ever apt to
dwell upon any circumstance which heightens the
soitow, he here represents the harp, that sacred
instrument devoted to his God, now laid aside,
silent and neglected, for how indeed could he 'sing
the Lord's song in a strange land.' Oppression and
servitude throw a damp upon every noble faculty,
no wonder, then, the sacred musician could ill exert
the heavenly harmony under the dispiriting pressure
of a foreign tyranny. 'How shall we sing the
Lord's song,' &c. Here the faithful patriot turns
by a very natural transition from lamenting over
his country's fate to the strongest professions of pre
serving his affections forever inviolate towards her.
' If I forget her, may my right hand forget her cun
ning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave
to the roof of my mouth ; if I prefer not Jerusalem
above my chief joy.' "
Starting from this point he discourses eloquently of
the love of countiy as acknowledged and honored in
all past times among the Romans, and the obligations
each one is under to act for his countiy, and of the mo
tives that prompt him to it, and then says : " Let us

374 JOHN HURST,
change the scene and take a cursory view of our own
case. Thanks and praise be to the Lord God of armies,
it is our felicity not to be members of such a society,
not to be in so abject and humiliating a state as those
Roman colonies were. We have never yet been con
quered — we never yet tamely received laws from a
tyrant, nor never will while the cause of religion, the
cause of nature and of nature's God cry aloud, or even
whisper resistance to an oppressor's execrated power.
The gloomy cloud that has long been gathering and
hovering over Jerusalem is indeed still formidable, and
demands our utmost exertions to effect its dispersion, and
this great and wished-for good is, in all human proba
bility, the most likely to be accomplished by firmness,
unanimity, perseverance and a fixed determination,
strenuously to execute and defend what our Conti
nental Congress, provincial assemblies and command
ing officers, and so forth, shall wisely and prudently
resolve. " 'Let fools for modes of government contest,
That which is best administered is best.' "
He then describes the kind of liberty for
which they are contending. " It is not," he says,
"licentiousness, nor a war of conquest," but a
struggle for "their rights, the very liberty England
always contended for, and which has made her glo
rious." His sermons were always well adapted to in
spire the soldiers who listened to them with the
deepest attention. A good man, and an earnest

STAND FOR FREEDOM.. 375
patriot, he, with the thousand other clergymen of
the land, presented a noble front in the cause of
freedom, and helped to swell the lofty enthusiasm
that seven long years of toil and suffering could not
quench.

CHAPTER XLI.
WILLIAM MoKAY TENNENT.
Uncertainty as to his Identity with the sfeject of the Following Sketch. — ¦
Patriotic Sermon delivered before the Troops at Ticonderoga. — His Ca
reer after the War. — His Death.
There were several Tennents who were clergymen
at the time of the Revolutionary war, and who took
an active part in the struggle of the Colonies. One
was a chaplain in the army at Ticonderoga, and
though I can not positively ascertain which, circum
stances all seem to point to William McKay Tennent,
who was born in 1741. He graduated at the college
of New Jersey in 1763, and was ordained to preach in
1772. He married the daughter of Dr. Rodders, of
New York, a distinguished patriot, and a chaplain in
the army, and was settled in Greenfield, Connecticut.
He was a man of polished manners, and distinguished
for his amiability of temper and generous hospitality.
Nothing is known of his career as chaplain except the
following sermon :
" Delivered at the head of Cols. Mott's and Swift's
regiments when under arms, expecting the approach
of the enemy hourly, at Mount Independence, Sunday,
October 20th, 1776.
" Be not ye afraid of them : remember the Lord,
which is great and terrible, and fight for your brethren,

SERMON TO SOLDIERS. 377
your sons, and your daughters, your wives, and your
houses." Nehemiah, iv. 14.
" No exultation can be more applicable and perti
nent for us, my dear countrymen and fellow-soldiers,
at this time, and under our circumstances, than this
which was delivered by good Nehemiah to the Jews,
when their proud, their haughty, and oppressive ene
mies were coming upon them for their destruction.
"When danger approaches it is natural for man to
be afraid, and our fears generally increase in proportion
to our dangers, and sometimes by indulging the former
we are rendered incapable of escaping the evil which
impends. It is, therefore, necessary to keep a guard
upon this passion lest, in its excess, it should prove
ruinous. This is necessary in an especial manner for
the soldier. ' Be not ye afraid of them ' is the voice
of Heaven, the voice of your bleeding country, the
voice of the Church, and the voice of all who are dear
to" you — with respect to the approaching foe. The
hour is expected when, with the blessing of Heaven,
you will have it in your power to do the most signal,
important, and lasting services to your native land.
She asks, she entreats, she calls with a solemn, but
pathetic tone — yea, she demands your service, your
most vigorous exertions to save her from ruin. Let
her not be disappointed, but, as she has honored you
with martial attire for her defense, do her honor, do
yourselves honor by using the weapons of your warfare
with that heroism, firmness, and magnanimity which
the cause requires. When our enemy approaches, be
ye not afraid of him ; let not your spirits sink, but

378 WILLIAM MCKAY TENNENT.
rather rejoice that you have an opportunity to con
tribute your whole might for the deliverance of your
country from the disturbers of the common peace, and
robbers of the rights of mankind. I mean not that
you should entertain a contemptible idea of the
strength of your enemy. They will no doubt come
.strong prepared to the battle, and will fight valiantly.
But they fight in an unrighteous cause — they are
armed to deprive us of our liberty and property, they
are armed to ruin our families, to murder both them
and us, or to reduce us to the most abject slavery.
And will not you, gentlemen, under these circumstan
ces, fight valiantly, too. Shall your courage be less
than theirs when all is at stake. Consider they are
made of the same materials with yourselves. Though
transported from foreign climes, they are flesh and
blood. They are but men, subject to the like hopes
and fears with yourselves, and a ball well directed will
humble them as quick as any, even the feeblest of you.
Be not ye, therefore, afraid of them, for they are not
invincible. Be not afraid of them, because they are
engaged in a wicked and unrighteous cause, which the
righteous Lord abhorreth. Be not afraid of them
though their numbers should be superior to yours,
because you are possessed of advantages which they
have not — you have the ground, and all the works you
have made on it. Be not afraid of them, because
the want of courage will prove your ruin. There is
nothing but victory, or an honourable death before
you. There is no retreat for you, and if you are taken
prisoners, no doubt you will soon be discharged as our

SERMON TO SOLDIERS. 379
friends who were lately captured were, with their bag
gage and a few days' provision, but with this additional
and horrid circumstance, that before you are two miles
from this encampment you will be overtaken in your
disarmed condition by savages, Canadians, and Hes
sians, who will at once plunder you, and sacrifice your
lives with a barbarity which can not be described.
Gen. Carleton's late conduct was only designed to
deceive — his clemency is to ba dreaded. Expect not
mercy from an enemy, who is fighting in support of
tyranny ; it can not, it will not be shown any longer
than it i3 for his interest. The scheme of this cun
ning man is evidently this — he supposed that you
would conclude from what was past, that if you were
compelled to a hot engagement, you would rather
submit, expecting the same lenity which your captive
friends have had, than fight as the sons of freedom
ought to fight. Let the fox be catched in his own
trap. Believe him to be your bitter enemy, and ac
cording to Scripture language, reward your enemies,
and youf country's enemies even as they have rewarded
you, and render double to them. Be not afraid of
them : remember the Lord, which is great and terrible.
Call to remembrance His Almighty name. Let the
strength of Israel be your trust. Implore His aid and
assistance. Under His banner go forth to battle. In
His name and strength meet the approaching foe,
determined to conquer or gloriously die. Eemember
His name, which is great and terrible — sufficiently
great and terrible to vanquish your enemies, and cause
them to flee before you : and fight for your brethren,

S80 WILLIAM McKAY TENNENT.
your sons, and your daughters, your wives, and your
homes. Do the work of the Lord faithfully. Play
the men for your kindred and your estates, which are
in jeopardy. So shall those of you who fall in battle
be immortalized for your valor : your names shall be
had in grateful remembrance by America's latest
posterity ; and those of you, whose lives shall be spar
ed in the bloody conflict, shall return with great joy
to your friends, and be received with the high honor
of conquerors and deliverers of this oppressed land.
Your officers, I doubt not, will set you an example,
and I hope you will all be engaged to support the honor
of New England, and of the State, in a particular
manner, which has employed you. Your wives and
children, your aged parents, your brethren and sisters,
look to you, under God, for salvation. The peace of
all our frontier inhabitants depends upon your success.
You have the prayers of thousands for victory, and be
assured, if you are victorious, the enemy will from
henceforward cease to expect a submission from these
United States. If you are victorious, the virgins of
our land, and all your dear connexions will hail you
welcome upon your return with high applause and
great joy, yea, Zion herself will be glad. May the
Lord inspire you all with that magnanimity which
makes the great and successful soldier. May He cover
your heads in the day of battle, and crown our arms
with victory, and the glory shall be given to Father,
the Son, and Holy Ghost, world without end. Amen."
Such sermons, on the verge of an expected battle,
had a powerful effect on the soldiers.

HIS DEATH. 381
At the close of the war Mr. Tennent removed to
Abingdon, near Philadelphia. He afterward became
trustee of Princeton College, and in 1794 received the
degree of Doctor of Divinity from Yale College. He
died in 1810, after a protracted illness, which he bore,
without murmuring, to its close.

CHAPTER XLII.
MR. BOARDMAN.
Chaplain to Durkee's T.egiment. — His Diary.
A strong doubt exists as to the proper name to be
placed at the head of this sketch. My utmost efforts
have failed to discover who was the " chaplain of
Durkee's regiment," from whose diary the following
extract is taken. I have been able to learn only that
his name was probably Boardman.
"Powle's Hook, Sept. 15th, 1776. After Long
Island was evacuated, it was judged impossible to hold
the city of New York, and for several days the artillery
and stores of every kind had been removing, and last
night the sick were ordered to Newark, in the Jerseys,
but most of them could be got no farther than this
place and Hoebuck, and as there is but one house at
each of these places, many were obliged to lie in the
open air till this morning, whose distress, when I
walked out at daybreak, gave me a livelier idea of the
horrors of war than any thing I ever met with before.
The commandant ordered them every thing for their
comfort that the place afforded, and immediately for
warded them to the place appointed and prepared for
them. " About eight this morning three large ships came

EXTRACTS FROM DIARY. 383
to sail and made up towards the Hook. The garri
son, consisting of the 20th Continental regiment (Col.
Durkee's), and a regiment of Jersey militia (Col.
Duyckinck's), were ordered into our works. Soon
after they had taken their posts, the ships came up
near Jersey shore to avoid our shot from the grand
battery (the removal of the cannon from which they
were ignorant of), and as they passed up the North
Eiver kept up an incessant fire upon us, their shot (a
great part of which was grape) raked the whole Hook,
but providentially one horse was all the loss we sus
tained by it. The fire was briskly returned from our
batteiy by Capt. Dana, who commanded a company of
the train on this station. It gave me great pleasure to
see the spirit of the troops around me, who were evi
dently animated by the whistling of the enemy's shot,
which often struck so near them as to cover them with
dust. "About eleven o'clock a furious cannonade was
heard a little above New York, and before night
mumbers came over from the city and informed us
that it was evacuated by our troops, and about sunset
we saw the tyrant's flag floating on Fort George.*
Having received intelligence that a number of our
troops were in the city, and the enemy spread across
the island above, two small parties were ordered to
assist them in making their escape. Two captains,
with about forty men, two brass howitzers, and about
two tons of military stores, were brought off by one
* On the Battery.

384 MR. BOARDMAN.
of them ; the other party, consisting of five men only,
were fired upon by the enemy (supposed to be Tories,
who have committed a number of robberies on the
'friends of America), when one Jesse Squire, of Nor
wich, was wounded, who, together with another, fell
into their hands.
" 16th. About two o'clock this morning an attempt
was made to burn the ships that passed up the North
Eiver yesterday, and anchored about three miles above
us, one of them (the Eenown, of fifty guns) was grap
pled, but broke her grappling, and came down by us
again. Another cannonade ensued, but no damage
was received on our side. The brave Col. Duyckinck,
who did all he could to retain his men, could now keep
his regiment no longer, but was obliged to retreat to
Bergen, from Avhich time Col. Durkee was left on the
Hook with only a part of his regiment, consisting of
about three hundred effective men.
" 17th. An express arrived with information that
Col. Williams, from Connecticut, was ordered to re
inforce us, and might be expected next day, but was
not able to join us till our retreat to Bergen. This
day a quantity of lead, musket ball and buck shot was
discovered in a suspected house about a mile and a
half above us, and brought down to this place and
properly secured for the United States. Towards night
the Eenown returned back to her station up the North
River, but kept near the eastern shore to avoid the
shot from our battery, which, however, kept up a
brisk fire upon her as long as she was within reach.
"18th. Nothing material happened here— just at

NEW YORK ON FIRE. 385
evening intelEgence was received that the brave Lieu
tenant Col. Knowlton, of our regiment, was killed in the
action that happened a little below Kingsbridge, on
Monday, as he was fighting, with undaunted courage,
at the head of a body of rangers, the command of
which was assigned him. The joy of the success that
action would have occasioned was greatly lessened in
this department by the loss of an officer so greatly re
spected and beloved.
"20th. The Renown returned back again to the
fleet, and though she passed close in with the New
York shore, yet, as there was very little wind, about
forty shot from our battery were fired at her, many of
which took effect. She lay aU next day upon a careen
to repair.
" 21st. At two we were waked up by the guards,
who informed us that New York was on fire. As the
fire began at the south-east end of the city, a little east
of the grand battery, it was spread by a strong south
wind, first on the East River, and then northward,
across the Broadway opposite to , the old English
church (if I mistake not the name), from thence ifc
consumed all before it between Broadway and the
North River, near to the college, laying about one third
part of the city in ashes (in the opinion of those best
acquainted with it), and had not the wind, as it veered
to the west died away, the remainder of that nest of
vipers would have been destroyed.
" This evening a seaman, who said he belonged to
Providence, and that he was taken and was obliged to
fight against his countrymen on board the Eoebuck,
17

386 MR. BOARDMAN.
made his escape by swimming from New York to this
place. He informed, that the men on board the Roe
buck were very sickly ; that they had lost one hundred
since they left the capes of Virginia. He also gave
notice that preparations had been made to attack this
post ; that a large body of troops in boats (which we
discovered on the opposite shore above us this after
noon) were to make a descent above us, and endeavor
to cut off our retreat ; that it was to have been ex
ecuted this morning, but the fire prevented.
" 22nd. As no reinforcements could be sent us, we
received orders this morning to remove our artillery,
stores, and baggage, and hold ourselves in readiness to
retreat ; before night most of them were removed.
" About nine A. M., we saw the enemy embarking
in flat bottomed boats about two miles above us, who
appeared in large numbers on the shore after they
(about forty) were full. Four ships at the same time
came to sail below and stood up towards us, but they
soon came to anchor again, and the boats which had
pushed off, returned back. Had they come at this
time we might either have retired and left them large
quantities of artillery and stores, or fought their army
and navy at the same time with our small detachment,
and that under every disadvantage — but they saw fit
to retire to get more strength, as appeared afterwards,
though they could not be ignorant of our weakness,
as our men were paraded every day in full view of
them. " 23rd. At one o'clock, P. M. having removed every
thing of value, we were ordered to retreat from the

ARMY IN THE JERSEYS. 387
Hook. As soon as we began our march, four ships
came up and anchored near the shore around the
Hook. At the same time a number of boats and
floating batteries came down from just above New
York — the latter run up into the cove opposite the
causeway that leads to Bergen. After taking consid
erable time to see that there was nobody to hurt them,
they began a most furious cannonade on our empty
works, which continued till they had wearied them
selves. In a word, they dared to come much nearer,
and displayed the boasted British valor in much
brighter colors than ever they had while there remain
ed a single man to oppose them. Meanwhile, our
little battalion retreated with drums beating, and
colors flying to Bergen, and before night the brave
Britons ventured on shore and took possession of our
evacuated works, where they have taken every pre
caution to prevent our formidable detachment from
returning, and driving them from a post, which, with
so great a display of heroism, they have got posses
sion of.
" The post we now possess covers the Jerseys. Here
we are reinforced by a number of regiments — more
are daily coming in — the sick are recovering — the
troops in high spirits, and we have no fear, but we
shaU be able to maintain our ground against all the
banditti of George the Third."
The subsequent overthrow of the American army
dispelled this brave chaplain's immediate hopes, and
what become of him in the turbulent events that fol
lowed I have been unable to ascertain.

388 MR. BOARDMAN.
Such waifs, drifting down to us from the past, show
us how many valuable incidents respecting the revo
lutionary war might have been saved from oblivion
had efforts been made a half century ago to have col
lected them together.

CHAPTER XLIII.
MR. MAGOON.
In the absence of details respecting this noble
clergyman, I cannot give a better idea of his patriotic
course in the Revolution than by presenting the fol
lowing extracts from an address delivered by him to
Haslett's battalion on its parade in Dover, Delaware,
May, 1776. After speaking in general terms of the
necessity of pubhc spirit — how it made a people great
and prosperous — and showing how righteousness " ex-
alteth a nation" and sin degrades it ; and the import
ance of cherishing good and patriotic sentiments, he
turned directly to the soldiers and said : " You love
your country, I venture to affirm, and are not stran
gers to the full meaning of that honorable word. A
Roman orator and patriot of celebrated fame mention
ing the subject expresses himself thus : ' Our parents
are dear, our children are dear, our relations, our near
acquaintances, but our country comprehends every en
dearment and the tender ties and charities of all, for
which what good man would hesitate to dare to die.'
And doth not the great St. Paul's declaration breathe
a like patriotic spirit, ' None of us Eveth to himself,
and no man dieth to himself.' It is really grand, it is
solemnly pleasing to behold at a perilous, alarming

390 MR. MAGOON.
conjuncture so many stepping forward voluntarily as
thousands and thousands in these ^United Colonies
have done, prepared to face any danger, ready to en
counter any difficulties, rather than that the free should
become enslaved, and the once happy be reduced to
wretchedness. * * * Perhaps never were freemen
or patriots or warriors or heroes called forth for nobler
purposes than we have now in prospect. We are
contending for no other prize than that we may continue
to be free, that the fruits of our honest labor may be
our own, that we may be delivered from the hands of
those who would oppress us — that our civil and reli
gious happiness may be secured, and that we may be
able to transmit those blessings on a firm foundation
to our children and generations after them. It is not
in rebellion, it is not in the violation of the spirit of
law and contempt of the constitution, that we arise
and join with such amazing unanimity. No, ye illus
trious shades of our pious ancestors, and ye martyrs of
of whatever age or clime who have shed your tears and
your blood for dying freedom ! Ye cloud of witnesses
with which we are encompassed about, we declare as in
your presence, and we declare to the whole earth, that
such are not our aims, that our public measures result
from a dreadful necessity — that America hath resisted
purely on the footing of self-preservation."
The closing sentiment of this address applies with
peculiar force to our own times. It lies at the bottom
of the terrible uprising of the North to put down the
rebellion that threatens the integrity of our govern
ment. The President of the United States, every

PAST AND PRESENT. 391
officer and every chaplain in the army might say wilh
truth : " It is not in rebellion, it is not in violation
of the spirit of law and contempt of the Constitution,
that we arise and join with such amazing unanimity.
No, ye illustrious shades of our pious ancestors, and
ye martyrs of whatever age or clime, who have shed
your tears and your blood for dying freedom. Ye
cloud of toitnesses with which we are encompassed
about, we declare as in your presence, and we declare
to the whole earth, that such are not our aims — that
our public measures result from a dreadful necessity —
that America hath resisted purely on the footing of
self-preservation."

CHAPTER XLIV.
THOMAS COOMBS.
Sermon on Fast-day and Patriotic Sentiments.
This patriotic chaplain being called upon to preach
a sermon on the occasion of a fast proclaimed by Con
gress, took for his text, 2d Chronicles, xx. 12, 13 : "0
our God, wilt thou not judge them ? for we have no
might against this great company that cometh against
us ; neither know we what to do : but our eyes are
upon thee. And all Judah stood before the Lord,
with their little ones, their wives and their children."
After describing the circumstances which produced this
prayer, and speaking of the certainty of God's assist
ance to those who call on Him in truth, he passes to
the consideration of our own country, and says :
" We have asked but for peace, Eberty and safety
derived from Heaven and the Constitution — sanctified
by the faith of charters, and which no power on earth,
without our own consent, hath authority to disannul,
and since I am called to the office of speaking before
you on this subject, it is my duty to declare that they
are privileges which, had we been so tame as to have
surrendered without a struggle, we should have been
guilty of treason to posterity."
Again : " We have the authority of God's own de-

SERMON ON FAST DAY. 393
claration, ' that all things shall work together for good
to them that love God ;' and under the influence of
this cheering thought we may reasonably indulge the
expectation that out of the present jarring interests a
new and more perfect system will arise which, rescued
from the capricious mutilations of arbitrary men, shall
perpetuate the liberties of these United" Colonies to
the end of time : for God will take our cause into his
hand, and will help the oppressed unto their right,
that the men of the earth be no more exalted against
us, and though Assur come out against us with
ten thousands of his army, the multitude whereof
hath stopped the torrents, and their horsemen have
covered the hills — though he boasteth that he will
burn up our borders, and kill our young men with the
sword, the Almighty Lord shalt disappoint them and
confound their impious devices."

CHAPTER XLV.
A ROMAN CATHOLIC CHAPLAIN.
Catholics have Fought with Protestants from the first foe Liberty. —
Caube of this Singular Coincidence, — Fourth of July Address.
It is a curious fact that in our first struggle for
liberty, and in all the wars that the republic has since
waged, even till now, when the North is struggling
against a monstrous rebelEon, Roman Catholic chap
lains have sent up their prayers side by side with
protestant ones. Though so far apart in every other
enterprise, they have presented the anomalous specta
cle of working together to support free institutions.
In the revolution we were emphatically a purely prot
estant people, but our French allies were Roman
Catholics, and the chaplains they brought with them,
though not governed by the same motives and spirit
that actuated our clergy, manifested the deepest inter
est in our struggle for independence, and expressed the
warmest hopes for our success. Since then the large
number of foreign born citizens in our army have
made them in times of war a necessary part of its
organization. Whole regiments would be without
chaplains entirely were it not so.
In the revolution the religious exercises were, of
course, in French, and hence we know little of their
character ; but the following translation of an address,

ADDRESS IN PHILADELPHIA, 395
delivered in a Roman Catholic church in Philadelphia,
on the 4th of July, 1779, is a fair illustration of the
spirit they exhibited throughout. After a Te Deum
was chanted, the chaplain came forward and said : —
" Gentlemen, we are assembled to celebrate the anni
versary of that day which Providence had marked in
His eternal decrees to become the epocha of liberty
and independence to the thirteen United States of
America. That being, whose Almighty hand holds
all existence beneath its dominion, undoubtedly pro
duces in the depth of His wisdom those great events
which astonish the universe, and of which the most
presumptuous, though instrumental in accomplishing,
dare not attribute to themselves the merit. But the
finger of God is still more peculiarly evident in the
happy, the glorious revolution which calls forth this
day's festivity. He hath struck the oppressors of
a people, free and peaceable, with the spirit of delu
sion, which always renders the wicked the artificers
of their own proper misfortunes. Permit me, my dear
brethren, citizens of the United ; States, to address
you on this occasion. It is God, the all-powerful
God, who hath directed your steps when you knew
not where to apply for counsel — who, when you were
without arms, fought for you with the sword of eternal
justice — who, when you were in adversity, poured into
your hearts the spirit of courage, of wisdom, and of
fortitude ; and who has at length raised up for your
support a youthful sovereign, whose virtues bless and
adorn a sensible, a faithful, and a generous nation.
This nation has blended her interests with your inter-

396 A ROMAN CATHOLIC CHAPLAIN.
ests, and her sentiments with yours. She participates
in all your joys, and this day unites her voice to yours
at the foot of the altars of the eternal God to cele
brate that glorious revolution, which has placed the
sons of America among the free and independent na
tions of the earth.
" We have nothing to apprehend but the anger of
heaven, or that the measure of our guilt should exceed
the measure of His mercy. Let us, then, prostrate
ourselves at the feet of the immortal God, who holds
the fate of empires in His hands, and raises them up
at His pleasure, or breaks them to dust — let us con
jure Him to enlighten our enemies, and to dispose
their hearts to enjoy that tranquillity and happiness
which, the revolution we now celebrate, has estabEshed
for a great part of the human race — let us implore
Him to conduct us by the way which His providence
has marked out for arriving at so desirable an end — let
us offer unto Him hearts imbued with sentiments of
love, consecrated by religion, by humanity, and patri
otism. Never is the august ministry of His altars
more acceptable to His Divine Majesty than when it
lays at His feet homages, offerings, and vows, so pure,
so worthy of the common parent of mankind. God
will not reject our joy, for He is the, author of it, nor
will He reject our prayers, for they ask but the full
accomplishment of His decrees that He hath mani
fested. Filled with this spirit, let us, in concert with
each other, raise our hearts to the Eternal — let us
implore His infinite mercy to be pleased to inspire the
rulers of both nations with the wisdom and forco

ADDRESS IN PHILADELPHIA. 397
necessary to perfect what it hath begun. Let us, in a
word, unite our voices to' beseech Him to dispense His
blessings upon the counsels and arms of the allies —
that we may soon enjoy the sweets of a peace which
will cement the union, and establish the prosperity of
the two empires. It is with this view we shall cause
the canticle to be performed, which the custom of the
Catholic Church hath consecrated, to be at once a
testimonial of public joy, a thanksgiving for benefits
received from heaven, and a prayer for the continuance
of its success."

CHAPTER XLVI.
A CHAPLAIN AT BRANDTWINE.
Address before the Battle.
There are contradictory opinions about the follow
ing sermon said to be delivered on the eve of the battle
of Brandywine. Hence I give it without comments,
just as I find it. The name of the chaplain is said to
have been Trout.
"They that take the sword shall perish by the
sword!" — Matt. xxvi. 52.
" Soldiers and countrymen ! We have met this
evening, perhaps, for the last time. We have shared
the toil of the march, the peril of the fight, the dismay
of the retreat — alike we have endured cold and hunger,
the contumely of the infernal foe, and outrage of the
foreign oppressor. We have sat night after night, be
side the same camp fire, shared the same rough soldiers'
fare ; — we have together heard the roll of the reveille
which called us to duty, or the beat of the tattoo which
gave the signal for the hardy sleep of the soldier, with
the earth for his bed, and his knapsack for a pillow.
And now soldiers and brethren, we have met in the
peaceful valley, on the eve of the battle, while the
sunlight is dying away behind yonder heights, the sun-

ADDRESS BEFORE THE BATTLE. 399
light that to-morrow morn will glimmer on scenes of
blood. We have met amid the whitening tents of our
encampment ; in times of terror and gloom have we
gathered together. God grant it may not be for the
last time.
"It is a solemn moment. Brethren, does not the
solemn voice of nature seem to echo the sympathies
of the town ? The flag of our countiy droops heavily
from yonder staff. The breeze has died away along
the green plain of Chadd's ford — the plain that spreads
before us glistening in sunlight — the heights of the
Brandywine arise dark and gloomy beyond the waters
of yonder stream, and all nature holds a pause of
solemn silence on the eve of the uproar of the blood
shed and strife of to-morrow.
" ' They that take the sword shall perish by the
sword,' and have they not taken the sword ?
" Let the blood-stained valley — the desolated homes
— the burned farm house — the murdered farmer — let
the whitening bones of our own countrymen answer !
Let the starving mother with the babe clinging to her
withered breast, let her answer — with the death rattle
mingling with the murmuring tones that mark the last
struggle for Efe ; let the dying mother and her babe
answer !
" It was but a day past, and our land slept in the
light of peace. War was not here, wrong was not
here. Fraud, and woe, and misery and want dwelt
not among us. From the eternal solitude of the green
woods, arose the blue smoke of the settler's cabin ;
and golden fields of corn looked forth from amid the

400 A CHAPLAIN AT BR ANDY WINE,
waste of the wilderness, and the glad music of human
voices awoke the silence of the forest.
" Now ! God of mercy ! Behold the change. Under
the shadow of a pretext, under the sanctity of the
name of God — invoking the Redeemer to their aid, do
these foreign hirelings slay our people. They throng,
our towns, they darken our plains, and now they en
compass our posts on the lonely plain of Chadd's
Ford. " 'They that take the sword shaU perish by the
sword.' Brethren ! think me not unworthy of belief,
when I tell you that the doom of the Britisher is
near ! Think me not vain when I tell you that
beyond the cloud which now enshrouds us, I see
gathering thick and fast, the darker cloud and the
blacker storm of Divine Retribution ! They may
conquer us on the morrow ! — might and wrong may
prevail, and we may be driven from the field — but the
hour of God's vengeance will come ! Aye, if in the
vast solitudes of eternal space, if in the heart of the
boundless universe, there throbs the being of an awful
God, quick to revenge and sure to punish guilt, there
will the man, George of Brunswick, called King, feel
in his brain and in his heart the vengeance of the eter
nal Jehovah ! a blight will be upon his life — a with
ered brain, an accursed intellect ; a bEght will be upon
his children, and his people. Great God ! how dread
the punishment !
" Soldiers ! I look around upon your familiar faces
with a strange interest. To-morrow we will all go
forth to battle — for need I tell you that your unworthy

ADDRESS BEFORE THE BATTLE. 401
minister will march with you, invoking God's aid in
the fight. We will march forth to battle. Need I
exhort you to fight the good fight for your homesteads,
your wives, and your children.
"And in the hour of battle when all around is
darkness, Et by the lurid cannon glare, and the pierc
ing musket flash, when the wounded strew the ground
and the dead Etter your path. Then remember, boI-
diers, that God is with you. The eternal God is with
you, and fights for you. God ! the awful, the infinite,
fights for you and you will triumph.
" ' They that take the sword shall perish by the
sword.' You have taken the sword ; but not in the spirit of
wrong and revenge. You have taken the sword for
your homes, for your wives, and for your little ones.
You have taken the sword for truth, for justice, and
for right, and to you the promise is, be of good cheer,
for your foes have taken the sword in defiance of all
man holds dear. They shall perish by the sword.
" And now, brethren and soldiers, I bid you all fare
well. Many of us may fall in the fight of to-morrow.
God rest the souls of the fallen — many of us may live
to tell the story of the fight of to-morrow, and in the
memory of all will rest the quiet scenes of this au
tumnal night.
" Solemn twilight advances over the valley ; the
woods on the opposite heights fling their long shadows
over the green of the meadow — around us are the tents
of the continental host — the suppressed bustle of the
camp, the hurried tread, of the soldiers to and fro

402 A CHAPLAIN AT BBANDYWINE.
among the tents, the stillness that marks the eve of
battle. " When we meet again, may the long shadows of
twilight be flung over a peaceful land. God in heaven
grant it ! Amen."

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