_'^^ 
 
 p¥-% 
 
 t; 
 
 % 
 
 .« 
 
 ^>':«|- 
 
 .1;. 
 
 
 ^'l 
 
 
 r#i^'4^;v" 
 
 ^.. 
 
 E 
 
 t* 
 
 1^ 
 
 
UlBRARY OF CONGRESS, 
 
 I [FORCE collection'.] ^ 
 
 ^ ^ $ 
 
 I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA.^ 
 
ii' 
 
 m- 
 
 m 
 

 158 
 
 IN COMMEMORATION OF 
 
 'THE SIXTH OF SErTEMBEU, ITISl, 
 
 aPOKEK OfC 
 
 S^PT. 6, 1325. . 
 
 .^n^' 
 
 BY WILLIAM F, BRAINARD, 
 
 JS-EJV'LONDOJ'r: 
 
 r-falSTED UNDEE THE DiEECTlOK OF THE COMMITTEE, 
 
 1825. 
 

 
 \ 
 
 ■••^»^^\ .- ;l^^' 
 
 JSTeW'London, /September 6th^ 1826. 
 fVe, the subscribers, a committee appointed for 
 ihis purpose, present you the thanks of the audi- 
 ence assembled on Groton Heights, the 6th of 
 September, 1 825, for the excellent and appropri- 
 ate oration by you delivered, and request a copy 
 for publication. 
 
 Elias Perkiks, 
 
 S. F. Denisoxv, J. Committee. 
 
 James Mitchel, 
 
 fJTi F» Brainard^ Esq. 
 
 
ADDRESS, &0. 
 
 There is a tendency in our nature, to ven- 
 erate what is ancient, and to wonder at what is 
 distant. This leads us to pry into the concerns 
 of antiquity, searching after statesmen and he- 
 roes, who, through the mist of the distance, 
 loom up into geniuses and giants. It leads us 
 to explore climates and countries, which we 
 paint the more fancifully, the further they are off. 
 The Fortunate Islands are places in the west ; 
 but where abouts in point of longitude, has nev- 
 er been discovered. With respect to any event 
 in history, wherein individuals are said to have 
 signalized themselves, by personal prowess, 
 the older the event, and the more remote 
 the place, we believe with more credulity, and 
 admire with more astonishment. Those who 
 fought at Thebes and lUium were " joined with 
 auxiUiar Gods ;" and as the story goes, were, 
 sometimes, more than a match for them. Those 
 who first ventured on the water, under Jason, 
 
to explore their waj from the streights of the 
 Dardanelles, to the Black Sea, were regarded 
 as heroes, by the crew of Columbus ; and the 
 crew of Columbus were venerated, m theh- turn, 
 hj the sailors of Cooke and Parry. — Bold was 
 the man who first ventured on the sea : Yet how 
 many, from this very region under our eye, are 
 in the habit of daring its perils. How many, 
 from this spot, have explored the world ; how 
 many, have met the shock of the Iceberg, or been 
 shipwrecked on the shore, or have sickened and 
 died, in foreign climates, or have been drowned 
 in the ocean ! A single instance is selected out 
 of many. 
 
 John Ledyard the traveller, was a native of 
 this place. If ever a national tale should be 
 written in this country, by a competent hand, 
 John Ledyard the traveller, must be one of its 
 characters. The enthusiasm of that man, and the 
 freedom, with which he subjected a great consti- 
 tution to bodily suffermg, would put into shade 
 all the heroes of Scottish romance. In him, as 
 far as concerned their v>^anderings, was concen- 
 trated the whole spirit of the pilgrims, with the 
 enduring perseverance of the martyrs, and the 
 enterprize of Columbus, He walked the Arc- 
 tic Circle, till the strangeness of his'^journey, 
 which encouraged neither stages nor turnpikes. 
 
and which none but an enthusiast could under- 
 stand, alarmed the rude inhabitants of Eastern 
 -Russia, who stopped him, and banished him, and 
 that on pain of death if he returned, because they 
 could not comprehend the philosphy of his trav- 
 els. This man, besides many other voyages, 
 sailed with Cook round the world; and was with 
 him when he v/as killed at Owyhee, His great- 
 est sufferings v/ere in liis Russian travels, where, 
 destitute and on foot, he went from Bothnia to 
 Siberia, six thousand miles. He died at Cairo in 
 Egypt, in the service of .the African Association. 
 Tiiis man v/as no boaster, and his sufferings 
 never got the better of his spirit. His remark 
 on this subject was characteristic of him ; '^I am 
 accustomed" said he, to the African Association, 
 when they were examining his qualifications, '' I 
 am accustomed to hardships; I have known 
 hunger and nakedness, to the utmost extremity 
 of human sufFerins;. I have knon^n w^hat it is to 
 have my food given me as charity to a madman ; 
 and been, at times, obliged to shelter myself un- 
 der the miseries of that character, to avoid heav- 
 ier calamity. My distresses have been greater 
 than I have ever owned, or ever will own, to any 
 man. They have never deterred me from my 
 purpose.%- But it is not intended to give biogra- 
 phical sketches. 
 
6 
 
 There is another tendency in our nature, a ten- 
 dency to exaggerate^ to tell what we have seen, 
 not exactly as we saw it ; and what we heard, 
 not exactly as we heard it ; and to relate, by way 
 of narrative, when no special solemnity binds us, 
 matters of fact, not exactly as they were. We 
 repeat a tale, with a little help of our own, so that 
 as it goes from mouth to mouth, it seldom ends 
 in a story less strange than the original. Under 
 this disposition to exaggerate and misrepresent,^ 
 this Country has been, on the whole, a sufferer. 
 Our English friends, who write histories, trav- 
 els, and reviews, about us, have not, as far as my 
 reading extends, spoken "/o things asthey are^^^ 
 they say that man and beast degenerate here : 
 and that, in the face of the whale, that spouts on 
 both sides of this continent — the sea serpent 
 that visits our shore, and the bones of the mam- 
 moth ; to say nothing of certain occurrences by 
 sea and land. 
 
 They boast of their ancestry ; they trace their 
 descent from Goths, and Vandals, and Picts, 
 and Huns, and Barbarians of every name. They 
 appropriate all antiquity to themselves : and 
 their history is more ancient than ours. We 
 claim to be descended from civilized men ; who 
 brought with them all the arts and sciences and 
 civilization of England, and who nearly stripped 
 
it of its religion. The ancestry of this Country, 
 
 that we boast of, was of two sorts, those who 
 
 suffered for their religion, and those who fought 
 
 for their liberty. Tiiey tell us of degeneracy f 
 
 What have we degenerated from 7 Many of 
 
 them profess to believe, as we do, in the doctrine 
 
 of total depravity. — They would add to this the 
 
 doctrine of a degeneracy in human nature, which 
 
 is constantly progressing ; which makes their own 
 
 condition, by this time, by no means enviable : 
 
 add to this, that every thing in this country is^ 
 
 and always has been, on a scale still smaller than 
 
 in Europe, and what miserable wretches must we 
 
 be ! " Say not why the former days were better 
 
 than these, for thou dost not inquire wisely 
 
 concerning this." This New Country, to be sure, 
 
 is little indebted to the ancients, but it is still less 
 
 indebted to those modern nations in Europe^ 
 
 which have been cotemporary with it, since it 
 
 was discovered. 
 
 The truth is, the Old World has abused the 
 New, from the first. They abused him who dis» 
 
 covered it they abused the natives that 
 
 they found here ; and say what they will, they 
 have done nothing for it, through all its latitudes. 
 They have visited us with injuries, and we have 
 repaid them with benefits. In a commercial 
 view, they wiU liot deny thi§. How long did the 
 
8 ^ 
 
 lazy Spaniard expect tlie annual return of die 
 Plate Heet? How long that the Soutli American * 
 Colonist was to waste Ms life in coining Dollars 
 for him ? 
 
 And in North America, particularly in ■ New 
 England, it should be distinctly understood, that 
 the Pilgrims did not come as colonists ; they did 
 not come at the public expense, or under pat- 
 ronage and protection ; they v/ere not assisted 
 and fUtedi out, they were compelled to renounce ; 
 and came here for safety ; not under a governor 
 as a colony, but under a clergyman as a perse- 
 cuted congregation. They never meant to own 
 a dependance on the British crown. 'Twas not 
 right they should- Why, when they grew strong, 
 were they hunted up in the wilderness, to bear- 
 rayed against' the French in Canada? Was it of 
 these men, or the descendants of these men, that 
 the stupid ministers of Geo. III. expected that 
 they should pay off their National Debt ? These 
 strange protectors of ours, did for us, what? They 
 taxed us, worked us, fought us, and belied us ; 
 and it is an evidence of loyalty to this day to 
 abuse us. 
 
 Do we owe them any thing 1 either in honor, 
 in gratitude, or in money ? 
 
 Let the accounts be audited, — they need 
 charge us nothing for their antiquity, their an- 
 
cestrjj their rights, hereditary and divine ; their 
 dynasties, alliances, and legitimacies— we never 
 had the articles. They may charge us with per- 
 secution^ and call it protection — with the levies of 
 our own men, and call it the defence of the colo- 
 mes; v/ith tcixes, and call it government ; wiiliwar^ 
 and call it discipline ; with abuse, and call it in- 
 struction. If the balance be against us, we are 
 fast paying it off ; and fast growing able to pay 
 the remainder ; we are getting fast out of debt, 
 
 Europe has felt the influence of the New 
 World, and is feeling it more and more. The 
 next revolution there (and they will have ano- 
 ther,) will be unlike the last one ; it will be 
 milder in its progress, and happier in its end. 
 
 I have mentioned a tendency to magnify things 
 ancient, and things foreign ; under the impulse 
 of these forces, united," the one urging and the 
 other beckoning, we should all of us set out on 
 our travels, and keep on to the end of our pil= 
 grimage. 
 
 But there is another, and a stronger tendency^ 
 the love of country, and of home.— He who crea- 
 ted the planets, gave them a projectile motion, 
 that would have sent them into regions of heat 
 and coldj^to iSnish their destinies, God knows 
 where ; but He added a countervailing force? 
 that drew them, to the centre of their motion. 
 
10 
 
 Tims liaye the wandering propensities of our 
 nature heen brought to anchor, by a feeling more 
 intense than they. It is the love of our native 
 country ; it is more, it is a partiality, in that coun- 
 try even, for the spot where we were born, and 
 the scenes with which our youth, and perhaps 
 our lives, have been conversant. Our friendship 
 may vary its object, or even turn to enmity ; 
 our love may fade into indifference, or flutter with 
 inconstancy ; but our attachment to the beauties 
 of that natural scenery, to which the eye has been 
 habituated, increases with age, and is strength- 
 ened by distance. Most men, who emigrate, 
 and all who journey on the deep, let their fancy 
 suggest whatever prospect it may, of wealth, hon- 
 or, or pleasure, paint a still brighter picture in 
 the back ground of the whole, and place, in long 
 perspective, the prospect of their return. A re- 
 turn, not to tlie friends of their childhood, for 
 they will be scattered ; not to the beauties of 
 their youthful love, for they will be faded ; but 
 to these permanent objects, which will assert, 
 and vindicate their conirol over the affections, 
 as long as there is a dweller upon earth. 
 
 There is no spot, however unpromising to a 
 common eye, hwt can excite these feelings m one 
 who is a native of it ; but if it be marked with sub- 
 limity, or beauty, these feelings will be yet more 
 
il 
 
 strong : and stronger still, if to these be added, 
 traditions^ and recollections of great events, and 
 high achievements, connected with it. For 
 while we regard it with affection, we regard it 
 
 with pride too. 
 
 The place where we stand is a beautiful spot j 
 
 the traveller ma}^ pause here ; the painter may 
 stop here ; the lover of nature may linger here ; 
 
 and the native born may dwell here. 
 
 This is the spot whose moonlight beauty fed 
 
 -the young enthusiasm of Leclyard the traveller ; 
 and it was never forgotten' by him, in all his wan- 
 derings, nor when he died in Egypt. Here are 
 united the water and the land ; the river, the 
 sound, and the ocean ; the beach of sand, and 
 the shore of rocks, the islands and the main ; this 
 consecrated height on vv^hich we are ; and the 
 hills, plains, and woods m the distance ; the whole 
 prospect varying with every change of season^ 
 and every shift of wind : sometimes, still in the 
 summer's evening, when the image of the moon 
 in the water does not tremble with the wind, 
 sometimes, marked with the perils of the y^^mief^ 
 stornio 
 
 Such a spot, no light inducement should com- 
 pel us to abandon. Migrate if you will to the 
 Western' Country, and settle on a Savannah, or 
 ;i Prairie, rich with the deposits of vegltable cor- 
 
ruption that is constantly going on, and filled with 
 gases, that gender pestilence ; sigh for the breeze 
 fresh from the ocean, that your infant lungs were 
 made to breathe — you will never find a spot 
 like this ! And if it need further endearment to 
 bind you to it, as your home, this spot is not 
 tvithout its history. 
 
 In the Calender of human events, which began 
 with creation, and is swelling with the progress 
 of time, there is one of the loose leaves, that 
 must not be lost. It is a leaf, illuminated on its 
 margin with pestilence and war, with a conflagra- 
 tion in that town and a massacre in this ; it is il- 
 lustrated with a chart, as accurate as the laws of 
 nature ; and it is adorned with that beautiful pic- 
 ture which I have already explained. 
 
 This leaf it shall be my endeavour to read.— 
 Andyotc who are natives of this region, you who 
 are actuated by the kind feelings, and local par- 
 tialities that have been mentioned, you who are 
 proud of the recollections which associate them- 
 selves with all the objects about you, you who 
 regard this place with feelings of noble enthusi- 
 asm, and religious veneration, as the one where 
 the call on you, is strongest to adore Him, who 
 in the beginning created the heavens and the 
 earth. You are my appropriate hearers, and mf 
 indulgent audience » 
 
13 * 
 
 Who trod this spot before the Deluge, when 
 there were Giants in the Earth ? How did it look 
 when the waters subsided ? How long, through 
 the long soKtude that followed the devastation of 
 Almighty wrath, how long, did it remain without 
 an inhabitant? without a bird to sing in the air, or 
 a creeping thing to worm along its surface ; how 
 long, without a man, who might have wandered 
 hither from his tribe ? 
 
 From the days of* the Patriarchs, to the jour- 
 ney of their descendants in the wilderness ; from 
 the hunting days of Nimrod, through all the 
 eastern empires, to the date of European histo- 
 ry, through their ages of fable, and their ages of 
 darkness, to which they recur in tracing their 
 genealogies from their barbarous northern ances- 
 tors, while they tell how Christianity prevailed 
 by degrees, over their Scandinavian Mythology, 
 where v/as this country ? where, during their 
 chivalry, and crusades ? Guessed at by the wise^ 
 predicted by the sanguine, on no better ground, 
 than that there must be something on this side of 
 the world, to balance the land on that ; but as 
 much unknown, and as little believed in, as that 
 hollow world that remains for discovery. . 
 
 The great adventurer came — :the needle, 
 whose new discovered magic he had trusted, 
 trembled and varied in the binnackvand threat- 
 
^ ' 14 
 
 ened to deceive Ms trust ; his crew mutinied a- 
 bout him. There was one glorious moment in 
 his life, when the man at the mast head cried 
 Land ! But as soon as the new world was dis 
 covered, it was laid open to the avarice of the 
 old ; as Paradise was to the visitation of Satan 
 and his followers from hell. The bridge was 
 built, the passage was open, to Pizarro and his 
 Spaniards, Drake and his pirates, Raleigh and 
 his desperadoes. Some*were tempted hither 
 from the worst of passions, some were driven 
 here for the worst of crimes. 
 
 Still, New England was unknown. It was 
 settled by those, who were banished hither, by 
 the same impulse of religious persecution, and 
 united in the same cause. These men, and such 
 as shortly followed them and settled in Connect- 
 icut have since passed under the general name of 
 the Pilgrims. They had their object in viett% 
 and they achieved it here ; the great work of civil 
 and religious freedom. How has it spread ? It 
 was deep politics once, to talk of the balance of 
 power in Europe ; we may now talk larger ; 
 of a balance of power through the taorld. This 
 vast Continent of freedom, so long oppressed 
 and persecuted, lias faced to the right cibout,-^ 
 Now it looks on Europe, and affects her poli- 
 tics, her allionces^ ^^^ her wars. Greeks miA 
 
15 
 
 Turks know us now ; the northern ridge of Afri- 
 ca, from the pillars of Hercules, to the place 
 where Carthage stood, knows us now. The Rus- 
 sian, the Austrian, the Dane, and the Swede 
 refer in their treaties to the disposition of Amer- 
 ica. Britain respects us, Spain fears us, France 
 wonders at us, and Ireland adores us with tears. 
 
 And why should they not ? The old world is 
 not yet rid of its feudal system, and its restraints 
 upon conscience. Charter is extorted after char- 
 ter, shackle is broken after shackle, and one link 
 of their chains, after another, is filed away with 
 the awkward instruments that their ingenuity de- 
 vises. Here, Christians of all denominations 
 have harmonized for a century, while the British 
 Parliament still agitates the Cathohc Question. 
 Our light, which was once hid under a bushel, 
 is now placed upon a candlestick. 
 
 I have been naturally led to the concerns of 
 this Contment. Mindful of our design, let us 
 return to the history of this spot. It was always 
 inhabited by warlike men. The most powerful 
 tribe of Indians in New England, and the most 
 reluctant to surrender, were the Pequots ; they 
 conquered the surrounding tribes, and made 
 them tributary ; they restrained the Mohawks 
 on the west, and the Naragansetts on' the east ; 
 they fought the European settlers in the vrest^ 
 
16 
 
 em parts of this State; but their favorite resi. 
 dence was in the southern towns of this county. 
 These brave men have left their history to be 
 told by their enemies. The forces of this infant 
 settlement, with some friendly Indians, who had 
 seceded from the tribe, fought with them that 
 decisive battle where Mason commanded, on 
 the high ground to the east, which is just shut 
 from our view by an intervening hill. 
 
 Let whatever historian say to the contrary, 
 they were brave men ; there is something in the 
 country that serves to form the character of the 
 inhabitants. 
 
 Uncas, with his tribe of Mohegans, who were 
 of Pequot descent, adhered ever to the cause of 
 the settlers. 
 
 There is this much to be said in favor of the 
 Government of Connecticut in regard to its treat- 
 ment of such remnants of the Indian tribes as 
 have remained among us : there is a partial pro- 
 vision made for their support, but not enough, 
 they were a silent but a noble people ; and God 
 forbid that they should be exterminated. Exter- 
 minated ! for what ? You are arraying all your 
 charities to civilize the heathen, the Lord knows 
 where, whose wretchedness comes to you through 
 the long alembic of a missionary report, in terms 
 to flatter your piety, without shocking yoiu^ 
 
17- 
 
 nerves ; while the poor, the ragged, and may be 
 the drunken Indian is turned from your door, an 
 object of not half so much disgust as the eastern 
 wretches that they tell of. When the Indians 
 Yiere your enemies, you did not send away your 
 powder ; now that they are your friends, send 
 not away nor withhold your charities ; but, bring 
 them together, and direct your friendly aim, as 
 you once did your hostile fire, so that it will telL 
 How has it been with the Indians of the west 
 and south, and how is it now ? cheated in the 
 treaties that have been made with them, put off 
 with a mess of potage, and urged to present hun- 
 ger, that the temptation may take ; cheated of 
 their possessions, and driyeii from their lands 
 against their will ; cheated out of their wild free- 
 dom, without a substitute to get their living by . 
 savages without their woods, hemmed in by the 
 lots of the planters, with the bow and arrow still 
 in their hands. I am 2ifrlend of the Indians as Lo- 
 gan was of the white men ; their cause is prefer- 
 able to every other charity. There should be a 
 department on purpose for them, of high govern- 
 mental standing. Our fathers, with all their vir- 
 tues have sinned in more respects than one ; and 
 the very Providence that protected them, has said 
 that He is jealous, visiting their iniquities upon 
 their children, through many generations. 
 
IB 
 
 It is sickening to think that the people of this 
 Country will besot their consciences, under this 
 strong call to civilize their own heathen, by send- 
 ing to a distant land, small and pitiful donations, 
 the spare change from the produce of farms, all 
 of which were wrested from Indians, and some of 
 which are cultivated by slaves. 
 
 These remarks, in their full force, have but a 
 partial application here. But the memory of that 
 warhke race, whose land we occupy, associates 
 itself with every continuation of Indian history. 
 
 In the perils and sufferings of the French war, 
 in the levies that were raised, and the expedi- 
 tions that were undertaken, the people here par- 
 took in common with the rest of the Colony. 
 
 In the war of the Revolution, from the first out- 
 breaking of violence to the return of peace, it 
 contributed its men, to the public requisitions, 
 II and to, private enterprize, in the naval service, as 
 well as on land. It added to the forces of every 
 campaign, and increased the combatants in almost 
 every battle. 
 
 At one time or another the British troops were 
 in possession of Boston, of Newport, of N. York, 
 of Philadelphia, and of Charleston. They tarried 
 ])ut three nights in Connecticut, during the whole 
 of the war ; once at N. Haven, once at Danbury, 
 and once at Fairfield. In every battle between 
 
10 
 
 Bunker Hill and York-Town, from the beginning 
 of tlie war to the end of it, Connecticut was fully 
 and ably represented. Levies, enlistments, and 
 requisitions, and the Naval service drew off much 
 of the effective population to the assistance of 
 other States, and left the residue to defend itself 
 without foreign militia, and without Continental 
 troops, except such as were recruiting to march 
 elsewhere. Gardiner's Bay was often the resort 
 of a strong British force, which a few hours sail 
 could have brought here, and many circumstan- # 
 ces conspired to make this port an object of de- 
 sire. An attempt to take it was at last made, 
 which produced a battle, and ended in what is 
 commonly called the massacre at Fort Griswold 
 and the burm?ig of JVew-Lomlon, These events 
 are the special cause of our meeting ; it is proper 
 therefore to be a little minute iu stating the par- 
 ticulars of them. 
 
 About midnight, between the 5th and 6th of 
 September, 1781, a British fleet of twenty-four 
 sail, principally transports, filled with troops, 
 were attempting their entrance into this harbour. 
 They had been fitted out for this enterprize at 
 New-York, then in the possession of the British 
 and had lain in silence, the day before, under the 
 shore of Long Island. Their design w^as to have 
 passed these forts, with the state of which they 
 
20 
 
 were acquainted, in the night ; to have land- 
 ed and accomplished their v/ork of destruc- 
 tion on both sides of the harbour, to have passed 
 to Norwich, and either, to have returned by the 
 way they came, or marched through the country, 
 west, to some place on the Sound, where they 
 might have met their transports, as circumstances 
 should direct them. This object was in part de- 
 feated, by the wind failing, or shifting : they 
 were discovered about day break, off the mouth 
 of the harbour. But the discharge of cannon was 
 then so common, that the alarm guns were little 
 noticed. They landed on both sides the Har- 
 bour's Mouth, in two divisions, of about eight hun- 
 dred men each. The landing was not eifected 
 till about 9 o'clock in the morning : that on the 
 west shore was made west of the light house, 
 near what we now call the Salt Works ; and it was 
 led, and directed in its further operations, by a 
 Leader who commanded the whole expedition. 
 At this instant, every man's concerns were thick 
 on his hands ; there was shipping in the harbour, 
 and property afloat ;* there were women and chil- 
 dren, the poor, and the helpless ; and the 
 temptations to burn and to plunder were to be 
 removed. 
 
 The division which landed on the West was an- 
 noyed and impeded by such means as were at 
 
21 
 
 hand. A strong detachment of it was sent a- 
 gainst Fort Trumbull, which was indefensible on 
 the land side ; a small redoubt, on Town Hill, 
 was taken, and with the exception of two com- 
 panies left to keep the possession of these two 
 places, the rest of the division entered the town, 
 which they set lire to in different places ; to hous- 
 es, barns, and detached buildings, as well as to 
 vessels and stores. And they principally con- 
 sumed it. Nine of our people were killed, and 
 six of the enemy. 
 
 Both the Forts were at this time entrusted to 
 the keeping of Colonel William Led yard, who 
 held his commission under this State, and they 
 were occupied by a few State troops, not e- 
 nough to keep up and relieve a regular guard, 
 without the occasional aid of volunteers from the 
 citizens. 
 
 Immediately, on the appearance of the enemy, 
 their object was perceived, and the probable re- 
 sult foreseen. 
 
 Colonel Ledyard made such dispositions for 
 defence on the west side as were practicable. — 
 He visited Fort Trumbull, and left its little gar- 
 rison, under the command of Captain Adam 
 Shapley, who afterwards died of that day's 
 wounds, with directions to annoy the enemy while 
 practicable, but in case of a formidable prepara- 
 
22 
 
 tion for attack, to cross the harbour, and repair, 
 as they accordiDgly did, to this, which was the 
 stronger and commanding station. 
 
 The prophetic spirit of Colonel Ledyard made 
 certain the heroism of his character. As he shook 
 hands, at parting, with some friends at New-Lon- 
 don, while getting into the boat to return to his 
 post, he said to them, without varying from the 
 usual mildness of his manner, *« This day I loose 
 my honor or my life ; which it will be, you, who. 
 know me, can tell already." His neighbours and 
 Mends, as they volunteered around him, proved 
 the sincerity of their patriotism, by the Gospel 
 criterion. " They left father and mother, wife 
 and children, houses and lands," and some of 
 them all these, in the cause of their country. 
 
 Including his little guard, which was all that 
 the enemy expected to surprize, he nianned his 
 parapets with one hundred and forty-nine men ; 
 who shut themselves out from the possibility of 
 retreat, and nerved themselves for the struggle 
 of man to man. 
 
 The enemy had landed below Eastern Point, 
 tinder Lieut. Col. Eyre, of the 40th regiment of 
 Infantry, Majors ]\tontgomery and Broomfield, 
 Capt. Beckwith, (afterwards Governor of Bar- 
 badoes, and since Cdmmander in Chief of the 
 army of Ireland,) and a complement of subordin- 
 
23 
 
 ate officers. They had not been annoyed, or 
 diverted, in their march, and now made their ap- 
 pearance from behind the wood yonder ; and 
 were first checked by the redoubt which was 
 near it. 
 
 Many around me remember the history of that 
 day ; the flag, with the summons to surrender ; 
 the onset, the storm, the conflict, the surrender, 
 the barbarous refusal to accept it, for the Fort 
 was surrendered, but the enemy was exaspera- 
 ted at the bravery of its defenders, and dearly 
 did they gain their victory ; the agonizing struggle 
 which followed, of death-daring men, penned up 
 in their fastness ; cries of suffering, shouts of vic- 
 tory, imprecations of vengeance ! there, a burn- 
 ing town, with not a soul to pour upon it a bucket 
 of water 5 here, a wailing band of wives and 
 children, in the act of becoming widows and 
 orphans. 
 
 The stillness of death succeeded — they buried 
 their own dead, with the barbarity that marked 
 their conduct ; in heaps, scarcely covered ; leav. 
 ing them to the charity of their enemies for a iii^bre^ 
 decent interment. 
 
 Ours, to the number of eighty-one were strip- 
 ped, and stretched promiscuously on the parade, 
 within the Fort. Such of the wounded as 
 could be easily found, were thrown into a wagon^ 
 
24 
 
 which was set m motion down this hill : It struck 
 a tree in its way to the water ; the shock killed 
 some outright, some lingered awliile in agony, 
 and some few survived. 
 
 This scene of butchery and bloodshed alarmed 
 even the perpetrators of it ; they determined to 
 destroy the evidences of their cruelty. A train 
 of powder was laid, in the evening, from the mag- 
 azine to the barracks ; and the barracks were 
 set on fire. This train of powder was accidental- 
 ly discovered and disturbed ; the fire was extin- 
 guished, and the intended explosion prevented. 
 They departed in the dark, and rejoined their 
 companions from the western shore in their trans- 
 ports. Some of their wounded died on the way, 
 and were buried on the shore ; some died on 
 ship board, and were thrown, during the night, 
 into the sea, and washed upon the beach ; and 
 many were buried on Plum Island, to which 
 they repaired. Two hundred and twenty w as 
 their estimated loss, besides the wounded and 
 the missing. 
 
 Of the one hundred and forty-nine men who 
 garrisoned this place, eighty-one were killed 
 outright, and several died afterwards of their 
 wounds. These, exceptinga few who were killed 
 early in fair fight, were massacred, after the Fort 
 wa$ surrendered : not shot, but killed with the 
 
25 
 
 sword, the bayonet, and the but of the musket. 
 But their wounded bo^iies, their convulsed mus- 
 cles, and their diminished enemies showed that 
 they had struggled to the last. 
 
 During the night which followed, the candle 
 was often held in succession, from face to face, 
 of these dead. The mother with her infant at 
 her bosom, baptised it with her tears, while she 
 went from corpse to corpse, to find the body of 
 her husband. Covered, as in some instances 
 they were, with more than thirty wounds, and ex- 
 piiing only when the last struggling muscle re- 
 fused to act, they could hardly be recognised by 
 their friends. 
 
 They were bmied. No spot on earth is more 
 honoiu'ed than the grave of a soldier. It is dug 
 in haste, and his body is warm when it is placed in 
 it. Divine Providenee has spared to this day a 
 few eyewitnesses of this scene, to swear to the 
 correctness of my narrative ; otherwise the world 
 would not believe it. 
 
 Who did this deed ? Eyre was mortally wound- 
 ed at the beginning of the attack, and died short- 
 ly of his woimds. Montgomery was thrust 
 through with a spear as he attempted to pass by 
 a gun, through the embrazure, and was cast dead 
 into the ditch, before the Fort was taken; and he 
 was afterwards buried bv himself within the ar- 
 
26 
 
 row before the gate. Beckwith was well enough 
 for all I know. He was afterwards called on m 
 New-York, by a relative of Ledyard's, who 
 would have avenged his blood ; and he satisfied 
 him that he was personally innocent. 
 
 The immediate infamy must rest on Broom- 
 field, whose name and character have never 
 since met the public gaze. It is ^said that he 
 was afterwards promoted to the rank of a Brig- 
 adier, and was employed in the East Indies, 
 where he shot himself through the head with a 
 pistol. 
 
 There was a man who surveyed this scene 
 from a corresponding height on the opposite 
 shore. 
 
 Of Arnold, if I say a word, I must crave your 
 pardon. Is it worth while to add another curse 
 to his memory ? the world has cursed him, not at 
 once, but in succession. He has Id e en whipped 
 through it naked. The Commander of the A- 
 merican armies cursed him : and the armies that 
 he commanded said Amen ! Andre cursed him, 
 at the foot of the gallows, in the bitterness of his 
 soul. Asgill cursed him, when he drew that 
 awful blank in the lottery of death. When he 
 joined his friends in England, after the Peace of 
 '83, the multitude retired from about him, not 
 with respect, but with horror. The British 
 
27 
 
 Parliament, so strong were the sensations of our 
 enemies even, was cleared of his presence, when 
 he was accidentally seen in the Gallery, before 
 business could proceed. To the deep damna- 
 tion of such infamy is it possible to add? He 
 is dead — -*' The memory of the wicked shall 
 rot." 
 
 The event which we now commemorate, was 
 followed, for several years after it, by a dead si- 
 lence, such as indicated grief, and became it.— 
 During this period, no other procession could 
 have wound its way up thi^ Height, to mark the 
 return of this anniversary, but a funeral train, 
 filled with numbers entitled to the sad, unwel- 
 come precedence of walking next to the bier, 
 as " David went up the ascent of Mount Olivet, 
 and wept as he went up." Feelings of awe, too 
 mournful for a public commemoration, have hith- 
 erto withheld the footsteps of this, and the ad. 
 joining towns from leading them, atone and the 
 same time, to this spot. But time has passed. 
 The anguish, at first so strong, has subsided into 
 a more extensive, but a gentler feeling. A 
 common impulse has at last brought us together, 
 not to weep; it would be affectation. Those, who 
 died here, had, most of them, attained an age, such, 
 that the addition of forty-four years would have 
 laid them in their graves. *'The Fathers are 
 
28 
 
 dead, and the Prophets, do they live forever 7" 
 We do not therefore come to lament the inevita- 
 ble lot of humanity. *'It is appointed unto all men 
 once to die," and who here shall say that these 
 could have died better ? They were once claim- 
 ed as the exclusive prop^ty of their weeping re- 
 latives 5 their memories, and their virtues have 
 now become the common property of their 
 country. 
 
 We are met neither to laugh nor to cry, for we 
 keep neither a fast nor a festival : we are paying 
 a tribute of respect to the memory of those brave 
 men, who fell here, as patriots, and heroes. If 
 their spirits yet sympathize with the concerns of 
 mortality, they smile with complacency from 
 yonder clouds, at our well meant undertaking. 
 
 Say what you will, the world has made up its 
 mind to venerate a hero. It stops for him, to 
 take rank of all other great men. The Martyr, 
 who dies at the stake, for. his religion, stands 
 high : but the voluntary victim, who falls in 
 battle, in the cause of his country, stands above 
 him. 
 
 Is your object glory ? follow the Statesman 
 through the tedious manoeuvres of his diplomacy ; 
 improve upon the acuteness of his mind, and the 
 research of his industry ; follow the pursuit of 
 science, and the invitations of philosophy ; fol- 
 
20 
 
 low the mathematician in his analysis, till the 
 subtle thread of the human intellect threatens 
 to break ; but, is your object glory, and would 
 you obtain it speedily and certainly? follow An- 
 thony Wayne and storm Stoney Point. I speak 
 of the world as it is. Its opinion is fixed, and I 
 have not come here on an idle mission to re- 
 form it. 
 
 In this universal admiration, and in the indul- 
 gence of this passion for glory, the people of this 
 Country are not behind hand. We unitedly de- 
 precate the horrors of war ; our destiny may 
 be happier than that of becoming a military peo- 
 ple : Yet no nation more hates the shame of a 
 defeat, and none is prouder of a well fought bat- 
 tle. Victory is not the criterion. Certain de- 
 feat, voluntarily encountered, was the very glory 
 of Leonidas. And seldom has there been an 
 instance since, of greater self devotedness, and 
 desperate fight, than this which we now com- 
 memorate. It was in defending the just rights 
 of this country, which Divine Providence had 
 determined to assert, and these men were among 
 the means. It was in protecting from insult and 
 violence, the young, the old, the weak, and the 
 defenceless, of this immediate neighbourhood ; 
 and they were protected. It was in preserving 
 the State from the desolating march, and con- 
 
30 
 
 suming fire of a foreign foe, and it was preserv- 
 ed : It was in support of all your institutions, 
 civil and religious, and in furtherance of your lit- 
 erary establishments, and public donations and 
 charities ; and they have been succeeded and 
 prospered. On the Door Posts of all these in- 
 stitutions, the blood of these men was sprinkled, 
 and the Destroying Angel passed them by. 
 
 Is not the call from this spot strong on the Pub- 
 lic gratitude ? Let the State, which owes this 
 debt of Honor, to the estates of soldiers, who 
 died in its service, record " well done"^ on some 
 lasting memorial. It need not be smooth with 
 the ornaments of foreign sculpture, nor adorned 
 with the mythology of heathen devices ; it need 
 not rise to the height of a Pyramid, nor be inscri- 
 bed with any extravagance of praise ; it may be 
 rude as the rocks about us, but let it be perma- 
 ^ent as the hill on which we stand. 
 
 To it, shall the enthusiast repair in peace, and 
 the soldier in war — here, shall exhausted patriot- 
 ism be recruited. The flame burnt here, like the 
 bush in Midian, and God grant it be never con- 
 sumed. Departed bravery shall be honoured 
 here ; the young shall learn the meaning of the 
 inscription, before they can read it. It shall be 
 the perpetual security of this spot from invasion. 
 The bale fire shall be kindled at it, on the first 
 
Si 
 
 alarm. It shall garrison this place with men, and 
 the sight of it shall keep them at their posts. 
 We are met, in the common love of our comitry, 
 and of each other ; honouring the Government 
 over us, of which we are proud, and for which 
 we are grateful, and staunch to the present ad- 
 ministration of it. Should any root of bitterness 
 spring up hereafter to trouble us, and alas ! 
 such is the state of man, that it may, let us repair 
 hither ; let us shake hands over the grave of 
 §Ledyard, and part in peace. 
 
 But we are met, not to build a Monument, or 
 to lay the corner stone of one. At some future 
 time, when, or how, is uncertain, it will no doubt 
 adorn this Headland ; and constitute, in part, the 
 security of this exposed frontier. — We may be 
 little known abroad, and perhaps overlooked at 
 home, but the severe visitations of Divine Prov- 
 idence shew, that we have not been forgotten. 
 The sword, the fire, the pestilence, the hostile 
 attack, the continued blockade, the constant a- 
 larm have called us to mutual assistance and 
 sympathy, and should make us the fast friends 
 of one another. 
 
 In such hands, whatever structure may be here 
 raised, the keeping of it will be safe. The 
 relatives and decendants of the dead may be pre- 
 sumed to inherit a portion of their spirit, and 
 will defend the sepulchres of their fathers. 
 
■82 
 
 Never again, it may be fairly predicted, never 
 again will this spot be invaded with success. We 
 owe this assurance to the bead defeii^ders of 
 
 THIS PLACE. 
 
 Yonder are their graves—peace to their mem- 
 ories ! 
 
 S. Grem, PvlnL 
 
^ 
 
 r 
 
 ^' 
 
 
 X 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 011 712 380 7 
 
 ^<iW\ 
 
 . J' 
 
 *V^ 
 
 •*-v 
 
 U$^ 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 'tS 
 
 / ''^ 
 
 '^.\ 
 
 *#' 
 
 ^•. V 
 
 ^^\<S 
 
 f^ v> 
 
 >. ^