Subject: The Burning of Royalton, Vermont Source: Gathered Sketches from The Early History of New Hampshire & Vermont by Francis Chase, M.A., Claremont, N.H., Tracy & Kenney & Co., 1856 Part 1 & 2 p.181 The following account is taken as it stands from a book published more than fifty years ago (ca 1800). It was written by Zadoc Steele, who was taken and carried captive by the enemy at the time of the attack, and who afterwards escaped and returned through great suffering and privation to his home and friends. It may therefore be relied upon as a faithful account of the scenes it describes. At the first reading the editor took his pencil in his hand to correct some inaccuracies of style which met his eye; but finding that one alteration would lead to many more, and that in endeavoring to improve the style he would be likely to destroy the vivid and graphic character which an eye witness had impressed upon the account, he determined to insert the whole story in its original dress. For pathos and copiousness of language the author could hardly be excelled. Had he possessed a thorough education, no doubt he would have stood equal, if not superior, in these respects, even to the two famous historians of Napoleon the Great, which our own times have produced. As a union of interest always strengthens the bonds of affection, so a participation in extreme suffering will never fail to produce a mutual sensibility. Prompted by a generous glow of filial love and affection, we generally take delight in surveying whatever gave our forefathers joy, and are ready to drop a sympathetic tear when we review the sufferings which they have undergone. But, contrary to the laws of sympathy and justice, the attention of the public is often engrossed with accounts of the more dreadful conflagrations of populous cities in foreign countries, or the defeat of armies in the field of carnage; while the destruction of small frontier settlements by the Indian tribes in our own country is at the same time little known, if not entirely forgotten. Thus the miseries of our neighbors and friends around us, whose bitter cries have been heard in our streets, are too often suffered to pass unnoticed down the current of time into the tomb of oblivion. The burning of Royalton was an event most inauspicious and distressing to the first settlers of that town. Nor is it a little strange that, among the numerous authors who have recorded the events of the American Revolution, some of them have not given place in their works to a more full detail of that afflictive scene. Laboring under all the difficulties and hardships to which our infant settlements were subject, and striving by persevering industry to soar above every obstacle which might present itself to obstruct their progress, they had filled their barns with the fruits of the land, their storehouses were crowded with the comforts of life and all nature seemed to wear a propitious smile. All around them promised prosperity. They were far removed from the noise of war; and though conscious of their danger, fondly hoped they should escape the ravages of a savage foe. Royalton was chartered in the year 1779. A considerable settlement, however, had taken place previous to that time and the town was in a thriving condition. Large stocks of cattle, which would confer honor upon the enterprise of farmers in old countries, were here seen grazing in their fields. United by common interest, living on terms of friendship, and manifesting that each one in a good degree "loved his neighbor as himself," harmony prevailed in their borders, social happiness was spread around their firesides, and plenty crowned their labors. But, Alas! The dreadfull reverse remains to be told. While joys possessed were turned to sorrows, their hopes for joys to come were blasted. And as the former strongly marked the grievous contrast between a state of prosperity and affliction the latter only showed the fallacy of promising ourselves the future. On the morning of the 16th of October, 1780, before the dawn of day, the inhabitants of this town were surprised by the approach of about three hundred Indians of various tribes. They were led by the Caghnewaga tribe and had left Canada intending to destroy Newbury, a town in the eastern part of Vermont, on Connecticut River. A British lieutenant by the name of Horton was their chief commander; and one Le Mott, a Frenchman, was his second. Their pilot or leader, was a despicable villain by the name of Hamilton, who had been made prisoner by the Americans at the taking of Burgoyne in 1777. He had been at Newbury and Royalton the preceding summer on parole of honor, left the latter place with several others, under pretence of going to survey lands in the northern part of this state, and went directly to the enemy. He was doubtless the first instigator of those awful depredations which were the bitter fruits of this expedition, and which ought to stamp his name with infamy and disgrace. To be continued, Part 2 - p. 184. Transcribed by Janice Farnsworth Subject: The Burning of Royalton, Vermont Source: Gathered Sketches from The Early History of New Hampshire & Vermont by Francis Chase, M.A., Claremont, N.H., Tracy & Kenney & Co., 1856 p.184 On their way thither, it is said, they came across several men from Newbury, who were engaged in hunting near the place where Montpelier village now stands, and made them prisoners. They made known their object to these hunters, and inquired of them whether an armed force was stationed at Newbury. Knowing the defenceless state of that town, and hoping they should be able to induce the Indians to relinquish their object and return to Canada, they told them that such an armed garrison was kept at Newbury as would render it extremely dangerous for them to aproach - thus artfully dissembling by ambiguity of expression the true condition of their fellow townsmen, and like Rabah the harlot, saved their father's house from destruction. Unwilling, however, that their expedition should prove wholly fruitless, they turned their course to Royalton. No arguments which the prisoners could adduce were sufficient to persuade them from that determination. Following up Onion River as far as the mouth of Stevens's branch, which empties into the river at Montpelier, they steered their course through Barre, at that time called Wildersburg; proceeded up Gaol branch, which forms a part of Stevens's branch, and travelled over the mountains through Orange and Washington; thence down the first branch of White River, through Chelsea and Tunbridge, to Royalton. They laid in their encampment at Tunbridge, not far distant from Royalton, during the Sabbath, the day preceding their attack upon the latter place, for the purpose of concerting measures to carry into effect their atrocious and malignant designs. Here were matured those diabolical seeds of depredation and cruelty from which sprang bitterness, sorrow and death. As they entered the town before daylight appeared, darkness covered their approach, and they were not discovered till Monday morning at dawn of day, when they entered the house of Mr. John Hutchinson, who resided not far from the line separating Royalton from Tunbridge. He was totally ignorant of their approach, and wholly unsuspicious of danger till they burst the door upon him. Here they took Mr. John Hutchinson and Abijah Hutchinson, his brother, prisoners, and plundered the house; crossed the first branch and went to the house of Mr. Robert Havens who lived at a small distance from Mr. Hutchinson's. Mr. Havens had gone out into his pasture in pursuit of his sheep, and having ascended a hill about forty rods from his house, hearing his neighbor Hutchinson's dog bark, halted, and stood in pensive silence. Here he listened with deep anxiety to know the extent of the evil he feared. But alas! he little expected to find a herd of savage men. It was his only fear that some voracious animal was among his sheep, which so disturbed the watchful dog. While he listened in silence, with his thoughts suspended, he heard a noise as of sheep or cattle running with full speed throught the water. Casting his eye to the west, towards his own dwelling, he beheld a company of Indians just entering the door. Seeing his own danger, he immediately laid down under a log, and hid himself from their sight. But he could not hide sorrow from his mind. Here he wept. Tears trickling down his withered cheeks bespoke the anguish of his soul while he thought upon the distress of his family. With groanings unutterable he lay a while, heard the piercing shrieks of his beloved wife, and saw his sons escaping for their lives. Laden with the weight of years, decrepit and infirm, he was sensible if he appeared in sight it would prove his death. He therefore resolved not to move until a favorable opportunity presented. His son, Daniel Havens, and Thomas Pember were in the house and made their appearance at the door a little before the Indians came up. Beholding the foe but few rods distant, they ran for their lives. Daniel Havens made his escape throwing himself over a hedge fence down the bank of the branch and crawling under a log, although a large number of the Indians passed directly over it in pursuit of him. Who can tell the fears that agitated his bosom while these savage pursuers stepped upon the log under which he lay? and who can tell the joys he felt when he saw them pass off, leaving him in safety? A quick transition from painful fear and imminent danger to joyful peace and calm retire-ment. They pursued Thomas Pember till they came so near as to throw a spear at him, which pierced his body and put an end to his existence. He ran some time, however, after he was wounded, till by loss of blood, he fainted, fell, and was unable to proceed further. The savage monsters came up, several times thrust a spear through his body, took off his scalp, and left him for food for worms. While they were tearing his scalp from his head, how did his dying groans pierce the skies and call on Him who holds the scales of justice to mark their cruelty and avenge his blood! To be continued - Part 3, p. 187. Transcribed by Janice Farnsworth Subject: The Burning of Royalton, Vermont Source: Gathered Sketches from The Early History of New Hampshire & Vermont by Francis Chase, M.A., Claremont, N.H., Tracy & Kenney & Co., 1856 Part 3 p.187 He had spent the night previously at the house of Mr. Havens engaged in conversation with a daughter of Mr. Havens, who was his choice companion, the intended partner of his life. By imagination we view the fair survivor surrounded by the savage tribe, whose frightful aspect threatened ruin; her soul overwhelmed with fear, and stung with grief, bereft of her dearest friend. They made the house of Mr. Havens their rallying point, or post of observation, and stationed a part of their company there to guard their baggage and make preparations for retreat when they had completed their work of destruction. Like the messenger of death, silent and merciless, they were scarcely seen till felt; or, if seen, filled the mind with terror, nor often afforded opportunity for escape. Moving with violent steps, they proceeded down the first branch to its mouth; while a number, armed with spears, led the van, and were followed by others, armed with muskets and scalping knives. The former they called runners, who were directed to kill all those who should be overtaken in an attempt to escape; while the latter, denominated gunners, took charge of the prisoners and scalped those who were killed. They had not proceeded far before a young man, by the name of Elias Button, being ignorant of their approach, made his appearance in the road but a few rods from them. Espying his danger, he turned and ran with the greatest possible speed in his power to escape their cruel hands. The savage tribe pursued him with their usual agility, soon overtook the trembling youth, pierced his body with their spears, took off his scalp and left him weltering in his gore. Young, vigorous, and healthy, and blessed with the brightest hopes of long life and good days, he was overtaken by the merciless stroke of death without having a minute's warning. Innocence and bravery were no shield, nor did activity secure him a safe retreat. p.189 That they might be enabled to fall upon the inhabitants unawares, and thereby secure a great number of prisoners, as well as procure a greater quantity of plunder, they kept profound silence till they had arrived at the mouth of the branch. After killing Pember and Button, and taking such plunder as most pleased their fancy, they proceeded to the house of Joseph Kneeland, who resided about half a mile distant from the house of Mr. Havens. Here they found Messrs. Simeon Belknap, Giles Gibbs and Jonathan Brown, together with Joseph Kneeland and his aged father, all of whom they made prisoners. They then went to the house of Mr. Elias Curtis, where they took Mr. Curtis, John Kent, and Peter Mason. Mrs. Curtis had just waked from the slumbers of the night, and was about dressing herself as she sat upon her bed, when the savage monsters entered the door; and one of them instantly flew at her, with a large knife in his hand, and seized her by the neck, apparently intending to cut her throat. While in the very attitude of inflicting the fatal wound the murderous wretch discovered a string of gold beads around her neck which atttracted his attention, and prevented the dreadful stroke of death. Thus his avidity for gold allayed his thirst for human blood. His raging passions were suddenly cooled; curiousity restrained his vengeance and spared the life of the frightened object of his cruelty. He had put the knife to her throat, and eternity seemed open to her view; but instead of taking her life, he only took her beads and left her rejoicing at her deliverance. The barbarous looks of the wicked crew bespoike their malignant designs and caused horror and dismay to fill the minds of all who beheld them. But alas! who can tell what horror thrilled the bosom of this trembling woman? What fearful pangs were made to pierce her soul! Behold the tawny wretch, with countenance wild and awful grimaces, standing by her bedside, holding her by the throat with one hand, and the weapon of death in the other! See standing around her a crowd of brutal savages, the sons of vilence, foul tor- menters! In vain do I attempt to paint the scene. Nor will I pretend to describe the feelings of a kind and tender mother, who, reposing in the arms of sleep, with her infant at her bosom, is roused from her slumbers by the approach of a tribe of savage Indians at her bedside. To be continued Part 4 - p. 190 Transcribed by Janice Farnsworth Subject: The Burning of Royalton, Vermont Source: Gathered Sketches from The Early History of New Hampshire & Vermont by Francis Chase, M.A., Claremont, N.H., Tracy & Kenney & Co., 1856 Part 4 p.190 To prevent an alarm from being sounded abroad, they commanded the prisoners to keep silence on pain of death. While the afflicted inhabitants beheld their property wasted and their lives exposed to the arrows of death, it caused their hearts to swell with grief. But they were debarred the privilege of making known their sufferings to their nearest friends or even to pour out their cries of distress, while surrounded by the savage band, whose malevolent appearance could not fail to spread fear and distress in every bosom. They plundered every house they found till they arrived at the mouth of the branch. Here the commander, a British officer, took his stand with a small party of Indians while some went up and others went down on each side of the river to complete the work of destruction. They had already taken several horses, which some of them rode, to facilitate their march and enable them to overtake those who attempted to make their escape. Frightened at the horrible appearance of their riders, who were in no way qualified to manage them, the horses served rather to impede than hasten their progress. Instigated by "the powers of darkness" fired with rage, eager to obtain that booty which they acquired by the pillage of houses and fearful at the same time that they should themselves fall a prey to the American forces, they pursued their ravages with infuriated zeal, and violence and horror attended their movement. General Elias Stevens, who resided in the first house on the river above the mouth of the branch, had gone down the river about two miles and was engaged at work with his oxen and cart. While busily employed loading his cart, casting his eye up the river he beheld a man approaching, bareheaded, with his horse upon the run, who, seeing General Stevens cried out, "For God's sake, turn out your oxen, for the Indians are at the mill !" footnote: The mills to which he referred, owned by a Mr. Morgan, were situated on the first branch, near its mouth. General Stevens hastened to unyoke his oxen, turned them out and immediately mounted his horse and started to return to his family, filled with fearful apprehensions for the fate of his beloved wife and tender offspring. He had left them in apparent safety, reposing in the arms of sleep. Having proceeded on his return about half way home, he met Capt. Joseph Parkhurst, who informed him that the Indians were but a few rods distant in swift pursuit down the river, and that, unless he returned immediately, he would inevitably fall into their hands. Apprised of his danger, he turned and accompanied the captain down the river. Conjugal and parental affection alone can suggest to the imagination of the reader what were the feelings of General Stevens when compelled for his own safety to leave the wife of his bosom and their little ones to the mercy of a savage foe. What pain did he feel when he found himself deprived of all possible means to afford them relief! Nor could he expect a more favorable event than to find them all sacrificed at the shrine of savage barbarity. Who, not totally devoid of sympathy, can refrain to drop a tear as he reflects upon those painful emotions which agitated the general's breast when he was forced to turn his back upon his beloved family while thus exposed to danger? Indeed, it was his only source of consolation that he might be able to afford assistance to his defenceless neighbors; and as they soon came to the house of Deacon Daniel Rix, he there found opportunity to lend the hand of pity. General Stevens took Mrs. Rix and two or three children with him upon his horse; Captain Parkhurst took Mrs. Benton and several children upon his horse with him; and they all rode off as fast as possible, accompanied by Deacon Rix and several others on foot, till they arrived at the place where the general first received the alarm. Filled with anxiety for his family, and not having seen any Indians, General Stevens here concluded again to return, hoping he should be able to reach home in time to secure his household from danger before the Indians arrived. Leaving Mrs. Rix and children in the care of a Mr. Burroughs, he started for home and had proceeded about half a mile when he discovered the Indians in the road ahead of him, but a few rods distant. He quickly turned about, hastened his retreat, soon overtook the company he had left, and entreated them immediately to leave the road and take to the woods, to prevent being taken. Those who were on foot jumped over the fence, hastened to the woods out of sight of the Indians, where they remained in safety, undiscovered by the savage foe, who kept to the road in pursuit of General Stevens. He passed down the road about half a mile, and came to the house of Mr. Tilly Parkhurst his father-in-law. Seeing his sister engaged in milking by the barn, he "told her to leave her cow immediately or the Indians would have her," and left her to secure her own retreat. They were now in plain sight, not more than eighty or a hundred rods off. The road was full of them, running like bloodhounds. The general rode to the house, told them to run for their lives, and proceeded to warn others who lived contiguous. By this time the way was filled with men, women and children, and a large body of Indians in open view but just behind them. The savage tribe now began to make the surrounding wilderness echo with their frightful yells. p.194 Frightened and alarmed for their safety, children clung to their parents; and half distracted mothers, filled with fearful apprehensions of approaching destruction, were heard to make the air resound with their cries of distress. To be continued - Part 5 - p.194. Subject: The Burning of Royalton, Vermont Source: Gathered Sketches from The Early History of New Hampshire & Vermont by Francis Chase, M.A., Claremont, N.H., Tracy & Kenney & Co., 1856 Part 5 p.194 General Stevens endeavored to get them into the woods, out of sight of the Indians. Fear had usurped the power of reason, and Wisdom's voice was drowned in the torrent of distraction. There was no time for argument; all was at stake; the enemy hard by and fast approaching; defenceless mothers, with helpless infants in their arms, fleeing for their lives. Despair was spread before them, while the roaring flood of destruction seemed rolling behind them. Few could be persuaded to go into the woods; and most of them kept the road till they arrived at the house of Captain E. Parkhurst, in Sharon. Here they halted a moment to take breath, hoping they should not be pursued any farther. The Indians, being taken up in plundering the houses, had now fallen considerably in the rear. But the unhappy victims of distress had not long been here when the cruel pursuers again appeared in sight. Screaming and crying now witnessed the horrors of that dreadful scene. Groans and tears bespoke the feelings of a heart agitated with fear and swollen with grief. There was no time to be lost. While they waited they waited for destruction. Children hanging to their mothers' clothes; mothers inquiring what they should do, and calling for assistance; floods of tears and piercing shrieks, all presented to view a most painful scene. Seeing the Indians approaching with hideous yells that thrilled the heart of everyone, General Stevens put his mother and his sister upon his own horse. Captain Joseph Parkhurst put Mrs. Rix and three of her children upon another horse, without a bridle, and ordered them to hasten their flight. There yet remained the wife of Captain E. Parkhurst, who stood in the most critical situation in which a woman can be placed, begging and crying for help, surrounded by six small children clinging to her clothes and pleading with her for protection. Alas! how awful was the spectacle, how affecting the scene to see a woman in this deplorable condi- tion pleading for succor when none could help, when safety and support had fled and dangers were rushing upon her! A heart not devoid of sympathy could not help but weep. Conscious of her wretched situation, feeling for her dear children, being told there was no probability for her escape, gathering her little ones around her she wept in bitterness of soul; tears of pity ran down her cheeks while she waited the approach of the savage tribe to inflict upon her whatever malice could invent or inhumanity devise. Her husband, to whom she fain would have looked for protection, was gone from home when all her woes fell upon her. While Mrs. Parkhurst saw her friends and neighbors fleeing from her and beheld the Indians approaching with impetuous step, horror filled her soul; and death, immediate death, both to her and her children "stood thick around her" threatening to thrust his dagger into her aching heart. There was no time to decide on the priority of claims to pity or the demands of justice. Those who were nearest at hand first received assistance; not however without regard to that affection which arises from consanguinity or matrimonial connection; and these relations not only unite the hearts but connect the hands in scenes of distress. At the time General Stevens put his mother and his sister upon his horse, the Indians were not eight rods from him; they, in company with Mrs. Rix and her children rode off as fast as possible; the General followed with several others on foot. Part of the Indians pursued them, while others entered the house and plundered it . They took her eldest son from her; then ordered her, with the rest of her children, to leave the house. She accordingly repaired into the fields back of the house with five of her children, and re- mained in safety till they had left the place. Soon after General Stevens started, a dog came in his way and caused him to stumble and fall which so retarded his progress that he was obliged to flee to the woods for safety leaving the women and children to make the best of their retreat. The Indians pursued down the road after them with frightful yells, and soon overtook those who were on foot. The took Gardner Rix, son of Deacon Rix,* a boy about fourteen years old, just at the heels of his mother's horse, while she was compelled to witness the painful sight. *footnote: Captain Rix then lived where Mr. Phelps now lived in 1853. Alas! what distress and horror filled her bosom when she, with three of her children no less dear than herself, fleeing from the savage foe mounted upon a horse snorting with fear, having nothing but a pocket handkerchief in his mouth for a bridle, saw her wearied son, fall a captive to this barbarous crew! The trembling youth, overwhelmed with fear and bathed in tears, was now torn from his parents and compelled to roam the wilderness to the unknown regions. Nor was the disconsolate mother with her other little ones, left in a much more safe condition. Exposed and expecting every step to fall to the ground, which if it proved not their death, would leave them a prey to the savage monsters, no tongue can tell the pain she felt, nor pen describe the horrors of her soul. p.168 The Indians pursued the women and children as far as the house of Mr. Benedict, the distance of about a mile. They effected their escape, though surrounded with dangers and pursued with impetuous and clamorous steps. Here they discovered Mr. Benedict on the opposite side of a stream, called Broad Brook, which ran near the house. They beckoned to have him come over to them; he, choosing, however, not to hazard the consequences of yielding obedience to their request , turned and ran a short distance, and hid himself under a log. He had not long been in this situation when these bloodthirsty wretches came and stood upon the same log, and were heard by him to exclaim, in angry tone "If we could find him he should feel the tomahawk." After standing upon the log some time and endeavoring to espy the concealed, trembling object of their pursuit, they left him and returned to the house. Ah, what a joy when he saw these messengers of death pass away, leaving him in safety! His joys, however were not unmingled with sorrow, as the fell destroyers were still at his house, committing ravages and wasting his property. The Indians pursued down the river about forty rods farther where they made a young man by the name of Avery, prisoner, and then concluded to return. While they were at the house of Tilly Parkhurst, which was about six miles from the place they entered Royalton, his son, Phineas Parkhurst, who had been to alarm the people on the east side of the river, just as he entered the stream on his return, discovered the Indians at his father's door. Finding himself in danger, he immediately turned to go back; and the Indians just at this time happened to see him and fired upon him. This was the first gun they fired after they entered the town. The ball entered his back, went through his body came out under his ribs. Notwithstanding the wound, he was, however, able to ride and continued his retreat to Lebanon in the State of New Hampshire, the distance of about sixteen miles, with very little stop. He now resides in that town and sustains the character of a useful physician and an industrious, independent farmer. To be continued Part 6 - p. 199. Transcribed by Janice Farnsworth Subject: The Burning of Royalton, Vermont Source: Gathered Sketches from The Early History of New Hampshire & Vermont by Francis Chase, M.A., Claremont, N.H., Tracy & Kenney & Co., 1856 p.199 That party of Indians which went down on the east side of the river extended their ravages as far as the house of Captain Gilbert in Sharon, where a public house is now (1856) kept by Captain Dana. Here they took a nephew of Captain Gilbert, by the name of Nathaniel Gilbert, a boy about fifteen years of age. They now resolved to return, and commenced that waste of property which tracked their progress. As they retraced their steps, they set fire to all the buildings they found, of every description. They spread desolation and distress wherever they went. Houses filled with furniture and family supplies for the winter, barns stored with the fruits of industry, and fields stocked with herds of cattle were all laid waste. p.200 They shot and killed fourteen fat oxen in one yard, which, in consequence of the inhabitants being dispersed, were wholly lost. Cows, sheep, and hogs, and indeed, every creature designed by the God of nature to supply the wants of man, which came within their sight, fell a prey to these dreadful spoilers. Husbands separated from their wives and children snatched from their parents presented to view an indescribable scene of wretchedness and distress. Some were driven from their once peaceful habitations into the adjacent wilderness for safety, there to wait the destruction of their property; stung with the painful reflection that their friends, perhaps a kind father and affectionate brother, were made captives, and compelled to travel with a tawny herd of savage men into the wild regions of the north to be delivered into the hands of enemies and undergo the fatigues and dangers of a wretched captivity; or, what was scarcely more to be deplored, learn with pain that they had fallen the unhappy victims to the relentless fury of the savage tribe, and were weltering in their gore where there was no eye to pity or friendly hand to administer relief. p.201 The third party of Indians who went up the river first came to the house of General Stevens. Daniel Havens, whose escape I have mentioned, went directly there and warned the family of their danger. Trembling with fear, he only stepped into the house, told that "the Indians were as thick as the devil at their house," and turned and went directly out, leaving the family to secure their own retreat. Mrs. Stevens was in bed, excepting her husband, who, as before stated, had gone down the river, about two miles from home. She immediately arose from her bed, flung some loose clothes over her, took up her child and had scarcely got to the fire when a large body of Indians rushed in at the door. They immediately ransacked the house in search of men, and then took the beds and bedding, carried them out of doors, cut open the bedticks and threw the feathers into the air. This made them sport enough. Nor did they fail to manifest their infernal gratification by their tartarean shouts and disingenuous conduct. Mrs. Stevens entreated them to let her have some clothes for herself and child; but her entreaties were in vain. They were deaf to the calls of the needy and disregarded the demands of justice. Her cries reached their ears, but nothing could excite one single glow of sympathy. Her destitute and suffering condition was plain before their eyes; but they were blind to objects of compassion. Alas! what bitterness of soul, what anguish, what heart rending pangs of fear distressed her! Surrounded by these pitiless, terrific monsters in human shape, with her little offspring in her arms, whose piercing shrieks and tender age called for compassion; exposed to the raging fire of savage jealousy, unquenchable by a mother's tears; anxious for the safety and mourning the absence of her husband of her youth. It is beyond the powers of the imagination to conceive or language to express the sorrows of her heart. p.202 At one moment securely reposing in the arms of sleep with her darling child; the next amid a savage crew, whose wicked hands were employed in spreading desolation and mischief, whose mortal rage exposed her to the arrows of death. After plundering the house they told her to "be gone or they would burn." She had been afraid to make any attempt to escape, but now gladly embraced the opportunity. She hastened into the adjacent wilderness, carrying her child, where she tarried till the Indians had lef the town. A boy by the name of Daniel Waller, about fourteen years old, who lived with General Stevens, hearing the alarm given by Mr. Havens, set out immediately to go to the general and give him the information. He had proceeded about half a mile when he met the Indians was taken prisoner and carried to Canada. To be continued - Part 7 of 9 Parts, p.203. Transcribed by Janice Farnsworth Subject: The Burning of Royalton, Vermont Source: Gathered Sketches from The Early History of New Hampshire & Vermont by Francis Chase, M.A., Claremont, N.H., Tracy & Kenney & Co., 1856 Part 7 p.203 They left the house and barn of General Stevens in flames, and proceeded up the river to Mr. Durkee's, where they took two of his boys prisoners, Adan and Andrew Durkee and carried the former, Adan Durkee to Canada, where he died there in prison. Seeing smoke arise above the trees in the woods adjacent, the hostile invaders directed their course to the spot, where they found a young man by the name of Prince Haskell, busily engaged in chopping, for the commencement of a settlement. Haskell heard a rustling among the leaves behind him and, turning round, beheld two Indians but a few feet from him. One stood with his gun pointed directly at him, and the other in the attitude of throwing a tomahawk. Finding he had no chance to escape, he delivered himself up as a prisoner, and was also carried to Canada. He returned in about one year, after enduring the most extreme sufferings in his wandering through the wilderness on his way home. A Mr. Chafee (who lived near where Mr. Dewey lived in 1851) lived at the house of Mr. Hendee. He started early in the morning to go to the house of Mr. Elias Curtis to get his horse shod. On his way he saw Mr. John Kent ahead of him, who was upon the same business. Wishing to put in his claim before Mr. Chafee, John Kent rode very fast and arrived at the house first. He had scarcely dismounted from his horse when the Indians came out of the house, took him by the hair of his head and pulled him over backwards. Seeing this, Mr. Chafee immediately dismounted, jumped behind the shop, hastened away, keeping such a direction as would cause the shop to hide his retreat. Thus he kept out of sight of the Indians, effected his escape and returned to the house of Mr. Hendee (who lived near where Milo Dewey lives now - 1863) On receiving the alarm given by Mr. Chafee, Mr. Hendee directed his wife to take her little boy, about seven years old and her little daughter who was still younger, and hasten to one of their neighbors for safety, while he should go to Bethel, the town west of Royalton, and give the alarm at the Fort. Mrs. Hendee had not proceeded far when she was met by several Indians upon the run, who took her little boy from her. Feeling anxious for the fate of her child, she inquired what they were going to do with him. They replied that they should make a soldier of him and then they hastened away, pulling him along by the hand, leaving the weeping mother with her little daughter to witness the scene and hear the piercing shrieks of her darling son. This leads me to notice one instance of female heroism, blended with benevolence, dis- played by Mrs. Hendee, whose name deserves ever to be held in remembrance by every friend of humanity. She was now separated from her husband and placed in the midst of a savage crew, who were committing the most horrid depredations and destroying every kind of property that fell within their grasp. p.205 Defenceless, and exposed to the shafts of envy or the rage of a company of despicable tories and brutal savages, the afflicted mother, robbed of her only son, proceeded down the river with her little daughter hanging on to her clothes, screaming with fear, pleading with her mother to keep away from the Indians. In this condition, possessing uncommon resolution and great presence of mind, she de- termined again to get possession of her son. As she passed down the river she met several tories who were with the Indians, of whom she continued to inquire what they intended to do the the children they had taken, and received an answer that they should kill them. Still determined not to part with her son, she passed on and soon discovered a large body of Indians stationed on the opposite side of the river. Wishing to find the commanding officer, and supposing him to be there, she set out to cross the river and just as she arrived at the bank, an old Indian stepped ashore. He could not talk English, but requested by signs to know where she was going. She signified that she was going to cross; when he, supposing she intended to deliver herself up to them as a prisoner, kindly offered to carry her and her child across on his back. But she refused to be carried. He then insisted upon carrying her child; to which she consented. The little girl cried and said "she didnt want to ride the old Indian." She was, however persuaded to do so and they all set out to ford the river. p.206 Having proceeded about half way across, they came to deeper and swifter water; and the old Indian, patting the mother upon the shoulder, gave to to understand that if she would tarry upon a rock near them, which was not covered with water, till he had carried her child over, he would return and carry her also. She therefore stopped and sat upon the rock till he had carried her daughter and set her upon the opposite shore, when he returned and took her upon his back, lugged her over, and safely landed her with her child. Supported by a consciousness of the justice of her cause, braving every danger, and hazarding the most dreadful consequences, not excepting her own life and that of her children, she now set out to accomplish her objective. She hastened to the commanding officer, and boldly inquired of him what he intended to do with her child. He told her that it was contrary to orders to injure women and children. "Such boys as should be taken," he said, "would be trained for soldiers and would not be hurt." "You know," said she, in reply, "that these litte ones cannot endure the fatigues of a march through the vast extent of wilderness which you are calculating to pass - and when their limbs shall fail to support their feeble bodies, and they can no longer go, the tomahawk and the scalping knife will be the only relief you can afford them and you will yield them into the arms of death and earth must be their pillow where the howling wilderness shall be their only shelter - truly a shelter from a mother's tears, but not from the jaws of wild beasts or a parent's grief. "And give me leave to tell you," added she, "were you possessed of a parent's love, could you feel the anguish of a mother's heart at the loss of her first born, her darling son, torn from her bosom by the wicked hands of savage men, no entreaties would be required to obtain the release of my dear child." p.207 The commander, Horton, replied, "that the Indians were an ungovernable race and would not be persuaded to give up anything they should see fit to take." "You are their commander," continued she, "and they must and will obey you - this curse will fall upon you for whatever crime they may commit; and all the innocent blood they shall here shed will be found 'when the secrets of men's hearts shall be made known' and it will then cry for vengeance on your head!" To be continued Part 8 - p. 207 Transcribed by Janice Farnsworth Subject: The Burning of Royalton, Vermont Source: Gathered Sketches from The Early History of New Hampshire & Vermont by Francis Chase, M.A., Claremont, N.H., Tracy & Kenney & Co., 1856 Part 8 p.207 At this generous display of maternal affection, the infamous destroyer felt a relent- ing, bowed his head under the weight of this powerful eloquence and simple boldness of the brave heroine and assured her that he would deliver her child up when the Indians arrive with him. The party who took him had not yet returned. When he arrived, Horton, with much difficulty, prevailed on the Indians to deliver him up. After Mrs. Hendee had gained possession of him, she set out, leading him and her little girl by the hand and hastened away with speed, while the mingled sensations of fear, joy and gratitude filled her. She had not gone more than ten rods when Horton followed, and told her to go back and stay till the scouting parties had returned, lest they should again take her boy from her. She accordingly returned and tarried with the Indians till they all arrived and started for Canada. While she was there, several of her neighbor's children, about the same age as her own, were brought there as captives. Possessing benevolence equal to her courage, she now made suit for them; and by her warm and affectionate entreaties, succeeded in procuring their release. While she waited for their departure, sitting upon a pile of boards, with the little objects of charity around her holding fast to her clothes, with their cheeks wet with tears, an Indian came and took her son by the hand and endeavored to get him away. She refused to let him go and held him fast by the other hand till the savage monster violently waved his cutlass over her head and the piercing shieks of her beloved child fill the air. This excited the rage of the barbarous crew so much as to endanger her own and the lives of the children around her, and compelled her to yield him into his hands. She again made known her grievances to Horton, when, after considerable altercation with the Indians, he obtained her son, and delivered him to her a second time, though he might be said to "fear not God nor regard man." Thus like the importunate widow who "troubled the unjust judge," this young woman, who was at the time aged twenty-seven years, obtained the release of nine small boys from a wretched captivity, which doubtless would have proved their death. She led eight of them away, together with her daughter, all hanging to her own clothes and to each other, mutually rejoicing at their deliverance. p.209 Andrew Durkee, whom the Indians had carried to the house of Mr. Havens, was there released according to the agreement of Horton with Mrs. Hendee, and sent back on account of his lameness. Being told that the great bone in his leg had been taken out in consequence of a fever sore, an old Indian examined it and cried out, "No boon! No Go!" and giving him a blanket and a hatchet, sent him back. Mrs. Hendee carried two of the children across the river on her back, one at a time, and the others waded through the water with their arms around each other's neck. After crossing the river she travelled about three miles with them and encamped for the night, "gathering them around her as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings." The names of the children who were indebted to her were: Michael Hendee Roswell Parkhurst, son of Capt. Ebenezer Parkhurst Andrew Durkee Sheldon Durkee Joseph Rix Rufus Fish ____ Fish Nathaniel Evans Daniel Downer. The latter received such an affright from the horrid crew that he was ever afterwards unable to take care of himself, wholly unfit for business and lived for many years wandering from place to place, a solemn though silent witness of the distress and horror of that dreadful scene. Mrs. Hendee in 1818 lived in Sharon where the author visited her and received the foregoing statement of this noble exploit from her own mouth. It is also corroborated by several gentlement now living, who were eye witnesses. She buried her first and second husbands and now lives a widow by the name of Mrs. Moshier. Her days are almost gone. May her declining years be crowned with the reward due to her youthful deeds of benevolence. She has faced the most awful dangers for the good of mankind, and rescued many from the jaws of death. In view of the exceeding riches of that mercy which has protected her through scenes of danger, may she devote her life to the service of the mighty God, and, at last, find a happy seat at the right hand of Him "who gave himself a ransom for all." And thus let the children who are indebted to her bravery and benevolence for their lives, "rise up and call her blessed." Gratitude forbids their silence; for to maternal affection and female heroism alone, under God, they owe their deliverance from savage cruelty. To be continued - Part 9 of 9 - p. 211 (note I have found her maiden name in an item online and will send it to the List) Subject: The Burning of Royalton, Vermont Source: Gathered Sketches from The Early History of New Hampshire & Vermont by Francis Chase, M.A., Claremont, N.H., Tracy & Kenney & Co., 1856 Conclusion, Part 9 of 9 p.211 The Indians, having accomplished their nefarious designs, returned to the house of Mr. Havens with their prisoners, and the plunder of houses which they had devoted to destruction. Here was the place where they had commenced their ravages. The old man, as before observed, having concealed himself under a log, at the time he espied the Indians in the morning, while hunting for his sheep, still remained in sorrowful silence undiscovered. He had considered it unsafe to move, as a part of the crew had continued there during the day, and had twice come and stood upon the log under which he lay, without finding him. After collecting their plunder together, and distributing it among them, they burned the house and barn of Mr. Havens and started for Canada. It was now about two o'clock in the afternoon. They carried off twenty-six prisoners from Royalton, who were all delivered up to the British as prisoners of war. They all obtained their release and returned in about one year, except Adan Durkee who died in camp at Montreal. Twenty-one dwelling houses and sixteen good new barns, well filled with hay and grain, the hard earnings of industrious young farmers, were here laid in ashes by the impious crew. They killed about one hundred and fifty head of cattle and all the sheep and swine they found. Hogs in their pens and cattle tied in their stalls were burned alive. They destroyed all the household furniture except what they carried with them. They burned the house of Mr. John Hutchinson. Women and children were left entirely destitute of food and every kind of article necessary for the comforts of life, almost naked, and without a shelter. Wandering from place to place, they beheld their cattle rolling in their blood, groaning in agonies of death, and saw their houses laid in ruins. Disconsolate mothers and weeping orphans were left to wander through the dreadful waste and lament the loss of their nearest friends, comfortless and forlorn. The Indians took away about thirty horses, which were, however of little use to them, but rather served to hinder their progress. Their baggage was composed of almost every article commonly found among farmers; such as axes and hoes, pots, kettles, shovels and tongs; sickles, scythes and chains, old side saddles and bedticks emptied of their feathers, warming pans, plates and looking glasses and indeed nearly all kinds of articles necessary for the various avocations of life. On their return they crossed the hills in Tunbridge, lying west of the first branch, and proceeded to Randolph, where they encamped for the first night, near the second branch, a distance of about ten miles. They had, however, previously despatched old Mr. Kneeland, a prisoner whom they considered would be of the least service to them, with letters to the militia stating that "if they were not followed the prisoners should be used well; but should they be pursued, every one of them would be put to death." The alarm had by this time spread through the adjacent towns; and the scattering, undisciplined militia shouldered their muskets and hastened to pursue them. They collected at the house of Mr. Evans in Randolph, about two miles south of the en- campment of the Indians. Here they formed a company consisting of about three hundred in number, and made choice of Colonel John House, of Hanover, New Hampshire, for their commander. They supposed the Indians had gone to Brookfield about ten miles from that place, up the second branch. With this expectation they took up their march about twelve o'clock at night, hoping they should be able to reach Brookfield before light, and make them prisoners. They had scarcely started when the American front guard, to their utter surprise, were fired upon by the rear guard of the enemy. Several fires were exchanged and one of the American wounded; when Colonel House through cowardice or want of skill, commanded thenm to halt and cease fireing. He then ordered them to make a stand and kept them in suspense till the Indians had made their escape. To hasten their flight, the savage tribe were compelled to leave at their encampment a considerable quantity of their plunder, nearly all the horses, and made good their retreat. p.214 Here they killed two of the prisoners, by the names of Joseph Kneeland and Giles Gibbs. The former was found dead with his scalp taken off, and the latter with a tomahawk in his head. At daylight, Colonel House entered the deserted camp, and took possession of the spoil; but alas! the enemy were gone, he knew not where. Urged by his brave soldiers, who were disgusted at his conduct, he proceeded up the second branch as far as Brookfield, in pursuit of the enemy, and, not finding them, disbanded his men and returned. Had Colonel House possessed courage and skill adequate to the duties of his station, he might have defeated the enemy, it is thought, without the least difficulty, and made them all prisoners. His number were equal to that of the enemy, well armed with muskets and furnished with ammunition. The enemy, though furnished with muskets, had little ammunition, and were cumbered with the weight of much guilt and a load of plunder. They had encamped upon a spot of ground which gave the Americans all the advantage, and their only safety rested in their flight. The American force consisted of undisciplined militia, who promiscuously assembled from different quarters, but were full of courage, animated by the principles of justice, and determined to obtain redress for the injuries they had received from the barbarous crew. Many of them, likewise had friends and connections then in possession of the Indians, to obtain whose freedom they were stimulated to action. But alas! their determination failed, their hopes were blasted. They were forced to relinquish the object and suffer their friends to pass on and endure a wretched captivity. They, however, forced the Indians to leave the stream and take their course over the hills, between the second and third branch, which brought them directly and unexpectedly to the house of Zadoc Steele, whom they made prisoner and took to Canada. Transcribed by Janice Farnsworth See also "North Country Captives by Colin G. Calloway, Univ. Press of New England Pub. 1992, with the chapter (p.100 to 150) on "The Capture of Zadock Steele, Royalton, Vermont, 1780. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The heroin of the Burning of Royalton,was the sister of William Hunter Internet Source, website below Another incident relates to the burning of Royalton, Vt., on October 16, 1780. Dr. Ira Hunter's father's name was William Hunter, and he had a sister who married a man by the name of Hendee. At the time of this Indian raid Royalton had but a few houses, and they were far between. The intent of the Indians was to kill every white man they found, so the men fled for their lives. When the Indians had secured all the valuables they cared for, they set fire to the houses, captured nine boys from nine to twelve years old, and left. When Mrs. Hendee, who had been away, returned to her home and found what had been done, she took the Indian trail, and went on, overtaking them just as they had crossed the river, a branch of the White, and entered their camp. She plunged into the water, swimming where wading was impossible, reached the other side and, braving the tomahawk and the threatening aspect of the savages, rushed into the camp, seized a boy, and bore him to the opposite shore. In like manner she took another and another, until eight were carried over. While taking the last one, her strength began to fail. An Indian, seeing this and admiring her heroism, said. "White woman brave; me help white woman." and stepping forward, kindly aided her across the river. He then left her and her boys, one of them being her own son, to go on their way rejoicing; while the Indians looked on with mingled emotions of astonishment and admiration. http://www.rootsweb.com/~nydelawa/books/breview.html Subj: Lieut. Richard Houghton (not Horton), Burning of Royalton~List of Captives The commander who relented and gave Mrs. Hendee the nine children captives. Glancing at "The Captivity of Zadock Steele', from the book North Country Captives by Colin G. Galloway p.100 "In October 1780, Lieutenant Richard Houghton of the British Indian Department led some 300 Indians, mainly Caughnawagas, across Lke Champlain and headed along the Winooski River toward Newbury, where they hoped to capture the American Major Benjamin Whitcomb. (see more about Maj. Benjamin Whitcomb below) . When American scouts alerted Newbury, the raiders shifted course, catching by surprise the Vermont villages of Royalton, Randolph, Tunbridge, and Sharon. They burned over two dozen houses, destroyed barns and mills, killed several people and some one hundred fifty head of cattle, and carried off about 27 prisoners and thirty horses. Zadock Steele was the son of James Steele, Esq who in 1776 moved from Tolland to Ellington. According to Zadock Steele the Indians entered the town of Royalton on Oct 16th, 1780. Zadock Steele was taken prisoner at his home that next day. In his narrative he mentions that he associated with Simeon Belknap of Randolph, VT. during his imprisonment. His journey home thru the wilderness mentions that on the 2nd day of October 1782 (two years after his capture) he and two men had been wandering in the wilderness for 22 days, having escaped the night of Sept 10th, 1782, arriving at Lake Champlain in 10 days. He and Belknap continued their course together to Ellington in Connecticut arriving on the 17th of October 1782 "being just two years from the day I was taken by the Indians at Randolph. His companions in escape included Clark & Sprague and Simeon Belknap who later lived in Randolph VT. Zadock Steel married in the winter of 1785 Hannah Shurtliff of Tolland, CT and settled in Randolph, VT not far from his father's house. He later removed to Brookfield, a town adjoining, where he was residing in 1816 at the time of writing his narrative. He gives the names of some of the persons killed and taken at the burning of Royalton: Zadock Steele, taken at Randolph Experience Davis Elias Curtis J. Parks Moses Parsons Simeon Belknap who lived at Randolph, VT after his escape & return from captivity Samuel Pember Thomas Pember, killed at Royalton. Gardner Rix, living at Royalton in 1818 Daniel Downer Joseph Kneeland, killed at the encampment at Randolph Jonathan Brown living at Williamstown in 1818 Adan Durkee, died at Montreal Joseph Havens Peter Hutchinson John Hutchinson, living in Bethel in 1818 _____Avery John Kent Peter Mason Giles Gibbs, killed at Randolph Elias Button, killed at Royalton Nathaniel Gilbert Note Major Benjamin Whitcomb better known as Whitcomb's Rangers Whitcomb's Rangers started as a similar provisional unit on the Lake Champlain front in 1776. It gained permanent status as a two-company force on 15 October of that year and provided reconnaissance capability to the Northern Department until 1 January 1781 when it disbanded at Coos, New Hampshire, as part of a general reorganization of the Continental Army. Most of Whitcomb's men came from New Hampshire and the Hampshire Grants (now Vermont). http://www.army.mil/cmh-pg/documents/revwar/revra.htm Major Benjamin Whitcomb, was born in Lancaster, MA in 1737. "He served in the French and Indian war in 1755, under General Johnson, and again in 1757, in Capt. Wilder's Co., Mass., and again in Capt. Reed's Co., Mass. in the expedition against Montreal. In July 1776 he was living in Newbury, Vt., and was in command of a scout on the Sorel, and had mortally wounded Gen. Gordon as he was riding between Chambly and St. Johns, and took his watch and sword. Several attempts were made to capture him, but without success. Oct. 14 1776, he was captain of an Independent Core of Rangers until they were taken from under his command to join the Continental army by order of Congress. He was promoted Major, Nov. 10, 1777, and commanded a body known as Major Benjamin Whitcomb's Independent Core of Rangers from Nov. 10, 1777 to Feb. 1, 1781, the date of his last muster roll. He came to Lisbon about 1782, and settled on Lot 1 in the gore, and on the west side of the river, and opposite of Samuel Young's lot. Here he built the first two-story house in Lisbon. He finally sold out to Moses Emery, and located in Savageville, so-called, where the late Edward Knight lived. He was a miller, and ran the first grist mill in Lisbon Village."..."He was pentioned June 23, 1818, $240 per year." [Rix manuscript]. He married Lydia Howe, of Westmoreland, NH. http://www.geocities.com/Yosemite/2821/Links.html ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Materials gathered and/or Transcribed by Janice Farnsworth (I spent two years off & on trying to find out who was the Whitcomb of the Whitcomb Rangers ! Aha! I own 3 books on the history of Lancaster, MA where he was born and will dig into that PDQ!) Transcribed by Janice Farnsworth