The Mountain Boys
Norman Hurlbut also
wrote his own portrait of Roxbury’s revolutionary heroes Ethan Allen, Seth
Warner, and their cousin and companion in arms, Remember Baker even though
their stories had been well told elsewhere. Perhaps he felt he had
to write about them, because they were related. All of them intermarried
with members of the Hurlbut crew.
Remember Baker was
the oldest. He was born in 1737, and according to Norman Hurlbut,
“was one of the greatest frontiersmen Roxbury ever sent out into the world.
He was a tough, redheaded, freckle-faced young giant, a man with whom it
was best not to tangle, if it could be avoided. Sheriff John Munro
learned his lesson in March in 1772, when he and his gang thought they
could take Remember to Albany and collect the reward that had been placed
on his head. They never reached Albany.
Town Historian Elmer
Worthington wrote: “Remember was descended from John Baker, who married
Sarah Hurlbut, a daughter of Joseph Hurlbut, reputedly the first man to
finish a house near Shippauge Fort, and who gave him a plot of land on
Good Hill in 1704. They were probably the first young couple to make
their home here. Mary, the future mother of Ethan Allen, was one
of their daughters, born in 1708.
“Mary Baker, daughter
of John, was baptized in March, 1709, and married Joseph Allen, March 11,
1736 or 1737. Shortly after Remember’s birth, his father, Remember
Baker, Sr., was killed in a hunting accident in Roxbury by a Hurlbut, but
his son married Desire Hurlbut. Shortly after his marriage he joined
his cousins Seth Warner and Ethan Allen in Vermont.
“His own son Remember
Baker III moved to Stafford, New York. He served as an officer and
friend of General Winfield Scott during the war of 1812. His son,
General Lafayette Baker, was born in Stafford in 1826. General Lafayette
Baker became Chief of the National Detective Service under President Lincoln.
He also wrote, in 1867, the “History of the United States Secret Service.”
“Lafayette’s grandson
Newton D. Baker, was Secretary of War in President Wilson’s Cabinet from
1913 to 1921.”
According to Norman
Hurlbut, the Baker house was undoubtedly the scene of Mary’s wedding to
Joseph Allen in 1736, and here Remember brought his bride, Tamar Warner,
the sister of Col. Seth’s father, and also here was brought his body that
June 1st, 1737, after the fatal hunting accident on Mine Hill.
The fatherless boy
grew up in his grandfather’s home and with the companionship of cousin
Ethan and the soldiers at the fort, until September 11th, 1755, when at
the age of eighteen, he enlisted in the Northern army and served through
most of the French and Indian War.
In 1758, Remember,
now a non-commissioned officer was serving under General Israel Putnam,
when Putnam’s forces met a detachment of French at Ticonderoga. With
Putnam was Lord Howe, a young English officer much beloved by the men.
During the action a stray bullet struck Howe. When the men saw their
idol fall, they went wild and, fighting like tigers, tore diagonally through
the French lines and then, receiving reinforcements, turned and attacked
from the rear, killing some three hundred men and taking one hundred and
forty-eight prisoners. A heavy price the enemy paid for a stray shot.
Here it is interesting
to note that Roxbury was represented in that encounter, as witness the
copy of an affidavit made by General Hinman in 1810: “I, Israel Minor
of Roxbury, in Litchfield County, in the State of Connecticut, of lawful
age, testify to say that I was formerly well acquainted with Solomon Squire,
formerly of this town, that I knew him to be a soldier in the French War
in the years 1755, 1756, and 1758 as I was with him in the years 1756,
and 1758, that he served under the late Col. Benjamin Hinman in his several
grades from Capt. to Lt. Col. That in the year 1758, he served as
one of Rogers Rangers, and I knew him to be a gallant soldier and much
respected by his superior officers. I also testify that I have been
well acquainted with Reuben Castle formerly of this town but now residing
in Woodbury, in this County, from early life; and I knew him to be a drummer
in the said war under the above-mentioned Lt. Col. Hinman, as I saw him
in said service at Ticonderoga at the time Lord Howe was killed.
But as I did not belong to the same regiment cannot recollect how many
seasons the said Castle served in said army.
And further
the deponent saith not,
Israel Minor
N.B. My meaning
is that I did not serve under the said Benjamin Hinman all the time I was
in said service, the last year I belonged to Col. Wooster’s Regiment.”
After the insertion of this document, Normal Hurlbut continued his history: Solomon Squire was a brother of my great-great grandmother, Olive Squire Hurlbut, and after the Revolution emigrated to Tennessee, where he took up a large tract of land, and where he died. Col. Hinman was a native of Southbury and a well-known officer in the Revolution. Col. Wooster, later Gen. Wooster, was killed at Danbury, May 2nd, 1777. He was at this time the senior Brigadier General in the Continental Army. Jonathan Stoughton, another of those present, signed the following proof for Reuben Castle:
“I, Jonathan Stoughton of Woodbury, in Litchfield County, in Connecticut State, of lawful age, testify and say that I am well acquainted with Reuben Castle of said Woodbury, and I further testify that said Castle was a soldier in the late French War in the year 1758, that he served as a drummer under Lieut-Col. Benjamin Hinman of Ticonderoga. That I was clerk of the same Company in the service of the now United States, and that in the month of November in said year we were discharged from said service.”
These affidavits
are among others that belonged to General Ephraim Hinman of Roxbury, under
whom my grandfather’s brother served, 1810-1815, and have remained in my
family, sealed for more than 125 years, until I unsealed them a few years
ago. There were others from Roxbury active in the campaigns in the
French War whose names cannot be ascertained at this late date, and one
of whom did not return. Lovewell Hurd was killed in the 1758 campaign.
After the war, whether
Remember returned to his home in Roxbury or lingered on in the north country
is not known, but he was here in 1760 as in that year he married his cousin,
Desire Hurlbut, the daughter of Consider Hurlbut. In fact, all three
boys came back to Roxbury for their brides. Remember for Desire Hurlbut,
Seth Warner for Esther Hurd, also a distant cousin, and Ethan Allen for
Mary, the daughter of Cornelius Brownson, the miller of Southbury.
Must be Roxbury girls were as pretty then as now.
It is not known
where the young folks made their homes for the first years, but in 1764,
Remember brought his little family, wife, and son Ozi, along a rude road
to Arlington, Vermont, which town at Proprietors Meeting had offered to
grant 50 acres of land to anyone who would build a grist mill to be in
operation by November 1765. Remember accepted the challenge and built
the first grist and saw mill in Arlington. Now, Remember had to settle
down, what with tending his mill, building the home for his family, and
hunting meat, he was a busy man. Soon, he was joined by the Warner
family and several of his wife’s relations, and still later, Ethan Allen
arrived on the scene in time to join in the ‘scraps’ with the ‘Yorkers.’
Ethan’s brother soon arrived also and became engaged in land surveying.
Not long after Seth
Warner’s arrival, he had a message from Remember. He had seen New
York surveyors going up country and he was worried. The settlers
held their titles under grants from Bennington Wentworth, Governor of New
Hampshire, and now the New York authorities claimed their titles invalid
and they must repurchase under Gov. Tryon of New York. “I tell you
Seth, we’ve got to drive ‘em out or we’ll lose our homes, and if we do,
they’ll have us in their courts.” Not long after, Committees of Safety
were being formed in the various towns through the Grants, as they were
called, and a meeting was called at the old Catamount Tavern kept by one
Stephen Fay, who had mounted a stuffed wildcat atop a pole before his tavern.
Here gathered a
motley number of the younger men of the hills, hardened hunters and rangers
of the mountains, who were not disposed to submit tamely to injustice.
The organization to be known as ‘The Green Mountain Boys’ was here begun
with Ethan Allen as Col. Commander, and Seth Warner, Remember Baker, Robert
Cochran, and Peleg Sunderland appointed as Captains. Remember and
others now made up a ‘Judgment Seat,’ a court for sitting in judgement
on the usurpers from New York, and Ethan, Seth, Remember, and Cochran were
named as judges. It was a court which some of the worst offenders
later had excellent cause to respect.
Finally, the situation
grew so serious that on December 9, 1772, Governor Tryon placed a reward
of twenty pounds on the heads of Seth, Ethan, and Remember. Ethan
immediately offered a reward of fifteen pounds for certain New York officials,
to be delivered at Fay’s tavern. Said he, “They ain’t worth as much
as we be.”
One night in March,
the New York Sheriff John Munro gathered a posse and – coming to Remember’s
home – broke in the door with axes. On their entry they were met
by a fighting fury of a man armed with only a cudgel and a woman and child
just roused from their bed. The fight raged for a time until the
beset and outnumbered man sprang up the ladder to the loft and leaped out
into the snow, where he was soon overpowered and, without dressing his
wounded hand, the start was made for Albany. Remember asked leave
to see his injured wife and child, but only gained the brutal reply:
“She can see you at the jail.” This brought from Remember, “If she’s hurt
bad, Munro, I’ll kill you.” He was told, “In the Albany jail, where you’ll
be, you won’t kill anybody for quite some spell.”
But Remember didn’t
get to the Albany jail, for his captors failed to realize the size of the
hornet’s nest they had aroused. For hardly had they struck the road
than the cry rang through the night, “It’s Remember, they got Remember.”
Soon grim-faced men were riding in from all directions, and the pursuit
was on. Taking a different road the pursuers raced ahead and came
out on the Albany Road before Munro and his men who, when they saw them,
scattered in the woods like frightened rabbits. Remember was carried
back and his wounds dressed and his wife and son cared for.
The next day Seth
rode out to Munro’s place and demanded Remember’s gun. “What gun,”
replied Munro. “The gun you stole the night you tried to murder him,”
Seth said. With visions of that reward in his mind Munro seized the
bridle of Seth’s horse and called on his men to make the arrest.
Rising in his stirrups Seth brought the flat of his sword down on Munro’s
head, felling him to the ground, where he forgot all about making any arrest.
A few days later, the town of Poultney, Vermont, voted Seth a hundred acres
of land, “for his valor in cracking the head of the hated Yorker.”
Some time afterwards,
when an opponent demanded his authority for this action, Remember, holding
up his mutilated thumb, declared, “There’s my warrant good in any court
in the Green Mountains.” By May, 1773, Ira Allen and Remember, as the Allen
and Baker Land Co., owned some 45,000 acres of virgin land along the Onion
River, near Burlington. That year there were no roads north of Castleton,
and Baker and Allen cut a road through the forest for seventy miles so
that supplies could be brought in from Lake Champlain and in the summer
they settled on their land and built a stout log house across the river
from Burlington, later called Fort Frederick. His brother Ira, being
unmarried, lived with Remember. Soon came the outbreak with England,
and forgetting their troubles with New York, they joined forces against
the common enemy.
The day after the
capture of Ticonderoga, Remember, at the Onion River was asked by Seth
to join him in the occupation of Crown Point. He started at once
and on the way intercepted two boats sent by the British to warn St. Johnsbury
of the fall of the fort. They did not deliver their message as Remember
kindly took them along with him while he met with Seth. Remember
was now in frequent demand for scout duty. In August he was sent
by General Schuyler to gain information on the condition of the British
forces in Canada, and on his return was immediately sent back for more
details. On August 19, 1775, he left Crown Point with four or five
men, and on August 20, was on the schooner “Liberty” at the foot of Champlain,
and next morning started down the Sorel River. Leaving a man named
Griffin and an Indian of the west side of the river, he pushed on further.
This is the last Griffin saw of Remember.
Hiding his canoe
in the bushes, Remember crept up a little further, but on his return found
that a party of Indians had discovered his canoe and were making off with
it. He demanded they return it, and on their refusal opened fire,
killing one of them. Then, his flint needing some adjustment, he
leaned against a tree, when a shot struck him in the forehead and killed
him instantly. The Indians returned, cut off his head and right hand
with the mutilated thumb, and carried them to Canada to collect the bounty.
So died one of Vermont’s great pre-revolutionary men.
At the time he was
killed, one of the Indians took possession of Remember’s powder-horn, and
he kept it. But a day or two later, when the Indian was also killed,
the horn came back to Remember’s friends, who sent it to his son, Ozi.
Later, it disappeared and was not found until 1928, when it was discovered
behind a rafter in an old house. Now it is a treasured relic in the
Vermont museum in Montpelier. On it is inscribed, cut into the horn:
“Remember Baker, Bennington., Vt. Ye Sept. 9, 1774.” In Roxbury still
stands the old house by the cross-roads, but the family that lived there
in those days are entirely forgotten. The level land that stretched
northward from the Episcopal church for three-fourths of a mile used to
be known as the Baker Plains. The lone white oak still stands by
the road as an ancient landmark.
Of the three mountain
boys from Roxbury, the poorest was Seth Warner. Among the papers
kept by Norman Hurlbut is a copy of an interview with Seth Warner Jr.,
the younger son of Colonel Seth Warner, in which he recalls how George
Washington visited his home in person, after the War of Independence, and
paid off the mortgage on it. Seth Warner Jr., then 75, and living
in Lower Canada had come to the capital of Vermont to petition the legislature
for compensation for some lands formerly granted to Col. Warner’s heirs.
“It was there and then that the writer of this reminiscence was introduced
to him,” Norman’s paper states, “and held several interesting conversations.”
He recorded the
following statement, “It was in the month of September 1789, the fall that
General Washington made his tour through the eastern states. We had
kept ourselves tolerably well posted about the progress of this tour and
heard that he was to be in New Haven or Hartford somewhere near the time
at which the event I am going to relate took place. But as either
of those places was quite a number of miles from Woodbury, where we lived,
we had not more idea of seeing him than the man in the moon. My elder
brother, Israel Putnam Warner, then a grown man, and myself a lad of twelve
or thirteen, were both living with our mother at the time. And at
that particular time of day I refer to, Israel was in the yard grooming
father’s old war horse, which he had been compelled to go with father through
all his campaigns to take charge of, for the fiery and proud old fellow
would never let anybody but his master, the Colonel, and his son Israel
mount or come near him, though he had now tamed down by old age that he
would behave quite meekly with me or anybody. I was in the house
with mother, who happened to be unusually downcast that day and was brooding
over the family embarrassments. She had just been saying, ‘No, no,
Seth, I can never pay, nor with our means hardly begin to pay this dreadful
mortgage. And now I hear it is about to be foreclosed. Soon
we must be driven from our pleasant home, where we have lived so long and,
until your father’s death, so happily. My husband, the Colonel, fought
as well as the bravest of them and did all he could and more than his part
for the good cause, they all are willing to allow. And I know very
well that he wore himself out in the service and was thus brought to a
premature grave. And yet here is his family almost on the verge of
beggary.’ Tears here started in mother’s eyes, which so touched me
that I rose and went and looked out the window, when to my surprise, I
saw entering into the yard two well-mounted stranger gentlemen, whom from
something about their general appearance, I took to be old military officers
of pretty high rank, or at least one of them, who was large and had a very
commanding look.
“Having significantly
beckoned mother to my side, who eagerly gazed out at the newcomers in silence
a moment, when she suddenly gave a start and with an excited air exclaimed,
‘Seth, just take notice of the noble looking one. Why he looks ever
so much like the picture I once saw of but no, that surely couldn’t be!’
I said, ‘Well, at any rate, mother, he must be a man of some consequence,
for see brother Israel, who acts as if he knew him, is swinging his hat
from his head clear away at arm’s length and bowing lower than he would
to a king. Israel is quite too stiff-necked to do that for any common
man. But they are beginning to talk. I will just open the door
here a little mite and perhaps we can hear what they are saying.’
I did so, and the first words I distinguished were those of the personage,
who had so attracted our attention and who was addressing my brother, and
pointing to the horse by the side of which he was standing, asked, ‘Is
not that the horse Colonel Warner used to ride in the war?’ ‘Ah,
yes, I thought so,’ resumed the former, turning to his companion or attache,
and pointing to the old war steed with that interest with which he was
known ever to regard fine horses. ‘I thought it could be no other.
Just glance at his leading points, finely shaped head, arched neck, deep
chest, haunches and limbs. I have seen Colonel Warner riding him
on parade, when I noted him as a rare animal and thought that the horse
and rider, taken together, for Warner, a model of a figure and several
inches taller than I am, made a military appearance second to none in the
Continental Army. But my business is with your mother, my young friend,
and I will now, if you will take charge of my horse a few minutes, go in
and see her at once.’
“Hearing this announcement,
mother and I hastily retreated to our former seats, and with the curiosity
and excitement, which what we had witnessed naturally raised in us, silently
awaited the entry of the expected visitor. We had been thus seated,
but two or three minutes before he came in, and bowing graciously to my
mother said, ‘I take this to be Mistress Warner, the widow of my most esteemed
friend, the late Colonel Warner of the Continental Army?’ ‘It is,
Sir,’ she replied tremulously. ‘Will you permit me to introduce myself
to you, madam?” he resumed with that winning air of dignity I had noticed
in him from the first. ‘I am General Washington, and after I arrived
in this section of the country a few days ago, I hope you will pardon the
liberty I took with your private affairs. I made some inquiries about
you and the situation of your family when learning, to my deep regret,
that your late husband, in consequence of his long, continued absence from
his home and business, while in the service of his country, and his subsequent
shattered health, resulting from the hardships of war, left you laboring
under pecuniary embarrassments, I was prompted to come and see you.’
She replied, ‘I had little dreamed of such an honor and such a kindness,
General,’ nearly overpowered by her emotions and the imposing presence
of her august visitor. ‘There is a mortgage,’ he rejoined, without
responding in any way to her last remarks, ‘a rather heavy mortgage on
your homestead?’ ‘I am sorry,’ she replied sadly, ‘very sorry to
be compelled to say there is, General, a much heavier one that I can ever
pay.’ ‘So I had ascertained,’ he proceeded, ‘and I have also, before coming
here, been at the pains of ascertaining the exact amount now due, and required
to cancel this, to you doubtless, a ruinous encumbrance, and I propose
now to leave with you the sum of money you will need for effecting that
desirable object.’ ‘Does the money come from the government, Sir?’
she asked doubtfully, and with a look that seemed to say, if it does, then
all right.
“Washington looked
at her, hesitated a little at first, but soon, while taking up the valise
he had brought in with him, slowly responded, ‘In one sense it does, I
may say, madam, if you have delicacies on the subject. I am in receipt
of a liberal salary from the government, from which it is discretionary
with me to impart sometimes to deserving objectives, and I certainly know
of none so than one which will relieve the family of so meritorious an
officer as your late self-sacrificing husband.’ Without waiting for
any rejoinder to these remarks, he opened his valise and took from a bag
of silver money, and deliberately proceeded to draw out and count from
it, till he had reached the sum of nine hundred and some odd dollars, which
afterwards proved to be precisely the sum demanded in principal, interest,
and fees for the discharge of the mortgage on our place.
“He then, after
returning the money to the bags and setting it aside for the purpose he
had designated, and taking the hand of my mother, who seemed inclined to
remonstrate but could not force the words from her quivering lips, tenderly
but with an air that seemed to forbid any attempt at refusal, said to her,
‘Accept it.' Don’t hesitate to accept it. Take it and get the
mortgage discharged at once, and then all your immediately pressing anxieties
will be relieved and soon you will find those brighter days the God of
the widow has kept in store for you. And now, as my time is quite
limited, it only remains for me to say, Heaven bless you, dear madam, heaven
bless you. Farewell.’
‘I was present during
the whole interview between General Washington and my mother, heard every
word they both said and saw all the money counted down on the table and
feel very confident that I have neither taken from nor added to anything
that there took place. On leaving the house, Washington immediately
mounted his horse and rode away, leaving us quite unable, for a while,
to realize this unexpected visit and the still more unexpected benefaction.”
This reminiscence
is widely believed, although it sounds too good to be true. Elmer
Worthington, for one, disputes the son’s account. “Washington never
came anywhere near here,” he says, “Stratford is the nearest place he came,
after he became president.” But he also admits that, “Washington and Warner
were friends. I believe that Washington sent Connecticut’s delegate
to the continental congress William Samuel Johnson. I imagine probably
a trooper came along with Johnson, and the kid, twelve years old, thought
‘Gee, this is Washington,’ because he had a uniform on.”
Seth Warner Jr.
may have embellished on the story to substantiate his and his family’s
petition for further compensation. It was not the first. Petitions
on behalf of his family had been filed with congress by friends of the
family as well as with William Samuel Johnson, Connecticut’s delegate,
personally. Norman Hurlbut searched the journal of the Continental
Congress for the years 1786 and 1789 a century and a half later, as well
as William Samuel Johnson’s papers, but, “could find no reference to any
action being taken on the petitions.” He died wondering how Congress
could have ignored a petition signed by such prominent men as Vermont’s
governor ‘Thomas Chittenden, and Warner’s comrade in arms Ethan Allen,
the most famous of the Green Mountain Boys.
In 1858, about 75
years after he had been buried in one of Roxbury’s cemeteries, public interest
was once more aroused about his role in the War of Independence, and the
General Assembly voted $750 toward the construction of a monument on the
condition that Roxbury raise $250 toward the same end. In the autumn
of 1858 his remains were brought to the Green in the center of town, and
by the spring of 1859 an obelisk of Quincy granite was erected. Col.
Warner’s daughter Abigail, who had been nine years old when he died, then
84, was present at the reburial. The monument looks like a
smaller version of the Washington monument and has since served as the
spot where the town’s Memorial Service is held each year.
Worthington says
the Warner’s house stood on River Road, but except for descendants on the
distaff side, Roxbury saw the last of the ‘Baker clan’ in 1790. The
differences of opinion between him and the Hurlbuts, as we shall see in
another chapter, are not limited to whether Washington visited the Warner
home, either.
Ethan Allen
Few of Roxbury’s
famous men have so captured the imagination of their contemporaries as
Brigadier General Ethan Allen. There are probably few American school
boys who could not quote his famous summons to the commander of Fort Ticonderoga:
“Surrender in the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress.”
Ethan Allen was
one of the most daring, and popular soldiers of early American history.
Gifted by nature with the frame of a giant, he added to nature’s gift by
developing a most excellent opinion of himself and a confidence in his
ability to handle any problem that confronted him.
Seth Warner was
nearly six feet, three inches, and it was said that when walking together,
Ethan towered far above Seth, so it is likely that Ethan was six feet,
six inches tall. A demonstration of his strength and agility was
shown at the time of his surrender at Montreal, when he grasped an English
officer and by whirling him about, used him as a shield until some attacking
Indians were driven off. It is easy to understand his self-confidence.
However, this same trait most certainly contributed to his defeat in the
election at Dorset, when Seth Warner was chosen to command the Green Mountain
Boys in place of Ethan.
Ethan’s father,
Joseph Allen, was born October 14th, 1708, the son of Samuel Allen and
his wife, Mercy Wright, and grandson of Nehemiah Allen, who moved from
Windsor, Connecticut, with his mother, Ann Allen, widow of Samuel, to North
Hampton, Massachusetts.
Mercy Wright was
born in 1669, the second child of Judah Wright and Mercy Burt. Samuel
and Mercy moved from place to place and finally to Coventry, Connecticut,
where apparently Samuel died. About 1720 his widow moved to Litchfield,
where she died, in 1728. Her son Daniel was named executor of the
estate, while another son, Joseph was allotted one third of his mother’s
estate. In 1732 he gave deed to his sister Lydia and in March 1733
a deed to one Paul Pack, Jr. These deeds were for a hundred acres
each and by these Joseph conveyed all the real estate he had received from
his mother except right to certain “wild lands” which he retained until
1742, when he sold to one Harrison.
Some time after
1733, when he had parted with the homestead and other real estate in Litchfield,
he moved to Woodbury to the neighborhood of Shippauge Fort, where he became
acquainted with Mary, the daughter of John Baker, a prominent resident
of the new settlement. Joseph and Mary were married on March 11,
1736 by the Rev. Anthony Stoddard, the second minister of Woodbury.
About 1715 John
Baker had moved from his cabin on Good Hill to Shippauge and built his
small house near the fort, where he lived for fifteen years. Then
in 1730 he built the larger house that still survives. Joseph and
Mary then made their home in the vacant house until about 1740, when they
moved to Cornwall, Connecticut. Ethan was born in Roxbury on January
10th, 1737.
Norman put all of
these dates so succinctly because of an argument with Litchfield historians,
who claim that Ethan was born there. The evidence, Norman says, is
based on entries on the first page of volume one of the Litchfield Records,
where it says: “Daniel Allen was married to Mary Grant, April 28,
1736 by ye Rev. Mr. Timothy Collen, Minister of the Gospel.
“Joseph Allen and
Mary Baker were joined in marriage by ye Reverend Anthony Stoddard of Woodbury,
March 11, 1736.
“Ethan Allen, ye
son of Joseph Allen and Mary, his wife, was born January 10th, 1737.
“Elihu Allen, son
of Daniel Allen and Mary, his wife, was born May 4, 1739.
“Mercy Allen, ye
daughter of Daniel Allen and Mary, his wife, was born January 24th, 1737.”
The following pages
carry entries dating back to 1723 and on to 1750:
Rev. Stoddard’s records in Woodbury contain
the entry: “Joseph Allen and Mary Baker were joined together in marriage
by ye Anthony Stoddard, March ye 11th, 1736.”
You will note that
none of the entries mentioned where the event took place. In the record
of Litchfield it shows only the date, his name, his parent’s names and
the fact that they were legally married; and the same regarding the records
of his brother Daniel. Apparently, these records were all entered the same
day and covered a space of three years. Furthermore, the marriage
record of Joseph and Mary is there. Now, if we are to assume that because
the marriage is on the records of Litchfield, it is proof that it occurred
there, then we are asked to believe that Mary, accompanied by her minister,
and with her family and friends, journeyed on horseback some twenty miles
through an almost unbroken wilderness to a frontier town for her wedding.
Somewhat hard to believe. Far more likely is that the wedding took place
in her father’s new house. If the record of the marriage is not proof of
the place, then why does not the same course of reasoning apply to the
birth of Ethan?
One can find the
same kind of entries in the early records of Roxbury. A father would bring
in the Registrar’s office the record of his family: John, born on such
a date, Samuel on such a date, and so on. Nothing was said as to
the place where the birth occurred, apparently they didn’t think it was
important. In one instance an entire page is given to the record of one
family. Do these records prove that all the events mentioned took place
in Roxbury? By no means. Some of them may have happened before the family
moved here. In one case of a family moving from Stratford to Woodbury the
birth of the child is recorded in both Stratford and Woodbury. It is easy
to understand the father’s action. Not knowing whether the births
had been recorded in his place of former residence, he had them recorded
wherever he was making his new home. But note the coincidence that Joseph
and Mary were married in March, while Daniel and Mary were married in April.
Both brides were named Mary. Joseph’s son Ethan was born on January 10th,
Daniel’s daughter Mercy was born on January 24th. It is more than
possible that the families wanted these coincidences a matter of record,
regardless of where they took place.
Furthermore, Dr.
William Allen, a noted author, historian and biographer, president of Bowdoin
College from 1820 to 1839, and a member of the American Antiquarian Society,
wrote in his American Biographical and Historical Dictionary: ‘Brigadier
General Ethan Allen was born at Woodbury (Roxbury was then part of Woodbury)
January 10th, 1737.’ Dr. Allen himself was born in 1784 and was five years
old at the time of Ethan Allen’s death. Ethan was the fourth generation
from Samuel Allen of Windsor and Northhampton, and Dr. Allen the fifth.
It is more than probable that he knew from his own family where Ethan was
born. In any event, a statement made by a historian of the prestige of
Dr. Allen is not to be lightly thrust aside.
On September 25th,
1775, Ethan, in an unfortunate attempt to capture Montreal, was taken prisoner
by the British and carried to England. After his release in 1778, he published
a booklet giving an account of his experience as a prisoner of war. A reprint
of the little volume is in my possession. The preface, not written by Ethan,
states the following: “Ethan Allen, the author and subject of the following
narrative was certainly one of the most noted and notable men of his time.
Bold, ardent and unyielding, he possessed an unusual degree of vigor both
of body and of mind, and an unlimited confidence in his own abilities.
He was born in Roxbury, Litchfield County, Connecticut, on the 10th of
January 1737. He married in Connecticut and migrated to Vermont about the
year 1769, where he spent most of his later life.”
Also, the History
of Ancient Litchfield County, published in 1881 by the J.W. Lewis and
Co., Philadelphia, gives Roxbury as the place of his birth, as well as
a publication called The Family Magazine in 1837. William Cothren
in his History of Ancient Woodbury devotes a considerable space
in support of his conviction that Roxbury was the place of Ethan’s birth.
Can the statements in various publications be cast aside as of no moment?
It is hardly possible. However, I believe that Ethan’s spirit, in whatsoever
shades it may be wandering, would likely chuckle over the controversy over
where he first entered this vale of sorrow, when all his life he was much
more concerned as to where, when, and how he might have to leave it.
Joseph, soon after
the birth of Ethan, removed to Cornwall, where his several children were
born and where he died on April 14, 1755. Ethan spent much of his youth
at his grandfather’s home in Roxbury, which was also the home of his cousin,
Remember Baker, and not far away was the home of Remember’s cousin, Seth
Warner. The three boys grew up on tales of military affairs. Grandfather
Baker and Seth’s father and Grandfather Warner were prominent officers
in the ‘train band,” somewhat similar to our militia of later days.
Grandfather Baker’s home was but a stone’s throw from the fort on Sentry
Hill. No doubt the boys spent many an hour listening to the soldiers.
With the training from early boyhood in matters military, they were being
fitted for the roles they were to play in the stirring times before and
during the Revolution.
Remember, enlisting
in the Northern Army at the age of eighteen, brought back tales of adventure
and danger that helped to fan the imagination of Ethan and Seth.
Remember was just half a dozen years older than Ethan and Seth. Ethan
had settled in Cornwall, and in 1762, started in the iron business in Salisbury.
In the same year he was married to Mary, the daughter of Cornelius Brownson,
the miller. He was married by the Rev. Daniel Brinsmade, paying him
four shillings.
In 1764, while a
resident of Salisbury, he purchased a one-sixteenth interest in the mining
rights of Mine Hill in Roxbury, but more exciting fields were calling.
About 1772, leaving the scenes of his boyhood, he joined Remember and Seth
in the new lands in the Green Mountains. Almost immediately he became,
with Remember and Seth, an acknowledged leader of the settlers in their
resistance to the New York authorities over land titles and they offered
50 pounds for his apprehension.
On one occasion,
accepting a dare from his friends, Ethan mounted his horse and, riding
to Albany, entered a tavern and called for a bowl of punch. After
attending to the punch he placed his hands on his hips and announced to
the company, “My name’s Allen, now who wants that reward?” Faced with such
a giant the bystanders apparently decided discretion was the better part
of valor and let him return to the hills of Vermont.
Soon after the outbreak
of the Revolution pushed the differences with New York into the background,
the plans for the capture of Ticonderoga were under way. About four
o’clock on the morning of May 10, 1775, Col. Ethan Allen was delivering
his famous order to commander de la Place to surrender. Allen continued
in the lead in the activities of the war until the 24th of September, 1775,
when he and thirty-eight of his men were captured in an ill-advised attack
on Montreal. Ethan, in his narrative, tells of the incidents of his
surrender. It seems that the plan agreed upon was that Major Brown
was to lead a force around the rear of the town, and when they reached
their position to give three loud huzzas, which were to be answered by
Allen’s men, so serving notice that the attack was to begin. Through
some mistake Brown’s men failed to give the signal and Allen’s men were
forced to withstand the attack of the entire English garrison as their
retreat was cut off by the river. Allen’s men numbered only about
one hundred and ten, while the English forces were as high as five hundred.
Meanwhile, Allen had ordered two detachments to guard his flanks.
Both grasped the opportunity to make good their own escape, leaving Allen
with about forty men to cope with five hundred. Faced with such odds
Allen at last agreed to surrender, “Provided I could be treated with honor.”
How this promise was kept Allen tells later.
A half minute after
he had given his sword, a naked, painted savage came running and at a dozen
feet or so drew his firelock at him. Immediately, Allen grasped the
officer to whom he had delivered his sword and, whirling him about, kept
him as a shield, until a second savage joined in the attack, forcing Allen’s
shield to move so swiftly as almost to leave the ground. At this
stage of the game, an Irishman came to Allen’s defense with a fixed bayonet
and swearing, “By Jesus, I will kill the Devil.”
Allen was treated
with decent courtesy until he came before General Prescott, who enquired
if he was the Allen who took Ticonderoga. Allen replied that he was
the very man, at which General Prescott flew into a rage, shaking his cane
over Allen’s head and calling him hard names. Allen warned him not
to cane him and shaking his huge fists in Prescott’s face, assured him,
if he made the attempt, it would be his last act.
Prescott then ordered
Allen taken on board a schooner of war lying before Montreal and had both
his wrists and legs shackled with chains. The handcuffs were of usual
size, but Allen says that the leg irons would weigh thirty pounds.
They were fastened to an iron bar eight feet long in such a way that he
could lie down only on his back. He was placed in the lowest part
of the vessel and given a wooden chest to sit on and use for bed at night.
In this manner he
was confined under chains and insults on board this boat for six weeks.
In one instance, after being goaded to fury by the insults, he twisted
a nail out of his handcuffs with his teeth and heard one of his guards
say, ‘Why, damn him. Does he eat iron?’ After that they fastened
the cuffs with a small padlock. To help cheer his spirits he was
frequently taunted with the remark that the sole purpose of being carried
to England was that he might, “grace a halter at Tyburn.” Allen and
his men to the number of thirty-four were forced into a small room lined
with white oak plank and measuring possibly twenty by twenty-two feet.
Later, two more were added, and in this filthy enclosure they were confined
for forty days, until the boat landed at Falmouth.
The populace had
heard of the rebel who had dared to attack the King’s fortress was coming,
and they gathered in such numbers that the guards were obliged to force
their way through the mob with drawn swords. Ethan says the housetops
and rising ground were lined with people as the prisoners were marched
to Pendennis Castle for, ‘to see a gentleman in England regularly dressed
and well behaved would be no sight at all, but such a rebel, as they were
pleased to call me, it is probable, was never before seen in England.’
It must have been a sensation for those Britishers to glimpse this giant
from the forests of America, dressed in a fawn-skin jacket with underdress
and breeches of sagatha (a woolen material similar to broadcloth), worsted
stocking and worsted cap.
During his confinement
at the Castle he was visited by many of the curious, some gentlemen saying
they had come fifty miles to see him. Most of the visitors expressed
their opinion that he was to be hanged sooner or later which, of course,
did not add to his peace of mind. About the first of January, contrary
to the expectations of his captors, Allen and his men were placed on board
ship for the return to America as prisoners of war, and on the third of
May cast anchor in the harbor of Cape Fear, in North Carolina. Soon
after, the prisoners were transferred to the frigate Mercury, and on May
2th, set sail for Halifax. The frigate came to anchor on the Hook
of New York, where she remained for three days. Here the boat was
visited by Gov. Tryon and Mr. Kemp, the Tories from Albany, Allen’s old
enemies. They held no conversation with Allen, but he noticed that
after his visitors departed their treatment by the officers was more severe.
The boat again took off for Halifax, where they arrived about the middle
of June. Not long after, the prisoners were again transferred to
New York, arriving there late in October. Here Allen was placed on
parole and allowed the limits of New York City. His constitution,
which had been almost worn out by his barbarous treatment during his long
confinement, now began to mend, and in six months, he nearly regained his
usual health.
During his parole
in New York, he was called to the residence of an English officer and told
that his faithfulness, though in a wrong cause, had recommended him to
General Howe, who had promised him a prominent position in the English
army in return for his allegiance and when the war was over, large grants
of land to be confiscated from the Rebels. ‘I replied that if by
faithfulness I had recommended myself to General Howe, I should be loth
by unfaithfulness to lose the General’s good opinion. Besides, I
viewed the offer of land not unlike that of the devil to Jesus Christ,
to give him all the kingdoms of the world, if he would fall down and worship
him, when all the time the old devil didn’t own a foot of ground on earth.’
This ended the conversation and he was sent back to the post as incorrigible.
Ethan was finally
exchanged on May 3, 1778, for a Col. Campbell, after having been confined
to the provost-jail in New York since the 26th of August. He was
taken out under guard and conducted to the quarters of General Campbell,
“where I was admitted to eat and drink with the General and several other
British officers and treated in a polite manner.” The next day, Col.
Campbell arrived, conducted by Elias Boudinot, (later president of the
Continental Congress). “Col. Campbell saluted me in a handsome manner
saying he was never more glad to see a gentleman in his life. I gave
him to understand that I was equally glad to see him.” One can well
understand Allen’s pleasure at meeting his exchange, after three years
of insult and abuse.
“At Valley Forge
I was courteously received by Gen. Washington and was introduced to most
of the generals, who treated me with respect. I took my leave of
his Excellency and set out with General Gates and his suite for Fishkill,
where we arrived the latter end of May. I then bid farewell to my
noble general and set out for Bennington, where I arrived to their great
surprise, for I was to them as one arose from the dead.” Cannon were
fired and friends gathered round with every expression of joy. Their
idol was back. Next day, Colonel Herrick ordered fourteen discharges
of cannon, thirteen for the United States and one for young Vermont.
As soon as his exchange
had been effected, Congress appointed Allen a Colonel in the Continental
Army, although it is not certain he ever entered into actual service.
Shortly after his return to Vermont, he was appointed a General and commander
of the militia of the state. At the next election he was chosen as
Representative in the Assembly.
On his retirement
from military affairs he engaged in frontier farming and in writing his
conclusions on various religious subjects. His “Conclusions” in these
subjects scandalized the strict orthodox clergy of his day, some of whom
referred to him as that “awful infidel.” But in my study of Allen,
I believe he was not so much an infidel, but an agnostic, a searcher after
truth, and one who could not accept the dogmatic teaching of the clergy
of his time.
The year 1789 had
been very unfavorable for farm operations. Late in the winter, Ethan’s
supply of hay became nearly exhausted. His brother offered him a
load, and he, with a negro driver, came across the river with his oxcart
and was to spend the night. By evening the news that Ethan was come
had been noised about, and old cronies began to arrive at the Allen home.
Stories of old days and memories of the war were told and retold with,
of course, the rounds of drinks to quicken their memories. Late that
night the old warriors withdrew and quiet reigned for a time, but in the
morning Ethan was astir and he and his driver started for home. Not
far on their journey, the driver noticed that Ethan was in a bad way.
He whipped up his team, but it was late in the afternoon when they reached
home. Late that night, February 12, 1789, Ethan Allen’s stormy life
came to its end.
The one thing prominent
in the life of Ethan Allen was his almost unlimited confidence in his ability
to cope with whatever difficulty confronted him. Little can be added
to the eulogy written by the historian, Jared Sparks, an early president
of Harvard College: “There is much to admire in the character of
Ethan Allen. He was brave, generous and frank, true to his country,
consistent and unyielding in his purpose, seeking at all times to promote
the best good of mankind, a lover of social harmony, and a determined foe
to the artifices of injustice and the encroachments of power. Few
have suffered more in the cause of freedom. Few have borne their
sufferings with a firmer constancy or a loftier spirit. His enemies
never had cause to question his magnanimity, or his friends regret confidence
or expectations disappointed. He was kind, benevolent, and placable.”
In short here was
a man, whom Roxbury may well be proud to say: “He was born here.”
Ethan could never
be browbeaten. On one occasion, when as a prisoner of war, he was
walking the deck, an (sic) officer accosted him, “Sir, don’t you know that
this deck is for gentlemen only?” His reply: “By God, I do,
Sir. That’s why I’m here.” One of the earlier stories is to
the effect that certain of his friends thought to throw a scare, and donning
white sheets, hid under a bridge, waiting for Ethan to pass by. On
their appearance Ethan halts and accosts the ghosts, “Well, if you’re angels
of light, I’m happy to meet you, and if devils, come home with me, I married
your sister.”
In the Historical
Museum at Montpelier, Vermont, there is a brick from the roof of the cell,
where he was confined as a prisoner of war by the British, his wooden canteen,
snuff box, and his gun. In memory of him there is a park at Burlington,
Vermont, a military post, and also the Ethan Allen Highway.”
But Norman Hurlbut
was not averse to searching for deeper truths in history, and concluded
his chapter on the Green Mountain Boys and Ethan Allen with the following
reflection: “Before we take leave of Ethan, let us ponder a moment
the vagaries of fate. Earlier in the chapter, I referred to the ill-advised
attack on Montreal, but just a moment. Careltone, believing he was
threatened by a considerable force, was on the point of abandoning the
town, when word reached him of the weakness of the enemy, and he prepared
for battle. Now, had Major Brown fulfilled his part of the strategy,
it is quite likely that their combined forces would have taken the town.
Then they could have heard the plaudits winging through the colonies:
‘The great Ethan Allen, the hero of Ticonderoga, has added to his laurels
by the capture of the stronghold of Montreal.’ What a hero he would
have become. But fate was looking the other way, and Ethan was a
prisoner of war and his participation in the war was over.
“Again let us suppose
that on that May morning at Ticonderoga, Commander de la Place had been
warned of Allen’s approach and had prepared a reception for him.
As Allen and Arnold came through that sallyport, instead of being challenged
by a single sentry, they would have faced the guns of an alert garrison,
and the first volley would have killed both Allen and Arnold as well as
many of the men while the survivors would never have been able to escape
by the boats. Allen would have been branded as a hare-brained enthusiast,
who thought he could with a few men at his back take possession of the
king’s fortress of Ticonderoga. But this time fortune or fate, whichever
one wishes to call it, smiled, and Ethan Allen became one of America’s
heroes.”