Читать книгу The Sages and Heroes of the American Revolution - L. Carroll Judson - Страница 13

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Wyoming Valley is the Paradise of Pennsylvania. Captivating in its location—rich in its soil—irrigated by the crystal Susquehanna—bordered with magnificent scenery of romantic grandeur—enlivened by beautiful farm-houses and productive fields—crowned with the flourishing town of Wilkesbarre—ornamented by several small villages of tasteful neatness—refreshed by cooling springs and mountain streams filled with sportive trout—evergreen forests adjacent towering to the clouds and full of game—graduated hills on every side rich with minerals and reaching to the mountains—a healthful atmosphere rendered pure by the untiring operations of nature's laboratory—inhabited by intelligent, enterprising, hospitable people—it is one of the most beautiful and delightful valleys in our expansive country. Its early history renders it sacred to the philanthropist and is read with thrilling sensations of painful sympathy. It has engaged the pens of our best historians—our ablest poets. It has been painted with the finest touches of our boldest artists. When strangers pass the narrow confines of the majestic mountains on the south and are ushered into this grand amphitheatre of creative wisdom—they gaze with pleasing surprise and wonder at the weakness of the most vivid descriptions they have read, compared with the sublime reality of the enrapturing view before them.

In this far-famed valley Zebulon Butler acted a conspicuous, brave and noble part. He was born at Lyme, Conn. in 1731. He received a good common school and religious education. The New Testament was then an approved school-book. He early planted himself on the firm basis of moral rectitude and primitive religious truth. Without these the laurels of the hero are less fragrant—the talents of the legislator less brilliant—the noblest attributes of man less perfect. By these remarks I do not mean Pharisaical religion, poisonous fanaticism nor blighting sectarianism. It is the honest, consistent, Golden Rule man I admire. Such a man was Zebulon Butler. He was one of the first patriots who opposed British tyranny and dared to be free. He entered early into the Provincial service and served the mother country through the French war. He commenced his military career an Ensign and soon rose to the rank of Captain. He participated in the memorable hardships of the campaign of 1758 on the frontiers of Canada—at Fort Edward, Lake George, Ticonderoga and Crown Point. In 1762 he was at the protracted siege of Havana. On his way he was on board one of the six vessels that were shipwrecked. All on board narrowly escaped a watery grave. They were on the beach nine days before they were relieved. On the 9th day of August the last of the fleet arrived before Havana. The defence was obstinate—the sufferings of the besiegers great.

Capt. Butler shared largely in the dangers of the attack—the glories of the victory. He sailed for his long absent home on the 21st of the ensuing October in the Royal Duke. He encountered many perils during the voyage. On the 7th of November the ship began to leak so rapidly that it was with difficulty that her crew were transferred to another vessel near by before she went to the bottom. He arrived at New York on the 21st of December and once more met the warm embrace of anxious relatives and friends. He had won enduring laurels—he stood high as a brave and skilful officer—an esteemed and valued citizen. He then left the army and enjoyed the peaceful pleasures of private life until the revolutionary storm began to concentrate its fearful elements. He was ready to brave its pitiless peltings. He had rendered arduous and valuable service to the mother country—he was well qualified to repel her ungrateful conduct and render efficient aid in the defence of his native soil. The goadings and insolence of British hirelings had deeply penetrated his patriotic soul and prepared him for bold and noble action. When the tocsin of war was sounded from the heights of Lexington he promptly tendered his services—was appointed a lieutenant-colonel in the Connecticut line and repaired to the post of honor and danger. He was actively engaged in the campaigns of 1777-8-9. During the last year he was commissioned colonel of the 2d Connecticut regiment. He was with Washington in New Jersey and greatly esteemed by him.

A short time previous to the revolution he was one of a company from his native place that had purchased Wyoming Valley from the Indians for a fair consideration. Many settlers had located there and cleared up much of the forest. Although fully remunerated for their lands pursuant to contract made with the Chiefs in grand council assembled—the red men were unwilling to leave a place so enchanting and congenial with their views of happiness. In that salubrious vale, fringed with hills and mountains on all sides, they fancied the Great Spirit had his dwelling-place and gave them audible audience as echo reverberated their stentorian yells from hill to mountain and back to the shores of the majestic Susquehanna. As the towering forest fell before the axe of the white man the Indians murmured and designed the extermination of the pale faces. In this they were encouraged by the British and black-hearted tories—most of the inhabitants having declared for liberty. Most of their effective force of near 200 men was in the American army. Soon after the departure of these troops the savages assumed a menacing attitude—manifesting a disposition to violate the terms of peace they had solemnly sanctioned when paid for their lands. Several stockade forts were erected—a company of rangers organized and placed under the command of Captain Hewitt. Every precaution was taken to guard against surprise—the movements of the red men were narrowly watched, their apparent designs closely observed. It soon became evident that they were preparing for a bloody sacrifice. An express was despatched to the board of war representing the approaching danger requesting the return of the troops who had recently joined the army—leaving their homes exposed to all the horrors of savage cruelty rendered more awful by the more bloodthirsty tories. The request was promptly granted but too late to ward off the fatal slaughter and carnage that took place when these brave men were within two days' march of their murdered wives, children and friends who slumbered in death deeply gashed with the tomahawk.

About the 1st of June 1778, a number of canoes were discovered descending the river just above the valley filled with Indian warriors. They attacked a party of the inhabitants who were at work on the bank of the Susquehanna—killing and making prisoners of ten. They were evidently concentrating their forces for the purpose of an attack upon the settlement. At that critical juncture Col. Butler arrived. A large body of the savages had assembled at the mouth of the Lackawanna at the head of the valley. The militia under the command of Col. Dennison assembled in the fort at Wilkesbarre on the 1st of July. They scoured the borders of the valley—discovered the bodies of those who had been massacred a few days before—killed two Indians and returned. Not supposing danger so near each man repaired to his own house for provisions. On the 3d most of the men able to bear arms assembled at the fort amounting to about 350. Some remained in the smaller forts with their families presuming on the delay of an attack. The command of the troops was given to Col. Butler. They were poorly armed and had but a small supply of ammunition. But few of them had ever been engaged in battle and were not familiar with military tactics. In a few moments after Col. Butler had assumed the command news was brought that the enemy had entered the upper end of the valley and were advancing rapidly. Fort Wintermote and another stockade fort was then in flames and their inmates weltering in blood and struggling in death. A council of war was held and an unfortunate resolve made to march out and attempt to arrest the savages in their career of desolation and carnage. The troops proceeded some distance from the fort and took an advantageous position on the bank of a creek where they supposed the enemy would pass on their way to the principal fort. There they remained for half a day without seeing the foe. Another council of war was held which resulted in adding to the error of leaving the fort that of attacking the enemy in their position contrary to the opinion of several officers who were as brave but more judicious than those who urged the fatal movement. The order to advance was given. They had not proceeded more than a mile when the advanced guard fired upon several Indians who were firing a house. The force of the enemy was concentrated at fort Wintermote amounting to near 1000 effective men commanded by Brandt, an Indian half-blood and Col. John Butler—not a relative of Col. Zebulon Butler as some writers have erroneously stated. Echo returned the demoniac yells of the savages from the surrounding hills—the forest resounded with the appalling war whoop. Another serious error was committed by the ill-fated Americans. Not until they were upon the battle-ground did they learn the superior force of the revengeful foe. As the little band approached they found the Indians and tories formed in a line—the right resting on a swamp commanded by Brandt—the left reaching to fort Wintermote headed by Col. John Butler. Col. Z. Butler led the right and Col. Dennison the left of the Americans to the attack. So determined was this Spartan band on victory that the left of the enemy gave way in a few minutes closely pursued by Col. Butler. In consequence of part of the Indians passing the swamp to gain his rear Col. Dennison ordered his men to fall back. Many supposing he had ordered a retreat the line became confused and broken. At that unfortunate juncture Brandt rushed upon it with such fury that it could not be rallied. At that critical moment Col. Butler rode towards the left and first learned the misfortune of Col. Dennison and saw his men retreating in disorder. He was then between two fires and near the advancing enemy. Before the troops on the right were apprised of the fate of the left they were nearly surrounded by the savages and compelled to retreat precipitately. The route was general—the slaughter horrible—the scene terrific. But about 50 survived among whom were Colonels Butler and Dennison who were more exposed than most of the others. The few who escaped from the dreadful carnage of that fatal day assembled at Forty Fort. So heart-rending was this defeat that the surviving inhabitants were willing to submit to any terms to save their lives. The enemy refused to treat with any officer of the continental army as unquestionably advised by the hyena tories. Nor would they give them or regular soldiers any quarter but insisted on their being delivered up to the Indians at discretion. Col. Butler at once left and proceeded to Gradenhutten on the Lehigh. On the 4th of July Col. Dennison entered into a capitulation with Col. John Butler and Brandt to surrender the Fort on condition the lives of the survivors should be preserved and not further molested in person or property. These conditions were solemnly agreed to by tory Butler and Brandt but most disgracefully violated. As the Indians marched in they commenced an indiscriminate plunder. Butler was appealed to and replied he could not control them—walked out and left them to finish their work in their own way. The man who could urge the savages on to murder could leave them to rob the helpless, regardless of his sacred pledge of honor.

Finding themselves still at the mercy of the Indians the inhabitants fled to the nearest settlement towards the Delaware about 50 miles distant through a dense wilderness and over rugged mountains. So rapidly did they fly on the wings of terror that numbers became exhausted from over fatigue and hunger and were carried on the last day by the stronger ones. After their departure the savage tories and red men laid waste the town of Wilkesbarre and most of the houses in the valley—plundering or destroying all the property they could find. They then drove the cattle and horses to Niagara. They had fully satiated their thirst for blood—desolation was completed—vengeance was gorged—nature mourned over the dismal scene.

From Gradenhutten Col. Butler communicated the sad intelligence of the bloody massacre to the Board of War and then proceeded to Stroudsburg then in Northampton county, where he met the returning Wyoming troops and a few of those who had escaped on the day of the unfortunate battle. In August he was ordered to return with such force as he could collect and take possession of Wyoming valley. On his arrival he found a few Indians who were collecting the cattle that the main body had left. They fled precipitately without their plunder. Col. Butler erected a new fort at Wilkesbarre and established a well regulated garrison which he commanded until the winter of 1780—keeping the tories and savages at bay—not risking a general action but killing them off in detail by scouting parties of sharp-shooters whenever they approached the settlement. The expedition of Gen. Sullivan in 1779 paralyzed the Indian power upon the Susquehanna and restored a good degree of confidence in the inhabitants.

In December 1780 Col. Butler was ordered to join the continental army and left Capt. Alexander Mitchell in command of the fort. After serving his country faithfully to the close of the war of Independence the Colonel returned to the vale of Wyoming to enjoy the fruits of his perilous toils and the gratitude of the inhabitants whom he had nobly aided and protected. He subsequently filled sundry civil offices with credit and fidelity. He lived to see his loved Wyoming bloom with the fruits of industry—its inhabitants peaceful, prosperous, happy. He was amply rewarded for the perils and hardships of the past by the full fruition of the enjoyments of the present. His happiness was as complete as it could be made this side of heaven. Dearly beloved by his immediate friends, esteemed by all who knew him—the waning years of Col. Butler were crowned with the most refined comforts of social and domestic life. He glided down the stream of time smoothly and calmly to the 28th of July 1795, when he threw off his mortal coil—resigned his quiescent spirit into the hands of its Creator—fell asleep in the arms of his Lord and Master deeply mourned and sincerely lamented. His career closed as brightly as it had been glorious and useful. He was an amiable companion, a virtuous citizen, a consistent Christian—a brave, noble, worthy, honest man.

A creditable monument has been erected on the battle ground in memory of those who fell on the memorable 3d of July 1778 in the far famed valley of Wyoming.