The Pictorial Field-Book of the Revolution, Vol. 2 (of 2) / or, Illustrations, by Pen And Pencil, of the History, Biography, Scenery, Relics, and Traditions of the War for Independence

by Benson John Lossing

A little northward of the fort rises a granite monument, one hundred and twenty-seven feet high, the foundation-stone of which is one hundred and thirty feet above tide-water. It was erected in 1830, in memory of the patriots who fell in the fort in 1781. Its pedestal, twenty-six feet square, rises to the height of about twenty feet, and upon it is reared an obelisk which is twenty-two feet square at the base, and twelve feet at the top. It is ascended within by one hundred and sixty-eight stone steps; and at the top is a strong iron railing for the protection of visitors. Marble tablets with inscriptions are placed upon the pedestal.2 The cost of its erection was eleven thousand dollars, which amount was raised by a lottery authorized by the state for that purpose.

I paid the tribute-money of a "levy," or York shilling, to a tidy little woman living in the stone building seen at the right of the monument, which procured for me the ponderous key of the structure, and, locking myself in, I ascended to the top, with the privilege of gazing and wondering there as long as I pleased. It was a toilsome journey up that winding staircase, for my muscles had scarcely forgotten a similar draught upon their energies at Breed's Hill; but I was comforted by the teachings of the new philosophy that the spiral is the only true ascent to a superior world of light, and beauty, and expansiveness of vision and so I found it, for a most magnificent view burst upon the sight as I made the last upward revolution and stood upon the dizzy height. The broad, cultivated hills and valleys; the forests and groves slightly variegated by the pencil of recent frost; the city and river at my feet, with their busy men and numerous sails; the little villages peeping from behind the hills and woodlands in every direction, and the heaving Sound glittering in the southern horizon, were all basking in the light of the morning sun, whose radiance, from that elevation, seemed brighter than I had ever seen it. It was a charming scene for the student of nature, and yet more charming for the student of the romance of American history. At the

* This is a view from the southwest angle of old Fort Griswold, looking northeast. The embankments of the fort are seen in the foreground; near the figure is the well, the same mentioned by Mr. Hempstead in his narrative; and just beyond this is the old entrance, or sally-port, through which the enemy, under Bromfield, entered the fort.

** Over the entrance of the monument is the following inscription: This Monument was erected under the patronage of the State of Connecticut, A.D. 1830, and in the 55th year of the Independence of the U. S. A., In memory of the brave Patriots who fell in the massacre at Fort Griswold, near this spot, on the 6th of September, A.D. 1781, when the British under the command of the traitor Benedict Arnold, burned the towns of New London and Groton, and spread desolation and woe throughout this region. On the south side of the pedestal, toward the fort, on a large tablet, are the names of the eighty-five persons who were killed in the fort, over which is the following: "Zebulon and Naphtali were a people that jeoparded their lives until the death in the high places of the field.—Judges, 5 chap., 18 verse."

*** See Swedenborg's Views of the Spiritual World, and Revelations of Davis, the clairvoyant.

A Retrospect.—The Pequots.—English Expedition against them.—Attack on their Fort—Pequot Hill.

base of the monument were the ruined fortifications where patriot blood flowed in abundance; and at a glance might be seen every locality of interest connected with the burning of New London and the massacre at Groton. Here was Fort Griswold; there were Fort Trumbull and the city; and yonder, dwindling to the stature of a chessman, was the lighthouse, by whose beacon the arch-traitor and his murderous bands were guided into the harbor.

Let us turn back two centuries, and what do we behold from this lofty observatory? The Thames is flowing in the midst of an unbroken forest, its bosom rippled only by the zephyr, the waterfowl, or the bark canoe. Here and there above the tree tops curls of blue smoke arise from the wigwams of the savages, and a savory smell of venison and fish comes up from the Groton shore. Around us spreads the broad fair land known as the Pequot country, extending from the Nahantic, on the west, to the dominion of the Narragansets—the Rhode Island line—on the east, and northward it interlocks with that of the Mohegans, where Uncas, the rebel sachem, afterward bore rule. * On yonder hill, a little southeast from our point of view, crowned with the stately oak and thick-leaved maple, is the royal residence of Sassacus, the prince of the Pequots. Haughty and insolent, he scorns every overture of friendship from the whites, and looks with contempt upon the rebellious doings of Uncas. Near by is his strong fort upon the Mystic River, and around him stand seven hundred warriors ready to do his bidding. The English are but a handful, what has he to fear? Much, very much!

It is the season of flowers. The white sails of vessels flutter in Narraganset Bay (now the harbor of Newport), and Captain Mason and seventy-seven well-armed May 1637 men kneel upon their decks in devotion, for it is the morning of the Christian Sabbath. On Tuesday they land. Miantonômoh, the chief sachem, gives them audience, and a free passport through his country. Nor is this all; with two hundred of his tribe, Miantonômoh joins the English on their march of forty miles through the wilderness toward the Mystic River; and the brave Niantics and the rebellious Mohegans, led by Uncas, swell the ranks, until five hundred savage "bowmen and spearmen" are in the train of Captain Mason.