THE SLAUGHTER AT WYOMING.
The history of Col. Bigelow is so interwoven with that of the Revolution, that it is difficult to separate the two. We shall therefore, give in this chapter a short account of the bloody butchery of the inhabitants of that beautiful little colony at Wyoming, and what Col. Bigelow thought of that demoniac cruelty, the bare remembrance of which makes us shudder. Wilkesbarre is the shire town of Luzerne county, Pa. It is situated in the Wyoming valley, one hundred and fourteen miles northeast from Harrisburg, and one hundred and twenty northwest from Philadelphia. This place was settled by emigrants from Connecticut in 1773, under the auspices of one Col. Durkee, who gave it the compound name it bears in honor of two eminent and zealous advocates of the American cause in the British parliament, Wilkes and Barre. Wyoming contained eight townships, each containing a square of five miles, beautifully situated on both sides of the Susquehanna. Wilkesbarre is one of those towns. The inhabitants of this beautiful valley were much engaged in their country's cause, and nearly one thousand of their young men had joined the army, and were absent from home. Most of those remaining at home were tories, although these were not so numerous as the friends of liberty. Yet they formed an alliance with the Indians, and the first of July there appeared before the fort at Wilkesbarre about sixteen hundred armed men, two-thirds of which were tories and one-third Indians. The colony of Wyoming could muster only about five hundred men. In this condition, the tories and Indians fell upon them, and put them nearly all to death; only about sixty escaped. Never was a rout so deplorable; never was a massacre accompanied with so many horrors. The barbarians took the men, women and children promiscuously into houses and barracks, and set fire to them and consumed them all, listening, delighted, to hear the moans and shrieks of the expiring multitude.
The crops of every description were consigned to the flames. The habitations, granaries, and other constructions—the fruit of years of human industry—sunk in ruin, under the destructive strokes of those cannibals. Their fury was also wreaked upon the very beasts. They cut out the tongues of the horses and cattle, and left them to wander in the midst of those fields, lately so luxuriant, but now in desolation, to undergo the torments of a lingering death. Capt. Bedlock was stripped naked, and stuck full of pine splinters and set on fire. Captains Ransom and Durgee were thrown alive into the fire. One of the tories, whose mother had married a second husband, butchered her with his own hand, and then massacred his father-in-law, his own sisters, and their infants in the cradle. Another killed his own father, and exterminated all his family. A third imbued his hands in the blood of his brothers, his sisters, his brother-in-law, and his father-in-law. Other atrocities, if possible still more abominable, we leave in silence. The tories appeared to vie with and even to surpass the savages in barbarity. Such men as these, Col. Bigelow had to contend with in Worcester, in 1774, and upon hearing of this bloody massacre, it was said that Col. Bigelow was filled with horror and indignation, and swore eternal vengeance and condign punishment upon all the tories. Col. Bigelow at this time was at his post in Rhode Island, and on hearing of this bloody tragedy, it was said by the same informant, that he walked his room for one hour without speaking. At length he exclaimed, "Our worst enemies are those of our own household."
IX.
SCOUTING.
After the British evacuated Rhode Island, Col. Bigelow moves on with his regiment, and the next we hear of him he is at "Verplank's Point." The American army was at this time very much divided. The great object of the commander-in-chief was to annoy the British forces as much as possible, and we think that it is not saying too much of Col. Bigelow, that no Colonel in the whole American army was better qualified for that service. His whole life had been and was at this time, devoted to his country's cause. He had left Worcester and all its pleasant associations, with a determination to free the colonies from the mother country, or die in the attempt. He seemed to feel that the whole responsibility of the struggle rested on him. Always ready to obey orders from superior officers cheerfully, and never wanting in energy to execute them. The deep snows of Quebec had not cooled his ardor. The fetid stench of an English prison ship could not abate his love of liberty and country. The blood and carnage of Saratoga and of Monmouth had given him confidence. The blood-stained soil of Valley Forge had inured him to hardships to which others would have yielded.
The news of the bloody butchery at Wyoming had aroused his iron nerve to its utmost tension against tories, and in this condition he was ordered with his regiment to Robinson's Farms, N. J. Here he breaks up a "nest" of tories, who were supplying the English with hay, grain and other things necessary for their army. An anecdote of this bloodless battle was related to the writer by one of Col. Bigelow's men, who was present at the time. The English had sent a company of men to guard their teams while removing some hay they were receiving from their friends the tories, when Col. Bigelow came up with his regiment, and ordered them to disperse. The tories were insolent; the English captain refused to go until the hay went with them. Upon this Col. Bigelow ordered a part of his men to fire upon them. At this moment, one of Col. Bigelow's men, from Worcester, who had just joined the regiment, and, we are sorry to say, was a coward, exclaimed at the top of his voice, "In the name of God, why don't Col. Bigelow order us to retreat?" This man in after life received a pension from government, and died respected a few years since in this city. His children are now living here, and therefore we shall not call his name. He was always afraid of gunpowder. The English were also frightened and fled, leaving the hay on the hands of Col. Bigelow, who, having no use for it, returned it to its tory owner, on the express condition that he should not sell it to the British.
Colonel Bigelow is now ordered to Peekskill. This is a town on the Hudson, forty-six miles north of New York, and one hundred and six miles south of Albany. Here he frightened the tories, and drove the British down the river to New York. Col. Bigelow is again at Verplank's, and Stony Point, guarding the pass called King's Ferry. Gen. Clinton moves upon them with the British army, and Commodore Collier with the British squadron ascends the river; the British storm the fort named the Fort of Lafayette, at Verplank's; the fortress had to surrender, but not until Col. Bigelow showed them the points of his bayonets. It was said of this conflict, that Col. Bigelow ordered his men to draw their charge and approach the enemy with fixed bayonets, while he himself laid aside his sword and took a musket from a sick soldier, and with it fought more like a tiger than a man. This fort, being overpowered by the enemy, at length gave way and surrendered at discretion. The policy of the English is now to resume the war of devastation, and the army is ordered into South Carolina. Gen. Gates is ordered to the command of the southern army.