He was too soon to learn the sad mistake.
The royalists attempted to throw off the responsibility of this act, by asserting that Mrs. Caldwell was killed by a chance shot. But all the evidence goes to show that it was deliberately planned, and that the soldier by whose hand the bloody deed was committed, only acted in accordance with his orders. The fact that her body was allowed to be so rudely treated, while many of the officers felt their abhorrence for the deed, proves that, although they felt respect for her remains, they knew the will of their superiors, and therefore dared not show it.
The following anecdote, connected with this invasion, shows pretty clearly who were the murderers of Mrs. Caldwell. The flames from the burning dwelling could be seen from "Liberty Hall," the residence of Governor Livingston, who was, at that time, absent from home. Parties of soldiers were continually passing the house, but, for some reason, it was spared. But about midnight a party of soldiers, partially intoxicated, rushed into the house. The maid-servant—all the males in the establishment having taken refuge in the woods, early in the day, to avoid being made prisoners—fastened herself in the kitchen; and the ladies—Mrs. Livingston and her daughters—crowded together like frightened deer, locked themselves in another apartment. Their place of retreat was soon discovered by the ruffians; and, afraid to exasperate them by refusing to come out, one of Governor Livingston's daughter's opened the door. A drunken soldier seized her by the arm; she grasped the villain's collar, and, at the very moment, a flash of lightning illuminated the hall, and, falling upon her white dress, he staggered back, exclaiming, with an oath:
"It's Mrs. Caldwell, that we killed to-day."
One of the party was at length recognized, and, by his intervention, the house was finally cleared of the assailants.[[2]]
[2]. Life of Livingston.
But the vengeance of Mr. Caldwell's enemies was not yet satiated; the tragedy so far was incomplete. It was on the 24th of November, 1781, that he himself fell beneath the ruthless murderer's hand, and the blow this time came from a source where he thought himself secure. On the day above mentioned, he went to Elizabethtown Point, for a Miss Murray, who had come from New York, under a flag of truce. After conducting her to his gig, he returned to the boat, to obtain a bundle which had been left behind. As he came on shore, the American sentinel challenged him, and demanded what "contraband goods" he had there. Mr. Caldwell stepped forward to tender the bundle to the proper officer, not wishing to enter into a dispute about it then, when the report of a musket was heard, and he fell dead, pierced by two balls. He had been shot by a man named Morgan, who had just been relieved from duty as a sentinel. He was arrested, tried, condemned, and was executed. There can be no doubt but that he was bribed to the deed by British gold, as there was no shadow of a cause to suppose that enmity existed between Mr. Caldwell and him.
Viewed from any point, these two murders were among the most atrocious acts perpetrated by the invaders of our country, and, in a history full of atrocities, they will always rank as bloody, fiendish and treacherous.
THE LEAP FOR LIFE.
At the siege of Fort Henry, near Wheeling, by a band of Indians, under the infamous Simon Girty, Major Samuel McCullough performed an act of daring—nay, desperate horsemanship, which has seldom, if ever, been equalled by man or beast, and before which the effort of the Pomfret hero pales into insignificance. Let us turn to the record.