With Ethan Allen at Ticonderoga

by W. Bert Foster

CHAPTER XVI
THE WESTMINSTER MASSACRE

What March 5, 1770, had been to the people of Boston and the Colony of Massachusetts, March 14, 1775, was destined to become to the patriot citizens of Vermont. That date reminds them to-day of the first blood shed in the great struggle within the borders of the Grants–the first pitched battle between American yeomanry and the minions of a cruel and tyrannical king. Before the martyrs were shot down at Lexington was the Westminster Massacre–an incident which set the torch to the passions of the Whigs throughout the Grants.

Despite the efforts of Judge Chandler, who really was honestly bent on peace, the associate Judge Sabin and the fire-eating sheriff brought about that clash of arms, the stain of which was to be wiped out by nearly eight years of bitter war. The Tory officials and their henchmen gathered about the court-house when it was known that the Whigs had seized it, and threatened an attack early in the evening of the 13th; but apparently willing to abide by the decision of the chief justice, they dispersed after that worthy had promised the Whigs that nothing should be done to oust them from the premises until the following day. Chandler doubtless went to his repose, believing that his partisans would uphold him in his promise.

But the sheriff had other views. He had gathered a noble army at John Norton’s inn. There were no Whigs there that night. They sought other houses of entertainment, or their own homes, for their leaders had counseled moderation. But the wily sheriff finally gave his orders, and those orders were inspired by Judge Sabin and other rank Tories. Separating as they issued from the inn into three bodies, the sheriff’s men approached the guarded court-house from as many directions and were thundering at the doors before the Whigs were aware that such treachery was intended. There was not a fire-arm in the court-house, but when called upon to surrender the guard refused and strove to barricade the entrance.

Although the young men had expected nothing like this, they had not taken their duty lightly. They were of the best Whig families of the neighborhood and had not accepted the responsibility as a lark. Enoch became acquainted with one of his companions early in the evening who, because of his open face, free and gentle manner, and earnest conversation impressed the Bennington boy as being a youth of better parts than were most of the backwoods people. Lot told his guest that this individual was William French, the son of a Mr. Nathaniel French, a man well known and respected highly by his neighbors. Like Lot, young French was deeply interested in the affairs of the colonies, especially in what was occurring in and about Boston. He had planned to go to the Massachusetts colony and offer his services to the Committee of Safety there if war really became imminent, though he would go, Enoch saw, in a much different spirit from Lot’s. Lot was eager for a fight for the fight’s sake; but French realized the root of the trouble and espoused the cause of the persecuted colonists from principle.

It was eleven o’clock at night when the sheriff and his men attacked the Whig guards, and many of the latter were asleep. The uproar was great as the besieged tried to keep the Tories out of the building; but the latter were reckless and knew that they had to do with a practically helpless enemy. They forced an entrance, though the Whigs rallied well and delivered some telling blows with their clubs. These blows doubtless had much to do with what followed, for the sheriff’s men became greatly incensed. All the lights in the house were put out and for several moments the antagonists fought in the dark. Enoch was not behind in the battle and was one of those in the front rank which strove to beat the sheriff’s men back to the door. William French fought next him, while he could hear his friend Lot shouting encouragement not far away.

The Tories were under a disadvantage in the dark and some of those still without ran with torches and thrust them in, that the battleground might be illumined. At that the sheriff, spurred by rage and the smart of a blow he had received, cried to his men: “Fire! Fire at the rascals who defy the law’s authority!”

Some of his men took him at his word and putting their pieces to their shoulders, they had been using them as clubs, shot blank-point into the group of opposing Whigs!

It was a terrible scene that followed. Several men fell about Enoch, and groans and cries rose from the wounded. A bullet had sent Enoch’s cap spinning into the air, but he did not notice that. Young William French had fallen beside him and the Bennington boy stooped and caught the young man’s head and shoulders from the floor that he might not be trampled upon.

Shouts and imprecations deafened him. The Whigs still fought, but some had already tried to escape by a side passage and were being brought back by the sheriff’s men. That wicked man was calling upon the Whigs to surrender, and more than one shot was fired after that first volley.