FA-2025-11

Canterbury Tales: “BATTLEFIELDS and HOMEFRONT”

Six spirits of Canterbury residents rose from their graves recently to remind present-day townspeople of the sacrifices and service of their ancestors during the American Revolution, which began 250 years ago this year.

The Canterbury Tales “BATTLEFRONTS and HOMEFRONT” presentations that attracted 135 spectators to Town Hall and the Center Cemetery told of residents who took up arms to fight for independence and of those they left behind.

Here are their stories, written by event organizers Diane Modugno and Debbie Allen. Photos by Paul Lepesqueur.

Here are the spirits who came to life for the 2025 Canterbury Tales program to benefit the Canterbury Cemetery Association. Photo by Paul Lepesqueur.
Left to Right:
Beth Blair as Jemima Morrill
David Tirrell-Wysocki as Capt. Jeremiah Clough
Lucyann Zeller as Margaret Sutton
Fred Brewster as George Shannon
Hannah McCauley as Sally Forrest Gilman
Russel Field as Asa Foster

CAPT. JEREMIAH CLOUGH

Well, my goodness but it’s good to be back in Canterbury Center. And how my beloved town has grown! Things definitely look different than I remember, though I do recognize a few of the buildings over yonder.

Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Capt. Jeremiah Clough, and in 1736, I was the first white male born in this town. My father also was named Jeremiah – though most people simply called him Colonel. He was Canterbury’s first settler and later commander of the Canterbury Fort near the end of Center Road. So our Canterbury roots are deep.

Do I understand that you are celebrating the 250^th anniversary of the start of our War for Independence? My! Does that mean that the year is now 2025? Oh my! I cannot begin to wrap my head around that and fathom the years that have passed since I traveled these roads.

You may wonder why I traveled here tonight. As part of those festivities, I was asked if I might mention my patriotic endeavors during our struggle for independence and I proudly agreed to do so.

Immediately after the Battles of Lexington and Concord in 1775, I was appointed a captain in the Continental Army to raise one of ten companies that formed the 2^nd NH Regiment. Canterbury provided more than the 20 men requested and they were under my command.

You might recognize some surnames who served with me, such as Glines, Morrill, Forrest, Heath and Foster. Brothers and cousins enlisted together and joined others who already had stepped forward, including Nathaniel Pallet, Samson Battis and George Shannon, and many more. You’ll hear from poor George in a bit.

For seven months my company was stationed at Winter Hill just outside Boston. Then in 1776, my company was sent to Canada for 12 miserable months on the ill-fated trek to Quebec under then-Colonel Benedict Arnold. To call the mission ill-fated is a compliment. It was a disaster! You’ll hear more of that tonight.

After the debacle in Quebec, I returned to Canterbury to recover. At that time, I and three other men were accused by men in Boscawen of being Tories! Imagine me, a patriot, a captain in the Continental Army, accused of supporting the King? In June, 1777, we were arrested and jailed at Exeter until October, when I was completely vindicated.

This sad period all stemmed from my relationship with Dr. Philip Carrigan of Rumford, what you now call Concord. Philip was falsely accused of disloyalty by the tongues of malicious persons. Philip had married a cousin of mine, so he was family. And, of course, we permitted him to hide in my hay row and furnished him with food. An unfortunate and sad time indeed.

My civic duties did not end with the war. I was a member of the Constitutional Convention in 1781 and in 1788, when New Hampshire ratified the United States constitution. I was in the NH Legislature, a justice of the peace, and a selectman in Canterbury for several years. I also proudly achieved the rank of Lt. Colonel in the state militia.

It is said that I was one of the wealthiest and most respected farmers in this state, and my extensive apple orchard was probably the largest in the country. In my 82 years, I was married twice and had five loving children.

You know, folks said I retained my senses to the last. I have to agree! The last came for me in 1819, when I died and was buried on my farm on Pillsbury Hill. You can visit me there. Just make your way along Center Road almost to the corner of Route 132, which we called Northwest Road back in the day. You’ll find a handsome headstone there on the north side of the road that the townspeople erected in my honor. For that, I am grateful – you might say eternally grateful.

My fellow patriots, the fact that you are celebrating the 250^th anniversary of the start of our dear United States of America tells me that our sacrifices were all worth it. I am proud of my service and would do it again without hesitation.

Thank you for listening, please come visit me and have a pleasant evening.

GEORGE SHANNON

Good evening fellow patriots! Welcome! My, but it’s good to see my dear Canterbury after so many years! It’s looking good, isn’t it? Does my heart good to see it again.

I hear you’re listening to tales of our War for Independence from British rule and the hated King George III. Well, I’m afraid to say that I can contribute but little of my short time in the army, as I was killed at Bunker Hill. But I’m glad to do what I can to help, as I was glad to do what I could then.

I was part of the NH 1^st Regiment under the command of Colonel John Stark. We marched from Concord and assembled in Medford, MA. In addition to myself, there were about 26 fellow Canterburians there on that momentous day.

We had gotten new intelligence that the British army had plans to occupy the Charlestown Heights across the Charles River from Boston. By sunrise on June 17, we were in a solid defensive position and ready. 500 of us protected the left flank and countered two British charges before running out of ammunition and had to orderly retreat.

I am proud to say that the British suffered over 1,000 casualties, more than twice our casualties, but unfortunately, myself and 32 other NH patriots were killed that day on Bunker Hill.

They took me to the Salem Street Burying Ground back in Medford, and I am grateful to be listed on the memorial erected at the Bunker Hill Training Field in Boston.

I was 32 years of age when I left my dear wife, Mercy, and our six-year-old son, but we both knew that it was time for good men to come to the aid of their country, and I was proud to do so. And I was, of course, saddened further by not returning home, but my heart is lightened to know that my fellow Canterbury neighbors and friends looked out for my dear family at my farm near Ayers Road and Borough Road in my absence.

Oh! I heard some very interesting news recently that hopefully you can enlighten me on the truth. Do I understand that this past Memorial Day, which is a holiday that you celebrate now honoring patriots who have fallen like me, the town came together in donations and spirit to erect a monument in my favor? Is that true?

Well, I confess that I am at a loss for words at hearing that. And I am at a loss to express my gladness on hearing that we persevered against all odds and won against tyranny and are now called the United States of America. It seems our little experiment actually came forth and has blossomed. My, my. Nice to know that my death on that hill so many years ago was not in vain.

Well, I’m sorry I can only tell you about that one battle, but thank you for coming tonight – and thank you for the monument! Watch your step.

JEMIMA MORRILL

My name is Jemima Morrill. My husband was Deacon Ezekiel Morrill, the pioneer Morrill in Canterbury. In 1743, he bought two and a half lots which included this resting place and the parsonage lot, and a couple years later he bought an additional lot. We moved to Canterbury in the spring of 1750.

Well, we had 15 children, and the last four were born in Canterbury. Please don’t ask me to name them all…Oh, OK, I will. Four of my children did not live to adulthood: Abigail passed at one year, Ezekiel at about a year, Susanna at two, and I had one stillborn baby. But my second Abigail, David, Ruben, Elizabeth, Laban, Susanna, Mary, my second Ezekiel, Masten, Sargent, Abraham and Susanna all survived.

I’m extremely proud of my children. Sadly, Ruben was killed by a tree in 1764. He was only 26 years old. Our remaining six sons ALL served in the Revolutionary War and I’m told they all survived. I died in 1775, just as the war was getting started, so… there’s that.

Abraham, Ezekiel and Laban were at Bennington, and David and Masten were at Saratoga. Masten was also with Capt. Clough in Canada. Laban was a lieutenant with Colonel Stickney and was at Ticonderoga, too. Sargent was in NY State.

The Continental Congress recommended the disarming of all persons not supporting the cause of the American colonies against the hostile attempts of the British. The Provincial Congress of New Hampshire requested towns to secure the signatures of all of their male inhabitants above 21 years of age, lunatics, idiots and Negroes excepted, to an association test,(basically a signed promise) which said “We, the subscribers do hereby solemnly engage and promise that we will to the utmost of our power, at the risk of our lives and fortunes, with arms oppose the hostile proceedings of the British fleets and armies against the united American colonies.” There were 197 signatures from Canterbury and Loudon, including all six of my sons!

I’m also told that six of my children settled in Canterbury, three of my sons, David, Laban and Maston, and three of my daughters, Abigail, Elizabeth and Susanna. We have a large presence in this cemetery, 66 named Morrills and countless other relatives.

But I was asked to speak tonight about the train band and the alarm list which are both components of the colonial militia system and played a critical role in the colonial defense. The train band was composed of able-bodied men that had their own instruments, you know, drums, flutes, spoons… I kid! Seriously, the train band was composed of able-bodied men, usually between 16 and 50. They were required to train regularly, probably six days a year, and to keep themselves equipped with arms and accoutrements. They were the primary defense force for the community and as a pool of men from whom soldiers could be drafted for extended service during wartime.

The alarm list was a supplemental force, consisting of men not included in the train bands. Generally, they were aged 16 to 65 years and they were required to provide their own arms and serve when an alarm was sounding, meaning they were called out only in response to emergencies.

Although Canterbury didn’t have an occasion to call out the militia, lots of other colonial towns did, famously Lexington, Mass. The Revolutionary War started with the Battle of Lexington and the Siege of Boston on April 19, 1775. When the patriots in Boston saw that the British force of 700 men had set out on the night of April 18, 1775, two messengers, Paul Revere and William Dawes, galloped to spread the alarm. I’m sure you all know the tale of Paul Revere‘s midnight ride!

Well, my time on this side is almost up, so I’ll bid you farewell. But before I go, I encourage you all to check out the history of your own town and community! You might be surprised at what you can…dig up!

ASA FOSTER

Hello and welcome! Good to see everyone tonight – and good to be seen!

It makes my heart glad to see that you’re hearing about some of our adventures and sacrifices in the Continental Army 249 years ago.

My name is Asa Foster, and I was born in 1765. That made me 15 years old in 1780, and I was then old enough to enlist and serve until the end of the war in 1781.

Well, don’t ya know that they sent me to West Point of all places. Little did I know that I would be part of a major historic event. See, that put me under the command of General Benedict Arnold, and I actually ended up on his staff and was his bodyguard for a while. Fifteen years old and General Arnold’s bodyguard. Really?

Well, you know what happened. I actually witnessed Arnold’s escape to the British ship “Vulture” and saw the aftermath of that whole treasonous episode. General Washington was there too! Glad to say it ended the way it did and West Point was saved. Hallelujah.

I survived the war and served many years as a colonel in the NH militia, although I have to say I was a strong abolitionist and believed that war was un-Christian. I lived here in Canterbury and married my sweetheart, Sarah Morrill, and together we had 12 children.

Can you believe that I lived to be 96 years old! And can you believe that my beloved wife of 70 years survived me at age 90? Good genes, huh? That was in 1861, just after Fort Sumter fell. And I was heard to say that if I was younger, I would shoulder my musket and again march to the defense of my country!

I am proud of all my children, but I will quickly mention my daughter Caroline Morrill Foster because I am especially proud of her. You see, we raised all our children to be abolitionists, and she had strong anti-slavery views which ostracized her from her neighbors at times. But she was brave. She was also an early worker in the women’s suffrage movement for the vote. As you can tell, she spoke her mind. She was also a proud member of the Daughters of the American Revolution.

Dear Caroline never married, but she was well educated and taught school her in NH and Erie, PA, before she returned to Canterbury to care for Sarah and me in our old age, God bless her.

She died in 1910 at the age of – wait for it – 94! Told ya, good genes. She’s buried right over there next to me, my children and relatives. Yup, there’s a whole group of us.

I love the fact that I was laid to rest here in Canterbury, and hope you have the good fortune to do the same. Until then, God Bless America! Good-night!

MARGARET SUTTON

Well, good evening everyone! I must say I’m quite surprised to see so many of my neighbors. When I was “summoned forth” about speaking tonight, I thought, “Who wants to hear about the life of a Canterbury widow?” This turnout is a nice surprise.

My name is Margaret Sutton, but I’m listed as the widow Sutton in all the town records because women weren’t independent creatures in the 1700s.

My family moved to Canterbury in 1774, shortly before the death of my husband, Michael. We had six children — five sons and one daughter. All but one of my sons survived into adulthood. My Edmund was married and gave me a grandson before his passing just before turning 17, and my little Mary died at about four months old.

The year after our arrival, the Big War, which you refer to as the War for Independence, broke out. The government required 20 men to serve from Canterbury, which included Loudon and Northfield at the time. Well, 31 men stepped up, including three of my boys, as well as a lot of our neighbors. My son Solomon was not yet old enough to enlist, or I know he would have.

Stephen, John, and Michael fought in the fight for liberty in many places, including the Battle of Bennington.

And thanks be to God, all three of my sons returned home. But not every family was as blessed. Look at George Shannon’s wife and son. Six other Canterbury families also felt the bitter sting of war.

When all of the men were away, life had to go on here in Canterbury and across the country! Neighbors helped neighbors and women learned new skills, like plowing the fields and picking crops, milking the cows. And so did the young‘uns! But other women took part in the war, too.

We were nurses for the Army, taking care of the sick and wounded, as well as assisting the doctors. This was dangerous work because they were constantly exposed to the many diseases that were common in army hospitals. Their duties included feeding, bathing, cleaning and administering basic medical care, as well as offering comfort and support to the soldiers. They helped write letters back home and read the letters they received. Their role was critical in maintaining the health and morale of the troops.

Women were also spies. Officers from both sides tended to talk freely around women, believing that we wouldn’t understand military terms and strategy. This made brave women very powerful spies who could gather top-level information. One of them was Lydia Darragh, who acted as a spy when she overheard some British officers discussing a pending attack on the Continental Army. She got a message to an American soldier and because of her, George Washington was ready for the British when they arrived.

We were also camp followers, women who would follow the Army camp and help take care of the soldiers — mending clothes, cooking meals and cleaning up the camp. Abigail Adams, wife of John Adams, advised her husband through letters and lived close to the fighting. At one point, she melted down much of her own silver and steel to make musket balls for the troops.

Women, of course, couldn’t serve as soldiers, but that didn’t stop some women from fighting. They disguised themselves as men and used fake names when enlisting. Some women served for quite a long time before being discovered. The most famous was probably Deborah Sampson. She disguised herself as a man and enlisted in the Continental Army in Massachusetts under the name of Robert Shirtliff. She fought in several battles and in July of 1782, she was shot in the thigh and sustained a sword cut to her forehead. She was taken to a hospital against her will and her head wound was treated, but she managed to leave the hospital before her thigh wound could be tended to and her gender discovered. She removed the ball herself with a penknife and a sewing needle, but some of the shot was too deep to reach and her leg never fully healed. She was in uniform for 17 months before she was discovered to be a woman and discharged.

NOW, I am a very proud mother for the service and sacrifice of my sons and all the other men who fought for our country, but I do wish that more women got the recognition they deserved for the significant contributions and sacrifices we made for our country.

Thank you for listening to an old woman ramble on. I bid you a good night.

SALLY FORREST GILMAN

Good evening kind folks!

My name is Sally Forrest Gilman, and I am very proud to talk to you tonight about my father, William Forrest.

My grandparents, William and Dubia, came to this country from Ireland in 1744 and lived in Boston, but papa was born in the Old Fort that used to be over there at the corner of Center Road and Route 132, where Canterbury ended and the wilderness began. Actually, it’s quite built up here now, isn’t it? I don’t recognize much, except I guess that’s the road that used to go to the fort.

Where was I? Oh, yes. In 1774 my father began a little settlement in the part of Canterbury that’s now called Northfield, just over yonder. He cleared a few acres, and the year following, put it into grain. Then his father had to leave for Bunker Hill with others from Canterbury, including several cousins and uncles, like my Uncle John and Uncle Robert and Uncle Jeremiah Gibson, to fight the battles of our country.

My father was 22 years old. After he enlisted, he was part of the Quebec force led by Colonel Benedict Arnold. They were 1,100 men strong, but by the time they reached the St. Lawrence River, there were only 600 sick and malnourished men left. My father would tell stories of the most frightful obstacles of starving while fording ice-cold streams and impenetrable swamps while many of the men were barefoot and their clothes threadbare.

Most of them were killed, captured, or wounded, but God saved my father and he was one of the few who survived. He suffered much from sickness and wounds, but after recuperating took part in the battles of Bennington, Stillwater and the Rhode Island Expedition before returning home for good, where he was at last able to take up his life’s work, farming. Papa was so proud to say that for 60 years he planted his own corn!

Well, he married my dear mother, Dorothy, right after the war, in 1782, and built a log cabin near the shore of the pond which I understand today still bears my family name. Would you believe they raised 12 children in the cabin?

Oh, yes. My uncle John, who was called “Soldier John,” lost his leg in the war. He would go house to house here in town and cobble shoes or run pewter spoons.

My father was a firm Democrat, and all of his sons and grandsons followed his example. He was never absent but once from the annual election. Would you like me to describe my father to you? Let’s see. Well, he acquired abundant property, yet was benevolent. He was industrious, honest, strong in fraternal affection and had great fortitude and fixedness of purpose. He was a supporter of the church, though not a member, and left good evidence of his faith in the Redeemer.

My dear father died with less than an hour’s sickness at age 87, having 14 children, 41 grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren. Even now, I am so proud of Papa not only for his service to our beloved country, but for the man and father he was to all of us, and I am pleased to have spoken with you all this evening.

Good night now!