'TIS not strange that reports various and con­tradictory should have circulated on so inter­esting and terribl [...] a subject as that of a man's con­signing to the grave himself and family in a [...]oment of apparent ease and tranquility. The agitation of mind which must be the consequence of being near such a scene of horror, will sufficiently apologize for not answering your request for the particulars e'er this. Our ignorance of the history of this man at fi [...]st precluded a possibility of giving you satisfaction on this head. Perhaps no one in this town had more favorable opportunities of obtaining the particulars of his history: y [...]t, could never induce him to men­tion a single s [...]llable relating to his age, parentage, or early occupation. To have asked him directly would have been rude when he evidently meant to be silent on these subjects. My conjecture was that he was the natural son of some gentleman in [Page 6] England, and that he had been brought up in or near London, and had been about the Court. Since his decease have been able to learn from undoubted authority, that he was born in the county of Essex, in a village not far from London. As to his busi­ness in youth am still left in the dark, but find he has once mentioned to a gentleman, some little inci­dents which happened to him while in company with his father, and that he very early became acquainted with a club in London who were Deists, where 'tis probable he received the first rudiments in those prin­ciples. While in England, where he left a mother and sister, he had a fair character for integrity and honesty. In the year 1755 he went out to the Island of Bar [...]adoes, in the family of Charles Pinfold, Esq Governor of that Island, where he tarried six years, the [...] returned to England, purchased some merchan­dize, and from thence came to New-York in the year 1762, and immediately removed to Stratford in this State, from thence to Darby, and then to Fairfield, where he married & dwelt some years.—By this time he had acquired about twelve hundred pounds property, with which he removed to this town, about ten years since, where he resided until his death. His business was that of retailing, he formerly credited his goods, but since his residence in this town he has refused to give any credit, intending to keep his property with­in his own reach, believing it always secure while his eye was upon it. While here he added considerable to his stock, none of which he ever vested in real e­state; the Continental currency taught him that wealth could take to itself wings and fly away: Not­withstanding all his vigilance.

[Page 7] When the war commenced he had on hand a very handsome assortment of goods for a country store, [...]hich he sold for the currency of the country, with­ [...]ut any advance in the price; the money he laid by, waiting and expecting the time would soon arrive when he might therewith replace his goods, resolv­ing not to part with it until it should be in as good demand as when received by him. His expectations from this quarter daily lessening, finally lost all hope, and was thrown into a state little better than dispair, as appears from his writings; he adopted a plan of the most rigid family oeconomy, but still kept up the outward appearance of his former affluence, and ever to the last entertained his friend with his usual decent hospitality, although nothing appeared in his outward deportment, which evinced the uncommon pride of his heart; his writtings shew clearly that he was de­termined not to bear the mortification of being thought by his friends poor and dependent. On this subject he expresses himself in the following extraordinary manner: "If a man, who has once lived well, meant well and done well, falls by unavoidable accident in­to poverty, and then submits to be laughed at, de­spised and trampled on, by a set of mean wretches as far below him as the moon is below the sun; I say, if such a man submits, he must become meaner than meanness itself, and I sincerely wish he might have ten years added to his natural life to punish him for his folly."

He fixed upon the night succeeding the 18th of November for the execution of his nefarious purpose, and procured a supper of oysters, of which the fami­ly eat very plentifully; that evening he writes as fol­lows: [Page 8] "I have prepared a noble supper of o [...]sters, that my flock and I may eat and drink together, thank God and die." After supper he sent the ma [...]d with a studied errand to a friend's house at some distance, directing her to stay until she obtained an answer to an insignificant letter he wrote his friend, intending she should not return that evening—she did howe­ver return, perhaps her return disconcerted him and prevented him for that time. The next day he car­ried his pistols to a smith for repair; it may be, the ill condition of his pistols might be an additional rea­son for the delay.

On the evening of the 10th of December some per­sons were with him at his house, to whom he ap­peared as chearful and se [...]ene as usual; he attend­ed to the little affairs of his family as if nothing un­common was in contemplation. The company left him about nine o'clock in the evening, when he was urgent as usual for their stay; whether he slept that night is uncertain, but it is believed he went to bed. The children and maid slept in one chamber; in the grey of the morning of the 11th of December he went to their bed chamber, awaked the maid and ordered her to arise gently without disturbing the children; when she came down stairs he gave her a line to the family physician, who lived at the distance of a quarter of a mi [...]e, ordered her to carry it imme­diately, at the same time declaring that Mrs. Beadle had been ill all night, and directing her to stay until the physician should come with her; this he repeat­ed sundry times with a degree of ardor. There is much reason to believe he had murdered Mrs. Beadle be­fore he awaked the maid. Upon the maid's leaving [Page 9] the house he immediately proceeded to execute his purpose on the children and himself. It appears he had for some time before, carried to his be [...] side e­very night an ax and a carving knife; he smote his wife and each of the children with the ax on the side of the head as they lay sleeping in their beds; the wo­man had two wounds in the head, the scull of each of them was fractured; he then with the carving knife cut their throats from ear to ear; the w [...]man and little boy were drawn partly over the side of their beds, as if to prevent the bedding from being besmear­ed with blood▪ the three daughters were taken from the bed and laid upon the floor side by side, like three lambs, before their throats were cu [...]; they were co­vered with a blanket, and the woman's face with an handkerchief. He then proceeded to the lower floor of the house, leaving marks of his footsteps in blood on the stairs, carrying with him the ax and knife▪ the latter he laid upon the table in the room where he was found, reeking with the blood of his family. Perhaps he had thoughts he might use it against him­self if his pistols should fail; it appears he then seated himself in a Windsor chair, with his arms supported by the arms of the chair; he fixed the muzles of the pistols into his two ears and fired them at the same instant: The balls went through the head in trans­verse directions. Although the neighbours were ve­ry near and some of them awake, none hea [...]d the report of the pistols. The capital facts of the massa­cre you have seen in the public papers; a minu [...]e de­tail was too horrible to be [...]iven at first, until the mind (especially of the relatives of the unhappy wo­man) had been prepared by a summary narrative, [Page 10] and even now 'tis enough to give feelings to apathy itself, to relate the horrid tale.

The line to the physician obscurely announced the intentions of the man; the house was soon opened, but alas too late! The bodies were pale and motion­less, swimming in their blood, their faces white as mountain snow, yet life seemed to tremble at their lips; description can do no more than faintly ape and [...]fle with the real figure.

Such a tragical scene filled every mind with the deepest distress; nature recoiled and was on the rack with dis [...]orting passions; the most poignant sorrow and tender pity for the lady and her innocent babes, who were the hapless victims of the brutal, studied cruelty of a husband and father, in whose embraces they expected to find security, melted every heart.—Shocking effects of pride and false notions about re­ligion.

To paint the first transports this affecting scene pro­duced, when the house was opened, is beyond my reach—Multitudes of all ages and sexes were drawn toge [...]her by the sad tale—The very inmost souls of the beholders were wounded at the sight, and torn by contending passions: Silent grief, with marks of [...]s [...]shment, were succeeded by furious indignation against the author of the affecting spectacle, which vented itsel [...] [...] i [...]co [...]erent exclamations.—Some old sol [...]iers accidentally passing through the town that morning, on their way from camp to visit their friends, led by cu [...]i [...]sity turned in, to view the sad remains; on sight of the woman and her tender off­spring, notwithstanding all their firmness, the tender sympathetic tear stealing gently down their s [...]rrowed [Page 11] cheeks, betrayed the anguish of their hearts; on being shewed the body of the sacrificer they paused a moment, then muttering forth an oath or two of execration, with their eyes fixed on the ground in silent sorrow, they slowly went their way. So awful and terrible a disaster wrought wonderfully on the minds of the neighbourhood; nature itself seemed ruffled, and refused the kindly aid of balmy sleep for a time.

Near the close of the day on the 12th of De­cember, the bodies being still unburied, the people, who had collected in great numbers, grew almost frantic wi [...]h rage, and in a manner demanded the bo­dy of the murderer; the law being silent on the subject, it was difficult to determine where decency required the body should be placed, many proposed it should be in an ignominious manner where four roads met, without any coffin or insignia of respect, and perforated by a stake. Upon which a question arose, where that place could be found which might be unexceptionable to the neighbourhood—but no one would consent it should be near his house or land. After some consultation it was thought best to place it on the bank of the river between high and low wa­ter mark; the body was handed out of the window and bound with cords on a sled, with the cloaths on as it was found, and the bloody knife tied on his breast, without coffin or box, and the horse he usua­ly rode was made fast to the fled—the horse, unac­customed to the draught, proceeded with great un­steadiness, sometimes running full speed, then stop­ping, followed by a multitude, until arriving at the water's edge, the body was tumbled into a hole dug for the purpose, like the carcase of a beast. Not [Page 12] many days after there appeared an uneasiness in sun­dr [...] persons at placing the body so near a ferry much frequented; so [...]e threatnings were given out that the body should be [...] and a second time exposed to view. It was thought pru [...] [...] should be [...], and s [...]cretly deposited in some obscur [...] spot, it was accordingly removed with the utmost sec [...]cy; not­withstandi [...]g which some children accidentally disco­vered the place, and the early freshes partly washed up the body, and it has had a second remove to a place where it is hoped mankind will have no further vexation with it.

On the 13th of December the bodies of the mur­dered were interred in a manner much unlike that of the unnatural murderer.—The remains of the chil­dren were borne by a suitable numb [...]r of equal age, attended with a sad procession of youths of the town, all bathed in tears; side by side the hapless woman's corpse was carried in solemn procession to the parish church yard, followed by a great concourse, who with affectiona [...]e concern and every token of respect were anxious to express their heart felt sorrows in performing the last mournful duties.

The person of Mr. Beadle was small, his features striking and full of expression, with the as [...]ect of fierceness and determination; his mind was contem­plative, when once he had formed an opinion, was remarkably tenacious; as a merchant or trader, he was esteemed a man of strict honor and integrity, and would not descend to any low or mean artifice to advance his fortune. He was turned of 52 years of age when he died.

Mrs. Bea [...]le was born at Plymouh, in Massachu­setts, of reputable parents—a comely person, of good [Page 13] address, well bred, unusually serene, sincere, unaffect­ed and sensible; died in the middle of life, aged 32 years.

The children (the eldest of which was a son, aged 12 years the other three, daughters, the youngest aged 6 years) were such as cheared the hearts of their parents, who w [...] uncommonly fond of displaying their virtues and e [...]lencies, and seemed to antici­pate a continuance of growing parental satisfaction; alas! like early tender [...]uds nipped by untimely frosts, they did but begin to live!

It is more than probable, this man had for months past desired that some or all of his children might be taken out of the world by accident; he removed all means of security from a well near his house, which he was careful heretofore to keep covered. His lit­tle boy he often sent to swim in the river, and has been heard to chide the child for not venturing fur­ther into deep wa [...]er than his fears would suffer him. H [...] at times declared it would give him no pain or uneasiness to follow his children to the grave—his ac­quaintance knew these expressions could not arise from want of affection or tenderness for his children, but rather ima [...]ined him speaking rashly in jest.

He ever spoke lightly of death as a bugbear the world causelessly feared. It appears from his writings, he at first had doubts whether it was just and reasonable for him to deprive his wife of life, and offers against it, only this reason, that he had no hand in bringing her into existence and consequently had no power over her life.—She set out about the first of November on a journey to Fairfield, which he thought was by direction of Heaven to clear him of his doubts and remove her out of the way, at the time the busi­ness was to be done; and his intention was to have execu­ted his design on himself and children in her absence. She [Page 14] proceeded no further than New-Haven, and by reason of some disappointment, returned ten days ea [...]lier than ex­pected; he appeared chag [...]in'd at he [...] early return, and soon began to invent some justifying reasons for depriving her of life also. He finally concludes it would be unmer­ciful to leave her behind to languish out a [...]ise in misery and wretchedness, which must be the consequence of the surprizing death of the rest of the family, and that since they had shared the frowns and smiles of fortune together, it would be cruelty to her, to be divided from them in death.

'Tis very na [...]ural for you to ask, whether it was possible a man could be transformed from an affectionate husband and an indu [...]gent paren [...] to a s [...]cret murderer, without some previ [...]us alteration, which must have been noticed by the family or acquaintance? Yet this was the case in this in­stance, there was no visible alteration in his conduct. It appears by his writing that he thought he had a right to deprive himself of life, and intended to exercise that right if ever he should think himself unfortunate, the exten [...]i [...]n of this right to his children, was very easy. 'Tis proba­ble, the principle had grown up gradually to the last st [...]ge. Since his death I have seen a letter he wrote to a friend as early as 1777, in which he has an expression like this—"I believe I and my family shall not live to see the end of the war."—It was then understood to mean nothing more than his expectation, the war would continue a long time, his late conduct has explained it very differ­ently.—Whether Mrs. Beadle had any fears of his evil in­tentions or not, is uncertain, that she had [...]ears some great cal [...]mity would bef [...]l the family, is evident, both from what she said, and what he has le [...]t in writing.—He writes on the 18th of November, that on the morning of the 17th she told him, "She dreamed he had wrote many papers, and was earnestly concerned [...]o [...] her, and that those papers were spotted with blood; and that she also saw a m [...]n wound himself past recovery and blood guggle (as she expressed i [...]) from different parts of his body."—In ano­ther letter, of a l [...]ter date, he writes as follows, viz. "I mentioned before that my wife had a dream concern­ing this affair, [...] since had two more, one of them, [Page 15] That she was suddenly seized and liable to great punish­ment, that it created great confusion, but she afterwards got free and was happy; from her excellence of heart, I have no doubt but what this will be the case with her.—On the thanksgiving night she dreamed, that her three daughters all lay dead, and that they even froze in that situation, and even yet I am little affected."^*

The afternoon before this terrible execution, Mrs. Beadle walked a broad to visit an acquaintance, and it was observ­ed by the lady, she was uncommonly pensive; she asked the reason, Mrs. Beadle with much concern told her, "She had for months been troubled with frightful and uncommon dreams, and that very morning she dreamed violence had been offered her family and her children destroyed; she said those dreams wrought on her mind in a very great de­gree, to divert her thoughts from them she had walk'd a­broad that afternoon; and that she verily believed Pro­vidence had judgments in store for their family, which he was about to inflict on them by some sweeping sickness, or in some other awful manner."—Mr. Beadle, who, as ap­pears by his writings, was alone privy to his malevolent intentions, put a very different construction upon her dreams. He doubtless considered them as premonitions from Heaven, and convincing proof to him that his purpose was right, of which he says he had sundry intimations he really thought from God himself, which he does not de­scribe.

From whence those dreams originated it is impossible to determine, whether the weapons he carried to his bed side gave her uneasiness and excited a jealousy in her mind of his intentions, or whether any of his conduct which fell under her observations might be alarming to her which might trouble her sleep, no one can tell. She has lately [Page 16] mentioned sundry dreams of a similar nature, which she had near six months since. Some great and good characters have thought such intimations were at times given from on high, to convince mankind of the reality of the invisible world—to hazard such a conjecture in these modern days would perhap [...] be thought by the learned world a great mark of fanaticism—every man must think for himself, no one can pronounce with satisfactory certainty with respect to the origin and cause of such thoughts in sleep, which so nearly correspond with the true state of facts. Her last dream penned by him was nearly literally verified. Although the weather was serene and pleasant on the 10th, and near full moon: Nei­ther the sun or moon were visible from the time this horrid deed was done, until the body of this man was laid be­neath the clods, which redoubled the horror: When sud­denly the wind blew from the northwest, dispelled the va­pours and discovered a cloudless sky. The air grew cold, and the faces of the other five being opened to view in their coffins, in the front of the meeting-house, the con­course was so great that much time was spent to give op­portunity for all to take a view; the cold still increasing, the bodies in all probability were stifned with frost.

Mr. Beadle lest sundry letters directed to his acquaint­ance, and one laboured treatise in justification of his con­duct; they contain many inconsistencies. He professes himself a Deist, but reprobates Atheism. While in life and prosperity he claim'd to be a Christian, and offered two of his children in baptism. Much has been said in fa­vour of publishing his writings by those who have not seen them; those who have perused them have doubted the pro­priet [...] of such a measure; not because his reasonings a­gainst revelation were in any degree unanswerable, but lest they might have some effect on weak and melancholy minds. He attempts to attack all rulers in Church and State, treats the Christian religion with a great degree of bitterness and bigotry; and yet absurdly concludes by saying, "if it is true he shall be saved by it."—He is [...]ery unsettled, wavering and inconsistent in his own beloved system of Deism. He flatters his pride by believing it was the height of h [...]roism to dare to die by his own hands, and that the Deity would not willingly punish one, who was [Page 16] impatient to visit his God and learn his will from his own mouth, face to face in some future world, or worlds (which he thinks may be many) and seems to think there is as great probability of succeeding advantageously, in remov­ing from one world to another as from one country, or cal­ling to another; and seeing all men must be lugged off at last (as he expresses it) he was determined to make the experiment voluntarily which all must do through necessi­ty. As he was much out of temper with the world, he was unwilling any of his family should stay behind to encoun­ter its troubles, and since 'tis a father's duty to provide for his flock, he chose to consign them over to better hands.

'Tis doubtful whether any history of modern times can afford an instance of similar barbarity, even in the ex­treme distress of war. The ancients encouraged by num­bers and example, did in hours of despair destroy them­selves and families, to avoid the shame of becoming cap­tives to be led in triumph, and the cruelty commonly exercised in those barbarous ages.

By this time your curiosity itself will be pleased to find me subscribing myself,