The Two Hundredth Anniversary of the Settlement of the Town of New Milford, Conn. June 17th, 1907: Address Delivered by Daniel Davenport, of Bridgeport, Conn

In Short

This work is a historical address delivered in 1907 to commemorate the two-hundredth anniversary of New Milford, Connecticut. It traces the town’s origin from a rugged wilderness frontier in 1707 to its development as an established community. The text moves beyond mere genealogy, detailing the political, religious, and social trials of the early settlers as they navigated hostile Indian wars, territorial legal disputes, and the brutal physical demands of colonial life. It endures as a grounded, unsentimental portrait of the endurance and stubborn industry required to build an American town from the ground up.

The Story

The narrative begins by placing the reader in the year 1707, a time when western Connecticut was a forbidding, swampy wilderness. The author explains that New Milford was born of necessity; the older coastal settlements felt crowded, and the colony needed to expand to secure its inland borders against the constant threat of French and Indian incursions. The early settlers were fully aware of the horrors of frontier warfare, having witnessed or heard reports of massacres in places like Deerfield, Massachusetts. Consequently, life in the early settlement was a state of permanent mobilization. Every man was a soldier, and the village itself functioned as a military outpost where the daily rhythm of farming was conducted under the constant shadow of potential attack.

The story progresses through the logistical mechanics of the town's founding. The land was purchased from the natives, a town plat was laid out with rigid precision, and settlers arrived to build log huts that lacked floors, chimneys, or glass windows. The author highlights the primitive nature of their existence, where survival depended on simple tools, the hunting of game, and the arduous task of clearing land that was initially only partially tamed by Indian fire-burning techniques.

As the settlement gained a precarious footing, the narrative shifts to the internal and external conflicts that defined the town’s growth. The settlers were immediately forced into a protracted legal battle—spanning sixteen trials—over the ownership of their land against previous claimants from Stratford. Central to this legal struggle was John Read, a brilliant and eccentric lawyer who later became a prominent figure in colonial politics. Alongside these secular challenges, the author details the religious life of the town. The people were deeply embedded in a culture of strict Calvinism, grappling with the concepts of predestination and a literal, terrifying devil. The meetinghouse was the center of existence, though it remained unheated, and the congregation’s long, austere services were punctuated by the presence of armed guards.

The closing arc of the address reflects on the transformation of this harsh environment into a stable, prosperous community. The author avoids romanticizing the "good old days," choosing instead to emphasize the raw, grit-filled reality of the pioneers. He notes their stingy avarice, their rudimentary medical practices, and their struggle with malaria. Yet, he concludes by honoring their legacy. The descendants who gathered in 1907 were the beneficiaries of a race that had pushed the frontier westward, fought with both man and beast, and built the enduring institutional bedrock of the state. The narrative ends on a note of continuity, looking forward to future generations who will one day look back at this same history.

How It Unfolds

The frontier reality The author establishes the geographical and political isolation of the 1707 settlement, noting that it was effectively a pinprick of civilization within a vast, dangerous wilderness. He contextualizes the town's birth within the broader conflict between England and France, showing how the settlers were pawns in a global struggle for control of North America.

The struggle for stability The narrative moves to the physical labor of clearing the land and the constant military vigilance required to guard against Indian attacks. It details the daily hardships of a life where food, clothing, and shelter were secured only through relentless, back-breaking toil.

The legal and spiritual battles The account shifts to the sixteen-year court battle over land titles, introducing the formidable John Read as a key protagonist in the struggle for property rights. It then explores the religious climate, where the people lived in fear of eternal damnation and found their only solace in the strict, unyielding structure of the church.

The evolution of a society The final section traces the transition from log-cabin living to the establishment of schools, bridges, and a more ordered, albeit still difficult, social existence. The address concludes with a reflection on the progress of eight generations, acknowledging the immense debt the modern town owes to its tough, land-loving founders.

The People

John Noble and John Bostwick represent the literal foundation of the town; they were the first to arrive and claim their lots on Aspetuck Hill, setting the precedent for the order and discipline that would follow. Their lives were defined by the immediate, desperate need to provide for their families in a landscape that offered nothing but raw materials.

John Read stands as the most intellectually imposing figure. As an attorney, a preacher, and a representative for the colony, he wanted to secure the legal rights of the settlers and, eventually, a place of prominence in New England society. His legal brilliance in the land disputes provided the intellectual framework for the town's survival, and he represents the transition from the simple backwoodsman to the sophisticated colonial administrator.

The Rev. Daniel Boardman served as the spiritual anchor for the settlers. He wanted to bring order to the chaos of the frontier through the establishment of a church, but he faced the challenge of leading a congregation that was as skeptical as it was devout. His struggle to build a permanent meetinghouse mirrors the larger struggle of the town to establish permanent roots in an often hostile environment.

Finally, the unnamed women of the settlement are the unsung heroes. Despite being kept in a state of illiteracy by the period's social norms, they wanted to—and did—provide the moral and social cohesion that prevented the community from sliding into barbarism.

In Its Own Voice

"Every man was a soldier. He was a soldier when he sat at his meals, a soldier when he stood in his door, a soldier when he went to the cornfield, a soldier by day and by night."

This passage describes the constant, exhausting state of alert that characterized the lives of the early settlers on the northwestern frontier.

"Their simple tastes and homely joys amid their rude surroundings were probably more productive of positive pleasure and real happiness, than all the refinement and culture of our twentieth century civilization."

In this reflection, the author argues that the difficulties of the eighteenth century did not necessarily result in a more miserable life than that of his own, more "civilized" era.

What It's Really About

The work is a meditation on the nature of progress and the cost of civilization. It argues that the comfort of the modern world is built entirely upon the "grim, persistent, weary toil" of ancestors who were neither saints nor symbols, but hard-handed people driven by necessity. The underlying question is whether modern society has lost the capacity for true satisfaction in exchange for its relative ease. The author posits that the pioneers’ struggles, while brutal, fostered a degree of social cohesion and genuine happiness that may have been diluted by modern "refinement." It is an inquiry into whether the descendants of such pioneers can truly understand the world that forged their own existence.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in colonial history or the origins of New England life will find this book an invaluable, grounded resource. The author’s style is brisk, precise, and entirely devoid of the flowery, excessive prose often found in commemorative addresses of the early twentieth century. He does not shy away from the darker aspects of the colonial experience, offering candid descriptions of the "stingy avarice," the "frightful dreams" caused by poor diet, and the "bitter hostility" that defined the era.

While the text contains the period-specific attitudes of 1907—particularly in its views on the indigenous population and the "inferiority" of certain social groups—it remains remarkably objective regarding the settlers themselves. You will not find a sanitised, mythic version of the Pilgrims or pioneers here. Instead, you get a visceral, often claustrophobic look at a people who lived in a state of near-permanent anxiety, constantly looking over their shoulders for "the savage in the neighboring thicket." For a reader today, the book offers a challenging reminder of how recently the American frontier was a place of true, unvarnished survival. Its value lies in its refusal to be an apology for the past, serving instead as a cold, clear window into the gritty, desperate, and remarkably productive origins of a New England town.