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The Women of The American Revolution, Vol. 2

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Title: The Women of The American Revolution, Vol. 2

Author: E. F. Ellet

Commentator: Anne Hollingsworth Wharton


        
Release date: July 10, 2015 [eBook #49412]
                Most recently updated: October 24, 2024

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WOMEN OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION, VOL. 2 ***

THE WOMEN OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION

By Elizabeth F. Ellet

With an Introduction by Anne Hollingsworth Wharton

Volume II (of II)

Illustrated

George W. Jacobs & Co.

1900




XXVI. MARTHA WASHINGTON.

[Illustration: 0008]

|None who take an interest in the history of Washington can fail to
desire some knowledge of her who shared his thoughts and plans, and was
associated with him in the great events of his life. Few women have been
called to move, in the drama of existence, amid scenes so varied and
imposing; and few have sustained their part with so much dignity and
discretion. In the shades of retirement, or the splendor of eminent
station, she was the same unostentatious, magnanimous woman; through the
gloom of adverse fortune she walked by the side of the Chief, ascending
with him the difficult path Heaven had opened before him; and when
standing with him on the summit, in the full light of his power and
renown, the eyes of her spirit looked still upward, seeking in the smile
of the Supreme a reward which earthly honors could not bestow.

Though the life of Mrs. Washington was a changeful one, and had its
full measure of sorrow and joy, it affords little material for the
biographer. She moved in woman's domestic sphere, to which pertain not
actions that strike the public eye, but uncomplaining endurance, and
continual, unnoted self-sacrifice. The best account of her is the memoir
prepared for the National Portrait Gallery, by her grandson, George
Washington Parke Custis, of Arlington, D. C. According to this, Martha
Dandridge was descended from an ancient family that migrated to the
colony of Virginia and was born in the county of New Kent, in May, 1732.
Her education was only a domestic one, such as was given to females in
those days, when there were few seminaries of instruction, and private
teachers were generally employed. Her beauty and fascinating manners,
with her amiable qualities of character, gained her distinction among
the ladies who were accustomed to resort to Williamsburg, at that time
the seat of government.

When but seventeen, Miss Dandridge was married to Colonel Daniel
Parke Custis, of the same county. Their residence--called the "White
House,"--was on the banks of the Pamunkey River, where Colonel Custis
became a highly successful planter. None of the children of this
marriage survived the mother; Martha, who arrived at womanhood, died at
Mount Vernon, in 1770; and John perished eleven years later, at the age
of twenty-seven.

Mrs. Custis was early left a widow, in the full bloom of beauty and
"splendidly endowed with worldly benefits." As sole executrix, she
managed with great ability the extensive landed and pecuniary business
of the estate. Surrounded by the advantages of fortune and position, and
possessing such charms of person, it may well be believed that suitors
for her hand and heart were many and pressing.

"It was in 1758," says her biographer, "that an officer, attired in a
military undress, and attended by a body servant, tall and militaire as
his Chief, crossed the ferry called Williams's, over the Pamun-key, a
branch of the York River. On the boat touching the southern, or New Kent
side, the soldier's progress was arrested by one of those personages
who give the beau ideal of the Virginia gentleman of the old regime--the
very soul of kindness and hospitality." He would hear of no excuse on
the officer's part for declining the invitation to stop at his house.
In vain the Colonel pleaded important business at Williamsburg; Mr.
Chamberlayne insisted that his friend must dine with him at the very
least. He promised, as a temptation, to introduce him to a young and
charming widow, who chanced then to be an inmate of his dwelling. At
last the soldier surrendered at discretion, resolving, however, to
pursue his journey the same evening. They proceeded to the mansion. Mr.
Chamberlayne presented Colonel Washington to his various guests, among
whom was the beautiful Mrs. Custis. Tradition says that the two were
favorably impressed with each other at the first interview. It may be
supposed that the conversation turned upon scenes in which the whole
community had a deep interest--scenes which the young hero, fresh from
his early fields, could eloquently describe; and we may fancy with
what earnest and rapt interest the fair listener "to hear did seriously
incline;" or how "the heavenly rhetoric of her eyes" beamed unconscious
admiration upon the manly speaker. The morning passed; the sun sank
low in the horizon. The hospitable host smiled as he saw the Colonel's
faithful attendant, Bishop, true to his orders, holding his master's
spirited steed at the gate. The veteran waited, and marvelled at the
delay. "Ah, Bishop," says a fair writer describing the occurrence,
"there was an urchin in the drawing-room more powerful than King George
and all his governors! Subtle as a sphynx, he had hidden the important
despatches from the soldier's sight, shut up his ears from the summons
of the tell-tale clock, and was playing such mad pranks with the bravest
heart in Christendom, that it fluttered with the excess of a new-found
happiness!"

Mr. Chamberlayne insisted that no guest ever left his house after
sunset; and his visitor was persuaded, without much difficulty, to
remain. The next day was far advanced when the enamored soldier was
on the road to Williamsburg. His business there being despatched, he
hastened to the presence of the captivating widow.

A short time after the marriage, which took place about 1759, Colonel
and Mrs. Washington fixed their residence at Mount Vernon. The mansion
was at that period a very small building compared with its present
extent. It did not receive many additions before Washington left it to
repair to the first Congress, and thence to the command-in-chief of
the armies of his country. He was accompanied to Cambridge by Mrs.
Washington, who remained some time with him, and witnessed the siege and
evacuation of Boston. She then returned to Virginia.

So prevalent at one time was the disaffection, as Mrs. Washington
herself remarked, that on a visit to Philadelphia, upon her way to camp
one season, few of the ladies of the city called upon her. A passage
from Christopher Marshall's manuscript diary for the year 1775, *
curiously illustrates the state of popular feeling at the breaking out
of the war.

* This passage may be found, quoted from the MS., in a note in the Life
and Correspondence of President Reed. Vol. II., p. 24.

Mrs. Washington arrived in the city on the twenty-first of November, on
her journey to Cambridge. A ball was in preparation, to be given on the
twenty-fourth; and it was expected that both she and the wife of Colonel
Hancock would grace the entertainment with their presence. But from some
threats thrown out, it was feared that a commotion would be made,
which might result in disturbance of the peace of the city. A large
and respectable committee was held at the Philosophical Hall, called
together for the purpose of considering the propriety of allowing the
ball to be given that evening; and after mature consideration, it was
concluded that no such entertainment should take place, either then,
or during the continuance of those melancholy times. A committee was
appointed to inform the managers that they must proceed no further in
the preparations; and also to wait upon "Lady Washington," and request
her not to attend at the assembly to which she had been invited.
The committee acted agreeably to directions; and reported that Lady
Washington had received them with great politeness, thanked the
committee for their kind care and regard in giving her timely notice,
and assured them that their sentiments on this occasion were perfectly
agreeable to her own.

It was not often that the interest taken by Mrs. Washington in political
affairs was evinced by any public expression. The address already
mentioned, which was read in the churches of Virginia, and published in
the Philadelphia papers, June, 1780, as "The Sentiments of an American
Woman"--was attributed--it cannot be ascertained with what truth--to her
pen. * She passed the winters with her husband. Mr. Custis states that
it was the habit of the Commander-in-chief to despatch an aid-decamp, at
the close of each campaign, to escort Mrs. Washington to head-quarters.

* Remembrancer, Vol. VIII.

Her arrival at camp was an event much anticipated; the plain chariot,
with the neat postillions in their scarlet and white liveries, was
always welcomed with great joy by the army, and brought a cheering
influence, which relieved the general gloom in seasons of disaster
and despair. Her example was followed by the wives of other general
officers.

It happened at one time while the ladies remained later than usual in
the camp on the Hudson, that an alarm was given of the approach of the
enemy from New York. The aids-de-camp proposed that the ladies should
be sent away under an escort. To this Washington would not consent.
"The presence of our wives," said he, "will the better encourage us to
a brave defence." The night was dark; and the words of command from the
officers, the marching of the troops, the dragging of artillery into
the yard, and the noise of removing the windows of the house--the
house itself being filled with soldiers--all gave "dreadful note of
preparation." The enemy, however, finding themselves mistaken in their
hopes of a surprise, withdrew without coming to blows.

Lady Washington, as she was always called in the army, usually remained
at head-quarters till the opening of the succeeding campaign, when she
returned to Mount Vernon. She was accustomed afterwards to say that it
had been her fortune to hear the first cannon at the opening, and the
last at the closing, of all the campaigns of the Revolutionary war. How
admirably her equanimity and cheerfulness were preserved, through the
sternest periods of the struggle--and how inspiriting was the influence
she diffused, is testified in many of the military journals. She was
at Valley Forge in that dreadful winter of 1777-8; her presence and
submission to privation strengthening the fortitude of those who might
have complained, and giving hope and confidence to the desponding.
She soothed the distresses of many sufferers, seeking out the poor and
afflicted with benevolent kindness, extending relief wherever it was in
her power, and with graceful deportment presiding in the Chiefs humble
dwelling. *

* Thacher's Journal and other authorities.

In a letter to Mrs. Warren she says, "The General's apartment is very
small; he has had a log cabin built to dine in, which has made our
quarters much more tolerable than they were at first." Their table was
but scantily furnished; but the soldiers fared still worse, sitting down
at a board of rough planks, set with horn spoons and a few tumblers; the
food being often salt herrings and potatoes, without other vegetables,
or tea, coffee, or sugar. Their continental money was no temptation to
the farmers to sell them produce. The stone jug passed round was filled
with water from the nearest spring; and rare was the privilege of toddy
in which to drink the health of the nation. Yet here, forgetful of
herself, the patriot wife anxiously watched the aspect of affairs, and
was happy when the political horizon brightened. She writes to Mrs.
Warren--"It has given me unspeakable pleasure to hear that General
Burgoyne and his army are in safe quarters in your State. Would
bountiful Providence aim a like stroke at General Howe, the measure of
my happiness would be complete." *

* MS. letter, March 7th, 1778.

The Marquis de Chastellux says of Mrs. Washington, whom he met at the
house of General Reed in Philadelphia,--"'She had just arrived from
Virginia, and was going to stay with her husband, as she does at the end
of every campaign. She is about forty, or five-and-forty, rather plump,
but fresh, and of an agreeable countenance." In another passage, he
notices the camp life shared by her: "The head-quarters at Newburgh
consist of a single house, built in the Dutch fashion, and neither large
nor commodious. The largest room in it, which General Washington has
converted into his diningroom, is tolerably spacious, but it has seven
doors and only one window. The chimney is against the wall; so that
there is, in fact, but one vent for the smoke, and the fire is in the
room itself. I found the company assembled in a small room which served
as a parlor. At nine, supper was served, and when bedtime came, I found
that the chamber to which the General conducted me was the very parlor
spoken of, wherein he had made them place a camp-bed. We assembled at
breakfast the next morning at ten, during which interval my bed
was folded up; and my chamber became the sitting room for the whole
afternoon; for American manners do not admit of a bed in the room
in which company is received, especially where there are women. The
smallness of the house, and the inconvenience to which I saw that
General and Mrs. Washington had put themselves to receive me, made me
apprehensive lest M. Rochambeau might arrive on the same day. The day I
remained at headquarters was passed either at table or in conversation."

The recollections of a veteran still living at Manchester,
Massachusetts, at the age of ninety-two, bear testimony to the kindness
of Mrs. Washington towards those in the humblest sphere. One little
incident occurred when she came to spend the cold season with her
husband in winter-quarters. There were but two frame-houses in the
settlement, and neither had a finished upper story. The General was
contented with his rough dwelling, but wished to prepare for his wife a
more retired and comfortable apartment. He sent for the young mechanic,
and desired him and one of his fellow-apprentices to fit up a room in
the upper story for the accommodation of Lady Washington through the
winter. She herself arrived before the work was commenced. "She came,"
says the narrator, "into the place--a portly-looking, agreeable woman
of forty-five, and said to us: 'Now, young men, I care for nothing but
comfort here; and should like you to fit me up a beauffet on one side of
the room, and some shelves and places for hanging clothes on the other.'
We went to work with all our might. Every morning about eleven Mrs.
Washington came up stairs with a glass of spirits for each of us; and
after she and the General had dined, we were called down to eat at their
table. We worked very hard, nailing smooth boards over the rough and
worm-eaten planks, and stopping the crevices in the walls made by time
and hard usage. Then we consulted together how we could smooth the
uneven floor, and take out, or cover over some of the huge black knots.
We studied to do every thing to please so pleasant a lady, and to make
some return in our humble way for the kindness of the General. On the
fourth day, when Mrs. Washington came up to see how we were getting
along, we had finished the work, made the shelves, put up the pegs on
the wall, built the beauffet, and converted the rough garret into a
comfortable apartment. As she stood looking round, I said, 'Madam, we
have endeavored to do the best we could; I hope we have suited you.' She
replied, smiling, 'I am astonished! your work would do honor to an
old master, and you are mere lads. I am not only satisfied, but highly
gratified with what you have done for my comfort.'" As the old soldier
repeated these words, the tears ran down his furrowed cheeks. The thrill
of delight which had seventy years before penetrated his heart at the
approving words of his General's lady, again animated his worn frame,
sending back his thoughts to the very moment and scene.

At one time the head-quarters of the Commander-in-chief were at
the house of Mrs. Berry, in New Jersey. While he remained here Mrs.
Washington arrived. When the carriage stopped, and a female in a plain
russet gown, with white handkerchief neatly folded over her neck, was
seen, Mrs. Berry imagined her to be a domestic. But she was undeceived
when the General went forward to receive her, assisted her from the
carriage, and after the first greeting, began to inquire after his pet
horses. A ball was given in honor of the arrival of "Lady Washington,"
at which her brave husband himself condescended to lead a minuet; it
being the first occasion in a long time on which he had been known to
dance. *

* Communicated by a friend of Mrs. Berry.

An anecdote illustrative of the heroic spirit of the lady whose house
was the Chief's abode on this occasion, will not be here misplaced. Her
husband was at Saratoga attending to some private business, when General
Washington, with his officers and troops, went forth to battle. Mrs.
Berry and the wives of the officers who were with her, were busily
occupied in preparing bandages and wrappings for the use of the army;
every sheet and article of linen in the house having been torn up for
that purpose. She was harassed with anxiety lest her husband should not
return to assume his post before the departure of the troops. He did
not arrive in time; and she had the mortification of seeing another
appointed to the command of his men. Sometime after they were gone, she
heard the welcome sound of his horse's feet. He rode up hastily, and
stopped only long enough to change his wearied horse for another. As he
galloped down the lane leading from the house, he heard his wife's
voice calling, "Sidney, Sidney!" She was leaning from a window, her hand
stretched towards him, as if eagerly soliciting his attention. He turned
and rode within hearing; she wished but to give him her parting words.
These were, "Remember, Sidney, to do your duty! I would rather hear that
you were left a corpse on the field, than that you had played the part
of a coward!"

Mrs. Wilson, a lady whose name is mentioned elsewhere in this book, has
favored me with an account of Mrs. Washington's visit to her father's
house at Union Farm, the last time she came to that part of New Jersey.
She was escorted by Major Washington and ten dragoons. She remained a
day and night at the house of Colonel Stewart, and spoke much with
his daughter concerning housekeeping and her domestic affairs. Her
conversation is described as agreeable, and her manners simple, easy,
and dignified. Among other particulars, Mrs. Washington mentioned that
she had a great deal of domestic cloth made in her house, and kept
sixteen spinning wheels in constant operation. She showed Mrs. Wilson
two dresses of cotton striped with silk, manufactured by her own
domestics, and worn by herself; one weighing a pound and a half, the
other rather less. The silk stripes in the fabric were made from the
ravellings of brown silk stockings, and old crimson damask chair-covers.
Her coachman, footman, and waiting-maid, were all habited in domestic
cloth; though the coachman's cuffs and collars, being scarlet, must have
been imported. In the practice of this economy and moderation, as in the
simplicity of her dress, Mrs. Washington appeared desirous of affording
an example to others in inferior station. As late as 1796, Mrs. Wilson,
inquiring for pocket handkerchiefs at a celebrated fancy store in
Philadelphia, was shown some pieces of lawn, of which Mrs. Washington
had just purchased. The information was added, that she paid six
shillings for handkerchiefs for her own use, but went as high as seven
shillings for the General's.

The anniversary of the alliance with France was celebrated by an
entertainment given in the camp near Middlebrook. * On this festive
occasion Mrs. Washington, Mrs. Greene and Mrs. Knox, and the wives of
several officers were present; and a circle of brilliants, the least
of which, says the gallant journalist, was more valuable than the stone
which the king of Portugal received for his Brazilian possessions. The
ladies and gentlemen from a large circuit around the camp, attended
the celebration. It was opened by a discharge of cannon; and dinner was
prepared in a building used for an academy. There was dancing in the
evening, and a grand display of fire-works. The ball was opened by
General Washington. As this was a festival given by men who had not
enriched themselves by the war, the illuminations were on a cheap scale,
being entirely of their own manufacture; the seats were adorned with no
armorial blazonry, but were the work of native, and rather unskillful
artisans. "Instead of knights of different orders, such as pageants
like the Mischianza could boast, there were but hardy soldiers; happy,
however, in the consciousness that they had contributed to bring about
the auspicious event they had met to celebrate."

* Remembrancer, Vol. VI.

Among the lively sallies of the belles of this entertainment, one is
recorded, that caused no inconsiderable amusement. A young lady, when
asked if the roaring of the British lion in his late speech had not
somewhat depressed the spirit of the dance--replied: "No, it should
rather enliven it; for I have heard that such animals always increase
their howlings when frightened."

For Mrs. Washington a heavy cloud of sorrow hung over the conclusion of
the glorious campaign of 1781. Her only child was seized with a fever
while attending to his duties during the siege of Yorktown. He lived to
behold the surrender of the British army, and expired in the arms of his
mother, mourned for by Washington as a son. The Marquis de Chastellux
visiting Mount Vernon not long after this sad event, says: "I had the
pleasure of passing a day or two with Mrs. Washington, at the General's
house in Virginia, where she appeared to me one of the best women in the
world, and beloved by all about her. She has no family by the General,
but was surrounded by her grandchildren and Mrs. Custis, her son's
widow. The family were then in mourning for Mr. Custis, whose premature
death was a subject of public and private regret."

After the close of 1783, General Washington had leisure for the
superintendence of improvements in the building and grounds at Mount
Vernon. This old mansion was always crowded with visitors.

Social and rural pleasures winged the hours, and past dangers were
pleasantly talked over. A letter never before published, of Mr. N.
Webster, affords a passing glimpse of this period.

"When I was travelling to the south in the year 1785, I called on
General Washington at Mount Vernon. At dinner the last course of dishes
was a species of pancakes, which were handed round to each guest,
accompanied with a bowl of sugar, and another of molasses for seasoning
them, that each one might suit himself. When the dish came to me, I
pushed by me the bowl of molasses, observing to the gentlemen present
that I had enough of _that_ in my own country. The General burst out
with a loud laugh, a thing very unusual with him; 'Ah,' said he, 'there
is nothing in that story about your eating molasses in New England!'
There was a gentleman from Maryland at the table, and the General
immediately told a story, stating that during the Revolution, a hogshead
of molasses was stove in at Westchester by the oversetting of a wagon;
a body of Maryland troops being near, the soldiers ran hastily and saved
all they could by filling their hats or caps with molasses.

"Near the close of the Revolutionary war, I think in 1782, I was at
West Point, when the birth of a Dauphin in France was celebrated by the
American troops at that place. The troops were arranged in a line along
the hills on the west of the camp, on the point, and on the mountains on
the east side of the Hudson. When the order was given to fire, there was
a stream of firing all around the camp, rapidly passing from one end of
the line to the other; while the roar of cannon reverberated from the
hills, resounded among the mountains, and thousands of human voices made
the atmosphere ring with a song prepared for the occasion. 'A Dauphin
is born!' This was a splendid exhibition, closed with a handsome repast
under a long arcade or bower formed with branches of trees. I have never
seen any account of this celebration in print."

While the victorious general was thus merged in "the illustrious farmer
of Mount Vernon," Mrs. Washington performed the duties of a Virginia
housewife, which in those days were not merely nominal. She gave
directions, it is said, in every department, so that, without bustle
or confusion, the most splendid dinner appeared as if there had been no
effort in the preparation. She presided at her abundant table with ease
and elegance, and was indeed most truly great in her appropriate sphere
of home. Much of her time was occupied in the care of the children of
her lost son.

The period came when this rural Eden, which had bloomed and flourished
under their care, was to be exchanged for new scenes. A few years of
rest and tranquil happiness in the society of friends having rewarded
the Chief's military toils, he was called by the voice of the nation
to assume the duties of its Chief Magistrate. The call was obeyed. The
establishment of the President and Mrs. Washington was formed at the
seat of government. The levees had more of courtly ceremonial than has
been known since; but it was necessary to maintain the dignity of office
by forms that should inspire respect. Special regard was paid to the
wives of men who had deserved much of their country. Mrs. Robert Morris
was accustomed to sit at the right of the lady of the President, at
the drawing-rooms; and the widows of Greene and Montgomery were always
handed to and from their carriages by the President himself; the
secretaries and gentlemen of his household performing those services for
the other ladies. In this elevated station, Mrs. Washington, unspoiled
by distinction, still leaned on the kindness of her friends, and
cultivated cheerfulness as a duty. She was beloved as few are in a
superior condition. Mrs. Warren says, in reply to one of her letters,
"Your observation may be true, that many younger and gayer ladies
consider your situation as enviable; yet I know not one who by general
consent would be more likely to obtain the suffrages of the sex, even
were they to canvass at elections for the elevated station, than the
lady who now holds the first rank in the United States." * On the
retirement of Washington from public life, he prepared to spend the
remnant of his days in the retreat his taste had adorned.

* Manuscript letter.

It was a spectacle of wonder to Europeans, to see this great man calmly
resigning the power which had been committed to his hands, and returning
with delight to his agricultural pursuits. His wife could justly claim
her share in the admiration; for she quitted without regret the elevated
scenes in which she had shone so conspicuous, to enter with the same
active interest as before upon her domestic employments. Her advanced
age did not impair her ability or her inclination to the discharge
of housewifely duties. But she was not long permitted to enjoy the
happiness she had anticipated. It was hers too soon to join in the grief
of a mourning nation for the death of Washington.

Visits of condolence were paid to the bereaved lady by the President and
others; and from all quarters came tributes of sympathy and sorrow. She
continued to receive the visitors who came to Mount Vernon, and gave
the same attention to her domestic concerns. But in less than two years
after her husband's death, she was attacked by a fever that proved
fatal. When aware that the hour of her dissolution was approaching, she
called her grandchildren to her bedside; discoursed to them on their
respective duties; spoke of the happy influences of religion; and then,
surrounded by her weeping family, resigned her life into the hands of
her Creator, in the seventy-first year of her age. Her death took place
on the 22d of May, 1802. Her remains rest in the same vault with those
of Washington, in the family tomb at Mount Vernon.

Those who read the record of her worth, dwell with interest on the
loveliness of her character. To a superior mind she joined those amiable
qualities and Christian virtues which best adorn the female sex, and
a gentle dignity that inspired respect without creating enmity. Her
features are familiar to all, from the portraits of her, taken at
different ages, published in Sparks' Life of Washington, and the
National Portrait Gallery. These have been copied into different
publications.




XXVII. ABIGAIL ADAMS.

[Illustration: 0040]

|The Letters of Mrs. Adams are well known to American readers. Her
history and character have been so well unfolded in these and in
the memoir by her grandson, that an extended sketch of her would be
superfluous. Only a brief notice, therefore, is here required.

Abigail Smith was descended from the genuine stock of the Puritan
settlers of Massachusetts. Her father, the Reverend William Smith,
was for more than forty years minister of the Congregational Church at
Weymouth. The ancestors of her mother, Elizabeth Quincy, were persons
distinguished in the sacred office, and first in honor among the leaders
of the church. From this ancestry, it may be inferred that her earliest
associations were among those whose tastes and habits were marked by the
love of literature. She was the second of three daughters, and was born
at Weymouth, Nov. 11th, 1744. Not being sent to any school, on account
of the delicate state of her health, the knowledge she evinced in after
life was the result of her reading and observation, rather than of what
is commonly called education. The lessons that most deeply impressed her
mind were received from Mrs. Quincy, her grandmother, whose beneficial
influence she frequently acknowledges. Her marriage took place, October
25th, 1764. She passed quietly the ten years that succeeded, devoting
herself to domestic life, and the care of her young family. In 1775 she
was called to pass through scenes of great distress, amid the horrors of
war and the ravages of pestilence.

She sympathized deeply in the sufferings of those around her. "My hand
and heart," she says, "still tremble at this domestic fury and fierce
civil strife. I feel for the unhappy wretches, who know not where to
fly for succor. I feel still more for my bleeding countrymen, who
are hazarding their lives and their limbs!" To the agonized hearts of
thousands of women went the roar of the cannon booming over those hills!
Many a bosom joined in breathing that prayer--"Almighty God! cover the
heads of our countrymen, and be a shield to our dear friends."

When the neighborhood was no longer the field of military action, she
occupied herself with the management of the household and farm. Mr.
Adams was appointed joint commissioner at the court of France, and
embarked in February, 1778, with his eldest son, John Quincy. During
the years in which Mrs. Adams was deprived of his society, she devoted
herself to the various duties devolving on her, submitting with
patience to the difficulties of the times. In all her anxieties,
her calm and lofty spirit never deserted her; nor did she regret the
sacrifice of her own feelings for the good of the community. After the
return of peace, Mr. Adams was appointed the first representative of the
nation at the British court, and his wife departed to join him; moving
from this time amidst new scenes and new characters, but preserving,
in the variety and splendor of life in the luxurious cities of the old
world, the simplicity and singleness of heart which had adorned
her seclusion at home. In the prime of life, with a mind free from
prejudice, her record of the impressions she received is instructive as
well as interesting. She resided for a time in France, and visited the
Netherlands, enjoying all she saw, with that delicate perception of
beauty which belongs to a poetic spirit. When the official duties of Mr.
Adams called him to the court of St. James, the unaffected republican
simplicity, and exquisite union of frankness and refinement in her
manners, charmed the proud circles of the English aristocracy. As was to
be expected, neither she nor her husband were exempted from annoyances
growing out of the late controversy. She writes to Mrs. Warren: "Whoever
in Europe is known to have adopted republican principles must expect to
have all the engines of every court and courtier in the world displayed
against him." *

The aspect of independence she maintained, considering what was due
to her country, did not tend to propitiate the pride of royalty; yet
notwithstanding the drawbacks that sometimes troubled her, her residence
in London seems to have been an agreeable one. Her letters to her
sisters are a faithful transcript of her feelings. She observed with
mingled pleasure and pain the contrast between the condition of her own
country and that of the prosperous kingdoms she visited. Writing to Mrs.
Shaw she says--"When I reflect on the advantages which the people of
America possess over the most polished of other nations, the ease
with which property is obtained, the plenty which is so equally
distributed,--their personal liberty and security of life and property,
I feel grateful to Heaven who marked out my lot in that happy land;
at the same time I deprecate that restless spirit, and that baneful
ambition and thirst for power, which will finally make us as wretched as
our neighbors." **

* Unpublished letter.

** Unpublished letter, 1787.

When Mr. Adams, having returned with his family to the United States,
became Vice President, his wife appeared, as in other situations--the
pure-hearted patriot--the accomplished woman--the worthy partner of his
cares and honors. He was called to the Presidency, and the widest field
was opened for the exercise of her talents. Her letter written on
the day that decided the people's choice, shows a sense of the solemn
responsibility he had assumed, with a spirit of reliance upon Divine
guidance, and forgetfulness of all thoughts of pride in higher
sentiments--honorable to the heart of a Daughter of America. Well might
the husband thus addressed bear the testimony he does in one of
his letters, in the midst of the perils of war: "A soul as pure, as
benevolent, as virtuous, and pious as yours, has nothing to fear, but
every thing to hope and expect from the last of human evils."

In her elevated position, the grace and elegance of Mrs. Adams, with
her charms of conversation, were rendered more attractive by her frank
sincerity. Her close observation, discrimination of character, and clear
judgment, gave her an influence which failed not to be acknowledged. Her
husband ever appreciated her worth, and was sustained in spirit by her
buoyant cheerfulness and affectionate sympathy, in the multiplicity of
his cares and labors. It was hers, too, to disarm the demon of party
spirit, to calm agitations, heal the rankling wounds of pride, and pluck
the root of bitterness away.

After the retirement of her husband, Mrs. Adams continued to take a deep
interest in public affairs, and communicated to her friends her opinions
both of men and measures. Writing to Mrs. Warren, March 9th, 1807,
she says: "If we were to count our years by the revolutions we have
witnessed, we might number them with the Antediluvians. So rapid have
been the changes that the mind, though fleet in its progress, has been
outstripped by them, and we are left like statues gazing at what we can
neither fathom nor comprehend. You inquire, what does Mr. Adams think of
Napoleon? If you had asked Mrs. Adams, she would have replied to you in
the words of Pope,=

```'If plagues and earthquakes break not heaven's design,

```Why then a Borgia or a Napoline?'"=

Her health was much impaired; and from this time she remained in her
rural seclusion at Quincy. With faculties unimpaired in old age, her
serenity and benign cheerfulness continued to the last; the shadows of a
life full of changes never deepened into gloom; she was still a minister
of blessing to all within her influence, and in the settled calm of
Christian contentment awaited the change that was to terminate her
connection with the things of earth. To this she was summoned on the
twenty-eighth of October, 1818.

Her character is a worthy subject of contemplation for her countrywomen.
With intellectual gifts of the highest order she combined sensibility,
tact, and much practical knowledge of life. Thus was she qualified for
eminent usefulness in her distinguished position as the companion of
one great statesman, and the guide of another. Few may rise to such
pre-eminence; but many can emulate the firmness that sustained her
in all vicissitudes, and can imitate her Christian virtues. These are
pictured in her Letters, the publication of which was the first attempt
to give tradition a palpable form, by laying open the thoughts and
feelings of one who had borne an important part in our nation's early
history.

[Illustration: 0050]

|The mother of Abigail Adams, it is said, took her last illness from a
soldier who had served in her daughter's family, and whom she visited at
Braintree, he having returned sick from the army.

She was the daughter of the Hon. John Quincy, of Braintree, and died in
1775, at the age of fifty-three. Without the least tincture of what is
called pride of family, she possessed a true dignity of character,
with great kindness of heart; and her efforts to relieve those in
need extended to all objects of distress within her reach. Prudent and
industrious in her own domestic management, she was attentive to provide
employment for her poor neighbors; and was mild, frank and friendly in
her intercourse with the parishioners, who regarded her with unbounded
esteem and affection.

Another of her three celebrated daughters--Elizabeth--was remarkable in
character and influence. She was born in 1750, and married the Rev. John
Shaw of Haverhill. Her second husband was the Rev. Stephen Peabody,
of Atkinson. Like her sister, she possessed superior powers of
conversation, with a fine person, and polished and courtly manners. Her
reading was extensive, and when speaking to youthful listeners on some
improving topic, she would frequently recite passages from Shakespeare,
Dryden, and the other English poets. Attentive to her domestic duties,
and economical from Christian principle, to purity of heart and highly
cultivated intellectual powers she united the most winning feminine
grace. Her house at Haverhill was the centre of an elegant little circle
of society for many years after the Revolution, and resorted to by the
most cultivated residents of Boston and its vicinity. In Atkinson
her gentle and friendly deportment won the lasting regard of the
parishioners. She loved to instruct the ignorant, feed the poor, and
comfort the afflicted; and the young were particularly the objects of
her solicitude. Thus dispensing light and joy wherever she moved, she
passed a useful, and therefore a happy life, which terminated at the age
of sixty-six.

Mrs. Peabody formed an early and enduring friendship with Mrs. Warren,
for whose character and intellect her letters express the highest
respect.

Her correspondence contains frequent remarks upon the prospects of the
country, and the movements of the army. "Lost to virtue," she says to
John Adams--"lost to humanity must that person be, who can view without
emotion the complicated distress of this injured land. Evil tidings
molest our habitations, and wound our peace. Oh, my brother! oppression
is enough to make a wise people mad."

On her road to Plymouth to visit Mrs. Warren, her MS. journal mentions
that she stopped at the house of Dr. Hall, where she dined on salt bacon
and eggs. Three of the daughters were grown, and appeared sensible as
well as pretty. "But," she says, "in order to discover whether their
sensibility reached further than their faces, I sat down after dinner,
while they were quilting a very nice homespun bedquilt, and read in a
book I had brought with me several detached pieces--"Virtue and
Constancy rewarded," "Zulima the Coquette, etc." This little memorandum
throws light not only on the writer's character, but the manners of the
time. The result appeared satisfactory; the young ladies being so well
pleased with the reading that they begged their visitor to continue it.

The eldest daughter, Mary, was married in 1762, to Richard Cranch,
afterwards Judge of the Court of Common Pleas in Massachusetts. In 1775,
the family removed from Boston to Quincy, then a part of Braintree,
where they continued to reside till 1811. In October of that year both
Mr. and Mrs. Cranch died, and were buried on the same day. The life
of Mrs. Cranch was spent in deeds of charity and kindness. She was
remarkable for her cheerfulness and fortitude, with earnestness in the
discharge of her Christian duties. The Hon. Judge William Cranch, of
Washington, is her son.

In those portions of the country which were, at different periods, the
scene of military operations, the energy, heroism, and magnanimity of
woman were called by necessity into continual exercise. But there were
other women whose more homely heroism was not without its effect; whose
unacknowledged influence extended widely into the future. Their sphere
of action limited to the bosom of their own families, the influence
wrought quietly and unmarked, yet sent forth an impulse and an energy,
like the life-blood propelled from the heart, through our whole national
system. The mothers, who through years of adverse fortune were true to
American principles, and who kept them pure in their homes in the
season of prosperity, although no brilliant acts illustrate their simple
history, rendered real service to the country. Their duties during
the war, or after the return of peace, were fulfilled in a spirit of
self-sacrifice, without the wish or expectation of reward. The noblest
reward, however, was theirs; the sons in whose minds they had nursed the
germs of patriotism and virtue, rose up to call them blessed.

Our country offers abundant examples of men who have attained the
highest eminence, ascribing all to early maternal influence and
training. For the mother of Henry Clay, that great man--the pride and
honor of his country--has ever expressed feelings of profound affection
and veneration. Though her life afforded no incidents of striking or
romantic interest, she was what expresses the perfection of female
character--an excellent mother. She was the youngest of two daughters,
who were the only children of George and Elizabeth Hudson. Her name also
was Elizabeth. She was born in the county of Hanover, in Virginia, in
1750. Her early education was such as was attainable at that period
in the colony. In her fifteenth year she was married to John Clay, a
preacher of the Baptist denomination, and became the mother of eight
children. Mr. Clay died during the war of the Revolution. Some years
afterwards, Mrs. Clay contracted a second marriage with Mr. Henry
Watkins; and in course of time eight children more were added to her
family. The cares devolving upon her, in the charge of so many children,
and the superintendence of domestic concerns, of course occupied her
time to the exclusion of participation in matters of public interest.
She must, however, have borne her share in the agitations and dangers
of the time, in behalf of those who claimed her maternal solicitude and
guidance.

Her son, Henry, was separated from her when only thirteen years of age,
having before that period been occasionally absent from home for months
in going to school. In 1792, his step-father removed, with his mother
and family, from Hanover County to Woodford County in Kentucky, leaving
him at Richmond, in Virginia. He did not again see his mother till the
fall of 1797, when he himself emigrated to Kentucky. His estimable and
beloved parent died in 1827, having survived most of her children, of
whom there are now but four remaining--two by her first, and two by her
last marriage.

She was from her youth a member of the Baptist Church, and eminent in
piety. Her distinguishing traits of character were energy and industry;
and she was most faithful in the performance of all her domestic duties.




XXVIII. MARTHA WILSON.

[Illustration: 0060]

|One of the representatives of those times, in which America must
ever feel pride, is yet living at the Lakelands, Lake of Otsego, near
Cooperstown, New York. She not only retains an accurate and vivid
recollection of scenes in the stormy and fearful infancy of the nation
on whose vigorous manhood she is permitted to look, but has kept pace in
intellectual cultivation, with the advancement of modern days. The grasp
of mind that apprehends and appreciates the progress of her country's
prosperity and power, gives a deeper interest to her thrilling recital
of incidents belonging to its struggle for life. I am particularly
favored in having received from her various anecdotes of persons with
whom she was intimately acquainted at that period, her reminiscences of
whom would form a most valuable contribution to the domestic history of
the Revolution.

The subject of this brief sketch is a daughter of the late Colonel
Charles Stewart of New Jersey. She was born December 20th, 1758, at
Sidney, the residence of her maternal grandfather, Judge Johnston, in
the township of Kingwood, and county of Hunterdon, in that State. This
old mansion was at that time one of the most stately and aristocratic
of the colonial residences in this section of West Jersey. Constructed
while the border settlements of the province were still subject to
treacherous visits from the Indian, its square and massive walls and
heavy portals had reference as well to protection and defence as to
"the pride of life;" and for many years, in its earlier days, it
was not only the stronghold of the wealthy proprietor, his family and
dependants, but the refuge in alarm, for miles around, to the settlers
whose humbler abodes were more assailable by the rifle and firebrand of
the red man. "The big stone house," as it was designated in the common
parlance of the people, was thus long a place of note as a refuge from
danger; and not less, in later times, as one for a redress of wrongs,
and the punishment of crime; Judge Johnston having been, for more than
thirty years previous to the Revolution, the chief magistrate of that
section of the colony, holding a court regularly, on Monday of every
week, in one of the halls of his dwelling.

It stood in that region of-undulating hill country, between the high
mountains of North and the flat sands of South Jersey, of the beauty of
which those who fly across the State by railroad at the present day
can form no conception: where blue hills and tufted woodlands, winding
streams and verdant valleys, often present to the eye in their varied
forms and combinations, a perfection of picturesque and rural beauty,
which, while it seldom fails to attract the admiration of the passing
traveller, fastens upon the heart of the resident with an enduring
charm. Finely situated on an elevated terrace, at the confluence of
the Capulong and a branch of the Raritan, overhung by extensive and
park-like woods, with encircling waters and clusters of grove-covered
islets behind, and wide-spread valleys in front, it was regarded in
olden times as one of the choicest residences in the State. As the
birthplace and home in childhood of the subject of this record, it has
attractions of association and memory which cause her affections to
revert warmly to it after a pilgrimage, amid other scenes, of well nigh
a century.

The old house was accidentally burned down some fifty years ago, and
a new, though less imposing, dwelling erected on the same site, by a
branch of the Coxe family. This, in its turn, became the resort, for
many years, of a circle greatly distinguished for beauty, wit, and
cultivated talent; but now, for a long time, vicissitudes of fortune,
neglect, desertion, and decay, have accomplished in it their accustomed
work; and stripped of its embellishments of taste, despoiled of much
of its fine woods, and its majestic single trees, it presents little
indication of its former fortunes, and is fallen in its uses to the
purposes of a common farm.

Previous to the Revolution, Colonel Stewart resided chiefly at
Landsdown, a beautiful property in Kingwood, immediately adjoining the
estate of his father-in-law at Sidney. It was here that the later years
of the childhood of his daughter were spent; and here, at the early
age of thirteen, she was bereaved of her mother--a woman of strong and
polished intellect, of a refined and poetical taste, and said to have
been the best read female in the province. Till within a short time of
Mrs. Stewart's death, the education of her daughter had been exclusively
at home. She had been but a brief period at a boarding-school, when
summoned to the dying bed of her mother; and it is no slight proof
of the mental attainments and maturity of character which she already
possessed, that her father, in his bereavement, found her society too
necessary to his happiness, and the maternal care which she was called
to exercise over her sisters and brothers of a more tender age, too
essential to their welfare, to permit her again to resume her place
at school. It is chiefly, therefore, to the self-cultivation of an
inquiring and philosophic mind, and to association at home and in
society, with the intelligent and the wise, that are to be ascribed the
rich stores of general information and wide-spread practical knowledge,
for which, from early womanhood to the passing day, she has been so
highly distinguished, and so justly and extensively honored.

The hospitality of Colonel Stewart was unbounded. His friend Chief
Justice Smith of New Jersey has expressed this trait of character in
the epitaph upon his tomb--"The friend and the stranger were almost
compelled to come in." His house was the resort of the choice spirits
in intellect and public influence, of the times; and it was at his
table and fireside that his daughter, called at the early age we have
mentioned to the responsible position of female head of his family, from
1771 to 1776, imbibed even in childhood from him and his compeers the
principles of patriotism and the love of freedom which entitle her name
and character to a prominent place among the Women of the Revolution.
Colonel Stewart himself had been trained from infancy in the spirit
of 1688. His grandfather, Charles Stewart, of Gortlee, a cadet of the
Stewarts of Garlies, was an officer of dragoons in the army of William
III., and acquitted himself gallantly, at the side of his monarch, in
the battle of the Boyne. The demesne which he afterwards possessed, in
the north of Ireland, was the reward of his valor; but, in transmitting
to his son and his son's son the untrammelled spirit of a Scotch
Puritan, who had periled his life in the cause of civil and religious
liberty, he conferred upon them a better and more enduring heritage.

It was the proud and honorable independence of the same indomitable
principles, that led his descendant in early youth, ere he had fully
attained his majority, to self exile in the new world. Energy of
character and enlarged enterprise soon secured to him here both private
fortune and public influence; and the first breath of the spirit of
"'76" which passed over the land, kindled within his bosom a flame
of zeal for the freedom and honor of his adopted country, which no
discouragement could dampen, and which neither toil, nor danger, nor
disaster could extinguish.

His daughter well recollects having been told by him, on his return
from the first general meeting of the patriots of New Jersey for
a declaration of rights, an incident relating to himself, highly
characteristic of the times. Many of the most distinguished royalists
were his personal and intimate friends; and when it became evident
that a crisis in public feeling was about to occur, when disregarded
remonstrance would be converted into open resistance, great efforts
were made by some of those holding office under the crown, to win him to
their side. Tempting promises of ministerial favor and advancement were
made to induce him at least to withhold his influence from the cause of
the people, even if he would not take part in support of the king; and
this with increased importunity till the very opening of the meeting.
But when it was seen to have been in vain--when he immediately rose and
was one of the first, if not the very first, with the Stocktons, the
Pattersons, and the Frelinghuysens of the day, in the spirit, at least,
of the Declaration of 1776, boldly to pledge his "life, his fortune,
and his sacred honor" in defence of the rights of freemen against
the aggressions of the throne--the Attorney General, approaching and
extending his hand, said to him, in saddened tones, as if foretelling
a speedy doom--"Farewell, my friend Charles!--when the halter is about
your neck, send for me!--I'll do what I can to save you!"

It was thus that the familiar confidence of the patriot father
cherished and strengthened, in the bosom of his daughter, sympathies
and principles corresponding with his own; while in the accelerated
movements of the Revolution, he successively and rapidly became a member
of the first Provincial Congress of New Jersey, Colonel of the First
Regiment of minute-men of that State; Colonel of the Second Regiment of
the line; and eventually, one of the staff of Washington, as Commissary
General of Issues, by Commission of the Congress of 1776.

In January of this year, Miss Stewart, at the age of seventeen, gave
her hand in marriage to Robert Wilson, a young Irishman of the Barony of
Innishowen, who, after being educated and trained for mercantile life
in one of the first houses of his native land, had emigrated to America
a few years before, and amassed a considerable fortune. In her husband
she made choice of one not less congenial in political sentiments and
feeling than in intellectual culture and in winning manners. The first
intelligence of the battle of Lexington had fired his warm blood into
immediate personal action in the cause; and he was one of the volunteers
who, with his friend Colonel Reed, accompanied General Washington from
Philadelphia to the camp at Cambridge. A brief journal kept by him
at this time shows that for six months he was at head-quarters,
as muster-master-general, honored by the confidence of the
Commander-in-chief, and often a guest at his table. He shared largely
in the exposures of the camp, and distinguished himself for daring
intrepidity, in two or three instances, in the skirmishes and
cannonading which occurred at times between the forces. But his health
failing, he was obliged to forego the prospect of a military appointment
pledged to him; and resigning his position sought the milder climate of
the Jerseys.

Among the officers in the British army were several near relatives of
Mr. Wilson; and it is a fact illustrative of the times, that a young
cousin-german, who not long before the commencement of hostilities had
visited the family of their common friend and relative, Colonel Stewart,
at Kingwood, was now at Boston, in the gallant discharge of his duty
in the enemy's ranks. He was afterwards wounded at the battle of
Germantown, and visited by Colonel Stewart under a flag of truce.

It was on his return to Jersey that Mr. Wilson's marriage took
place. Shortly afterwards, he, with his bride, became a resident of
Hackettstown, near which he possessed a valuable property. During the
year 1777, he was again in public service, as Assistant Commissary
General of Purchases; but, finding the duties of the station too arduous
for his health, he resigned his appointment and entered into mercantile
pursuits in Philadelphia. In these he was very extensively and
successfully engaged--greatly honored and beloved--till his death, in
1779, at the early age of twenty-eight. His wife had accompanied him
to Philadelphia, and was established in much elegance there; but on her
widowhood thus in her twentieth year, she returned to her residence at
Hackettstown, where she remained till near the close of the war.

During the whole Revolution, the situation of Mrs. Wilson was as
favorable, if not more so, for observation and a knowledge of important
movements and events, than that of any other lady in her native State.
Her father, at the head of an important department, in the staff of
the Commander-in-chief, became generally, and almost from necessity,
familiarly acquainted with the principal officers of the army; and
head-quarters being most of the time within twenty or thirty miles of
her residence, she not only had constant intercourse in person and by
letter with him, but frequently and repeatedly entertained at her house
many of his military friends. Among these, with numerous others of
less distinction, were Washington, La Fayette, Hamilton, Wayne, Greene,
Gates, Maxwell, Lincoln, Henry Lee, Stevens, Walter Stewart, Ethan
Allen, Pulaski, Butler, Morgan, Sinclair, Woodward, Varnum, Paul Jones,
Cochrane, Craik, etc.-With General Washington she was on terms of
friendship. She first met him in Philadelphia, in 1775, when he was
preparing to join the army at Cambridge. He afterwards visited her at
different times at her residence in Hackettstown; on the last occasion a
year after her husband's death, and a short time after the execution of
Major André. His approach, with Mrs. Washington and his staff, under the
escort of a troop of horse, was privately announced to Mrs. Wilson in
time to have dinner in readiness for a party of thirty or forty persons.
To one whose patriotism was so decided, it must have been a pleasure
indeed, thus to welcome to her roof and table the leading spirits of the
land. The party did not leave till after luncheon on the second day; and
knowing that they could not reach their destination till late at night,
ample provision was made from her larder and wine cellar, to furnish all
needed refreshment by the way.

Before these distinguished guests took their departure, a large
concourse of people from the adjacent country and the towns in the
vicinity had crowded round the house to catch a glimpse of the idolized
Chief. A few members of the legislature and the prominent gentlemen of
the neighborhood were admitted and formally introduced. Among these was
Dr. Kennedy, the family physician, whose salutation, as Mrs. Wilson well
recollects, was: "I am happy indeed to meet the man whom under God, I
deem the saviour of our country." As it was impossible for the multitude
to obtain entrance, a little stratagem was devised by one of the
gentlemen, by which those without could be gratified without subjecting
the General to the annoyance of a mere exhibition of himself. Knowing
his admiration of a fine horse, he ordered an animal remarkable for
its beauty to be brought into the street, and then invited him out to
inspect it. Thus an opportunity was afforded to the whole assemblage to
gaze upon and salute him with their cheers.

Mrs. Wilson relates the following anecdote in connection with another of
the visits of Washington to her:

One Mrs. Crafts, a native of Germany, who had emigrated and settled in
New Jersey, through the industry of herself and husband had become the
owner of a fine farm near Hackettstown, and was in comfortable and easy
circumstances. She was an excellent neighbor; and though an ardent tory,
was universally respected for her many kind and good qualities. On
the morning of General Washington's departure, as on the visit before
described, Mrs. Wilson's house was surrounded by a throng of persons
eager to obtain a glance at him. In this state of things, Mrs. Crafts,
tory as she was, repaired to the spot and sent a message to Mrs. Wilson
in her parlor, requesting from her the privilege of seeing the General.
A reply was sent, saying that General Washington was at the time
surrounded by a crowd of officers; but if Mrs. Crafts would station
herself in the hall till he passed through, her desire would be
gratified. She accordingly took her post there, and patiently waited his
appearance. When, at length, she obtained a full view of his majestic
form and noble countenance, raising both hands, she burst into tears,
uttering in her native tongue an exclamation expressive of intense
astonishment and emotion! Mrs. Crafts never afterwards ranked herself on
the tory side. "The august and commanding presence of the father of his
country," as Mrs. Wilson remarks, "having alone inspired her with such
profound veneration for the man as to produce an abiding respect for the
cause of which he was leader."

Mrs. Washington was several times the guest of Mrs. Wilson, both at her
own house and that of her father. These visits were made when on her
way to and from the camp. That mentioned in the sketch of "Martha
Washington," was at the Union Farm, the residence of Colonel Stewart.

The hospitality which Mrs. Wilson had the privilege thus repeatedly to
extend to these illustrious guests, was not forgotten by them, but
most kindly acknowledged, and returned by very marked attentions to her
daughter and only child, on her entrance into society in Philadelphia
during the Presidency of Washington. In personal calls and invitations
to her private parties, Mrs. Washington distinguished her by courtesies
rarely shown to persons of her age. The merest accident has placed
before me, without the knowledge or agency of any one interested, the
letter of a lady to a friend, in which the appearance and dress of this
daughter at a drawingroom at-the President's is described. I insert it
as illustrative of the costume on such an occasion, now more than half
a century ago. She says, "Miss Wilson looked beautifully last night. She
was in full dress, yet in elegant simplicity. She wore book muslin over
white mantua, trimmed with broad lace round the neck; half sleeves of
the same, also trimmed with lace; with white satin sash and slippers;
her hair elegantly dressed in curls, without flowers, feathers, or
jewelry. Mrs. Moylan told me she was the handsomest person at the
drawing-room, and more admired than any one there."

Mrs. Wilson herself was favored with more than ordinary advantages
of feature and person. In youth she is said to have been remarkably
handsome. Even at the age of thirty-eight, the period of life at which
the likeness engraved for this volume was taken, a lady of Philadelphia
thus writes of her during a visit there: "I wish you could see dear Mrs.
Wilson. She is the genteelest, easiest, prettiest person I have seen
in the city. And I am far, I can assure you, from being alone in this
sentiment. I hear many others constantly express the same opinion. She
looked charmingly this evening in a Brunswick robe of striped muslin,
trimmed with spotted lawn; a beautiful handkerchief gracefully arranged
on her neck; her hair becomingly craped and thrown into curls under a
very elegant white bonnet, with green-leafed band, worn on one side. She
says she is almost worn out with a round of visiting among the Chews,
Conynghams, and Moylans, Mrs. General Stewart, etc., etc.; but she does
not look so. I do not wonder that all who know this good lady should so
love her. I am sure no one could know her intimately and not do so." It
was not alone for friends and acquaintances, and persons of distinction
and known rank, that Mrs. Wilson kept open house in the Revolution.
Such was the liberality of her patriotism, that her gates on the public
road.bore in conspicuous characters the inscription, "Hospitality within
to all American officers, and refreshment for their soldiers."

An invitation not likely to prove a mere form of words on the regular
route of communication between the northern and southern posts of the
army. Not satisfied with having given even this assurance of welcome,
instances have occurred in which the stranger of respectability, who had
taken quarters at the public-house of the village, has been transferred
at her solicitation to the comforts and elegance of her table and
fireside.

On one occasion it was reported to her that a gentleman had been taken
ill at the tavern. Knowing, if this were true, that he must suffer there
from the poorness of the accommodations, and want of proper attention,
a male friend was sent to make inquiry; and learning that this was the
case, she had him brought by her servants immediately to her dwelling,
and the best medical aid and nursing secured. He proved to be a surgeon
in the army, * of high respectability, several of whose friends, male
and female, hastened to visit him; and during a critical illness, and
long convalescence, shared with him the hospitality of the benevolent
hostess, and formed with her an enduring friendship.

* Dr. Crosby, of New York.

From the commencement of the struggle for freedom till its close, Mrs.
Wilson was occasionally a personal witness and participator in scenes
and incidents of more than ordinary interest. She was in Philadelphia
on the day of the Declaration of Independence, and made one of a
party--embracing the élite of the beauty, wealth, and fashion of the
city and neighborhood--entertained at a brilliant fête, given in
honor of the event, on board the frigate Washington, at anchor in the
Delaware, by Captain Reid, the Commander. The magnificent brocade which
she wore on the occasion, with its hooped petticoat, flowing train,
laces, gimp, and flowers, remained in its wardrobe unaltered long after
the commencement of the present century, and till the difficulty of
transporting it in its ample folds and stately dimensions led to its
separation into pieces, and thus prepared the way for it to become
a victim to the modern taste for turning the antique dresses of
grandmammas into eiderdown bedspreads, and drawing-room chair-covers.

Within the month after, she became a witness to a scene--the legitimate
result of that Declaration--the mustering of her neighbors and fellow
citizens in Jersey under the banner of her uncle, Colonel Philip
Johnston of Sidney, and the girding on of their arms for the bloody
conflict in which, on Long Island, they were so speedily engaged.
Colonel Johnston, when a mere youth, a student of college at Princeton,
had abandoned his books for the sword, in the French war of 1755, and
with such bravery and success as to return to his home with military
reputation and honors. He was now appointed by the Congress of New
Jersey to the command of its first volunteer regiment; and in a few
days a thousand strong arms and brave hearts were gathered round him, in
readiness to march against the invading foe. Mrs. Wilson was present
in his house at the final leave-taking of his youthful wife and infant
daughters. He was a fine-looking officer--tall and athletic, and of
great physical power. He was said to have had a premonition of his fate.
This impression, it was thought, added to his own, if not to the common
grief of his family. He was seen in his closet in earnest prayer just
before taking his departure. The final embrace of his family was
deeply affecting, and is well pictured in the frontispiece of Glover's
Leonidas, where the husband and the father, departing for Thermopylae,
overcome by the grief of his wife hanging upon his bosom, and that of
his children clinging in his embrace, looks to Heaven in strong appeal
for aid, while=

````" Down the hero's cheek--

```Down rolls the manly sorrow."=

Colonel Johnston fell a victim on the altar of his country a few days
afterwards, in the fatal conflict of the 27th August, 1776. General
Sullivan, in whose division he served, bore the strongest testimony to
his intrepidity and heroism. "By the well-directed fire of his troops,"
he wrote, "the enemy were several times repulsed, and lanes made through
them, till a ball in the breast put an end to the life of as gallant an
officer as ever commanded a battalion."

The robbery of her father's house by a company of bandit tories was,
however, the most alarming and exciting scene, illustrative of the times
of the Revolution, through which Mrs. Wilson passed. This occurred in
June, 1783. Deprived, by the marriage of his daughter in 1776, of the
maternal care which she had exercised over his younger children, Colonel
Stewart, on his appointment to the staff of the Commander-in-chief, had
placed them at school, and broken up his establishment in King-wood. But
when the triumph at Yorktown gave assurance of peace, in the hope of
a speedy return to the enjoyments of private life, he gathered his two
sons and two daughters to a home again, under the management, for a
second time, of their elder and now widowed sister: not at Landsdown,
his former dwelling, however, but at the "Union," in the adjoining
township of Lebanon. Like Sidney, this old residence was, in that day,
one of the great houses of upper jersey; and the surrounding farm,
comprising a thousand acres of land under fine cultivation, was noted
throughout the State. The dwelling consisted of three separate houses,
built at different periods--one of brick, one of wood, and the other of
stone--without regard to any harmony of style or architecture. They were
so situated as to form the connecting sides of a quadrangular courtyard,
into which the porches and a piazza opened. With a farm-house and
numerous out-buildings clustering round, the whole presented the
aspect of a hamlet, rather than of a single abode, in the midst of
the landscape spreading widely on the east, the west and the south.
Immediately in the rear, on the north, stretches the chain of rugged
hills, which separate the head waters of the Raritan from those of the
Muskenetcong, a tributary of the Delaware; and within a quarter of a
mile of the house was the mouth of the wild ravine of the "Spruce Run,"
the only pass through them for miles on either hand. This gorge, filled
with interlacing trees and closely-set thickets bordering the rapid
waters of the stream, afforded, in the days of Indian warfare, a choice
place of ambush; and on the occasion referred to, was selected by
the tory robbers, as the securest approach to the scene of their
depredations, and a safe place of concealment, for the day preceding
their descent upon "the Union." It was the Sabbath. Spies in advance,
whom the servants at the dairy recollected to have seen moving
stealthily about in the early dusk, reported to their accomplices, as
was afterwards learned, the retirement for the night of the workmen
to their quarters, and the departure of the overseer also to his home,
after having been to Mrs. Wilson, as accustomed, for instructions for
the following day. These could scarce have had time to fall asleep, when
the family, with some female friend, on a visit, enjoying the cool of
the evening in the porch of the principal building, were startled by the
sudden exclamation, in a suppressed but authoritative tone: "Surround
the house! Close in!" While from either side some twenty or thirty
men, disguised with paint and charcoal, and armed with various weapons,
rushed upon them. Silence was enjoined on pain of death, and inquiry
made for Colonel Stewart. They evidently supposed him to be at home, and
his capture if not assassination, was doubtless a chief object in their
plans. But he had been summoned away by express, and accompanied by
General Lincoln, had left for Philadelphia, with a large amount of
public funds at a late hour the day before. Being assured of this,
the ring-leaders approached Mr. Charles Stewart, the eldest son of the
Colonel, and a son-in-law, the late Judge Wilson of Landsdown, both
young men some twenty years of age and the only gentlemen of the party,
saying, "you are our prisoners;" and demanded their purses and watches.
Young Wilson, somewhat recovered from the first surprise, and his Irish
blood inflamed by the indignity, replied, "I would like, to know who
the d------l you are, first!" when he instantly received a severe stroke
across the head with a sword or sabre, laying open his forehead from
temple to temple. A pistol was immediately afterwards placed at the
breast of young Stewart, because he hesitated, after delivering his
purse, to yield up his watch, the dying gift of his mother. Mrs. Wilson
in alarm for her brother rushed forward, promising, if life and further
bloodshed were spared, the money and every thing valuable in the house
should be delivered up. Upon this she was ordered with her brother,
to show two of the gang to her father's apartments. Here, besides a
considerable amount in specie, they secured four thousand dollars in
current bills, while another package containing the same amount, being
placed among some wearing apparel, escaped their notice. In addition
to this money, a large amount of silver plate, a quantity of valuable
linen, every article of gentlemen's apparel in the house, three watches,
Colonel Stewart's sword and a pair of superb pistols, with heavy
mountings of solid silver beautifully and elaborately wrought, a present
of friendship from Baron Steuben, were among the booty secured.

The pistols thus lost, brought from Europe by the Baron, had been
carried by him through the war. The circumstances under which they were
presented to Colonel Stewart are honorable alike to the generous spirit
both of himself and friend, and deserve a record.

After the capture of Yorktown, the superior officers of the American
army, together with their allies, vied with each other in acts of
civility and attention to the captive Britons. Entertainments were given
to them by all the Major Generals except the Baron Steuben. He was above
prejudice or meanness, but poverty prevented him from displaying that
liberality which had been shown by others. Such was his situation,
when calling on Colonel Stewart, and informing him of his intention to
entertain Lord Cornwallis, he requested that he would furnish him the
money necessary for this purpose, as the price of his favorite charger.
"Tis a good beast," said the Baron, "and has proved a faithful servant
through all the dangers of the war: but, though painful to my heart, we
must part." Colonel Stewart immediately tendering his purse, recommended
the sale or pledge of his watch should the sum it contained prove
insufficient. "My dear friend," replied the Baron, "'tis already sold.
Poor North was sick and wanted necessaries. He is a brave fellow and
possesses the best of hearts. The trifle it brought is set apart for
his use. So, say no more--my horse must go." To the purchase, however,
Colonel Stewart would not listen; and having pressed upon the Baron the
means requisite for his purpose, received from him in acknowledgment of
his friendship the pistols above referred to. It was to expenditures of
this kind, it is probable, that the generous-hearted soldier and patriot
alluded, when as he first met his daughter after this decisive crisis
in the Revolution, he exclaimed--"Well, Martha, my dear, I come to you a
thousand dollars out of pocket by the surrender of Yorktown. But I care
not. Thank God! the struggle is over and my country is free!"

Three hours were spent by the leaders of the banditti in ransacking the
dwelling under the forced guidance of Mrs. Wilson and her brother. The
others, relieving each other in standing guard outside, and over the
rest of the family, refreshed themselves abundantly from the store-rooms
and cellars which the servants were compelled to throw open to them.
Mrs. Wilson at last ventured the request that they would leave, as
her brother-in-law, Mr. Wilson, ill from loss of blood, required
her attention. During the whole time she had been treated with great
deference and respect; so much so as to have been asked by the leaders
as they passed over the house, to point out what belonged to her
personally, that it might be left in her possession. On preparing to
depart, they took the whole family to an upper room, and extorting a
promise from Mrs. Wilson that no one should attempt to leave it within
two hours, fastened them in. The staircases were then closely barricaded
with tables, chairs and every kind of furniture, the windows and doors
firmly fastened, the lights all extinguished, the front door locked,
and the key thrown among the grass and shrubbery in the courtyard. The
jingling of the plate in the bags in which it was carried off, could be
heard for some time, and marked the rapidity of their flight when once
started with their booty. The gentlemen, not regarding Mrs. Wilson's
promise as of any binding force, insisted upon an immediate alarm of
the workmen and neighborhood. But the difficulty of making a way out was
such that they were long in accomplishing it. By daybreak, however, some
three hundred were in pursuit of the plunderers. Some of them were taken
on suspicion, but could not be fully identified on account of the paint
and disguises they had worn. The ring-leaders, Caleb and Isaac Sweezey,
and one Horton, all tories of the neighborhood, made their escape to New
York, and though known, were not heard of till after the evacuation of
the city by the British, when it was ascertained that they had purchased
a vessel with the proceeds of this robbery, and sailed for Nova Scotia.

Till the death of Colonel Stewart, in 1800, Mrs. Wilson continued at
the head of his family--the wise, benevolent, energetic and universally
admired manager of a house proverbial in her native State, and
extensively out of it, for generous and never changing hospitality.
Among the many guests entertained at the Union, General Maxwell was a
constant visitor. Mrs. Wilson expresses her regret that justice has not
yet been done, in a full biography, to this valued friend. "As a soldier
and patriot," is her testimony, "he had few superiors; and in integrity,
strength of mind, and kindness of heart--but few equals." She saw him
first in 1775, at a review of his regiment, the second raised in New
Jersey, Lord Stirling being the commander of the first. Her father was
intimately acquainted with him; he was ever a welcome guest, and after
the war, spent much of his time at their fireside. *

* It is unquestionably true that injustice has been done to this
officer--his merits and services never having been properly represented
before the public. In early life he was an officer in the Colonial
service; fought on the field of the Monongahela and in other battles;
and continuing in the army after the commencement of the Revolutionary
war, was one of the most prominent patriots in New Jersey. He was at
the storming of Quebec, and distinguished himself in the battles of
Brandywine, Germantown, Monmouth, etc., etc. In numerous letters and
journals of the day, testimony is borne to his high character and
services. Less than two years before the close of the war, he resigned
his commission in displeasure at the appointment over him of an inferior
officer. His death took place, probably in 1796, at the house of Colonel
Stewart. He had escorted the young ladies on a visit, from which the
whole party had returned early in the evening in fine spirits. The
Colonel and the General had sat down to their usual evening amusement
of backgammon, when Maxwell was suddenly taken ill. Supposing it to be
a headache, which he had never experienced before, he rose to retire to
his room. But the attack was fatal, and he expired about one o'clock
the same night. Expresses were sent for his brothers, one of whom was
an officer in the Revolution; but they did not arrive until some hours
after his death. His remains rest in the Presbyterian church-yard, at
Greenwich, Warren County, New Jersey.

For a period of near fifteen years after the death of Colonel Stewart,
much of the time of his daughter became necessarily devoted, as his sole
administratrix, to the settlement of a large and widely scattered landed
estate, including the disputed proprietorship of a portion of the valley
of Wyoming, which the business habits and energy of her father had
scarce disenthralled at his death from the effects of unavoidable
neglect and inattention during the discharge of his official duties in
the Revolution. The strength of mind, clearness of judgment, practical
knowledge, and firmness of purpose and character, witnessed in her by
much of the finest talent at the bar and on the bench, not only of New
Jersey, but of the adjoining States, in the legal investigations of
claims, and titles, and references, and arbitrations, were such as to
secure to her, in general estimation, a degree of respect for talent and
ability not often accorded to her sex.

Though thus for a long time placed in circumstances which tasked heavily
the energies both of body and of mind, she was ever prompt and true to
the discharge of the gentler and more feminine duties of life, to all
who had any possible claim upon her kindness and regard. Not long after
she had been called to the management of her father's estate, two orphan
sons of her brother were left in their childhood to her guardianship
and maternal care. Delicacy to Mrs. Wilson and to her correspondents
yet living, has forbidden an inquiry for any letters from her pen,
illustrating her character; but a series written by her to one of these
adopted sons * while a boy in school and college, shows so strikingly
the fidelity with which she discharged her trust, and at the same time
so clearly exhibits her own principles and views of character and life,
that I cannot forego the privilege granted me of making one or two
extracts.

* The Rev. C. S. Stewart--of the U. S. Navy--the distinguished
missionary, and author of "A Residence in the Sandwich Islands"--"Visit
to the South Seas," etc.

After pointing out some grammatical errors in a letter just received,
she thus writes:

"February 16th, 1811.

"It is not from any pleasure in finding fault that I point out these
errors; but from the sincere desire that you should be as perfect as
possible in every branch of education. Next to your being an honest and
virtuous man, I wish to see you the accomplished gentleman. You have
no better friend on earth than myself: regard, therefore, my advice.
Solomon says, 'A wise man will take counsel from a friend, but a fool
will despise it.' Prove yourself to be the former by putting in practice
all I say in reference to your mind, manners and morals. Let your
example to your brother, as the eldest, ever be such as to induce him
to look to you as a polar-star by which he may safely guide his own
conduct.

"Your desire to attend the birth-night ball, is neither improper nor
unnatural at your age. It is always a gratification to my heart to
promote, or be the means of promoting your innocent enjoyment, and
that which is esteemed pleasure in youth, when the indulgence is not
incompatible with your interest and honor, and not contrary to the rules
of the institution to which you belong. But I would by no means have you
forfeit a character for obedience and good order, with your tutors, for
the trifling gratification of a dance; and let it never be forgotten
by you that the reputation established by a boy at school and college,
whether it be of merit or demerit, will follow him through life. As to
your dress and manners, avoid as you would a pestilence those of a fop.
Be plain and simple in your apparel and modest and unassuming in your
address--respectful and courteous to all, but especially to the aged.
The wise and the well-bred will ever mete to you a just reward; for
nothing affords more pleasure to the good and truly great, while nothing
certainly is more prepossessing than a modest youth.

"You say that you have received much attention from the first
families in --------. Whatever company you do keep, should ever be the
first--that is, the wisest and the best; but for the present, the less
time you spend in society of any kind the better. Close attention to
your studies, in the acquisition of a solid and polished education, will
yield you a larger profit. Be particular in the intimacies formed with
your schoolmates. Boys of good family and good breeding are always to
be preferred as companions, if their principles and conduct are
praiseworthy. But where this is not the case, those morally good, though
destitute of such advantages, are to be chosen as more worthy of your
regard and friendship.

"I again commend you to the care of Heaven. May the Almighty guide
and shield you--preserving you from temptation and delivering you when
tempted."

In a letter written shortly afterwards, she says:

"B------ has read to me a paragraph from a letter just received, in
which it is stated that you are one of the most studious and best
scholars in --------. If you knew how gratifying to my heart this
intelligence is, it would, I am sure, inspire you with the love of
honest fame. Go on, my dear boy, as you have begun, and you will
attain all that is most desirable and most valuable in this world--the
character and position of a good and wise man, useful, beloved, and
honored in your generation. True, there is no near male friend in your
family to extend a fostering hand to you and lead you onward to fame and
fortune. Let not this circumstance, however, discourage you, but rather
let it stimulate you to fresh industry and exertion. A faithful use of
the means in your power will insure to you the desired result. But ever
remember that in this more even will depend on your moral conduct as
a man and gentleman than on your mental accomplishments. There is
much even in external manner--more than many wise people think; and
a gentlemanlike deportment, accompanied by honest candor, strict
integrity, and undeviating truth will secure more respect and esteem
for you in youth, as well as in after age, than any degree of talent,
however brilliant, possibly can without them."

When, some three years afterwards, the same relative had commenced his
collegiate course, she thus writes, under the date of May 31st, 1814:

"I am happy to learn that you have received so much kindness from so
many friends. Be mindful of their civilities and ever prove yourself
worthy of them. I confess I have been greatly gratified in hearing from
many quarters such flattering reports of your good conduct and success
in study. Press forward, my dear son, in the ways of wisdom--they are
ways of pleasantness, and their end is peace. Industry is the handmaid
of good fortune; and always keep it in mind, that persevering assiduity
will surely accomplish for you all that is desirable in this world.
Under this conviction, which is certainly a truth, let no trivial
obstacle you may occasionally meet discourage your efforts or impede
your progress. You have gained considerable distinction in your career
thus far;--never rest satisfied short of the first honors of the
institution you have now entered.

"Your advantages for the study of composition and oratory have not been,
I fear, as good heretofore as I could have wished. Let these important
branches now engage much of your attention; you cannot excel in either
of the leading professions without them. If you would become a wise man,
a variety of reading from the best authors, both ancient and modern,
must also be added to your attainments in college studies. Acquire, too,
a habit of observation on men and manners, without which you can never
secure the knowledge of the world essential to success in practical
life. Political knowledge, also, is absolutely indispensable to the
attainment in our country of a conspicuous and influential position, at
which I trust you will aim; pay attention, therefore, to the passing
events of the day and to the information to be derived from the best
conducted public prints. Man can do much for himself as respects his own
improvement, unless selflove so blinds him that he cannot see his own
imperfections and weaknesses. Some of the most finished characters, in
all ages, of which the world can boast, are those who found the greatest
difficulty in controlling their natural propensities, but whose
persevering efforts caused even bad habits to give place to the most
graceful accomplishments. Above all, my dear son, take care of your
morals. All I ever say to you proceeds from the sincerest affection and
the deepest anxiety for your success and happiness in life. Keep
yourself for the future, as you have for the past, as far as possible
from unprincipled young men, many of whom you will everywhere find
around you. Treat your tutors and professors with the respect to which
they are entitled, and conform promptly and strictly to the discipline
and usages of the college. If ever tempted to a different course, resist
the evil. The exercise of a little self-denial for the time will be
followed by the pleasure of having achieved the greatest of triumphs--a
triumph over one's self.

"I cheer myself daily with thoughts of your constant improvement in
everything calculated to be useful and honorable to yourself, and
gratifying to your friends. May God ever bless and keep you."

One additional extract from a letter to the same individual, written
while he was still in college, under the date of March 20th, 1815,
presents briefly, but clearly, the sentiments and feelings of Mrs.
Wilson, on the most important of all subjects--that of personal and
experimental piety.

"Your last letter," she writes, "gave me more pleasure than any one I
have ever received from you. I cannot be too thankful to that great and
good Being who, in infinite mercy, hath opened your eyes to see
yourself spiritually as you are--a guilty sinner, in need of a better
righteousness than your own, to appear acceptably in His sight.
Believers, even as others, are by nature dead in trespasses and sins;
but by faith in the Son of God--derived from him alone--they arise
to newness of life, and become heirs of eternal glory. The blessed
assurance is, 'Because I live, ye shall live also.' Live in life, and
live for ever.

"I doubt not that your views of the world, and the things pertaining
to it, as well as of yourself, are different from what they ever were
before. You see and feel that to the renewed soul, all things, in
comparison with 'Christ and Him crucified,' are of small consideration.
Since God has been pleased to impress your soul with a sense of His
divine perfections, of the depravity of your nature, and of the riches
of His grace, be watchful, my dear son, and continue instant in prayer.
Confident that the life of a sincere Christian will ever be your highest
honor, on this subject regard neither the smiles nor frowns of the
world--neither its fashions nor its favors. I have often thought of
you with much satisfaction, in the belief that you would prove yourself
worthy of my warmest and sincerest affection; but the possession of
the finest talents, such as would command the applause of a vain world,
attended with the most brilliant success, could never give me half the
happiness of an assurance that you were truly a pious man. I could write
much upon this interesting and sublime subject, but the necessity of
preparing several letters for the present mail, obliges me to close with
my blessing."

Mrs. Wilson herself became interested in the subject of personal and
practical piety in early youth, and made a profession of her faith, at
the time, in the Presbyterian church of Bethlehem, New Jersey,' of
which her grandfather, Judge Johnston, was the founder and chief patron
through life. Her example as a Christian has ever been in harmony
with the leading traits of her character--consistent, energetic,
decisive--abounding in charities, and full of good works. In religion,
as in intellectual advancement, she has kept pace in spirit and active
zeal with the enlarged benevolence and expanding enterprise of the
passing age; and though now in her ninetieth year, not only by her
subscriptions and her prayers, but often by her personal presence and
aid, still cheers the ladies of her neighborhood in their associations
for purposes of local and general benevolence and piety.

The marriage of her only daughter and child in 1802, to the late John
M. Bowers, Esq., of Bowers-town, county of Otsego, New York, led Mrs.
Wilson, in 1808, to change her home from Flemington, New Jersey, to
Cooperstown, New York, in which village for a long period afterwards,
she, at different times occupied her own dwelling; but now for many
years she has lived exclusively at the Lakelands, the beautiful
residence of her daughter, in the immediate vicinity of that place.
Here, respected and honored by all who know her, and reposing in the
affections of a devoted household, with the blessings of unnumbered
poor--the widow, the orphan, the destitute and friendless of every
name--descending like dews of Hermon on her head, she cheerfully awaits
the change when the "corruptible shall put on incorruption, and the
mortal put on IMMORTALITY."



XXIX. REBECCA MOTTE.

[Illustration: 0100]

|Fort Motte, the scene of the occurrence which so strikingly displayed
the patriotism of one of South Carolina's daughters, stood on the
south side of the Congaree river. The height commands a beautiful view,
several miles in extent, of sloping fields, sprinkled with young pines,
and green with broom grass or the corn or cotton crops; of sheltered
valleys and wooded hills, with the dark pine ridge defined against the
sky. The steep overlooks the swamp land through which the river flows;
and that may be seen to a great distance, winding, like a bright thread,
between the sombre forests.

After the abandonment of Camden to the Americans, Lord Rawdon, anxious
to maintain his posts, directed his first effort to relieve Fort Motte,
at the time invested by Marion and Lee. * This fort, which commanded
the river, was the principal depot of were entertained at her luxurious
table, she had attended with active benevolence to the sick and wounded,
soothed the infirm with kind sympathy, and animated the desponding to
hope. It was thus not without deep regret that the commanders determined
on the sacrifice, and the Lieutenant Colonel found himself compelled to
inform Mrs. Motte of the unavoidable necessity of the destruction of her
property.

* Ramsay's History of South Carolina: Moultrie's Memoirs? Lee's Memoirs
of the War in the Southern Department, etc.

The smile with which the communication was received, gave instant relief
to the embarrassed officer. Mrs. Motte not only assented, but declared
that she was "gratified with the opportunity of contributing to the good
of her country, and should view the approaching scene with delight."
Shortly after, seeing by accident the bow and arrows which had been
prepared to carry combustible matter, she sent for Lee, and presenting
him with a bow and its apparatus, which had been imported from India,
requested his substitution of them, as better adapted for the object
than those provided.

Every thing was now prepared for the concluding scene. The lines were
manned, and an additional force stationed at the battery, to meet a
desperate assault, if such should be made. The American entrenchments
being within arrow shot, M'Pherson was once more summoned, and again
more confidently--for help was at hand--asserted his determination to
resist to the last.

The scorching rays of the noon-day sun had prepared the shingle roof for
the conflagration. The return of the flag was immediately followed
by the shooting of the arrows, to which balls of blazing rosin and
brimstone were attached. Simms tells us the bow was put into the hands
of Nathan Savage, a private in Marion's brigade. The first struck, and
set fire; also the second and third, in different quarters of the roof.
M'Pherson immediately ordered men to repair to the loft of the house,
and check the flames by knocking off the shingles; but they were soon
driven down by the fire of the six pounder; and no other effort to stop
the burning being practicable, the commandant hung out the white flag,
and surrendered the garrison at discretion.

If ever a situation in real life afforded a fit subject for poetry, by
filling the mind with a sense of moral grandeur--it was that of Mrs.
Motte contemplating the spectacle of her home in flames, and rejoicing
in the triumph secured to her countrymen--the benefit to her native
land, by her surrender of her own interest to the public service. I have
stood upon the spot, and felt that it was indeed classic ground, and
consecrated by memories which should thrill the heart of every American.
But the beauty of such memories would be marred by the least attempt at
ornament; and the simple narrative of that memorable occurrence has more
effect to stir the feelings than could a tale artistically framed and
glowing with the richest hues of imagination.

After the captors had taken possession, M'Pherson and his officers
accompanied them to Mrs. Motte's dwelling, where they sat down together
to a sumptuous dinner. Again, in the softened picture, our heroine is
the principal figure. She showed herself prepared, not only to give up
her splendid mansion to ensure victory to the American arms, but to do
her part towards soothing the agitation of the conflict just ended. Her
dignified, courteous, and affable deportment adorned the hospitality of
her table; she did the honors with that unaffected politeness which wins
esteem as well as admiration; and by her conversation, marked with
ease, vivacity and good sense, and the engaging kindness of her manners,
endeavored to obliterate the recollection of the loss she had been
called upon to sustain, and at the same time to remove from the minds of
the prisoners the sense of their misfortune.

To the effect of this grace and gentle kindness, is doubtless due much
of the generosity exercised by the victors towards those who, according
to strict rule, had no right to expect mercy. While at the table, "it
was whispered in Marion's ear that Colonel Lee's men were even then
engaged in hanging certain of the tory prisoners. Marion instantly
hurried from the table, seized his sword, and running with all haste,
reached the place of execution in time to rescue one poor wretch from
the gallows. Two were already beyond rescue or recovery. With drawn
sword, and a degree of indignation in his countenance that spoke more
than words, Marion threatened to kill the first man that made any
further attempt in such diabolical proceedings." *

* Simms' Life of Marion, p. 239.

Other incidents in the life of Mrs. Motte, illustrate the same rare
energy and firmness of character she evinced on this occasion, with the
same disinterested devotion to the American cause. When an attack upon
Charleston was apprehended, and every man able to render service was
summoned to aid in throwing up intrenchments for the defence of the
city, Mrs. Motte, who had lost her husband at an early period of the
war, and had no son to perform his duty to the country, despatched a
messenger to her plantation, and ordered down to Charleston every male
slave capable of work. Providing each, at her own expense, with proper
implements, and a soldier's rations, she placed them at the disposal of
the officer in command. The value of this unexpected aid was enhanced by
the spirit which prompted the patriotic offer.

At different times it was her lot to encounter the presence of the
enemy. Surprised by the British at one of her country residences on the
Santee, her son-in-law, General Pinckney, who happened to be with her at
the time, barely escaped capture by taking refuge in the swamps. It
was to avoid such annoyances that she removed to "Buckhead," afterwards
called Fort Motte, the neighborhood of which in time became the scene of
active operations.

When the British took possession of Charleston, the house in which
she resided--still one of the finest in the city--was selected as the
head-quarters of Colonels Tarleton and Balfour. From this abode she
determined not to be driven; and presided daily at the head of her own
table, with a company of thirty British officers. The duties forced upon
her were discharged with dignity and grace, while she always replied
with becoming spirit to the discourteous taunts frequently uttered in
her presence, against her "rebel countrymen." In many scenes of danger
and disaster was her fortitude put to the test; yet through all, this
noble-spirited woman regarded not her own advantage, hesitating at no
sacrifice of her convenience or interest, to promote the general good.

One portion of her history--illustrating her singular energy,
resolution, and strength of principle-should be recorded. During
the struggle, her husband had become deeply involved by securities
undertaken for his friends. The distracted state of the country--the
pursuits of business being for a long time suspended,--plunged many
into embarrassment; and after the termination of the war, it was found
impossible to satisfy these claims. The widow, however, considered the
honor of her deceased husband involved in the responsibilities he had
assumed. She determined to devote the remainder of her life to the
honorable task of paying the debts. Her friends and connections, whose
acquaintance with her affairs gave weight to their judgment, warned her
of the apparent hopelessness of such an effort. But, steadfast in the
principles that governed all her conduct, she persevered; induced a
friend to purchase for her, on credit, a valuable body of rice-land,
then an uncleared swamp--on the Santee--built houses for the negroes,
who constituted nearly all her available property--even that being
encumbered with claims--and took up her own abode on the new plantation.
Living in an humble dwelling--and relinquishing many of her habitual
comforts--she devoted herself with such zeal, untiring industry, and
indomitable resolution to the attainment of her object, that her success
triumphed over every difficulty, and exceeded the expectations of all
who had discouraged her. She not only paid her husband's debts to
the full, but secured for her children and descendants a handsome and
unincumbered estate. Such an example of perseverance under adverse
circumstances, for the accomplishment of a high and noble purpose,
exhibits in yet brighter colors the heroism that shone in her country's
days of peril!

In the retirement of Mrs. Motte's life after the war, her virtues and
usefulness were best appreciated by those who knew her intimately, or
lived in her house. By them her society and conversation were felt to
be a valued privilege. She was accustomed to amuse and instruct her
domestic circle with various interesting anecdotes of persons and
events; the recollection of which, however, at this distant period,
is too vague to be relied on for a record. The few particulars here
mentioned were received from her descendants.

She was the daughter of Robert Brewton, an English gentleman, who
emigrated to South Carolina, and settled in Charleston before the war.
Her mother was a native of Ireland, and married Mr. Brewton after her
removal to this country, leaving at her death three children--Miles,
Frances, and Rebecca. Miles Brewton took part with the first abettors of
resistance to British oppression; and their consultations were held at
his house in Charleston. Early in the war he was drowned on his way
to England with his family, whom he intended to leave there, while he
should return to take part with the patriots.

Rebecca Brewton was born on the 28th June, 1738. * She married Jacob
Motte ** in 1758, and was the mother of six children, only three of whom
lived to maturity. General Thomas Pinckney married in succession the
two elder daughters. *** The third surviving daughter was married to the
late Colonel William. Alston, of Charleston. By the children of these,
whose families are among the most distinguished in the State, the memory
of their ancestor is cherished with pride and affection. Her fame is,
indeed, a rich inheritance; for of one like her the land of her birth
may well be proud!

* The dates are taken from the family Bible, recorded in Mrs. Motte's
own hand-writing.

** A celebrated writer informs me that the name is French, and was
originally spelled 'Mothè.

*** It was the wife of Thomas Pinckney who dressed his wounds after
the battle of Camden, with her own hands, and fainted when the task was
over.

Mrs. Motte died in 1815, at her plantation on the Santee. The portrait
from which the engraving is taken is said to be an excellent likeness.

Some facts related to Major Garden by Mrs. Brew-ton, who was an inmate
of Mrs. Motte's family at the time of the destruction of her house,
are interesting in this connection. She stated that Mrs. Motte and her
family had been allowed to occupy an apartment in the mansion while the
American forces were at a distance; but when the troops drew near, were
ordered to remove immediately. As they were going, Mrs. Brewton took up
the quiver of arrows, and said to her friend that she would take those
with her, to prevent their being destroyed by the soldiers. She was
passing the gate with the quiver in her hands, when M'Pherson asked what
she had there, at the same time drawing forth a shaft, and applying the
point to his finger. She sportively bade him be careful, "for the arrows
were poisoned;" and the ladies then passed on to the farm-house where
they were to take up their abode.

On several occasions Mrs. Brewton incurred the enmity of the British
officers by her lively sallies, which were sometimes pointed with
severity. Before the siege of Fort Motte, a tory ensign had frequently
amused himself, and provoked the ladies, by taunts levelled against the
whigs, sometimes giving the names of the prominent commanders to pine
saplings, while he struck off their heads with his weapon. After the
surrender, Mrs. Brewton was cruel enough, meeting this young man on
the spot where he had uttered these bravadoes, to request, sportively,
another exhibition of his prowess, and regret that the loss of his sword
did not permit him to gratify her.

Not long after this, Mrs. Brewton obtained permission to go to
Charleston. An officer in the city inquiring the news from the country,
she answered "that all nature smiled, for every thing was _Greene_,
down to Monk's Corner." This _bon mot_ was noticed by an order for her
immediate departure; she was obliged to leave the city at a late hour,
but permitted to return the following day. Her ready wit procured her
still further ill-will. An officer going into the country offered to
take charge of letters to her friends. She replied, "I should like
to write, but have no idea of having my letters read at the head of
Marion's brigade." The officer returned in a few days on parole, having
been taken prisoner by Marion, and called to pay his thanks, as he said,
to her for having communicated the intelligence of his movements.

The society of this sprightly and fascinating widow appears to have been
much sought by the more cultivated among the British, who enjoyed her
brilliant conversation, while they winced under her sarcasm. One day
when walking in Broad street, wearing deep mourning, according to the
custom of the whig ladies, she was joined by an English officer. They
were passing the house of Governor Rutledge, then occupied by Colonel
Moncrief, when taking a piece of crape that had been accidently torn
from the flounce of her dress, she tied it to the front railing,
expressing at the same time her sorrow for the Governor's absence,
and her opinion that his house, as well as his friends, ought to wear
mourning. It was but a few hours after this act of daring, that the
patriotic lady was arrested and sent to Philadelphia.

* Note.--Mrs. Motte's arrows, which have become so famous in history,
had been given as a curiosity--being poisoned--by an East India
captain to her brother, Miles Brewton. After his loss at sea, they were
accidentally put among some household articles belonging to Mrs. Motte,
and in her several removals for quiet and security, chanced to be taken
to "Buckhead" in the hurried transportation of her effects.




XXX. SUSANNAH ELLIOTT.

|The presentation of a pair of colors, by the wife of Colonel Barnard
Elliott, is mentioned in several historical works. They were presented
to the second South Carolina regiment of infantry, commanded by
Colonel Moultrie,--on the third day after the attack on Fort Moultrie,
Sullivan's Island, which took place June 28th, 1776. These colors were
very elegant, and both richly embroidered by Mrs. Elliott's own hand.
One was of fine blue, the other of red silk. They were presented with
these words: "Your gallant behavior in defence of liberty and your
country, entitles you to the highest honors; accept these two standards
as a reward justly due to your regiment; and I make not the least doubt,
under Heaven's protection, you will stand by them as long as they can
wave in the air of liberty." *

* Moultrie's Memoirs; Ramsay's History of South Carolina; McCall's
History of Georgia.

The colors having been received from the lady's hands by the Colonel and
Lieutenant Colonel, she was thanked for the gift--and a promise was
made by the Colonel in the name of the soldiers--that they should be
honorably supported, and never tarnished by the second regiment. Never
was pledge more nobly fulfilled. Three years afterwards, they were
planted on the British lines at Savannah. Two officers, who bore them,
lost their lives; and just before the retreat was ordered, the gallant
Sergeant Jasper, in planting them on the works, received a mortal wound
and fell into the ditch. One of the standards was brought off in the
retreat; and Jasper succeeded in regaining the American camp. In his
last moments he said to Major Horry, who had called to see him--"Tell
Mrs. Elliott I lost my life supporting the colors she presented to our
regiment." The colors were afterwards taken at the fall of Charleston,
and were deposited in the Tower of London.

The maiden name of Mrs. Barnard Elliott was Susannah Smith. She was a
native of South Carolina, and the daughter of Benjamin Smith, for many
years Speaker of the Assembly of the province. Left young an orphan and
an heiress, she was brought up by her aunt, Mrs. Rebecca Motte, with
whom she lived till her marriage. Mrs. Daniel Hall used to say she was
"one of the most busy among the Revolutionary women, and always active
among the soldiers." It is known that her husband raised and maintained
a regiment at his own expense. Among the papers in the possession of the
family is a letter from General Greene to Mrs. Elliott, expressive of
high respect and regard, offering her a safe escort through the camp,
and to any part of the country to which she might desire to travel.

While at her plantation called "The Hut," she had three American
gentlemen as guests in the house. Surprised one day by the sudden
approach of the British, she hurried them into a closet, and opening a
secret door, disclosed a large opening back of the chimney, known only
to herself, and contrived for a hiding-place. Two entered; but the third
determined to trust to the fleetness of his horse, and his knowledge
of the woods. In leaping a fence he was overtaken, and cut down within
sight of the house.

This was searched thoroughly for the others; but no threats could
induce Mrs. Elliott to reveal their place of retreat. The officers then
demanded her silver; and pointing to some mounds of earth not far off,
asked if the plate was buried there. Mrs. Elliott replied that those
mounds were the graves of British soldiers who had died at her house.
Not believing her, they ordered two of the soldiers to dig and see. The
coffin in one of the graves was soon disinterred; and on opening it
the truth was at once made manifest. After the men had taken their
departure, Mrs. Elliott released her two guests. The silver had been put
in a trunk and buried in the marsh by a faithful servant, who after the
close of the war came to Mrs. Elliott's son, requested assistance to dig
for it, and brought it out safe, though perfectly blackened.

Mrs. Elliott was beautiful in person, with a countenance inexpressibly
soft and sweet. Her portrait is in the possession of the family, defaced
by the act of a British soldier--a small sword having been run through
one eye. Her descendants reside in Charleston, and in other parts of the
State.

A Revolutionary _jeu d'esprit_ sent me by a friend in Charleston,
containing allusions to some of the prominent whig ladies, mentions the
name of Mrs. Elliott. It is a letter from Major Barry to "Mrs. G." and
was found copied in the hand-writing of Bishop Smith. It appears to be a
burlesque dedication of a poem, which unfortunately has not descended
to posterity. It is somewhat curious to observe how the writer, with
playful sarcasm, characterizes women of the opposite party, while
seeking one who might fitly matronize his offspring.

"The feathers which bedeck the head of Mrs. Ferguson for a moment
attracted my attention, but right fearful was I lest the critics and
poetasters of this age might infer a light foundation from so airy a
superstructure; which most sorrowful event might at once overthrow both
the patronized and patronizer.

"Mrs. Savage and Mrs. Parsons called vociferously for notice; but their
zeal so shook the dagger and the bowl in their hands, that I deemed them
unfit for the calm dignity of the tragic scene. Too much mildness, on
the other hand, superseded the veteran Mrs. Pinckney, when I beheld
her smiling, sliding, gliding advance to meet the commissioners of
sequestration. As for Mrs. Charles Elliott, she is only allied to
such exalted spirits by the zeal of party--perhaps in her case the
too exuberant emanation of a delicate and susceptible mind. And as the
banners in the hand of Mrs. Barnard Elliott waved but for a moment,
flimsy as the words that presented them, so slight a triumph could not
entitle her to fame so pre-eminent as this. 'Tis in you alone,
madam, we view united every concomitant for this most eminent
distinction--qualities which receive addition, if addition they can
have, from the veteran and rooted honors of that exalted character, the
General--a character allied to you by all the warm as well as tender
ties. It is with pleasure I ever view the _Wharf and Bridge_, those
works of his hands, which stand, like the boasted independence of your
country, the crumbling monuments of his august repute. With what rapture
do I behold him, in the obscure recesses of St. Augustine, attracting
the notice of all mankind, and, as he traverses the promised land,
planting deep in Hebrew ground the roots of everlasting fame, etc."

Although not active in political affairs, the patriotic feeling and
secluded, yet picturesque life of _Sabina Elliott_, passed in the
exercise of the domestic and Christian virtues, was not without its
influence. By the early death of her parents, she was left in her eighth
year, the eldest of several daughters, dependent on their relatives; and
was brought up by an aunt. Her personal beauty was remarkable; and when
she was about fourteen, arrested the attention of William Elliott, a
wealthy widower, who had been twice married, but had no children. He saw
her accidentally in the street, dressed in coarse apparel, and
carrying a pitcher of water into the house; and deeply impressed by her
appearance, sought an early introduction to the aunt, and soon after
married the object of his admiration. He then procured masters for
her and her sisters, whom he took home and educated. All, except one,
married from his house.

When Mrs. Elliott was about twenty-eight, the sad event took place which
cast a blight on her life. Her husband riding one day over his rice
fields, on a low horse he commonly used, struck with his whip a dog
lying by the roadside. The animal sprang upon him and tore his cheek.
It was discovered soon after to be mad; and Mr. Elliott calmly made
preparations to meet his terrible and inevitable fate. So fearful was he
that in the paroxysms of the disease he might injure some of his family,
that he strictly commanded two of his stoutest men servants to bind him
hand and foot upon the first symptom. At the end of forty days he died
of hydrophobia.

The grief caused by this misfortune, and the loss of three children,
permanently impaired Mrs. Elliott's health. Two daughters remained to
her; the eldest married Daniel Huger; Ann, the youngest, was united, at
the close of the war, to Colonel Lewis Morris, aid-de-camp to General
Greene, and eldest son of Lewis Morris, of Morrisania, one of the
signers of the Declaration of Independence.

Mrs. Elliott employed herself constantly in useful domestic occupations;
and was remarkable for industry and economy of time. She superintended
the manufacture of the wool and cotton worn by her slaves, to whom she
was most kind and indulgent; and made salt on her plantation during
the war. Some of the stockings knit by her are still extant--having the
date, 1776, knit in the threads.

Garden relates a pleasant anecdote of her wit. A British officer having
ordered the plundering of her poultry houses, she afterwards observed,
straying about the premises, an old muscovy drake, which had escaped the
general search. She had him caught, and mounting a servant on horseback,
ordered him to follow and deliver the bird to the officer with her
compliments; as she concluded that in the hurry of departure, it had
been left altogether by accident.

She took particular delight in improving the family seat, Accabee,
seven miles from Charleston. This place, mentioned in history, was
noted during the war as a place of refuge; being unmolested because
its mistress had no male relative to be obnoxious to the British. The
mansion was of brick, solidly built; with a piazza in front, and a
garden and lawn extending to the Ashley river. The grounds were covered
with grass, on which the sheep owned by Mrs. Elliott might be seen lying
under the magnificent live oaks decorated with the floating, silvery
moss so beautiful in the low country. The graceful fringe tree and
magnolia grandiflora, with other ornamental trees, grew in clumps in
front and on either side. In the rear, a portico looked on an avenue of
flowering locusts, nearly a mile in length. A circular stairs ascended
from the spacious hall to Mrs. Elliott's study. This beautiful country
seat--now in ruins--was the usual residence of Mrs. Elliott in the
spring months; the summers being spent at Johnson's Fort, on John's
Island. It was there that she died.

_Ann Elliott_, the wife of Lewis Morris, was born at Accabee. In
Charleston, while the city was occupied by the British, she wore
a bonnet decorated with thirteen small plumes, as a token of her
attachment to republican principles; and for her patriotic spirit,
was called "the beautiful rebel." Kosciusko was her admirer and
correspondent. An English officer--the second son of a noble family--who
was billeted upon her mother, became so enamored of her that he sought
the good offices of one of her female friends to intercede in his
behalf; and even offered, if she would favor him, to join the Americans.
Miss Elliott bade her friend say to him in reply, that to her former
want of esteem, was added scorn for a man capable of betraying his
sovereign for selfish interest. She had before declined the gift of a
splendid English saddle-horse, of which he wished her acceptance. She
would not attend church, as she had been accustomed, in Charleston,
while prayers were offered there for the success of the British arms;
preferring to join in the service read at her mother's house, where
petitions were put up for the downfall of the invaders.

At one time, while Colonel Morris, to whom she was then engaged, was on
a visit to her at Accabee, the attention of the family was drawn to
the windows by an unusual noise, and they perceived that the house was
surrounded by the Black Dragoons, in search of the young officer, who
had no time to escape. Ann went to one of the windows, opened it, and
presenting herself to the view of the dragoons, demanded what they
wanted. "We want the ------ rebel!" was the reply. "Go and look for him
in the American army!" answered the young girl. "How dare you disturb a
family under the protection of both armies?" Her firmness and resolution
conquered; and the enemy departed without further molestation.

Colonel and Mrs. Morris owned, among other possessions, a cotton
plantation on the Edisto River, about four miles from Charleston, called
the Round O, which is mentioned in Lee's Southern War. They had also a
residence upon Sullivan's Island. In September of one year there was so
severe a gale that several houses were blown down. The house of Colonel
Morris, which stood on a narrow part of the island, was undermined by
the advance of the tide. There was only time to remove the family to a
neighbor's, when the house fell, overthrown by the assault of wind and
waves.

Mrs. Lewis Morris was one of the belles distinguished at the levees of
the first President. Her residence during the last years of her life,
was in Morrisania. She died in New York the 29th of April, 1848, at the
age of eighty-six.

The incident of Jane Elliott's first acquaintance with her husband might
adorn a chapter in the romance of the real. She was the only child of
Charles Elliott, of St. Paul's parish--a staunch whig in principle, who
exhibited his devotion to the cause by equipping a considerable body of
troops at his own expense; but fell a victim to disease ere the war
had been waged in Carolina. His daughter having imbibed his opinions,
endeavored to serve the cause he had espoused, by the bestowal of a
portion of her wealth for the relief of the wounded American soldiers,
and to contribute to the establishment of hospitals for that purpose.
Not satisfied with this substantial aid, Miss Elliott gave her personal
supervision to certain wards in the hospital, which she visited to
attend to the sufferers. It was on one of these ministering visits
that she first saw Colonel Washington, who had been wounded and taken
prisoner in the cavalry charge at Eutaw Springs, and sent to Charleston
for surgical aid, and for safe keeping. The interest with which the
young girl heard the story of his perils, the sympathy given to his
misfortunes, and the gratitude and admiration of the brave young
soldier, may all be imagined, as leading to the reciprocal sentiment
that soon grew up between them. Miss Elliott was then in the early bloom
of youth, and surpassingly beautiful. Her manners were dignified, yet
gentle and winning; her perceptions quick, and her nature frank and
generous. Homage had been paid to her charms by the conquerors, from
which she turned to succor the defenders of her country. Major Barry,
whose pen seems to have celebrated the charms of many rebel fair ones,
addressed a poem "to Jane Elliott playing the guitar," which was lately
found in the ruins of Accabee by a daughter of Mrs. Lewis Morris. These
lines may serve as a specimen:=

```"Sweet harmonist! whom nature triply arms

```With virtue, beauty, music's powerful charms,--

```Say, why combin'd, when each resistless power

```Might mark its conquest to the fleeting hour?"

Colonel Washington was a gallant officer, imbued with the chivalric
feeling of that period, ardent in patriotism, and covered with the
brilliant renown of a successful soldier. It was not strange that two so
congenial should love each other, and become bound by a mutual pledge
to unite their fortunes; but the marriage did not take place till the
spring of 1782. With the return of peace the soldier exchanged
the fatigues of the camp for the quiet avocations of the planter,
establishing himself at the family-seat of his wife, at Sandy Hill,
South Carolina. They had two children; one of whom, a daughter, is yet
living. Mrs. Washington survived her husband about twenty years, and
died in 1830, at the age of sixty-six.

_Anna,_ the wife of Charles Elliott, was a patriot by inheritance, being
the daughter of Thomas Ferguson, one of the bravest and most zealous
among the friends of liberty. It was said of her that she "appeared to
consecrate every thought and every hour of existence to the interests of
America." She received under her hospitable roof the sick and wounded,
and gave them her personal attention and sympathy; she divided of her
substance among those who needed aid; she was the advocate and friend of
such as were unjustly persecuted. The prisoners she visited at regular
intervals received hope and strength from her presence, and were
beguiled into forgetfulness of their sufferings by her conversation. To
the afflicted she was indeed an angel of blessing; and even the enemies
of her country were influenced by the remarkable power of fascination
she possessed, which few, even the most harsh and unbending, could
resist. This was acknowledged in the most satisfactory way--the granting
of privileges and favors by many British officers. What she would not
have condescended to ask for herself, she solicited for the benefit of
her countrymen. Major Garden says: "I do not know an officer who did not
owe to her some essential increase of comfort." Yet her efforts in the
cause of justice and clemency were not always successful; she is said to
have drawn up the petition addressed to Lord Rawdon, and signed by the
ladies of Charleston, in behalf of the gallant and unfortunate Colonel
Isaac Hayne.

The following anecdote of Mrs. Elliott has been mentioned. An officer
of the royal army, noted for his cruelty and relentless persecution of
those opposed to his political views, was one day walking with her in a
garden where was a great variety of flowers. "What is this, madam?" he
asked, pointing to the chamomile. "The rebel flower," she replied.
"And why is it called the rebel flower?" asked the officer. "Because,"
answered Mrs. Elliott, "it always flourishes most when trampled upon."

One day an officer, in the house of Mrs. Elliott in Charleston, pointed
out to her a young French officer of the legion of Pulaski, passing by.
"There, Mrs. Elliott," he cried, "is one of your illustrious allies! He
has a fine form and martial appearance. What a pity the hero is minus
his _sword!_" She answered promptly and with spirit, "Had two thousand
such men been here to aid in the defence of our city, I should not
at this moment, sir, have been subjected to the insolence of your
observation."

Her impulsive and feeling nature is shown by another anecdote. When her
father was arrested and put on board a transport ship to be sent into
exile, Mrs. Elliott, who had received the intelligence in the country,
hastened to Charleston and solicited permission to bid him farewell.
Her request was granted. She went on board the vessel in which he was
a prisoner, but had scarcely entered the cabin, when, oppressed with
grief, she fainted, and was laid upon a couch. The captain, in alarm,
recommended a variety of remedies, and at last said "A cordial would
revive her; we have some fine French liqueur." On hearing this, Mrs.
Elliott sprang from her couch in sudden excitement. "The French!"
she exclaimed; "who speaks of the French? God bless the nation!" Then
turning to her father, she strove by her touching eloquence, to sustain
him under his misfortunes, and inspire him with hope for the future.
"Let not oppression shake your fortitude," she said, "nor the hope of
gentler treatment cause you for a moment to swerve from strict duty.
Better times are in store for us; the bravery of the Americans, and the
friendly aid of France, will yet achieve the deliverance of our country
from oppression. We shall meet again, my father, and meet with joy."

The historian Ramsay bears heart-warm testimony to the patriotism of the
Carolinian women, who gloried in being called "rebels;" and did their
utmost to support the fortitude of their relatives.

The wife of Isaac Holmes, one of the patriots sent into exile at St.
Augustine, sustained his firmness by her own resolution, to the moment
when the guard separated him from his family. Bidding him have no
fears for those he left, her parting injunction was, "Waver not in your
principles, but be true to your country."

When the sons of Rebecca Edwards were arrested as objects of
retaliation, she encouraged them to persevere in devotion to the cause
they had espoused.

Should they fall a sacrifice, a mother's blessing, and the approbation
of their countrymen, would go with them to the last; but if fear of
death ever prevailed on them to purchase safety by submission, they must
forget she was their parent, for it would to her be misery to look on
them again.

The sufferings of the sick and wounded American prisoners after the fall
of Charleston, appealed to female benevolence also among the loyalists.
Though attached to the royal cause, Mrs. Sarah Hopton and her daughters
were indefatigable in their attentions to the sufferers, whom many
feared to visit in consequence of the prevalence of a contagious fever
in the hospitals. The English were well supplied with necessary stores;
the Americans were destitute, and therefore experienced their kindness
and bounty. Their servants were continually employed in carrying them
nourishment and articles needed; and in some cases, they paid the hire
of nurses, where personal services were indispensable. They soothed the
death-bed of many with the consolations of religion, prayed with those
who were in danger, and joined with the convalescent in returning
thanks. These kind offices were rendered to men of whose political
principles and acts they disapproved, while great bitterness of feeling
existed between the opposing parties; but no prejudice could make these
Christian women insensible to the claims of humanity.

The lessons of piety and charity--the great lessons of life--taught
by Mrs. Hopton to her daughters, were afterwards neither forgotten nor
neglected. They were prominent in promoting the diffusion of religious
education, and devoted to such objects their energies and wealth. Two of
them aided in the establishment of a charity school for the education of
female orphans. Mrs. Gregorie, the eldest daughter, appropriated a
fund to aid in the support of this school, with many other bequests to
different religious associations.




XXXI. BEHETHLAND FOOTE BUTLER.

|The influence of women, so powerful an agent during the progress of
the Revolutionary war, was essential after its close in restoring
a healthful tone and vigor to society. The exercise of the higher
qualities of character was then no less demanded than in the troublous
times of violent popular excitement. Energy, industry, and perseverance
were necessary to the fulfilment of daily duties, which were to form the
character and shape the destinies of the youth of the Republic. It was
the part of women to reclaim what the ravages of war had laid waste;
to weed from the soil the rank growth it had nourished; to carry out in
practice the principles for which patriots had shed their blood, and
to lay a moral foundation on which the structure of a nation's true
greatness might be built. How faithfully the honorable yet difficult
task was performed, may be best seen from the characters of those who
were prepared for usefulness under this training. And it is not a little
remarkable how indifferent were those to whom this mighty trust was
committed, to views of personal ambition or interest. The spirit of Mary
Washington was among them. No distinction was in their eyes worthy to be
coveted, except that of eminent usefulness; they thought not of the fame
or power to be won by service to the Republic, but in their simplicity
and singleness of heart believed a patriot's best reward the
consciousness of having done his duty. Such were the matrons of the
nation's early day. Had they been otherwise, America would not have been
what now she is.

It is pleasant to dwell upon the character of one of these matrons,
whose influence, exerted in the privacy of the domestic circle, has
borne rich fruit in those who owe their distinction to her training. But
few incidents of her early personal history can be obtained; her life,
like that of most women, has been too quiet and secluded to furnish
material for the chronicler of mere events; but in view of the part she
has borne in the great work appointed by Providence to American women,
and the example afforded, its lesson should not be lost.

Behethland Moore was born on the 24th December, 1764, in Fauquier
County, Virginia. Her father, Captain Frank Moore, commanded as
lieutenant one of the Virginia troops at Braddock's defeat. Her mother
was Frances Foote, of whose family many still reside in that part of the
State. About 1768, five years after the marriage of her parents, they
removed to South Carolina, and settled on Little River, in Laurens
District, where Captain Moore died two years afterwards. His widow
contracted a second marriage with Captain Samuel Savage, who in 1774
removed to Edgefield District, and fixed his residence on Saluda River,
just above Saluda Old Town. Here Miss Moore and her two brothers,
William and George, lived with her mother and stepfather. Her education
was attended to with more care than was usually bestowed on the tuition
of young girls. She was sent to school in Camden, and placed under
the charge of a female teacher who enjoyed in that day a very high
reputation, receiving instruction in various useful and ornamental
branches.

While she was at this school, Count Pulaski, with the forces under his
command, passed through Camden on his way to join the American army at
Charleston. Miss Moore and her young companions took great pleasure in
looking at the soldiers as they passed through the streets; though they
were frequently rebuked for this indulgence of a natural curiosity. In
1781, she returned home. The smallpox was making fearful ravages through
the country; and to secure her against the dangers of the disease in
its more violent form, Miss Moore was sent to the neighborhood of
Ninety-Six, where she was innoculated by a British surgeon. While
awaiting the effects of the operation, being placed as a boarder in the
house of James Maysons, General Greene laid siege to Ninety-Six. The
wife of Colonel Cruger, the commander of the garrison, had lodgings
in the same house with Miss Moore, and was well acquainted with the
American General. The approach of Lord Rawdon rendered it necessary to
attempt carrying the place by storm. Greene determined on this; but with
characteristic humanity and delicacy, gave notice of his intention to
Mrs. Cruger, and detached a sergeant and guard of eight men to protect
the house in which she resided, from dangers that might be apprehended
in the heat of the assault. When the cannonading commenced, Mrs. Cruger
was engaged in sewing up guineas in a girdle; an occupation which she
continued in spite of the alarm occasioned by the successive reports.
Miss Moore, as may be supposed, had her share in the uneasiness caused
by the military preparations. She returned home the day before Lord
Rawdon's troops passed along the road, not far from the dwelling of her
parents. The terrors of war were brought to their very door; for it was
here that a sanguinary skirmish took place between Rawdon's men and a
body of Colonel Washington's cavalry sent to impede their progress. Soon
after, one of the royalist officers came to the house, where there were
none but women; and advised the family to take care of their property.
The caution was not unnecessary; for they were presently intruded upon
by several British soldiers. In their search for plunder, they rolled
down from above stairs some apples that had been gathered and stored for
the use of the family. The soldiers below began picking them up as they
fell on the floor; Miss Moore commanded them to desist, and gathering
some of the fruit in her apron, offered it to a non-commissioned officer
who stood by. Struck with the cool courage and determination of so young
a girl, he made some remark expressive of his admiration, and ordered
the soldiers instantly to desist from their rude trespass. He then
asked if her father did not own some sheep; to which she replied in
the affirmative. "The men are killing them, then, in the lot," said the
officer. Miss Moore hastened thither, followed by her informant. Two men
were in the act of slaughtering one of the sheep; but at the officer's
bidding, with the threat of reporting them to the commander, were
compelled to let them go. This incident, though trifling, exhibits the
same spirit which in other instances impelled to heroic actions. The
determination to interfere, though at no little personal hazard, for the
protection of her father's property, required a degree of courage in one
of her age, which can be estimated only when we consider the ferocity
of the marauders who then made it their business to pillage private
families.

On another occasion a band of tories came to the house of Captain
Savage, and were taking off a negro boy who had been the personal
attendant of Miss Moore's father in the Indian war. With no thought of
the risk to herself, she hastened after them to rescue him from their
hands. The men, however, merely wanted him to show them where the horses
were. When they returned driving the latter, one of them ordered another
servant to catch one for him. Miss Moore commanded him not to obey such
an order; it was repeated; and the tory swore he would beat the servant
for his disobedience. As he was about to put his threat in execution,
the young girl threw herself between them, and the grumbling assailant
was forced to forego the intended violence. It must be remembered that
the intrepid maiden thus braved the ruthless band entirely on a point
of honor--knowing that the horses would be taken, but resolved not to
permit a servant belonging to her family to wait upon a tory.

While she resided at home, it became necessary to convey intelligence
of danger to Captain Wallace, who was in command of a small force on the
other side of the Saluda. There was difficulty in doing this, as no male
messenger could be procured. Miss Moore, at that time but fifteen, years
old, volunteered to undertake the service. Accompanied by her little
brother, and a friend named Fanny Smith, she went up the river in a
canoe in the middle of the night; gave the warning to Captain Wallace,
and through him to Colonel Henry Lee, who had crossed the Island Ford on
the retreat ordered by General Greene.

The next morning a young American officer, who had been below on some
reconnoitering service, rode up to the house to make a few inquiries.
These were answered by the young lady, who, it is said, was somewhat
struck with the appearance of the handsome man in dragoon uniform. This
was the first occasion on which she saw her future husband. It appears
that the pleasing impression at first sight was reciprocal; and that
the fair girl's image accompanied Captain William Butler into his next
battle-field; for it was not long before the courtship took place. This
did not meet the full approbation of the step-father; but love seldom
yields to the discouragement of obstacles; and the lover's perseverance
was crowned with success. The marriage took place in 1784. The young
people took possession of a small farm which Captain Butler had
inherited from his father, near Mount Willing. Fourteen years afterwards
they removed to an estate on one of the branches of Saluda River, where
they continued to live till the husband's death in 1821.

General Butler was almost constantly engaged in public service, and was
necessarily absent from home a great part of his time. In Congress from
1801 to 1814, and commanding the South Carolina forces in Charleston
as Major General during 1814 and 1815, the whole care not only of his
family, but of his plantation and business, devolved upon Mrs.
Butler. Never were such varied responsibilities more worthily met and
discharged. It was in this situation that the sterling qualities of her
character were developed, and shone with brightest lustre. She had the
care of a large family, the support of which was derived mainly from the
produce of a small farm; and the energy with which she devoted herself
to the charge, evinced a wonderful fertility in resources, commanding
the admiration of all who knew her. She undertook the superintendence
of her children's education, and especially of its most important
part--that moral training which always gives tone to character in after
life. Abundant occasions were afforded, in many trying scenes, for the
exercise of the unfaltering fortitude and prompt judgment which have
been her most remarkable characteristics. One who has enjoyed an
intimate acquaintance with her, says he has never known her, in many
years to perform an act, or utter a word, which calm and deliberate
judgment could disapprove. Amid trials and difficulties, sustained by
high principle, integrity and independence, her character has impressed
itself upon those who know her as rare and remarkable, commanding
universal respect; while her gentle virtues endear her to all within the
circle of her acquaintance. With a singular power of command and stern
energy, she combines the softest and most womanly qualities. In her it
may be seen that a superior mind, rigidly disciplined, may belong to a
woman without the development of any harsh or unfeminine lineaments;
and that a heart the most tender and affectionate may prompt to all the
generous charities of life, without being allied to weakness. It is this
union of benignity with force of intellect and firmness of resolution,
which has given her the ascendancy she possesses over others--an
attribute difficult to define, yet which is felt instinctively, as the
most peculiar and imposing of natural gifts.

The best testimony that could be borne to the excellence of this noble
mother, and of her system of education, is afforded by the career of her
sons, several of whom have attained distinction in public service. Their
acknowledgment of indebtedness to her for this eminence speaks more than
volumes of eulogy. The family consisted of seven sons and one daughter.
The eldest, James, was sheriff in his native district, and a Colonel in
the militia of the State. He died in 1821. George, a Major in the army,
which he left in 1815 for the bar, was one of the most prominent men in
the State; and died at the age of thirty-three. The Hon. William Butler
studied medicine, and was for several years in the navy. The fourth son,
who practised law, died in 1828. The eminent talents and public career
of Andrew Pickens Butler, for many years a distinguished member of the
Judiciary of South Carolina, and now United States Senator, are too well
known to need illustration. It may suffice to say that in domestic
life, and in the social circle, he commands the same esteem as in public
station. He appears to have inherited the cheerfulness of disposition
still retained by his mother, and which contributes more than any other
quality to shed around home the sunshine of happiness. The late Colonel
Pierce Mason Butler was celebrated for heroic and generous qualities.
A hero in the best sense of the term was this "American Douglas." He
commanded the regiment of his native State in the Florida war; and
subsequently received the highest testimony of the people's confidence,
in his election to the Chief Magistracy of South Carolina. He fell at
the head of the Palmetto regiment in Mexico. Few of our prominent men
have left any single condensed expression that has become classic by
fixing itself in popular remembrance; some of Colonel Butler's are,
however, thus embalmed. In his letter to General Worth, on the day of
the battle of Churubusco, he claims-a position for his command in the
front of the action. "South Carolina," he says, "is entitled to a place
in the picture." And his motto of his regiment--"Our State expects us
to do our duty, but to make no show of it"--is an expression strongly
characteristic not only of him, but of the noble-minded mother by whose
precepts, discipline, and example his character was formed. To her
judicious care, and the high example of their father, her sons owe the
large share they have exhibited of the old Greek feeling that they were
born for their country.

The parting of Mrs. Butler with her gallant son, on his departure for
Mexico, was cheered by no expectation of meeting again--his health being
greatly impaired. She gave him her last embrace with tearless eyes,
though with an agonized heart. Chosen as he was by the unanimous and
spontaneous call of the State to lead her forces, he could not refuse
to accept the trust; nor would his mother allow the exhibition of her
sorrow to impede him in the performance of his duty.

The youngest son, Leontine, died at the age of twenty-five. The only
daughter, Emmala E., was the wife of Hon. Waddy Thompson, late Minister
to Mexico.

A single anecdote of domestic management may serve to illustrate Mrs.
Butler's power over the minds trained by her, and her habit of making
use of slight occurrences to mould the character. The children of the
late Colonel Butler attended school in the village of Edgefield, where
she resides. One day when it rained violently, the children having been
provided with cloaks and umbrellas sent for the purpose, her grandson,
eleven years of age, observed that a little girl, the child of humble
parents, had no such protection. He gave her his arm and the shelter of
his umbrella, and conducted her home amid the jeers and laughter of his
young companions. The amount of moral courage required for this simple
act of courtesy and kindness, can be estimated when we consider the
sensitiveness to ridicule in a boy of such early age. His grandmother's
expression of approval was sufficient reward, and she lost not the
opportunity of exhorting the generous child never to be ashamed of an
honorable action, however humble the object.

It may perhaps be seen, even in this brief and inadequate sketch, how
in the incidents of Mrs. Butler's early life, were developed the high
mental and moral qualities which marked her in after years, illustrated
in her actions, and sending forth so many streams of blessing. In her
children, whom she reared to usefulness, and whose devotion to her has
never faltered, her recompense has been found. Admired and beloved by
her descendants and friends--the object of the high regard and respect
of a large circle of acquaintance--she has yet the consciousness of
being able to contribute to the enjoyment and improvement of those
around her. It is but recently she has been called to mourn the death of
her only daughter, worthy of her in her elevated principles, her gentle
yet lofty spirit, and her grace and benignity of nature. The death of
the brother whom she loved--Colonel Butler--it is said, was the blow
which consigned her to an untimely grave. The memory of her amiable and
noble qualities, and her deep and unaffected piety, is warmly cherished
in the hearts of her kindred and friends.




XXXII. HANNAH CALDWELL.

|Few occurrences in the history of ancient or modern warfare have so
strongly influenced the public feeling--have excited so universal a
sentiment of horror, or such deep resentment towards the authors of the
crime--as the deliberate and barbarous murder of Mrs. Caldwell. It was
perpetrated not only as an act of vengeance upon an individual, but
with the design of striking terror into the country, and compelling the
inhabitants to submission. So far, however, from producing this effect,
it but roused the indignation of the whole community, filling all with
one spirit--one desire to avenge the deed, and drive the invaders from
their soil. It animated the brave with new energy, inspired the timid
to feats of heroism, and determined the irresolute to throng to the
standard of liberty. One of the journals of the day says: "The Caldwell
tragedy has raised the resolution of the country to the highest pitch.
They are ready almost to swear everlasting enmity to the name of a
Briton."

The Rev. James Caldwell, pastor of the First Presbyterian church in
Elizabethtown, New Jersey, was descended of a Huguenot family, and born
in Virginia. He married in 1763, Hannah, the daughter of John Ogden of
Newark. Her mother was Miss Sayre, a descendant of the Pilgrims. Her
brothers were all staunch whigs, with the exception of Jonathan, who
subsequently held the offices of Surgeon General in the British army,
and Judge of Newfoundland.

Shortly after the settlement of Mr. Caldwell at Elizabethtown, the war
broke out; and inheriting from his ancestors a feeling of opposition
to tyranny, he warmly espoused the cause of his country. He acted
as chaplain of those portions of the American army that successively
occupied New Jersey; joined Colonel Dayton's regiment, and accompanied
the Jersey brigade to the northern lines. He was stationed some time at
Johnstown, New York, and was afterwards appointed assistant commissary
to the army; stood high in the confidence of Washington; and by his
eloquent and patriotic appeals, contributed greatly, in times of
despondency to excite and sustain the drooping spirits of the soldiers.
All the influence commanded by his character and talents--his energy,
and his unbounded popularity in the community--was devoted to the cause
of American freedom.

This zeal and activity did not fail to render him obnoxious to the
enemy, and no effort was spared to do him injury. A price was set upon
his head; and it is said that while preaching the gospel of peace to his
people, he was often forced to lay his loaded pistols by his side in the
pulpit. On account of the predatory incursions of the British, he was
compelled to leave his home, for a temporary residence at Springfield,
New Jersey. The parsonage thus deserted, and the church in which he
preached, were used as a hospital for the sick and wounded of the
American army. Its bell sounded the alarm through the town on the
approach of the enemy; * the weary soldiers often slept upon its floor,
and ate their hurried and scanty meals from the seats of the pews; so
that worshippers on the Sabbath were not unfrequently compelled to stand
through the service. Even of this shelter the British and tories, who
cherished implacable enmity towards the pastor of the church, determined
to deprive the soldiers; it was burnt, with the parsonage, on the night
of January 25th, 1780.

Finding the situation at Springfield inconvenient, and the distance
too great from his church, Mr. Caldwell again removed to "Connecticut
Farms," four miles from Elizabethtown. It was during his residence at
this place that the British troops from New York, under the command
of the Hessian General Knyphausen, landed at Elizabethtown, before
daylight, on the seventh of June. *

* See Notes concerning Elizabethtown, by Rev. Dr. Murray.

Their march into the interior was marked by cruelty and devastation.
Several houses were fired, and the inhabitants left destitute of
provisions or shelter. When informed of the enemy's approach, Mr.
Caldwell put his elder children into a baggage wagon in his possession
as commissary, and sent them to some of his friends for protection.
Three of the younger ones--Josiah Flint, Elias Boudinot, and Maria, an
infant about eight months old, remained with their mother in the house.
* Mr. Caldwell had no fears for the safety of his wife and young family;
for he believed it impossible that resentment could be extended to a
mother watching over her little ones. He had that morning taken an early
breakfast, intending to join the force collecting to oppose the enemy.
Having in vain endeavored to persuade his wife to go with him,
he returned to make a last effort to induce her to change her
determination; but she remained firm. She handed him a cup of coffee,
which he drank as he sat on horseback. Seeing the gleam of British arms
at a distance, he put spurs to his horse, and in a few moments was out
of sight.

* The nurse also remained, and a little girl named Abigail Lennington,
a soldier's daughter, whom Mr. Caldwell had taken into his family. She
is still living at Elizabethtown. Immediately after the tragedy, she
with the nurse, gave deposition as to the facts before a magistrate.

Mrs. Caldwell herself felt no alarm. She had hid several articles of
value in a bucket and let it down into the well; and had filled her
pockets with silver and jewelry. She saw that the house was put in
order, and then dressed herself with care, that should the enemy enter
her dwelling, she might, to use her own expression--"receive them as a
lady." She then took the infant in her arms, retired to her chamber, the
window of which commanded a view of the road, towards which the end of
the house stood--and seated herself upon the bed. The alarm was given
that the soldiers were at hand. But she felt confidence that no one
could have the heart to do injury to the helpless inmates of her house.
Again and again she said--"They will respect a mother." She had just
nursed the infant and given it to the nurse, who was in the room. The
girl, Abigail, was standing by the window. A soldier left the road, and
crossing a space of ground diagonally to reach the house, came to
the window of the room, put his gun close to it, and fired. Two balls
entered the breast of Mrs. Caldwell; she fell back on the bed, and in a
moment expired. **

* He wore a red coat, and is generally supposed to have been a British
soldier. Some have attributed the act to a refugee.

** The little girl received in her face some of the glass when the two
balls entered, both of which took such deadly effect.

After the murder, Mrs. Caldwell's dress was cut open, and her pockets
were rifled by the soldiers. Her remains were conveyed to a house on the
other side of the road; the dwelling was then fired and reduced to ashes
with all the furniture. The ruthless soldiers went on in their work of
destruction, pillaging and setting fire to the houses, piling beds and
clothing in the street and destroying them, till the village was laid
waste.

Let it be imagined what were the feelings of the husband, when the
terrible news was communicated to him. It is said that he overheard some
soldiers in a house where he stopped, speaking of the occurrence; and
by questioning them, learned the truth. La Fayette, on his last visit to
America, informed one of the family, that Mr. Caldwell was with him
that morning on the heights near Springfield, and saw, by the aid of a
spy-glass, the smoke ascending from the burning houses. "Thank God,"
he exclaimed, "the fire is not in the direction of my house." He was
fatally mistaken!

Mr. Josiah F. Caldwell, one of the sons--the sixth of the nine children
who were thus bereaved of a mother--relates what he remembers of the
event. He was at the time six years of age. About sunrise, when it was
announced that the British were coming, he went into the street and
joined the people who were driving their cattle to Springfield. There
he saw his father with a field-piece--a six pounder, which had formerly
been used as an alarm piece. Thence the little boy proceeded to Bottle
Hill, and found his second sister, Hannah, at the house of Mr.
Sayre; and a day or two after, both the children set off on foot for
Connecticut Farms, to see their mother. On their way, they were met by
the nurse, Katy, with the two youngest children, in a chair belonging
to Mr. Caldwell; she informed the young orphans of their mother's death,
and insisted that they should return with her to Bottle Hill. The sister
yielded, and was taken into the carriage; the little brother refused to
go till he had taken a last look at his beloved parent, and pursued his
way to the Farms. On his arrival he was conducted to the house where
his mother's remains were laid. His father, who had arrived a short time
before, was standing beside the bed on which reposed the lifeless
form of this victim of political hatred. What a meeting for the
heart-stricken mourner, and the child scarce able to comprehend his
irreparable loss!

Some attempts were made by the royalist party to escape the odium of
this sanguinary transaction, by pretending that Mrs. Caldwell had been
killed by a chance shot. *

* Rivington's Royal Gazette, 1780.

The actual evidence, however, sets the fact beyond question that one of
the enemy was the murderer; and there is too much reason to believe that
the deed was deliberately ordered by those high in command. A letter to
General Knyphausen, published in the New Jersey Journal, in reproaching
him for the outrages of his army, unhesitatingly casts the blame of
the murder on him, as committed designedly by one of his men: and the
various rumors that went abroad amidst the popular excitement on the
subject, and were mentioned in the papers of the day, show that such was
the prevalent opinion. *

* The Hon. Samuel L. Southard, alluding to Mrs. Caldwell's death, in
connection with a memorial presented to the U. S. Senate for the church
and property destroyed, says "her children were baptized to piety and
patriotism in a mother's blood."

Mr. Caldwell himself presented an address to the public, * showing
that the murder of his wife had been a deliberate act, committed at the
instigation of those in authority. "Mrs. Caldwell," he says, "was of so
sweet a temper, and so prudent, benevolent and soft in her manners, that
I verily believe she had not upon earth one personal enemy; and whatever
rancor the enemy felt against myself for my public conduct and political
character, I have no reason to believe there was any person among them
under the influence of any personal difference, or private revenge.
I cannot therefore esteem it the private action of an individual. No
officer interfered to preserve the corpse from being stripped or burnt,
nor to relieve the babes left thus desolate among them. Many officers,
indeed, showed their abhorrence of the murder, and their tenderness for
the babes; why did they not set a sentinel over the corpse, till the
neighboring women could have been called? They knew she was a lady of
amiable character and reputable family; yet she was left half the day
stripped in part, and tumbled about by the rude soldiery; and at last
was removed from the house before it was burnt, by the aid of those who
were not of the army. From this I conclude the army knew the will of
their superiors; and that those who had benevolence dared not show it to
this devoted lady."

* Pennsylvania Journal, October 4, 1780.

The children were left at different places, till Mr. Caldwell bought a
small farm at Turkey, now called New Providence, where he collected his
family together, under the care of the faithful nurse, Katy. The remains
of Mrs. Caldwell were interred in the burial-ground of the Presbyterian
Church at Elizabethtown, and the congregation placed above the grave
a neat freestone slab, on which is an inscription recording her bright
virtues, and her melancholy fate. The memory of this martyr to American
liberty will long be revered by the inhabitants of the land with whose
soil her shed blood has mingled!

Her personal appearance is described as conveying the abiding impression
of benevolence, serenity, and peculiar sweetness of disposition. She
was about the medium height, with dark gray eyes, auburn hair, and
complexion of singular fairness; of pleasing countenance, and quiet,
gentle, and winning manners.

The tragedy was not yet complete. On the 24th of November, 1781, Mr.
Caldwell went to Elizabethtown Point for a Miss Murray, who came under
the protection of a flag of truce from New York, where she had shown
great kindness to some of the sick soldiers. Mr. Caldwell conducted her
to his gig, and then went back into the boat for her bundle containing
some articles of clothing. As he came on shore he was challenged by the
American sentinel, who demanded what "contraband goods" he had there.
Unwilling then to dispute the matter, he turned back to leave the bundle
with the officer; and at that moment was shot by a man named Morgan, who
had just been relieved from duty as a sentinel. This man is supposed to
have been bribed by British gold to the deed. Mr. Caldwell fell,
pierced by two balls; and his body was borne to Mrs. Noel's house in
Elizabethtown. Morgan, who fired upon him, was afterwards tried, found
guilty of murder, and executed. The remains of Mr. Caldwell were laid in
the same grave-yard with those of his wife; and the "Caldwell monument,"
at the inauguration ceremonies of which Dr. Miller and Hon. William L.
Dayton delivered their eloquent addresses in 1846, was erected to their
memory.

Mrs. Noel, the steadfast friend of the family, took the children under
her protection, assembled their friends, and consulted upon measures to
be taken for the care of them. All lived to become eminent and useful
members of society. The eldest son, John Edwards, was taken by La
Fayette to France, where he was educated; and in after years was
foremost in New York in benevolent enterprises, and editor of one of
the first religious periodicals in the country. The fifth son, Elias
Boudinot, was taken by the Hon. Elias Boudinot, President of the first
Congress; and was afterwards Clerk of the United States Supreme Court,
and one of the originators of the Colonization Society. Mrs. Noel
adopted the youngest child--a daughter--who is still living in New York.

The Rev. Dr. Murray of Elizabethtown, who has thoroughly investigated
the subject, has prepared an accurate account of the death of the
devoted patriot and pastor, which will shortly be given to the public.

On the 28th of February, 1779, a party of British troops from New York
landed at Elizabethtown Point, for the purpose of capturing the Governor
of New Jersey, and surprising the force stationed in the village under
General Maxwell. One detachment marched at night to "Liberty Hall," the
residence of Governor Livingston, and forced an entrance; but failed
of their object--for it happened that he had left home some hours
previously. Disappointed in the expectation of securing his prisoner,
the British officer demanded the Governor's papers. Miss Livingston
assented to the demand; but appealing to him as a gentleman, requested
that a box standing in the parlor, which she claimed as containing
her private property, should be secured from molestation. A guard was
accordingly stationed over it, while the library was thrown open to the
soldiers, who filled their foraging bags with worthless law papers and
departed. The box, which had been sedulously guarded, contained all the
Governor's correspondence with Congress, with the Commander-in-chief,
and the State officers; the young lady's stratagem thus preserving what
would have proved a most valuable prize to the plunderers. *

* Life of Livingston, by Theodore Sedgwick.

A repartee made by one of Lord Dorchester's aids to Miss Susan
Livingston, has been celebrated. When the British were evacuating
New York, she expressed a wish to him that their departure might be
hastened, "for among your incarcerated belles, the _scarlet_ fever must
rage till you are gone." Major Upham, the aid, replied that he feared,
if freed from the prevailing malady--"they would be tormented by a
worse--the _blue_ devils."

All the letters of Livingston to his daughters show the sympathy that
existed between them, and his confidence in the strength of their
republican principles. His opinions and wishes on all subjects are
openly expressed to them. In a letter to the Earl of Stirling, he
says he has entrusted to his daughter Catharine his despatches to his
correspondents in Spain. He writes at one time to her, noticing the
favor shown to the British captives--"I know there are a number of
flirts in Philadelphia, who will triumph in our over-complaisance to the
red-coat prisoners lately arrived in that metropolis. I hope none of my
connections will imitate them, either in the dress of their heads, or
the still more tory feelings of their hearts."

Catharine, the second daughter, afterwards married Matthew Ridley,
of Baltimore. He was at Nantes in 1778, in the American commission
business. *

* The following copy of an order sent to Nantes, rather curiously shows
the precariousness of transportation in those times. It is extracted
from a MS. letter of John Jay, dated Madrid, Jan. 21st, 1782, which
expresses a hope that one of the parcels may meet its destination:

"Be pleased to send for Miss Kitty W. Livingston, to the care of Hon.
R. Morris, Esq., at Philadelphia, by the first three good vessels bound
there, the three following parcels, viz:

"No. I to contain--

2 White embroidered patterns for shoes.

4 Pair silk stockings.

A pattern for a negligeé of light pink colored silk, with a set of
ribbons suitable to it.

6 Pair of kid gloves.

6 Yards of catgut, and cap-wire in proportion.

6 Yards of white silk gauze.

"No. 2 to contain--

"The same as above, except that the silk for the negligeé must not
be pink-colored, but of any other color that Mrs. Johnson may think
fashionable and pretty. The shoes and ribbons may be adapted to it.

"No. 3 to contain--

"The same as above, except that the silk for the negligleé must be of
a different color from the other two, and the shoes and ribbons of a
proper color to be worn with it."

She took a deep interest in public affairs. Her friend, Lady Catharine
Alexander, writes from Valley Forge, after the cheering news of the
alliance with France--"We have nothing here but rejoicings; every one
looks happy and seems proud of the share he has had in humbling the
pride of Britain, and of establishing the name of America as a nation."
The following note, addressed to her by Washington from the same place,
has never before been published. *

* The MS. correspondence of Miss Catharine Livingston, including this
note, is in the possession of Mr. Theodore Sedgwick.

"General Washington having been informed lately of the honor done him
by Miss Kitty Livingston in wishing for a lock of his hair, takes
the liberty of inclosing one, accompanied by his most respectful
compliments.

"_Camp, Valley Forge, 18th Mar., 1778._"

The wife of William Livingston was Susannah, the daughter of Philip
French, and grand-daughter, by the mother's side, of Anthony Brockholst,
Lieutenant Governor, under Andross, of the Colony of New York, and
subsequently its chief magistrate. Simple and unpretending in manners,
she was endowed with a strong intellect and a warm and tender heart. The
letters of her husband show his high respect as well as love for her.
When the British troops made the memorable incursion into New Jersey
by Elizabethtown, the Governor, being absent from his family, suffered
intense-anxiety on their account. But while the neighboring villages
were seen in flames, the enemy respected "Liberty Hall," and treated its
inmates with courtesy. A correspondent of Rivington's Gazette accounts
for this by saying that one of the British officers received a rose
from Miss Susan Livingston on his visit to the house, as a memento of a
promise of protection. An anecdote connected with this invasion has
been traditionally preserved, which, if proved authentic, would furnish
curious evidence as to the agency concerned in the murder of Mrs.
Caldwell. After a day of alarm, the flames of Springfield and
Connecticut Farms being in view, and soldiers continually passing the
house, Mrs. Livingston and her daughters were at a late hour surprised
by the entrance of several British officers, who announced their
intention of lodging there. Their presence was felt to be a protection,
and the ladies retired. About midnight the officers left the house,
called away by some startling news; and not long afterwards a band of
straggling soldiers, intoxicated, rushed with oaths and threats into the
hall. "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 crowding
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
daughters 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 illumining the hall and falling full 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 the house
by his intervention finally cleared of the assailants." * The influence
of Mrs. Livingston over her husband, in spite of his unyielding
and irritable temper, is repeatedly noticed by his biographer. This
influence was secured by her strong good sense, her sympathy, and
unselfish tenderness. She shared his thoughts in time of war, and his
joy when allowed to relinquish his wandering life, and return to his
home; to enter once more his deserted library, and superintend his
long neglected garden. In his simple and rural occupations she was his
constant and faithful companion; and his letters evince the solicitude
with which he watched over her health, with the warm affection he
cherished for her through years of absence and absorbing occupation. She
died on the 17th of July, 1789.

* Life of Livingston, p. 353.

_Sarah, Lady Stirling_, was the sister of Governor Livingston. She
accompanied the Earl, her husband, who was Major General in the American
army, to the camp. While the Earl was in the camp at White Plains, she
paid a visit to New York--then in possession of the British--with
her youngest daughter, Lady Catharine Alexander, to visit her eldest
daughter, whose husband, Robert Watts, had remained quietly in the city,
taking no active part on either side. The letters of both mother and
daughter descriptive of this visit are interesting as showing the
situation and temper of those Americans who had continued in the city
during its occupation by the enemy. Lady Catharine, who writes--August,
1778--from Parsippany, the place where Governor Livingston's family had
taken refuge after an invasion of Elizabethtown, is sanguine in her hope
of soon seeing her relatives as zealous patriots as herself. Mr. Watts,
she says, is among the number of those who are heartily sick of the
tyranny witnessed; and "as to Mary, her political principles are
perfectly _rebellious_.. . . The sentiments of a great number have
undergone a thorough change since they have been with the British army;
as they have many opportunities of seeing flagrant acts of injustice
and cruelty of which they could not have believed their friends capable.
This convinces them that if they conquer, we must live in abject
slavery. Lady Stirling exhibits her disinterested patriotism by
refusing to avail herself of the permission sent from Sir Henry Clinton,
to take anything she pleased out of the city; fearing "there would be a
handle made of it," if she accepted the offer. "The last time I saw him
(Mr. Elliott,) he told me I must take a box of tea; but I stuck to my
text."

Lady Catharine afterwards became the wife of the Hon. William Duer. A
letter of condolence from Washington to the Countess of Stirling--upon
her husband's death--has been preserved in the Historical Collections of
New Jersey.




XXXIII. DEBORAH SAMSON.

[Illustration: 0166]

|When the lapse of years shall have invested the period of the
Revolution with the coloring of poesy, and the novelist shall seek his
materials in the romance of American history, the heroism and deeds
of the subject of this notice will perhaps afford the ground-work of
a tragedy or a novel. Something of the latter sort has already been
constructed upon this foundation; a production, half tale, half
biography, entitled "The Female Review," published in Massachusetts
about the commencement of the present century. I have not been able to
find a copy; but have been told that it was not in any measure reliable,
and that the heroine had repeatedly expressed her displeasure at the
representation of herself, which she "did not at all recognize." The
following facts respecting her, I received from a lady who knew her
personally, * and has often listened with thrilling interest to the
animated description given by herself of her exploits and adventures.

* A niece of Captain Tisdale, upon whom Robert attended in the army for
some months.

Though not comparable, certainly, to the "prophetess" in whom France
triumphed--=

````"The maid with helméd head,

```Like a war-goddess, fair and terrible--"=

for the dignity with which the zeal of a chivalrous and superstitious
age, and the wonderful success of her mission invested her--it cannot
be denied that this romantic girl exhibited something of the same spirit
with the lowly herdsmaid, who, amidst the round of her humble duties,
felt herself inspired with resolution to go forth and do battle in her
country's cause, exchanging her peasant's garb for the mail, and the
helmet, and the sword. There is something moving and interesting in the
aspect of the enthusiasm fostered in her secret soul, struggling with
obstructions and depressions, and at length impelling her to the
actual accomplishment of what she had pondered in day-dreams; while the
ignorance and error mingled with this enthusiasm, should increase our
sympathy without diminishing the share of admiration we would bestow,
had it been evinced in a more becoming manner.

Several instances are mentioned in the history of the war, in which
female courage was displayed by actions pertaining to the stronger sex.
The resolution of Congress is on record, in which honorable mention is
made of the services of Margaret Corbin. * The story of the gunner's
wife, who took her husband's place when he was killed at the battle
of Monmouth, and did such execution that after the engagement she was
rewarded by a commission, ** has been often related. And many examples
were there of matrons, who, having suffered incredibly from the
spoliations of the enemy, lost patience, and fought manfully for the
last loaf of bread, or the last bed-quilt for their children. In the
case before us, the isolation from ordinary domestic and social ties
favored the impulse that prompted to a course so extraordinary.

* "Resolved--That Margaret Corbin, wounded and disabled at the attack on
Fort Washington, while she heroically filled the post of her husband,
who was killed by her side serving a piece of artillery, do receive
during her natural life, or continuance of said disability, one-half the
monthly pay drawn by a soldier in service of these States; and that she
now receive out of public stores, one suit of clothes, or value thereof
in money." July, 1779.

** History of Scoharie County.

Deborah Samson was the youngest child of poor parents, who lived in the
county of Plymouth, Massachusetts. Their poverty, rendered hopeless
by pernicious habits, was the least of the evils suffered by the
unfortunate children. Charity interposed to rescue them from the effects
of evil example; they were removed from their parents, and placed in
different families, where a prospect was afforded of their receiving
proper care and instruction to fit them for maintaining themselves
when arrived at a suitable age. Deborah found a home in the house of a
respectable farmer, whose wife, a well-disposed woman, bestowed upon
her as much attention as is common in such cases. The friendless and
destitute girl was kindly treated, and provided with comfortable food
and clothing; but had no advantages of education. Her keen feeling of
this deprivation, and the efforts she made to repair the deficiency,
show her possession of a mind naturally superior, and that judicious
training might have fitted her to promote in no insignificant degree
the good of society. There was none to teach her; but she seized
every opportunity for acquiring knowledge. She borrowed books from the
children who passed the house in which she lived' on their way to
and from school, and persevered with untiring exertion in her private
studies, till she had learned to read tolerably well; but attempted no
other branch of scholarship, until, on the completion of her eighteenth
year, the law released her from her indentures.

Her first arrangement on becoming the mistress of her own movements, was
to secure herself the advantages of instruction. The only way in which
she could do this was by engaging to work in the family of a farmer one
half the time, in payment for her board and lodging, and attending the
common district school in the neighborhood. Her improvement was rapid
beyond example. In a few months she had acquired more knowledge than
many of her schoolmates had done in years; and was by them regarded as
quite a prodigy of industry and attainment.

Meantime, the Revolutionary struggle had commenced. The gloom that had
accompanied the outburst of the storm, hung over the whole land; the
news of the carnage on the plains of Lexington--the sound of the cannon
at Bunker Hill, had reached every dwelling, and vibrated on the heart of
every patriot in New England. The zeal which had urged the men to
quit their homes for the battlefield, found its way to a female bosom;
Deborah felt as if she would shrink from no effort or sacrifice in
the cause which awakened all her enthusiasm. She entered with the most
lively interest into every plan for the relief of the army, and bitterly
regretted that as a woman she could do no more, and that she had not the
privilege of a man, of shedding her blood for her country.

There is no reason to believe that any consideration foreign to the
purest patriotism, impelled her to the resolution of assuming male
attire, and enlisting in the army. She could have been actuated by no
desire of gaining applause; for the private manner in which she quitted
her home and associates, entrusting no one with her design, subjected
her to surmises of a painful nature; and the careful preservation of her
secret during the period of her military service, exonerates her from
the least suspicion of having been urged to the step by an imprudent
attachment. It is very likely that her youthful imagination was kindled
by the rumor of brave deeds, and that her visions of "the camp's stir
and crowd and ceaseless 'larum" were colored richly by the hues of
fancy. Curiosity to see and partake of this varied war-life, the
restlessness of "a heart unsouled and solitary"--the consuming of
energies which had no object to work upon, may have contributed to the
forming of her determination. It must be borne in mind, too, that
she was restrained by no consideration that could interfere with the
project. Alone in the world, there were few to inquire what had
become of her, and still fewer to care for her fate. She felt herself
accountable to no human being.

By keeping the district school for a summer term, she had amassed the
sum of twelve dollars. She purchased a quantity of coarse fustian, and
working at intervals when she could be secure from observation, made up
a suit of men's clothing; each article, as it was finished, being hid
in a stack of hay. Having completed her preparations, she announced her
intention of going where she could obtain better wages for her labor.
Her new clothes, and such articles as she wished to take with her, were
tied in a bundle. The lonely girl departed; but went not far, probably
only to the shelter of the nearest wood, before putting on the disguise
she was so eager to assume. Although not beautiful, her features were
animated and pleasing, and her figure, tall for a woman, was finely
proportioned. As a man, she might have been called handsome; her general
appearance was extremely prepossessing, and her manner calculated to
inspire confidence.

She now pursued her way to the American army, where she presented
herself, in October, 1778, as a young man anxious to join his efforts to
those of his countrymen in their endeavors to oppose the common enemy.
Her acquaintances, meanwhile, supposed her engaged in service at a
distance. Rumors of her elopement with a British soldier, and even of
her death, were afterwards current in the neighborhood where she had
resided; but none were sufficiently interested to make such search for
her as might have led to a discovery.

Distrusting her own constancy, and resolute to continue in the service,
notwithstanding any change of her inclination, she enlisted for the
whole term of the war. She was received and enrolled in the army by the
name of Robert Shirtliffe. She was one of the first volunteers in the
company of Captain Nathan Thayer of Medway, Massachusetts; and as the
young recruit appeared to have no home or connections, the Captain gave
her a home in his family until his company should be full, when they
were to join the main army.

We now find her performing the duties and enduring the fatigues of
military life. During the seven weeks she passed in the family of
Captain Thayer, she had time both for experience and reflection; but in
after years her constant declaration was that she never for one moment
repented or regretted the step she had taken. Accustomed to labor from
childhood, upon the farm and in out-door employment, she had acquired
unusual vigor of constitution; her frame was robust, and of masculine
strength; and having thus gained a degree of hardihood, she was enabled
to acquire great expertness and precision in the manual exercise, and to
undergo what a female delicately nurtured would have found it impossible
to endure. Soon after they had joined the company, the recruits were
supplied with uniforms by a kind of lottery. That drawn by Robert did
not fit; but taking needle and scissors, he soon altered it to suit him.
To Mrs. Thayer's expression of surprise at finding a young man so expert
in using the implements of feminine industry, the answer was--that
his mother having no girl, he had been often obliged to practise the
seamstress's art.

While in the house of Captain Thayer, a young girl visiting his wife
was much in the society of Deborah, or as she was then called, Robert.
Coquettish by nature, and perhaps priding herself on the conquest of the
"blooming soldier," she suffered her growing partiality to be perceived.
Robert on his part felt a curiosity to learn by new experience how soon
a maiden's fancy might be won; and had no scruples in paying attentions
to one so volatile and fond of flirtation, with whom it was not likely
the impression would be lasting. This little piece of romance gave some
uneasiness to the worthy Mrs. Thayer, who could not help observing that
the liking of her fair visitor for Robert was not fully reciprocated.
She took an opportunity of remonstrating with the young soldier, and
showed what unhappiness might be the consequence of such folly, and how
unworthy it was of a brave man to trifle with a girl's feelings. The
caution was taken in good part and it is not known that the "love
passage" was continued, though Robert received at parting some tokens of
remembrance, which were treasured as relics in after years.

For three years our heroine appeared in the character of a soldier,
being part of the time employed as a waiter in the family of Colonel
Patterson. During this time, and in both situations, her exemplary
conduct, and the fidelity with which her duties were performed, gained
the approbation and confidence of the officers. She was a volunteer in
several hazardous enterprises, and was twice wounded, the first time by
a sword cut on the left side of the head. Many were the adventures she
passed through; as she herself would often say, volumes might be filled
with them. Sometimes placed unavoidably in circumstances in which she
feared detection, she nevertheless escaped without the least suspicion
being awakened among her comrades. The soldiers were in the habit of
calling her "Molly," in playful allusion to her want of a beard; but not
one of them ever dreamed that the gallant youth fighting by their side
was in reality a female.

About four months after her first wound she received another severe one,
being shot through the shoulder. Her first emotion when the ball entered
she described to be a sickening terror at the probability that her
sex would be discovered. She felt that death on the battlefield were
preferable to the shame that would overwhelm her, and ardently prayed
that the wound might close her earthly campaign. But, strange as it may
seem, she escaped this time also unsuspected; and soon recovering her
strength, was able again to take her place at the post of duty, and in
the deadly conflict. Her immunity was not, however, destined long to
continue--she was seized with a brain fever, then prevalent among the
soldiers. For the few days that reason struggled against the disease,
her sufferings were indescribable; and most terrible of all was the
dread lest consciousness should desert her, and the secret she had
guarded so carefully be revealed to those around her. She was carried to
the hospital, and there could only ascribe her escape to the number of
patients, and the negligent manner in which they were attended.

Her case was considered a hopeless one, and she perhaps received less
attention on this account. One day the physician of the hospital,
inquiring--"How is Robert?" received from the nurse in attendance the
answer--"Poor Bob is gone." The doctor went to the bed, and taking the
hand of the youth supposed dead, found that the pulse was still feebly
beating; attempting to place his hand on the heart, he perceived that a
bandage was fastened tightly round the breast. This was removed, and to
his utter astonishment he discovered a female patient where he had least
expected one!

This gentleman was Dr. Binney, of Philadelphia. With a prudence,
delicacy and generosity ever afterwards warmly appreciated by the
unfortunate sufferer, he said not a word of his discovery, but paid
her every attention, and provided every comfort her perilous condition
required. As soon as she could be removed with safety, he had taken
her to his own house, where she could receive better care. His family
wondered not a little at the unusual interest manifested for the poor
invalid soldier.

Here occurred another of those romances in real life which in
strangeness surpass fiction. The doctor had a young and lovely niece, an
heiress to considerable property, whose compassionate feelings led her
to join her uncle in bestowing kindness on the friendless youth. Many
censured the uncle's imprudence in permitting them to be so much in each
other's society, and to take drives so frequently together. The doctor
laughed to himself at the warnings and hints he received, and thought
how foolish the censorious would feel when the truth should come out.
His knowledge, meanwhile, was buried in his own bosom, nor shared even
with the members of his family. The niece was allowed to be as much with
the invalid as suited her pleasure. Her gentle heart was touched by the
misfortunes she had contributed to alleviate; the pale and melancholy
soldier, for whose fate no one seemed to care, who had no possession
in the world save his sword, who had suffered so much in the cause of
liberty, became dear to her. She saw his gratitude for the benefits and
kindness received, yet knew by intuition that he would never dare aspire
to the hand of one so gifted by fortune. In the confiding abandonment
of woman's love, the fair girl made known her attachment, and offered to
provide for the education of its object before marriage. Deborah often
declared that the moment in which she learned that she had unwittingly
gained the love of being so guileless, was fraught with the keenest
anguish she ever experienced. In return for the hospitality and tender
care that had been lavished upon her; she had inflicted pain upon one
she would have died to shield. Her former entanglement had caused no
uneasiness, but this was a heart of a different mould; no way of amends
seemed open, except confession of her real character, and to that,
though impelled by remorse and self-reproach, she could not bring
herself. She merely said to the generous girl, that they would meet
again; and though ardently desiring the possession of an education, that
she could not avail herself of the noble offer. Before her departure
the young lady pressed on her acceptance several articles of needful
clothing, such as in those times many of the soldiers received from fair
hands. All these were afterwards lost by the upsetting of a boat,
except the shirt and the vest Robert had on at the time, which are still
preserved as relics in the family.

Her health being now nearly restored, the physician had a long
conference with the commanding officer of the company in which Robert
had served, and this was followed by an order to the youth to carry a
letter to General Washington.

Her worst fears were now confirmed. From the time of her removal into
the doctor's family, she had cherished a misgiving, which sometimes
amounted almost to certainty, that he had discovered her deception. In
conversation with him she anxiously watched his countenance, but not a
word or look indicated suspicion, and she had again flattered herself
that she was safe from detection. When the order came for her to deliver
a letter into the hands of the Commander-in-chief, she could no longer
deceive herself.

There remained no course but simple obedience. When she presented
herself for admission at the headquarters of Washington, she trembled as
she had never done before the enemy's fire. Her heart sank within her;
she strove in vain to collect and compose herself, and overpowered with
dread and uncertainty, was ushered into the presence of the Chief.
He noticed her extreme agitation, and supposing it to proceed from
diffidence, kindly endeavored to re-assure her. He then bade her retire
with an attendant, who was directed to offer her some refreshment, while
he read the communication of which she had been the bearer.

Within a short time she was again summoned into the presence of
Washington. He said not a word, but handed her in silence a discharge
from the service, putting into her hand at the same time a note
containing a few brief words of advice, and a sum of money sufficient
to bear her expenses to some place where she might find a home. The
delicacy and forbearance thus observed effected her sensibly. "How
thankful"--she has often said, "was I to that great and good man who so
kindly spared my feelings! He saw me ready to sink with shame; one word
from him at that moment would have crushed me to the earth. But he spoke
no word--and I blessed him for it."

After the termination of the war, she married Benjamin Gannett, of
Sharon. When Washington was President, she received a letter inviting
Robert Shirtliffe, or rather Mrs. Gannett, to visit the seat of
government. Congress was then in session, and during her stay at the
capital, a bill was passed granting her a pension in addition to certain
lands, which she was to receive as an acknowledgment for her services
to the country in a military capacity. She was invited to the houses of
several of the officers, and to parties given in the city; attentions
which manifested the high estimation in which she was there held.

In 1805 she was living in comfortable circumstances, the wife of a
respectable farmer, and the mother of three fine, intelligent children,
the eldest of whom was a youth of nineteen. The Dedham Register, dated
December, 1820, states that during the late session of the court, Mrs.
Gannett had presented for renewal her claims for services rendered
the country as a _Revolutionary soldier_. She was at that time about
sixty-two; and is described as possessing a clear understanding
and general knowledge of passing events, as being fluent in speech,
delivering her sentiments in correct language, with deliberate and
measured accent; easy in her deportment, affable in her manners, and
robust and masculine in her appearance. She was recognized on her
appearance in court by many persons belonging to the county, who were
ready to testify to her services. A brief notice added of the life of
this extraordinary woman, was copied into many of the papers of the day,
and appears in Niles' "Principles and Acts of the Revolution."

It is but a few years since she passed from the stage of human life.
The career to which her patriotism urged her, cannot be commended as an
example; but her exemplary conduct after the first step will go far to
plead her excuse.




XXXIV. MARGARET GASTON.

|The name of Mrs. Gaston is associated with that of her distinguished
son, to whose education she devoted herself with assiduous care, and
whose eminent character was most appropriately praised when described as
"the maturity of his mother's efforts." He himself always esteemed the
possession of such a parent the greatest blessing of his existence,
and attributes the part he acted in life to her watchful tenderness and
judicious training. No honors are too high to be accorded to matrons
who, like her, have formed the characters which shed lustre on the
nation.

Margaret Sharpe was born in the county of Cumberland, England, about
1755. * Her parents desiring her to have every advantage of education in
the Catholic faith to which they were attached, she was sent to France
when young, and brought up in a convent. She often recurred in after
life to the happy days passed there.

* See Life of Judge Gaston. I am indebted for these particulars
respecting Mrs. Gaston to her accomplished granddaughter, Mrs. Susan G.
Donaldson.

Her two brothers were extensively engaged in commerce in this country,
and she came out to visit them. It was during her sojourn in North
Carolina that she met Dr. Alexander Gaston, a native of Ireland, of
Huguenot ancestry, to whom she was married at Newbern, in the twentieth
year of her age. He had attended the expedition which captured the
Havana, as surgeon in the British army; but being attacked by the
epidemic, and suffering from the exhaustion of a warm climate, had
resigned his post, to make his home in the North American provinces.

The happy married life of these two young persons was destined to be of
brief duration. Dr. Gaston was one of the most zealous patriots in North
Carolina--being a member of the committee of safety for the district
where he resided, and serving in the army at various periods of the
war; and his devotion to the cause of freedom, while it secured the
confidence of the whigs, gained him the implacable enmity of the
opposite party. On the 20th of August, 1781, a body of tories entered
Newbern, being some miles in advance of the regular troops, who had
marched with a view of taking possession of the town. The Americans,
taken by surprise, were forced to give way after an ineffectual
resistance. Gaston, unwilling to surrender to the foe, hurried his wife
and children from their home, hoping to escape across the river, and
thus retire to a plantation eight or ten miles distant. He reached
the wharf with his family, and seized a light scow for the purpose of
crossing the river. But before his wife and children had stepped on
board, the tories, eager for his blood, came galloping in pursuit.
There was no resource but to push off from the shore, where his wife and
little ones stood--the wife alarmed only for him against whom the rage
of their enemies was directed. Throwing herself in agony at their feet,
she implored his life, but in vain! Their cruelty sacrificed him in the
midst of her cries for mercy--and the musket which found his heart was
levelled over her shoulder!

Even the indulgence of grief was denied to the bereaved wife; for she
was compelled to exert her self to protect the remains of her murdered
husband. Loud were the threats of the inhuman tories that the "rebel
should not have even, the rest of the grave;" and she kept watch in
her lonely dwelling beside the beloved and lifeless form, till it was
deposited in the earth. She was now left alone in a foreign land--both
her brothers and her eldest son having died before the event. Her son
William, three years of age, and an infant daughter, remained the
sole objects of her care and love. Many women possessing her acute
sensibility would have been overwhelmed in such a situation; but severe
trials served only to develop the admirable energy of her character.
Every movement of her being guided by religion, she was strong in its
support, and devoted herself to the duties that devolved upon her, with
a firmness and constancy by which all who knew her saw that she lived
above time and above the world.=

```"--Her footsteps seemed to touch, the earth

```Only to mark the track that leads to Heaven."=

Though still young when left a widow, she never laid aside the
habiliments of sorrow; and the anniversary of her husband's murder was
kept as a day of fasting and prayer. The great object of her life
was the instruction of her son, and imbuing his mind with the high
principles, the noble integrity, and Christian faith, which shone
conspicuous in herself. Her income being small she practised economy to
enable her to gratify her dearest wish, and procure for him a complete
education; while her maternal tenderness did not dispense with implicit
obedience, and strict admonitions, or yet stricter discipline, were
employed to correct the faults of childhood and youth. One slight
anecdote may give an idea of her method of education. When her son
was seven or eight years of age, being remarkable for his aptitude and
cleverness, a little schoolmate as much noted for his dullness said to
him--"William, what is the reason you are always head of the class, and
I am always foot?"--"There is a reason," replied the boy; "but if I tell
you, you must promise to keep it a secret, and do as I do. Whenever I
take up my book to study I first say a little prayer my mother taught
me, that I may be able to learn my lessons." He tried to teach the words
of the petition to the dull boy, who could not remember them. The same
night Mrs. Gaston observed William writing behind the door; and as she
permitted nothing her children did to be concealed from her, he was
obliged to confess having been writing out the prayer for little Tommy,
that he might be able to get his lessons.

When this cherished son, after several years absence, returned from
Princeton College, where he had borne away the first honors of the
institution from able and diligent competitors, her reception of him
was characteristic. He was greeted not with the common effusion of a
mother's joy and pride; but she laid

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