obtained by the Delaware Battalion in the affair at Long Island. From
the unparalleled bravery they showed in view of all the Generals and
troops within the lines, who alternately praised and pitied them.”
Letter from Caesar Rodney to his brother.
Through the Revolutionary War, Delaware furnished more men in
proportion to its size than any other colony in the Union.
[24] “Nothing,” said a report addressed to the President of Congress,
“Nothing sir, can equal their sufferings except the patience and
fortitude with which the faithful part of the army endure them.”
[25] From the time the Delaware regiment started south, that is April
13th, 1780, until April 7th, 1782, they marched 5006 miles.
[26] In less than a month after the Declaration of Independence,
Delaware had eight hundred men in the field, who fought at Brooklyn,
White Plains, Trenton and Princeton. By April, 1777, we had another
regiment of like number who fought at Brandywine, Germantown, Monmouth,
Camden,—twice at Camden,—Cowpens, Guilford, and at Eutaw; and it never
laid down its arms, though reduced almost to a corporal’s guard, until
Cornwallis laid down his arms at Yorktown.
[Illustration]
How Once Upon A Time Washington Came To Delaware.
[Illustration: “The Stars and Stripes were first unfurled in battle at
Cooch’s Bridge · Sept. 3 · 1777.”]
AT ONE time Washington had his headquarters in Wilmington. It was late
in the summer of 1777 and just before the Battle of Brandywine.
A few weeks earlier the British fleet had sailed out of New York harbor
and had turned toward the south, with all the British army on board. No
one knew where the fleet was going; no one knew where the army would
land and make their next attack, and there was great anxiety.
General Washington and his army were at this time camped in Bucks
county, north of Philadelphia. It was on August twenty-second that a
hot and dusty messenger galloped into camp with news for the General
that the British fleet had been seen in Chesapeake Bay.
As soon as Washington heard this news, orders were given to the army to
break camp, and he marched with them down to Delaware, to be ready to
meet the enemy, and to keep them from attacking Philadelphia, for that
was then the capital of the colonies.
Wilmington at that time was still a small town. It had a few shops,
a market house, and a fire engine company called the “Friendship.”
A new ship-building company had just built and launched their first
boat, which was named the “Wilmington.” But the most important of all
the manufactories were the Brandywine flour mills, which stood on
the Brandywine, some little distance above where it flows into the
Christiana.[27] Washington had the “runners” (or upper stones) taken
from these mills and hauled up into Chester County for fear they might
be seized and used by the British.
Wilmington is very hilly. It has been said of it that it is “as full of
lumps as a napkin thrown over a blackberry bush.”
The steep part of West Street that slopes up from Front to Fourth was
called “Quaker Hill,” for almost all the houses that were there were
owned by Quakers. The houses were built in a prim, plain fashion, but
within they were full of comfort. Furniture, linen, food, were simple
but of the best quality for the Friends knew how to live comfortably,
in spite of their plain ways.
It was in one of these houses that Washington made his headquarters.
The house is still standing, on the west side of the street, between
Third and Fourth Streets.
A little beyond Quaker Hill was an old apple orchard, and still beyond
that were the open country and the wooded hills of the Brandywine.
It was near the Brandywine that the army encamped. In the next few days
soldiers might often be seen kneeling on the edge of the stream to
wash their pieces of clothing. Their voices echoed through the woods in
loud jokes and laughter. Sometimes a trooper in buff and blue brought a
dozen clattering horses down to the water to drink.
Washington was busy sending and receiving dispatches, riding out to
explore the country, and deciding where the best points were upon which
to place his army.
By September the second, our army had been moved to the high lands near
Newport, a few miles from Wilmington. In the afternoon of that day
orders were given to cook provisions and to be ready to march at any
time. The enemy were then near Newark, Delaware, but Washington had
not yet been able to learn how many there were of them, nor where they
meant to attack. However he sent a light corps (of about seven hundred
and twenty men) down in their direction. These men were to hide in the
woods and hollows, and to act as outposts in case the British marched
toward Newark.
It was the next day, September the third, that the British began to
advance toward White Clay creek,—a creek which lay between them and
the Americans. For some miles above Newark the road was open, with
fields and meadows on either hand, and the British marched along it
undisturbed. But when the road dipped into the woods, the bullets
began to sing about their ears like bees. Several of the British were
wounded, for the American riflemen had hidden in the thickets and
hollows of the woods and were shooting at them. The Americans were so
well hidden that the British scarcely knew where to turn their fire.
Some of the British companies left the road to look for them but got
lost in a swamp, and had difficulty in finding their way back to firm
ground.
For some miles this fire continued, but by the time the British had
reached the Christiana creek, near Cooch’s Mill, the shots had almost
stopped.
The bridge across the stream lay still and peaceful in the sunlight.
There was no sound but the ripple of the water against the rocks, and a
cow lowing in the distance.
The first company of the English had hardly set foot on the bridge
however, when a hot fire of bullets poured out at them from the
thickets beside the stream. A company of American riflemen had been
lying there in ambush, and waiting for them. A moment later the
Americans sprang out into the road with cheers, and charged upon them.
A sharp skirmish followed, but the British were too strong, and our men
were driven back leaving several killed and wounded. The British, too,
had their losses, though their loss was not as heavy as that of the
Americans.
This skirmish at Cooch’s Bridge was the first warning Washington had
that the British had advanced their army.
Knowing the British were only a few miles from him, Washington now
expected an attack at any time, and decided to move his army to a high
rise in the ground near Red Clay creek, which was a better position.
Mr. Caleb Byrnes, a miller, had a house on this high ground. Very early
on the morning of September the seventh, he was awakened by the tramp
of marching feet, the sound of loud voices shouting orders, and the
clatter and rumble of gun wagons.
He slipped from bed and crossed to the window and looked out. There
below, he saw long lines and companies of soldiers in buff and blue.
Their bayonets glittered in the sunlight. Sweating horses were pulling
cannon up the slope in front of the house.
Mrs. Byrnes slipped from bed and came over to look from the window,
too. She was shivering with excitement.
“It’s the whole American army,” said Byrnes. He told his wife to waken
the children and then he dressed as quickly as he could and hurried
downstairs and out of the house.
An officer on horseback was there giving orders. The cannon had now
been placed all along the high ground “for half a mile as thick as they
could stand.”[28]
As soon as the officer saw Mr. Byrnes, he rode over to him and said,
“You’d better get out of here as soon as you can. When the battle
begins this house will be shot down and torn to pieces by cannon.”
“And my mill?” asked Mr. Byrnes, pointing to the mill, which stood
about three-quarters of a mile down the road.
“That will probably go, too,” said the officer.
Mrs. Byrnes had now come to the door and stood listening. “Well, I’d
rather stay right here,” she said. “If there’s a battle we’ll take the
children and get under the big arch that is under the chimney in the
cellar; there couldn’t anything hurt us there, anyway.”
Mr. Byrnes agreed with his wife that they had better stay; and in spite
of the warnings of the officers they refused to move. Mr. Byrnes’
brother, who lived near the mill, also refused to leave his house. But
the other neighbors packed up their furniture and took their families
further up in the country, where they might be safe from the cannon.
As it happened, they were no safer than the Byrnes after all, for on
September the ninth, Washington found that the enemy were circling
around him toward the north in the direction of Philadelphia, and he
decided to move on and meet the British at Chadd’s Ford, and force a
battle there.
Marching orders were given, and a few hours later the entire American
army was gone from Delaware.
So ended Washington’s first stay in our state.
But there was another time when Washington was in Delaware. This second
time he was no longer commander-in-chief of a struggling army but the
President of the United States.
The war was over. Liberty was won, and the English had left our shores.
It was December of 1783, and Washington was to pass through Wilmington
on his way from Philadelphia to Mount Vernon, where he was to eat his
Christmas dinner.
People lined the road watching for his coach, and at the top of the
hill children climbed into the trees of the apple orchard so as to see
the better.
At last, from far up the road, came a sound of cheering; the coach was
in sight. Nearer and nearer it came.
In it sat President Washington with his calm, noble face, and his
powdered hair tied in a queue behind. His hat was off, and he bowed
this way and that as the people waved and cheered him.
The Burgess and Council of Wilmington had prepared an address which was
read to him and which he answered. It was only for a few hours that
Washington was here this second time. A long ride was still before him,
and soon he was in his coach again and rolling on his way.
For a while after the President’s coach had started, the little boys
raced along beside him, then the horses broke into a trot that left the
boys behind. The turn of the road was reached, the coach swung around
it, and Washington’s last visit to Delaware was over.
[Illustration: Tablet on House at 3rd & West Streets · Wilmington]
NOTES
[27] Mr. Lea and Mr. Joseph Tatnall were among the mill owners of this
time.
Miss Montgomery, in her “Reminiscences of Wilmington” writes, “Mr.
Tatnall was a true patriot. He alone dared to grind flour for the
famishing army of the Revolution at the risk of the destruction of
his mill. His house was the home of General Lafayette during his
sojourn here. * * * General Washington and other officers received his
hospitality during their residence here.”
[28] Account written by Daniel Byrnes, a son of Caleb Byrnes, in 1842.
[Illustration]
How Once Upon A Time Mary Vining Ruled All Hearts.
[Illustration: “The Green”—Dover]
CHIEF JUSTICE VINING’S house faced “the Green” at Dover.
The Green is a long, open square with grass and trees. On either side
of it are handsome houses and pleasant shady gardens with box trees and
tall, old-fashioned flowers.
It was on the Green, and in these gardens, that the little Vinings and
Rodneys and Ridgelys and other little Dover children of long ago played.
On this Green in 1776, the citizens and Revolutionary soldiers gathered
to build a great bonfire, and burn the portrait of George the Third, no
longer their King.
Along the King’s Road, which runs through it, Caesar Rodney galloped,
on his long ride to Philadelphia, and the brave regiments of Delaware
militia marched away to war.
Among the boys and girls who played on the Green in those days were
the children of the Chief Justice, John and Mary Vining. They were
beautiful children, with curly brown hair, rosy cheeks, and large clear
grey eyes. Their mother had died while they were very young, but their
aunt, Mrs. Ridgely, loved them dearly, and her house was as much home
to them as their own. The year that Mary was fourteen, Chief Justice
Vining also died, and left a large fortune to be divided between his
two children.
Mr. Ridgely had charge of this fortune, and such good care did he take
of it that when John and Mary grew up they were among the richest
people in Delaware. But they were not only rich;—they were handsome
and witty as well. John was such a favorite with everyone, that he
was called “The Pet of Delaware,” and his sister was the belle of the
whole colony. Louis Philippe, Duc d’Orleans, visited her when he was in
America, and Lafayette admired her greatly. The fame of her beauty was
even carried to foreign countries, so that when Jefferson visited the
French queen, Marie Antoinette, one of the first questions she asked
him was whether Miss Vining of Delaware was really as lovely as she was
said to be.
Mary Vining spent as much of her time in Philadelphia as at Dover. In
the winter of 1777, Lord Howe and his English troops were quartered
there, and many of the British officers lost their hearts to the
Delaware belle.
One day, one of her young cousins was studying his Latin in the drawing
room when the door opened and Mary Vining swept in. She went over to
the mirror and stood for some time looking at herself with admiration.
She was in full dress, and her beautiful arms and neck were bare. After
a while she turned from the mirror, and then she saw her young cousin
sitting there and watching her. She smiled and held out her hand to
him. “Come here, you little rogue,” she said “and you may kiss my hand.”
The little boy shook his head shyly and drew back.
Miss Vining laughed. “You might well be glad to,” she said, “‘Princes
have lipped it’.”[29]
Afterward, when the little boy had grown to be a man he often told
this story, and always added, “All the while I thought her the most
beautiful creature I’d ever seen.”
Some of Mary’s friends wondered that she did not marry. “To tell
the truth,” she answered them frankly, “I have grown so used to the
admiration of many men that I do not think I could be content with that
of one.”
Indeed, she had become rather spoiled by so much admiration. She
loved her own way and was determined to have it. She felt she was so
beautiful and rich that she could do whatever she chose. It was one
of her fancies never to walk in the street; she always rode in her
coach or went on horseback, however short the distance, and she always
covered her face with a veil so that people could not stare at her.
At one time General Washington was quartered in Wilmington, and while
he was there many of his officers found time to ride down to Dover to
see Miss Vining. There was one of Washington’s officers whom she had
never met, but she had heard a great deal about him;—that was General
Anthony Wayne. He was at this time a married man, though his wife died
before the close of the war. He seemed to Miss Vining to be the most
brilliant officer in the whole army, and she was never tired of hearing
of his wild exploits. “Mad Anthony Wayne,” they called him. His fellow
officers said he was vain[30] and a boaster; but he was so brave, and
so ready to carry out his boasts that no one dared to laugh at him.
General Washington trusted him so much that he asked his opinion
about almost every important move in the war, and he was the one whom
Washington chose to lead the attack on Stony Point. The storming of
Stony Point was the most daring act of the whole war.
Stony Point is a steep bluff on the Hudson. On three sides of it are
water and on the fourth a deep swamp. The English held it with a
garrison of over five hundred soldiers, and their cannon were set so as
to guard every road to it.
It was the night of July the fifteenth, at half past eleven that Wayne
and his brave company of soldiers set out. They moved in silence, with
not a word spoken, except now and then a whispered command. Orders
had been given that if any soldier left the ranks, no matter for what
reason, he should be instantly killed.[31] This was in order that
no deserter might have a chance to carry news of the surprise to the
British.
To reach the rise of Stony Point, Wayne and his company were obliged to
wade through water two feet deep. Then came the climb up the hill, over
rocks and sharp stones. At last they were near enough to the fort to
hear the call of the sentries. When the signal was given, the Americans
attacked the fort from all sides at once.
The garrison was taken by surprise, and fired wildly; they had no time
to aim their canon. A musket ball struck General Wayne, and made a long
wound in his scalp. He was stunned and fell to the ground, but a moment
later he rose on one knee and waved his sword, “Forward, my brave
fellows! _Forward_,” he shouted.
His wound was not serious, but his soldiers, when they saw him fall,
were filled with fury. They charged into the fort with their bayonets,
climbing over walls and killing those who tried to stop them. Not a
shot was fired by the Americans except at the very first, and then only
to draw the attention of the British in the wrong direction.
This capture of Stony Point made General Wayne famous. He was said to
be the most brilliant officer in the army. Praises were showered on
him,[32] and later on he was made General-in-Chief of the army.
Years slipped by and the war came to an end. The American colonies were
free, and the English left our shores and sailed back to their own
country.
General Wayne was by this time a widower, and Mary Vining was no longer
young. But though she was not young she was as beautiful, and witty and
charming as ever.
She was almost forty when news came to her cousins in Dover that
she was engaged to be married to General Wayne. At first they could
not believe it. General Wayne was a brave soldier, he was handsome,
generous and honest, but he had been brought up on a farm, and he had
none of the elegance of the foreign officers, who had been her friends.
But Mary Vining loved him, and was determined to marry him. The time
for the wedding was set. It was to be in January, and Miss Vining
began to make ready for it. Her house was already handsome, but she
refurnished it, from top to bottom. General Wayne gave her a set of
India china, and she bought a new service of silver.
In December, Wayne was sent west by the government, to make a treaty
with the Maumee Indians. He had fought with them and defeated them the
year before, and they would be more ready to treat with him than with
any one else. He was to return to Delaware by the first of January.
But the brave soldier never returned. At the first of the year, on New
Year’s Day, word was brought to Miss Vining that he had died at Presque
Isle, on Lake Erie.
Miss Vining immediately put on mourning for General Wayne, and this
mourning she never laid aside again as long as she lived.
Soon after Wayne’s death, her brother, “The Pet of Delaware,” died too.
It was found that he had spent, not only all his own fortune, but his
sister’s as well. She was now a poor woman. Nothing was left her but a
little house in Wilmington called “The Willows,” which stood where the
du Pont building now stands, and which had once belonged to her mother.
She was obliged to sell her coach and horses, and she sent away her
servants.
Her brother had left four children, and she made these her care for the
rest of her life. She brought them up and educated them.
The china that had been General Wayne’s last gift to her, was never
used, but was kept by her as her most precious treasure.
She saw almost no one at “The Willows,” but the few who were allowed
to visit her, found her always in black, and with her beautiful hair
hidden under a widow’s cap. But she was still, even in old age, as
gracious, as witty and charming as when she had been the wealthy and
courted _Belle of Delaware_.[33]
[Illustration: State flower Peach-blossom.]
NOTES
[29] Quoted from Shakespeare’s “Antony and Cleopatra.”
[30] It seemed strange that the hero of Stony Point should have been a
vain man; but he was said to be vain both for himself and his regiment.
At the beginning of the war he told his regiment that there would be
a barber in each company to shave the soldiers and dress their hair;
(their hair was to be plaited and powdered) and that any man who came
on parade with a long beard, carelessly dressed, or dirty, was to be
punished. He told General Washington he would rather lead his men into
action well dressed and with only one round of cartridges, than with
all the ammunition that they needed and yet ragged and dirty.
[31] This was no vain threat. During the attack one unfortunate soldier
stepped out of the ranks to load his musket, and the officer in charge
immediately ran him through with his bayonet.
[32] One of Wayne’s friends wrote that the only drawback to the attack
was that the General would probably lose his hearing;—he would be
deafened by his own praises.
[33] The grave of Mary Vining is in the Old Swedes’ Church yard in
Wilmington.
[Illustration]
How Once Upon A Time MacDonough Sailed The Sea.
[Illustration: A “Frigate”—Old-time War-Ship · 1800]
COMMODORE THOMAS MACDONOUGH was sometimes called “the Boy Commodore,”
for he was the youngest Commodore in the American navy.
He was born December, thirty-first, 1783, on a farm in New Castle
county where his father and grandfather had lived before him.
When he was seventeen he joined the navy as a Midshipman, and made his
first cruise on the ship “Ganges.”
He was a tall, thin, shy youth. He was never strong, but he was so
brave that he was ready for any dangers or hardships. Cooper called him
“the modest but lion-hearted MacDonough.”
At the time MacDonough joined the navy, the United States was at war
with France, and his first cruise was against the French in the West
Indies. The “Ganges” captured three of the enemy’s vessels, and sent
them home as prizes. Then the yellow fever broke out on board the
“Ganges.” MacDonough was one of the men who had it. He and the other
sick men were carried on shore to a miserable dirty Spanish hospital at
Havana. Here, for many weeks, he lay ill.
When he was able to get up and go about again he found that the
“Ganges” had sailed away, and that he was left, poor, alone, and almost
without clothing, in a strange land. All the Americans who had been
brought to the hospital had died except himself and two others. These
two were in as much distress as himself. The American agent at Havana
gave them some shirts and other pieces of clothing, and they got back
to the United States on a sailing vessel.
MacDonough landed at Norfolk, Virginia, and worked his way back to
Delaware. He had been away from home a year, and his family had never
expected to see him again; they had been told he had the yellow
fever at Havana, and was either dying or already dead. They could
hardly believe it was he when he walked in among them, thin, pale
and weak-looking, but still alive. The whole house was filled with
rejoicings. He was still dressed as he had been when he left Havana, in
worn out clothes, a straw hat and canvas shoes.
As soon as he was able, he went back to the “Ganges,” and was
with her until he was ordered to the Mediterranean on the frigate
“Philadelphia.”
We were then at war with Tripoli. Soon after the “Philadelphia” reached
the Mediterranean, they captured a Moorish vessel, and MacDonough was
sent on board of her to take her to Gibraltar.
It was a very lucky thing for MacDonough that he was ordered on to this
other vessel, for very soon after he left the “Philadelphia” she ran
aground, and was captured by the enemy. All the men and officers on
board of her were taken prisoner.
After the “Philadelphia” was taken by the enemy, the Americans were
very anxious to destroy it, for now the enemy had the ship and might
use it as a war vessel. But it seemed as though it would be almost
impossible to destroy the “Philadelphia.” It lay in the harbor of
Tripoli, close under the fortress, and above it were the black mouths
of the cannon. If the Tripoli gunners had seen any American ship come
into the harbor, they would have blown it to pieces rather than let it
come near their prize.
The only way to get to the vessel would be by using some trick.