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|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.