|Many incidents and scenes of Revolutionary times are remembered, of
the actors in which little is known beyond what is contained in the
anecdotes themselves. A few of these are subjoined as aiding our general
object of illustrating the spirit and character of the women of those
days. Fragmentary as they are--they have some interest in this light,
and it seems a duty to preserve them as historical facts, which may
possibly prove of service in future inquiries.
The county of Sussex in New Jersey, was noted for its number of tories.
A party of them one night attacked and broke into the house of Mr.
Maxwell, the father of General William Maxwell. Their first assault was
upon the old man, who was eighty years of age; and having felled him
with repeated blows, so that his skull was fractured, they left him for
dead, and proceeded to plunder the house. Mrs. Maxwell was compelled to
direct them to the place where her husband's money was kept, and to send
a female domestic to show them the way. They had determined, when their
work should be finished, to make an attack on the house of Captain John
Maxwell--the General's brother, who lived about a mile distant, and whom
they supposed to have in his possession a large sum of money, he being
commissary in the army. But their design of obtaining the spoil was
frustrated by the timely information given by the negroes, who, escaping
from the old gentleman's house, gave warning to the family of the
young officer. John afterwards arrested one of the robbers in the
neighborhood, before he had time to change his bloody garments. The
others succeeded in effecting their escape.
Some British officers quartered themselves at the house of Mrs.
Dissosway, situated at the western end of Staten Island, opposite Amboy.
Her husband was a prisoner; but her brother, Captain Nat. Randolph,
who was in the American army, gave much annoyance to the tories by his
frequent incursions. A tory colonel once promised Mrs. Dissosway to
procure the release of her husband, on condition of her prevailing upon
her brother to stay quietly at home. "And if I could," she replied, with
a look of scorn, and drawing up her tall figure to its utmost height,
"if I could act so dastardly a part, think you that General Washington
has but one Captain Randolph in his army?"
The cattle and horses of many of the whig residents on Staten Island
having been driven away by the loyalists--they had no means of attending
divine worship. After the establishment of Independence, one winter's
day, when several families of those who had suffered during the war,
were returning in their sleighs from "meeting," the word was given by
Mr. Dissosway to stop before the house of a tory captain. He gave a
loud thump with the handle of his whip at the door, and when the captain
appeared, said--"I called, sir, to inform you that 'the rebels' have
been to church; it is their turn, now, to give thanks!" He then returned
to his sleigh and drove on.
Among the noble spirits whose heroism has never been known beyond the
circle of their personal acquaintance, was Mrs. Jackson, who resided
on a farm upon Staten Island. The island, as is known, was a "nest of
tories;" and it was thought proper to banish her husband, on account
of his zeal in the cause of his country, although he had not joined the
army. He was nine months confined in the Provost, and the remainder of
two years was on his parole on Long Island and in the vicinity. During
his absence the house was for a great part of the time the abode of
British officers and soldiers, who made themselves quite at home in
the use of every thing. On one occasion a soldier, carrying through the
house a tin pail, used for milking, was asked by the mistress what
he meant to do with it. "My master wants to bathe his feet," was the
insolent reply. "Carry it instantly back," said the resolute lady,
authoritatively; "not for your master's master shall you touch what you
have no business with!" By the exhibition of such firmness and spirit
she saved herself much inconvenience.
This lady was in the habit of sending provisions from time to time, to
the American army on the opposite shore. This she was obliged to do with
the utmost secrecy; and many a time would she set going the mill which
belonged to her husband--to allow the black man she employed to cross
the water unsuspected by the watchful enemy. At one time, having a calf
which she was anxious to send to the suffering American soldiers, she
kept it concealed all day under her bed, having muzzled it to prevent
its cries. * She sometimes came to New York, with friends, to visit
prisoners in the Provost. They were received on such occasions at
Whitehall by a gentleman, who, though of whig principles, had been
permitted to remain in the city--the father of one whose genius has
rendered his name illustrious. He was in the habit of accompanying the
ladies to the prison, and directed them, when they wished to convey
money to the captives, to drop it silently as they went past, while he
would walk just behind, so as to screen them from the observation of the
stern provost-marshal.
* These facts were given the writer by the daughter of Mrs. Jackson.
On one occasion, Mrs. Jackson received intelligence that one of the
American generals was coming to her house in the night, to surprise and
capture the enemy quartered there. She gave no information to her guests
of what awaited them, till there was reason to believe the whig force
was just at hand. Then, unwilling to have her house made the scene of
a bloody contest, she knocked at each of the doors, crying out, "Run,
gentlemen, run! or you are all prisoners!" They waited for no second
bidding, and made their escape. Mrs. Jackson used afterwards to give a
ludicrous description of their running off--each man with his boots and
clothes in his hands.
Mr. Jackson's house was robbed after his return home. A knock was
heard at the door one night, and on opening it he felt a pistol pressed
against his breast, while a gruff voice bade him be silent, on pain
of instant death. His little daughter uttered a terrified scream,
and received a violent blow on the forehead with the pistol from the
ruffian, which stretched her upon the floor. The house was then stripped
of all that could be taken away; and the path of the villains might have
been traced next morning by the articles dropped as they carried off the
plunder. The family believed this to have been done by tories, whom
they found at all times much more cruel and rapacious than the British
soldiers.
Mary Bowen, the sister of Jabez Bowen, Lieutenant Governor of Rhode
Island, was celebrated for her charitable efforts in behalf of those who
suffered in the war. Through her influence and exertions a petition
was addressed to the commandant at Providence for the lives of two
soldiers--brothers--who had been condemned as deserters. The petition
was successful, and the reprieve was read when the prisoners were on the
scaffold. Miss Bowen was active in collecting charitable contributions
for clothing for the army, and assisted in making up the material,
exerting herself to interest others in the same good work. General La
Fayette was one of her visitors, and maintained a correspondence with
her. Her information was extensive, her manners gentle and pleasing; and
she had the respect and affection of all who knew her. Her brother, who
resided at Providence, was in the habit of entertaining persons of high
distinction. Rochambeau occupied part of his house during his stay in
the town.
A gentleman residing in Charlottesville, to whom application was made
for personal recollections of the Baroness de Riedesel, mentions the
following instance of female patriotism.
At the time that Tarleton with his corps of cavalry was working a secret
and forced march to surprise and capture the Governor and
Legislature of Virginia--the latter then holding its session in
Charlottesville--several of the members chanced to be at the house of
Colonel John Walker, distant some twelve miles from the town. This was
directly on the route; and the first intimation the family had of the
enemy's approach, was the appearance of Tarleton's legion at their
doors. Colonel Walker was at the time on service with the troops in
Lower Virginia. Having made prisoners of one or two members of the
Legislature, Colonel Tarleton ordered breakfast for himself and his
officers and men. Mrs. Walker, who was a staunch whig, knew well that
the design of her unwelcome guest was to proceed to Charlottesville, and
plunder and destroy the public stores there collected. She delayed as
long as possible the preparations for breakfast, for the purpose of
enabling the members who had escaped to reach the town, and to remove
and secrete such portions of stores as could be saved. Her patriotic
stratagem gained time for this. Tarleton remained but a day or two
at Charlottesville, and then hurried back to join the main army under
Cornwallis.
Of the same kind was the service rendered by Mrs. Murray, which Thacher
has acknowledged in his Journal.
On the retreat from New York, Major General Putnam with his troops, was
the last to leave the city. To avoid any parties of the enemy that might
be advancing towards it, he made choice of a road along the river from
which, at a certain point, another road would conduct him in a direction
to join the American army. It happened that a force of British and
Hessians more than twice as large as his own, was advancing on the
road at the same time, and but for a fortunate occurrence, would have
encountered that of General Putnam, before he could have reached the
turn into the other road. In ignorance that an enemy was before them,
the British officers halted their troops, and stopped at the house
of Robert Murray, a Quaker, and friend to the whig cause. Mrs. Murray
treated them with cake and wine, and by means of her refreshments
and agreeable conversation, beguiled them to stay a couple of
hours--Governor Tryon jesting with her occasionally about her American
friends. She might have turned the laugh upon him; for one half hour, it
is said, would have enabled the British to secure the road at the turn,
and cut off Putnam's retreat. The opportunity was lost--and it became a
common saying among the officers, that Mrs. Murray had saved this part
of the American army.
The following record of an instance of female patriotism has appeared in
several of the journals. It is relied upon as fact by the friends of the
family who reside in the neighborhood where the occurrence took place,
and there is no reason to doubt its authenticity. A grand-nephew of the
heroine is living near Columbia, South Carolina.
"At the time General Greene retreated before Lord Rawdon from
Ninety-Six, when he had passed Broad River, he was very desirous to send
an order to General Sumter, then on the Wateree, to join him, that they
might attack Rawdon, who had divided his force. But the country to be
passed through was for many miles full of blood-thirsty tories, and it
was a difficult matter to find a man willing to undertake so dangerous
a mission. At length a young girl--Emily Geiger, presented herself to
General Greene proposing to act as his messenger; and the General, both
surprised and delighted, closed with her proposal. He accordingly wrote
a letter and gave it to her, at the same time communicating the contents
verbally, to be told to Sumter in case of accident. Emily was young,
but as to her person or adventures on the way, we have no further
information, except that she was mounted on horseback, upon a
side-saddle, and on the second day of her journey was intercepted by
Lord Rawdon's scouts. Coming from the direction of Greene's army, and
not being able to tell an untruth without blushing, she was shut up; and
the officer in command having the modesty not to search her at the time,
he sent for an old tory matron as more fitting for the purpose. Emily
was not wanting in expedients, and as soon as the door was closed, she
ate up the letter, piece by piece. After a while the matron arrived.
Upon searching carefully, nothing was to be found of a suspicious nature
about the prisoner, and she would disclose nothing. Suspicion being
thus allayed, the officer commanding the scouts suffered Emily to depart
whither she said she was bound. She took a route somewhat circuitous to
avoid further detection, and soon after struck into the road to Sumter's
camp, where she arrived in safety. She told her adventure, and delivered
Greene's verbal message to Sumter, who in consequence soon after joined
the main army at Orangeburg. Emily Geiger afterwards married a rich
planter on the Congaree. She has been dead thirty-five years, but it is
trusted her name will descend to posterity among those of the patriotic
females of the Revolution."
It is said that the first Governor Griswold, of Connecticut, was once
indebted to a happy thought of his wife for his escape from the British,
to whom he was extremely obnoxious. He was at home, but expected to
set out immediately for Hartford, to meet the legislature, which had
commenced its session a day or two previous. The family residence was
at Blackhall, opposite Saybrook Point, and situated on the point of land
formed by Connecticut River on the east, and Long Island Sound on the
south. British ships were lying in the Sound; and as the Governor was
known to be at this time in his own mansion, a boat was secretly sent on
shore for the purpose of securing his person. Without previous warning,
the family were alarmed by seeing a file of marines coming up from
the beach to the house. There was no time for flight. Mrs. Griswold
bethought herself of a large meat barrel, or tierce, which had been
brought in a day or two before and was not yet filled. Quick as thought,
she decided that the Governor's proportions--which were by no means
slight--must be compressed into this, the only available hiding place.
He was obliged to submit to be stowed in the cask and covered. The
process occupied but a few moments, and the soldiers presently entered.
Mrs. Griswold was of course innocent of all knowledge of her husband's
whereabouts, though she told them she well knew the legislature was in
session, and that business required his presence at the capital. The
house and cellar having been searched without success, the soldiers
departed. By the time their boat reached the ship, the Governor on
his powerful horse was galloping up the road on his way to Hartford.
* Blackhall, in Lyme, Connecticut, is still the residence of the
Griswolds.
* This traditional anecdote is communicated by a relative of the family,
who believe it entirely authentic.
A man named Hubbs, who had served with the bloody tory and renegade
Cunningham in South Carolina was an "outlier" during the war. At one
time he proposed, with two confederates, to rob an old man of Quaker
habits--Israel Gaunt--who was reputed to be in the possession of money.
The three rode up one evening to the house and asked lodging, which
was refused. Hubbs rode to the kitchen door--in which Mrs. Gaunt was
standing, and asked for water. He sprang in while she turned to get
the water, and as she handed it to him she saw his arms. Her husband,
informed of this, secured the doors. Hubbs presented his pistol at him;
but his deadly purpose was frustrated by the old man's daughter,
Hannah. She threw up the weapon, and, being of masculine proportions
and strength, grappled with, and, threw him on the floor, where she
held him, though wounded by his spurs--in spite of his desperate
struggles--till he was disabled by her father's blows. Gaunt was wounded
through the window by Hubbs' companions, and another ball grazed his
heroic daughter just above the eye; but both escaped without further
injury. Hannah afterwards married a man named Mooney. The gentleman who
relates the foregoing incident * has often seen her, and describes her
as one of the kindest and most benevolent of women. She died about
the age of fifty, and her grandson, a worthy and excellent man, is now
living in the village of Newberry.
* The Hon. Judge O'Neall of South Carolina. He gives this incident
and that of Mrs. Lee's exploit, in his "Random Recollections of
Revolutionary Characters and Incidents," published in the Southern
Literary Journal, 1838, pp. 104, 105.
The same company of marauders, with Moultrie, another of Cunningham's
gang, visited Andrew Lee's house, at Lee's Ferry, Saluda River, for the
purpose of plunder. Moultrie succeeded in effecting an entrance into the
house. Lee seized and held him, and they fell together on a bed; when
he called to his wife, Nancy, to strike him on the head with an axe.
Her first blow, in her agitation, fell on her husband's hand; but she
repeated it, and stunned Moultrie, who fell on the floor insensible.
Lee, with his negroes and dogs, then drove away the other robbers, and
on his return secured Moultrie, who was afterwards hanged in Ninety-Six.
In the collections of the Maine Historical Society is an account of the
exertions of the O'Brien family. The wife of one of a party who left
Pleasant River settlement, on an expedition, found a horn of powder
after their departure, and knowing their want of it, followed them
twenty miles through the woods--for there were no roads--to bring it to
her husband. Hazard's Register * gives a notice of Margaret Durham, one
of the early settlers of a portion of Pennsylvania, who shared largely
in the toils and dangers of the war.
* Vol. IV., page 192.
When the thinly-scattered population fled before the savages, she was
overtaken, scalped, and left for dead; but recovered to be an example
of Christian faith and virtue. The daughter of a miller in Queens County
defended her father from his brutal assailants at the risk of her life,
when men who witnessed the cruelty dared offer no assistance. "The death
bed of Mercer was attended by two females of the Society of Friends,
who, like messengers from heaven, smoothed his pillow, and cheered his
declining hours. They inhabited the house to which he was carried,
and refusing to fly during the battle, were there when he was brought,
wounded and dying, to the threshold."
When the wife of General Woodhull, who perished under the inhuman
treatment he received at the hands of his captors, reached his bed-side,
it was only in time to receive his last sigh. She distributed the
wagon-load of provisions she had brought, for the relief of the other
American prisoners. *
* Revolutionary Incidents of Queens County, by H. Onderdonk, Jr.
Rebecca Knapp, who died recently in Baltimore, was one of those who
relieved the American prisoners in Philadelphia, by carrying them
provisions from her own table. Others were associated in the same good
work in New York. Mary Elmendorf, who lived in Kingston, Ulster County,
studied medicine, that, in the absence of the physicians, who were
obliged to be with the army, she might render assistance to the poor
around her. Mrs. Speakman, of Philadelphia, daily visited the soldiers
who were brought into the city ill of the camp fever, and placed in
empty houses--carrying food and medicines, and ministering to their
wants. Eleven in one house were restored through her kind attentions.
The journal of Rev. Thomas Andross, who escaped from a prison ship
through Long Island, alludes frequently to female kindness and
assistance. These prison ships were indeed store houses of pestilence
and misery. A large transport--the Whitby--was the first anchored in the
Wallabout; she was moored October 20th, 1776, and crowded with American
prisoners, whom disease, bad provisions, and deprivation, of air and
light, soon reduced to a pitiable condition. The sand-beach and ravine
near were filled with graves, "scratched along the sandy shore." One of
these ships of death was burned the following year--fired, it is said,
by the sufferers, who were driven to desperation. *
* Thompson's History of Long Island.
Mr. Andross thus describes the old Jersey, in which he was a prisoner:
"Her dark and filthy exterior corresponded with the death and despair
reigning within. It is supposed that eleven thousand American seamen
perished in her. None came to relieve their woes. Once or twice, by
order of a stranger on the quarter-deck, a bag of apples was hurled
promiscuously into the midst of hundreds of prisoners, crowded as thick
as they could stand--and life and limbs were endangered in the struggle.
The prisoners were secured between the decks by iron gratings; and when
the ship was to be cleared of water, an armed guard forced them up to
the winches, amid a roar of execrations and reproaches--the dim light
adding to the horrors of the scene. Thousands died whose names have
never been known; perishing when no eye could witness their fortitude,
nor praise their devotion to their country."
A very interesting account is given in Dwight's Travels of the capture
and escape of General Wadsworth. He had been for many years a member of
Congress--and was sent by the legislature of Massachusetts to command in
the District of Maine. In February, 1781, he dismissed his troops, and
made preparations for his return to Boston. His wife and her friend Miss
Fenno, who had accompanied him, shared in the peril, when, by order of
the commander of the British fort, an attack was made on the house where
the General lodged. It was near midnight, the weather being severely
cold, and the ground covered with snow, when the enemy came suddenly
upon the sentinel, and forced an entrance into the guard-room. Another
party of them at the same instant fired through the windows of Mrs.
Wadsworth's apartment; a third forcing their way through the windows
into Miss Fenno's room. The two terrified women had only time to dress
hastily, when the intruders assailed the barred door of the General's
chamber. He made a brave defence, but at length, being wounded in the
arm, was compelled to surrender.
With the most admirable self-command, Mrs. Wadsworth and her friend gave
no expression to their own agitated feelings, intent only on relieving
those of the wounded prisoner. The wife wrapped a blanket round him, and
Miss Fenno tied a handkerchief round his arm, to check the effusion of
blood. In this condition, his strength almost exhausted, he was carried
off and the ladies were left behind in their desolated house. Not a
window had escaped destruction; the doors were broken down, two of the
rooms set on Fire, the floors drenched with blood; and an old soldier,
desperately wounded, was begging for death, that he might be released
from his sufferings. The neighboring inhabitants, who came to see what
had happened, spared no labor--so that the next day they could be more
comfortable; but the anxiety endured on the General's account could not
be relieved by any kind attentions to themselves.
In about two months, Mrs. Wadsworth and her friend obtained permission
to visit the prisoner, in the gloomy solitude of his quarters at
Bagaduce. Parting from him at the end of ten days, Miss Fenno contrived
to give him an intimation of the knowledge she had gained that he
was not to be exchanged, by saying in a significant manner, "General
Wadsworth--take care of yourself." The General soon understood this
caution, learning that he was regarded as a prisoner of too much
consequence to be trusted with his liberty. The account of his
imprisonment, his remarkable escape, and his adventures wandering
through the wilderness, before reaching the settlements on the river
St. George, where he found friends--has all the interest of the wildest
romance, but would here be out of place. His wife and Miss Fenno had
sailed for Boston before his arrival at Portland. They were overtaken by
a violent storm, and barely escaped shipwreck--being obliged to land at
Portsmouth. There they had a new source of anxiety. The wife had left
all her specie with her captive husband, and the continental bills
had lost their currency. Without money, and without friends, after
meditating on various expedients, she at last remembered that she had
one acquaintance in the place. To him the wanderers applied--receiving
assistance which enabled them to return to Boston, where a happy reunion
terminated the distresses of the family. It may be added that General
Wadsworth was an ancestor of the distinguished American poet, Henry
Wadsworth Longfellow.
Immediately before the battle of Bennington, General Stark, with several
of his officers, stopped to obtain a draught of milk and water, at the
house of Mr. Munro, a loyalist, who chanced to be absent. One of the
officers walked up to Mrs. Munro, and asked where her husband was.
She replied that she did not know; whereupon he drew his sword, and
endeavored to intimidate her into a more satisfactory answer. The
General, hearing the commotion, severely reproved the officer for his
uncivil behavior to a woman; and the offender went out, apparently
much abashed. Mrs. Munro always remembered Stark's words--"Come on, my
boys,"--as they marched to battle. The firing continued till late; and
after a sleepless night, Mrs. Munro and her sister repaired with
the earliest dawn to the battle-field, carrying pails of milk and
water,--and wandering among heaps of slain and wounded, relieved the
thirst of many sufferers, of whom some--the Hessians--were unable to
express their thankfulness, save by the mute eloquence of grateful
looks. Towards noon, wagons were sent to convey them to hospitals, and
to bring away the dead for burial. This was not the only occasion on
which Mrs. Munro was active in relieving distress, nor was her share of
hardship and trial a light one. *
A spirit kindred to that of Mrs. Motte was exhibited by Mrs. Borden at
a period when American prospects were most clouded. New Jersey being
overrun by the British, an officer stationed at Bordentown, **
endeavored to intimidate her into using her influence over her husband
and son. They were absent in the American army when she was visited at
her residence for this purpose. The officer promised that if she
would induce them to quit the standard they followed and join the
royalists--her property should be protected; while in case of refusal,
her estate would be ravaged and her elegant mansion destroyed. Mrs.
Borden answered by bidding the foe begin the threatened havoc. "The
sight of my house in flames," she said, "would be a treat to me; for I
have seen enough to know that you never injure what you have power
to keep and enjoy. The application of a torch to my dwelling I should
regard as a signal for your departure."
* This fact is mentioned by a descendent of Mrs. Munro.
** Said by Major Garden to be Lord Cornwallis.
The house was burned in fulfillment of the threat, and the property
laid waste; but as the owner had predicted, the retreat of the spoiler
quickly followed.
The spirit exhibited by Mrs. Thomas Heyward, of Charleston, S. C, is as
worthy of remembrance. A British order having been issued for a general
illumination, in honor of the victory of Guilford, it was remarked that
the house occupied by her and her sister showed no light. An officer
called to demand the reason of this mark of disrespect to the order.
In reply, Mrs. Heyward asked how she could be expected to join in
celebrating a victory claimed by the British army, while her husband
was a prisoner at St. Augustine? The answer was a peremptory command to
illuminate. "Not a single light"--said the lady--"shall with my consent
be placed in any window in the house." To the threat that it should
be destroyed before midnight, she answered with the same expression
of resolute determination. When, on the anniversary of the battle of
Charleston, another illumination was ordered in testimony of joy for
that event, Mrs. Heyward again refused compliance. Her sister was lying
in the last stage of a wasting disease. The indignation of the mob was
vented in assaults upon the house with brickbats and other missiles; and
in the midst of the clamor and shouting, the invalid expired. The town
major afterwards expressed his regret for the indignities, and requested
Mrs. Heyward's permission to repair the damages done to the house. She
thanked him, but refused, on the ground that the authorities could not
thus cause insults to be forgotten, which they should not have permitted
to be offered. *
* Garden, First Series, p. 227.
An American soldier, flying from pursuit, sought the protection of Mrs.
Richard Shubrick. The British, who followed him, insisted with threats
that he should be delivered into their hands. While the other ladies in
the house were too much frightened to offer remonstrance, this young
and fragile creature withstood the enemy. With a delicacy of frame that
bespoke feeble health, she possessed a spirit strong in the hour of
trial: and her pale cheek could flush, and her eyes sparkle with scorn
for the oppressor. She placed herself resolutely at the door of
the apartment in which the fugitive had taken refuge, declaring her
determination to defend it with her life. "To men of honor," she said,
"the chamber of a lady should be sacred as a sanctuary!"
The officer, struck with admiration at her intrepidity immediately
ordered his men to retire.
On another occasion, when a party of Tarleton's dragoons was plundering
the house of one of her friends, a sergeant followed the overseer into
the room where the ladies were assembled. The old man refused to tell
him where the plate was hidden, and the soldier struck him with a sabre;
whereupon Mrs. Shubrick, starting up, threw herself between them, and
rebuked the ruffian for his barbarity. She bade him strike her, if
he gave another blow, for she would protect the aged servant. Her
interposition saved him from further injury.
The family of Dr. Channing, on their way from France to America, not
long after the commencement of the war, were attacked by a privateer.
During the engagement that ensued, Mrs. Channing remained on deck,
handing cartridges, with encouraging speeches to the crew, and assisting
the wounded. When the colors of the vessel were struck, she seized
the pistols and side-arms of her husband, and flung them into the sea,
declaring that they, at least, should not be surrendered to the enemy.
An anecdote is related of Mrs. Daniel Hall, who was a guest in the house
of Mrs. Sarah Reeve Gibbes when the British surrounded it. It is said
that having obtained permission from the authorities then in power, to
go to Johns' Island on a visit to her mother, she was stopped when going
on board by an officer who demanded the key of her trunk. She asked him
what he wished to look for. "For treason--madam," he replied. "Then,"
retorted Mrs. Hall, "you may be saved the trouble of search, for you may
find enough of it at my tongue's end." *
* Garden's Revolutionary Anecdotes.
It is well known that the name of Gustavus Conyngham, the captain of one
of the first privateers under the American flag, was one of terror to
the British. The print of him exposed in the shops of London, labelled,
"The Arch Rebel," and representing a man of gigantic frame and ferocious
countenance, was one of the expressions indicating the popular fear
attached to his name. He was repeatedly captured by the enemy, and
treated with barbarous severity, being only saved from death by the
resolution of Congress that his execution should be avenged by that of
certain royalist officers then in custody. While he was a prisoner
in irons on board one of their vessels, his wife made an eloquent and
touching appeal in his behalf, in a letter to General Washington, which
was laid before Congress. "To have lost a beloved and worthy husband in
battle," she says, "would have been a light affliction;" but her courage
failed at the thought of the suffering, despair, and ignominious death
that awaited him. The interposition she besought was granted, and saved
the prisoner's life.
A letter written from Antigua, published in the Pennsylvania Register,
gives an account of Mrs. Conyngham's romantic introduction to the noted
hero who was afterwards her husband. She was, with two other ladies,
at sea, and shared the common fear of meeting with some American
privateer--"the Revenge" in particular--cruising near the West India
Islands. The Captain was pacing the quarter-deck with a glass in his
hand, and was pressed with many questions as to the danger by his
fair passengers, who had heard dreadful accounts of the cruelty of the
Americans. Suddenly a cry from aloft--"A sail! a sail!" caused general
confusion. "The captain hastened up the shrouds, gave orders to the
man at the helm, and remained some minutes watching the approaching
suspicious stranger; then coming on deck, said that the vessel
looked d--d rakish; he had no doubt it was a privateer, probably the
Revenge--the terror of those seas.' The ladies were in tears, and
withdrew to the cabin half fainting from apprehension." There was no
prospect of escape; the sail gradually drew near; a gun was fired, and
the pursued vessel lay to. A boat put off from the stranger, and two
officers and several men were soon upon her deck. The spokesman wore
a blue roundabout and trow-sers, and was well armed; he was about
twenty-five, of a light and active figure; his sunburnt face showed much
intelligence, and was, withal, interesting from a shade of melancholy.
He made some inquiries concerning the vessel, cargo, and passengers, and
on being informed there were ladies in the cabin, colored, and observed
to his lieutenant--that he would have to go and say to them, the
passengers were not prisoners, but guests. The lieutenant replied that
he had not "confidence enough to speak to them," and the other went into
the cabin. The fears of the ladies were soon dispelled, and the youngest
asked the officer, with much naïveté, if he was really a pirate. "I am
captain of an American privateer," he answered, "and he, I trust, cannot
be a pirate."
"Are you the captain of 'the Revenge'?"
"I am."
"Is it possible you are the man represented to be a bloody and ferocious
pirate, whose chief delight is in scenes of carnage?"
"I am that person of whom these nursery tales have been told; whose
picture is hung up to frighten children. I have suffered much from
British prisons and from British calumny; but my sufferings will never
make me forget the courtesy due to ladies."
During the few days the vessels were together, the chivalrous spirit of
Conyngham, and his kindness towards the passengers, won their esteem,
and they listened with pleasure to the lieutenant's account of his
gallant achievements on the seas. The beautiful Miss Anne --------, who
chatted with him in so sprightly a manner, was, a day or two afterwards,
with her two companions, put on board a vessel bound to one of the
islands. When the writer of the letter saw her again at L'Orient, some
time afterwards, she was the wife of the far-famed captain of "the
Revenge."
The case of Sir Charles Asgill, a young officer of the British Guards,
selected by lot for execution in retaliation for the murder of Captain
Huddy, was made the ground-work of a French tragedy by Sau-vigny,
represented in Paris, in 1789. The story of his imprisonment--the
sufferings of his mother and family while the doom hung over him--her
appeal to the King and Queen of France--their intercession, and the
final relenting of Congress--is one of deep and touching interest. It is
included, with the letters of Lady Asgill, in many of the books on the
Revolution.