MOLLY PITCHER AT MONMOUTH.
The battle of Monmouth was one of the most severely contested engagements of the Revolution. From the rising to the setting sun, on that sultry Sabbath in June, two armies strove for the mastery of that ensanguined field, until heaps of dead and dying strewed the plain, marking the path of the serried ranks as the ebb and flow of battle changed their relative positions. Both armies fought with a desperate determination to conquer, and instances of personal bravery and daring were innumerable; yet, when night drew her sable mantle over the earth, shrouding from sight the soul-sickening scene, neither party could claim the meed of victory. Of the many thrilling incidents of that eventful day, that which brought into conspicuous notice the heroine of our story was not the least interesting.
Molly Pitcher, or, as she was afterward more familiarly known, Captain Molly, was a sturdy young Irish woman of some twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, short, thick-set, with red hair, a freckled face, and a keen, piercing eye, which gave token of a spirit of mischief ever ready for a frolic or a fight. She was the wife of a Sergeant in an artillery corps, which had seen service since the commencement of the war, and was attached to him with all the warmth of the Irish disposition. She had followed him through all his campaigns, and was with him at Fort Clinton, in the Hudson highlands, when that post was attacked and captured by Sir Henry Clinton. Here, too, she gave a specimen of that reckless courage which distinguished her at Monmouth some nine months after. Her husband, who was in the act of touching off his piece, seeing the British scaling the walls, and getting in his rear, dropped his match, and calling to Molly to follow, fled as fast as his legs would carry him. She, determined not to waste powder and ball, and knowing that her "petticoats" would protect her retreat in a measure, picked up the linstock, fired the piece, and then scampered off. Sheescaped scot-free, and when the scattered fugitives from the forts were collected, and the artillery was attached to the main army, she accompanied her husband as a sutler, and was with him through that bitter winter at Valley Forge.
When Sir Henry Clinton evacuated Philadelphia, and took up his march across the Jerseys, Washington left his winter camp and prepared to follow, hoping to get an opportunity to strike a blow which should animate his own troops and effectually cripple, perhaps capture, the British army. On the plains of Monmouth the hostile armies met in battle array. Of the details of the action it is not our province to speak. It will suffice our purpose to say that Lee had been ordered to attack the British on their first movement, and engage them until the main army of the Americans could be brought into action by Washington in person. The first part of his orders he had obeyed; the latter, for reasons never fully explained, he did not conform to, but retreated unexpectedly toward the main body, which movement was timely checked by Washington, who ordered the whole army into action. It became necessary, however, for a portion to fall back a second time; and to check the pursuit, the artillery, to which Molly's husband was attached, was stationed on an eminence, in the rear of a hedge-row, for that purpose. Molly herself was engaged in bringing water from a spring to assuage the thirst of the men at the guns, when she saw her husband struck down by a cannon-shot from the enemy, which cut him nearly in two, killing him instantly; at the same time she heard the commandant order the piece withdrawn, as he had no one to fill the place now vacant. Molly heard the order, and maddened by her loss, rushed forward, exclaiming as she did so: "No! you shan't remove the gun, neither. Shure, can't I ram it as well as Tom, there? Ah! it's kilt entirely he is, bad luck to the bloody vagabond that p'inted the gun that shot him. Sorra a day was it when ye 'listed, darlint, to leave me a lone widdy now, with nary a soul to care whether I live or die. But I'll pay the dirty vagabonds for this day's work, cuss 'em." And thus alternately apostrophizing her husband and anathematizing the British, she continued to ram the gun until it was withdrawn. The activity and courage which she exhibited attracted the attention of all who witnessed it, and on themorning after the battle the circumstance was reported to General Greene, who was so much pleased at her bravery and spirit that he sent for her and determined to present her to the Commander-in-Chief. This he did, covered with dirt and blood as she was, and Washington, after questioning her, conferred on her a warrant as Sergeant, and subsequently, by his influence, her name was placed on the list of half-pay officers for life. She went ever after by the name of "Captain Molly," and the French officers, particularly, took a great deal of notice of her, and made her many presents. She dressed in a mongrel suit, composed of a cocked hat, soldier's coat with an epaulette on one shoulder, and petticoats. In this rig she would pass along the French lines any day and get her hat filled with crowns.
Molly Pitcher's bravery was not, perhaps, of the highest order, being a part of the natural recklessness of her character; but there were women, plenty of them, in the time of our country's peril, and during the still more dreadful dangers of the new country, who proved their heroism to be of the noblest sort. Not only the heroism of endurance, in which women always excel—the endurance of fear, privation, loneliness and grief—but the heroism ofaction. Of such metal was the deed of prowess which has immortalized the name of Elizabeth Zane. In 1777, Fort Henry, in Ohio county, Virginia, was attacked by Indians. The defence was made with vigor, until the ammunition became exhausted, when surrender seemed the only alternative—a fearful alternative, in view of the treacherous character of their enemies. There was a keg of powder in a house about twelve rods distant, to obtain which would prolong the defense, and perhaps preserve the lives of the whole garrison. It was resolved that one person should venture out, and, if possible, secure and bear into the fort the valued prize. The Indians having retired a little distance, a favorable opportunity was afforded; but it became difficult to decide who should undertake the service, as many soldiers were emulous for the honor of executing the perilous enterprise.
Their contention was cut short by Miss Zane, who claimed to be chosen for performing the duty, upon the ground that the life of a soldier was more valuable to be employed in defending the fort, and also that her sex might save her errand from suspicion and thussecure its success. It was the latter plea, which was somewhat plausible, united to her resolution, which overcame the scruples of the officer in command, far enough to permit her to make the attempt.
Her sexmightprotect her! Ah! no one better than the girl herself knew how very slender was that "might"—for an instant her heart stood still in her bosom, as the gate of the fort opened a little and closed behind her, shutting her out in the very shadow of the valley of death! For one instant her eyes grew dark and her ears rung, and in her bosom she felt, by apprehension, the piercing anguish of a dozen bullets; but, as quickly, she rallied, and with a light, fleet foot passed on to the house, not running, for fear of calling down the suspicions of the murderous eyes which watched her every movement. The Indians observed her leave the fort, but, as she had hoped, did not at first comprehend her actions, allowing her to pass on to the building, without molesting her, probably absorbed in a momentary wonder at her sex and her audacity.
She reached the house, seized the powder, and hastened to return. By this time the savages had recovered from the spell which the first sight of the young heroine had thrown upon them; they saw the keg of powder in her arms, and with yells of anger, fired a volley after her as she ran rapidly toward the fort. Fortunately, not a bullet touched her. As they rattled about her, singing past her ears, they only gave activity to her movements. In another moment she was safe within the gate, to the unbounded joy of the garrison. Animated by so noble an example, the men fought with a vigor which the enemy could not overcome, who were compelled to raise the siege.
The following anecdote, which is too well authenticated to be disputed, furnishes one instance, among thousands, of that heroic spirit which animated the American women during the struggle for Independence.
In 1775, a good lady lived on the seaboard, about a day's march from Boston, where the British then were. By some unaccountable mistake, a rumor was spread, in town and country, in and about her residence, that the regulars were on a march for that place, where they would arrive in about three hours. This was after the battleof Lexington, and all, as might be supposed, was in sad confusion; some were boiling with rage and full of fight; some in fear and tribulation were hiding their treasures; others flying for life. In this wild moment, when most people, in one way or another, were frightened from propriety, our heroine, who had two sons, aged respectively nineteen and sixteen, was seen preparing them to discharge their duty in the emergency. The eldest she was enabled to equip in fine style; she took her husband's fowling-piece, "made for duck or plover," (the good man being absent on a coasting voyage to Virginia,) and with it, the powder-horn and shot-bag. But the lad, thinking the duck and geese-shot not quite the size to kill regulars, his mother, with the chisel, cut up her pewter spoons, hammered them into slugs, put them into his bag, and he set off in great earnest, calling a moment, on the way, to see the parson, who said:
"Well done, my brave boy. God preserve you!"
The youngest was importunate for his equipments, but his mother could find nothing to arm him with but an old rusty sword. The boy seemed unwilling to risk himself with this alone, lingering in the street until his mother thus upbraided him:
"You, John H——, what will your father say, if he hears that a child of his is afraid to meet the British? Go along; beg or borrow a gun, or you'll find one, child; some coward, I dare say, will be running away; then take his gun and march forward! If you come back, and I hear you have not behaved like a man, I shall carry the blush of shame on my face to the grave."
She then shut the door, wiped the tear from her eye, and abided the issue.
There were not wanting American ladies whose wit and courage could bring the blush of shame or anger to the haughty faces of the British officers. There is scarcely a more stinging retort on record than that which was given to the insolent Tarleton by a lady at Washington, before whom he was boasting his feats of gallantry. Said he:
"I have a very earnest desire to see your far-famed hero, Colonel Washington."
"Your wish, Colonel, might have been fully gratified," she promptly replied, "had you ventured to look behind you at the battle of the Cowpens."
Molly Pitcher at Monmouth.—Page44.
Molly Pitcher at Monmouth.—Page44.
Molly Pitcher at Monmouth.—Page44.
It was in that battle that Washington had wounded Tarleton, which gave rise to an equally pointed remark from Mrs. Wiley Jones, to whom Tarleton had observed:
"You appear to think very highly of Colonel Washington; yet I have been told that he is so ignorant a fellow that he can hardly write his own name."
"It may be the case," she readily replied, "but no one knows better than yourself that he knows how to make hismark."
We should think that he would have been ready to drop the subject in the presence of ladies so well able to defend their country's gallant officers.
Mrs. Thomas Heyward, in two instances, with the utmost firmness refused to illuminate for British victories. An officer forced his way into her presence, sternly demanding:
"How dare you disobey the order which has been issued? Why, madam, is not your house illuminated?"
"Is it possible for me, sir," replied the lady, with perfect calmness, "to feel a spark of joy? Can I celebrate the victory of your army while my husband remains a prisoner at St. Augustine?"
"That is of little consequence," rejoined the officer; "the last hopes of the rebellion are crushed by the defeat of Greene at Guilford. You shall illuminate."
"Not a single light," replied the lady, "shall be placed on such an occasion, with my consent, in any window of my house."
"Then, madam, I will return with a party, and before midnight, level it with the ground."
"You have power to destroy, sir, and seem well disposed to use it; but over my opinions you possess no control. I disregard your menaces, and resolutely declare—I will not illuminate!"
Mrs. Rebecca Motte was another lady who proved, in a signal manner, that her patriotism was equal to the severest test. After the abandonment of Camden to the Americans, Lord Rawdon, anxious to maintain his posts, directed his first efforts to relieve Fort Mott, at the time invested by Marion and Lee. This fort, which commanded the river, was the principal depot of the convoys from Charleston to Camden, and the upper districts. It was occupied by a garrison, under the command of Captain McPherson, of one hundredand sixty-five men, having been increased by a small detachment of dragoons from Charleston, a few hours before the appearance of the Americans.
The large new mansion-house belonging to Mrs. Motte, which had been selected for the establishment of the post, was surrounded by a deep trench, along the interior margin of which was raised a strong and lofty parapet. Opposite, and northward, upon another hill, was an old farm-house to which Mrs. Motte had removed when dismissed from her mansion. On this height Lieutenant-Colonel Lee took position with his force, while Marion occupied the eastern declivity of the ridge on which the fort stood, the valley running between the two hills permitting the Americans to approach within four hundred yards.
McPherson was unprovided with artillery, but hoped to be relieved by the arrival of Lord Rawdon to dislodge the assailants before they could push their preparations to maturity. He therefore replied to the summons to surrender—which came on May twentieth, about a year after the victorious British had taken possession of Charleston—that he should hold out to the last moment in his power.
The besiegers had carried on their approaches rapidly, by relays of working-parties, and, aware of the advance of Rawdon with all his force, had every motive for perseverance. In the night a courier arrived from General Greene, to advise them of Rawdon's retreat from Camden, and to urge redoubled activity; and Marion persevered through the hours of darkness in pressing the completion of the works. The following night Lord Rawdon encamped on the highest ground in the country opposite Fort Motte, where the despairing garrison saw with joy the illumination of his fires, while the Americans were convinced that no time was to be lost.
The large house in the center of the encircling trench left but a few yards of ground within the British works uncovered; burning the mansion, therefore, must compel the surrender of the garrison. This expedient was reluctantly resolved upon by Marion and Lee, who, always unwilling to destroy private property, felt the duty to be unusually painful in the present case. It was the summer residence of the owner, whose deceased husband had been a firm friend to his country, and whose daughter (Mrs. Pinckney) was the wife ofa gallant officer then a prisoner in the hands of the British. Lee had made Mrs. Motte's dwelling his quarters, at her pressing invitation, and with his officers had shared her liberal hospitality. Not satisfied with polite attentions to the officers while they 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 upon the sacrifice, and the Lieutenant-Colonel found himself compelled to inform Mrs. Motte of the unavoidable necessity of destroying her property. 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 bows and arrows which had been prepared for 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.
An interesting incident, illustrative of female patriotism and activity, is given by Mr. Headley as occurring in the church at Litchfield, Connecticut. The pastor, Judah Champion, was an ardent patriot, and on a certain Sabbath was earnestly preaching and praying for the success of the American arms. During the service a messenger arrived, announcing that St. John's—which had been besieged six weeks, and was regarded as the key to Canada—was taken. "Thank God for the victory!" exclaimed the patriot preacher, and the chorister, clapping his hands vigorously, shouted: "Amen, and amen!"
The communication of the messenger announced that our army was in a suffering condition, destitute of clothing, without stockings or shoes. "Sorrows and pity took the place of exultation, and generous sympathetic eyes filled with tears on every side. There was scarcely a dry eye among the females of the congregation. As soon as the audience was dismissed, they were soon gathered together in excited groups, and it was evident that some scheme was on foot that would not admit of delay. The result was, that whenthe congregation assembled in the afternoon,not a woman was to be seen. The men had come to church, but their earnest, noble wives and daughters had taken down their hand-cards, drawn forth their spinning wheels, set in motion their looms, while the knitting and sewing needles were plied as they never were before. It was a strange spectacle to see that Puritan Sabbath turned into a day of secular work. The pastor was at the meeting-house, performing those duties belonging to the house of God, and the voice of prayer and hymns of praise ascended as usual from devout and solemn hearts; but all through the usually quiet streets of Litchfield the humming of the spinning-wheel, the clash of the shuttle flying to and fro, were heard, making strange harmony with the worship of the sanctuary. But let it not be supposed that these noble women had gone to work without the knowledge of their pastor. They had consulted with him, and he had given them his sanction and blessing.
"Swimming eyes and heaving bosoms were over their work, and lips moved in prayer for the destitute and suffering soldier. The pastor's wife contributed eleven blankets from her own stores to the collection."
The women of the Revolution were active in their service of relief and comfort to the armies of the country. "The supply of domestic cloth designed for families was in a short time, by the labor of the females, converted into coats for the soldiers; sheets and blankets were fashioned into shirts; and even the flannels already made up were altered into men's habiliments. Such aid was rendered by many whose deeds of disinterested generosity were never known beyond their own immediate neighborhood."
Weights of clocks, pans, dishes, pewter services of plate, then common, were melted by the women and given to the army to be used in defense of freedom.
In 1776, Lafayette passed through Baltimore, and was honored with a public reception. In the gayeties of the scene he was seen to be sad. "Why so sad?" said a gay belle. "I can not enjoy these festivities," said Lafayette, "while so many of the poor soldiers are without shirts and other necessaries." "They shall be supplied," responded the fair ladies; and the scenes of the festive hall were exchanged for the service of their needles. They immediately madeup clothing for the suffering soldiers—one of the ladies cutting out five hundred pairs of pantaloons with her own hands, and superintending the making.
In 1780, a cold and dreary winter, when the soldiers greatly suffered, the ladies of Philadelphia formed an Industrial Association for the relief of the American army. They solicited money, sacrificed their jewelry, and labored with their own hands. Mrs. Bache, daughter of Dr. Franklin, was a leading spirit in these patriotic efforts. "She conducted us," said a French nobleman, in describing the scene, "into a room filled with work lately finished by the ladies of Philadelphia. It was shirts for the soldiers of Pennsylvania. The ladies bought the cloth from their own private purses, and took a pleasure in cutting them out and sewing them together. On each shirt was the name of the married or unmarried lady who made it; and they amounted to twenty-two hundred. During the cold winter that followed, thousands of poor soldiers in Washington's camp had occasion to bless the women of Philadelphia for these labors of love."