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DEBORAH SAMPSON
GANNETT, of Sharon, has the unique distinction of presenting the only
authenticated case of a woman's enlistment and service as a regular soldier in
the Revolutionary army.
The proof of her
claim's validity can be found in the resolutions of the General Court of
Massachusetts, where, under date of January 20, 1792, those who take the trouble
may find this entry: "On the petition of Deborah Gannett, praying compensation
for services performed in the late army of the United States.
"Whereas, it appears
to this court that Deborah Gannett enlisted under the name of Robert Shurtleff,
in Captain Webb's company in the Fourth Massachusetts regiment, on May 21, 1782,
and did actually perform the duties of a soldier in the late army of the United
States to the twenty-third day of October, 1783, for which she has received no
compensation;
"And, whereas, it
further appears that the said Deborah exhibited an extraordinary instance of
female heroism by discharging the duties of a faithful, gallant soldier, and at
the same time preserved the virtue and chastity of her sex unsuspected and
unblemished, and was discharged from the service with a fair and honourable
character; therefore,
"Resolved,
that the treasurer of the Commonwealth be, and hereby is, directed to issue
his note to said Deborah for the sum of £34, bearing interest from October 23,
1783."
Thus was the seal of
authenticity set upon as extraordinary a story as can be found in the annals of
this country.
Deborah Sampson was
born in Plympton, Plymouth County, December 17, 1760, of a family descended from
Governor Bradford. She had many brothers who enlisted for service early in the
war, and it was their example, according to some accounts, which inspired her
unusual course.
If one may judge
from the hints thrown out in the "Female Review," a quaint little pamphlet
probably written by Deborah herself, and published in 1797, however, it was the
ardent wooing of a too importunate lover which drove the girl to her
extraordinary undertaking. Two copies of this "Review" are now treasured in the
Boston Public Library.
In the first
chapters, the author discourses upon female education and the like, and then,
after a sympathetic analysis of the educational aspirations of the heroine
(referred to throughout the book as "our illustrious fair"), and a peroration on
the lady's religious beliefs, describes in Miss Sampson's own words a
curious dream she once had.
The young woman
experienced this psychic visitation the author of the "Review" would have us
believe, a short time before taking her final step toward the army. In the
dream, a serpent bade her "arise, stand on your feet, gird yourself, and prepare
to encounter your enemy." This, according to the chronicler's interpretation,
was one underlying cause of Deborah's subsequent decision to enlist as a
soldier.
Yet her mother's
wish that she should marry a man for whom she felt no love is also suggested as
a cause, and there is a hint, too, that the death in the battle of Long Island,
New York, of a man to whom she was attached, gave the final impulse to her plan.
At any rate, it was the night that she heard the news of this man's death that
she started on her perilous undertaking.
"Having put in
readiness the materials she had judged requisite," writes her chronicler, "she
retired at her usual hour to bed, intending to rise at twelve. . . . There was
none but the Invisible who could take cognisance of her passion on assuming her
new garb."
She slipped
cautiously away, and travelled carefully to Bellingham, where she enlisted as a
Continental soldier on a three years' term. She was mustered into the army at
Worcester, under the name of Robert Shurtleff. With about fifty other soldiers
she soon arrived at West Point, and it there fell to her lot to be in Captain
Webb's company, in Colonel Shepard's regiment, and in General Patterson's
brigade.
Naturally the girl's
disappearance from home had caused her friends and her family great uneasiness.
Her mother reproached herself for having urged too constantly upon the attention
of her child the suit of a man for whom she did not care, and her lover
upbraided himself for having been too importunate in his wooing. The telephone
and telegraph not having been invented, it was necessary, in order to trace the
lost girl, to visit all the places to which Deborah might have flown. Her
brother, therefore, made an expedition one hundred miles to the eastward among
some of the family relations, and her suitor took his route to the west of
Massachusetts and across into New York State.
In the course of his
search he visited, as it happened, the very place in which Deborah's company was
stationed, and saw (though he did not recognise) his lost sweetheart. She
recognised him, however, and hearing his account to the officers of her mother's
grief and anxiety, sent home as soon as opportunity offered, the following
letter:
"DEAR PARENT: – On the margin of one of those rivers which intersects
and winds itself so beautifully majestic through a vast extent of territory of
the United States is the present situation of your unworthy but constant and
affectionate daughter. I pretend not to justify or even to palliate my
clandestine elopement. In hopes of pacifying your mind, which I am sure must be
afflicted beyond measure, I write you this scrawl. Conscious of not having thus
abruptly absconded by reason of any fancied ill treatment from you, or
disaffection toward any, the thoughts of my disobedience are truly poignant.
Neither have I a plea that the insults of man have driven me hence: and let this
be your consoling reflection – that I have not fled to offer more daring insults
to them by a proffered prostitution of that virtue which I have always been
taught to preserve and revere. The motive is truly important; and when I divulge
it my sale ambition and delight shall be to make an expiatory sacrifice for my
transgression.
"I am in a large but
well regulated family. My employment is agreeable, although it is somewhat
different and more intense than it was at home. But I apprehend it is equally as
advantageous. My superintendents are indulgent; but to a punctilio they demand a
due observance of decorum and propriety of conduct. By this you must know I have
become mistress of many useful lessons, though I have many more to learn. Be not
too much troubled, therefore, about my present or future engagements; as I will
endeavour to make that prudence and virtue my model, for which, I own, I am much
indebted to those who took the charge of my youth.
" My place of
residence and the adjoining country are beyond description delightsome. . . .
Indeed, were it not for the ravages of war, of which I have seen more here than
in Massachusetts, this part of our great continent would become a paradisiacal
elysium. Heaven condescend that a speedy peace may constitute us a happy and
independent nation: when the husband shall again be restored to his amiable
consort, to wipe her sorrowing tear, the son to the embraces of his mourning
parents, and the lover to the tender, disconsolate, and half-distracted object
of his love.
"Your affectionate
"DAUGHTER."
Unfortunately this
letter, which had to be entrusted to a stranger, was intercepted. But Deborah
did not know this, and her mind at rest, she pursued cheerfully the course she
had marked out for herself. The fatigue and heat of the march oppressed the girl
soldier more than did battle or the fear of death. Yet at White Plains, her
first experience of actual warfare, her left-hand man was shot dead in the
second fire, and she herself received two shots through her coat and one through
her cap. In the terrible bayonet charge at this same battle, in which she was a
participant, the sight of the bloodshed proved almost too much for her strength.
At Yorktown she was
ordered to work on a battery, which she did right faithfully. Among her
comrades, Deborah's young and jaunty appearance won for her the sobriquet
"blooming boy." She was a great favourite in the ranks. She shirked nothing, and
did duty sometimes as a common soldier and sometimes as a sergeant on the lines,
patrolling, collecting fuel, and performing such other offices as fell to her
lot.
After the battle of
White Plains she received two severe wounds, one of which was in her thigh.
Naturally, a surgeon was sent for at once, but the plucky girl,
who could far more easily endure pain
than the thought of discovery, extracted the ball herself with penknife
and needle before hospital aid arrived.
In the spring of
1783 General Patterson selected her for his waiter, and Deborah
so distinguished herself for readiness and courage that the general often
praised to the other men of the regiment the heroism of his "smock-faced boy."
It is at this stage
of the story that the inevitable dénouement occurred. The
young soldier fell ill with a prevailing epidemic, and during her attack
of unconsciousness consciousness her sex was discovered by the attendant
physician, Doctor Bana. Imme diately she was removed by the physician's
orders to the apartment of the hospital matron, under whose care she
remained until discharged as well.
Deborah's appearance
in her uniform was sufficiently suggestive, as has been said, of robust
masculinity to attract the favourable attention of many young women. What she
had not counted upon was the arousing in one of these girls of a degree of
interest which should imperil her secret. Her chagrin, the third morning after
the doctor's discovery, was appreciably deepened, therefore, by the arrival of a
love-letter from a rich and charming young woman of Baltimore whom the soldier,
"Robert Shurtleff," had several times met, but whose identity with. the writer
of the letter our heroine by no means suspected. This letter, accompanied by a
gift of fruit, the compiler of the "Female Review" gives as follows:
"DEAR SIR: Fraught with the feelings of a friend who is doubtless
beyond your. conception interested in your health and happiness, I take liberty
to address you with a frankness which nothing but the purest friendship and
affection can palliate, – know, then, that the charms I first read on your
visage brought a passion into my bosom for which I could not account. If it was
from the thing called LOVE, I was before mostly ignorant of it, and strove to
stifle the fugutive; though I confess the indulgence was agreeable. But repeated
interviews with you kindled it into a flame I
da not now
blush to own: and should it meet a generous return, I shall not reproach myself
for its indulgence. I have long sought to hear of Your department, and how
painful is the news I this moment received that you are sick, if alive, in the
hospital! Your complicated nerves will not admit of writing, but inform the
bearer if you are necessitated for anything that can conduce to your comfort. If
you recover and think proper to inquire my name, I will give you an opportunity.
But if death is to terminate your existence there, let your last senses be
impressed with the reflection that you die not without one more friend whose
tears will bedew your funeral obsequies. Adieu."
The distressed
invalid replied to this note that "he" was not in need of money. The same
evening, however, another missive was received, enclosing two guineas. And the
like favours were continued throughout the soldier's stay at the hospital.
Upon recovery, the
"blooming boy" resumed his uniform to rejoin the troops. Doctor Bana had kept
the secret, and there seemed to Deborah no reason why she should not pursue her
soldier career to the end.
The enamoured maid
of Baltimore still remained, however, a thorn in her conscience. And one day,
when near Baltimore on a special duty, our soldier was summoned by a note to the
home of this young woman, who, confessing herself the writer of the anonymous
letter, declared her love. Just what response was made to this avowal is not
known, but that the attractive person in soldier uniform did not at this time
tell the maid of Baltimore the whole truth is certain.
Events were soon,
however, to force Deborah to perfect frankness with her admirer. After leaving
Baltimore, she went on a special duty journey, in the course of which she was
taken captive by Indians. The savage who had her in his charge she was obliged
to kill in self-defence, after which there seemed every prospect that she and
the single Indian lad who escaped with her would perish in the wilderness, a
prey to wild beasts. Thereupon she wrote to her Baltimore admirer thus:
"DEAR Miss –-: – Perhaps you are the nearest friend I have. But a few
hours must inevitably waft me to an infinite distance from all sublunary
enjoyments, and fix me in a state of changeless retribution. Three years having
made me the sport of fortune, I am at length doomed to end my existence in a
dreary wilderness, unattended except by an Indian boy. If you receive these
lines, remember they come from one who sincerely loves you. But, my amiable
friend, forgive my imperfections and forget you ever had affection
for one
so unworthy
the name of
"YOUR OWN SEX."
No means of sending
this letter presented itself, however, and after a dreary wandering, Deborah was
enabled to rejoin her soldier friends. Then she proceeded to Baltimore for the
express purpose of seeing her girl admirer and telling her the truth. Yet this
time, too, she evaded her duty, and left the maiden still unenlightened, with a
promise to return the ensuing spring – a promise, she afterward declared, she
had every intention of keeping, had not the truth been published to the world in
the intervening time.
Doctor Bana had been
only deferring the uncloaking of "Robert Shurtleff."
Upon Deborah's
return to duty, he made the culprit herself the bearer of a letter to General
Patterson, which disclosed the secret.
The general, who was
at West Point at the time, treated her with all possible kindness, and commended
her for her service, instead of punishing her, as she had feared. Then he gave
her a private apartment, and made arrangements to have her safely conducted to
Massachusetts.
Not quite yet,
however, did Deborah abandon her disguise. She passed the next winter with
distant relatives under the name of her youngest brother. But she soon resumed
her proper name, and returned to her delighted family.
GANNETT HOUSE, SHARON, MASS.
After the war, she
married Benjamin Gannett, and the homestead in Sharon, where she lived for the
rest of her life, is still standing, relics of her occupancy, her table and her
Bible, being shown there to-day to interested visitors.
In 1802 she made a successful lecturing tour, during which she kept a very interesting diary, which is still exhibited to those interested by her great-granddaughter, Mrs. Susan Moody. Her grave in Sharon is carefully preserved, a street has been named in her honour, and several patriotic societies have constituted her their principal deity. Certainly her story is curious enough to entitle her to some distinction.
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