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Deborah Samson Gannett 1760 ~ 1827
It has been said that in the early days
of this Republic men learned to fight and pray; the women to
endure," but there are several instances in the history of the
Revolutionary War in which a woman's courage was displayed by
the actual adoption of man's work on the battle field. The
resolution of Congress is on record in which honorable mention
is made of the services of Margaret Corbin, 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 with a commission. And there were many other
examples, though generally of women 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. But, in one case, the heroism and deeds,
exploits and adventures of a woman soldier make her life seem a
figment of pure imagination. This was Deborah Samson.
Deborah Samson was the youngest child of poor parents who lived
in the colony of Plymouth, in Massachusetts. Poverty was the
least of the evils suffered by the unfortunate children and, at
length, their parents becoming so degraded that intervention was
necessary, they were removed from the destructive influences,
and placed in different families. Deborah found a home in the
house of a respectable farmer, whose wife bestowed upon her as
much attention as was usual in the case of any poor girl "bound
out." The friendless and destitute girl was treated kindly, and,
in exchange for her work, was provided with clothes and food,
but no advantages of education. There was none to teach her, but
she seized every opportunity for acquiring knowledge, even
borrowing books from the children who passed the house on their
way to and from school, and persevered with untiring exertion
until she had learned to read quite well. Then, the law
releasing her from her indenture, she found a place where, by
working one-half time in payment for her board and lodging, she
was able to attend the common district school in the
neighborhood. In a few months she had acquired more knowledge
than many of her schoolmates had done in years.
But the Revolutionary struggle had swept upon the country, the
sound of the cannon at Bunker Hill had reached every hearthstone
and vibrated in the heart of every patriot in New England, and
the zeal which urged men to quit their homes for the battlefield
found its way to the bosom of lonely Deborah Samson.
Much effort has been expended by historians and women analysts
to extenuate the conduct of this woman who claimed the privilege
of shedding her blood for her country, but, after all, it was a
most natural decision. It is likely her youthful imagination was
kindled by the rumor of the brave deeds possible in that varied
war life, and it must be borne in mind, too, that she was alone
in the world, with few to care for her fate, and so she felt
herself accountable to no human being. Be that as it may, she
took the scant twelve dollars she had earned by teaching the
district school, and purchased a quantity of coarse fustian and,
working at intervals, made up a suit of men's garments, each
article as it was finished being hidden in a stack of hay.
Having completed her preparations, she announced her intention
of going where she might obtain better wages for her labor. The
lonely girl departed, but probably only to the shelter of the
nearest wood, before putting on the disguise she was so anxious
to assume. 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 said to
have been prepossessing, and her manner calculated to inspire
confidence.
She pursued her way to the American army where, in October,
1778, she was received and enrolled by the name of Robert
Shircliffe, a young man anxious to join his efforts to those of
his countrymen in their endeavors to oppose the common enemy.
She was one of the first volunteers in the company of Captain
Nathan Thayer, of Medway, Massachusetts, and the captain gave
her a home in his family until his company should be ready to
join the main army. In performing the duties and enduring the
fatigues of military life, her sex passed unsuspected.
Accustomed to labor, from childhood, upon the farm and in
out-of-door employment, she had acquired unusual vigor of
constitution; her frame was robust and of masculine strength,
and she was enabled to undergo what a woman delicately nurtured
would have found it impossible to endure.
For three years Deborah Samson appeared in the character of a
soldier, and during that time the fidelity with which her duties
were performed gained her 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. About four months after this first wound she
was again severely injured, being this time 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, but, strange as it may seem, she
escaped unsuspected, and soon recovering her strength, was able
again to take her place at the post of duty, as well as in the
deadly conflict. Unfortunately, however, she was soon seized
with brain fever, and for the few days when reason struggled
against the disease her sufferings were indescribable, haunted
by the terrible dread, as she was, lest consciousness should
desert her and the secret so carefully guarded be revealed. She
was carried to the hospital with a great number of soldiers
similarly stricken, and, her case being considered hopeless, and
partly owing to the negligent manner in which all patients were
attended, she actually escaped detection for some days. But at
length 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 to be dead, found that the pulse was still feebly
beating, and attempting to place his hand on the heart, he
perceived that a bandage was fastened tightly around the breast.
This was removed and, to his utter astonishment, he discovered
in this fever-racked youth, a woman patient.
With prudence, delicacy and generosity of the highest order,
this physician, Dr. Binney, of Philadelphia, kept his discovery
to himself, but paid the patient every attention, and provided
every comfort her perilous condition required. As soon as she
could be moved with safety, he had her taken to his own house,
where she could receive better care, his family wondering not a
little at the unusual interest manifested in this particular
invalid soldier.
But, once her health was restored, the physician had a long
conference with the commanding officer of the company in which
Robert had served, and this was followed by the issuing of an
order to the youth, "Robert Shircliffe," to carry a letter to
General Washington.
Deborah Samson's worst fears were now confirmed. From the time
of her removal into the doctor's family she had misgivings that
the doctor had discovered her deception, yet, in conversation,
as she anxiously watched his countenance, not a word or look had
indicated suspicion, and she had again begun to assure herself
that she had escaped. When the order came for her to deliver a
letter into the hands of the commander-in-chief, however, she
could no longer deceive herself. There was nothing for it but to
obey, but when she presented herself at Washington's
headquarters she trembled as she had never done before the
enemy's fire. When she was ushered into the presence of the
chief, she was almost overpowered with dread and uncertainty.
Washington noticed the extreme agitation, and bade her retire
with an attendant, who was directed to offer the soldier 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. The great man said not a word, but handed her in
silence a discharge from the service, putting into her hand at
the same time a notice containing 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 affected
her sensibly. "How thankful," she is said to have often
explained, "Was I to that great and good man who so kindly
spared my feelings. He saw me ready to sink from 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.'' This is an
interesting sidelight on the character of Washington, wherein he
is shown to have had the fine instinct of tact and sympathy even
in his warrior days.
After the war had ended, Deborah Samson married Benjamin
Gannett, of Sharon, and when Washington was President she
received a letter inviting "Robert Shircliffe,'" or Mrs.
Gannett, to visit the seat of the government. Congress was then
in session, and during her stay in the Capital a bill was passed
granting her a pension in addition to certain lands which she
was to receive, as an acknowledgment of 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 esteem in which she was
held.
Deborah Samson-Gannett, in the capacity of wife and mother,
lived to a comfortable old age, and finally yielded up her soul
as any prosaic and worthy matron might, with no hint of mystery
nor adventure in her past
It has been well said: "Though not comparable, certainly, to the
Prophetess' in whom France triumphed, for the dignity with which
the zeal of a chivalrous age and the wonderful success of her
mission invested her, yet it cannot be denied that this romantic
girl exhibited something of the same spirit of the lowly
herdmaid who even in the round of her humble duties, felt
herself inspired to go forth and do battle in her country's
cause, exchanging her peasant's garb for the male, the helmet,
and the sword. At least Deborah Samson is a figure of brave
strength and intrepid daring in the hour of her country's
greatest peril
Women of
America
Source: The Part Taken by Women in
American History, By Mrs. John A. Logan, Published by The Perry-Nalle
Publishing Company, Wilmington, Delaware, 1912.
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