Part of the Mr. Local History Rev War and Lord Stirling Series
As we were researching another story, we came across this really interesting piece published in 1914 about one of the Revolutionary War’s greatest generals, William Alexander, also known as General Stirling. But this is not about William, it’s about his wife, Sarah Livingston……an “Overlooked Heroine” of the Revolutionary War.
When Americans think of Valley Forge, they picture Washington’s Army freezing in Pennsylvania. Few picture a distinguished family from Basking Ridge, New Jersey, abandoning comfort for a damp farmhouse near the encampment, where women distributed soup, treated frostbite, wrote letters for soldiers, and walked camp to camp carrying food and clothing through winter storms. Yet that is precisely the forgotten story told in a remarkable historical newspaper feature about Major General Lord Stirling and the overlooked women of Valley Forge. Hidden within its pages is a surprising New Jersey connection and a powerful argument that some of the Revolution’s greatest acts of courage took place far from the battlefield.
OVERLOOKED HEROINES OF THE REVOLUTION – MAJOR GENERAL LORD STIRLING
THE INDIANA DEMOCRAT, INDIANA, PA.
June 24, 1914
VOLUMES have been written lauding the courage or endurance of the American Army that braved the winter of 1777-78 at Valley Forge. Monuments have been erected in memory of men and officers. The site of the camp has been reserved by the state of Pennsylvania and converted into a memorial park. Still, the women who shared the dangers and suffering with them, who nobly nursed the sick, fed the starving, and clothed the naked, are left unrecognized.
There are no public records of them, even their quarters that had been the shelter of people in need, the stage of the Conway cabal (that was one of the remarkable and dramatic incidents of the war), the cradle of the first aid to the injured, and the setting for a love affair of one of the first presidents of the United States, was not included in the state reservation and taken under its protection, but is fast falling into decay, to the shame and dishonor of the guardians who are neglecting one of the two houses at Valley Forge that are historically noteworthy, and for a puerile reason unworthy of a great commonwealth.
Currie was an Anglican clergyman associated with Old St. David’s Church in Radnor.
This little farmer’s house was the headquarters of Major General Lord Stirling, one of the most gallant and loyal American soldiers. Born and bred in New York, he had inherited a title from his Scotch ancestors just as the Revolution was breaking out. He had served as a major and aide-de-camp to General Shirley at the time of General Braddock’s defeat. He had been in every battle fought against the British in New York and New Jersey, and was General Washington’s most trusted general, as is proved by the numerous letters still preserved in the New York Historical Society.
The headquarters of this gentleman was shared by his brave wife and daughter, who abandoned their beautiful home at Basking-ridge on the hills of New Jersey, and with the men contended with the discomforts and trials of the celebrated winter spent in the wind-swept valley on the outskirts of civilization as bravely as any soldier, officer, or general.
To these heroines of Valley Forge, no history points, no cenotaphs are raised, nor are their deeds only traditional and crystallized in the memories of a few lovers of bravery, self-sacrifice, and feminine devotion.
It was early in the season when it was decided to camp near Philadelphia. The Army under General Washington was collected at Valley Forge, when Lord Stirling wrote to his wife, entreating her to join him there, as his duties detained him with his men. Still, he had been promised comfortable quarters, and he had no idea of the smallness of the house and its numerous discomforts.
For it was a great demand to make of the delicately nurtured women who had been reared at the luxurious Livingston manor house, on the Hudson River, or in Mr. Livingston’s comfortable house in New York. But Lady Stirling wisely determined that her place was by her husband’s side, so with a full staff of servants (for she foresaw the demands that would be made on her hospitality) she and her daughter, Catherine, started in the great family coach, drawn by four gray horses, for the long drive over the Jersey hills to Pennsylvania.
When they reached their destination, they found that a small farmer’s cottage had been assigned to Lord Stirling for his quarters. It was the farthest house from General Washington’s headquarters, under a hillside and near a creek. It was a damp and lonely spot, and quite inadequate to the accommodation of family and servants.
But with unfailing good humor and the capability of splendid homemakers, the ladies coped with the situation and made the house ready for winter. They filled long flannel bags with earth and placed them against the door sills and the loosely fitting sashes to keep out the wind, so the house could be kept warmer more readily. They pasted muslin on the walls and hung curtains in front of the windows for the same purpose. Then they sent to Baskingridge for many loads of hickory wood before the roads became choked with snow, for fuel was scarce, and the soldiers requisitioned all that there was to be found in the neighborhood.
General Washington welcomed them gladly and at once requested that they assist him in entertaining the various people who daily visited the camp, either for political purposes, business, or curiosity.
Lady Stirling’s household was composed of her husband and his aide, Dr. Enoch Edwards, whose name will be recognized by many of his descendants in Philadelphia today. Then there was Lady Kitty and her friend, Miss Nanny Browne, the orphaned granddaughter of Governor Brockholst, and these dames may well be called the heroines of Valley Forge. However, their ministerings and sufferings found no recognition in the man-written chronicles of that fearsome winter.
Christmas passed sadly with little merrymaking or good cheer, and daily the sufferings of the ill-clad, badly-housed soldiers were forced on the attention of the women, for the reports of the medical men became more and more distressing. There were no comfortable hospitals, trained nurses, or even necessary clothing, bandages, and lint for the poor fellows.
Lady Stirling and her daughter were no strangers to the sick room; both were capable nurses and had learned from an old Indian woman many salves and remedies made from herbs or simples, not the least of which was the celebrated Seneca oil, St. John’s wort lotion, and rattlesnake grease, all of which they had provided themselves with before leaving home.
Without hesitation, these brave women arranged a division of work among them, for it fell entirely on their individual efforts, since the whole country was overburdened and there was no relief to be obtained from an organized sanitary commission or Red Cross association.
Quietly and unostentatiously, the three ladies divided the work among them to do what was possible to alleviate the increasing horrors about them. To Lady Kitty was assigned a daily visit to the camp, while the delicate Miss Nanny sewed or scraped lint at the fireside, and the head of the house superintended the food department and the rations to be doled out every morning.
The labor of Malvina, the old turbaned black cook, was doubled. She was not only called upon to provide delicate repasts for Le Marquis de Lafayette and Major James Monroe, Generals Knox and Greene, with many other distinguished visitors, who crowded around Lady Stirling’s hospitable table, but a huge soup kettle was hung over the logs in an improvised kitchen and from the day it was started until the camp was broken, great pails of nourishing soup were freely given to the famishing soldiers who called at the house for food.
Every week vegetables, poultry, mutton, etc., were brought to Valley Forge by the general’s own people, either from his farm eight miles from Morristown, N. J., or from the Livingston manor house, for our heroes of the Revolution had to supply their own rations, and this one in particular, who raised a regiment and equipped it at his own expense, was never repaid for food, or services, by an ungrateful country.
Daily Lady Kitty would sally to the camp with a basket filled with goodies on her arm, followed by a servant laden with clothing for the soldiers. It was a long, cold walk from her home to the camp, but the young girl braved it despite snow and storm.
The doors of hut after hut would be gently knocked on, and the inmates would be questioned about their most pressing needs. No one can imagine what a blessing these visits were to the suffering men. There was hardly one who was not afflicted with frostbite, and for these Lady Kitty had a sovereign cure learned from the old squaw. This, with other remedies drawn from the handy reticule, was lavishly given with many a cheery word or laugh at the traveling drug shop. The baskets containing delicacies for the very sick were soon emptied, and besides, many a man’s heart was made glad by the gift of a warm worsted comforter for his neck or a pair of knitted stockings or mittens. Then there were thunderous sounds made from the fleece of the sheep raised on the Jersey hills, the wool having been spun in tenets’ houses and woven on the looms that groaned and creaked unceasingly. This was the work of the women who stayed at home, while the menfolk struggled with the horrors of Army life.
The fingers of the women of the day were never idle. We are told on page 417 of Mr. Irving’s ‘Life of General Washington,’ that his wife, ‘set an example to lady visitors by diligently plying her needles, knitting stockings for poor, destitute soldiers.’ And, indeed, women’s busy needles clicked far into the night, even when frugal housewives only permitted the blaze of the fire to light the rooms, for candles were luxuries in those days. However, they were homemade, and these self-sacrificing women denied themselves every comfort they could, in hopes of relieving the soldiers’ needs. Many a candle that had been made in the family kitchen, and perhaps from bayberries picked by delicate fingers, found its way to the huts of the men. Most of these were illiterate fellows who had obeyed the call to arms, leaving their families in distant parts of the country.
‘Lady Comforter,’ as she was called by the men, would ask each one about his life and suggest that she would write letters to his homebound family or friends. Pen, ink, and paper would be whipped from the great reticule hanging by her side, and a dictation taken down, which must have given pleasure and hope at many a desolate fireside. The ladies were cheered in their benevolent work in the camp by the commendations of the commander-in-chief, who could not be sufficiently grateful for these ministrations.
The young aide de camp, James Monroe (who was recuperating after a severe wound sustained at the Battle of Trenton), was detailed to accompany the young lady on her daily rounds and to report officially on the condition of the men. This duty was not uncongenial to the young Virginian, and the one bright spot in the dark days of suffering for the men in camp was watching the courtship of their future President. His engagement to Miss Nanny Browne was soon duly announced and hurried arrangements made for a wedding in the Spring at the home of her aunt, Mrs. Van Horne.
She could not have asked General Washington for advice on the subject of her marriage, or she would have been saved much misery and mortification. It is said that when Nelly Custis announced her engagement, the general said, “Question yourself.” Is he a man of sense? For be assured, a sensible woman can never be happy with a fool.’ James Monroe was no fool, but the end of this romantic courtship is another story.
It is more than probable that a steady supply of food and clothing reached the camp from many of the nearby places, for it is certain that Carlisle had several women, headed by Mrs. John Armstrong, who employed every leisure moment knitting stockings or scraping lint for the soldiers. This lady was born in Ireland and had married an Irishman, but was devoted to her adopted country and fellow citizens. Other Pennsylvania women sacrificed time and comfort for the brave defenders. Mrs. John Bull was approached by Lord Howe, who tried to bribe her to induce her husband to join the English Army and desert his command as colonel of the First Pennsylvania, but she proudly refused. Her descendants doubtless would be proud to read the unpublished history preserved by the writer.
Mrs. Mifflin (Sarah Morris) sent stockings of her own making to be distributed among the soldiers, writing: ‘In this way do I throw in my mite to the public good. I know this — that as free I can die but once, but as a slave I shall not be worthy of life, and I have the pleasure to assure you that these are the sentiments of my sister Americans.’
Those women who could do so visited the camp, and Mrs. Andrew Porter (Elizabeth Parker) rode there on horseback to see her husband, who had boasted proudly that he never wore a garment not made by his wife. A story is told of him that at a dinner at Valley Forge, General Knox said to him: ‘Porter, how does it happen that you look so genteel while the rest of us are in rags, although you receive no better pay than we?’ To this, Captain Porter replied: ‘My wife took this coat apart and turned it inside out, so you see it now as good as new,’ and then went on to relate how she had visited him but had lost her way, when she met a gentleman out of uniform, of whom she asked directions. The officer tightened the girths of her saddle and admired her horse, which, Mrs. Porter proudly declared, was home-bred. Then walking beside the rider, the person conducted the lady to her husband’s quarters, raised his hat and strolled away. After a warm welcome, Captain Porter said: ‘Well, my lady, you came into camp highly escorted by the commander in chief.’
Lady Kitty had a love affair of her own on hand during the dark days at Valley Forge, which culminated in 1799 by her marriage to Col. William Duer, when General Washington gave the bride away, for he felt that no honor was too great to be lavished on the heroine of Valley Forge.”
