Part 5

DeKalb now gave the order to his men to charge with bayonets. Fiercely the Delaware and Maryland regiments charged upon the enemy,—so fiercely that they broke the British line. But the British guns poured on them volleys of grape and canister. It was more than our men could bear. They were obliged to retreat. Again came the order to charge, and again they threw themselves against those solid ranks of the British, and were driven back. Three times they charged, and then, almost cut to pieces, they were obliged to retreat. Of the brave regiment of Delaware, a mere handful of men was left. Baron DeKalb himself had fallen, with eleven wounds.

So ended the terrible battle of Camden. After it was over, many of the Americans hid themselves in the swamps and woods for a time. The few Delaware soldiers who were left joined the Virginia regiment. They fought with them through the rest of the war, and when peace was declared Virginia offered to each of them one hundred acres of ground if they would settle there. However, they preferred to return to their own state and people.

The prisoners who were taken were sent to Charleston. Among them was Major Patten, a gallant officer. He had taken with him into the war his own body servant, a negro, and had entrusted to him all his clothes. When the battle was over the negro had disappeared and Major Patten never saw him again. He entered Charleston a prisoner, and in rags. There were many loyal ladies there however, and they made him a set of shirts and did for him what they could. He was very handsome and gay, and as he was allowed a great deal of liberty, he became a great favorite. After the war was ended, he returned to his home near Dover and showed with pride some of these shirts which had been made for him by the Charleston ladies.

He was more fortunate than many of the other soldiers. Some of them returned in rags, to find their farms and homesteads fallen almost into ruin. Some had lost their health or were suffering from wounds. But one thing our Delaware men had won,—the glory of having made part of that regiment fittingly called the “picked regiment of the Continental Army.”[26]

NOTES

[21] This regiment was composed of eight companies and numbered eight hundred men.

Haslet has well been called the father of the first Delaware regiment. He raised it before the Declaration of Independence was declared, and drilled it himself, taking the greatest pride in it. He was a native of Ireland, but at the time of the Revolutionary War was living at Dover, where his remains now lie.

[22] Haslet’s regiment, as will be hereafter seen, remained in the army only up to the battle of Princeton.

Patterson’s was a part of the “Flying Camp,” a body of men called out for temporary duty................... The regiment of Hall was the only Continental one we furnished.

[23] Brigadier General Thomas Mifflin wrote to Mr. Reed in January of 1777, “The officers (of the Delaware Regiment) in particular deserve the thanks and esteem of their country for the readiness shown by them to turn out on all occasions.”

“One paragraph of the old man’s letter is very full of the great honor obtained by the Delaware Battalion in the affair at Long Island. From the unparalleled bravery they showed in view of all the Generals and troops within the lines, who alternately praised and pitied them.”

Letter from Caesar Rodney to his brother.

Through the Revolutionary War, Delaware furnished more men in proportion to its size than any other colony in the Union.

[24] “Nothing,” said a report addressed to the President of Congress, “Nothing sir, can equal their sufferings except the patience and fortitude with which the faithful part of the army endure them.”

[25] From the time the Delaware regiment started south, that is April 13th, 1780, until April 7th, 1782, they marched 5006 miles.

[26] In less than a month after the Declaration of Independence, Delaware had eight hundred men in the field, who fought at Brooklyn, White Plains, Trenton and Princeton. By April, 1777, we had another regiment of like number who fought at Brandywine, Germantown, Monmouth, Camden,—twice at Camden,—Cowpens, Guilford, and at Eutaw; and it never laid down its arms, though reduced almost to a corporal’s guard, until Cornwallis laid down his arms at Yorktown.

How Once Upon A Time Washington Came To Delaware.

AT ONE time Washington had his headquarters in Wilmington. It was late in the summer of 1777 and just before the Battle of Brandywine.

A few weeks earlier the British fleet had sailed out of New York harbor and had turned toward the south, with all the British army on board. No one knew where the fleet was going; no one knew where the army would land and make their next attack, and there was great anxiety.

General Washington and his army were at this time camped in Bucks county, north of Philadelphia. It was on August twenty-second that a hot and dusty messenger galloped into camp with news for the General that the British fleet had been seen in Chesapeake Bay.

As soon as Washington heard this news, orders were given to the army to break camp, and he marched with them down to Delaware, to be ready to meet the enemy, and to keep them from attacking Philadelphia, for that was then the capital of the colonies.

Wilmington at that time was still a small town. It had a few shops, a market house, and a fire engine company called the “Friendship.” A new ship-building company had just built and launched their first boat, which was named the “Wilmington.” But the most important of all the manufactories were the Brandywine flour mills, which stood on the Brandywine, some little distance above where it flows into the Christiana.[27] Washington had the “runners” (or upper stones) taken from these mills and hauled up into Chester County for fear they might be seized and used by the British.

Wilmington is very hilly. It has been said of it that it is “as full of lumps as a napkin thrown over a blackberry bush.”

The steep part of West Street that slopes up from Front to Fourth was called “Quaker Hill,” for almost all the houses that were there were owned by Quakers. The houses were built in a prim, plain fashion, but within they were full of comfort. Furniture, linen, food, were simple but of the best quality for the Friends knew how to live comfortably, in spite of their plain ways.

It was in one of these houses that Washington made his headquarters. The house is still standing, on the west side of the street, between Third and Fourth Streets.

A little beyond Quaker Hill was an old apple orchard, and still beyond that were the open country and the wooded hills of the Brandywine.

It was near the Brandywine that the army encamped. In the next few days soldiers might often be seen kneeling on the edge of the stream to wash their pieces of clothing. Their voices echoed through the woods in loud jokes and laughter. Sometimes a trooper in buff and blue brought a dozen clattering horses down to the water to drink.

Washington was busy sending and receiving dispatches, riding out to explore the country, and deciding where the best points were upon which to place his army.

By September the second, our army had been moved to the high lands near Newport, a few miles from Wilmington. In the afternoon of that day orders were given to cook provisions and to be ready to march at any time. The enemy were then near Newark, Delaware, but Washington had not yet been able to learn how many there were of them, nor where they meant to attack. However he sent a light corps (of about seven hundred and twenty men) down in their direction. These men were to hide in the woods and hollows, and to act as outposts in case the British marched toward Newark.

It was the next day, September the third, that the British began to advance toward White Clay creek,—a creek which lay between them and the Americans. For some miles above Newark the road was open, with fields and meadows on either hand, and the British marched along it undisturbed. But when the road dipped into the woods, the bullets began to sing about their ears like bees. Several of the British were wounded, for the American riflemen had hidden in the thickets and hollows of the woods and were shooting at them. The Americans were so well hidden that the British scarcely knew where to turn their fire. Some of the British companies left the road to look for them but got lost in a swamp, and had difficulty in finding their way back to firm ground.

For some miles this fire continued, but by the time the British had reached the Christiana creek, near Cooch’s Mill, the shots had almost stopped.

The bridge across the stream lay still and peaceful in the sunlight. There was no sound but the ripple of the water against the rocks, and a cow lowing in the distance.

The first company of the English had hardly set foot on the bridge however, when a hot fire of bullets poured out at them from the thickets beside the stream. A company of American riflemen had been lying there in ambush, and waiting for them. A moment later the Americans sprang out into the road with cheers, and charged upon them.

A sharp skirmish followed, but the British were too strong, and our men were driven back leaving several killed and wounded. The British, too, had their losses, though their loss was not as heavy as that of the Americans.

This skirmish at Cooch’s Bridge was the first warning Washington had that the British had advanced their army.

Knowing the British were only a few miles from him, Washington now expected an attack at any time, and decided to move his army to a high rise in the ground near Red Clay creek, which was a better position.

Mr. Caleb Byrnes, a miller, had a house on this high ground. Very early on the morning of September the seventh, he was awakened by the tramp of marching feet, the sound of loud voices shouting orders, and the clatter and rumble of gun wagons.

He slipped from bed and crossed to the window and looked out. There below, he saw long lines and companies of soldiers in buff and blue. Their bayonets glittered in the sunlight. Sweating horses were pulling cannon up the slope in front of the house.

Mrs. Byrnes slipped from bed and came over to look from the window, too. She was shivering with excitement.

“It’s the whole American army,” said Byrnes. He told his wife to waken the children and then he dressed as quickly as he could and hurried downstairs and out of the house.

An officer on horseback was there giving orders. The cannon had now been placed all along the high ground “for half a mile as thick as they could stand.”[28]

As soon as the officer saw Mr. Byrnes, he rode over to him and said, “You’d better get out of here as soon as you can. When the battle begins this house will be shot down and torn to pieces by cannon.”

“And my mill?” asked Mr. Byrnes, pointing to the mill, which stood about three-quarters of a mile down the road.

“That will probably go, too,” said the officer.

Mrs. Byrnes had now come to the door and stood listening. “Well, I’d rather stay right here,” she said. “If there’s a battle we’ll take the children and get under the big arch that is under the chimney in the cellar; there couldn’t anything hurt us there, anyway.”

Mr. Byrnes agreed with his wife that they had better stay; and in spite of the warnings of the officers they refused to move. Mr. Byrnes’ brother, who lived near the mill, also refused to leave his house. But the other neighbors packed up their furniture and took their families further up in the country, where they might be safe from the cannon. As it happened, they were no safer than the Byrnes after all, for on September the ninth, Washington found that the enemy were circling around him toward the north in the direction of Philadelphia, and he decided to move on and meet the British at Chadd’s Ford, and force a battle there.

Marching orders were given, and a few hours later the entire American army was gone from Delaware.

So ended Washington’s first stay in our state.

But there was another time when Washington was in Delaware. This second time he was no longer commander-in-chief of a struggling army but the President of the United States.

The war was over. Liberty was won, and the English had left our shores.

It was December of 1783, and Washington was to pass through Wilmington on his way from Philadelphia to Mount Vernon, where he was to eat his Christmas dinner.

People lined the road watching for his coach, and at the top of the hill children climbed into the trees of the apple orchard so as to see the better.

At last, from far up the road, came a sound of cheering; the coach was in sight. Nearer and nearer it came.

In it sat President Washington with his calm, noble face, and his powdered hair tied in a queue behind. His hat was off, and he bowed this way and that as the people waved and cheered him.

The Burgess and Council of Wilmington had prepared an address which was read to him and which he answered. It was only for a few hours that Washington was here this second time. A long ride was still before him, and soon he was in his coach again and rolling on his way.

For a while after the President’s coach had started, the little boys raced along beside him, then the horses broke into a trot that left the boys behind. The turn of the road was reached, the coach swung around it, and Washington’s last visit to Delaware was over.

NOTES

[27] Mr. Lea and Mr. Joseph Tatnall were among the mill owners of this time.

Miss Montgomery, in her “Reminiscences of Wilmington” writes, “Mr. Tatnall was a true patriot. He alone dared to grind flour for the famishing army of the Revolution at the risk of the destruction of his mill. His house was the home of General Lafayette during his sojourn here. * * * General Washington and other officers received his hospitality during their residence here.”

[28] Account written by Daniel Byrnes, a son of Caleb Byrnes, in 1842.

How Once Upon A Time Mary Vining Ruled All Hearts.

CHIEF JUSTICE VINING’S house faced “the Green” at Dover.

The Green is a long, open square with grass and trees. On either side of it are handsome houses and pleasant shady gardens with box trees and tall, old-fashioned flowers.

It was on the Green, and in these gardens, that the little Vinings and Rodneys and Ridgelys and other little Dover children of long ago played.

On this Green in 1776, the citizens and Revolutionary soldiers gathered to build a great bonfire, and burn the portrait of George the Third, no longer their King.

Along the King’s Road, which runs through it, Caesar Rodney galloped, on his long ride to Philadelphia, and the brave regiments of Delaware militia marched away to war.

Among the boys and girls who played on the Green in those days were the children of the Chief Justice, John and Mary Vining. They were beautiful children, with curly brown hair, rosy cheeks, and large clear grey eyes. Their mother had died while they were very young, but their aunt, Mrs. Ridgely, loved them dearly, and her house was as much home to them as their own. The year that Mary was fourteen, Chief Justice Vining also died, and left a large fortune to be divided between his two children.

Mr. Ridgely had charge of this fortune, and such good care did he take of it that when John and Mary grew up they were among the richest people in Delaware. But they were not only rich;—they were handsome and witty as well. John was such a favorite with everyone, that he was called “The Pet of Delaware,” and his sister was the belle of the whole colony. Louis Philippe, Duc d’Orleans, visited her when he was in America, and Lafayette admired her greatly. The fame of her beauty was even carried to foreign countries, so that when Jefferson visited the French queen, Marie Antoinette, one of the first questions she asked him was whether Miss Vining of Delaware was really as lovely as she was said to be.

Mary Vining spent as much of her time in Philadelphia as at Dover. In the winter of 1777, Lord Howe and his English troops were quartered there, and many of the British officers lost their hearts to the Delaware belle.

One day, one of her young cousins was studying his Latin in the drawing room when the door opened and Mary Vining swept in. She went over to the mirror and stood for some time looking at herself with admiration. She was in full dress, and her beautiful arms and neck were bare. After a while she turned from the mirror, and then she saw her young cousin sitting there and watching her. She smiled and held out her hand to him. “Come here, you little rogue,” she said “and you may kiss my hand.”

The little boy shook his head shyly and drew back.

Miss Vining laughed. “You might well be glad to,” she said, “‘Princes have lipped it’.”[29]

Afterward, when the little boy had grown to be a man he often told this story, and always added, “All the while I thought her the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.”

Some of Mary’s friends wondered that she did not marry. “To tell the truth,” she answered them frankly, “I have grown so used to the admiration of many men that I do not think I could be content with that of one.”

Indeed, she had become rather spoiled by so much admiration. She loved her own way and was determined to have it. She felt she was so beautiful and rich that she could do whatever she chose. It was one of her fancies never to walk in the street; she always rode in her coach or went on horseback, however short the distance, and she always covered her face with a veil so that people could not stare at her.

At one time General Washington was quartered in Wilmington, and while he was there many of his officers found time to ride down to Dover to see Miss Vining. There was one of Washington’s officers whom she had never met, but she had heard a great deal about him;—that was General Anthony Wayne. He was at this time a married man, though his wife died before the close of the war. He seemed to Miss Vining to be the most brilliant officer in the whole army, and she was never tired of hearing of his wild exploits. “Mad Anthony Wayne,” they called him. His fellow officers said he was vain[30] and a boaster; but he was so brave, and so ready to carry out his boasts that no one dared to laugh at him.

General Washington trusted him so much that he asked his opinion about almost every important move in the war, and he was the one whom Washington chose to lead the attack on Stony Point. The storming of Stony Point was the most daring act of the whole war.

Stony Point is a steep bluff on the Hudson. On three sides of it are water and on the fourth a deep swamp. The English held it with a garrison of over five hundred soldiers, and their cannon were set so as to guard every road to it.

It was the night of July the fifteenth, at half past eleven that Wayne and his brave company of soldiers set out. They moved in silence, with not a word spoken, except now and then a whispered command. Orders had been given that if any soldier left the ranks, no matter for what reason, he should be instantly killed.[31] This was in order that no deserter might have a chance to carry news of the surprise to the British.

To reach the rise of Stony Point, Wayne and his company were obliged to wade through water two feet deep. Then came the climb up the hill, over rocks and sharp stones. At last they were near enough to the fort to hear the call of the sentries. When the signal was given, the Americans attacked the fort from all sides at once.

The garrison was taken by surprise, and fired wildly; they had no time to aim their canon. A musket ball struck General Wayne, and made a long wound in his scalp. He was stunned and fell to the ground, but a moment later he rose on one knee and waved his sword, “Forward, my brave fellows! _Forward_,” he shouted.

His wound was not serious, but his soldiers, when they saw him fall, were filled with fury. They charged into the fort with their bayonets, climbing over walls and killing those who tried to stop them. Not a shot was fired by the Americans except at the very first, and then only to draw the attention of the British in the wrong direction.

This capture of Stony Point made General Wayne famous. He was said to be the most brilliant officer in the army. Praises were showered on him,[32] and later on he was made General-in-Chief of the army.

Years slipped by and the war came to an end. The American colonies were free, and the English left our shores and sailed back to their own country.

General Wayne was by this time a widower, and Mary Vining was no longer young. But though she was not young she was as beautiful, and witty and charming as ever.

She was almost forty when news came to her cousins in Dover that she was engaged to be married to General Wayne. At first they could not believe it. General Wayne was a brave soldier, he was handsome, generous and honest, but he had been brought up on a farm, and he had none of the elegance of the foreign officers, who had been her friends.

But Mary Vining loved him, and was determined to marry him. The time for the wedding was set. It was to be in January, and Miss Vining began to make ready for it. Her house was already handsome, but she refurnished it, from top to bottom. General Wayne gave her a set of India china, and she bought a new service of silver.

In December, Wayne was sent west by the government, to make a treaty with the Maumee Indians. He had fought with them and defeated them the year before, and they would be more ready to treat with him than with any one else. He was to return to Delaware by the first of January.

But the brave soldier never returned. At the first of the year, on New Year’s Day, word was brought to Miss Vining that he had died at Presque Isle, on Lake Erie.

Miss Vining immediately put on mourning for General Wayne, and this mourning she never laid aside again as long as she lived.

Soon after Wayne’s death, her brother, “The Pet of Delaware,” died too. It was found that he had spent, not only all his own fortune, but his sister’s as well. She was now a poor woman. Nothing was left her but a little house in Wilmington called “The Willows,” which stood where the du Pont building now stands, and which had once belonged to her mother. She was obliged to sell her coach and horses, and she sent away her servants.

Her brother had left four children, and she made these her care for the rest of her life. She brought them up and educated them.

The china that had been General Wayne’s last gift to her, was never used, but was kept by her as her most precious treasure.

She saw almost no one at “The Willows,” but the few who were allowed to visit her, found her always in black, and with her beautiful hair hidden under a widow’s cap. But she was still, even in old age, as gracious, as witty and charming as when she had been the wealthy and courted _Belle of Delaware_.[33]

NOTES

[29] Quoted from Shakespeare’s “Antony and Cleopatra.”