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 made up 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."
THE BARONESS DE REIDESEL.
One of the most interesting papers of personal reminiscences, which has come down to us from Revolutionary times, is the narrative by the Baroness de Reidesel, wife of the distinguished German, the Baron de Reidesel, a Major-General in Burgoyne's army of invasion. With all the truth of a high-minded lady, and the devotion of a true wife and mother, she accompanied her husband to America, and was present at the disastrous defeat of Burgoyne at Saratoga. Her story gives us an inside view of the British camp, and reveals the hardships to which she was exposed. After the battle of Saratoga she witnessed the British retreat, and never after could refer to it without weeping—the terrible scene so affected her. In his rather pretentious "memoirs," General Wilkinson has engrafted her entire narrative. We give our readers so much of the interesting document as our space permits. The "women of America" will peruse it with intense interest. After detailing her experiences up to the day of battle, (October 7th, 1779,) she proceeds:
"I was at breakfast with my husband and heard that something was intended. On the same day I expected Generals Burgoyne, Phillips and Frazer to dine with us. I saw a great movement among the troops; my husband told me it was merely a reconnoissance, which gave me no concern, as it often happened. I walked out of the house and met several Indians in their war-dresses, with guns in their hands. When I asked them where they were going, they cried out: 'War! war!' meaning that they were going to battle. This filled me with apprehension, and I had scarcely got home before I heard reports of cannon and musketry, which grew louder by degrees, till at last the noise became excessive.
"About four o'clock in the afternoon, instead of the guests whom I expected, General Frazer was brought on a litter, mortally wounded. The table, which was already set, was instantly removed, and a bed placed in its stead for the wounded General. I sat trembling in a corner; the noise grew louder, and the alarm increased; the thought that my husband might be brought in, wounded in the same manner, was terrible to me, and distressed me exceedingly. General Frazer said to the surgeon, 'Tell me if my wound is mortal; do not flatter me.' The ball had passed through, his body, and, unhappily for the General, he had eaten a very hearty breakfast, by which his stomach was distended, and the ball, as the surgeon said, had passed through it. I heard him often exclaim, with a sigh, 'Oh fatal ambition! Poor General Burgoyne! Oh! my poor wife!' He was asked if he had any request to make, to which he replied, that, 'If General Burgoyne would permit it, he would like to be buried, at six o'clock in the evening, on the top of a mountain, in a redoubt which had been built there.'
"I did not know which way to turn; all the other rooms were full of sick. Toward evening I saw my husband coming; then I forgot all my sorrows, and thanked God that he was spared to me. He ate in great haste, with me and his aid-de-camp, behind the house. We had been told that we had the advantage over the enemy, but the sorrowful faces I beheld told a different tale; and before my husband went away he took me aside, and said every thing was going very badly, and that I must keep myself in readiness to leave the place, but not to mention it to any one. I made the pretense that I would move the next morning into my new house, and had every thing packed up ready.
"Lady Ackland had a tent not far from our house; in this she slept, and the rest of the day she was in the camp. All of a sudden a man came in to tell her that her husband was mortally wounded, and taken prisoner. On hearing this she became very miserable. We comforted her by telling her that the wound was very slight, and advised her to go over to her husband, to do which she would certainly obtain permission, and then she could attend him herself. She was a charming woman, and very fond of him. I spent much of the night in comforting her, and then went again to my children, whom I had put to bed.
"I could not go to sleep, as I had General Frazer and all the other wounded gentlemen in my room, and I was sadly afraid my children would wake, and by their crying disturb the dying man in his last moments, who often addressed me and apologized 'for the trouble he gave me.' About three o'clock in the morning, I was told that he could not hold out much longer; I had desired to be informed of the near approach of this sad crisis, and I then wrapped up my children in their clothes, and went with them into the room below. About eight o'clock in the morning he died.