Eliza Sampson (1794-1875) wife of Joseph III

Her story is one of the most remarkable on record. At the age of five years, she was, by the pressure of want upon the family, separated from her mother—her father being absent at sea, or having perished by shipwreck. After spending a few years with a maiden lady of the name of Fuller, and also with a Mrs. Thacher, she was placed under the care of Deacon Jeremiah Thomas in Middleborough, in whose family she remained from the age of ten to that of twenty years.

In this family her fondness for books was sternly frowned upon; yet she used her limited opportunities for acquiring knowledge with such success that when not quite seventeen, she taught a public school in Middleborough. The books studied in this school were—The New England Primer; here and there a Spelling-book; the Psalter, and a few Testaments. A sheet of paper was sometimes allowed the boys for penmanship; while the chief occupation of the girls was, to learn to knit and sew!

At the age of twenty, she assumed male attire and enlisted as a soldier in the Continental Army. The design was not hastily embraced, but had been revolved in her mind during several months. Her motives were of a mixed character; a disgust with the low employment of feeding pigs and poultry; a desire to see the world; and, last but not least, patriotism. She sympathized strongly with the struggle for liberty, and had with deep emotion listened, from a hill near her residence, to the boom of cannon on the day of Bunker Hill.

The suit of masculine apparel in which she left the house of Dea. Thomas, was spun and woven by her own hands. The spinning-wheel and loom were then found in every farmer’s family; and all the clothes needed for the attire of the household was produced within doors. Deborah employed a tailor to make up the suit, pretending that it was for a young man, a relative of hers, who was about to leave home, for the army.

 In April. 1781. she left home secretly, and in the night; wandered secretly through Taunton, Rochester, and New Bedford—where she made a partial engagement with the captain of a privateer to enlist on board of his vessel, but abandoned the design on being informed of his bad treatment of his men. She then visited Wrentham, Dedham, and other towns, and at Bellingham enlisted as a Continental soldier for the town of Uxbridge, under the assumed name of ROBERT SHORTLIFFE. About the end of the month, she was mustered into the service at Worcester, and, in company with a large number of new recruits, marched to join the army at West Point, There she was placed in Capt. Webb’s Company of light infantry, in Col. Shopard’s Regiment, and Gen. Patterson’s Brigade. Her stature, as recorded by the proper officer, was five feet, seven and a half inches; eyes hazel, inclining to blue, &c. Here her civilian’s suit was exchanged for the Continental uniform.

Her equipments were—a blue coat, faced with white; white vest; breeches; stockings, with black straps about the knees ; half-boots ; black stock, made of velvet, and stiffened with leather ; a cap, with a variegated cockade on one side, a white plume tipped with red on the other, and a white sash about the crown. Her arms were—a French fusee and bayonet, knapsack, cartridge-box, and thirty cartridges.

Not long after, in the month of June, she was sent with a part of her company on a reconnoissance to Haerlem and the White Plain*. They had a skirmish with a party of the enemy, consisting chiefly of tories, whom they compelled to retire. Though the shock of battle was unexpected and furious, and the man next to her was shot dead at the second discharge, she says she suffered less from fear, than from fatigue, thirst, and the heat of the day.

Soon after this, she was transferred, with most of her company, to Col. Henry Jackson’s regiment of light infantry. The American forces were now, early in July, joined by the French army from Newport, under Count Rochambeau. After a series of manoeuvres, made to deceive the enemy into a belief that an attack on New York was intended, the whole allied army, under Washington, about the 20th of August, took up its line of march for the Chesapeake. Of this rapid march; the scenery by the way; the passage through Philadelphia, where a vast multitude thronged the streets and houses to witness the grand spectacle; the voyage of the army from the Head of Elk to James River, in a fleet of transports, consisting of more than a hundred vessels, furnished for the occasion by the French admiral, Count de Grasse; and of the investment, siege, and capture of Yorktown, which soon followed  our heroine gives an animated description.

In the hardships, as well as glories, of that siege, she had a personal share. She labored, unwilling to be outdone by sturdy, robust men, in the trenches; and was often exposed to great danger from the enemy’s fire. Once, she distinctly felt the wind of a cannon ball which passed over her head and killed four men just behind her.

On the night of the 7th October, she was one in a large detachment under Gen. Lincoln, who were ordered to open trenches within a mile of the enemy’s lines. The night was one of severe labor and exposure to her, already suffering from a violent cold. In the morning, Gen. Lincoln noticed her extreme exhaustion and blistered hands, and very mildly said to her—” You have too great a share of fatigue upon you, my fine lad; retire to your tent, and pleasantly dream an hour or two.”

On the following night, fire was opened on the enemy from the whole extent of the allied lines. Carnage and death now became familiar. Day after day, and night after night, during a whole week, the air was filled with shot and shells from both sides. Two large redoubts, held by the enemy 300 yards in advance of their lines, severely enfiladed the besieging forces. These redoubts it was necessary to carry by assault. The attack on one was entrusted to a body of French troops under Baron de Viomenil; the attack on the other to a detachment of American infantry under the Marquis de la Fayette. Our heroine was engaged in this perilous affair. The hostile intrenchments were carried on the loth at the point of the bayonet.

Three days after, Cornwallis signed articles for the surrender of his whole army; which were carried into effect on the 19th. Of this inspiring scene, our heroine was a witness, and has given an animating account. After the surrender, the army returned by the same route it had pursued in its progress to Virginia; and went into winter-quarters on the banks of the Hudson.

In June, 1782, our heroine, with about thirty others, volunteered on an expedition against a party of tories, who were committing outrages on the loyal inhabitants east of the Hudson. After a sharp skirmish, they put the tories to flight. But the heroine received two wounds, one in the left temple, the other (from a pistol ball) in the thigh, near the groin. She was carried to the hospital, and the adventure came near discovering her sex. But resolutely concealing the second wound, and extracting the ball herself, she escaped detection.

Our limits will not allow any farther account of her military career. It abounded with hardy and hazardous adventures, in all of which she bore herself with the firmness, resolution and patient endurance, which are often thought to belong exclusively to the stronger sex. Peace was proclaimed in the army, April 19, 1783. The troops, however, were not disbanded till the autumn following.

Having occasion to visit Philadelphia during the summer, our heroine was seized with a malignant fever then raging in that city, which proved fatal to multitudes. She was carried to the hospital, and narrowly escaped with life. Indeed, at one time, the attendants supposed her to be dead; and she heard some of them (who were men) disputing about some part of her clothing, which they expected to have. By an almost superhuman effort, she made it known that she was yet alive ; and sunk again into a state resembling death. The surgeon, Dr. Binney, happening to enter the hospital, was made acquainted with the fact. Thrusting his hand into her bosom, to ascertain if there was motion at the heart, he found a compress over the breasts; the removal of which disclosed the fact that the soldier Robert Shurtliffe, was a woman! This secret, however, the benevolent surgeon imparted to none but Mrs. Parker, the matron of the establishment. She was immediately conveyed to Mrs. Parker’s apartment, and nursed with the greatest care. As soon as she was able to ride, she was taken to Dr. Binney’s house, and treated with the most delicate attention.

On her departure for camp, for the purpose of being discharged, Dr. Binney gave her a letter for Gen. Patterson, in which he disclosed the fact of her sex, and the manner in which it was discovered. The General was greatly astonished, but treated her very kindly. She had been well known to him as a brave soldier, and had, during part of the third year, acted as his aid-de-camp, and had lived in his family, during the illness of Major Haskell, who had served him in that capacity. Gen. Patterson supplied her with a suit of female apparel; but she continued to wear her military costume during the following winter.

She received an honorable discharge, Oct. 23, 1783, from the hand of Gen. Knox. Testimonials of faithful performance of duty, and of exemplary conduct, were given by Generals Patterson and Shepard, Col. Henry Jackson, and others. She arrived among her relatives in Massachusetts in November, 1783. She did not immediately make herself known ; but at length resumed feminine apparel and employments.

In a few months (in 1784) she became the wife of Benjamin Gannett, an industrious young farmer of Sharon, and lived to rear a family of respectable children. She had an only son, Capt. Earl B. Gannett, and two daughters. She died at her home in Sharon, April 27, 1827, sustaining to the end the character of a faithful and exemplary wife and mother, a kind neighbor and friend

As a soldier she exhibited alertness, activity, courage, and valor. It is said, that on scouting parties she would always ride forward a little nearer the enemy than any of her comrades dared. On one occasion, meeting the enemy suddenly, it was necessary to abandon their horses, and run across a swamp for dear life, to escape a foe of overwhelming force. She then showed herself to be as fleet as a gazelle, bounding through the swamp many rods ahead of her companions. It was thought that no man in the army could outrun her. She went through three campaigns without the discovery of her sex, and consequently without the loss of her virtue. Her delicate appearance, and particularly her having no beard, was often noticed; she was often called the smock-faced boy,” and the like; but her sex was never suspected