CHAPTER IV

MARY LINDLEY MURRAY

1720-1782

Except for one day’s events the story of Mrs. Murray is quickly told. A famous Quaker belle in Philadelphia was the beautiful Mary Lindley. After her marriage to Robert Murray, a merchant, she lived near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and in North Carolina, until in 1753 they moved to New York City, where Murray and Sansom soon became one of the great merchandising firms of the time. There were a dozen children in the Murray household, one son being Lindley Murray, the grammarian. Hoping the milder climate would benefit her husband’s health, Mrs. Murray took her family to England where they lived for eleven years, returning to America during the first year of the Revolution.

Always a belle, she is described as a lady of great dignity and stateliness of manner, mild and amiable, quick at repartee. She and her daughters were ardent patriots, but Mr. Murray, the rich merchant and landowner, was not unnaturally a Tory, loyal to the Crown. Shortly before peace was made with England, after the success at Yorktown had crowned Washington’s efforts for America, Mrs. Murray died.

But on the fifteenth of September, 1776, Mary Lindley Murray gave aid to Washington, her contribution to the War for Independence being woman’s wit and beauty. That September was a difficult month for the patriots. At the end of August had come the British victory at the battle of Long Island, and Washington’s skilful retreat to Manhattan. As usual Howe was dilatory in following and not until sixteen days later did he cross with his troops.

The fifteenth of September was a hot day. From their country house on a hill near the center of Manhattan Island the Murrays looked down on the new breastworks thrown up at Kip’s Bay. They knew the Americans were scattered--the main force at the north on Harlem Heights, and Putnam’s men far to the south. Then up the East River sailed five British men-of-war and anchored opposite the Murray house, in the bay. Before the handful of militiamen had time to wonder why the ships had come, out swarmed a number of dories. To the Murrays, watching from the hill half a mile away, the river seemed suddenly dyed scarlet, for under cover of the warships’ guns eighty-four boats landed the British soldiers, while up the bank clambered four thousand Redcoats, driving the Americans before them. At the first fire, the Continentals fled from their trenches back to higher ground, fled in head-long retreat.

Four miles to the north Washington heard the booming of cannon and galloped down to the scene of action. To his astonishment and consternation his men were flying in all directions. Riding excitedly into the midst of the runaways he shouted, “Take to the wall! Take to the cornfield!” His attempt to rally them was vain. Chagrined he would have ridden straight into danger, had not an aide seized his horse’s bridle and turned the general back toward safety. In great confusion and disorder the post at the bay was deserted. And there were Putnam’s divisions to the south, separated from the main army, caught in a trap if the British threw their men across the island.

Now this was exactly General Howe’s plan, but he failed to count Mrs. Murray into his scheme. From the bay he marched west for a half-mile until he came to the Murray house. Set in a wide lawn, with extensive gardens on either side, “Belmont” was considered one of the loveliest spots on the island. Its fair mistress had heard the firing, had seen the disorderly retreat and realized what the Americans needed most of all was time. She would make it for them!

She posted a maid in the cupola of the great square mansion, with orders to report to her by signals how Putnam was progressing. It was a season of extreme drought, and the dense clouds of dust made it easy to follow his march. At the proper time Mrs. Murray sent a negro servant with a cordial invitation to General Howe and his staff to dine with her. This genial Quaker lady was not unknown to the Britishers, for they had met her in England. Here was an opportunity to renew the acquaintance of peaceful days, but duty first, for a general.

“I do thank you, madam,” was Howe’s courteous reply, “but I must first catch that rascally Yankee, Putnam.”

“Did thee not hear he had gone?” was her quick rejoinder. “It is too late to catch him. Pursuit is hopeless. Thee had better come in and dine.”

If Putnam was really out of reach there was no need for haste, and the day was sweltering. So across the broad veranda and into the cool attractive house went Howe, with Clinton and Cornwallis and Governor Tryon, and others of his staff. Outside, in the hot September sun, his men rested and prepared and ate their midday meal. Within, Mrs. Murray and her beautiful daughters proved charming hostesses, with a warm welcome for their English guests. The good merchant, who was known to be heartily loyal to the king, was not at home that day, but his rare old Madeira was served with dainty cakes after the dinner.

So witty and delightful was the talk, so keenly did the others enjoy Tryon’s raillery of their hostess about her patriot friends and how the ragged Continentals had run that morning, that not one of them noticed the rapid flight of time. And you may be sure that Mistress Murray prolonged their stay, bearing the teasing with rare good humor and making herself thoroughly agreeable, for every moment gained would count.

Meanwhile, half a mile to the west, Putnam was hurrying northward, his march greatly hampered by his cannon, his camp impedimenta, and the refugee women and children. Terribly they suffered from the heat. Alexander Hamilton gallantly led one company. A young major, Aaron Burr, acted as guide, for he knew every foot of the ground; riding back and forth he showed the patriots bypaths and lanes through the thickets, until ahead they saw Washington’s tents on the heights of Harlem, and knew they were safe. Through Mrs. Murray’s hospitality the British had lost their chance to take four thousand prisoners. Her own wit and her husband’s wine had saved the day.

Behind the Harlem entrenchments the patriots were ready for Howe’s attack the following morning, and a spirited encounter that was in the buckwheat field. But the British failed to capture the heights and so force Washington off the island. Counted only by the number of men engaged, this was really not a great battle, but it was a great victory for the Americans who had lost heart after their defeat on Long Island and their forced evacuation of New York. It restored their confidence and put new hope into their hearts. It clinched Washington’s determination and made possible the brilliant exploits at Trenton and Princeton.

In Revolutionary journals kept by American and British soldiers you will find Howe’s delay at the Murray home given as the reason for Putnam’s escape. And it was a common saying among the Americans that the beautiful Quaker lady had saved “Old Put,” the wolf-killer, and his four thousand men. For patriotism and courage do not exist only behind a bayonet. One can be heroic in any way that conquers circumstances.