USA > Rhode Island > The "Old Stone Bank" history of Rhode Island, Vol. III > Part 24
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General Sullivan remained in command of what was left of the American army until April 1779, when he was relieved by General Gates, and during that winter very little happened in these parts in the way of military activities. The people suffered a great deal though - prices were high, food was scarce and money was hard to get. Continental paper currency was practically worthless and the treasury was empty. In the face of this depression of 1778 and 1779, one that affected the well-to-do and poor alike, Rhode Island struggled under the added burden of try- ing to do its share in supporting the war that brought countless demands upon its hopeful, patriotic citizens. Militiamen had to be fed and clothed, families whose fathers and sons were away at the front had to be sheltered and protected, taxes had to be paid to Continental Congress to maintain an efficient army in the field. History shows that honest, resourceful administration of local government to- gether with practically universal devotion to American ideals among Rhode Island- ers, withstood complete disaster until there came another turn in events that restored fast-ebbing courage and bright- ened the hopes for victory.
Early in October 1779, a fleet of British transports arrived off Newport and the
rumor quickly spread that Sir Henry Clinton was about to take his troops away from Rhode Island and send them to the South where the greatest military activity was then centered. The immediate trans- fer of stores from shore to ship, the plun- dering of private property in Newport, the burning of barracks, and all of the "destroy what you cannot take" tactics that go with a general evacuation of troops promptly confirmed the rumor. October 25 was Newport's Evacuation Day and on that day everyone remaining there was warned to stay behind doors on pain of death. By evening the last boat- load had been taken to the waiting trans- ports and one can readily imagine the scenes in the old port when not a redcoat, not a Hessian, nor even a despised Tory could be found anywhere. Picture the hurried searches for long lost belongings, the excited return of many families to familiar scenes (nearly three quarters of the inhabitants had fled during the pro- longed British occupancy); try to imagine the viewing of ruined homes and business places, more than five hundred of which had been destroyed at British hands. For many, many months the invaders had slept in beds owned by Newport families; dishes, furniture, linen, books, jewelry, heirlooms, keepsakes, all had become an- other's property by right of conquest. Precious belongings, priceless to some through sentiment and personal evalua- tion, were either destroyed or ruined be- yond repair; comfortable, liveable homes had long since become four walls and a roof for plain, rough conquerors who were paid to fight when they were told, and who procured as much of life's common comforts as the immediate surroundings provided, whether it was a humble farm- er's home and barn, a house of worship, an abandoned well-stocked tavern, or a princely mansion of a shipowner. And there wasn't much left in Newport for those who hurriedly returned to rescue what once had been personal property - the British took away all that they could carry including the early town records in manuscript form, but these were recov- ered some years later.
Nevertheless there was great joy and congratulation among Rhode Islanders
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when the hated enemy finally departed, and this sentiment prevailed until the winter months of 1779-1780 brought on widespread suffering. That winter was one of great severity, the cold being so intense that all of Narragansett Bay was frozen over for nearly six weeks - provi- sions and fuel were very scarce and prices for both food and wood were prohibitive. All of Rhode Island suffered, but espe- cially Newport where those who had returned to their ruined community late in the Fall had been unable to reestablish themselves in homes and in employment before the coming of most unusual winter hardships. Again good government and unselfish cooperation in a common cause averted a threatened famine and provided food and warmth for the poor.
We have now arrived at the Spring of 1780 in the narrative of Rhode Island in the Revolution. Washington's army was in a most distressing condition; Charles- ton had been surrendered; disaffection and despair seemed to reign among the Ameri- can soldiers at the front. Renewed de- mands were being made upon the Colonies for men, money and supplies. In view of what the foregoing description has re- vealed in respect to Rhode Island's home problems, is it not inspiring even now to learn that the local General Assembly, at the June session, voted to send a regiment of 610 men to help Washington and to provide for the sending of a quantity of supplies ?
But, now for facts that are considerably more cheerful. Marie Jean Paul Roch Yves Gilbert Motier Lafayette, native of France, born 1757, and the son of a military hero, offered his help to an infant American republic in 1776. After some delays caused by political misunderstand- ings, this Marquis de Lafayette, or as we now commonly refer to this distinguished ally, General Lafayette, was attached to General Washington's staff and became a member of his military family. Before the year 1777 had come to an end he had been wounded, and during the following year he was made a General of Division and given the thanks of Congress for his conduct at the battle of Monmouth. We heard a little about General Lafayette in connection with the Battle of Rhode
Island, in which he took a prominent part, and in regard to his efforts to bring the French fleet back to Newport from Bos- ton when a hard battle on the island down the Bay appeared imminent. In 1779, it was necessary for this friendly French leader to return to France since his coun- try had declared war against England, but while he remained in his native land he aroused his people to an enthusiastic support of the American cause. Thus, by the time he left for his second visit to this side of the Atlantic, his King had assured him that troops would be sent from France to take an active part in struggle for Amer- ican independence. Lafayette returned to America bringing this welcome news.
And now we are back again to the spring and early summer of 1780. Under the direction of General Lafayette a sys- tem of signals was devised to assist an expected French fleet in reaching port safely. If the British held Newport, American flags would be flying on Block Island and at Point Judith and Sakonnet; whereas, if the colonists were in control of Newport, French flags would be displayed at the same places. On July 9, 1780, a long overdue and much battered flotilla emerged from the limitless horizons of the sea and approached that remote speck of sand dunes, cliffs and pebbly beaches now called No Man's Land, near Martha's Vineyard, and there learned its position from a lone fishing craft. The next eve- ning these ships were in sight of Rhode Island shores. The following day, a typi- cal July fog settled down so that no signal flags could be discerned, in fact, nothing could be seen until late afternoon when the fog suddenly lifted and revealed, fly- ing gaily at a staff head on Point Judith, the fleur-de-lys of France. The Americans held Newport. That night six ships of the line commanded by Admiral Chevalier de Ternay anchored in Newport Harbor, convoying six thousand soldiers in thirty- five transports, the troops commanded by Jean Baptiste Donatien de Vimeure, Count de Rochambeau, General of France, born in 1725. Lafayette's promise had been kept - General Rochambeau landed ahead of his troops and sought a camping ground while the fleet lay at anchor be- tween Rose Island and Brenton's Point.
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The next day men and supplies were moved ashore. Since about one third of the Frenchmen were afflicted with scurvy and other ailments, it was necessary to provide immediate hospitalization. Some of the disabled were put under medical care in the old Newport State House and in the Congregational Church, while others were sent to Poppasquash across the harbor from Bristol, and to Provi- dence. General Washington immediately sent a message of congratulation and wel-
come to the French Commander, and General Rochambeau wrote to the Ameri- can leader as follows:
"We are now, sir, under your command . and I hope that in a month we shall be ready to act under Your Excellency's orders. It is hardly necessary for me to tell Your Excellency that I bring sufficient funds to pay in cash for whatever is needed by the King's army and that we shall maintain as strict discipline as if we were under the walls of Paris."
CHRISTMAS IN 1780
T was the year 1780 and Christmas time I in Providence where not many more than twenty-five hundred war-weary souls were preparing for the age-old holiday ob- servance with just a little more enthusiasm than they had been able to arouse for, what seemed to them, a long, long time. And, it had been a long time since the startling news of the fateful clash of arms at Lexington had disrupted the ordinary course of things in all Rhode Island. April 19, 1775, then seemed like a day in the dim past, only faintly recalled as the time when it all began. Too many things had happened, had occurred in rapid suc- cession, for any one hour, day or event to stand out in any great degree of prom- inence then, for the crushing burdens of war still rested heavily upon the shoulders of Rhode Islanders and of all those in America who, for more than five years, had resolutely sought liberty through armed resistance.
Long forgotten by the people of Provi- dence in 1780 were the quiet times of ordered existence. No longer were the laborious but tranquil pursuits of agri- culture, and the methodical tasks of trade and commerce familiar to the com- paratively few men who remained at home; no longer were household duties for the women, routines of regular habits and practices. Providence like many Ameri- can communities was a military camp; talk of war filled the air; machinery of war cluttered the streets; no family could escape or avoid the destructive, discon- certing effects of a bitter struggle that
still raged on native soil. For many months since '75 Providence had been near to the actual fighting, hundreds of soldiers had tramped through its streets to battle, and on their way back to home or hospital. Young men, old men, many had smelled the smoke of battle, been shaken by the sudden burst of bombard- ment. While old wounds and new wounds were healed under the patient care of frightened, hopeful wives and mothers - cherished notes from the front were pressed against anxious breasts. In all wars man-made instruments of destruc- tion shatter the minds and bodies of humans far out of the range of their death- dealing missiles. Battlefields encompass vastly more than the serried ranks and drawn up reserves of fighting armies.
But, it was now Christmas in Provi- dence and it was the year 1780 when something had happened that gave re- newed hope to those who sought liberty through strife. In the summer six thou- sand men had come from far-off France to help the American colonists in their cause, and this formidable force of eager allies had the good fortune to complete a long and stormy ocean voyage in Rhode Island waters. Leaving their ships in Newport harbor, Count de Rochambeau's troops were promptly quartered in the old seaport at the lower end of the Bay. Many were ill, however, after the crossing and had to be provided immediately with hospital care.
The ill French soldiers who remained in Newport were quartered in the Old
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State House and in the Congregational Church; some were sent to Bristol; and about three hundred and forty were trans- ported to Providence and placed in Uni- versity Hall, on College Hill, Brown's orig- inal structure, which was ordered to be turned over to the French by the Council of War. Brown University's precious pile of perfect Colonial design was a hospital for sick, lonesome native French war- riors when the snow began to fall lightly late in the afternoon of December 24, 1780.
For many weeks the Frenchmen who had escaped illness and who could actively prepare for service at the front with Wash- ington's army had virtually spellbound both Newport and Providence with their dazzling uniforms and courtly manners. People took their new guests as a form of wine, responding miraculously to their invigorating presence. Rhode Islanders, bruised and battered by every blow known to war, began to laugh again in the re- newed gaiety of social life, and turned with a new heart to build up a bustling business and trade. The best mansions were thrown open to the French officers, and many homesteads, especially in Newport, were allotted to them as quarters. Bril- liant parties and balls sprang into imme- diate vogue, and the two chief seaports of Rhode Island outdid themselves in courtesy and hospitality. Newport wit- nessed most of the social renaissance but Providence and other communities were not far behind in the whirl of entertain- ment. Nor were the Frenchmen one whit behind. Perhaps they had heard that a reputation for foppish ways and broad views about life preceded their arrival in this country; at any rate, they deliber- ately set out to shatter the truth of such unfair rumors. Certainly, by acting from the beginning with the most perfect decorum and grace, they dispelled what- ever apprehensions American people may have had. Rather, the sight of their brilliant regalia, their gleaming swords, cockades, buttoned boots, the white uniforms of the Deux Ponts Regiment, the green and white of the Saintonge, the black and red of the Bourbonnais, and the rose facings of the Soissonais with white and rose pluming surmounting
grenadier caps, soon caused many a feminine heart to flutter, perhaps to feel that war really wasn't so terrible after all.
But the belles of Rhode Island were not · alone in feeling the delightful quickening of the pulse and the excited beating of the heart. Charming as the Frenchmen had found America, they were unanimous in their praise of its beautiful women. Refined, attractive, gallant and always considerate, they vied among themselves for the honor of paying tribute to their fair Colonial hostesses and partners at gay social functions. Many a French heart was left behind on the shores of Narragan- sett Bay at parting time, and many a romance, friendship and broken heart can never be recalled. But, we are thinking particularly now of Christmas Eve, in 1780, when, in the midst of the joy and merriment that a chance meeting of the Old World and the new brought to these shores, three hundred or more strangers rested quietly in the dimly-lighted halls and chambers of old University Hall on College Hill.
Somewhere that afternoon a group of French officers had met intending to celebrate the approaching Christmas Eve. They were thinking and talking of Paris and of little villages in their faraway homeland - they pictured in their minds the familiar scenes of Christmas back home. They wondered what the holiday would be like in Puritanical New Eng- land where, for many years, old world customs had been put aside for more austere, conservative rites and forms of observance. But, several rounds of Madeira wine, and perhaps a few hot toddies which the cold November days in Rhode Island had taught these strangers to relish, soon dispelled all somber thoughts and longings for home. Songs soon replaced thoughts and words, and when candle lights began to flicker in the gray of twilight, the merry spirit of an old time Christmas spread to every corner of the tavern room, not far from the Market House. The tunes they sang were familiar to all, but the words sounded strange to the Providence folks who peered through the steaming panes of the tavern windows and who crowded into the room to join the happy Frenchmen. Greetings were
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exchanged, well wishes extended, toasts drunk to General Washington, to Count de Rochambeau, to Lafayette, to the pretty girls of Providence, to Rhode Island, to Christmas.
Then some one suggested that a sere- nade be given the sick Frenchmen on the Hill; and hardly had the suggestion been offered when an impromptu procession was formed in front of the tavern. Two musicians with a flute and a viola appeared from somewhere, volunteer ser- enaders appeared from everywhere. Headed by a popular tavern keeper in the town who linked arms with a stalwart Grenadier from the Royal Deux Ponts, the singing, laughing, arm-waving file, becoming longer and longer by the minute, circled Market Square and then tramped through the mud and slush up the hill leading to the Military Hospital long since vacated by President Manning's prospective lawyers, doctors and preach- ers.
There were no Van Wickle gates to pass through then, no sidewalks for hand clapping spectators to stand upon and watch the fun. College Hill that night was just a sloping, treelined cowpath, but no College victory parade along that famous thoroughfare ever had more genuine enthusiasm, heartfelt spirit than did the procession of jolly carollers on the eve of Christmas in 1780.
Standing beneath the great elms that were probably the grandparents of the stately trees now surrounding Brown's original college building, Frenchmen, Englishmen, officers, soldiers, tavern- keepers, boys, pretty girls and aged patriarchs waited for the signal, and then, as the snow fell lightly upon cockades, bonnets, fur caps and beavers, they sang of Christmas. It was an old tune, a French tune, but both English and foreign words seemed to fit the rhythm and meter of the melody. Words did not matter, it was the spirit of the singing, and the three hundred or more lonesome, bodily-ill strangers behind those hoary walls heard the voices; they knew it was Christmas in Providence, Christmas everywhere. Tears came to eyes, prayers were mut- tered, heads fell back upon rough straw pallets, but a bond of union, of sympathy and understanding, had joined all in a common spirit of peace on earth, goodwill to men. And, as the last strains of "Lift up your gates, ye Princes, and let the child be born," or some other old European carol, reached the ears of those who listened within, some one ran to the steps of the ancient edifice and shouted loudly, "Merry Christmas to all, Merry Christmas to all," and the answer came back from every hall, from every room, "Joyeux Noël, Joyeux Noël." It was a Merry Christmas for all in Providence, in 1780.
STEPHEN OLNEY
M ARCH 17th is not only St. Patrick's Day, but it is also the anniversary of that ever-to-be remembered day in Amer- ican history when the British departed from Boston for an unknown destination, a departure that brought joy to the hearts of Massachusetts folks and fear into hearts of Rhode Islanders. It was all very well for the hated enemy force to relieve Boston of its unwelcome presence but it must have been terrifying to the patriots living in these parts when rumors had it that the next stop was to be Narragansett Bay. History reveals that such was not the objective of the British army, al-
though later invasions proved to be supremely annoying for Rhode Islanders. Let us turn to the pages of local annals that have to do with the exciting days of the War for Independence and consider the Olneys, a Rhode Island family de- scended from Thomas Olney, a contem- porary of Roger Williams, and a joint proprietor in the "Providence Purchase." The family of Olney of Rhode Island gave to the war of the Revolution the services of four of its members. Stephen, who be- came a Captain; Jeremiah who attained the rank of Colonel; Christopher who be- came a Major; and Coggeshall Olney, who
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also became a Major. These men all per- formed notable war service for their country and left honorable records. This account will treat of the first of these, Stephen, who is regarded by historians as an outstanding hero.
Stephen Olney was born in the town of North Providence on September 17, 1756, the very year that his future Commander- in-Chief, George Washington, paid his first visit to Rhode Island, stopping with friends in Newport for a day or two on his way to Boston. The first nineteen years of Stephen's life were spent on a farm, a life which he loved and intended to pursue, amid plenty of rural comforts and in quiet. Never had the sound of war or contention of any kind disturbed his own or his family's happiness or simple order of existence. He married young, in his twentieth year, and had complacently settled down to pass his allotted days in cultivating the soil on his farm, in rearing a family and walking in the footsteps of his father.
The only military inclination in his character that can be discerned previous to his entrance into the national struggle is the record of his membership in the North Providence Rangers, one of the several patriotic military companies that were organized in Rhode Island, their object being "to learn military tactics and to be prepared to act in defense of our country's rights."
Immediately following the receipt of the news telling of what happened at Lexington and Concord, Rhode Island lost no time in organizing three regiments and in sending them into the front lines, so to speak. Stephen Olney, farm boy and private in the North Providence Rangers, was appointed an Ensign in one of these regiments commanded by Colonel Hitch- cock. This was called the second regi- ment and Ensign Olney was assigned to a company in command of Captain John Angell. Olney's own observation on this military assignment is interesting. He said in part: "Who recommended me I do not know; but it was not by my own intercession, but perhaps they chose me because they could get no better, so many were deterred from embarking in the cause for fear they might be hanged
for rebels by order of our then gracious Sovereign, George III. I accepted this commission with much diffidence as to my qualifications; my education was but common for that day, and worst of all, what I had learned was mostly wrong." He added: "I had no fear that our gracious Sovereign would think me worth hanging for a rebel."
After the period of exasperating delays in Rhode Island when loyalty to the crown in high places created strong opposition to all measures taken by friends of liberty, Governors Wanton and Ses- sions retired, the one to his farm and other to his business, and then General Nathanael Greene's little Rhode Island Army of three regiments received official orders to depart for the scene of action. On May 1, 1775, Col. Hitchcock's regi- ment paraded to the North Providence meeting-house where prayers were said, blessings given, the last fond embrace and fevered shake of the hand exchanged, and the little band prepared to march to Roxbury, Massachusetts, on the following day.
After a tedious hike of about forty miles the three regiments of Rhode Island infantry and one company of artillery found themselves near Boston, the red- coats in sight, strongly fortified, and in a much better situation than they had imagined. They encamped on Jamaica Plain, some little distance southwest of Roxbury, where they were drilled to military and camp duties until the Battle of Bunker Hill on June 17th. The Rhode Island troops were subjected to a heavy bombardment during the memorable battle, and this showering of shells upon the Roxbury area was probably an enemy attempt to draw attention from what was going on at Bunker Hill. Stephen Olney wrote some very interesting comments on the scene when "the Rhode Island troops were drawn up just within reach of their (the enemy) shells, and not being acquainted with those sort of missiles, it was with great difficulty that the men could be kept in the ranks, especially when they imagined a shell was about to light on their heads."
Between Bunker Hill in the Spring of '75 and the day of evacuation in March
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1776 was that tiresome period of entrench- ing, pot-shot fighting, arduous war camp duties, frightful epidemics and untold suffering on the part of soldiers and civilians alike. Washington finally arrived with reserves, competent officers and the inspiration of leadership. A new army had been organized. Stephen Olney, already distinguished for his gallantry and mili- tary ability, was promoted to the commis- sion of First Lieutenant and was attached to a regiment that had Col. Daniel Hitch- cock, Lt. Col. Cornell and Major Israel Angell as field officers.
Soon after March 17th the troops, including many of the Rhode Islanders who had reenlisted, were ordered to New York. They marched by way of Provi- dence where they halted, and Lieutenant Stephen Olney obtained leave to visit and stay one night with his family. This he says "was the first favor of the kind since I engaged in the army, and previous to this, I had never been from home more than twenty-four hours at a time in my life." Olney's regiment was next sta- tioned on Long Island, at Brooklyn Heights. Here the men were kept busy erecting fortifications and also active in driving away small parties of enemy marauders who robbed the inhabitants of whatever hands could be laid upon. Lieutenant Olney was one of a party that captured seven or eight of these roving foragers one night, and from them some most important information was gained.
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