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The Little 
 
 Red Gown 
 
 A True Story 
 by 
 
 Harriet Bray 
 
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THE LITTLE RED GOWN 
 
 A TRUE STORY 
 
 BY 
 HARRIET BRAY 
 
 Read before the 
 
 Monmouth County Historical Association 
 
 October 26, iSgg. 
 
 Published by request of the descendants of 
 Mary Stillwell. 
 
 JACOB A. LEWIS. 
 
 LAW PRINTER AND STATIONER. 
 
 MAT A WAN. N. J, 
 
 a^i^iN 
 

 
NOTE. 
 
 I can vouch for the truth of the principal 
 statements and incidents in this story. Mary 
 Stillwell, was the daughter of John Stillwell, 
 who was a sterling patriot and a Quartermas- 
 ter of the First Regiment of the Monmouth 
 Militia in the war of the American Revolu- 
 tion. He owned a farm at Garret's Hill, in 
 the Township of Middletown. where he re- 
 sided, his house and farm buildings were 
 burned, and his farm stock all stolen by the 
 Tories and refugees in the war. His wife 
 was Elizabeth Watson, daughter of John 
 and Hope Taylor Watson, the latter marry- 
 ing John Burrowes upon the death of her 
 first husband. 
 
 Elizabeth Stillwell had a sister Hope 
 Watson, who married Col. Asher Holmes of 
 the Continental Army, and a cousin was 
 Mary Taylor, the wife of Absalom Bain- 
 bridge, and the mother of Commodore 
 Bainbridge. 
 
 Mary Stillwell was about eight years of 
 age at the time of the Battle of Monmouth, 
 and lived with her mother on the homestead. 
 The flight of Elizabeth and her children to 
 the house of ^er cousin. George Taylor, a 
 Loyalist, the Encampment of a portion of the 
 British Army at Garret's Hill the day after 
 
the battle, the establishment of Gen. Corn- 
 wallis' headquarters at George Taylor's 
 house, the fondness of the General for Mary, 
 and her sitting upon his knee singing Whig 
 songs with great zest, her discovery of her 
 red short-gown on a little Tory girl among 
 the camp followers and her complaint to the 
 General who caused the garment to be re- 
 stored to its rightful owner, are matters of 
 well-founded tradition, and verified by state- 
 ment of Elizabeth Stillwell to her grand- 
 children some of whom are still living. 
 
 As a matter of interest in the herome of 
 the story, 1 may add what is also true, that 
 Mary Stillwell saved her father from capture 
 by the enemy. He was visiting his home 
 one night and out of her bed-room window 
 Mary saw armed men approaching the house 
 with bayonets glistening in the moonlight. 
 Quickly apprising her father of the danger, 
 he made his escape by a rear door. Cato. 
 the colored servant, did not fare so well. 
 He, too, ran out of the house and climbed a 
 tree. He was discovered by the soldiers, 
 who pricked him with their bayonets and 
 tried to make him tell where his master was 
 but Cato could not betray him if he v ould as 
 he did not know. 
 
 John Stillwell died in 1813. at the age of 
 seventy-five years. He was a trusted friend 
 of General Forman, who loaned him a house 
 to live in when his buildings were burned, 
 until, as the General expressed it. "he could 
 better himself;" and at one time, under 
 orders of Gen. Washington, he was delegated 
 
by General Forman, who provided a spy 
 glass for the purpose, to watch the British 
 fleet in Raritan Bay from Garret's Hill, and 
 forward to Philadelphia as speedily as pos- 
 sible the news of its departure This he sc- 
 complished successfully by a relay of horses 
 every twenty miles, so that before the last 
 vessel was out of sight from the Highlands, 
 and within six hours from the weighing of 
 anchor, the information was received at 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 Elizabeth Stillwell survived her husband 
 about thirteen years and was nearly eighty- 
 two years of age at her death; both are in- 
 te red in the Baptist Church Burying Ground 
 at Middletown, of which church they were 
 members for many years, and he a promi- 
 nent official. 
 
 Mary Stillwell married Richard Applega:e. 
 and died in 1804. leaving eight children sur- 
 viving her. Her remains are interred by 
 the side of her husband in the family burying 
 ground upon the old Applegate Homestead 
 in Middletown. at Applegate's Landing. 
 
 JOHN STILLWELL APPLEGATE 
 March 25th, A. D., 1901. 
 
THE LITTLE RED GOWN, 
 
 A TRUE STORY. 
 
 SUNDAY morning. June 28, 1778, 
 was clear and cloudless, but in- 
 tensely hot. Not a breath of air stirred 
 the leaves of the tall chestnut trees; 
 the heated air quivered in the distance, 
 over the yellow grain-fields, and the 
 bay. where the British fleet lay at 
 anchor, was as smooth as glass. 
 
 In the shade of the chestnut trees 
 stood a large farm house, on the ver- 
 -rardah of which sat a little girl dressed 
 in plain, blue homespun, talking eager- 
 ly to a young slave of about eighteen 
 years of age, telling him of a new red 
 short-gown of which she was very 
 proud. Now, new dresses, for little 
 
girls or even grown people, were rare 
 articles in those days, and little Mary 
 Stillwell lived near the Jersey coast, 
 with the British fleet in sight on the 
 bay. and danger always imminent. Her 
 father was with the American army and 
 she and her mother with her baby 
 brother were protected only by the 
 slaves. 
 
 But children do not often think of 
 danger when all looks right, and Mary 
 after telling Cato how her grand-mother 
 had sent the gown added, "and it is 
 put away in the little hair trunk with 
 brass nails, for I am not going to wear 
 it till father comes home from fighting 
 the Tories, then I am going to have it 
 on and run to meet him"-but before 
 she had finished telling her little plans 
 a roar, like a peal of distant thunder, 
 attracted her attention. 
 
 ••What's that, Cato?" she asked. 
 
 "Cat sound like thunder, honey, 
 reckon we pwine to hab a shower," 
 
said Cato, looking at the sky. ^'Don^ 
 see no clouds neither," he added after 
 a careful inspection. "Unc Pomp," 
 he called to a gray-headed slave who 
 had just appeared "What kind of 
 thunder is dat? Don' see a cloud any- 
 whah." 
 
 "You Cato, you nebber did know 
 nofin," replied Uncle Pomp, "dat's no 
 thunder, dat's cannon, dey's a battle 
 somewhah. Hope dey'll chase de 
 British 'way out to sea whah dey'll neb- 
 ber come back, so Marse John can 
 come home." 
 
 Another roar, a trifle louder than the 
 first, v/as heard and several other slaves 
 came out to listen, but before they re- 
 alized that it was not the mutterings of 
 distant thunder, a fair-haired lady 
 stepped out on the verandah. She 
 glanced anxiously over the fields and 
 out over the bay at the fleet, then 
 beckoning to the old man asked. "Is not 
 that cannonading I hear. Pomp?" 
 
"Yes, Mis 'Lisabeth, I reckon dey's 
 a fight," he answered. 
 
 "Where would you thinl< it is?" she 
 questioned, looking alarmed. 
 
 "O 'tain't very close," said Pomp, 
 assuming an easy assurance which he 
 by no means felt, "it comes from de 
 norfwes' and it must be ten or 'leven 
 miles off. Reckon it's up in Freehold 
 Township, somewhah 'round de court 
 house maybe." 
 
 Mistress Stillwell who was a brave 
 woman recovered her self possession, 
 and after a moment's thought said firm- 
 ly, "Pomp, if the British are defeated 
 they will retreat this way to reach the 
 fleet. It is not safe for us to stay here 
 and we must go at once for I see a 
 commotion among the boats now." 
 
 The six slaves ail began to talk at 
 once and the hubbub increased as they 
 saw a young negro running across the 
 fields toward them. Cato seized his 
 little pet, Mary, and was about to run 
 
with her, when old Pomp's voice was 
 heard above the uproar. '*You Cato, 
 you put dat chile down, and all you folks 
 you jes' keep still, dat's no soldier 
 comin', 'tain't de right color, dat's only 
 Marse Taylor's Sann, and if you don't 
 keep still Missus can't hear what he 
 hab to say, an' habn't we got to take 
 care of Missus an' de chilins? Didn't 
 Marse John say so?" 
 
 Sam came up breathless and pant- 
 ing and said, "Mis' Stillwell, Marse 
 George he say, you an" de chilins jes' 
 come right ober to our house 'cause de 
 red coats might came any minute, an' 
 he can't do nofin with you a mile away. 
 He say don' stop to fetch nothin' but 
 jes' come right off." 
 
 Mary at first clung to Cato in terror 
 but seeing her mother calm, and think- 
 ing of her absent father, she began to 
 feel more courageous and during the 
 next exciting half hour, acted like a 
 brave little maiden. She and her 
 
mother, with Pomp who carried the baby, 
 were soon walking across the fields, for 
 every horse was at the war. The slaves 
 followed, each carrying what he could 
 find in the hasty flight. They went to 
 Mistress Stillwell's cousin, Master 
 George Taylor, who was still loyal to 
 King George, and to whose protection 
 they had owed their safety more than 
 once. As they approached the house, 
 Mary suddenly thought of her beautiful 
 new short-gown, which had been left to 
 its fate, but seeing her mother's anxious 
 face, she bravely kept her trouble to 
 herself and mentioned her loss only to 
 the sympathizing Cato. 
 
 All that day the roar and vibration 
 of distant artillery were noticeable and 
 occasionally rumors of defeat or of 
 victory were heard. During the night 
 Mary was wakened by the tramp of 
 soldiers, and in the morning found the 
 house surrounded by red coated soldiers 
 and hersel^ staying at the headquarters 
 
of General Cornwallis; for the battle 
 of Monmouth, through the treachery 
 or carelessness of Lee, had not been 
 a decisive victory for the Americans, 
 and the British had quietly drawn off 
 to the shore in the night. Sir Henry 
 Clinton and his army encamped along 
 the coast; here they remained about 
 a week until preparations for embarking 
 were completed, and General Corn- 
 wallis made the house of loyal Master 
 Taylor his head-quarters. 
 
 That day as Mary was walking on 
 the verandah, holding her mother's 
 hand and looking at the soldiers, of 
 whom she was sorely afraid at first, 
 she saw through the open window a 
 short, rather fat, man with small eyes 
 and a powdered wig, who sat writing at a 
 table. The gentleman, who was no 
 other than Cornwallis himself, was at- 
 tracted by the bright little girl and call- 
 ed her to him. They soon became 
 good friends and, an hour later, when 
 
Cato was carrying some refreshments 
 to the General and his staff, he nearly 
 dropped his tray in amazement at the 
 sight of his small mistress seated on 
 General Cornwallis' knee, singing the 
 staunchest of whig songs to the officers 
 who were laughing heartily. From 
 that hour Mary was the pet of the 
 whole regiment from General to drum- 
 mer boy. 
 
 One morning one of the officers, 
 while making a leisurely inspection of the 
 camp, took Mary with him and Cato, 
 who never quite trusted any English- 
 man, followed a short distance behind. 
 In a field near the regular encampment 
 was a rude party of camp followers— 
 the "mixed multitude" always found in 
 the wake of an army and, during the 
 Revolution, more dreaded than the 
 British soldiers, or even the Hessians 
 themselves, for being Americans, they 
 knew the country better and were more 
 skillful in plundering. Mary's sharp 
 
eyes saw that there were women, and 
 even some little girls, in the camp, and 
 what was her dismay to see a small 
 Tory arrayed in her beautiful new 
 scarlet gown for which she had not 
 ceased to grieve. Her first impulse 
 was to run at once and capture it, but 
 fear of the Tories and the restraining 
 hand of the officer in whose care she 
 was, prevented that; then she begged 
 so earnestly to be allowed to return to 
 the house, that the soldier handed her 
 over to the devoted Cato, wondering 
 why she had so suddenly lost interest in 
 the encampment. 
 
 Mary r2.n to the house as fast as her 
 little feet could carry her, meaning to tell 
 hermotherof her startling discovery, but, 
 seeing her friend General Cornwallis 
 through the open door and, before Cato, 
 or the armed sentry in the hall could 
 interfere, she darted into the room, 
 making her courtesy so quickly that it 
 was only a funny little bob, and gasped 
 
"0, General Cornwallis, there is a 
 naughty little Tory out there, no bigger 
 than I am, and she has got n:iy beauti- 
 ful new red gown," and, being only a 
 little girl, Mary began to cry. 
 
 Cato, seeing that the General was 
 busy with his writing, and fearing that 
 Mary might be severely punished for 
 her audacity, ran frantically upstairs and 
 finding Mistress Stillwell cried out ex- 
 citedly, "O Mis' Lisabeth, Mary done 
 run into de General's office, whar 
 nobody's 'lowed to go, an' she done 
 'sturb him. Jes' please go right down 
 an' don' let 'em hurt her, fo' nobody 
 knows what a British man mout do, an' 
 I ain't heerd how his gout is to-day 
 neither." 
 
 As they came through the hall 
 Mistress Stillwell could see that Gate's 
 fes.rs were groundless, for the kind- 
 hearted General had stopped writing 
 and Mary was leaning her curly head 
 against his shoulder, as confidingly as if 
 
he were her father, and telling him that 
 "little girls don't have new dresses now- 
 a-days for every shilling goes to father 
 to help fight the British, and we have 
 to wear ugly homespun, but my grandma 
 sent me a pretty red short-gown, and 
 now the Tories have got it" and the 
 tears were ready to fall again, but the 
 General said: 
 
 "Cheer up, little maiden, and we will 
 see what can be done." 
 
 He called an orderly and commanded 
 him to take Mary with him, and bring to 
 the house the little girl from among the 
 camp followers, whom she should select. 
 
 Mistress Stillwell was now ushered 
 into the General's presence, somewhat 
 more formally than her daughter had 
 been, and made her apologies for 
 Mary's intrusion. General Cornwallis 
 after assuring her that no apology was 
 needed, asked her to be seated and 
 chatted pleasantly until Mary returned 
 in triumph with her young prisoner who 
 
still wore the much desired scarlet 
 gown and who was very much frighten- 
 ed indeed. 
 
 General Cornwallis asked her where 
 she got the dress which she wore. 
 After much hesitation she managed to 
 falter— "mother got it over at the farm 
 house on the hill— the one with the big 
 chestnut trees--the one where the rebel 
 John Stillwell lives— mother got it out 
 of a little trunk." 
 
 "But," said the General "it belongs 
 to this little girl," pointing to Mary who 
 stood by his side, "and you must give 
 it to her, although she is a little rebel 
 and 1 cannot make a royalist of her." 
 Then turning to Mary he added, "run, 
 sweetheart, and let mother put the 
 gown on you, and then come show me 
 how pretty you look." 
 
 Mistress Stillwell took the two 
 children from the room, and in a few 
 minutes, the little Tory clothed in 
 homespun went back to the camp. 
 
while a little lady, bright as a flamingo, 
 instead of running to meet the Quar'er- 
 master of the first regiment, Monmouth 
 Militia, as she had planned to do on 
 the first appearance of the gown, walk- 
 ed proudly in and made a most elabo- 
 rate courtesy to Lord Cornwallis, the 
 British Commander, who kissed her 
 and gave her a gold piece, then teassd 
 her, calling her h's little red-coat. 
 
 The months and years passed away 
 and Mary, living in the heart of the 
 war, had many adventures, but of none 
 did her children ,:nd gr=-ndch Idrsn love 
 to hear so well, as oi the recovery of 
 the little red gov/n at the intervention 
 of the British General, and never would 
 Mistress Stillwell hear a word against 
 Lord Cornwallis, whose unfailing courte- 
 sy and kindness made her forced resi- 
 dence at the Royalist Headquarters so 
 endurable. 
 

 
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