~ About My Ride ~
Now, you may be wondering why I thought it would be a good idea to make a website about myself. Well, I'm actually remembered for an impromptu ride I took during the American Revolutionary War. In my opinion, the best description of what actually happened comes from Willis Fletcher Johnson's book Colonel Henry Ludington: A Memoir, with commentary by Vincent T. Dacquino:
At eight or nine o'clock that evening a jaded horseman reached Colonel Ludington's home with the news. We may imagaine the fire that flashed through the veterans veins at the report of the dastardly act of his former chief. [General Tyron, the last of the British govenors of New York, had appointed Colonel Ludington a captain in a colonial regiment before the Colonel became a revolutionary.] But what to do? His regiment was disbanded; its members scattered at their homes, many at considerable distances. [It was April, planting season, and the farmers needed to tend their fields and were granted leaves to get their farm work done.]He must stay there to muster all who came in. The messenger from Danbury could ride no more, and there was no neighbor within call. In this emergency he turned to his daughter Sybil, who, a few days before, had passed her sixteenth birthday, and bade her to take a horse, ride for the men, and tell them to be at his house by daybreak. One who even rides dangerous roads, with lonely stretches. Imagination only can picture what it was a quarter and a century ago [now over to centuries ago] on a dark night, with reckless bands of "Cowboys" and "Skinners" abroad in the land. But she performed her task, clinging to a man's saddle, and guiding her steed with only a hempen halter, as she rode through the night, bearing the news of the sack of Danbury. There is no extravagance in comparing her ride with that of Paul Revere and its midnight message. Nor was her errand less efficient than his was. By daybreak, thanks to her daring, nearly the whole regiment was mustered before her father's house at Fredricksburgh, and an hour or two later was on the march for vengeance on the raiders. (pg 89-91)
In more common terms, British General William Tyron invaded Connecticut from Long Island sound with 2000 men one April night in 1777. He wanted to burn Danbury, a treasure trove of revolutionary stores, before marching his troops toward Dutchess and Westchester Counties. While the British were burning Danbury, a messenger rode the 17 miles to the Ludington home to warn my father, Colonel Henry Ludington, of the imminent attacks. Because my father had to stay at the house to plan an attack, the messenger was exhausted, and there was no one else available, I accepted the mission to ride the 40 miles around the dangerous area to summon my father's regiment. The area was not only dangerous because of General Tyron's soldiers. The territory was sandwiched by the British and American armies, and was consequently filled with loyalists, deserters, and thieves waiting to prey on any passersby. However, I managed to ride safely through the night, and successfully summoned my father's regiment to our house by daybreak.
~ About Me ~
I was born on April 5th, 1761 to Henry Ludington and Abigail Knowles Ludington. My parents raised my eleven siblings and I in West Dutchess County (now in Putnam County).
My name is Sybil Ludington, although I often enjoy playing around with the spelling. I signed my Revolutionary War pension application, "Sebal," my sister Mary spelled it "Sebil" in her letters, in an 1810 census I'm listed as "Sibel," and I appear as "Cybil" elsewhere, too. My name doesn't appear officially as "Sybil" anywhere, even though it's the conventional spelling now. Perhaps my name is more phonetic than spelling-reliant.
In 1784, at twenty-three years old, I married Edmond Ogden. Edmond was a farmer and innkeeper, and I helped him with whatever was necessary. We settled in Unadilla, NY in 1792, after the birth of our only child, Henry. There we lived until my death on February 26, 1839, at the age of 77.
My name is Sybil Ludington, although I often enjoy playing around with the spelling. I signed my Revolutionary War pension application, "Sebal," my sister Mary spelled it "Sebil" in her letters, in an 1810 census I'm listed as "Sibel," and I appear as "Cybil" elsewhere, too. My name doesn't appear officially as "Sybil" anywhere, even though it's the conventional spelling now. Perhaps my name is more phonetic than spelling-reliant.
In 1784, at twenty-three years old, I married Edmond Ogden. Edmond was a farmer and innkeeper, and I helped him with whatever was necessary. We settled in Unadilla, NY in 1792, after the birth of our only child, Henry. There we lived until my death on February 26, 1839, at the age of 77.
~ About My Family ~
My father, Colonel Henry Ludington, was a farmer and miller in Patterson, NY before and after the war. He was also a member of the New York Assembly in the 1770s and 1780s, member of the revolutionary Committee of Safety, and a justice of the peace. When Governor William Tryon appointed Father a militia captain, Father resigned his commission and instead was commissioned a militia colonel by two New York provincial congresses in 1776. He henceforth commanded the 7th Regiment of the Dutchess County Militia, which consisted of local male volunteers during the Revolutionary War. After demonstrating his military capabilities, Father became an aide to General George Washington himself!
My siblings are Rebecca (1763-1777), Mary (1765), Archibald (1767), Henry (1769-1770), Derick (1771-1772), Tertullus (1773-1821), Abigail (1776-1816), Anna (1778-1833), Frederick (1782), Sophia (1784), and Lewis (1786).
My brother Frederick's son, Harrison, was elected Mayor of Milwaukee and Governor of Wisconsin in the 1870s.
My siblings are Rebecca (1763-1777), Mary (1765), Archibald (1767), Henry (1769-1770), Derick (1771-1772), Tertullus (1773-1821), Abigail (1776-1816), Anna (1778-1833), Frederick (1782), Sophia (1784), and Lewis (1786).
My brother Frederick's son, Harrison, was elected Mayor of Milwaukee and Governor of Wisconsin in the 1870s.