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Note: Samuel DOWNING 6, born Nov 29 1761 Newburyport, Essex Co. MA This date preceeds his parent's marriage and his baptism and is questionable. He was baptised on 01 Dec 1764 Essex Co., Massachusetts and either kidnapped, ran away, or was apprenticed out as a small child and taken to work in a spoke factory in New Hampshire. When the Rev. War broke out, he tried to enlist but was judged too little & probably too young. I wonder if he lied about his age or wasn't exactly sure how old he was because he had never been allowed to attend school and was so young when he was separated from his parents. He persisted and eventually was allowed to join the army. So was he really born in 1761 or in 1764 and was just baptised later? Did he use the 1761 year on his pension because that was the birth year he gave when he enlisted?
He married his 1st cousin Eunice George daughter of Susanna DOWNING
Parents of 13 children(or more), only 2 still living when he died in Feb 18, 1867, the last living soldier of the Revolutionary War (New York Times, Feb 20, 1867) Buried at Edinburgh, NY.
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"Great Grandfather Downing had his 3rd set of teeth. They were double teeth all way around. After 105 yrs. his pension, the goverment doubled his pension every draw." (Edith Downing Fender - notes written on margin of the LIFE article cited below)
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Sam Downing was interviewed and photographed at the age of 102 for a book about surviving Revolutionary soldiers written by Elias Brewster Hillard in 1864 . Life Magazine published highlights and pictures May 31, 1948.entitled "Last Soldiers of the Revolution" Excerpts follow:
"Sam Downing .. lived in the first frame house in the town of Edinburg, in New York, which he had built himself 70 years before. To get to Edinburg in 1864 you took the railroad to Saratoga, rode a stage some 20 miles from Saratoga to Luzerne on the Hudson River and then made your way up the valley of the Sacandaga 25 miles more. ... The day before...."one of the hottest of the season, so much so that coming by stage from Saratoga, we could scarcely endure the journey' - Downing had walked 2 1/2 miles "over a very tedious road" to the shoemakers, got his boots tapped and walked home again."
The author found him out tending his bee hives at noon. and asked "What do you think he [General Washington] would say if he were here now?".[Civil War still being fought]
"Say!.... I don't know. But he'd be mad to see me sitting here. I tell 'em if they'll give me a horse I'll go as it is. If the rebels come here I shall sartingly take my gun. I can see best furtherest off"
"He remembered guarding wagons from Exeter to Springfield, and the fighting in the Mohawk Valley and General Benedict Arnold and General Horatio Gates."
"Arnold was our fighting general, and a bloody fellow he was. He didn't care for nothing; he'd ride right in. It was 'Come on, boys!' twasn't 'Go, boys!'
He was as brave a man as ever lived. He was dark-skinned, with black hair, of middling height. There wasn't any waste timber in him. He was a stern looking man, but kind to his soldiers. They didn't treat him right; he ought to have had Burgoyne's sword. But he ought to have been true."
He said his "father and his wife's father had been out in the French war. His grandson had fought in 'the present rebellion from the beginning.
Letter to the editor regarding Sam Downing (1761-1867), printed in LIFE magazine
July 5, 1948. Also included on the IBM Aptiva "The Face of LIFE" CD., Creative
Multimedia, Time Inc., 1994
Sir,
I was very much interested in your article about the "Last Soldiers of the Revolution" in the May 31 issue of LIFE. Samuel Downing's daughter Margaret married my great-grandfather, James Barker. My grandfather told me that Mr. P.T. Barnum had the four living veterans of the Revolution - James [.illegible.], James Cook [the May 31,1948 story called him Lemuel], William Hutchings and Samuel Downing - come to Philadelphia in 1865 to participate in a 4th of July parade. When Mr. Barnum's emissary came to grandfather Downings house to ask him if he would make the trip to Philadelphia he found the old gentleman up in a pear tree sawing off a dead limb.
A carriage was driven to the hotel door to take the four in the procession. Mr. Downing looked at the equipage and said to his host,"How far is it?" The answer was "6 miles" whereupon my vigorous ancestor remarked, "I'll walk it."
According to an old newspaper clipping he did walk it and received salvos of applause all along the route.
The final scene in Mr. Downings life combined comedy and tragedy. On his 106th birthday Nov. 30, 1867, all of his neighbors came to his house to greet him. During the evening, the host remembered that he had some very good hard cider in the cellar, which he thought would be appreciated. He immediately started down the steep cellar stairs to fetch it, caught his heel and fell the whole length of the flight. When the neighbors picked him up, he was dead. Merle T. Barker, Taunton, Mass.
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Will of Samuel Downing
https://familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:33S7-9YCZ-9HS?i=190&wc=Q7PD-SPN%3A213302501%2C214699301%3Fcc%3D1920234&cc=1920234
Written Jun 27, 1866 - probated July 9, 1867 Said to have died on Jun 27, 1866 age 104, and on Feb 18, 1867 and on his birthday in November 29 or 30. I don't think he knew his exact birthdate and James Madison Downing was senile and didn't remember what date he had died by the time the will was probated. Except for $100 to son George, the farm and all the property is willed to Melinda, James M's wife and their 4 youngest children. All the other heirs except the Barkers in Taunton, MA are residence unknown, (Though some lived not far away)
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Downing Samuel
Husb of Eunice Downing 1762 1867/02/18 105y 02m 18d Clarkville Cem. Downing Eunice
Wife of Samuel Downing 1766 1851/04/06 84y 07m 11d Clarkville Cem. -----------------------------------------------------------------------
"He was the last one of the Revolutionary Pensioners". Sylvester in "History of Saratoga County" says Samuel "fought in the Revolution. Early settler in the western part of Edinburg." In 1797 he worked on Providence roads district 22 which in 1801 became part of Edinburg. Per Sylvester he lived to the age of 103 years.(Note: 105 years on the stone !). On his 100th birthday he went to the woods and felled a tree to celebrate. Also supposedly he built the first frame house in the town in 1795. It was on the south side of King Road NW of town. Fred Farrington bought the farm after Downing.
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https://www.americanheritage.com/content/last-survivors-revolution
More excerpts from the book:
Samuel Downing lives in the town of Edinburgh, Saratoga County, New York. His age is one hundred and two years.
The house of Mr. Downing, built by himself, (was) the first framed house in the town of Edinburgh, seventy years ago.
Mr. Downing is altogether the most vigorous in body and mind of the survivors. Indeed, judging from his bearing and conversation, you would not take him to be over seventy years of age. His eye is indeed dim, but all his other faculties are unimpaired, and his natural force is not at all abated. Still he is strong, hearty, enthusiastic, cheery: the most sociable of men and the very best of company. Seated in the house, and my errand made known to him, he entered upon the story of his life, which I will give as nearly as possible in the old man`s own words.
"I was born" said he, "in the town of Newburyport, Mass., on the 30th of November, 1761. " Well, the war broke out. They was enlisting three years men and for-the-war men. I heard say that Hopkinton was the enlisting place. I waited till dinner time, when I thought nobody would see me, and then I started. It was eighteen miles, and I went it pretty quick. The recruiting officer, when I told him what I`d come for, said I was too small. I told him just what I`d done. Well,` said he, you stay here and I`ll give you a letter to Col. Fifield over in Charlestown and perhaps he`ll take you.` So I staid with him; and when uncle and aunt came home that night they had no Sam. The next day I went and carried the letter to Col. Fifield, and he accepted me. But he wasn`t quite ready to go: he had his haying to do; so I staid with him and helped him through it, and then I started for the war.
"The first duty I ever did was to guard wagons from Exeter to Springfield. We played the British a trick; I can remember what I said as well as can be. We all started off on a run, and as I couldn`t see anything, I said, I don`t see what the devil we`re running after or running away from; for I can`t see anything.` One of the officers behind me said, Run, you little dog, or I`ll spontoon you.` Well`, I answered, I guess I can run as fast as you can and as far.` Pretty soon I found they were going to surprise a British train. We captured it; and among the stores were some hogsheads of rum. So when we got back to camp that night the officers had a great time drinking and gambling: but none for the poor soldiers. Says one of the sergeants to me, We`ll have some of that rum.` It fell to my lot to be on sentry that night; so I couldn`t let em in at the door. But they waited till the officers got boozy; then they went in at the windows and drew a pailful, and brought it out and we filled our canteens, and then they went in and drew another. So we had some of the rum; all we wanted was to live with the officers, not any better.
Afterwards we were stationed in the Mohawk valley. Arnold was our fighting general, and a bloody fellow he was. He didn`t care for nothing; he`d ride right in. It was Come on, boys!` twasn`t Go, boys!` He was as brave a man as ever lived. He was darkskinned, with black hair, of middling height. There wasn`t any waste timber on him. He was a stern looking man, but kind to his soldiers. They didn`t treat him right; he ought to have had Burgoyne`s sword. But he ought to have been true. We had true men then; twasn`t as it is now. Everybody was true: the tories we`d killed or driven to Canada.
You don`t believe, then, in letting men stay at their homes and help the enemy?
Not by a grand sight! was his emphatic reply. The men that caught Andre were true. He wanted to get away, offered them everything. Washington hated to hang him; he cried, they said.
The student of American history will remember the important part which Arnold performed in the battle connected with the surrender of Burgoyne. Mr. Downing was engaged.
We heard, he said, Burgoyne was coming. The tories began to feel triumphant. One of them came in one morning and said to his wife, Ty (Ticonderoga) is taken, my dear.` But they soon changed their tune. The first day at Bemis Heights both claimed the victory. But by and by we got Burgoyne where we wanted him, and he gave up. He saw there was no use in fighting it out. There`s where I call em gentlemen . Bless your body, we had gentlemen to fight with in those days. When they was whipped they gave up. It isn`t so now.
"Gates was an old granny` looking fellow. When Burgoyne came up to surrender his sword, he said to Gates, Are you a general? You look more like a granny than you do like a general.` I be a granny,` said Gates, and I`ve delivered you of ten thousand men to-day.`
By and by they began to talk about going to take New York. There`s always policy, you know, in war. We made the British think we were coming to take the city. We drew up in line of battle: the British drew up over there (pointing with his hand). They looked very handsome. But Washington went south to Yorktown. LaFayette laid down the white sticks, and we threw up entrenchments by them. We were right opposite Washington`s headquarters. I saw him every day.
Was he as fine a looking man as he is reported to have been?
Oh! he exclaimed, lifting up both his hands and pausing, but you never got a smile out of him. He was a nice man. We loved him. They`d sell their lives for him. I asked, What do you think he would say if he was here now?
Say! exclaimed he, I don`t know, but he`d be mad to see me sitting here. I tell em if they`ll give me a horse I`ll go as it is. If the rebels come here, I shall sartingly take my gun. I can see best furtherest off.
How would Washington treat traitors if he caught them?
Hang em to the first tree! was his reply.
When peace was declared, said the old man, concluding his story of the war, we burnt thirteen candles in every hut, one for each State.
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