“Listen, my children, and you shall hear

Of a lovely feminine Paul Revere

Who rode an equally famous ride

Through a different part of the countryside,

Where Sybil Ludington’s name recalls

A ride as daring as that of Paul’s” – Berton Bradley, 1940

I love stories of unexpected people doing unbelievable things that impact history. And in all of American history, there may not be a more unexpected, unbelievable story than that of one Sybil Ludington.

Never heard of her? You’re not alone.

We’ve all heard of the “Midnight Ride of Paul Revere,” where during the American Revolution on April 18, 1775 the silversmith rode his horse some 20 miles through the dead of the night to warn of the approaching British army.

Almost two years later to the day, on April 28, 1777, Colonel Henry Ludington, commander of the militia in Dutchess County, New York, received word of British troops burning the city of Danbury, Connecticut (some 40 miles away) and moving toward his home, which just happened to be the epicenter of collecting intelligence from patriot spies.

Arriving in the rain around 9 p.m., the man who had delivered this news had ridden quite a distance at a full gallop, and his horse was worn out. Col. Ludington understandably needed to stay close to his home — however, someone had to mobilize the local patriot soldiers to gather to defend the area.

But who?

Sybil was the oldest of 12 Ludington children, an accomplished rider who knew the area like the back of her hand. Every day after her chores, instead of spending time idly, she would ride the countryside. So, the colonel entrusted her — at just 16 years of age, half that of Revere —  to alert the local militiamen who were home on furlough.

Sybil saddled up her favorite horse, “Star,” aptly named because of the shape of the markings on his face, and began riding around 10 p.m.

Through the night and the rain, Sybil rode on narrow backroads and trails that were hard to travel and barely recognizable during the day, much less the muck of a wet spring night. But her extensive experience over them more than compensated for the elements working against her.

Her protection? A long stick, also used to knock on doors without having to take the time to dismount her horse, with most houses being right on the roads.

Further complicating matters, the countryside was known to harbor “Skinners,” a term used to describe bandits who had no allegiance to anything other than themselves, as well as numerous British loyalists.

But on Sybil rode, going farm to farm to alert those soldiers, calling out “The British are burning Danbury, muster at Ludington’s at daybreak!” Before her task was completed, she had ridden almost eight hours and an amazing distance of over 40 miles, contacting nearly 400 soldiers in the process.

Getting back to the farm as the sun was rising the next morning, the militia she had awakened on her ride had already gathered. Word soon arrived that the British had turned south toward Ridgefield, so Colonel Ludington and his troops marched the 17 miles there and took part in a battle considered a strategic American victory in helping turn the Redcoats back.

Word of Sybil’s feat spread quickly. French General Rochambeau sent her a personal note of thanks, and George Washington himself was reported to have found her and offered his thanks in person.

So why haven’t we heard more about this incredible story?

It seems as happens with too many events, Sybil Ludington’s amazing ride was simply lost along the way in the tidal wave of history. It was mentioned in an 1880 work on the history of New York City, but it would be 1907 before her story would truly surface when two of her grandchildren published the account of her ride found in Colonel Ludington’s personal journal:

“One who even now rides (the region) will find rugged and dangerous roads, with lonely stretches…but the child 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.”

Because it wasn’t mentioned in primary journals of the period, the legitimacy of Sybil Ludington’s ride is still debated in historical circles to this day. Some simply don’t believe something so significant could’ve just been forgotten.

But let’s not forget the fact that females were not viewed as equals during the time in question, and it is easy to see how the men writing the history of the day might’ve conveniently overlooked — if not altogether ignored — Sybil’s story in the interest of protecting the legacy of more “established” figures like Revere.

Regardless, Colonel Ludington’s journal and other mentions from the period seem to at least suggest the story is legitimate. A dramatic statue of Sybil riding Star with her stick in her hand was dedicated in 1961 (which became a symbol of the women’s rights movement in the ’60s), and she was featured on a postage stamp in 1975 to commemorate the national bicentennial.

As historian Paula Hunt wrote:

“In the end, Sybil Ludington has embodied the possibilities — courage, individuality, loyalty — that Americans of different genders, generations and political persuasions have considered to be the highest aspirations for themselves and for their country. The story of a lone, teenage girl riding for freedom, it seems, is simply too good not to be believed.”