THREE: ACROSS THE JERSEYS WITH THE PATRIOTS

XXIV

THE FRANKLIN PALACE, PERTH AMBOY,
NEW JERSEY

THE HOME OF THE SON OF WHOM BENJAMIN FRANKLIN
VAINLY TRIED TO MAKE A PATRIOT

There was a time when Benjamin Franklin was proud of his son William, and was glad to have his name coupled with that of the young man.

The first year of the father's service in the Pennsylvania Assembly William was appointed clerk of that body; this fact is mentioned with pride in the Autobiography.

When General Braddock was sent from England to America to oppose the union of the Colonies for defence, "lest they should thereby grow too military and feel their own strength," Franklin was sent by the Assembly to Fredericktown, Maryland, to confer with the General. "My son accompanied me on the journey," the Autobiography says.

At Braddock's request Franklin advertised at Lancaster, Pennsylvania, for one hundred and fifty wagons for the proposed expedition into the interior, and at the close of the advertisement was the note, "My son, William Franklin, is empowered to enter into like contracts with any person in Cumberland County."

Later, when the father was asked to secure financial assistance for certain subalterns in Braddock's company, he wrote to the Assembly, recommending that a present of necessaries and refreshments be sent to those officers. "My son, who had some experience of camp life and of its wants, drew up a list for me which I enclos'd in my letter," the father wrote.

When, during the French and Indian War, the Governor of Pennsylvania asked Franklin to take charge of "our Northwestern frontier which was infested by the enemy, and provide for the defence of the inhabitants by raising troops and building a line of forts," he went to the front with five hundred and sixty men. In the Autobiography he wrote, "My son, who had in the preceding war, been an officer in the army rais'd against Canada, was my aid-de-camp, and of great use to me."

And in 1771, when beginning his Autobiography, Franklin addressed it "Dear Son," and spoke of the trip the two had taken together to England, to make "enquiries among the remains of my relations." Then he added:

"Imagining it may be equally agreeable to you to know the circumstances of my life, many of which you are yet unacquainted with, and expecting the enjoyment of a week's uninterrupted leisure in my present country retirement, I sit down to write them for you."

Six years before the beginning of the Autobiography, Franklin, in company with six other Philadelphians, entered on a land speculation in Nova Scotia. Together they bought two hundred thousand acres of land. There they intended to found a colony. Two shiploads of emigrants were taken to Monkton, the site of the proposed colony, but most of the men settled on other land, finding that this could be had practically for nothing. Franklin's will later provided that William be given an interest in the Nova Scotia property, and he explained the gift by saying that this was "the only part of his estate remaining under the sovereignty of the king of Great Britain."

What was the explanation of the father's changed attitude to his son that led him to make his bequest in such unpleasant terms?

After William Franklin's return from the frontier, he was appointed governor-in-chief of the Province of New Jersey. A mansion was built for him in Perth Amboy by the Lord Proprietor. Its construction required a somewhat extended time, for it was a grand place; no wonder it was called "The Palace." But in 1774 the Governor took possession.

Of course this was not the reason for the breach with his father. Again Benjamin Franklin was proud of his son, and of the lavish entertainments he made for his associates.

But the father began to shake his head when his son became a favorite of the Tories in Perth Amboy who had looked askance on his appointment, the year before. He was told that William would himself remain a loyalist when the break came with Great Britain, and he was compelled to believe that there was serious ground for the charge. He decided, however, to make a supreme effort to rouse the Governor to the call of patriotism. Accordingly, in 1775, he sought the Palace and pleaded with William to forsake his Tory associates, turn his back on the king who had turned his back on the Colonies, and become a steadfast defender of his country's rights.

What a subject that interview would make for an artist! Opposed to the luxury-loving governor, in the house furnished for his satisfaction by the Tories with whom he had chosen to ally himself, was the sturdy figure of the sage of Pennsylvania, who was ready to lay down his life in the defence of his country.

It must have been a stirring interview. But it was fruitless. Benjamin Franklin went back to Philadelphia a disappointed man. His feelings were expressed in the letter in which he said, "I am deserted by my only son."

Within a year Governor Franklin was practically a prisoner in the Palace, in consequence of the discovery that he was plotting against the Colonies. When he persisted in courses that troubled Congress, he was arrested and taken to Burlington. Mrs. Franklin fled to New York, and the Palace was at the mercy of the British. On several occasions the house was used as headquarters by British generals, and soldiers made their encampment on the grounds.

Though the interior of the Palace was destroyed by fire soon after the war, the house was restored, and it still looks much as it did when Franklin, the patriot, stood within its walls. For years it was used as a hotel, and later as a private residence. In 1883 it was made a Home for aged ministers of the Presbyterian Church. To-day it is again used as a hotel.

XXV

THE CHURCH AT CALDWELL, NEW JERSEY

WITH GLIMPSES OF THE FIGHTING CHAPLAIN CALDWELL

The trying days of the Revolution would not seem to be a favorable time for the beginning of a church, especially in the section of New Jersey which was so often overrun by the soldiers of both armies. Yet it was at this critical time that many of the people of Horseneck (now Caldwell), New Jersey, near Montclair, were looking forward to the organization of a church and the building of a house of worship. Timbers were in fact drawn and framed for church purposes, but the war interfered with the completion of the project.

The donation, in 1779, of ninety acres of wild land in the centre of the settlement gave the prospective congregation new heart. On this land a parsonage was begun in 1782. The upper portion of this house, unplastered and unceiled, was used for church purposes until 1796.

The final organization of the church dates from December 3, 1784, when forty persons signed their names to the following curious agreement:

"We Whose Names are Under writen Living at the Place called Horse Neck, Being this Day to be Formed or Embodied as a Church of Jesus Christ, Do Solemnly Declare that as we do desire to be founded Only on the Rock Christ Jesus, So we would not wish to Build on this foundation, Wood Hay and Stubble, but Gold and Silver and Precious Stones; and as it is our profested Sentiments that a Visible Church of Christ, Consists of Visible Believers with their Children, so no Adult Persons ought to be Admitted as members but such as Credibly profess True Faith in Jesus Christ, Love, Obedience, and Subjection to Him, Holding the Fundamental Doctrines of the Gospel, and who will Solemnly Enter into Covenant to Walk Worthy such an Holy Profession as we do this Day."

The last survivor of those who signed this document was General William Gould, who died February 12, 1847, in his ninetieth year. During the Revolution he saw much active service, especially at the battles of Springfield and Monmouth and the campaigns that preceded and followed these conflicts.

But the connection of the church with the Revolution came rather through Rev. James Caldwell, who was pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Elizabeth Town. During the early years of the struggling congregation he was their adviser and helper, and after his death the name of the church was changed to Caldwell, in his honor.

Mr. Caldwell—who had among his parishioners in Elizabeth Town William Livingston, the Governor of the State, Elias Boudinot, Commissary General of Prisons and President of Congress, Abraham Clark, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, as well as more than forty commissioned officers of the Continental Army—was one of the famous chaplains of the war, having been chosen in 1776 chaplain of the regiment largely made up of his own members. Later he was Assistant Commissary General.

The British called him the "Fighting Chaplain," and he was cordially hated because of his zeal for the cause of the patriots. His life was always in danger, and when he was able to spend a Sunday with his congregation he would preach with his cavalry pistols on the pulpit, while sentinels were stationed at the doors to give warning.

The enmity of the British led to the burning of the chaplain's church, and the murder, a few months later, of Mrs. Caldwell. While she was sitting in a rear room at the house at Connecticutt Farms, where she had been sent for safety, surrounded by her children, a soldier thrust his musket through the window and fired at her.

Mr. Caldwell survived the war, in spite of the efforts of the British to capture him, only to be murdered on November 24, 1781, by a Continental soldier who was thought to have been bribed by those whose enmity the chaplain had earned during the conflict.

The Elizabeth Town congregation succeeded in rebuilding their church five years after it was destroyed, but the delayed Caldwell church building was not ready for its occupants until 1795. The timbers for the church were hewed in the forest where the trees were felled and were drawn by oxen to the site selected. Forty men worked several days to raise the frame. Lime was made from sea shells, which were hauled from Bergen, and then burned in a kiln erected near the church lot.

The interior of the building was plain. The pulpit, "about the size of a hogshead," was built on a single pillar, against the wall; above this was a sounding board. The windows had neither blinds nor curtains, and nothing was painted but the pulpit. The backs of the pews were exactly perpendicular. Provision was made regularly for the purchase of sand to freshen the floors. This building was burned in 1872.

The first pastor, Rev. Stephen Grover, received as salary one hundred and fifty dollars a year, though this sum was to be increased ten dollars a year until the total was two hundred and fifty dollars. Of course the use of the parsonage and land was given in addition.

Mr. Grover was pastor for forty-six years, and his successor was Rev. Richard F. Cleveland, to whose son, born in the old manse at Caldwell,—which was purchased in 1912 by the Grover Cleveland Birthplace Memorial Association,—was given the name Stephen Grover, in memory of the first pastor of the church. Forty-seven years later Stephen Grover Cleveland became President of the United States.

For the first ten months of its history the Caldwell church was Presbyterian, then it became Congregational, but since 1831 it has been a Presbyterian body.

XXVI

OLD TENNENT CHURCH, FREEHOLD,
NEW JERSEY

ON THE BATTLE FIELD OF MONMOUTH

One of the bas-reliefs on the monument commemorating the decisive Battle of Monmouth, which has been called the turning-point of the War for Independence, represents the famous Molly Pitcher as she took the place at the gun of her disabled husband. In the background of the relief is the roof and steeple of Old Tennent, the church near which the battle raged all day long.

Tennent Presbyterian Church was organized about 1692. The first building was probably built of logs. The second structure, more ambitious, was planned in 1730. Twenty years later a third structure was demanded by the growing congregation. This building, which was twenty-seven years old at the time of the battle of Monmouth, is still standing.

The plan called for a building sixty feet long and forty feet wide. The present pastor of the church, Rev. Frank R. Symmes, in his story of the church, says of the building:

"The sides were sheathed with long cedar shingles, and fastened with nails patiently wrought out on an anvil, and the interior was finished with beaded and panelled Jersey pine.... The pulpit ... is placed on the north side of the room, against the wall, with narrow stairs leading up to it, closed in with a door. The Bible desk is nine feet above the audience floor, with a great sounding board overhanging the whole.... Below the main pulpit a second desk or sub-pulpit is built, where the precentor used to stand.... The galleries extend along three sides of the room."

Among the early pastors of the church were Rev. John Tennent and his brother, Rev. William Tennent, members of a family famous in the early history of the Presbyterian Church in New Jersey. In consequence of their forty-seven years of service the church became known as "Old Tennent."

The story of the marriage of Rev. William Tennent is a tradition in the congregation. In spite of his salary of about one hundred pounds, and the use of the parsonage farm, he became financially embarrassed. A friend from New York who visited him when he was thirty-three years old told him he ought to marry and suggested a widow of his acquaintance. Mr. Tennent agreed to the proposition that he go to New York in company with his friend, and see if matters could not be arranged. So, before noon next day, he was introduced to Mrs. Noble. "He was much pleased with her appearance," the story goes on, "and when left alone with her, abruptly told her that he supposed her brother had informed her of his errand; that neither his time nor his inclination would suffer him to use much ceremony, but that if she approved ... he would return on Monday, be married, and immediately take her home." Thus in one week she found herself mistress of his house. She proved a most invaluable treasure to him.

The year after the death of Mr. Tennent, on Sunday, June 28, 1778, General Washington, at the head of about six thousand men, hurried by Old Tennent. That morning he had been at Englishtown where the sound of cannon told him his advance forces under General Lee were battling with the British. Washington was about one hundred yards beyond the church door when he met the first straggler who told him that Lee had retreated before the British. A little further on the Commander-in-chief met Lee. After rebuking him sharply he hastened forward, and rallied the retreating Continentals. The renewed battle continued until evening when the British were driven back to a defensive position. During the night they retired, to the surprise of Washington, who hoped to renew the battle in the morning. The victory snatched from defeat in this, one of the most stubbornly contested and longest battles of the war, gave new courage to the Colonies.

During the battle wounded soldiers were carried to the church, where members of the congregation tended them, in what could not have been a very secure refuge, since musket balls pierced the walls. An exhausted American soldier, while trying to make his way to the building, sat for rest on the grave of Sarah Mattison. While he was there a cannon ball wounded him and broke off a piece of the headstone. Watchers carried him into the church where he was laid on one of the pews. The stains of blood are still to be seen on the board seat, while the marks of his hands were visible on the book-rest of the pew until the wood was grained.

A tablet has been placed on the front wall of the church with this message:

1778-1901
In Grateful Remembrance
of Patriots Who, on Sabbath June 28, 1778,
Gained the Victory Which Was the Turning Point
Of the War for Independence,
And to Mark a Memorable Spot on
The Battlefield of Monmouth,
This Tablet is placed by Monmouth Chapter
Daughters of the American Revolution
September 26, 1901.

Not far from the church is the monument commemorating the battle itself. Spirited bronze reliefs on this tell the story of some of the picturesque incidents of the memorable struggle.

XXVII

THE FORD MANSION, MORRISTOWN,
NEW JERSEY

FROM WHICH ALEXANDER HAMILTON WENT COURTING

New Jersey, which was the scene of so many battles during the Revolution, was also the scene of what was perhaps Washington's pleasantest winter during the war. From December, 1799, to June, 1780, the Commander-in-chief lived at the Ford Mansion with his "family," as he was fond of calling Mrs. Washington and his aides.

During these months he was busily engaged in making plans for the later successful conduct of the war, yet he took time for those social relaxations which were a needed relief from the anxious strain of the long conflict.

Among those who helped to make that winter memorable were Surgeon General John Cochrane and Mrs. Cochrane, who occupied the Campfield House close by, and General and Mrs. Philip Schuyler, who had come down from Albany for a season at headquarters. Mrs. Schuyler and Mrs. Cochrane were sisters. Elizabeth Schuyler had come in advance of her parents, and for a time was a guest at the Campfield House.

Visitors from France were arriving from time to time, bringing word of the alliance that was to mean so much to the Colonies, and conferring as to methods of cooperation.

In one wing of the Ford Mansion lived Mrs. Ford and her son Timothy. In the rooms set apart for the use of Washington's family eighteen people were crowded. Two of these were Alexander Hamilton and Tench Tilghman, both members of the General's staff.

Though Mrs. Washington delighted to put on style, on occasion, she could also be plain and simple. There had been times during the war when she was not ashamed to drive to headquarters in a coach and four. But sometimes at Morristown she was in a different mood—as, for instance, one day when a number of the ladies of the neighborhood, dressed in their best, called to pay their respects to her. To their surprise they found her sitting in a speckled apron, knitting stockings. If they were ill at ease at first, their state of mind can be imagined when their hostess began to talk to them of the need of care in their expenditures for their country's sake. After telling them of a dress she had made out of the carefully unravelled upholstery of a set of chairs, she completed their consternation by saying:

"American ladies should be patterns of industry to their countrywomen, because the separation from the mother-country will dry up the source whence many of our comforts have been derived. We must become independent by our determination to do without what we cannot make ourselves. While our husbands and brothers are examples of patriotism, we must be examples of thrift and economy."

The coming of Elizabeth Schuyler to the Campfield House was the signal for a spirited contest for her favor between two of Washington's aides. Both Hamilton and Tilghman had met her at her father's house in Albany, and both called on her. But Hamilton soon distanced his comrade in the race for her favor. It was not long until everybody was watching developments. Both of the young people were favorites. It is related that even a young soldier on sentry duty late one night was persuaded to a breach of military rules by his interest in Hamilton's courtship. That night the lover was on his way home after spending an evening with his Betsey. Evidently the young man had been thinking of anything but the countersign, for when he was halted and asked to give the countersign words he cudgelled his brain in vain. Then he whispered to the sentry, "Tell me!" And the sentry did tell. Whereupon Hamilton drew himself up before the soldier, gravely gave the countersign, and passed on to his quarters.

There was no time for long courtship in those days of quick movements in military circles. So, before long, Hamilton was writing to Elizabeth Schuyler such cheering letters as the following:

"I would not have you imagine, Miss, that I write you so often to gratify your wishes or please your vanity, but merely to indulge myself, and to comply with that restless property of my mind which will not be happy unless I am doing something, in which you are concerned. This may seem a very idle disposition in a philosopher and a soldier; but I can plead illustrious examples in my justification. Achilles liked to have sacrificed Greece and his glory for a female captive; and Anthony lost the world for a woman. I am very sorry times are so changed as to oblige me to go to antiquity for my apology, but I confess to the disgrace of the present that I have not been able to find as many who are as far gone as myself in their laudable zeal of the fair sex. I suspect, however, that if others knew the charms of my sweetheart as well as I do, I should have a great number of competitors. I wish I could give you an idea of her. You have no conception of how sweet a girl she is. It is only in my heart that her image is truly drawn. She has a comely form, and a mind still more lovely; she is all goodness, the gentlest, the dearest, the tenderest of her sex. Oh, Betsey, how I love her!"

Who could withstand such a lover? Elizabeth Schuyler did not, and her father commended her judgment. For he wrote to Hamilton:

"You cannot, my dear sir, be more happy at the connexion you have made with my family than I am. Until the child of a parent has made a judicious choice, his heart is in critical anxiety; but this anxiety was removed the moment I discovered on whom she had placed her affection. I am pleased with every instance of delicacy in those who are dear to me; and I think I read your soul on that occasion you mention. I shall therefore only entreat you to consider me as one who wishes in every way to promote your happiness, and I shall."

The young people were married at the Schuyler homestead in Albany on December 14, 1780.

To-day the Ford Mansion where Hamilton dreamed of a conquest in which the British had no part is owned by the Washington Association of New Jersey, and is open to visitors. The Campfield House is to be found on a side street; it has been moved from its original site.

XXVIII

NASSAU HALL, PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY

WHERE THE CONGRESS OF 1783 MET FOR FIVE MONTHS

Where the College of New Jersey, as Princeton University was officially known until 1896, erected its first building at Princeton, the far-sighted trustees arranged what was long ago the largest stone structure in the Colonies. The records of early travellers on the road between Philadelphia and New York tell of their amazement at the wonderful building.

In 1756 the college abandoned its rooms in the First Presbyterian Church of Newark, New Jersey, and occupied the ambitious quarters in Princeton, which had cost about £2,900.

Originally the halls extended from end to end of Nassau Hall, a distance of one hundred and seventy-five feet. These long, brick-paved halls afforded students inclined to mischief wonderful opportunity to make life miserable for the tutors who were charged with their oversight. "Rolling heated cannon balls, to tempt zealous but unwary tutors, was a perennial joy," writes Varnum Lansing Collins, in his book, "Princeton." Then he adds the statement that at a later epoch there were wild scenes, "when a jackass or a calf was dragged rebelliously up the narrow iron staircase, to be pitted in frenzied races with the model locomotive purloined from the college museum."

There was no provision for lighting the long halls, so the rollicking students were accustomed to fix candles to the walls with handfuls of mud. When a tutor was heard approaching, the candles would be blown out and he would be foiled in his attempt to identify the offenders. Sometimes barricades of cordwood were built hastily on the stairs or across the entrance to one of the halls.

In vain the authorities tried to correct these abuses by the passage of strict regulations. "No jumping or hollowing or any boisterous Noise shall be suffered, nor walking in the gallery in the time of Study," was a regulation which could be made known far more easily than it could be enforced. Lest there be breaches of decorum inside the rooms, tutors were directed to make at least three trips a day to the quarters of the students, to see that they were "diligent at the proper Business." They were to announce their coming to a room "by a stamp, which signal no scholar shall imitate on penalty of five shillings." Should the occupant of the room refuse to open the door, the tutor had authority to break in. At a later date, students in Nassau Hall liked to have double doors to their rooms, so that the obnoxious tutor might be hindered in his efforts to force an entrance, long enough to give them opportunity to hide all evidence of wrongdoing.

In 1760 a code of "orders and customs" was issued by the authority of President Aaron Burr. One of the most astounding directions in this code was that "Every Freshman sent on an errand shall go and do it faithfully and make quick return." Other rules, as indicated in Mr. Collins' book, concerned deportment, and demanded constant deference to superiors. "Students are to keep their hats off 'about ten rods to the President and about five to the tutors;' they must 'rise up and make obeisance' when the President enters or leaves the prayer hall, and when he mounts into the pulpit on Sundays. When walking with a superior, an inferior 'shall give him the highest place.' When first coming into the presence of a superior, or speaking to him, inferiors 'shall respect by pulling their Hats;' if overtaking or meeting a superior on the stairs, he 'shall stop, giving him the banister side;' when entering a superior's, 'or even an equal's' room, they must knock; if called or spoken to by a superior, they must 'give a direct, pertinent answer concluding with sir;' they are to treat strangers and townspeople 'with all proper complaisance and good manners;' and they are forbidden to address any one by a nickname."

Evidently rules like these helped to make good patriots, for Princeton students were among the most sturdy adherents of the Colonists' cause. In September, 1770, the entire graduating class wore American cloth, as a protest against Great Britain's unjust taxation measures.

In January, 1774, the students broke into the college storeroom and carried the winter's supply of tea to a bonfire in front of Nassau Hall. While the tea burned the college bell tolled and the students—in the words written home to a parent by one of them—made "many spirited resolves."

The spirited students were jubilant on the evening of July 9, 1776, when the news of the Declaration of Independence was read in Princeton. Nassau Hall was illuminated and the whole town rejoiced that President Witherspoon, as a member of the Continental Congress, had been a signer of the document.

In November, 1776, the students who had not enlisted in the army were sent from the town just in time to escape the British, who took possession of the building and used it as barracks and hospital. Early in the morning of January 3, 1777, the British held the building. After the battle Washington's troops took possession, but abandoned it almost at once. At evening the British were once more in control. Soon they hurried on to New Brunswick. The next occupants were the soldiers of General Putnam, who found room here for a hospital, a barracks, and a military prison. They found that during the battle of Princeton a round shot had struck the portrait of George II in the prayer hall.

After the British left Princeton College classes were continued in the President's house, and it was 1782 before a serious attempt was made to reoccupy Nassau Hall, which was found to be "mostly bare partition walls and heaps of fallen plaster."

A year later, when temporary repairs had been made, the Continental Congress, which had been besieged by a company of troops who were insistent in their demands for overdue pay, made its way to Princeton. From June to November the sessions were held in Nassau Hall. Commencement day came during the sessions and Congress sat, with Washington, on the platform. On that occasion Washington gave fifty pounds to the college. This sum was paid to Charles Wilson Peale for a portrait of the donor, which was placed in the frame from which the portrait of George II had been shot more than seven years before.

Congress was still in session at Nassau Hall when, in October, the first authentic news came of the signing of the Definitive Treaty of Peace with Great Britain.

A few weeks later the college was left to its sedate ways. Never since then has it witnessed such stirring events. But the experiences of the years from 1776 to 1784 had made Nassau Hall one of the nation's picturesque monuments.

XXIX

THREE HISTORIC HOUSES AT PRINCETON,
NEW JERSEY

MORVEN, THE MERCER HOUSE, AND WASHINGTON'S
ROCKY HILL HEADQUARTERS

"Sollemnity & Distress appeared almost on every countenance, several students that had come 5 & 600 miles & just got letters in college were now obliged under every disadvantage to retire with their effects, or leave them behind, which several through the impossibility of getting a carriage at so Confused a time were glad to do, & lose them all, as all hopes of continuing longer in peace at Nassau were now taken away I began to look out for some place where I might pursue my studies & as Mr. G. Johnson had spoke to me to teach his son I accordingly went there & agreed to stay with him till spring."

So wrote John Clark, one of the students at the College of New Jersey, who, in 1776, was dismayed by the threatened approach of Cornwallis and his army. He was able to remove his effects in ample time, for he had only a "Trunk & Desk." But there were others in the peaceful village who were not so fortunate. One of them was Mrs. Richard Stockton of Morven, a beautiful home still standing not far from the college campus. The activity of her husband in the interests of the Colonies had angered the British, and they were not slow to take advantage of the absence of the family by pillaging the mansion and destroying many things it contained. Fortunately Mrs. Stockton, before leaving hurriedly for Freehold, had buried the family silver, and this was not discovered, though Cornwallis and his officers occupied the house as headquarters.

Probably, while they were here, they talked gleefully of what they called the collapse of the war. They felt so sure that the war was over that Cornwallis was already planning to return to England.

Then came the surprise at Trenton, when nearly a thousand Hessians of a total force of twelve hundred were captured.

Immediately Cornwallis, who had returned to New York, hastened back to Princeton, where he left three regiments and a company of cavalry. Then he hurried on to Trenton. On the way he was harassed by Washington's outposts, and the main force of the General delayed his entrance into the town until nightfall. He expected to renew the attack next morning, but during the night Washington stole away toward Princeton. Within two miles of Princeton the force of General Mercer encountered the reserve troops of Cornwallis, which were on their way to their commander's assistance. Washington, hearing the sound of the conflict that followed, hastened to the field in time to rally the forces of Mercer, who had been wounded. The day was saved, but General Mercer was lost; he died in the farmhouse on the battle field to which he was carried. To this day visitors are shown the stain made on the floor by the blood of the dying man. Those who express doubt as to the stain are not welcomed.

Alfred Noyes has written of this conflict which meant more to the struggling Colonies than some historians have indicated. The reference in the first line of the second stanza is to the tigers that crouch at the entrance of Nassau Hall in Princeton:

After the battle came happier days for Princeton. Morven was restored, and Washington was frequently an honored guest within the walls, as have been many of his successors in the White House.

More than six years after the memorable battle of Princeton, another house in the neighborhood received him. When Congress convened in Nassau Hall, it rented for Washington the Rocky Hill House, five miles from the village, which was occupied by John Berrian, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of New Jersey. This house, which was suitably furnished for the General, was the last headquarters of the Revolution.

While at the Berrian house, Washington sat to William Dunlap for his portrait. In his "Arts of Design" the artist, who at the time of which he wrote was eighteen years old, said:

"My visits are now frequent to headquarters. The only military in the neighborhood were the general's suite and a corporal's guard whose tents were on the green before the Berrian House, and the captain's marquee nearly in front. The soldiers were New England yeomen's sons, none older than twenty.... I was quite at home in every respect at headquarters; to breakfast and dine day after day with the general and Mrs. Washington and members of Congress."

It was Washington's custom to ride to Princeton, mounted on a small roan horse. The saddle was "old and crooked, with a short deep blue saddle cloth flowered, with buff cloth at the edge, buckskin seat, the cloth most below the skirt of the saddle at the side, double skirts, crupper, surcingle, and breast straps, double belted steel bridle and plated stirrup."

The real closing scene in the Revolution was Washington's farewell address to the army, which he wrote in the southwest room of the second story. On Sunday, November 2, from the second-story balcony, he read this to the soldiers. Two days later orders of discharge were issued to most of them.

Fortunately the Berrian House has become the property of "The Washington Headquarters Association of Rocky Hill," and is open to the patriotic pilgrim.

XXX

THE SPRINGFIELD MEETING HOUSE,
NEW JERSEY

WHOSE PSALM BOOKS FURNISHED WADDING FOR THE
CONTINENTAL GUNS

"One pint of spring water when demanded on the premises" was the strange payment stipulated by the donor of one hundred acres of land given in 1751 to the trustees of the First Presbyterian Church in Springfield, New Jersey, to be for the use of the minister of the parish. The church records do not state that the rent has been paid regularly, but they do state that the woodland enabled them for many years to furnish the free firewood that was a part of the support promised to every one of the early pastors.

The first building occupied by the church was completed in 1746. Fifteen years later the second building was first occupied, and it continued to be the centre of the community's religious life until November, 1778, when it was needed for military stores. The church was gladly given up to the army, and services were held in the garret of the parsonage.

The British under General Knyphausen, determined to drive Washington and his men from the New Jersey hills and to destroy his supplies, marched from Elizabeth Town on June 23, 1780. There were five thousand men, with fifteen or twenty pieces of artillery, in the expedition. A few miles away, near Springfield, was a small company of patriots, poorly equipped but ready to die in the defence of their country.

Warning of the approach of the enemy was given to the Continentals by the firing of the eighteen-pounder signal gun on Prospect Hill; twelve Continentals stationed at the Cross Roads, after firing on the enemy, had hurried to the hill. After firing the gun they lighted the tar barrel on the signal pole.

Instantly the members of the militia dropped their scythes, seized their muskets, and hurried to quarters. "There were no feathers in their caps, no gilt buttons on their home-spun coats, nor flashing bayonets on their old fowling pieces," the pastor of Springfield church said in 1880, on the one hundredth anniversary of the skirmish that followed, "but there was in their hearts the resolute purpose to defend their homes and their liberty at the price of their lives."

The sturdy farmers joined forces with the regular soldiers. For a time the battle was fierce. The enemy were soon compelled to retreat, but not before they had burned the village, including the church. Chaplain James Caldwell was in the hottest of the fight. "Seeing the fire of one of the companies slacking for want of wadding, he galloped to the Presbyterian meeting house nearby, and rushing in, ran from pew to pew, filling his arms with hymn books," wrote Headley, in "Chaplains and Clergy of the Revolution." "Hastening back with them into the battle, he scattered them about in every direction, saying as he pitched one here and another there, 'Now put Watts into them, boys.' With a laugh and a cheer they pulled out the leaves, and ramming home the charge did give the British Watts with a will."

The story has been attractively told by Bret Harte:

"... Stay one moment; you've heard

Of Caldwell, the parson, who once preached the Word

Down at Springfield? What, no? Come—that's bad; why, he had

All the Jerseys aflame! And they gave him the name

Of the 'rebel high priest.' He stuck in their gorge,

For he loved the Lord God—and he hated King George!