Knyphausen marauds the Jerseys.—Sacking of Connecticut Farms.—Murder
of Mrs. Caldwell.—Arrival and Movements of Sir Henry
Clinton.—Springfield burnt.—The Jerseys evacuated.
A handbill published by the British authorities in New York, reached
Washington’s camp on the 1st of June, and made known the surrender of
Charleston. A person from Amboy reported, moreover, that on the 30th of
May he had seen one hundred sail of vessels enter Sandy Hook. These
might bring Sir Henry Clinton with the whole or part of his force. In
that case, flushed with his recent success, he might proceed immediately
up the Hudson, and make an attempt upon West Point, in the present
distressed condition of the garrison. So thinking, Washington wrote to
General Howe, who commanded that important post, to put him on his
guard, and took measures to have him furnished with supplies.
The report concerning the fleet proved to be erroneous, but on the 6th
of June came a new alarm. The enemy, it was said, were actually landing
in force at Elizabethtown Point, to carry fire and sword into the
Jerseys!
It was even so. Knyphausen, through spies and emissaries, had received
exaggerated accounts of the recent outbreak in Washington’s camp, and of
the general discontent among the people of New Jersey; and was persuaded
that a sudden show of military protection, following up the news of the
capture of Charleston, would produce a general desertion among
Washington’s troops, and rally back the inhabitants of the Jerseys to
their allegiance to the crown.
In this belief he projected a descent into the Jerseys with about five
thousand men, and some light artillery, who were to cross in divisions
in the night of the 5th of June from Staten Island to Elizabethtown
Point.
The first division, led by Brigadier-general Sterling, actually landed
before dawn of the 6th, and advanced as silently as possible. The heavy
and measured tramp of the troops, however, caught the ear of an American
sentinel stationed at a fork where the roads from the old and new point
joined. He challenged the dimly descried mass as it approached, and
receiving no answer, fired into it. That shot wounded General Sterling
in the thigh, and ultimately proved mortal. The wounded general was
carried back, and Knyphausen took his place.
This delayed the march until sunrise, and gave time for the troops of
the Jersey line, under Colonel Elias Dayton, stationed in Elizabethtown,
to assemble. They were too weak in numbers, however, to withstand the
enemy, but retreated in good order, skirmishing occasionally. The
invading force passed through the village; in the advance, a squadron of
dragoons of Simcoe’s regiment of Queen’s Rangers, with drawn swords and
glittering helmets, followed by British and Hessian infantry.[20]
Signal guns and signal fires were rousing the country. The militia and
yeomanry armed themselves with such weapons as were at hand, and
hastened to their alarm posts. The enemy took the old road, by what was
called Galloping Hill, toward the village of Connecticut Farms; fired
upon from behind walls and thickets by the hasty levies of the country.
At Connecticut Farms, the retreating troops under Dayton fell in with
the Jersey brigade, under General Maxwell, and, a few militia joining
them, the Americans were enabled to make some stand, and even to hold
the enemy in check. The latter, however, brought up several
field-pieces, and being reinforced by a second division which had
crossed from Staten Island some time after the first, compelled the
Americans again to retreat. Some of the enemy, exasperated at the
unexpected opposition they had met with throughout their march, and
pretending that the inhabitants of this village had fired upon them from
their windows, began to pillage and set fire to the houses. It so
happened that to this village the Reverend James Caldwell, “the rousing
gospel preacher,” had removed his family as to a place of safety, after
his church at Elizabethtown had been burnt down by the British in
January. On the present occasion he had retreated with the regiment to
which he was chaplain. His wife, however, remained at the parsonage with
her two youngest children, confiding in the protection of Providence,
and the humanity of the enemy.
When the sacking of the village took place, she retired with her
children into a back room of the house. Her infant of eight months was
in the arms of an attendant; she herself was seated on the side of a bed
holding a child of three years by the hand, and was engaged in prayer.
All was terror and confusion in the village; when suddenly a musket was
discharged in at the window. Two balls struck her in the breast, and she
fell dead on the floor. The parsonage and church were set on fire, and
it was with difficulty her body was rescued from the flames.
In the mean time Knyphausen was pressing on with his main force towards
Morristown. The booming of alarm guns had roused the country; every
valley was pouring out its yeomanry. Two thousand were said to be
already in arms below the mountains.
Within half a mile of Springfield, Knyphausen halted to reconnoiter.
That village, through which passes the road to Springfield, had been
made the American rallying-point. It stands at the foot of what are
called the Short Hills, on the west side of Rahway River, which runs in
front of it. On the bank of the river, General Maxwell’s Jersey brigade
and the militia of the neighborhood were drawn up to dispute the
passage; and on the Short Hills in the rear was Washington with the main
body of his forces, not mutinous and in confusion, but all in good
order, strongly posted, and ready for action.
Washington had arrived and taken his position that afternoon, prepared
to withstand an encounter, though not to seek one. All night his camp
fires lighted up the Short Hills, and he remained on the alert,
expecting to be assailed in the morning; but in the morning no enemy was
to be seen.
Knyphausen had experienced enough to convince him that he had been
completely misinformed as to the disposition of the Jersey people and of
the army. Disappointed as to the main objects of his enterprise, he had
retreated under cover of the night, to the place of his debarkation,
intending to recross to Staten Island immediately.
In the camp at the Short Hills was the Reverend James Caldwell, whose
home had been laid desolate. He was still ignorant of the event, but had
passed a night of great anxiety, and, procuring the protection of a
flag, hastened back in the morning to Connecticut Farms. He found the
village in ashes, and his wife a mangled corpse!
In the course of the day Washington received a letter from Colonel
Alexander Hamilton, who was reconnoitering in the neighborhood of
Elizabethtown Point. “I have seen the enemy,” writes he. “Those in view
I calculate at about three thousand. There may be, and probably are,
enough others out of sight. They have sent all their horses to the other
side except about fifty or sixty. Their baggage has also been sent
across, and their wounded. It is not ascertained that any of their
infantry have passed on the other side.... The present movement may be
calculated to draw us down and betray us into an action. They may have
desisted from their intention of passing till night, for fear of our
falling upon their rear.”
As Washington was ignorant of the misinformation which had beguiled
Knyphausen into this enterprise, the movements of that general, his
sudden advance, and as sudden retreat, were equally inexplicable. At one
time, he supposed his inroad to be a mere foraging incursion; then, as
Hamilton had suggested, a device to draw him down from his stronghold
into the plain, where the superiority of the British force would give
them the advantage.
Knyphausen, in fact, had been impeded in crossing his troops to Staten
Island, by the low tide and deep muddy shore, which rendered it
difficult to embark the cavalry; and by a destructive fire kept up by
militia posted along the river banks, and the adjacent woods. In the
mean while he had time to reflect on the ridicule that would await him
in New York, should his expedition prove fruitless, and end in what
might appear a precipitate flight. This produced indecision of mind, and
induced him to recall the troops which had already crossed, and which
were necessary, he said, to protect his rear.
For several days he lingered with his troops at Elizabethtown and the
Point beyond; obliging Washington to exercise unremitting vigilance for
the safety of the Jerseys and of the Hudson. It was a great satisfaction
to the latter to be joined by Major Henry Lee, who with his troop of
horse had hastened on from the vicinity of Philadelphia, where he had
recently been stationed.
In the mean time, the tragical fate of Mrs. Caldwell produced almost as
much excitement throughout the country as that which had been caused in
a preceding year, by the massacre of Miss McCrea. She was connected with
some of the first people of New Jersey; was winning in person and
character, and universally beloved. Knyphausen was vehemently assailed
in the American papers, as if responsible for this atrocious act. The
enemy, however, attributed her death to a random shot, discharged in a
time of confusion, or to the vengeance of a menial who had a deadly
pique against her husband; but the popular voice persisted in execrating
it as the willful and wanton act of a British soldier.
On the 17th of June the fleet from the South actually arrived in the bay
of New York, and Sir Henry Clinton landed his troops on Staten Island;
but almost immediately reëmbarked them, as if meditating an expedition
up the river.
Fearing for the safety of West Point, Washington set off on the 21st
June, with the main body of his troops, towards Pompton; while General
Greene, with Maxwell and Stark’s brigades, Lee’s dragoons and the
militia of the neighborhood, remained encamped on the Short Hills, to
cover the country and protect the stores at Morristown.
Washington’s movements were slow and wary unwilling to be far from
Greene until better informed of the designs of the enemy. At Rockaway
Bridge, about eleven miles beyond Morristown, he received word on the
23d, that the enemy were advancing from Elizabethtown against
Springfield. Supposing the military depot at Morristown to be their
ultimate object, he detached a brigade to the assistance of Greene, and
fell back five or six miles, so as to be in supporting distance of him.
The reëmbarkation of the troops at Staten Island had, in fact, been a
stratagem of Sir Henry Clinton to divert the attention of Washington,
and enable Knyphausen to carry out the enterprise which had hitherto
hung fire. No sooner did the latter ascertain that the American
commander-in-chief had moved off with his main force towards the
Highlands, than he sallied from Elizabethtown five thousand strong, with
a large body of cavalry, and fifteen or twenty pieces of artillery;
hoping not merely to destroy the public stores at Morristown, but to get
possession of those difficult hills and defiles, among which
Washington’s army had been so securely posted, and which constituted the
strength of that part of the country.
It was early on the morning of the 23d that Knyphausen pushed forward
toward Springfield. Besides the main road which passes directly through
the village toward Morristown, there is another, north of it, called the
Vauxhall road, crossing several small streams, the confluence of which
forms the Rahway. These two roads unite beyond the village in the
principal pass of the Short Hills. The enemy’s troops advanced rapidly
in two compact columns, the right one by the Vauxhall road, the other,
by the main or direct road. General Greene was stationed among the Short
Hills, about a mile above the town. His troops were distributed at
various posts, for there were many passes to guard.
At five o’clock in the morning, signal guns gave notice of the approach
of the enemy. The drums beat to arms throughout the camp. The troops
were hastily called in from their posts among the mountain passes, and
preparations were made to defend the village.
Major Lee, with his dragoons and a picket-guard, was posted on the
Vauxhall road, to check the right column of the enemy in its advance.
Colonel Dayton, with his regiment of New Jersey militia, was to check
the left column on the main road. Colonel Angel of Rhode Island, with
about two hundred picked men, and a piece of artillery, was to defend a
bridge over the Rahway, a little west of the town. Colonel Shreve,
stationed with his regiment at a second bridge over a branch of the
Rahway east of the town, was to cover, if necessary, the retreat of
Colonel Angel. Those parts of Maxwell and Stark’s brigades which were
not thus detached, were drawn up on high grounds in the rear of the
town, having the militia on their flanks.
There was some sharp fighting at a bridge on the Vauxhall road, where
Major Lee with his dragoons and picket-guard held the right column at
bay; a part of the column, however, forded the stream above the bridge,
gained a commanding position, and obliged Lee to retire.
The left column met with similar opposition from Dayton and his Jersey
regiment. None showed more ardor in the fight than Caldwell the
chaplain. The image of his murdered wife was before his eyes. Finding
the men in want of wadding, he galloped to the Presbyterian church and
brought thence a quantity of Watts’ psalm and hymn books, which he
distributed for the purpose among the soldiers. “Now,” cried he, “put
Watts into them, boys!”
The severest fighting of the day was at the bridge over the Rahway. For
upwards of half an hour Colonel Angel defended it with his handful of
men against a vastly superior force. One fourth of his men were either
killed or disabled: the loss of the enemy was still more severe. Angel
was at length compelled to retire. He did so in good order, carrying off
his wounded, and making his way through the village to the bridge beyond
it. Here his retreat was bravely covered by Colonel Shreve, but he too
was obliged to give way before the overwhelming force of the enemy, and
join the brigades of Maxwell and Stark upon the hill.
General Greene, finding his front too much extended for his small force,
and that he was in danger of being outflanked on the left by the column
pressing forward on the Vauxhall road, took post with his main body on
the first range of hills, where the roads were brought near to a point,
and passed between him and the height occupied by Stark and Maxwell. He
then threw out a detachment which checked the further advance of the
right column of the enemy along the Vauxhall road, and secured that pass
through the Short Hills. Feeling himself now strongly posted, he awaited
with confidence the expected attempt of the enemy to gain the height. No
such attempt was made. The resistance already experienced, especially at
the bridge, and the sight of militia gathering from various points,
dampened the ardor of the hostile commander. He saw that, should he
persist in pushing for Morristown, he would have to fight his way
through a country abounding with difficult passes, every one of which
would be obstinately disputed; and that the enterprise, even if
successful, might cost too much, besides taking him too far from New
York, at a time when a French armament might be expected.
Before the brigade detached by Washington arrived at the scene of
action, therefore, the enemy had retreated. Previous to their retreat
they wreaked upon Springfield the same vengeance they had inflicted on
Connecticut Farms. The whole village, excepting four houses, was reduced
to ashes. Their second retreat was equally ignoble with their first.
They were pursued and harassed the whole way to Elizabethtown by light
scouting parties and by the militia and yeomanry of the country,
exasperated by the sight of the burning village. Lee, too, came upon
their rear-guard with his dragoons, captured a quantity of stores
abandoned by them in the hurry of retreat, and made prisoners of several
refugees.
It was sunset when the enemy reached Elizabethtown. During the night
they passed over to Staten Island by their bridge of boats. By six
o’clock in the morning all had crossed, and the bridge had been
removed—and the State of New Jersey, so long harassed by the
campaignings of either army, was finally evacuated by the enemy. It had
proved a school of war to the American troops. The incessant marchings
and counter-marchings; the rude encampments; the exposures to all kinds
of hardship and privation; the alarms; the stratagems; the rough
encounters and adventurous enterprises of which this had been the
theatre for the last three or four years, had rendered the patriot
soldier hardy, adroit, and long-suffering; had accustomed him to danger,
inured him to discipline, and brought him nearly on a level with the
European mercenary in the habitudes and usages of arms, while he had the
superior incitements of home, country, and independence. The ravaging
incursions of the enemy had exasperated the most peace-loving parts of
the country; made soldiers of the husbandmen, acquainted them with their
own powers, and taught them that the foe was vulnerable. The recent
ineffectual attempts of a veteran general to penetrate the fastnesses of
Morristown, though at the head of a veteran force, “which would once
have been deemed capable of sweeping the whole continent before it,” was
a lasting theme of triumph to the inhabitants; and it is still the
honest boast among the people of Morris County, that “the enemy never
were able to get a footing among our hills.” At the same time the
conflagration of villages, by which they sought to cover or revenge
their repeated failures, and their precipitate retreat, harassed and
insulted, by half-disciplined militia, and a crude, rustic levy, formed
an ignominious close to the British campaigns in the Jerseys.
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