Historic Shrines of America Part 13

Commencement day came during the sessions and Congress sat, with Was.h.i.+ngton, on the platform. On that occasion Was.h.i.+ngton 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 Na.s.sau 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 Na.s.sau Hall one of the nation's picturesque monuments.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MORVEN, PRINCETON, N. J.

_Photo by R. H. Rose and Son, Princeton_ See page 134]

XXIX

THREE HISTORIC HOUSES AT PRINCETON, NEW JERSEY

MORVEN, THE MERCER HOUSE, AND WAs.h.i.+NGTON'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 Na.s.sau 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 hara.s.sed by Was.h.i.+ngton'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 Was.h.i.+ngton 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 a.s.sistance. Was.h.i.+ngton, 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 Na.s.sau Hall in Princeton:

_"Here Freedom stood by slaughtered friend and foe, And, ere the wrath paled or that sunset died, Looked through the ages; then, with eyes aglow, Laid them to wait that future, side by side._

"The dark bronze tigers crouch on either side Where redcoats used to pa.s.s; And round the bird-loved house where Mercer died, And violets dusk the gra.s.s, By Stony Brook that ran so red of old, But sings of friends.h.i.+p now, To feed the old enemy's harvest fifty-fold The green earth takes the plow.

"Through this May night, if one great ghost should stray With deep remembering eyes, Where that old meadow of battle smiles away Its blood-stained memories, If Was.h.i.+ngton should walk, where friend and foe Sleep and forget the past, Be sure his unquenched heart would leap to know Their souls are linked at last."

After the battle came happier days for Princeton. Morven was restored, and Was.h.i.+ngton 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 Na.s.sau Hall, it rented for Was.h.i.+ngton the Rocky Hill House, five miles from the village, which was occupied by John Berrian, a.s.sociate 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, Was.h.i.+ngton 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. Was.h.i.+ngton and members of Congress."

It was Was.h.i.+ngton'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 Was.h.i.+ngton'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 Was.h.i.+ngton Headquarters a.s.sociation of Rocky Hill," and is open to the patriotic pilgrim.

x.x.x

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 Was.h.i.+ngton 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 b.u.t.tons on their home-spun coats, nor flas.h.i.+ng 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 st.u.r.dy 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 rus.h.i.+ng 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 G.o.d--and he hated King George!

"He had cause, you might say! When the Hessians that day Marched up with Knyphausen, they stopped on their way At the 'farm,' where his wife, with a child in her arms, Sat alone in the house. How it happened none knew But G.o.d--and that one of the hireling crew Who fired the shot! Enough!--there she lay, And Caldwell, the chaplain, her husband, away!

"Did he preach--did he pray? Think of him as you stand By the old church to-day--think of him and his band Of military ploughboys! See the smoke and the heat Of that reckless advance, of that straggling retreat!

Keep the ghost of that wife, foully slain, in your view-- And what could you, what should you, what would you do?

"Why, just what he did! They were left in the lurch For the want of more wadding. He ran to the church, Broke down the door, stripped the pews, and dashed out in the road With his arms full of hymn-books, and threw down his load At their feet! Then above all the shouting and shots Rang his voice, 'Put Watts into 'em! Boys, give 'em Watts.'

"And they did. That is all. Gra.s.ses spring, flowers blow Pretty much as they did ninety-three years ago.

You may dig anywhere and you'll turn up a ball-- But not always a hero like this--and that's all."

The battle of Springfield is not named among the important battles of the Revolution, but it had a special meaning to the people of all that region, for it taught them that the enemy, who had been hara.s.sing them for months, was not invulnerable. From that day they took fresh courage, and their courage increased when they realized that the British would not come again to trouble them.

After the burning of the Springfield church, the pastor, Rev. Jacob Vanarsdal, gathered his people in the barn of the parsonage. Later the building was ceiled and galleries were built.

For ten years the barn was the home of the congregation, but in 1791 the building was erected which is in use to-day.

FOUR: RAMBLES ABOUT THE CITY OF BROTHERLY LOVE

_In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's waters, Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle, Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded.

There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of beauty, And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the forest, As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they molested.

There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile, Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country.