by Ron Carter
Moore waited for silence, then called out orders. “Single file. Follow me out the door and lay down your arms.”
Captain James Moore led them out of the wreckage of the big hall into the bright sunlight. One at a time the British followed him with their eyes downcast. He stopped and pointed, and they laid their weapons on the frozen ground, then walked to form into rank and file. Billy and Eli followed the last man out the door and waited while he laid his musket on the stack. Lieutenant Alexander Hamilton and Captain Joseph Moulder walked from their cannon to face the humiliated, beaten redcoats.
“We accept your surrender.”
The battle of Princeton was over. It was not yet ten A.M.
Notes
On January 2, 1777, in full darkness, the guns of both the British and Americans fell silent. General Cornwallis convened a war council to decide what to do. Sir William Erskine said, “If Washington is the general I take him to be, his army will not be found there in the morning” (as quoted in Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 291). General James Grant argued Washington could not move his army overnight, and that with a night’s rest and daylight, the British troops would sustain fewer casualties. General Cornwallis settled it by saying, “We’ve got the old fox safe now. We’ll go over and bag him in the morning” (as quoted in Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 291).
Washington convened a war council of his own to determine how to extract his forces from their very vulnerable and highly exposed position along the Assunpink Creek. With a map drawn by Cadwalader that showed a back road near Princeton, Washington proposed a night march around Cornwallis and the British, and an attack on Princeton at dawn (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, pp. 293-94).
Private Stephen Olney voiced the fears of most of the soldiers to Lieutenant Bridges, to which Bridges replied, “The Lord will help us” (as quoted in Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, pp. 284-85). Indeed, in what Washington called a “providential change of weather” (as quoted in Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 295), a freezing north wind arose and solidified the mud that had slowed the British the day before. Washington ordered the heaviest wagons to move down to Burlington, while men wrapped the cannon wheels in cloth to silence them; the army began its silent march on Quaker Road (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 295).
The night march to Princeton was extremely difficult with tree roots and stumps and rocks stopping the cannon and causing men and horses to stumble and fall. Other dangers lay beneath the thin ice on ponds and streams. In the night, a rumor spread that they were surrounded by Hessians, and some militiamen bolted, running to Philadelphia, never to be seen again (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 296). Some men fell asleep while marching, and Captain Benjamin Frothingham told Sergeant White that “you are the first person I ever see sleep while marching” (as quoted in Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 296).
Shortly before eight A.M., Washington’s forces crossed the Stony Brook bridge and came to the fork in the road. General Hugh Mercer marched three hundred fifty men along the left fork of the road, with orders to destroy the Princeton Road bridge and delay Cornwallis’s column when it came. General John Sullivan, General Washington, and the rest of the American main column proceeded toward Princeton on the right fork, angling behind the British cannon and troop placements (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, pp. 297-98).
Two of Mawhood’s British cavalrymen chanced to see Washington’s column marching north, while Major James Wilkinson saw Mawhood’s column about a mile to the west and marching south. Each soldier reported the sighting to their respective commanding officer. Mawhood turned his column around and marched them rapidly toward Princeton to engage the main American column (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 298). From that point, the maneuvers and clashes of the two opposing armies became complex. Richard M. Ketchum’s book The Winter Soldiers gives an excellent detail of the battle, together with a most helpful map, on pages 298-310.
In summary, as Mawhood marched to intercept the Americans, Mercer and his small command spotted Mawhood’s men and hastened to engage Mawhood to prevent an ambush of the American column. Seeing Mercer coming, Mawhood sent part of his troops back to Princeton as reinforcements for the men already stationed there, while he personally led the balance of his forces to meet Mercer on farmlands owned by Thomas and William Clark and Thomas Olden. Mercer’s untested militia broke under Mawhood’s attack and fled the battlefield in panic. Mercer’s horse was shot from beneath him while he was trying to rally his men, and Mercer was mortally wounded (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, pp. 298-304).
Several other fine American officers also lost their lives, notably Colonel Haslet, Captain John Fleming, Captain Daniel Neil, and Lieutenant Bartholomew Yeates (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, pp. 303, 313).
Upon hearing the intense gunfire, Greene and Cadwalader came to assist Mercer. Greene ordered Captain Joseph Moulder to take his two cannon to the crest of the small knoll and open fire. The cannon fire surprised Mawhood, who recalled his troops until he could scout out the big guns. At that moment, General Washington came riding into the battle alone, rallying the disorganized men with his famous cry, “Parade with us! There is but a handful of the enemy, and we will have them directly!” (as quoted in Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 307). With reinforcements from Colonels Hand and Hitchcock, Washington led the charge that routed Mawhood’s command into a wild, panic-driven retreat that scattered them in all directions. General Washington chased after them, shouting, “It’s a fine fox chase, boys!” (as quoted in Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 308).
Meanwhile, Sullivan moved his men forward to attack the British regiments assigned to defend Princeton. When Sullivan’s men charged, the British broke ranks and ran back into Princeton to barricade themselves inside Nassau Hall. Captains Alexander Hamilton and Joseph Moulder arrived with their cannon and opened fire. One cannon ball neatly decapitated a huge painting of King George II hanging inside the building. The British inside surrendered (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, pp. 309-10).
Princeton
January 3, 1777
CHAPTER XVII
With the sun past its zenith, General Washington brought his tired mare to a stop twenty yards from the great Nassau Hall. He dismounted, turned, and handed the reins to Major John Fitzgerald of his staff. “Have someone walk her until she’s cooled out, then rub her down, and grain her. Gather all the officers you can find for a council.”
“Yes, sir.” Dried sweat streaked the mare’s hide, and lather had built up around the saddle and bridle from the wild run that Washington had made for more than one hour leading his men in their rout and chase of the British. The Americans had fragmented Mawhood’s command, then driven the leaderless regulars in every direction until they were no longer an army.
Fitzgerald handed the reins to the nearest sergeant, gave orders, then swung back onto his own weary horse and looked around the campus for the men wearing gold braid on their black, tricornered hats.
Most of the American soldiers were scattered throughout Princeton, hunting for the British stores and supplies. Some had found homes where the British officers had just begun breakfast when the American troops had come storming, and without a word the Americans sat down at the tables to finish the meals, savoring every mouthful. Others found blankets, salted pork, flour, dried fish, dried fruit, sacked potatoes, medicines, gunpowder, and munitions, and were putting them out into the streets for the wagons to pick up.
While he waited, Washington studied the shattered windows in Nassau Hall, then the splintered doors, and the stack of British muskets forty feet from the entry, all of which he understood immediately. As he walked, waiting for his officers, soldiers stopped to peer at him. In silence they watched at a respectful distance, while in their minds they once again saw him flying on his white horse to inspire the terrified Pennsylvania militia into action. Straight into the muzzles of the British muskets—Halt!—Fire!—the Pennsylvanians hold—the British break —”It’s a fine fox chase,
boys!”
They looked at him, and they dropped their eyes, and said nothing. They went back about their work, but no man who had seen it would ever forget the memory.
Fitzgerald loped his horse back to Washington and dismounted. “The officers are on their way, sir—the ones I could find.”
Washington identified and counted them as they came. Sullivan, Hitchcock, Greene, St. Clair, Cadwalader, Knox, Wilkinson. They gathered near him while he peered out over the campus, searching for those who were missing.
Fitzgerald said, “That’s all I could find, sir.”
Washington nodded. “Come with me.” He led them inside Nassau Hall, through the devastated prayer hall to an austere classroom that had an old, scarred pinewood desk, and tables and benches for the students. They pushed the tables aside and sat on the benches, facing him as he stood before the desk.
“I left General Potter at the Stony Brook bridge to destroy it, with Captain Forrest to assist. I also left scouts out to report here to us when they see General Cornwallis approaching. He can’t be far.”
He drew a deep breath, and every man in the room saw the fear in his face when he asked the next question. “Has anyone seen General Mercer?”
Cadwalder spoke quietly. “His aide, Major Armstrong, gave me a message. He found General Mercer near a barn on the Clark farm.” Cadwalader’s eyes dropped as he finished. “His skull is broken. He has more than fifteen bayonet wounds. Major Armstrong and Dr. Rush are there with him in the Clark home, but there’s little hope. He’s dying.”
Washington’s head bowed. He raised his hand to his face, thumb and forefinger digging into weary eyes. His jaw was clamped shut and those nearest saw him swallow hard. Hugh Mercer had been one of his oldest, dearest friends. A general in whom he had total confidence, total trust. He had loved the man as he would a brother.
Slowly Washington raised his face. “Colonel Haslet?”
In the silence, Greene spoke softly. “He fell trying to rally the Pennsylvania militia. A bullet struck him in the head. He felt nothing.”
The air went out of Washington, and his shoulders slumped, and for a fleeting moment every officer in the room saw the searing pain in Washington’s heart. They looked at the floor and they waited in the silence while he rallied. There was no time for grief, for venting the pain. Quickly he swept it aside into that place where he stored such things, to be brought out in the quiet moments when he had the luxury of time to come to terms with his own personal heartbreaks and sorrows. He composed himself and moved on.
“At best, we have very little time. Our first duty is to our wounded. Order your men to seek our own wounded first. Leave the dead. I regret it, but there is nothing we can do about it.”
He paused to order his thoughts. “Order your men to get all the British stores they can find, particularly gunpowder. What we can’t take, have them burn. Blow up the excess munitions. Take all the cannon our horses can pull, and spike the remainder. Leave the British as little as you can.”
He turned to General Henry Knox. “When we leave here, take a detail of men to the western edge of town and find an estate called Morven. It belonged to Richard Stockton. General Cornwallis used it for his headquarters. Go through it from basement to rooftop and get all the records you can find, along with all the gold or currency.”
“Yes, sir.”
“As soon as each of you can, report the number of our casualties to Major Fitzgerald. Include your best estimate of the British casualties, including the prisoners.”
He stopped and shifted his feet for a moment. “We have a difficult decision to make. The British have a large store of supplies and munitions at Brunswick, along with seventy thousand pounds, sterling. It is a very tempting prize. We could arrive in Brunswick before morning. What are your thoughts on that proposal?”
St. Clair shook his head. “Most of our men could not make the march, sir. Few of them would be fit for battle when we got there. They’ve already made the march from Trenton, and fought a battle after two nights without sleep.”
Greene spoke. “It would be a tragedy to risk all we have won, and lose it, sir.”
Washington heaved a great sigh. “I concur. I do not know how many British were left to defend Brunswick, but even if it were but a small force, I am hard-pressed to think our men could rise to another march and another battle. They’re absolutely fatigued.”
He raised one hand to stroke at his chin. “I have considered where we should go for winter quarters. It appears to me that Morristown would be our best choice. The town is small, located on a plateau at the foot of the Thimble Mountains. Nearby, on the east, is another ridge, the Watchung Mountains. They run from the Raritan River on the south to the northern borders of New Jersey. From outside those mountains, the only access to Morristown is through narrow passes that we can easily defend should the British attempt an attack. We will be just thirty miles from New York City, where we can keep a constant watch on General Howe and his movements. I recommend that we winter there to allow our men to regain their strength, and to refit the army for the spring. Are there other suggestions?”
There were none.
“Then we will march from here to Morristown. Is there anything else?”
The officers glanced at each other and shook their heads.
“Very well. When you hear the drumroll, assemble your commands as quickly as you can. We will march out immediately for Morristown. We cannot afford to have General Cornwallis catch us here.”
He paused for one moment. “I extend to each of you my congratulations. You and your men performed well today. I believe what we have accomplished here will solidify the resolve of our people and will shock the British empire profoundly. I thank you all.”
He stopped for a moment, forehead wrinkled as he reflected to make certain the council had handled the necessary business.
“I believe we are finished. Continue in your orders. You are dismissed.”
Notes
The best estimates record the British losses after the battle of Princeton at 286 either killed, wounded, or missing, and the American losses at 44 either killed or wounded (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 313; Stryker, The Battles of Trenton and Princeton, p. 295; Ward, The War of the Revolution, vol. I, p. 316; Boatner, The Encyclopedia of the American Revolution, p. 894).
Two hours after the battle of Princeton, word reached Washington that Cornwallis had been seen approaching Worth’s Mill and would be in Princeton shortly (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 313). Washington debated on his next course of action, but decided that it would not be possible to march to Brunswick for another attack despite the tempting cache of supplies and munitions there (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, pp. 313, 316-17). It was time to find quarters for the winter instead. It was obvious the Continental army needed rest as “some of these boys had been on their feet for forty-eight hours, during which time they had fought two battles in the dead of winter, made a forced night march across sixteen rugged miles, and been almost without food or drink” (see Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 314).
The weary, but victorious Americans gathered up men and supplies and began marching to Morristown. Though this chapter does not detail the events surrounding the march to Morristown, it is well worth reading about the heroics of Major John Kelly as he and a small group of men held off Cornwallis and the British army while the Americans evacuated Princeton (see Ketchum’s The Winter Soldiers, pp. 314-19).
The battle of Princeton marked an important development in the makeup of the Continental army. The ragged men who had fled across New Jersey only months before had now returned in strength and pride to claim their land and liberty. It was during the early months of 1777 that Washington substituted the regional and individual designations of the Continental army with the term “American,” which was “the greater name” (as quoted in Ketchum, The Winter Soldiers, p. 319).
Versailles, France
February 25, 1777
CHAPTER X
VIII
Doctor Benjamin Franklin sat on the delicate, velvetupholstered settee in the richly decorated and appointed anteroom of the French Minister of Foreign Affairs, Comte de Vergennes. He leaned forward, both palms laid over the silver crown of his plain, crooked hickory cane, expression nearly bemused, eyes half-closed. He missed nothing as he studied those who passed, gauging their mood, listening to every word spoken.
The large, heavy door into the inner office opened and Monsieur Gérard of the Foreign Office stood stiffly to one side. Immaculate in his dress, the small man woodenly announced, “The Comte de Vergennes will see you now.”
Franklin heaved his seventy-one-year-old body onto his feet, stood for a moment while his legs took the weight, and reached for his leather valise. He smiled humbly to Gérard, and said quietly, “Thank you,” as he walked into the office.
Vergennes stood behind a massive, dark oak desk in his sumptuous office. Behind him, the large painting of young King Louis XVI above the heavy fireplace mantel dominated the room and gave the impression the king was somehow a presence. A fire burned in the fireplace, and knots popped, throwing tiny volcanoes of sparks that died and fell back into the flames. The warmth reached far into the room.
“Please, be seated there, near the desk,” Vergennes said. His smile was broad, solicitous.
Franklin bowed and sat down, his valise in his lap. “Thank you, your Excellency.”
“I trust your coach was heated for your ride here.”