The private soldiers, who were brought to New-York, were crowded into churches, and environed with slavish Hessian guards, a people of a strange language, who were sent to America for no other design but cruelty and desolation; and at others, by merciless Britons whose mode of communicating ideas being intelligible in this country, served only to tantalize and insult the helpless and perishing; but above all, the hellish delight and triumph of the tories over them, as they were dying by hundreds. This was too much for me to bear as a spectator; for I saw the tories exulting over the dead bodies of their murdered countrymen. I have gone into the churches, and seen sundry of the prisoners in the agonies of death, in consequence of very hunger, and others speechless, and very near death, biting pieces of chips; others pleading for God's sake, for something to eat, and at the same time, shivering with the cold. Hollow groans saluted my ears, and despair seemed to be imprinted on every of their countenances. The filth in these churches, in consequence of the fluxes, was almost beyond description. The floors were covered with excrements. I have carefully sought to direct my steps so as to avoid' it, but could not. They would beg for God's sake for one copper, or morsel of bread. I have seen in one of these churches seven dead, at the same time, lying among the excrements of their bodies.
It was a common practice with the enemy, to convey the dead from these filthy places, in carts, to be slightly buried, and I have seen whole gangs of tories making derision, and exulting over the dead, saying, there goes another load of damned rebels. I have observed the British, soldiers to be full of their black-guard jokes, and vaunting on those occasions, but they appeared to me less malignant than tories.
The provision dealt out to the prisoners was by no means sufficient for the support of life. It was deficient in quantity, and much more so in quality. The prisoners often presented me with a sample of their bread, which I certify was damaged to that degree, that it was loathsome and unfit to be eaten, and I am bold to aver it, as my opinion, that it had been condemned, and of the very worst sort. I have seen and been fed upon damaged bread, in the course of my captivity, and observed the quality of such bread as has been condemned by the enemy, among which was very little so effectually spoiled as what was dealt out to these prisoners. Their allowance of meat (as they told me) was quite trifling, and was of the basest sort. I never saw any of it, but was informed, that bad as it was, it was swallowed almost as quick as they got hold of it. I saw some of them sucking bones after they were speechless; others, who could yet speak, and had the use of their reason, urged me, in the strongest and most pathetic manner, to use my interest in their behalf; for you plainly see, said they, that we are devoted to death and destruction; and after I had examined more particularly into their truly deplorable condition, and had become more fully apprized of the essential facts, I was persuaded that it was a premeditated and systematical plan of the British council, to destroy the youths of our land, with a view thereby to deter the country, and make it submit to their despotism; but that I could not do them any material service, and that, by any public attempt for that purpose, I might endanger myself by frequenting places the most nauseous and contagious that could be conceived of. I refrained going into churches, but frequently conversed with such of the prisoners as were admitted to come out into the yard, and found that the systematical usage still continued. The guard would often drive me away with their fixed bayonets. A Hessian one day followed me five or six rods, but by making use of my legs, I got rid of the lubber. Some times I could obtain a little conversation, notwithstanding their severities.
I was in one of the church yards, and it was rumored among those in the church, and sundry of the prisoners came with their usual complaints to me, and among the rest a large boned, tall young man, as he told me, from Pennsylvania, who was reduced to a mere skeleton; he said he was glad to see me before he died, which he expected to have done last night, but was a little revived; he furthermore informed me, that he and his brother had been urged to enlist into the British, but both had resolved to die first; that his brother had died last night, in consequence of that resolution, and that he expected shortly to follow him; but I made the other prisoners stand a little off, and told him with a low voice to enlist; he then asked, whether it was right in the sight of God! I assured him that it was, and that duty to himself obliged him to deceive the British by enlisting and deserting the first opportunity; upon which he answered with transport that he would enlist. I charged him not to mention my name as his adviser, lest it should get air, and I should be closely confined, in consequence of it. The integrity of the suffering prisoners is hardly credibly. Many hundreds, I am confident, submitted to death, rather than to enlist in the British service, which, I am informed, they most generally were pressed to do. I was astonished at the resolution of the two brothers particularly; it seems that they could not be stimulated to such exertions of heroism from ambition, as they were but obscure soldiers; strong indeed must the internal principle of virtue be, which supported them to brave death, and one of them went through the operation, as did many hundred others. I readily grant that instances of public virtue are no excitement to the sordid and vicious, nor, on the other hand, with all the barbarity of Britain and Heshland awaken them to a sense of their duty to the public; but these things will have their proper effect on the generous and brave. The officers on parole were most of them zealous, if possible, to afford the miserable soldiery relief, and often consulted with one and another on the subject, but to no effect, being destitute of the means of subsistence, which they needed; nor could the officers project any measure, which they thought would alter their fate, or so much as be a means, of getting them out of those filthy places to the privilege of fresh air. Some projected that all the officers should go in procession to general Howe, and plead the cause of the perishing soldiers; but this proposal was negatived for the following reasons, viz: because that general Howe, must needs be well acquainted, and have a thorough knowledge of the state and condition of the prisoners in every of their wretched apartments, and that much more particular and exact than any officer on parole could be supposed to have, as the general had a return of the circumstances of the prisoners, by his own officers, every morning, of the number which were alive, as also the number which died every twenty-four hours; and consequently the bill of mortality, as collected from the daily returns, lay before him with all the material situations and circumstances of the prisoners; and provided the officers should go in procession to general Howe, according to the projection, it would give him the greatest affront, and that he would either retort upon them, that it was no part of their parole to instruct him in his conduct to prisoners; that they were mutining against his authority, and by affronting him, had forfeited their parole; or that, more probably, instead of saying one word to them, would order them all into as wretched confinement as the soldiers whom they sought to relieve; for, at that time, the British, from the general to the private sentinel, were in full confidence, nor did they so much as hesitate, but that they should conquer the country. Thus the consultation of the officers was confounded and broken to pieces, in consequence of the dread, which at that time lay on their minds, of offending Gen. Howe; for they conceived so murderous a tyrant would not be too good to destroy even the officers, on the least pretence of an affront, as they were equally in his power with the soldiers; and, as Gen. Howe perfectly understood the condition of the private soldiers, it was argued that it was exactly such as he and his council had devised, and as he meant to destroy them it would be to no purpose for them to try to dissuade him from it, as they were helpless and liable to the same fate, on giving the least affront; indeed anxious apprehensions disturbed them in their then circumstances.
Mean time mortality raged to such an intolerable degree among the prisoners, that the very school boys in the streets knew the mental design of it in some measure; at least, they knew that they were starved to death. Some poor women contributed to their necessity, till their children were almost starved, and all persons of common understanding knew that they were devoted to the cruelest and worst of deaths. It was also proposed by some to make a written representation of the condition of the soldiery, and the officers to sign it, and that it should be couched in such terms, as though they were apprehensive that the General was imposed upon by his officers, in their daily returns to him of the state and condition of the prisoners; and that therefore the officers, moved with compassion, were constrained to communicate to him the facts relative to them, nothing doubting but that they would meet with a speedy redress; but this proposal was most generally negatived also, and for much the same reason offered in the other case; for it was conjectured that Gen. Howe's indignation would be moved against such officers as should attempt to whip him over his officers' backs; that he would discern that himself was really struck at, and not the officers who made the daily returns; and therefore self-preservation deterred the officers from either petitioning or remonstrating to Gen. Howe, either verbally or in writing; as also the consideration that no valuable purpose to the distressed would be obtained.
I made several rough drafts on the subject, one of which I exhibited to the colonels Magaw, Miles and Atlee, and they said that they would consider the matter; soon after I called on them, and some of the gentlemen informed me that they had written to the general on the subject, and I concluded that the gentleman thought it best that they should write without me, as there was such spirited aversion subsisting between the British and me.
In the mean time a colonel Hussecker, of the continental army, as he then reported, was taken prisoner, and brought to New-York, who gave out that the country was almost universally submitting to the English king's authority, and that there would be little or no more opposition to Great-Britain. This at first gave the officers a little shock, but in a few days they recovered themselves; for this colonel Hussecker, being a German, was feasting with general De Heister, his countryman, and from his conduct they were apprehensive that he was a knave; at least he was esteemed so by most of the officers; it was nevertheless a day of trouble. The enemy blasphemed. Our little army was retreating in New-Jersey, and our young men murdered by hundreds in New-York. The army of Britain and Heshland prevailed for a little season, as though it was ordered by Heaven to shew, to the latest posterity, what the British would have done if they could, and what the general calamity must have been, in consequence of their conquering the country, and to excite every honest man to stand forth in the defence of liberty, and to establish the independency of the United States of America forever. But this scene of adverse fortune did not discourage a Washington. The illustrious American hero remained immoveable. In liberty's cause he took up his sword. This reflection was his support and consolation in the day of his humiliation, when he retreated before the enemy, through New-Jersey into Pennsylvania. Their triumph only roused his indignation; and the important cause of his country, which lay near his heart, moved him to cross the Delaware again, and take ample satisfaction on his pursuers. No sooner had he circumvallated his haughty foes, and appeared in terrible array, but the host of Heshland fell. This taught America the intrinsic worth of perseverance, and the generous sons of freedom flew to the standard of their common safeguard and defence; from which time the arm of American liberty hath prevailed.*
* The American army being greatly reduced by the loss of men
taken prisoners, and by the departure of men whose
inlistments had expired, General Washington was obliged to
retreat towards Philadelphia; General Howe, exulting in his
successes, pursued him, notwithstanding the weather was
severely cold. To add to the disasters of the Americans,
General Lee was surprised and taken prisoner at Baskenridge.
In this gloomy state of affairs, many persons joined the
British cause and took protection. But a small band of
heroes checked the tide of British success. A divisions of
Hessians had advanced to Trenton, where they reposed in
security. General Washington was on the opposite side of the
Delaware, with about three thousand men, many of whom were
without shoes or convenient clothing; and the river was
covered with floating ice. But the general knew the
importance of striking some successful blow, to animate the
expiring hopes of the country; and on the night of December
25th, crossed the river, and fell upon the enemy by
surprise, and took the whole body consisting of about nine
hundred men. A few were killed, among whom was colonel Rahl
the commander.
This surprise and capture of the Hessians enraged the enemy, who were still vastly more numerous than the continental troops. They therefore collected, and marched from Princeton, to attack general Washington, who was then at Trenton, having previously left a detachment from their main body at Princeton, for the support of that place. This was a trying time, for our worthy general, though in possession of a late most astonishing victory, was by no means able to withstand the collective force of the enemy; but his sagacity soon suggested a stratagem to effect that which, by force, to him was at that time impracticable. He therefore amused the enemy with a number of fires, and in the night made a forced march, undiscovered by them, and next morning fell in with their rear-guard at Princeton, and killed and took most of them prisoners. The main body too late perceived their rear was attacked, hurried back with all speed, but to their mortification, found that they were out-generalled and baffled by general Washington, who was retired with his little army towards Morristown, and was out of their power.* These repeated successes, one on the back of the other, chagrined the enemy prodigiously, and had an amazing operation in the scale of American politics, and undoubtedly was one of the corner stones, on which their fair structure of Independency has been fabricated, for the country at no one time has ever been so much dispirited, as just before the morning of this glorious success, which in part dispelled the gloomy clouds of oppression and slavery, which lay pending over America, big with the ruin of this and future generations, and enlightened and spirited her sons to redouble their blows on a merciless, and haughty, and I may add perfidious enemy.
* On the 2d of January, 1777, Lord Cornwallis appeared near
Trenton, with a strong body of troops. Skirmishing took
place, and impeded the march of the British army, until the
Americans had secured their artillery and baggage; when they
retired to the southward of the creek, and repulsed the
enemy in their attempt to pass the bridge. As General
Washington's force was not sufficient to meet the enemy, and
his situation was critical, he determined, with the advice
of a council of war, to attempt a stratagem. He gave orders
for the troops to light fires in their camp, (which were
intended to deceive the enemy,) and be prepared to march.
Accordingly at twelve o'clock at night the troops left the
ground, and by a circuitous march, eluded the vigilance of
the enemy, and early in the morning appeared at Princeton. A
small action ensued, but the British troops gave way. A
party took refuge in the college, a building with strong
stone walls, but were forced to surrender. The enemy lost in
killed, wounded and prisoners, about five hundred men. The
Americans lost but few men; but among them was a most
valuable officer, general Mercer.