USA > New Jersey > Essex County > Newark > The history of Newark, New Jersey : being a narrative of its rise and progress, from the settlement in May, 1666, by emigrants from Connecticut to the present time, including a sketch of the press of Newark, from 1791 to 1878 > Part 12
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eighteenth century. He was born in 1734, and was educated for the ministry under the tutelage of President Burr, ere yet Princeton College had removed from Newark. He graduated in 1759. Two years later he was ordained by the Presbytery at New Brunswick, and installed as pastor of the First Presbyterian Church at Elizabeth. A year after this, in 1763, he married Hannah Ogden. In character he greatly resembled William Emerson, the patriot-divine of Mas- sachusetts, who considered that love of God and love of country were twin-born offsprings of the true man. Caldwell, like Emerson, Macwhorter and other Revolutionary period preachers of the Gospel, believed that there were times when it was righteous to fight as well as pray-when it was not only justifiable but a duty to turn the temples of the Most High into forts and towers for the defence of His people. When, therefore, the issue was made between England and America, Caldwell took his place at once on the side of his native land. Almost to a man and woman, his church-to its everlasting honor be it said-sustained him. He became, in June, 1776, chaplain of the Jersey Brigade, under Col. Dayton. Mentally and physically he was a man of great force and courage. He was of middle stature, but strong frame ; had a pensive, placid cast of countenance, which lit up with expressiveness under excite- ment. His voice was of a silvery tone, and capable of great power. As a preacher he was persuasively eloquent ; as a patriot he earned the love and admiration of the people and the soldiery, likewise the esteem and confidence of Washington and other leaders in field and council. While the army was in camp in Morris County, Chaplain Caldwell acted as Deputy Quarter-Master General, with quarters at Chatham. Such was the respect in which he was held by the people, that his appeals for provisions for the troops were never made in vain. His activity was proverbial in and out of camp. One day he was preaching a sermon to the troops,-a sermon teeming with love of country as well as love of God ; another he would be collecting or distributing stores as commissary. Denoting the manner of man he was, as well as the character of the times, is the fact that oftentimes the warrior-priest placed a pair of pistols on his desk beside the Word of God, so as to be ready for any sudden appearance of the enemy. Over his office door at Chatham were the letters "D. Q. M. G." It is stated that on one occasion he found his friend, Abraham Clark, a New Jersey signer of the Declaration of Independence, looking
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"PUT WATTS INTO 'EM, BOYS! GIVE 'EM WATTS!"
wonderingly at the letters. Mr. Clark said he was striving to comprehend their meaning. "Well, what do you think they mean?" asked Caldwell. " I cannot conceive," replied Clark, "unless they mean Devilish Queer Minister of the Gospel !"
And now to the part Chaplain Caldwell bore in the battle of Springfield. Throughout the engagement he displayed great ardor and conspicuous courage, which, it is safe to assume, lost nothing of its determination by his recollection of the wanton slaughter of his wife a few weeks previously, as already described. In the midst of the fight, while the men of the Jersey Brigade were contesting every inch of ground with Knyphausen's troops, the gun wadding gave out. At this moment, upon being apprised of the situation, Mr. Caldwell hastened to the Presbyterian Church, near which the Americans were stationed, and soon returned, as the well authenti- cated tradition states, with his arms full of Dr. Watts' hymn-books. He hastily distributed these to the soldiers, saying: "Now put Watts into them, boys! give 'em Watts!" With such a spirit and such an example on the part of the man of God, it is not surprising that the laymen fought with a degree of gallantry richly deserving the commendation of Washington and Greene; or that the loss on the British side that day was out of all proportion to that of the Americans.
The fate of the knightly priest was equally tragic with that of his lamented wife, and if possible more wantonly cruel in its enactment. He was intimately acquainted with the Murray family, residing in New York. The Murrays had endeared themselves to the Jersey people by their kindness to Jersey prisoners held in New York. Under protection of a flag of truce, on November 24th, 1781, Miss Beulah Murray visited Elizabethtown, to spend a season with some relatives there. Mr. Caldwell met her with his carriage at the Point. After seating her in it, he returned to the ferry-boat for Miss Murray's small bundle. While it was being examined, a brutal soldier named James Morgan, who was off duty, ordered Mr. Caldwell to stop, and, leveling his musket, deliberately fired. Mr. Caldwell dropped dead, shot through the heart. Two days after- wards he was buried in Elizabethtown, in presence of a large heart-wounded congregation. Rev. Dr. Macwhorter, of Newark, delivered the funeral oration. All New Jersey wept bitter tears over the bier of the " rebel high-priest." Morgan, the murderer, was
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EXECUTION OF CALDWELL'S MURDERER.
arrested, tried, and hanged by Noah Marsh, High Sheriff of Essex County. The execution took place at Westfield, then in Essex County. Morgan was a hard-hearted wretch, as shown by his calling, with an oath, to the sheriff to hang him quickly, and not keep him " shivering in the cold "-the day of execution being a bitter cold day in January, 1782. Various motives have been ascribed to the murderer. The most probable one is that Mr. Caldwell had excited Morgan's ire because he had not, as Quarter-Master General, tendered the fellow his pay regularly, and that in a drunken frenzy he saw Mr. Caldwell and murdered him as described. On the trial, a witness named Samuel Hicks testified that he had overheard Morgan say he would "pop Caldwell over," for the reason stated.
In the church which Caldwell served as pastor at Elizabethtown, handsome marble monuments were erected, many years after, in memory of the murdered pastor and his wife. The epitaph on Mr. Caldwell's marble sets forth that he was "the pious and fervent Christian, the zealous and faithful minister, the eloquent preacher and a prominent leader among the worthies who secured the liberties of his country." It prophetically adds: " His name will be cherished in the Church and in the State, so long as virtue is esteemed or patriotism honored." Mrs. Caldwell's epitaph speaks of her as having been " cruelly sacrificed by the enemies of her husband and her country." Caldwell's name has been given to one of the towns of Essex County. Nor has the poetic spirit failed to find in his character a fit theme for versification. The following well-conceived and neatly turned lines are from the pen of Bret Harte :
CALDWELL, OF SPRINGFIELD.
Here's the spot. Look around you. Above on the height Lay the Hessians encamped. By that Church on the right - Stood the bold Jersey farmers; and here ran a wall- You may dig anywhere and you'll turn up a ball; Nothing more. Grasses spring, waters run, flowers blow, Pretty much as they did a century ago.
Nothing more, did I say? 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 ; He loved the Lord God-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
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REVOLUTIONARY REMINISCENCES.
At " The Farms," where his wife, with a child in her arms, Sat alone in the house. How it happened none knew But God 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 that band Of militant 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 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. Grasses spring, waters run, flowers blow
Pretty much as they did ninety-six years ago. You may dig anywhere and you'll turn up a ball ; But not always a hero like this-and that's all.
Newark, at the breaking out of the war, numbered less than one thousand inhabitants, or about two hundred families. With that number it was necessary for two families to occupy one house in a number of cases, for it is stated that in 1777 there were but one hundred and forty-one houses in the place-thirty-eight in the North ward, fifty in the South ward, twenty-eight in the East ward, and twenty-five in the West ward.
Among the families pre-eminently true to the cause of America were the Allings, the Balls, the Baldwins, the Beaches, the Bruens, the Burnets, the Camps, the Congers, the Condits, the Cranes, the Coes, the Heddens, the Hayeses, the Johnsons, the Macwhorters, the Meekers, the Penningtons and the Wheelers.
The following Revolutionary reminiscence of the Alling family is preserved : John Alling, a great-grandson of Deacon Alling, who came to Newark from New Haven, in 1698, and settled here, was a hearty hater of red-coats. He held the position of lieutenant in a company of minute men. Early one morning a detachment of British soldiers was observed moving up Market street. The lieutenant hastened into his house, (which stood in from the north- west corner of Broad and Market streets,) and warned his wife to conceal herself with the children. With his gun he returned to the
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THE ALLINGS AND THE WHEELERS.
street, and lay in waiting for the approach of the enemy. From his hiding place he popped off a couple of the red-coats; but leaving his position, he drew from the enemy a volley, and fled to the orchard under a shower of whistling bullets. In an upper chamber sat his grandfather, who witnessed the flight. "Run, John!" cried the venerable Newarker, and John did, and escaped. "Shall I shoot the old devil?" said a red-coat to his officer. With more humanity than was wont to possess the natures of his brother officers, when making unceremonious visits to the Jerseys, the officer replied : "No; he's too old to do us any harm." Another of the Allings, Joseph, served with distinction as a captain in the Jersey Brigade.
Of the Wheeler family, e'en "if Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise," there still stands a memorial. It is anything but ambitious, anything but worthy the estimable name it recalls. It is the dilapidated remnant of the once proud Wheeler mansion, situated on the northeast corner of Market and Mulberry streets. It now forms the central part of a group of cheap buildings. The venerable pile has a history. It dates back to 1769, when its erection was begun by Captain Caleb Wheeler, a brother of James. It took seven years to build it. In the summer of the memorable year 1776 it was completed and occupied by the Captain's family. At that time it was accounted one of the great houses of the Province. Captain Wheeler, its owner, was a man of large substance. Soon after the settlement of his family in it, the British began their incursions into New Jersey. Captain Wheeler and a Mr. Williams, a neighbor, whose dwelling stood about where the Central Methodist Church now stands, had agreed that whoever should first learn of the approach of the British should apprise the other. Very early one morning "the beat of the alarming drum " roused Mr. Williams, He sprang from bed, partially dressed, and hurried to arouse the Wheelers. "Run for your lives; the British are coming!" he shouted, adding: "Go to your hiding places, and I will go to mine." Before he could make good his intention he was shot dead; a British spy murdered him. Meanwhile Captain Wheeler secreted himself in the centre of a hay-rick, while his wife and children hid away in a safe part of the house. Along to the hay-rick, which stood on what is now Clinton street, moved several soldiers. Repeatedly they thrust their bayonets through the hay,
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CAPTAIN CALEB'S ESCAPE-CAPTAIN CAMP.
remarking that "if the d-d rebels are in there, they are dead by this time." The Captain's clothing was pretty well pierced, but he escaped without a scratch. His family were unscathed also. The Wheeler house was rifled and despoiled, however, and the beautifully laid out grounds overrun after the malicious manner already depicted. During the war the dwelling, thanks to the sterling loyalty of its owners and occupants, was a house of refuge for many a disgusted deserter from the British ranks. It became noted as such, and more than once was visited by British officers in search of fugitive soldiers. Never once were they successful, however ; the runaways always found a secure hiding place where Mrs. Wheeler and her children eluded royalist search on the occasion described. Once a French officer, in the British service, made his appearance at the Wheeler house in search of food and shelter. He had deserted from the British army, he said, having " revolted at the idea of fighting against so noble a cause as that of the American, and against so noble a people as the Americans." He was hid away for several days, and finally made his escape to France.
Of the Camp family there still exists a memorial which recalls the days of the Revolution. It is in the form of an antique piece of ordnance, a six-pounder iron howitzer. This cannon, according to the well authenticated records of the family, was given in charge of Captain Nathaniel Camp by no less illustrious a personage than George Washington. It was at the time the American army was encamped in New Jersey, and when Newark was subjected to frequent depredatory visits from red-coats and refugees One day, as the tradition has it, General Washington visited Newark, and stopped and dined at Captain Camp's house, which was built in the year 1737, and stood on the southeast corner of Camp and Broad streets. The General promised to send the cannon to Newark, and he did. In speaking of the subject, the descendants of the Captain dwell with pride on the most trifling incidents of the visit-how His Excellency had his charger hitched to the fine buttonwood tree in front of the Camp house, and how he heartily enjoyed the ham and eggs prepared for him by the Captain's good dame. The chair the General sat in is still preserved, like the cannon, as a most precious memorial, and has been made to serve the cause of Christianity at church fairs, by charging a fee for its momentary occupancy. Captain Camp commanded an artillery company, but
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"OLD NAT"-WILLIAM AND CALEB CAMP.
whether any active service was performed with the cannon in Newark-beyond firing national salutes upon each recurring Fourth of July-is not certain. During the war of 1812 the cannon was in possession of an artillery company, commanded by Captain John I. Plume, stationed in Newark. Subsequently it was restored to Captain Camp's keeping, and was among the Revolutionary relics exhibited at the Centennial Exhibition. Henceforth it will form one of the interesting memorials at the Morristown "Washington Headquarters." Upon its breech "Old Nat " -- the name given the cannon by the 1812 military-has the following inscription :
N. C. 1777 4018
[The last four figures are thus translated : four hundred, no quarters, eighteen pounds.]
William, a brother of Captain Camp, was, like Judge Hedden, “ a victim to British tyranny." He was an enterprising Newark mer- chant at the outbreak of the war, and is said to have been the only person up to his own generation who had ever imported foreign goods for Newark's consumption. Pictou coal and gypsum were among his chief staples. During the fall of 1776, having made himself obnoxious to the enemies of his country, he was seized as a prisoner by the British soldiers, carried to New York, flung into the Sugar House prison there, and subjected to such privations and cruelties during the winter, that he died in January 1777. Protected by General Washington's flag of truce, Captain Nathaniel Camp visited New York and obtained possession of William's body. It was brought to Newark, and interred somewhere in the Old Burying Ground. William Camp was in his forty-seventh year when he died. Caleb Camp, another staunch revolutionist, was more fortu- nate. He was an efficient partisan, and lived to the ripe age of over fourscore. Yet another member of the Camp family carried his life in his hand for the land of his birth-John Camp a nephew of Captain " Nat," and of William. He met a soldier's fate, having been killed during one of the engagements in Georgia, about the year 1780.
The Conger family was worthily represented in the army by Lieutenant Samuel Conger. The type of man the Lieutenant was is revealed by an incident. When the war closed, the country considered the subject of bestowing pensions on its heroes. Lieu-
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A SPIRITED WEAVER AND A BRAVE BRUEN.
tenant Conger was asked if he wanted one. Promptly he replied : "No; I want no pension -- at least not as long as I can shoot a shuttle." He was a weaver by occupation, and disdained to ask government support.
Caleb Bruen held a captain's commission in the patriot army. Like Captain Nathaniel Camp, he possessed the confidence of Washington. He somehow gained also the confidence of the British officers, but, at the risk of an ignominious death on the gallows, turned this confidence to the great advantage of his country. Because of the intense suffering and privation to which the American soldiery of the Pennsylvania line were subjected by the force of circumstances, some of the officers and men conceived the idea of revolting. Hearing something about the matter, the British sought to foster the disaffection. A correspondence was opened between the recreant American officers and the British. Somehow, Captain Bruen became possessed of the secret, and was chosen to carry the traitorous correspondence. Waiting till the plot for revolt was ripe, the Captain secretly placed the important dispatches before General Washington. The treason was nipped in the bud, the Commander- in-chief being enabled, by Captain Bruen's action, to pluck the flower of safety from the nettle danger Captain Bruen, in the soi- disant character of a British spy, next boldly entered the British lines and was arrested. He was charged with exposing the plot. The letters were demanded, but of course not forthcoming. They were accounted for by the Captain in this way : He was suspected, he said, by the Americans, and, in order to save himself and his secrets, he destroyed the letters. His explanation was received with doubt, and he was thrown into the Sugar House at New York, and confined there till the close of the war. He was then brought home, but in a condition as helpless as an infant. After careful nursing, extending quite a long time, he fully recovered his health, and lived to a ripe old age.
The Baldwins, like the Burnets, were represented in the Revolu- tionary cause by a surgeon-Dr. Cornelius Baldwin.
The Balls, by Stephen, who was hanged by the loyalists because of his "extreme rebel disposition and conduct ;" and Samuel, who was killed in the action at Connecticut Farms.
The Johnsons, by Rev. Stephen, a graduate of Yale College in 1743, who removed to Lyme, Connecticut, and, it is stated, "was a
MORE NEWARK HEROES-CUDJO, THE BLACK PATRIOT. II7 distinguished religious and political writer, who did much to advance the cause of freedom in the Revolutionary period."
The Beaches, by Josiah, who was shot in the engagement near Scotch Plains, June 26th, 1777 ; and by Zophar, who served first as a sailor and then as a soldier.
The Cranes, by Jonas, who was mortally wounded while making a gallant "forlorn hope " assault on Fort Delancey, at Saltersville, a post on Newark bay held by the British.
The Condits, by Colonels David and Ebenezer.
The Hayeses, by Major Samuel, "a true whig, vigilant and active 'in the times that tried men's souls.'"
The Wheelers, by Captain James, who died on March 12th, 1777 having served with distinction in the Revolutionary army, and who, as a descendant of Newark, was "worthy of a more honorable monument than the edifice stealthily and illegally erected on the burial place of the family."
Nor should the Revolutionary annals of Newark omit mention in this patriotic connection of yet another name worthy of local fame- that of Cudjo. Cudjo was a black man, a slave owned by Benjamin Coe. He entered the army as a substitute for his venerable master, and it is possible may have been one of the seven hundred black American patriots who imperilled their lives for their country at the battle of Monmouth-bravely fighting side by side with the whites. For his services in the field Cudjo was given, by Mr. Coe, his free- dom and nearly an acre of ground on High street, near Nesbitt. There was a something about the bearing of Cudjo which gave strength to the claim advanced by him that he was of royal African lineage.
The space from Lexington to Yorktown is dotted with daring and interesting exploits of Jersey militia and minute-men in the immediate neighborhood of Newark. The central figure of quite a number was Captain Littell, who appears to have been a bold, daring, dashing "Son of Liberty," a man of handsome and imposing personal appearance, endowed with great resoluteness, and a stranger to fear. The Captain seems to have been a decided favorite with the fair sex. A volunteer company, thought to have been under his command, was provided by the patriotic women of Newark and vicinity with uniforms of a description which not only distinguished them among their fellow-patriots, but which has served to furnish
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DARING EXPLOITS OF CAPTAIN LITTELL.
Jerseymen ever since with an appellation of which they are justly proud. The uniforms consisted of tow frocks and pantaloons dyed blue. To these is ascribed the origin of the name " Jersey Blues."
On the very day the British force under Cornwallis abandoned Newark, a company of Waldeckers was dispatched towards Con- necticut Farms on some particular service. Captain Littell and his brave spirits speedily followed. Dividing his small force into two sections, the Captain placed one in ambush in the rear of the Waldeckers, and then suddenly appeared in front with the other and boldly demanded the enemy's surrender. Not being able, owing to the nature of the ground, and the approach of night, to determine the size of Littell's force, the Waldeckers sought to make a retro- grade movement. Instantly they were assailed in flank as well as front, and were so thoroughly demoralized that they surrendered without having fired a shot. Exasperated over the affair, the great inferiority of Littell's force becoming known, the British Commander ordered out a large body of Hessians to wipe out the affront. Again, thanks to his thorough knowledge of the ground, his intrepid spirit, his marvellous skill at ambuscading, likewise the esprit and gallantry of his Blues, Littell completely discomfitted his enemy. After goading and injuring him severely at several points, he finally, by an adroit manœuvre, drew him into a swamp and compelled him to surrender again to greatly inferior numbers. This defeat was still more mortifying to the hireling General, and this time he determined to make short work of "the rascally clever rebel crew." A troop of horse was ordered out; but they were only more successful than their predecessors in that, thanks to their horses, they were able, after being routed, to make good their escape! A fourth attempt was made to put a summary end to the career of the bold Captain and his gallant little band. This time a force of three hundred men was ordered out, and placed under the leadership of a noted Tory, one familiar with the country and, as supposed, with Littell's movements. He was to receive a large reward for the capture of Littell and the destruction of his band. Guided by their American mercenary leader, the Hessian troops secretly stole to the neighborhood of Captain Littell's house. A large number surrounded it and began a storm of musketry against the dwelling, the design being to destroy the lion in his lair. It happened, how- ever, that the Captain was elsewhere. He appeared presently on
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METTLE AND DASH OF ESSEX COUNTY PATRIOTS.
the scene, but under circumstances the enemy did not dream of. He had with him his own men and another body of volunteers. He attacked the house-storming party in the rear with such vigor that, stunned and terror-stricken, the Tory-guided expedition fled precipitately ; not, however, until its renegade conductor was picked off by a shot from Captain Littell's own musket, nor until the whole body suffered terribly from Littell's ambushed force. At the time of the march of Knyphausen from Elizabethtown to Springfield, Captain Littell, with a company of artillery, proved a very lion in the path of the Anglo-Hessian commander.
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