Chapter XIII: ```"The men of seventy-six in their good arm (4)

* Dr. Woodhull preached the funeral sermon on the occasion of the burial of Captain Huddy, at Freehold, in the spring of 1782, from the piazza of the hotel now kept by Mr. Higgins. Captain Huddy lived in the central part of Colt's Neck, about five miles from Freehold. He was an ardent Whig, and by his activity and courage became a terror to the Tories. In the summer of 1780, a mu latto, named Titus, and about sixty refugees, attacked Huddy's house, in the evening. The only inmates were Huddy and Lueretia Emmons (afterward Mrs. Chambers), a servant girl about twenty years of age. There were several guns in the house; these Lueretia loaded, while Huddy fired them from different windows. Titus and some others were wounded. They set fire to the house, when Huddy surrendered, and the flames were extinguished. The prisoners were taken on board of a boat near Black Point. Just as it was pushed off from the shore, Huddy leaped into the water, and escaped under fire of some militia who were in pursuit of the Tories. In the spring of 1782, Huddy commanded a block-house, situated a short distance north of the bridge at the" village of Tom's River. It was attacked by some refugees from New York, and his ammunition giving out, Huddy was obliged to surrender. Himself and companions were taken to New York, and afterward back to Sandy Hook, and placed, heavily ironed, on board a guard-ship. On the 12th of April, sixteen refugees, under Captain Lippincott, took Huddy to Gravelly Point, on the shore at the foot of the Navesink Hills, near the light-houses, and hung him upon a gallows made of three rails. He met his fate with composure. Upon the barrel on which he stood for execution, he wrote his will with an unfaltering hand. His murderers falsely charged him with being concerned in the death of a desperate Tory, named Philip White, which occurred while Huddy was a prisoner in New York. To the breast of Huddy, the infamous Lippincott affixed the following label: "We, the refugees, having long with grief beheld the cruel murders of our brethren, and finding nothing but such measures daily carrying into execution; we therefore determine not to suffer, without taking vengeance for the numerous cruelties; and thus begin, having made use of Captain Huddy as the first object to present to your view; and further determine to hang man for man, while there is a refugee existing. Up goes Huddy for Philip White!"

* Huddy's body was carried to Freehold, and hurried with the honors of war. His death excited the greatest indignation throughout the country. Dr. Woodhull earnestly entreated Washington to retaliate, in order that such inhuman murders might be prevented. The commander-in-chief acquiesced, but, instead of executing a British officer at once, he wrote to Sir Henry Clinton, assuring him that, unless the murderers of Huddy were given up, he should proceed to retaliate. Clinton refused compliance, and Captain Asgill, a young British officer (son of Sir Charles Asgill), who was a prisoner, was designated, by lot, for execution. In the mean while, Lippincott was tried by a court martial; and it appeared, in testimony, that Governor Franklin, president of the Board of Associated Loyalists, had given that officer verbal orders to hang Huddy. Lippincott was acquitted. Sir Guy Carleton, who had succeeded Sir Henry Clinton, in a letter to Washington, reprobated the death of Huddy, and acquainted him that he had broken up the Board of Associated Loyalists. Washington had mercifully postponed the execution of young Asgill, and, in the mean time, had received a pathetic letter from Lady Asgill, his mother, and an intercessory one from Count De Vergennes, the French minister. He sent these letters to Congress, and, on the 5th of November, 1782, that body resolved, "That the commander-in-chief be, and hereby is, directed to set Captain Asgill at liberty." The tenderest sympathies of Washington had been awakened in the young man's behalf, and he had resolved to do all in his power, consistent with duty, to save him; and yet the unfair compiler of the Pictorial History of England (v., 489) accuses Washington of foul dishonor, and expresses his belief that, "as at the crisis when he put Major André to death, and refused him the last sad consolation he asked for, he was now rendered gloomy and irascible by the constant and degrading troubles and mortifications in which he was involved." Nothing can be more unjust than this sentence. In a humorous poem, entitled Rivington's Reflections, Philip Freneau thus alludes to the ease of Asgill. He makes Rivington (the Tory printer in New York) say,

"I'll petition the rebels (if York is forsaken)
For a place in their Zion which ne'er shall be shaken.
I am sure they'll be clever; it seems their whole study;
They hung not young Asgill for old Captain Huddy.
And it must be a truth that admits no denying--
If they spare us for murder they'll spare us for lying."

[[[Inscription upon Woodhull's Monument--Capture and Execution of Captain Huddy.--Case of Captain Asgill.]]]

{366}one morning, while conversing with his brother, in Latin, on the state of his soul, he fainted, and seemed to expire. He was laid out, and preparations were made for his funeral. His

[[[Remarkable Case of William Tennent.--His own Description of his Feelings.--Loss of his Papers.]]]

{367}physician, who was absent, was much grieved on his return. His skill detected symptoms of life, and he desired a postponement of burial. The body was cold and stiff; there were no signs of life to the common apprehension, and his brother insisted that he should be buried. But the entreaties of the physician prevailed; the funeral was postponed. On the third day after his apparent death, the people were assembled to bury him. The doctor, who had been at his side from the beginning, still insisted upon applying restoratives. The hour appointed for the burial arrived, and the brother of Tennent impatiently demanded that the funeral ceremonies should be performed. At that moment, to the alarm of all present, Mr. Tennent opened his eyes, gave a dreadful groan, and relapsed again into apparent lifelessness. This movement was twice repeated after an interval of an hour, when life permanently remained, and the patient slowly recovered. * Absolute forgetfulness of all knowledge marked his return to consciousness. He was totally ignorant of every transaction of his life previous to his sickness. He had to be taught reading, writing, and all things, as if he was a new-born child. At length he felt a sudden shock in his head, and from that moment his recollection was by degrees restored. These circumstances made a profound impression on the public mind, and became the theme of philosophical speculation and inquiry.

When the storm abated we left the church and proceeded to the battle-ground. The old parsonage is in the present possession of Mr. William T. Sutphen, who has allowed the parlor and study of Tennent and Woodhull to be used as a depository of grain and of agricultural implements! The careless neglect which permits a mansion so hallowed by religion and patriotic events to fall into utter ruin, is actual desecration, and much to be reprehended and deplored. The windows are destroyed; the roof is falling into the chambers; and in a few years not a vestige will be left of that venerable memento of the _field of Monmouth._

We visited the spot where Monckton fell; the place of the causeway across the morass (now a small bridge upon the main road); and, after taking a general view of the whole ground of conflict, and sketching the picture on page 362, returned to Freehold in time to dine, and take the stage for the station at Jamesburg, on my way home. It had been to me a day of rarest interest and pleasure, notwithstanding the inclement weather; for no battle-field in our country has stronger claims to the reverence of the American heart than that of the plains of Monmouth.

* Mr. Tennent has left on record the following graphic account of his feelings while his body was in a state of catalepsy: "While I was conversing with my brother on the state of my soul, and the fears I had entertained for my future welfare, I found myself, in an instant, in another state of existence, under the direction of a Superior Being, who ordered me to follow him. I was accordingly wafted along, I know not how, till I beheld at a distance an ineffable glory, the impression of which on my mind it is impossible to communicate to mortal man. I immediately reflected on my happy change, and thought, Well, blessed be God! I am safe at last, notwithstanding all my fears. I saw an innumerable host of happy beings surrounding the inexpressible glory, in acts of adoration and joyous worship; but I did not see any bodily shape or representation in the glorious appearance. I heard things unutterable. I heard their songs and hallelujahs of thanksgiving and praise, with unspeakable rapture. I felt joy unutterable and full of glory. I then applied to my conductor, and requested leave to join the happy throng; on which he tapped me on the shoulder, and said, 'You must return to the earth.' This seemed like a sword through my heart. In an instant I recollect to have seen my brother standing before me disputing with the doctor. The three days during which I had appeared lifeless seemed to me not more than ten or twenty minutes. The idea of returning to this world of sorrow and trouble gave me such a shock, that I fainted repeatedly."--Life of William Tennent, by Elias Boudinot, LL.D.

* Mr. Tennent said that, for three years, the ravishing sounds he had heard and the words that were uttered were not out of his ears. He was often importuned to tell what words were uttered, but declined, saying, "You will know them, with many other particulars, hereafter, as you will find the whole among my papers." Boudinot was with the army when Tennent died, and, before he could reach his house, the family, with all his effects, had gone with a son to South Carolina. He was taken sick about fifty miles from Charleston, and amoung strangers. Although Boudinot was the executor of both father and son he never discovered any of Tennent's papers.

[[[The Pine Robbers.]]]

{368}The men and women of the Revolution, but a few years since numerous in the neighborhood of Freehold, have passed away, but the narrative of their trials during the war have left abiding records of patriotism upon the hearts of their descendants. I listened to many tales concerning the "Pine Robbers" * and other Tory desperadoes of the time, who kept the people of Monmouth county in a state of continual alarm. Many noble deeds of daring were achieved by the tillers of the soil, and their mothers, wives, and sisters; and while the field of Monmouth attested the bravery and endurance of American soldiers, the inhabitants, whose households were disturbed on that Sabbath morning by the bugle and the cannon-peal, exhibited, in their daily course, the loftiest patriotism and manly courage. We will leave the task of recording the acts of their heroism to the pen of the local historian, and, hastening back to Valley Forge, resume the reins and depart for Paoli, for the short November day is fast waning.

* The Pine Robbers were a band of marauding Tories, who infested the large districts of pine woods in the lower part of Monmouth county, whence they made predatory excursions among the Whigs of the neighboring country. They burrowed caves in the sand-hills for places of shelter and retreat, on the borders of swamps, and, covering them with brush, effectually concealed them. From these dens they sallied forth at midnight to burn, plunder, and murder. Nor were the people safe in the daytime, for the scoundrels would often issue from their hiding-places, and fall upon the farmer in his field. The people were obliged to carry muskets while at their work, and their families were kept in a state of continual terror. Of these depredators, the most prominent were Fenton, Fagan, Williams, Debow, West, and Carter. Fenton was the arch-fiend of the pandemonium of the Pines. He was a blacksmith of Freehold, large and muscular. He early took to the business of the Tories, and began his career of villainy by robbery. He plundered a tailor's shop in Freehold township. Already a committee of vigilance was organized. They sent Fenton word that, if he did not return the plunder, he should be hunted and shot. Intimidated, he sent back the clothing, with the following savage note appended: "I have returned your damned rags. In a short time I am coming to burn your barns and houses, and roast you all like a pack of kittens!" Fenton soon proceeded to put his threat into execution. One summer night, at the head of a gang of desperadoes, he attacked the dwelling of an aged man near Imlaytown, named Farr. Himself, wife, and daughter composed the family. They barricaded the door, and kept the scoundrels at bay for a while. Fenton finally broke in a portion of the door, and, firing through the opening, broke the leg of the old man with a musket-ball. They forced an entrance at last, murdered the wife, and then dispatched the helpless old man. The daughter, badly wounded, escaped, and the miscreants, becoming alarmed, fled without taking any plunder with them. Fenton was afterward shot by a young soldier of Lee's legion, then lying at Monmouth court-house. The robber had plundered and beaten a young man while on his way from a mill. He gave information to Lee, who detailed a sergeant and two soldiers to capture or destroy the villain. The young man, and the sergeant disguised as a countryman, took a seat in a wagon, while the two soldiers, armed, were concealed under some straw in the bottom of the vehicle, and proceeded toward the mill, expecting to meet Fenton on the road. From a low groggery among the Pines the robber came out, with a pistol, and commanded them to halt. He then inquired if they had brandy, to which an affirmative was given, and a bottle handed to him. While drinking, one of the soldiers, at a signal from the sergeant, arose, and shot the villain through the head. His body was thrown into the wagon, and conveyed in triumph to Freehold.

* Fagan and West were also shot by the exasperated people. The body of the latter was suspended in chains, with hoop-iron bands around it, upon a chestnut by the road-side, about a mile from Freehold, on the way to Colt's Neck, where it was left to be destroyed by carrion birds. The sufferings of the people from these marauders made such a deep impression, that the lapse of years could not efface it from the hearts of those who felt their scourge, and even the third generation of the families of Tories were objects of hate to some of the surviving sufferers. An old lady, ninety years of age, with whom I conversed at Roundbrook, became greatly excited while talking of what her family endured from the Pine Robbers and other Tories, and spoke indignantly of one or two families in Monmouth eounty who were descendants of Loyalists.

[[[Departure from Valley Forge.--The Paoli Tavern.--Place where Americans were Massacred.]]]

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