“My vanity once more got ascendancy over my reason”

Yesterday I started to quote Ens. George Eld’s account of the Crown raid on Paramus, New Jersey, which started on 23 Mar 1780.

Most of the fighting took place on 24 March as British and Hessian units attacked the Continental positions and then withdrew, pursued by an enemy force.

Eld was in charge of part of the rear guard, and starting to resent his commander, Lt. Col. John Howard, for not providing more support.

The ensign’s account continues as the British column reached the Hackensack River:

we arrived at a Bridge; so great was Howards confusion, that as the rear Guard was crossing the Bridge, he was threatening the trembling Owner of the adjacent house, with death & destruction if he did not take up the planks of the Bridge—

as this was impossible, our army not chooseing to make the attempt & the Owner of the house from inclination not intending to do it, I volunteered the duty & promised Coll. Howard to destroy the Bridge. I never professed myself a volunteer for any duty, but on this occasion I had two reasons for my Conduct.

The first reason arose from my having perceived that the Enemy were bringing Cannon & horse—the whole weight of which must have been sustained by the rear guard, the other was, vanity; the vanity of attempting that danger, which a whole army had avoided—

I now called the Light Infantry, which composed the rear Guard to assist me, but so great was the panic, that only FOUR remained.—

Capn. [Francis] Dundass hearing my voice joined me as did Capns. [David] Anstruther & [George] Dennis with one private of the 43d. & 2 privates of the 42d. Regt. The Hessian detachment perceiving our intentions formed on a small rise & covered our attempt—Under a very heavy fire, we effected our design, by dislodging the planks—which effectually prevented the horse & feild pieces from following our line of March.

As this was done in the full view of the whole army, my vanity once more got ascendancy over my reason, inducing me to remain the last on the Bridge—In our retreating from the Bridge—three of the Light Infantry were killed, one of the 42 & 43—Capn. A: was wounded—Lt. Dennis slightly—Dundass & myself escaped.—

For having thus destroyed the Bridge, which rendered the rest of the retreat safe & easy—Capn. Dundass & myself recd. in public orders the thanks of Genl. [Edward] Mathew, the Commanding Officer at Kings bridge—as also Genl. [Wilhelm von] Knyphausen’s thanks Commr. in Chief at New York.

We now (March 24th. 5 o’clock even’g) recrossed the North river, after a march of 40 miles thro’ the enemys Country—We took 1 Capn. & 100 privates—our loss must have been nearly 300—

As usual, as the sources in Rees’s overview show, the two sides disagreed on who had come out best and how many casualties the other side suffered. Eld’s account was unusual in wildly overstating his own side’s losses. 

As for Eld’s memory of being praised for his brave action, Col. Howard did report:

After crossing the River Hackinsack, I ordered the Bridge to be broke down to prevent the Rebels passing it; in this Service Capts. Dundass and Elde of the Light Infantry were particularly active themselves taking up the Boards under the Enemy’s Fire.

However, Rees also quotes Knyphausen’s general orders, and he thanked five other officers—but not Eld or Dundas. Eld’s vanity may have affected his memory. 

(The picture above shows Francis Dundas, who went on to be a general and acting governor of the Cape Colony.)

A Raid on “a place called Paramus”

On 23 Mar 1780, Ens. George Eld of the Coldstream Guards’ light infantry company again went into battle against the rebels surrounding New York City again.

I’ve used Eld’s diary, published by the Boston Public Library, as a source for descriptions of some earlier skirmishes in 1780: at Hatfield’s house in Morrisania, at Young’s house near White Plains, and in a coffee house.

On the March 1780 operation, John U. Rees already wrote a detailed narrative and analysis with maps and pictures for the Continental Line: “‘So much for a Scotch Prize’: Paramus, New Jersey, 23 March 1780.” So I recommend reading that for an overview.

I’m just sharing Eld’s personal perspective on that fight as a junior officer.

March 23d.—At six in the evening a detachmt. of 600 commanded by Lt. Coll. [John] Howard marched to Spithim Devil creek, from whence at about ten they embarked in flat bottom boats and landed at 1/2 past twelve at Kloster lock in the Jersies—

having marched till seven in the morning I was sent forward with 60 Light Infantry to attack a rebel Picquet, on the right of the main body of the rebels who were advantageously posted & fortified in a Church Yard at a place called Paramus—the Picqt. was placed at the edge of a wood with a plain of half an mile in the rear,—

I surprized the Picq. which instantly fled & the most famous chase over the plain ensued—we were in at the death of seven.—I had given orders that my Party should not fire but use their Bayonets—notwithstanding the Main Body Being apprized of Coll. Howards attack, fled into the woods—

I fired at an Officer who was mounted, who to save himself cast away his saddle bags—which contained above 27.000 Dollars, paper Currny, orders, letters, &ca the dollars, (reserv a few thousd. for myself) I sold for a farthing each & distributed to the men—

Ens. Eld wasn’t alone in seizing valuables for himself. Rees quotes Pvt. Johann Dohla of the Bayreuth Regiment, who was on this same raid:

My booty, which I had been fortunate enough to retain, consisted of two silver pocket watches, three silver buckles, one pair of women’s white cotton stockings, one pair of men’s summer stockings, two men’s and four women’s shirts of fine English linen, two fine tablecloths, one silver food and tea spoon, five Spanish dollars and six York shillings in money, eleven complete mattress covers of fine linen, and more than two dozen pieces of silk fabric, as well as six silver plates and one silver drinking cup, all tied together in a pack which, because of the hasty march, I had to throw away.

But I digress. Back to Ens. Eld:

after a tiresome pursuit, I rejoined Coll. H. who immediately retreated—On our return which was by a different route, we were joined by a detachment of the 42d. Regt. & Hessians & 43d.—

The Rebels now collected & began to harrass our rear—I had the Command of the rear Guard—Capn. [Francis] Dundass flanked—the road in which we marched was wide & walled on each side—the road being a continuation of sudden hills—the main Body was little annoyed—& afforded me an opportunity of disputing each heighth—

the rebels made three charges & each time were repulsed—their loss was as ten to one—Coll. Howards retreat was so precipitate that he never once detached a party to my support; fortunately for me, the rebels now changed their attack to the left of our line of march—they now flanked from behind trees, &ca with the greatest security—the road on that side being open & a narrow & impassable swamp immediately adjoining it; thus we retreated, annoyed by a constant fire, with great loss—which produced a general confusion, Coll. Howard neglecting to give any orders—

One gets the sense that Eld was not happy with Col. Howard (shown above later in life, after he had succeeded to the Earldom of Suffolk).

TOMORROW: Ens. Eld on the bridge.

The Battle for Young’s House

Yesterday I recounted the British army’s march in February 1780 from their lines at King’s Bridge, New York, up to Joseph Young’s farmhouse in White Plains.

The Continental Army had moved into that stone house and used it as a base to impede food shipments into British-occupied New York. That winter, the outpost was under the command of Lt. Col. Joseph Thompson of Brimfield.

According to Gen. William Heath’s report on the fighting, Thompson had five companies under him, led by Capt. Abraham Watson of Cambridge, Capt. Moses Roberts of Marlborough, Capt. Orringh Stoddard of Stockbridge, Capt.-Lt. Michael Farley of Ipswich, and Capt. James Cooper of Taunton. During the night, those companies were spread out two miles and more on each side of the house.

At about nine o’clock on the morning of 3 February a mounted scout named Campbell told Thompson that he’d spotted Crown horsemen about two miles away. The lieutenant colonel decided to maintain his position and sent orders for the companies to consolidate with him.

The British force came closer. In the morning’s first exchange of fire, the Loyalist mounted troops overran and captured a sergeant and eight men serving as a forward guard. Then the horsemen came in sight of the stone house. As Watson, Roberts, and Stoddard’s companies drew up in the garden, British guard units appeared, about two hundred strong.

Heath reported:

Our Troops preserved their order and did not fire untill Some time after the Enemy began; when they received orders to fire the Enemy immediately Scattered, availing themselves of Trees and the Ground, of which, it must be acknowleged, they very judiciously took the advantage, Springing from one tree & place to another, and constantly gaining Ground—

On the British side, Ens. George Eld described a “a spirited & brisk conflict of firing, during which time our detachment formed more collectedly than at the first advance was possible to effect, from the depth of the snow.” Then “the Light Infantry Horn sounded the charge.”

Lt. Col. Chapple Norton’s British companies advanced from multiple directions. Heath wrote: “their fire being directed both against the front and flank of our Troops—and, a number being kill’d & wounded they broke, Some retreating up the road, others into the House, from the doors & windows of which they fired on the Enemy.” The remaining two Continental companies arrived and fired from a distance two or three times, but to little effect.

As Americans fled into the woods, horsemen charged after them. Heath later wrote of “Mayhew, a pedler, well known in Massachusetts,” who veered off the road into the snow, “almost up to his hips.” Two riders charged down his path. He called out to ask if they would ”give him quarter”—let him surrender.

“Yes, you dog, we will quarter you,” the pursuers reportedly answered. Mayhew turned and shot at the first rider. The man shouted, “The rascal has broke my leg!" Both the horsemen turned around. Mayhew waited a few moments, waded out to the road, and got back to the Continental lines.

Back at Young’s house, the Crown forces swarmed over the grounds. Lt. Col. Thompson surrendered. Fourteen of his men were dead, including Capt. Roberts, and seventeen were wounded, some badly. More of the British column, including the Hessian companies, arrived to help corraling nearly a hundred prisoners.

Ens. Eld wrote in his diary: “The house was fired & many of the enemy who had retreated for security to the cellars were crushed in the burning ruins.” However, American and other British sources on the scene don’t mention men being caught in the flames. Instead, Norton ordered the buildings burned to prevent them from being used again.

Casualty reports vary, but it appears the British suffered five dead in all and eighteen wounded. They had successfully pushed the nearest Continental outpost back to “the Quaker church on King’s Street,” according to Maj. Carl Leopold Baurmeister of the Hessians. Lt. Col. Norton’s gamble to proceed with the mission had paid off.

Leaving Young’s house and outbuilding in flames, the redcoats began the twenty-mile trek back through the winter landscape to their lines. This time they could use the roads. They left up to a dozen of the worst wounded prisoners at houses along the way to avoid being slowed down. Lt. George Mathew wrote with pride, “we marched a good forty-six miles in twenty-four hours, in deep snow, and across the country to avoid giving the alarm. . . . We left Kingsbridge at ten o’clock one night, and returned about the same hour the next.”

Once all the Crown soldiers were gone, Continentals ventured back out to the site to collect and bury the dead and then withdraw again. The photograph above, courtesy of M. A. Kleen, shows the 1923 memorial standing near the site of the mass grave for those soldiers.

Marching Over Twenty Miles through the Snow

On Friday, 2 Feb 1780, the British army holding New York City set out to attack a Continental outpost that had become troublesome.

Charles Stedman described the situation this way in 1794:

The enemy having established a post at [Joseph] Young’s House, in the neighbourhood of the White Plains, which greatly annoyed the provincial loyalists, as well as the British army, by the interception of cattle and provisions intended to be brought to New York, it became an object of importance with the governor [Lord Tryon] and commander of his majesty’s troops [Gen. Henry Clinton], if possible, to dislodge that party, consisting of about three hundred men.

Maj. Gen. Edward Mathew, who was in command at the forward position of King’s Bridge, assigned this mission to Lt. Col. Chapple Norton of the 2nd Foot Guards. Norton was given command of the grenadier and light infantry companies of the Guards’ 1st and 2nd regiments, two Hessian companies, two three-pounder cannon with their crews, a contingent of Jäger scouts, and forty horsemen from Col. James De Lancey’s Loyalist regiment, many of them familiar with the area. In all, the force consisted of well over 500 men.

Young’s house was a little more than twenty miles away across the snowy landscape. Gen. Mathew therefore arranged for sleighs to be brought to his base. Stedman wrote about Norton’s response:

The colonel, though highly gratified by this command, and unwilling to say any thing that might seem to retard the service, or throw difficulties in the way of the intended expedition, yet thought it his duty to point out the improbability of the sleighs answering the purpose

In response, Mathew gave Norton the freedom—and responsibility—to decide how to proceed based on conditions in the field.

According to Mathew’s nineteen-year-old nephew and aide-de-camp, Lt. George Mathew, the raiding party “left Kingsbridge at ten o’clock one night.” They set a course “across the country to avoid giving the alarm, which we should have done by going by the road.”

“The night was dark,” Ens. George Eld wrote in his diary. But as for the sleighs, “these conveyances were immediately quitted, for the cold was too intense to remain inactive, nor was it possible for the horses to get through the snow.”

The snow, up to two feet deep, also blocked the cannon carriages. According to Stedman, Norton “was therefore obliged to leave the guns and with them a guard sufficient to ensure their return.” The colonel estimated his troops ”were yet short of three Miles from Kingsbridge” in a report Todd W. Braisted quoted at the Journal of the American Revolution.

Lt. Mathew described another set of obstacles:

This being a very stony country, and the stones at this time being covered with snow, threw our men down often. Another thing, which tires very much on a long march, is getting over rails, which is the only fence used in this country. The pioneers took them down until they were tired, and were left behind.

The slow progress threw off Norton’s plan. As Lt. Mathew wrote, ”The intention was to have surprised them by night.” But, Stedman stated, “At sun rise they learned from the guides that they were yet seven miles short of the enemy’s post.”

Lt. Col. Norton reviewed the situation. Stedman wrote:

Their situation was, now, not a little embarrassing. As the guns, intended to open the doors of the stone house, were left behind, to surprise the enemy was impossible. To proceed, and not to carry the point, would be to expose the detachment, in their return, already fatigued with a long and toilsome march, to be harassed for the space of twenty miles, by an enemy in force, fresh, and with a perfect knowledge of the country.

In these circumstances, the colonel, unwilling to return without accomplishing some object that might answer the expectation of those who had placed their confidence in him, determined, at all events, to march to the enemy's post, and then act according to circumstances

In sum, the colonel saw all the difficulties and dangers ahead and decided to go forward anyway because it would have been too embarrassing to turn around.

About two miles from Young’s house, Norton ordered his cavalry to advance and surround the site, but the snow was too deep to allow that. The Crown forces arrived within sight of Young’s house “two hours after daybreak,” Mathew recalled. Since there was “a fine, open country about the house,” the Continentals spotted the British coming.

Some of the British, at least. Officers guessed that only about two hundred of the Crown soldiers were on the scene by this point. Almost half the guards and the Hessian companies had fallen behind.

And in front of them, the British saw a stone house, “strongly & advantageously situated,” and more than two hundred Continental soldiers, “judiciously disposed to annoy or prevent the attack.”

TOMORROW: Shots fired.

Ens. Eld Stops into a New York Coffeehouse

After participating in the skirmish over prisoners in the Westchester “neutral ground” on 18-19 Jan 1780, as I’ve been describing, Ens. George Eld of the Coldstream Guards went into New York City.

He might have expected a respite from fighting. Instead, this is what he wrote in his diary:

21st. Rode to New York. At twelve at night entering the Coffee house I was accosted by Lt. [Kenneth] Callender of the 42d. Regt., (with whom I had no acquaintance) who insolently asked me if I would drink some punch—I declined the offer, on this he observed, “ubi periculum ibi est gloria” [where there is risk of glory] & asked me if I wanted a translation—

I told him, no, but requested an explanation—

on this he drew a small sword—

I also drew mine which was a very short couteau [dagger]—

he perceived the superiority he possessed from the difference of the weapons, which seemed to stimulate his cowardice to the attack which he began by two lunges, which having parried, with all the fury & vigor I possessed I returned by cutting at him, without paying any attention to a guard—

he retreated the length of the Coffee house—I had now beat the point of his sword down & intended to have killed him, but was prevented by Capn. Peerie, who seized hold of my wrist & arrested the stroke—

I told him his interference was unmanly & ungentlemanlike as the contest was not finished—by this time some officers had taken Capn. Callenders sword from him—I declared if any person presumed to touch my sword I would run him thro’ the body.—

Capns. Peerie & Callender next morning asked my pardon.—I afterwards was informed that Capn. C.— being an uncommon good swordsman often insulted strangers in a similar manner.—

The disgrace he experienced from this contest, in some measure cured him.

I can’t identify “Capn. Peerie.” It’s possible he was another British army officer, a British naval officer, a privateer commander, or a Loyalist officer.

Adding to the uncertainty is how Ens. Eld didn’t know the other officers’ ranks—he referred to Callender as both a lieutenant and a captain, but the only officer of that surname in the 42nd Regiment was an ensign. That reflects how British army company officers didn’t wear insignia showing their rank. Fellow officers were just supposed to know.

After the war, Eld had a copy Lt. Col. Banastre Tarleton’s book about his southern campaign rebound with extra blank pages. Eld started to write his own commentary in that volume, as well as extracts from a journal. That book came to the Boston Public Library in 1879, and Eld’s writings were published by the Massachusetts Historical Society in 1880 and the Boston Public Library in 1892.

The Fighting Ground “between the Enemy & the American force”

Asa Lord was born on 29 June 1760 in Saybrook, Connecticut. Around the time he turned sixteen, he signed up for a few months of military service, and he continued to do short-term stints as the war continued.

Lord was eighteen years old in April 1779 when he enlisted in a Connecticut regiment for nine months. He was sent to Horseneck or Greenwich, on Long Island Sound, “employed in guarding the lines between the Enemy & the American force & in preparing materials for entrenchments.”

In January 1780 Lord was one of the Connecticut militiamen who raided the Morrisania, New York, house of Isaac Hatfield, Jr., a lieutenant colonel in the Loyalist militia, as I’ve been describing. Decades later Lord’s pension application stated:

On the 17th day of January, About one hundred & ten of their Soldiers, volunteered to go down to Morisena & Attack a British Guard Stationed there. They put themselves under Capt. Samuel Lockwood. They started about noon of the 17th—And about one oclock the next morning, attacked the Said Guard in front of their quarters. A hot engagement ensued & they finale killed most of the British guard, took nine or ten prisoners & Started on their retreat

However, one of the Loyalist officers who had been staying with Hatfield, Maj. Thomas Huggeford (also spelled Huggerford and Hungerford), slipped away from the Connecticut men. Someone who knew him after the war described Huggeford as “a large, fleshy, middle-aged man, active and humane,” but evidently he could move with stealth and speed.

The story continues in James Rivington’s Royal Gazette:

Major Huggerford soon after effected his escape, and returning, formed a small body of Refugees, consisting of thirty-five Dragoons, and twenty-eight Infantry, under the command of Capt. [Henry] Purdy, instantly pursuing the rebels with this detachment.

The Infantry took post upon the heights, beyond East Chester, and the mounted, consisting of Cornet Hilat, Adjutant [John] Pugsley, two Serjeants, and twenty-nine privates, under the command of Lieut. [Samuel] Kipp, continued the pursuit, and came up with their rear between New-Rochelle and Mamarroneck…

Because the Loyalists in that militia all came from the same communities, they had many ties. For example, captured with Isaac Hatfield was his sister Mary’s husband, Moses Knapp. The lieutenant who led the pursuing light horsemen, Samuel Kipp, was a brother-in-law of another of Isaac Hatfield’s sisters, Abigail. And eventually Samuel Kipp married Mary Knapp, daughter of Moses and Mary—i.e., his brother’s sister-in-law’s daughter.

Despite that strong motivation to rescue their friends and relatives, the pursuers were too late to free the men whom the Americans had taken captive. Isaac Hatfield stated that he was “carried to New England; [and] remained Prisoner about 3 months.”

But others in the raiding party moved more slowly, as Gen. William Heath wrote:

The militia after conducting this enterprize with much address and gallantry imprudently loitered in their retreat, were pursued & overtaken by a party of light Horse, a number of them shockingly cut

Rivington’s newspaper reported that the Loyalists had “killed 23, and took 40 prisoners, some of whom are wounded.” Furthermore:

We are assured that the only weapon used by Major Huggerford and his determined band of Refugees, in their attack and defeat of Capt. Lockwood’s party, was the Sabre,---and had not their horses been jaded to a stand-still, every one of the enemy would have fallen into their hands.

Among the prisoners was Asa Lord, who recalled in his 1832 pension application:

Between nine & ten oclock in the morning of the 18th Jany. they were overtaken by a detachment of Queens Guards, many of the Americans killed & the Declarant & Eight others taken prisoners, carried to New York & confined in The Old Sugar House. The Declarant was confined there ten months & three days.—He was then exchanged.

Yet another view of this clash comes from George Eld, who had joined the Coldstream Guards as an ensign—the equivalent of a second lieutenant—in March 1776. A copy of his diary is owned by the Boston Public Library.

The Coldstream Guards were sent to New York in 1779. Since Eld was born in America, that was some sort of homecoming, but unfortunately we don’t seem to have any information about exactly where or when he was born.

Ens. Eld was stationed on the British lines outside New York City, and at the start of 1780 he was put in command of a light infantry company. In his diary he wrote:

The two Light Infantry Companies of the Guards with the mounted refugees were ordered out under the Command of Colo. [Francis] Hall—after a march of 25 miles fell in with their [the enemy’s] rear guard—a trifling but general contest ensued—nine rebels were killed, sixteen taken prisoners, many wounded.—The rebels now appeared to the amount of 800, when on our taking an advantageous situation they retired—

we returned 12 miles & remained the night in some log houses & returned to the lines on being joined by a detachment sent out to Cover Our retreat.

That was the end of this seesaw skirmish in the “neutral ground” of Westchester County. Because there was so much territory between the army lines, such raids meant long marches—the Connecticut lieutenant colonel Matthew Mead wrote of his men marching “30 miles out,” and Ens. Eld recorded a 25-mile march and an overnight stop on the way back. And at the end of all the fighting, both sides had seen some men killed and more taken prisoner.

TOMORROW: Ens. Eld in the city.