Early in the engagement, several hundred Hessians had withdrawn across the Assunpink Bridge and the creek’s upstream fords—the very openings that Ewing’s aborted column had been sent to seal. Rall’s prospects of saving the rest of his command by following suit were dashed after Sullivan’s men swung round the southern end of Trenton. When Rall fell from his horse, mortally wounded, his men swiftly lost heart. Outgunned and hemmed in on three sides, they lowered their regimental colors and laid down their muskets. In just forty-five minutes, Rall’s three crack regiments had been smashed. Some 500—about a third of the garrison—escaped before Washington’s net drew tight, but of the rest, more than 100 had been killed or wounded and 900 captured. Remarkably, given the confused and congested nature of the fighting, Washington’s troops sustained just a handful of killed and wounded.
Elated by this swift victory, Washington pondered his next move. After all their hardships, capped by the adrenalin rush of combat, his men were mentally and physically exhausted. In addition, many of them were toasting their success in captured rum, an understandable reaction to their ordeal, but one that rendered them unfit for further duty. Above all, Washington’s force was perilously small. As he explained to Hancock, if the supporting columns under Brigadiers Ewing and Cadwalader had been able to cross the Delaware, his combined army could have driven the enemy from all their posts below Trenton. But without them he was outnumbered, while the presence of British troops at nearby Princeton only increased the dangers of dawdling in New Jersey. Momentarily satisfied, Washington therefore “thought it most prudent to return” to Pennsylvania, recrossing the Delaware at McConkey’s Ferry with his haul of prisoners and captured cannon that same evening.
Small in scale, Washington’s raid on Trenton had momentous results. Indeed, it would be difficult to exaggerate its significance, in both the short and long term. As Lord Howe’s personal secretary, Ambrose Serle, predicted in his diary on December 27, “the very unpleasant news” of Trenton would “tend to revive the drooping spirits of the rebels and increase their force.” Days later, Captain Ewald of the jägers noted reports that the rebel army had since swollen to 16,000 men. Ewald didn’t credit them, but they were nonetheless symptomatic of the psychological change wrought, almost overnight, by Washington’s “coup.” He observed: “Since we had thus far underestimated our enemy, from this unhappy day onward we saw everything through a magnifying glass.”22
By following his warrior instincts and attacking the enemy when the first opportunity presented itself, Washington had not only given a timely boost to American morale but gone far to restore his own self-esteem following the defeats and humiliations of the past year. Victory was all the sweeter because it had been won over the fearsome Hessians, who’d played such a prominent role in his darkest hour, the loss of Fort Washington. For all their unbending Prussian-style discipline, bristling mustaches, and tall, brass-fronted caps, even they were not invincible.
Washington’s euphoria was clear in the ungrudging tributes he paid to his men, which provide a striking contrast to the biting criticisms that had peppered his correspondence following the routs at Long Island and Kip’s Bay. Reporting his victory to Hancock on December 27, he wrote that the behavior of officers and men alike reflected the “highest honor upon them.” But it was Washington’s General Orders, issued that same day, which gave the clearest sign of his intense, personal satisfaction:
The General, with the utmost sincerity and affection, thanks the officers and soldiers for their spirited and gallant behavior at Trenton yesterday. It is with inexpressible pleasure that he can declare, that he did not see a single instance of bad behavior in either officers or privates; and that if any fault could be found, it proceeded from a too great eagerness to push forward upon the enemy.23
Having lauded his men, Washington seized the moment to appeal to those whose terms of enlistment were due to expire at the year’s end, urging them to stay on for long enough to maintain the momentum of the counterattack. As they had “begun the glorious work of driving the enemy,” he hoped that they would “not now turn their backs upon them, and leave the business half finished at this important crisis, a crisis, which may, more than probably determine the fate of America.”
Learning that Cadwalader and his Philadelphians had managed to cross the Delaware on December 27, and that other militia units were coalescing in lower New Jersey, Washington decided to capitalize upon the shock waves that news of Trenton had sent through the enemy’s garrisons. On December 30, despite appalling conditions, he crossed the Delaware once more and began concentrating his troops at their old battleground of Trenton. There he followed up his recent General Orders with a far more direct appeal to the men whose enlistments would soon be up.
Although Washington disliked making speeches, he addressed each regiment in person, spiking his patriotic rhetoric with an offer of hard cash: on his own initiative and trusting that Congress would give retrospective approval, he offered a substantial bounty of $10 to any man willing to extend his service for a further six weeks. Washington’s weary, homesick Continentals were not easily swayed. Sergeant Nathaniel Root of the Connecticut troops recalled how the commander in chief opened by highlighting the victory at Trenton and emphasized that “we could now do more for our country than we ever could at any future period; and in the most affectionate manner entreated us to stay.” But when the drums beat for volunteers, the sergeant continued, not a man stepped forward. Undeterred, Washington tried again, dramatically wheeling his horse about and delivering a forceful and heartfelt speech from the saddle: “My brave fellows, you have done all I asked you to do, and more than can be reasonably expected; but your country is at stake, your wives, your houses, and all that you hold dear. You have worn yourselves out with fatigues and hardships, but we know not how to spare you.” By consenting to stay on for the short spell requested, they would render an unequaled service to their country and to the “cause of liberty.” At this, a few in Sergeant Root’s 20th Continental Regiment stepped forward, followed immediately by almost all who were still fit for duty.24
Including the New Englanders with Cadwalader’s column at Crosswicks who agreed to soldier on and the Virginians whose enlistments continued until February 1778, about 3,000 Continentals remained. Many others had already endured enough, and no amount of fine words from Washington or his officers could keep them from going off. They included young John Greenwood: promised promotion to ensign, he bluntly retorted that he “would not stay to be a colonel.” In his memoirs, Greenwood explained his decision: “I had the itch then so badly that my breeches stuck to my thighs, all the skin being off, and there were hundreds of vermin upon me.” Clutching a tasseled, brass-hilted sword taken from the Hessians at Trenton, Greenwood journeyed home to Boston, ultimately joining a privateer under the celebrated Commodore Manley. As Benjamin Rush had predicted, many other New Englanders succumbed to the lure of the sea and the prospect of rich hauls of prize money, including most of Colonel Glover’s Marblehead Regiment.25
Washington was realistic enough to recognize that for all his appeals to patriotic duty, the cash bounty had been the decisive factor in preserving the kernel of a viable army: reporting to Hancock on New Year’s Day, 1777, he conceded that such an unorthodox advance was inconvenient, but unavoidable. “The troops felt their importance,” he wrote, “and would have their price.” He added: “Indeed, as their aid is so essential and not to be dispensed with, it is to be wondered, they had not estimated it at a higher rate.” No sooner had Washington authorized the emergency payment than he received confirmation that Congress, on December 27, had already approved of his action by granting the extraordinary powers that he’d requested a week earlier. Although Congress avoided the emotive title, several commentators styled him “dictator.” The devoted Nathanael Greene enthused that Washington had been granted “full powers to do and act as he thinks proper, to make such establishments and take such measures as the safety and interest of the states may require.” Al
though these powers fell short of dictatorial, they were extensive enough: Washington had the right to raise sixteen new regiments of Continental infantry, along with 3,000 cavalrymen and fresh artillery units; significantly, the commander in chief, rather than the individual states, would personally appoint or demote all officers below the rank of brigadier general. He could also requisition supplies and deal with “disaffected” civilians—those loyal to King George—requiring them to swear allegiance to Congress or leave their home states. These powers were to last for a maximum of six months. Acknowledging this “honorable mark of distinction,” Washington assured Hancock that he had no intention of exceeding his military authority and shrugging off “all civil obligations.” On the contrary, as he informed the Executive Committee of Congress, “as the sword was the last resort for the preservation of our liberties, so it ought to be the first thing laid aside, when those liberties are firmly established.”26
In his dispatch to Hancock, Washington revealed that he and his generals were “concerting a plan of operations” to be executed as soon as possible and which would hopefully be “attended with some success.” This phrasing suggested another attack to second that already made upon Trenton. Such boldness was all the more remarkable given that Washington’s most reliable intelligence revealed that General Howe in New York had reacted to news of Trenton by authorizing a formidable counterattack, with 5,000–6,000 men already concentrated at Princeton.
In fact, that same day, January 1, 1777, one of Howe’s best officers, Lord Cornwallis, had arrived at the little college town to assume command. Including the reinforcement he had brought with him, his force actually totaled about 8,000 redcoats and Hessians, with twenty-eight guns. Cornwallis had been about to go home on leave to visit his gravely sick wife, Jemima, when Howe suddenly recalled him to stabilize the situation in western New Jersey; he therefore had strong personal as well as professional reasons for eliminating Washington’s army without delay.
For his fresh “plan of operations” Washington could draw upon a strong force of more than 6,500 men, with a very powerful artillery train of forty guns: besides his remaining Continentals, there were another 3,600 militia downriver at Crosswicks and Bordentown under Brigadier Generals Cadwalader and Thomas Mifflin. Late on New Year’s Day, following a council of war, urgent orders were dispatched for them to march their brigades to Trenton without delay, and they came in the following morning.27 Washington’s decision to gather his troops in “an exposed place,” dangerously close to a strong enemy force, was influenced by knowledge that retreat into Pennsylvania would undo much of what had already been achieved, “destroying every dawn of hope which had begun to revive in the breasts of the Jersey militia.”28 In addition, the plan exploited a prime piece of intelligence that Cadwalader had communicated on New Year’s Eve and which Washington and his commanders must have considered during their deliberations next day.
Drawing upon information supplied by a “very intelligent young gentleman” familiar with Princeton, Cadwalader made a detailed map of the vicinity; crucially, this revealed the presence of a little-used farmer’s track, the Saw Mill Road; connecting with the Quaker Bridge Road, it approached Princeton from an undefended direction rather than by the main Post Road to Trenton, a front that the British had fortified with redoubts. The chance to exploit this nugget would depend upon Washington’s ability to fend off the impending blow from Cornwallis. On the morning of January 2, he arrayed most of his troops and guns along the east side of Assunpink Creek, stretching for some three miles from its junction with the Delaware River to cover the fords upstream. It was a formidable position—the very one that Colonel Rall’s many critics believed he should have adopted on the fateful December 26. In addition, an elite detachment of about 1,000 men, including Colonel Hand’s regiment of riflemen, Captain Forrest’s gun battery, and other Continental units, had been pushed far up the Princeton Road to slow the British advance; these troops had already clashed with Hessian jägers and redcoat light infantry on January 1, where the Eight Mile Run stream crossed the highway, defending the “pass” stubbornly until a reinforcement of grenadiers obliged them to fall back.29
As anticipated, Cornwallis began his march to Trenton early next day. He left a 1,500-strong brigade of three infantry regiments and a detachment of dragoons at Princeton to guard his rear, with instructions for two of the battalions to follow on the next day. En route, another 1,500 men were left at Maidenhead, with similar orders to move up later. Cornwallis meanwhile pushed on with his main column of about 5,500 troops. From the start, its progress was hindered by heavy mud that clogged the high road and the fields to either side and, beyond Maidenhead, by the same defending force that had proved so troublesome the previous morning. Backed by musket-armed Continentals and Forrest’s well-served guns, at Shabakunk Run, within three miles of Trenton, Hand’s riflemen forced Cornwallis to deploy his men from column of march into line of battle: a time-consuming business. Although his casualties were light, it took Cornwallis ten long hours to cover as many miles. Another determined stand, supervised by Washington and Greene, was mounted on the outskirts of Trenton before the delaying force finally fell back through the town and across the bridge over Assunpink Creek, covered by artillery on the east bank. By the time Cornwallis arrived with his main body, the light was dwindling fast. As the earl “displayed his column,” arraying his battalions in line, it seemed to Major James Wilkinson that “a crisis in the affairs of the Revolution” had been reached. Rival gun crews now traded fire in a prolonged and “pretty smart cannonade,” and skirmishes flickered in the twilight.30
British and Hessian units probed the creek at the lower ford and bridge but were thwarted by Washington’s massed guns and infantry. Cornwallis summoned a council of war to consider whether to continue operations or postpone them until daylight. Given the risks of a frontal assault upon such a strongly defended position and the difficulties of maneuvering in the darkness to turn Washington’s right flank, Cornwallis opted to give his exhausted men a much-needed rest, then “bag the fox” in the morning.31
While the British settled in for the night, Washington called another council of war, at the headquarters of the Scottish veteran Major General Arthur St. Clair. Although well posted to rebuff a direct attack, the army was vulnerable to a flanking move that would pin it against the Delaware River. A retreat to Philadelphia via Bordentown was likewise risky. Major Wilkinson, who was serving as an aide to St. Clair but did not attend the meeting, was told that Washington, “yielding to his natural propensities,” had been ready to hazard everything on a “general engagement.” St. Clair later claimed that it was he who “had the good fortune to suggest” the bold alternative “of turning the left of the enemy in the night,” and he was “forcibly” supported by his countryman Hugh Mercer. Washington, who may have been contemplating such a move himself, “highly approved it,” and not a single council member dissented.32 Under cover of darkness, the army would give Cornwallis the slip, take the back road to Princeton, and attack the isolated British brigade still waiting there. If all went well, it might be possible to push on and capture the crucial British supply depot at Brunswick. As Washington reported to Hancock, this would avoid the “appearance of a retreat . . . or run the hazard of the whole army being cut off” while also offering a chance to “give some reputation to our arms.”33
Leaving several hundred men as decoys to keep the camp fires burning, shout challenges, wield pickaxes, and generally create the illusion that his lines remained occupied, Washington’s force moved out in silence, the wheels of its cannon muffled in cloth. Like Howe at Long Island, Cornwallis was oblivious to this stealthy withdrawal. Captain Ewald wryly described the dénouement: “We intended to renew the battle at daybreak, but Washington spared us the trouble.” When dawn came they were surprised to discover that “this clever man” was gone. At that very same moment, Ewald continued, “we heard a heavy cannonade in our rear.” Cornwallis’s command turned out an
d marched off at the “quick step” toward the sound of the guns. But by then Washington had already landed his blow.34
In one long column led by local guides, Washington’s men and guns started moving out from their defensive positions facing Trenton at midnight. Owing to a sharp drop in temperature, the mud that had hampered Cornwallis’s advancing troops was now frozen solid and capable of supporting the weight of artillery. The intense dark of the night helped screen the withdrawal but also contributed to a potentially disastrous episode when a regiment of Pennsylvania militia in the rear panicked and fled after mistaking another American formation for Hessians.35 Their fear infected several other bodies of nervous militia, but the rest of the column pushed on grimly through the early hours of January 3, 1777, the troops often halting to drag cannon over tree stumps.
The going was easier after the column struck the Quaker Bridge Road, and shortly before 7 a.m. they reached Stony Brook, some three miles from Princeton, having already covered about twelve miles. Here, while getting his guns across the stream, Washington reorganized his force for the final assault: as at Trenton, there would be converging divisions, intended to swing wide and encircle the enemy. Such dispersal was risky, and it assumed that the redcoats would obligingly stay put at Princeton. According to Captain Thomas Rodney of Delaware’s Dover Light Infantry Company, Major General Sullivan was “ordered to wheel to the right and flank the town on that side”; another force, of two brigades, played a similar role to the left; on its march it was to demolish the bridge that carried the Post Road over Stony Brook, thereby stopping the British garrison from leaving Princeton by that route or being reinforced from Trenton. A third column, formed of Mercer’s weak brigade of Continentals backed by Cadwalader’s much larger brigade of Philadelphia militia “was to march straight on to Princeton without turning to the right or left.”36 During the halt, Sergeant Joseph White of the Massachusetts Artillery recalled, each man in his company was ordered to drink half a gill from a bucket full of rum mixed with gunpowder. White “took a little” of the potent concoction, reputedly the favored tipple of the pirate Edward Teach, alias “Blackbeard.”37
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