Give 'em Watts!

"The zeal of Presbyterians during the war exposed them to special cruelties at the hands of the British soldiery. Among the foremost patriots of that day was the Rev. James Caldwell, pastor of the Presbyterian church of Elizabethtown, N. J.

'Descended from the Huguenots,' writes the Rev. Dr. Sprague in his Annals, 'and imbibing the spirit of the Scotch Covenanters, he may be said to have inherited a feeling of opposition to tyrants. Connected with his congregation were the Daytons, the Ogdens, Francis Barber, William Crane, Oliver Spencer, Elias Boudinot, William Livingston, Abram Clark, and others who became eminent for their wisdom, piety, valor and patriotism.'

When the news of the passage of the Declaration of Independence reached the New Jersey brigade, of which he was chaplain, the men were called together, and Parson Caldwell gave this toast: 'Harmony, honor and all prosperity to the free and independent United States of America; wise legislators, brave and victorious armies, both by sea and land, to the United States of America.'  His church was given up to be used as a hospital for the sick. Its bell sounded the alarm on the approach of the foe.

In an attack upon Springfield, when the wadding [strips of paper or cloth necessary for the proper loading of a musket] of the patriots gave out, Caldwell ran to the Presbyterian church; and returning with his arms and pockets filled with Watts Psalms and Hymns, he scattered them among the soldiers, exclaiming, 'Now, boys, give them Watts!'

In vexation at his patriotism, British officers offered large rewards for his capture. Failing in this, the British soldiery set fire to his church and shot his wife through the window of her own room in the midst of her nine children, dragged her bleeding corpse into the street and laid the house and other surrounding buildings in ashes. The following poem by Bret Harte tells the story:

'Here’s the spot. Look around you. Above on the height

Lay the Hessians encamped. By that church on the right

Stood the gaunt 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 ninety-three years 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,

For he loved the Lord God, and he hated King George.

'He had cause, you may say. When the Hessians that day

Marched up with Knyphusen, they stopped on the way

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, flowers blow

Pretty much as they did ninety-three years ago.

You may dig anywhere, and you’ll turn up a ball,

But not always a hero like this; and that’s all.'" ¹

Christ, not man, is King!

Dale

1)  W.P. Breed, Presbyterians and the Revolution (Philadelphia, PA: Presbyterian Board of Publication, 1876), pp. 79-82