Calvin’s Crusaders in the Wars That Made America: The Story of Nathaniel and Isabella Scudder—Princeton Patriots of the Revolutionary Era

By David T. Fisher

Nathaniel Scudder, a well-educated Presbyterian physician, was an idealistic early advocate of the rebellion. Like many of his fellow graduates of the College of New Jersey (later Princeton University) he believed in the Calvinist vision of a pious republic. His wife, Isabella Anderson Scudder, a wealthy heiress and granddaughter of a royal governor, reluctantly accepted her husband's radical political inclinations while fearing the tragic consequences that might result.

After a brilliant career as a physician and elder of the Presbyterian Church, he was elected to represent New Jersey in the Continental Congress, where he became one of the signatories of the Articles of Confederation. He eventually grew so frustrated by the blatant corruption he experienced that he abandoned politics and helped form an extra-legal vigilante organization, the Retaliators. Nathaniel's inner journey to the abandonment of his congressional mandate in favor of participation in violent retaliation was driven by his friendship and admiration for David Forman, the main architect of the retribution strategy.

On October 16, 1781, Nathaniel Scudder became the only person who served in the Continental Congress to die in action in the War of American Independence. In a skirmish between Retaliators and Loyalists, he was struck by a bullet meant for David Forman.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Resource Publications
• Release date: Oct 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781666722864

David T. Fisher

David T. Fisher is an author, lecturer, and information management consultant. Born in New York City, he lives and works in Wiesbaden, Germany, with his wife, Étel Rauhof-Fisher. Fisher has published several books and many articles on a wide variety of topics ranging from history and politics to software development and labor relations. His community service activities focus on the promotion of the European-American Partnership through the organization of internships in Europe for Princeton undergraduates.

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Preface and Acknowledgements

I

n 1996, Princeton celebrated

its

250

th anniversary, and the Princeton Alumni Weekly included a quotation from my earliest Princeton ancestor from the Class of

1751

, Nathaniel Scudder. I was intrigued to discover that he had refused another term in the Continental Congress because he could no longer afford it, and he was unwilling to participate in the corrupt activities that many of his colleagues were engaged in. He was the only person to serve in the Continental Congress who was killed in action in the War of American Independence. Wanting to learn more, I embarked on an extensive research project which led to my discovery of vastly differing motivations that drove the rebels of

1776

: Plantation owners worried that the British might free their slaves or limit their importation, Scotch-Irish immigrants detested policies that hindered them from settling areas promised to Native Americans, merchants resented the self-serving mercantilist trade policies of the mother country — but, for many graduates of Nassau Hall, it was all about religion. Like Nathaniel Scudder, the descendants of Calvinist Puritans feared the loss of the hard-won religious freedom that was their original and primary reason for immigration to North America. To prevent that, they were willing to defy the most formidable war machine of the age in a long and bitter asymmetric struggle for independence.

Decades of research uncovered many fascinating, surprising, and little-known aspects of that era. Rather than compiling yet another history book about the War of American Independence that would only be of interest to specialists, I decided instead to reach out to a broader audience by turning the results of my research into a historical novel designed to entertain but also to stimulate interest in the foundation era. Although the book is a novel, it follows the events very closely — all the major events described really happened, all the important characters really existed (see Dramatis Personae) but almost all the dialogues are completely fictional. Each of the main characters, whether fictional or historic, symbolizes a thread woven into the fabric that later became America, threads that are still much in evidence today.

The material for this novel was gleaned from hundreds of sources: history books, articles, archive materials, biographical sketches of Princeton alumni as well as local tales handed down by generations of New Jersey natives. Among the most useful sources are undoubtedly the archives of the Scudder Association Foundation and the book it published in 1976, Scudders in the American Revolution by Hamilton Cochran. Several of the works of Michael Adelberg including The American Revolution in Monmouth County and The Razing of Tinton Falls provide extremely useful accounts of what was really happening on the ground in revolutionary New Jersey. His bibliography and amazing database of historical documents guided much of my research. The outstanding books of my fellow Princetonian, David Hackett Fischer (no relation), were a constant source of inspiration. In particular, Washington’s Crossing and Albion’s Seed are required reading for anyone seeking to understand the roots of early America. The same goes for The War That Made America: A Short History of the French and Indian War by Fred Anderson which convincingly describes how that earlier war set the stage for the War of American Independence. The pervasive ideological influence that the Scottish Enlightenment exerted on the founders of the College of New Jersey (later Princeton University) is well documented in The Scottish Enlightenment: The Scots’ Invention of the Modern World by Arthur Herman. The intense Calvinist religiosity of Princeton’s founders is clearly depicted in The Journal of Esther Edwards Burr, 1754–1757 edited by Carol F. Karlsen and Laurie Crumpacker. Another rich source of insights is Sheila L. Skemp’s biography of William Franklin, son of Benjamin Franklin, the last royal governor of New Jersey and leader of Loyalist resistance to the Revolution. Finally, a good appreciation for the look and feel of colonial New Jersey when much of it was still a wilderness inhabited by pirates and smugglers is provided by Smugglers’ Woods—Jaunts and Journeys in Colonial and Revolutionary New Jersey by Arthur D. Pierce. In addition to these great books, I was much aided by the archives of the Monmouth County Historical Association and the friendly and helpful people there who volunteer so much of their time to keep history alive. The same should be said of Kathleen and Michael Pippen, new jersians born and bred, who helped me follow up on many of the leads I unearthed and chauffeured me to numerous historical sites during my visits to the state. I am also very grateful to my classmate, Paul Sittenfeld, for his encouragement as well as for the introduction to my editor, Shana Kelly, who offered useful feedback for the improvement of the manuscript. Last but certainly not least, I want to thank another fellow Princetonian, Professor Lewis Hinchman, for his meticulous final editing of the manuscript and his thoughtful and detailed suggestions.

Although I am much indebted to these and others for the help they offered and the many insights they have shared, I take full responsibility for any inaccuracies or possible misinterpretations of the historical record. The view of the characters and motives of the people involved as presented in the dialogues is entirely my own.

Prologue: Darien Peninsula – 1699

C

aptain John Anderson and

his First Mate Andrew Ferguson ducked instinctively as the cannon ball from the Spanish galleon whooshed just a few feet over their heads.

Hard to port, Ferguson, hard to port! shouted Captain Anderson, That Spanish bastard has our range, the next ball will rip our heads off. Get us before the wind. Our only hope is to outrun him.

Aye Captain, course changed 90 degrees due south, answered Ferguson.

As the ship veered abruptly in the direction of the wind, all the sails on the three-mast barquentine billowed out, catching the wind full on causing the vessel to spurt forward. Another ball from the Spanish galleon landed in the water where the Unicorn had been just moments before. As the lightly loaded ship picked up speed, the distance to the heavily armed Spanish galleon slowly increased. Its cannon balls splashed into the sea further and further behind the Unicorn.

That was a close call, Captain, said Ferguson with a sign of relief, "Maybe we should not have left half of the Unicorn’s cannon in Edinburgh."

They wouldn’t have been enough to help us against a heavily-armed galleon, explained Captain Anderson, The only feasible strategy is to outrun our enemies with a fast ship. Besides, we need as much storage capacity as possible if we want to rescue many of those poor fools in Darien.

How many do you think there will be, sir? asked Ferguson.

They started off with several thousand settlers, but the last report spoke of dozens of people dying every day, replied Captain Anderson, That is why the Darien Company decided to send us to pull them out, so long as there are still people to rescue. We are probably lucky if we can get a few hundred out of there. I wonder if Paterson himself is still alive.

Paterson, isn’t he the one who came up that lunatic idea for a Scottish colony on the Darien Peninsula? asked Ferguson.

Indeed, the same, answered Captain Anderson, He was convinced that that wretched mosquito-infested coastal area of Panama which we will soon have the pleasure to visit was ‘the door of the seas and the key to the Universe’ as he put it. He thought that a base there would allow Scotland to dominate both the Atlantic and the Pacific.

Anyone who has sailed in this part of the world could have warned him of the dangers, the fevers, the wild savages, the Spanish warships, said Ferguson, That stretch of coast has been Spanish for 150 years. They would never tolerate another nation trying to set up there.

Unfortunately, William Paterson did not let facts intrude on his visions. He was a fast talker and had an extraordinary ability to infect people with such enthusiasm that few bothered to investigate the feasibility of his projects, explained Captain Anderson, He presented it as a matter of national pride. England was developing faster than Scotland because of its colonial adventures. Scotland, therefore, needed to get into the game as well. Paterson was able to cast his plan as a patriotic necessity essential to the future well-being of the Scottish nation. He managed to collect 400,000 pounds for his hare-brained scheme. The entire upper class of Scotland put their savings at his disposal. God only knows what this debacle holds in store for the future of our poor country.

Perhaps the survivors could start again somewhere else? suggested Ferguson.

Their 400,000 pounds have definitely gone up in smoke, but if those people can find a place that allows them to settle in peace, they might still have a chance, answered Captain Anderson, They certainly are a tough lot and those that survive Darien will be tougher yet. They are convinced that their salvation lies somewhere in the New World and see themselves as being on a holy mission. I remember when they departed from Leith Harbor a few years ago amid the prayers, tears and well wishes of the entire population of Edinburgh. They had five thousand English-language Bibles on board to help them convert the heathen Indians. When they got to Darien, they realized that they had not packed enough food. They should have brought more supplies instead of Bibles.

Ferguson winced slightly at the captain’s somewhat blasphemous disparagement of the Bible project. He was used to hearing the captain’s cynical remarks whenever anything related to religious zealotry was discussed. Still, as a superstitious sailor, he would rather not offend the Creator unnecessarily, especially during a dangerous mission like this one.

The Unicorn continued south for half a day until the captain was confident that he had left the Spanish galleon far enough behind. He then changed course again toward the West in the direction of Darien. After another few days the verdant coastline of Central America came into view on the horizon.

Land, ahoy, shouted the sailor in the crow’s nest, I think I see a Scottish flag in the distance to the northwest.

That will be atop Fort St. Andrew, confirmed the captain, That is the only thing the settlers actually managed to construct, and it was to become Scotland’s impregnable base of operations in the New World. Now it is battered regularly by Spanish men-of-war. Let’s hope its cannons can keep the enemy at bay long enough for us to load the survivors. Hoist our Scottish colors, lads, so they know not to fire in our direction!

As the Unicorn approached the settlement the sight that greeted the sailors was enough to make even the most hardened Jack Tar gasp. The beach in front of the Fort was covered with several hundred men and women who looked as though they had endured the Final Judgement. Clad in rags with sunken faces, they were covered with festering insect bites. Many had that sickly yellow tint to their skin that indicated the dreadful fever endemic to these parts that had already claimed so many lives.

We shouldn’t touch them, blurted a nervous boatswain’s mate, They are all infected with the pest. They will spread it to us!

A concerned murmur arose among the other crewmen.

Captain Anderson turned an angry face toward the seaman. Pulling a pistol out of his belt he marched over to the offending man and grabbed him by the neck.

I am the only man giving orders on this ship, the captain said through clenched teeth pointing the barrel of his pistol into the man’s mouth, And anyone who doesn’t understand that is going to be eating some lead very quickly now. And as for the rest of you, continued the captain turning toward the other members of the crew that had gathered, You know that as your captain I would not send you on a suicide mission. I have been to these parts before, and I know what’s ailing those people on shore. It is not the pest. It is a fever caused by the polluted night air of this place and it does not spread from person to person. You needn’t worry about touching these people. Most of them will probably die but they won’t infect you. We just need to look lively now and get our work finished here as quickly as possible. The sooner we are back out to sea, the safer we are.

Releasing the sailor, the captain glared with defiant self-confidence at the other crew members. Their subdued downcast glances satisfied him that he had restored his authority.

Now then, ready the tender so that I can meet with their representatives, commanded the captain.

After the Unicorn anchored in the bay, the captain with the other ship’s officers went to shore in the tender where they were greeted by none other than William Paterson, the originator of the doomed Darien project.

Our prayers have been answered, William Paterson raised his arms toward the sky, Our 300 brave settlers who have survived so many travails will yet be saved. Praise the Lord!

"The Unicorn cannot possibly take on so many passengers, Captain Anderson stopped him short in order to quickly dampen any unrealistic expectations, At the most 180 if they are willing to be stacked up like African slaves. The local authorities have to make a selection. Only those with the best chance of survival should be chosen. Three more ships left Scotland with us. They all took different routes to avoid interception by the Spanish or by pirates. Those that don’t go with us can go with one of the other ships."

It is clear that all the settlers cannot fit on one ship, Paterson quickly agreed, I will organize the selection that you suggest. I, for one, must get back to Edinburgh as soon as possible to deal with the financial repercussions of this …uh. . . setback. Even though it pains me that I must leave my beloved wife of many years buried here on this beach.

Captain Anderson and First Mate Ferguson looked at each other and without exchanging a word immediately understood that Paterson’s selection would somehow wind up benefiting Paterson.

It did not take long for Paterson and the surviving leaders of the Darien community to select about half of the survivors for embarkment on the Unicorn. There were protests from those who were told to wait for the next ships, but they were already in such a weakened condition that most of them quickly resigned themselves to their fate. Captain Anderson soothed them a bit by unloading some of the supplies that the Unicorn had on board to tide them over until the other ships arrived.

We will head for Jamaica and resupply ourselves there for the journey over the Atlantic, Captain explained to First Mate Ferguson and the other senior crew members, We need to make haste because we are heading into summer and the hurricane season. If we can streak through to Kingston without being caught by pirates or Spanish, we should be able to catch a good wind for a quick crossing to Scotland before the storms start in earnest.

The selected survivors with their meagre possessions were soon aboard the Unicorn. Most of them came with barely more than the shirts on their backs. Any bulky property had in any case to be left to the remaining settlers in order to maximize the number of passengers that could fit aboard the Unicorn. By the time the sun was setting over the isthmus, Captain Anderson was ready to set sail for the open seas. The crew worked especially quickly since no one wanted to experience the noxious night air of Darien and the fevers that lurked therein. With all sails set the Unicorn sailed off briskly into the darkening horizon on a northerly course. Captain Anderson wanted to get as far as he could the first night to avoid another encounter with Spanish warships. He knew that the Unicorn now heavily laden would have a harder time outrunning an attacking ship.

As the sun rose the next day, Captain Anderson was pleased to see that they had been lucky with the prevailing winds and appeared to be making good time. An astrolabe measurement at noon confirmed that the Unicorn was fast approaching the latitude of Jamaica. Unfortunately, several of the passengers had succumbed to their fevers during the night and had to be dumped overboard.

Just as Captain Anderson was beginning to feel confident that the Jamaica leg of the journey would soon be accomplished, the sailor in the crow’s nest shouted, Ship ahoy on starboard, Captain, she seems to be heading in the same direction we are.

Captain Anderson peering through his telescope soon confirmed that a well-armed ship was sailing in the same direction as the Unicorn but on a convergence course that would bring both ships within hailing distance of each other.

It seems to be flying British colors, said Captain Anderson with some relief, It’s probably a British privateer heading to the same place we are. Kingston is the lair for privateers that prey on Spanish shipping. That’s where Henry Morgan was based for years. A British privateer would not normally attack a Scottish ship, but you can never be too certain. Out here on the Spanish Main there is only a thin line between privateers and pirates.

Shall we ready the gun crews, just in case? asked the First Mate.

That’s a waste of time, said Captain Anderson, We could not win a fight with that one with all these people on board. Best not to provoke them. Better to have the passengers with the yellow fever come out on board and stand clearly visible to the other ship. That will make them think twice about boarding us.

As the course of the two ships gradually converged, the tension rose among the crew members of the Unicorn. As they escorted the sick passengers to the railings, each sailor kept an anxious eye out for the places where the weapons were stowed. The Unicorn was soon within shouting distance of the heavily armed British privateer by the name of Serpent. Captain Anderson could see from their appearance that the sailors on the other ship were as dangerous a lot of cutthroats as could be found on the Spanish Main.

The captain of the Serpent hailed the Unicorn, "This is Her Majesty’s ship, the Serpent, returning to our home port of Kingston from a mission against the Spanish. What business have you in this area?"

We are a Scottish ship on a rescue mission to take these poor sick settlers back to their homeland, shouted Captain Anderson, We are also headed toward Kingston to take on supplies. Can you tell us how far we are away?

If the wind holds, we should be arriving in Kingston within a day, answered the captain of the Serpent, You can follow us there if you will, but keep your distance. I don’t want any outbreaks of fever among my crew.

First Mate Ferguson smiled at Captain Anderson in admiration that his clever ruse had probably saved them from the depredations of what was obviously a pack of pirates. And he had provided them with a pilot into the port of Kingston which they might otherwise have spent days trying to find.

In the late afternoon, the Union Jack flying over the port of Kingston appeared on the horizon. The Unicorn followed the Serpent into the bay anchoring at a distance to shore sufficient to allay any anxieties about contact with the sick survivors. Captain Anderson, First Mate Ferguson and several other crew members set off in the tender to buy enough fresh supplies for the crossing. As they approached the shore, they saw the crew of the Serpent already busy unloading the booty from their privateering venture. By the light of a large bonfire, they were setting up a kind of open-air market for the stolen goods. They were greeted by a noisy crowd of rum-swilling Jack Tars offering toasts to the successes of their friends and colleagues. Women of the night were informing the sailors of the many delights that could be purchased with their ill-gotten gains. Someone started to sing a chanty accompanied by a squeeze box and many in the crowd started to dance in the street. The whole unloading procedure seemed to be turning into a raucous bacchanal.

Our men would love to have shore leave for just one night before the crossing, suggested First Mate Ferguson.

No shore leave for anyone tonight, replied Captain Anderson sternly, We need to leave again quickly to make as much distance as possible under the cover of darkness. We will have to slip between Cuba and Hispaniola in order to get to the Bahamas. From there we will follow a northeasterly course out of the hurricane zone. Besides, this den of iniquity would be the ruin of our crew. After tonight they would be useless for days and we have no time to lose.

Captain Anderson arranged to have several dozen barrels each of salt pork, hard tack, and fresh water delivered to the ship within hours so that they were ready to sail before midnight. As the Unicorn sailed off into the night the crew gazed longingly at the wild party growing in intensity at the port.

The Unicorn made it past Cuba and Hispaniola in the dark without incident. As the sun rose, however, Captain Anderson was alarmed to see storm clouds gathering on the horizon.

All hands report to their storm stations! ordered Captain Anderson, Strike the main-sail. Get the passengers below and batten the hatches. Those below take turns manning the bilge pumps. It looks like we will have to ride out a tropical storm.

As the crew rushed about fulfilling the captain’s orders, the wind began to blow more intensely in a northeasterly direction.

At least the wind is driving us in the direction we want to go, remarked First Mate Ferguson.

That will do us no good if it gets too strong. There are dozens of reefs and sandbars it could smash us on if we lose control of the ship, warned Captain Anderson.

The wind speed continued to increase and soon the Unicorn was surfing swells that resembled small mountains.

Strike the rest of the sails, Ferguson! shouted the captain, And all hands lash themselves to their duty stations. This wind can sweep a man overboard in a twinkling and we will need every sailor we’ve got in order to survive this one.

As the wind approached hurricane velocity, the hollowing grew so loud that orders could no longer be heard. Captain Anderson had to rely on the experience and training of his crew to perform the functions necessary to keep the vessel afloat. The ship sped along at a frightening speed even though all sails had been struck. The First Mate and the Helmsman manned the wheel together to keep the rudder as stable as possible. Luckily, the storm had blown the ship so far out to sea that they were in little danger of striking reefs. Nonetheless the slightest mishap at this speed could cause them to break apart and founder. As the screeching of the wind reached an infernal intensity, the main mast snapped just above the deck with a report like a thunderclap. It fell forward dragging its rigging with it, striking the forward mast and smashing the yardarm. Immediately understanding the mortal danger that the broken debris posed for the stability of the ship, several sailors loosened their lashings enough to fight their way over to cut the rigging holding the mast and the spars on deck. After several tense moments of hacking away at the ropes, the whole entanglement was swept overboard along with two of the brave men whose actions saved the ship from capsizing.

God have mercy on their souls, muttered Captain Anderson, determined now more than ever that they somehow had to come through all this so that the sacrifice of those fine sailors would not be in vain.

The storm continued unabated for the rest of the day. Without the two forward masts, the ship was actually a bit more stable and no longer reached the velocities it had before. Nevertheless, it was only the iron will to survive that allowed the crew to overcome their complete and utter exhaustion. As night fell, the storm gradually lessened. When it was clear that they had survived the worst of the hurricane, each crew member on deck sank down at his station whispering a prayer of thanks and falling into a deep sleep.

The next day was sunny and calm. The Unicorn bereft of her two forward masts sailed at a leisurely tempo powered only by an improvised sail on the aft mast. The survivors less two who had passed away during the storm were back on deck praising the Lord for their good fortune. William Paterson was wondering aloud what great mission He might have in store for them. What other reason could there be for their miraculous survival?

The only reason you’re alive is because my lads risked their lives to save you, thought Captain Anderson to himself as he took an astrolabe reading to determine their latitude.

Our survival is far from certain, Captain Anderson said aloud, Our ship is no longer seaworthy, and we are quickly running out of supplies. Our only hope to reach land soon before we sink. In any case we won’t be getting back to Scotland on this ship.

But I must get back to Scotland as quickly as possible to report to our investors, especially now that a company ship has been ruined. Paterson said with a pomposity totally at odds with his disastrous financial situation.

Well, you can thank God that any of us are still alive because we might not be much longer, retorted Captain Anderson darkly as he wondered to himself if there was indeed any justifiable hope of survival. Just as he began to resign himself to a dismal fate an enormous flock of white birds appeared on the horizon. Although not a religious person, he could not help feeling that this was a sign from Providence that not all was lost.

Ferguson! he shouted, Those birds yonder are surely proof that land is near. Steer us in the direction whence they came!

Not long after a distant shore came into view. In addition to thousands of birds they could see a verdant coast lined with what appeared to be cedar swamps. As luck would have it, they were soon hailed by a local schooner.

The captain of the schooner introduced himself as Daniel Leeds who informed them that the land they saw was the colony of Nova Caesarea and that he was surveying it on behalf of the owners who were known as the Proprietors.

Is there a place where one can safely land this ship, asked Captain Anderson, I fear that we could sink at any moment.

Not around here, replied Leeds, This coast is treacherous with many reefs and sandbars. But I can tow you to the next decent harbor at Perth Amboy. There you will be able meet a representative of the Proprietors who might be able to help you.

Gratefully accepting Leeds’ offer Captain Anderson ordered his crew to tether the wrecked ship to the schooner. Together they proceeded slowly within view of the coast but at a safe distance from the reefs and shoals. Arriving at the harbor town of Perth Amboy Captain Anderson cut the tether and ran the Unicorn onto the beach. He then ordered the evacuation of all its passengers and cargo. A crowd soon gathered to gawk at the ruined vessel and ask the crew what had befallen them.

I am John Anderson, captain of this vessel, Captain Anderson addressed the crowd, We are carrying survivors from Darien, and I need to speak to a representative of the Proprietors.

That would be me, a man perhaps 10 years older than Captain Anderson with a thick Scottish accent stepped out from the crowd, I am John Reid, the Surveyor-General of the province. I represent the Proprietors. What is it that you need to discuss?

I want to know how quickly we can get our brethren back to Scotland, William Paterson pushed himself into the conversation.

It seems your brethren have had enough travel for a while, replied John Reid casting a critical eye at Paterson and his bedraggled passengers, Captain Anderson, perhaps you would accompany me to my office where we can discuss how these poor people might best be helped.

Anderson followed Reid to his office a few streets away leaving Paterson, the crew, and the survivors standing on the beach trying to sort out what little cargo was still intact after the storm. Reid motioned to one of two comfortable leather chairs while he decanted a bottle of real Highland Single Malt. Anderson sank gratefully into the chair thinking how long it had been since he had felt such comfort. It was the first time he had sniffed the peaty aroma of a Highland Single Malt since he left Scotland.

As the two men savored the strong spirits, Anderson recounted the entire sad story of the Darien Debacle and the travails that they had endured in the last weeks. He emphasized the role that Paterson had played in the folly and made it clear to Reid that neither Paterson nor the survivors were in any position to drive hard bargains.

Maybe Providence played a role in this after all, said Reid after listening to Anderson’s story, It so happens that we are in dire need of settlers here, especially ones who are more cooperative than the ones we have now. We have great tracts of land to lease but nobody to farm them, at least nobody who has a decent respect for property rights.

What seems to be the problem? asked Captain Anderson, I would think there would be great interest in getting access to fertile virgin territory.

Oh, there is plenty of interest alright, but you have to understand the background here, explained Reid, The current Proprietors purchased the land from the original owner, Lord Carteret, who had been granted this place from the Duke of York after he threw out the Dutch. The Proprietors were generally the younger sons of Scottish aristocratic families limited in their enjoyment of the grand lifestyle of landed gentry by the principle of primogeniture. They dreamed of establishing a feudal paradise for themselves in the New World with all the privileges that their older brothers enjoyed in Scotland. They planned to distribute the land to docile peasants and live comfortably from the quitrents. What they did not realize was that there were people already living here and Carteret’s people had experienced armed rebellion when they tried to impose the quitrent system on them. That was the reason they were able to buy the proprietorship so cheaply.

But who are these people who were already here? asked Captain Anderson.

It’s a motley lot, answered Reid, They’re Dutchman, Swedes, French Huguenots, and every sort of British religious group you can imagine, most of them dissident Calvinists. Right after the English conquered New Netherlands the new English military governor, Colonel Richard Nicolls, at the behest of the Duke of York, tried to populate the area as quickly as possible. He offered generous tracts of land to English yeomen from New England who were happy to move to the frontier. They purchased land from the Lenape Indians unaware that much of the property had been promised to the Proprietors who based their claims on the royal grants originally made to Berkeley and Carteret. The British immigrants have been filtering in for generations from New England through Long Island. They are accustomed to the freeholder system of New England and have no respect at all for the claims of Stuart courtiers. They are, after all, descendants of the kind of Puritans who have already beheaded one Stuart. They think that quitrents are an outrageous offense against their idea of covenant which in their view binds congregations and towns together in a special pact with God with no intermediaries.

I can imagine how difficult it is to deal with these people, Captain Anderson said, Religious fanatics can be very stubborn.

Indeed, they can, agreed Reid, These people simply don’t acknowledge any overlord. They have been too much on their own for too long. And they are armed to the teeth. They have always organized their own militias to protect themselves and don’t take orders from anyone except for their own leaders who are usually dissident preachers. Whenever anyone tries to impose the rule of law on them, they riot.

I don’t think you will have that problem with our Darien survivors, said Captain Anderson, They will be thankful for any conditions you may care to offer them. They are Scotsmen who are used to the quitrent system at home. After Darien, they will be grateful for any way to rescue their dreams. And you needn’t pay any mind to Paterson. He and the Darien Company are ruined, they are walking dead.

Judging by the way you rescued the Darien survivors from utter disaster, said Reid, I think you might be just the man to convince them to take up our offers. The Proprietors would be most grateful, and they tend to show their gratitude in generous ways.

I would be pleased to help, answered Anderson, relieved that some new prospects were opening up for him as well, I like projects that are a bit of a challenge.

Reid smiled thoughtfully nodding his head. He liked the young sea captain who seemed to have the same kind of bold self-confidence as himself. He was certain that this would be the beginning of a fruitful cooperation.

The two men soon became close allies. Anderson and Reid organized immediate relief for the survivors through Reid’s connections in the Quaker community. Anderson then set about negotiating land tenure agreements with the survivors on behalf of the Proprietors. For each successful lease he was paid a commission and was soon on his way to a modest degree of prosperity. His work kept him busy for the next year. Both the Darien survivors and the Proprietors were delighted with the results of Anderson’s efforts. The Proprietors, in fact, were so pleased that they encouraged Reid to entrust the young man with ever more managerial responsibilities. Reid was happy to oblige and began to treat Anderson like a member of his family. The relationship grew so felicitous that when Anderson asked for the hand of Reid’s daughter, Anna, in marriage, he agreed without hesitation and promised the couple a generous estate in Manalapan as dowry.

Book 1

Isabella’s First Sacrifice– 1737–1770

Chapter 1

The New Ark of the Covenant – 1749

B

ut, Jacob, why in

the Lord’s name would you want to move into the wilds of the Jerseys? Abia Scudder wrung her hands in frustration at her husband’s latest idea, Here on Long Island we have everything we need, our mill is doing well, and our relatives live not far away."

The place is filling up with unsavory characters, Abia, answered Jacob Scudder with a self-righteous scowl, I am not sure if this is the best place to bring up pious children. Besides we can sell our mill and farm here for a good price and buy twice the amount of land in the virgin territory of Eastern Jersey. Several of my cousins have already moved there and been very successful. I am convinced that this is what the Lord meant for us. That is the new Canaan. Why, one of the towns there is even called the New Ark, a fitting place for God-fearing people to renew their covenant with the Almighty in the pristine wilderness.

Nathaniel listened nervously to his parents arguing. As a teenager he had no right to comment on the relative merits of each side of the argument, but he knew his father’s enthusiasm would very likely overpower any objections his exhausted mother might be able to make. His father was a bundle of energy and had a way of bolstering his plans with religious arguments that made resistance from his mother seem almost impious. Helpless to counter such onslaughts, Abia would generally give in to whatever plans Jacob might be laying but at the same she would be unable to mask completely her feelings of resentment. Although Nathaniel relished his father’s latest plan for new adventures on the frontier, he regretted the tension that always arose when Jacob ran roughshod over Abia’s concerns. Each defeat seemed to make Abia a bit more exhausted and irritable.

I think you will better see the wisdom in this after you have listened to Reverend Edwards this evening at the revival, said Jacob in his patronizing tone, All over people are waking up to the possibilities that beckon if we just put our faith in the Lord and organize our polities based on His principles. Reverend Edwards teaches us that we need to open our hearts to the Lord and let His Grace guide us.

That evening Nathaniel accompanied his parents to a large tent which had been set up to accommodate the crowds that Reverend Edwards often drew. People came from far and wide to listen to the famous New Light preacher who encouraged his listeners to seek a direct experience of the Divine. Some came just to witness the dramatic scenes which often seemed to result from the pastor’s exhortations. An atmosphere of tense expectation developed as the crowd waited impatiently for the minister to begin.

Finally, a man with the white collar and black robe of a Calvinist preacher stepped up to the improvised pulpit.

Good evening, Friends in Christ, he began in a strong, confident voice, This evening I would like to speak to you about the just anger that God feels toward all who are out of Christ and the wretched tortures that are in store for them. The wrath of God burns against them, their damnation does not slumber; the pit is prepared, the fire is made ready, the furnace is now hot, ready to receive them; the flames do now rage and glow. The glittering sword is whet, and held over them, and the pit hath opened its mouth under them.

Edwards continued in this vein for a long time describing in almost sadistic detail what awaits the non-repentant sinner at the hands of an almighty and wrathful God. He noted that since everyone is born a sinner and seldom can resist the lures of Satan, all of us deserve this horrible fate. Nathaniel began to feel more and more depressed at the obvious hopelessness of the human situation. As he looked around the congregation, he noticed that many people, including his mother, had begun to weep softly.

There is nothing that keeps wicked men at any one moment out of hell, but the mere pleasure of God, continued Edwards, his voice rising in a crescendo, In His own good time all the wicked will meet their inevitable fates. It can happen at any moment, but God alone decides when that will be. And all your pitiable efforts to avoid that fate are useless. God alone decides who will be saved and who will suffer forever.

Signs of increasing anxiety were in evidence among the congregation. The weeping increased in intensity, and many looked downright distraught.

You are asking yourself now, what can I do to be saved? shouted Edwards, The answer is nothing, absolutely nothing, you will be saved only if God wills it. All you can do is accept the will of God and accept it joyfully, because there is nothing that God wills that is not perfect.

At that point Abia Scudder was seized by an intense shudder and fell into the arms of her husband. With Nathaniel’s help Jacob managed to drag the convulsing woman out of the tent and lay her down on the meadow in the fresh air. After a time, the shuddering eased, and Abia lay with her eyes closed softly moaning. As Jacob stroked her hair to calm her, Nathaniel ran to fetch the family’s horse and wagon. Together they gently lifted her up and placed her in a lying position in the back of the wagon. Jacob sat next to her and drew her head into his lap while Nathaniel, fearing to put strain on her, drove the horse and wagon at a carefully measured pace back to their farm. Upon arrival Jacob and Nathaniel once again lifted Abia and carried her to her bed.

Shall I fetch the doctor? asked Nathaniel anxiously, Perhaps she has had an attack of apoplexy.

No, I think she will be alright, answered Jacob, I think she has just had the conversion experience and was temporarily overwhelmed by the power of the Almighty. Now she just needs rest.

And rest she did. Abia remained in her bed for over a week. Nathaniel carefully attended to her each day and was relieved to note that after a few days the color seemed to be coming back to her cheeks. After a week she was able to sit up in her bed and eat normally again. To Nathaniel’s great surprise, despite her illness, his mother was actually in a better mood than she had experienced for a long time. She was calm, relaxed and smiled frequently in an almost beatific manner.

This is a result of having received God’s grace, explained Jacob, It can strike you like a thunderbolt. It is no wonder that she needs a few days to recuperate. But you will see, she will be much happier and healthier now because she has accepted the Lord’s will.

And so it came to pass that Abia Scudder was indeed a changed woman. For her now everything was the Lord’s will to be accepted joyously without complaint. Nathaniel was pleased to note that the frequent disagreements between Jacob and Abia which used to create so much tension seemed to be a thing of the past. She also no longer offered any resistance when Jacob discussed his plans for relocating the family to the New Jersey frontier.

Jacob paid several visits to his relatives in the Jerseys to scout for real estate. Returning from his third visit he burst into the house to proclaim his success.

I have met a man named Dr. Daniel Brinton who has made me an outstanding offer, announced Jacob with ebullient enthusiasm, Several large mills located on a 100-acre tract of the finest farming land for only 1400 pounds. We can sell our holdings here for much more and realize a handsome profit.

It seems that the Lord has surely blessed your project, Jacob, responded Abia with calm equanimity. Otherwise, you would not have found such a wonderful opportunity.

Right you are, Abia, continued Jacob confidently, And there are yet more signs of His Grace. Several pastors from the Presbyterian Synod of New York have convinced the royal governor of New Jersey to grant a charter for a new college to train pious young men. With the profit we earned from the sale of our lands here we will be able to pay for a fine education for Nathaniel.

This part of his father’s plan was new to Nathaniel but came as a pleasant surprise.

Why father, I am grateful for this unexpected honor, responded Nathaniel respectfully, What kind of a college is this that you speak of?

Well, you might recall that several of our leading New Light Presbyterians have been trying to establish a college for some time to educate young men for responsible roles in the community, in particular to supply our growing congregations with pastors of the True Religion.

Yes, I do recall your having mentioned that this has long been a major concern of pastors such as Reverend Edwards and Reverend Tennent, answered Nathaniel.

But Lewis, the last Anglican governor of New Jersey, was always opposed because he hated the freedom of worship that our Presbyterian faith holds dear, continued Jacob, He wanted to keep control of religion in the hands of Papist Anglican bishops who want to place themselves between us and our God. When Lewis died, however, the new acting governor, Hamilton, was a Scotsman who was more open-minded toward true religion; he finally granted the pastors their charter. The new royal governor who followed him, Belcher, confirmed it so now it is an established institution that is operating in the parsonage of Reverend Aaron Burr in the town called the New Ark. From here learned scholars will fan out to spread the Word in our new Canaan. And you, Nathaniel, will be one of them.

Nathaniel was excited by the prospect of getting the education of a learned gentleman and gratified that his father was willing and able to pay for such a privilege. He had, however, never considered that he might spend his life as a minister although serving the community in some way would certainly be desirable. He was much more interested in natural rather than moral philosophy but both subjects were part of every college curriculum and the choice of a career lay far in the future.

Chapter 2

Manalapan – 1756

N

athaniel Scudder sat in

the library of the parsonage of Reverend Aaron Burr on the corner of Broad and William Streets in Newark. He was there together with his friend and classmate, Benjamin Prime, both of whom were preparing themselves for a career as physicians. Nathaniel was trying to concentrate his thoughts on the volume of Galen’s De pulsibus lying in front of him. Although the text was in Latin, a language he had thoroughly mastered, he kept reading the same few lines over and over. His inability to concentrate was very upsetting because he was preparing for an important examination at the College of New Jersey which he was scheduled to take before the imminent move of the college from Newark to the little town of Princeton. He had borrowed the book from a local scholar and wanted to return it before the move. He took a deep breath and began the page again.

Benjamin, sitting across from him, cast an annoyed look.

Natty, you are huffing and puffing like an old bellows. What in the world is wrong with you?

Oh Benjie, I’m afraid I just can’t concentrate. There is a fair maiden whose face I cannot banish from my thoughts, said Nathaniel by way of apology.

Don’t tell me you’re in love! responded Benjamin incredulously. "Let me guess; a verse comes to mind:

Sukey smiled at Nat

Smitten he doffed his hat

Should his love he show

From Esther he can expect a blow."

You and your silly doggerel, Nathaniel shot back. And keep your voice down, if Esther Burr hears you and thinks we are mocking her sister, we could both indeed be in real trouble. Besides, you are way off the mark. It is not Susanna Edwards. She is just a child. The very idea of it is just perverse!

Well, we are all born depraved as Reverend Burr never ceases to remind us. Why should you be any different? Come on now, you can share your secret with me. I might even be able to give you some good advice, Benjamin smiled archly.

Nathaniel thought that perhaps it might, in fact, ease his inner turmoil if he could discuss his secret obsession with someone.

You must promise to say not a word to anyone!

I’d rather spend a week in the stocks, affirmed Benjamin solemnly.

Ok, then, the lady’s name is Isabella Anderson, confessed Nathaniel abjectly.

Isabella Anderson?!? From the Andersons of Monmouth County, one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the colony?!? Benjamin’s voice rose in a crescendo of disbelief.

I know, I know, Nathaniel answered with resignation, There is no way a princess like that is going to be interested in a miller’s son. In addition, she is part of that Scottish aristocracy that lays claim to most of the eastern Jerseys. I will never have occasion to meet her on a social level. I only ever catch a glimpse of her when I attend Sunday service at Reverend Tennent’s meeting house down in Manalapan when I am working on my medical internship with Dr. Clark. And I certainly can’t chat her up when we are in church.

Ah, well, let me think, reflected Benjamin pensively, If you attend the same church, that is already a good beginning. Perhaps you can strike up a conversation after services.

Very unlikely, Nathaniel replied gloomily, She is accompanied by her mother and a servant who drives their wagon and they do not tarry after the services.

Not to despair, Natty, encouraged Benjamin, There is a solution to everything. You must patiently wait every Sunday for an opportunity to make a gallant impression.

Nathaniel thought that his friend was overly optimistic, but he was so desperately in love that he was willing to try anything. He resolved to attend services regularly on every coming Sunday in the hope that he would somehow find a pretense to meet the girl without seeming impertinent.

On the next Sunday Nathaniel left early for Manalapan from his boarding room near Monmouth Courthouse to make certain that he was in time for the service. He had donned his best powdered wig, ruffled white shirt, cravat, and dark coat although the summer heat was bound to make him uncomfortable. He stood in the back of the meeting house and gazed at the beautiful Isabella dressed in a gorgeous grey gown and blue petticoat. He had never seen any of the women in his staid Puritan family looking like that. He could not take his eyes off the lovely girl sitting in the first pew except when his staring seemed to attract the disapproving glances of the good Presbyterian churchgoers. Reverend Tennent was expatiating about the wiles of Satan who never tired of luring young people into sinful debauchery and Nathaniel began to feel that the Puritan preacher was speaking directly to him.

The servant who had driven the wagon waited patiently outside while Isabella and her mother attended the service. Shortly after it was over and the congregation came out of the church. Isabella and her mother proceeded directly to their wagon and were helped inside by the servant. After sitting down Isabella remembered that she had forgotten her parasol in the church.

Dunmore, could you please fetch my parasol. I am afraid I left it in our pew, Isabella asked.

After the servant had entered the church, as luck would have it a sharp noise caused the horses pulling the now driverless wagon to bolt and head off at a brisk trot.

At that moment Nathaniel realized he had a God-given opportunity for demonstrating his gallantry. He jumped on his horse and galloped off quickly in the direction of the departing wagon with the frightened ladies.

After about a mile he overtook the racing wagon and deftly managed to jump from his horse into the driver’s seat of the wagon and grab the reins.

Whoa, whoa, he shouted to the horses while pulling hard on the reins.

As the horses slowed to a walk, the two ladies breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Well, young man, that was certainly a gallant act, Isabella’s mother remarked, On behalf of my daughter and myself let me thank you for your aid. I am Hannah Anderson, and this is my daughter, Isabella.

I am honored to have been of service, he said, Permit me to introduce myself. I am Nathaniel Scudder; I am a student at the College of New Jersey, and I am currently living in Manalapan to learn the physician’s art from Dr. Clark.

Isabella regarded her young helper with interest. She had noticed the earnest but handsome young man already during several church services and wondered who he might be. Perhaps this was a good time to find out.

That is an interesting coincidence, said Isabella, Dr. Clark is our family doctor.

Shall we return to the meeting house to fetch your servant? Nathaniel inquired uncertainly, wondering how best to prolong the encounter, If you are in a hurry, I will be happy to drive you to your estate.

That actually would be very helpful, replied Hannah Anderson, We are expecting guests this afternoon and Dunmore will find his way home. Anderson Manor is just a few miles down this road.

Nathaniel whispered a prayer of thanks for his great good fortune. Together they trotted off in the direction of the Anderson estate.

Nathaniel wracked his brains to figure out how to start a conversation with the object of his obsessions without seeming impertinent to her mother. They came from vastly different worlds, and he feared that they had little in common.

Anderson is an interesting name, he blurted out finally, Is it Danish?

Our family is originally Scottish, answered Isabella. My grandfather was a sea captain from the area of the Moray Firth in Scotland. He came to the Jerseys on the way back from rescuing the poor settlers from Darien.

Could that be the former royal governor, John Anderson? asked Nathaniel knowing full well that the Anderson family was descended from that famous man who had served for decades on the royal council and was renowned for his efforts to promote harmony between the Anglican and dissident Calvinist factions in New Jersey.

The same, answered Isabella, But he was royal governor only for a short time before he died.

His services to the province are well-known, said Nathaniel, eager for an opportunity to show his respect for Isabella’s family.

Unfortunately, his work remains unfinished, interjected Hannah Anderson, There still is so much conflict among the various groups in this province. I wonder if we will ever be able to achieve a real sense of community here.

For that we need leaders who can follow in Governor Anderson’s footsteps, opined Nathaniel, grateful for an opportunity to introduce himself as a budding scholar, I, for one, am optimistic for I think that Governor Belcher is such a person. He was, for example, instrumental in the establishment of my college and insisted that it educate leaders in all fields, not just in theology.

How interesting, answered Isabella, Is that why you came here? Is your family from here?

Well, we are originally from England, but my ancestors came to the Massachusetts Bay Colony several generations ago. My great-grandfather was a very devout man who thought that the freedom to pursue true religion could best be found in the wilderness of New England, Nathaniel explained hesitatingly, fearing that Isabella might jump to the conclusion that his family were religious fanatics.

Oh, I have read about how the first King Charles foolishly persecuted certain kinds of Protestants which finally resulted in that dreadful civil war, interjected Isabella, Your ancestors probably had good reasons to try their luck in the new world. Many of the Scotsmen that came with my grandfather had very similar motives.

Deeply relieved by Isabella’s encouragement and impressed by her knowledge of history, Nathaniel continued, Eventually, some of my family moved to Long Island as New England began to fill up with immigrants less interested in maintaining the religious ideals of the original settlers. New territories to the west seemed to offer not only new land but also a more wholesome environment. I, myself, was born in Huntington, Long Island, but my father decided to move to the Jerseys in the 1740’s. Eventually he bought a mill and a hundred acres of farmland near Princeton in 1749.

Was that for business reasons? asked Isabella.

Isabella’s encouraging manner relaxed Nathaniel and he decided to let her know the whole story. Actually, he had a mill in Huntington and was doing quite well there as well. I think his main motivation was religious.

Really? remarked Hannah Anderson, I would not think the Jerseys offer a more wholesome environment than Long Island.

It had to do with an experience my parents had when I was young, explained Nathaniel, At that time they heard a sermon by Reverend Jonathan Edwards that greatly impressed them.

Ah yes, the famous evangelist, exclaimed Hannah, Reverend Tennent has cited him on a number of occasions. Apparently, he is very eloquent.

Indeed, he is, Nathaniel continued, Attending one of his sermons was quite an experience.

And what was so remarkable about what he had to say? asked Isabella.

It was not so much what he said but the way he said it, explained Nathaniel. He had a way of eliciting strong emotional responses from his listeners and he encouraged people to seek God with the heart more than with the mind. He declared that to be saved it was necessary to have a real conversion experience that touched you to the depth of your soul.

And did his sermon affect you in that way? asked Isabella.

No, as a boy I actually found his bombastic manner to be a bit frightening, answered Nathaniel, But it had a strong effect on many of the participants, including my mother. She was one of the many people there who broke down in tears, in the end almost fainting. My father practically had to carry her home and she stayed in bed for almost a week with a strange sort of fever.

That must have been frightening indeed! exclaimed Isabella.

I was afraid she was going to die, agreed Nathaniel, but in the end she recovered completely and became convinced that she had been born again in the grace of God. The interesting thing was that before that experience she often seemed to be quite unhappy and quarreled often with my father, but after her recovery she was almost always in a good mood and never disagreed with my father again. She docilely went about her duties with never a word of complaint.

That probably pleased your father, commented Hannah with a rueful smile but charmed by the naive boy’s willingness to reveal family secrets.

He was, of course, delighted and became an enthusiastic supporter of the revival project, continued Nathaniel, He read every pamphlet he could get his hands on and became particularly devoted to the sermons of men like Jonathan Dickinson, Jonathan Edwards, Aaron Burr, John Pearson and William Tennent.

Is that the same Reverend Tennent that we heard today? asked Isabella.

No, it was his father who was also the founder of the Log College in Pennsylvania, an institution devoted to training ministers with an emphasis on the theology of direct experience of God’s grace. explained Nathaniel.

Quite a few ministers apparently attended the Log College, commented Hannah, But I don’t think it exists anymore, does it?

That is correct, responded Nathaniel, It operated from 1726 until 1746, but then Dickinson, Edwards, Burr, and several graduates of the Log College decided to try to establish a new institution which would maintain the so-called ‘New Side’ approach to theology but also expand its curriculum to include other subjects. That is what eventually became the College of New Jersey where I am just finishing my studies. When my father heard about the new institution, he immediately decided that I should study there. He assumed, of course, that I would become a minister in the footsteps of the divines he so admired.

And so we will soon be hearing from you from the pulpit? inquired Isabella with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"I am afraid