This article first appeared in the Polish Genealogical Society of California Newsletter, January 2004 Since the 1920s, the library of the Schwenkfelders, a religious sect that left what is now Silesian territory in Poland to settle in Pennsylvania beginning in 1734, has preserved a letter written by a woman who hosted General Casimir Pulaski for nine days at a critical period in his career. Yet, all the books published on the first cavalry general in General Gorge Washington's Army, no writer has picked up this letter and run with it. Of course, though many have seen the letter, or heard about it, it is necessary to dig out the information from other sources to learn exactly the details of Pulaski's life and tie them to the farmhouse where the letter was written.This is, then, a review of the time October 8-16, 1777, Pulaski spent in a a farmhouse in lower Salford Township. Sixteen miles from Philadelphia and slowly and unexpectedly confronted each problem which trickled forth, as if from a hidden icebox. After the battle of Germantown on October 4, 1777 General Pulaski's cavalry four regiments, which each acted for the most part independently until they were placed in his hands a short time before, covered the retreat of Washington's ragged army by several roads to Perkiomen creek, a tributary of the Schuylkill River in eastern Pennsylvania.
Lord Cornwallis chased them with two battalions of British and Hessian grenadiers and a squadron of dragoons for eight miles on Skippack Road to a tavern known as Blue Bell. Whether Cornwallis stopped there for a drink or bite to eat, as is likely, he dropped the pursuit of Washington's troops at that point and returned to Germantown. For three or four days Washington made his headquarters at the Pennypacker house, near the present village of Schwenksville, where he considered a place to rest and refresh his troops, and on Wednesday morning, October eighth, led them eastward three or four miles to the heart of the Schwenkfelder country between Perkiomen and Skippack creek. He established his headquarters at the home of Peter Wentz on Skippack Road, 14 miles to the northwest of Germantown where earlier, in a second floor bedroom, he decided to repeat his success at Trenton by a surprise attack upon the 8,000 British troops at Germantown.
Hoffman House
It was then the Rev. Christopher Hoffman, a farmer, preacher, teacher and bookbinder, and his wife, anna Rosins Drescher, whom he married May 15, 1753, were surprised to find General Pulaski and his dragoons on their 83-acre farm on the east bank of the Skippack Creek in Lower Salford Township. He was 50 and she 62 years old and they had no children. The two-story house they lived in, 38 by 38 feet, was built of stone (now stuccoed) and was heated with two fireplaces. Pulaski and his comrades felt comfortable staying with the old couple.
Like his father, who brought him to America in 1734, when he was seven years old, Rev. Christopher Hoffman was a Schwenkfelder minister but spent some time binding books for his religious group and selling meat, which he processed in the cellar of his farmhouse, and other farm products. Edward Dybicz, who has tracked the Pulaski corps in Montgomery County, where he lived for over seven decades, suspects that Washington's army "lived on food supplied by the Schwenkfelder farmers of that area."
For nine days Pulaski and his associates enjoyed two fireplaces, a large kitchen, and bedrooms on the second floor. As the weather was a little chilly and rained hard the second week of October, the fireplaces in the house were probably aglow when Pulaski arrived. Somehow Rosins Hoffman, who was born of German parents in Ober Harpoersdorf surrounded by some Polish families, and her husband, who was fluent in German, English, Latin and other languages, got along with their military guests.
Nash's Funeral
No sooner had General Pulaski found shelter with the Hoffmans than Brigadier General Francis Nash, who led the North Carolina forces in the army, died in a farmhouse about two miles away in Towamencin Township. Nash, for whom Nashville, Tennessee was named, was the highest ranking American officer who lost his life in the battle of Germantown.
Washington sent an order early in the morning of October ninth that all officers must attend Nash's military funeral at ten o'clock and "pay this respect to the brave man who died in the defense of his country." After a solemn sermon, two lines of Washington's officers were formed in Towamencin Mennonite cemetery, near the present village of Kulpsville, and they wept as Nash's body was carried between them to his grave.
As other sources noted, Ignace (also written John) Zielinski, and a Frenchman, Chevalier Jacques de Baillivy, later known in Trenton, New Jersey, as Dr. Nicholas Bellville, both of whom came with Pulaski in June 1777, on the brigantine Massachusetts, were also quartered with the Hoffman family. The two were not yet officers in Washington's army; they were then just Pulaski's bodyguards. In addition, the cavalry regiments, including Colonel Stephen Moylan's green-coated Fourth Continental Dragoons, were encamped on the large farm of Charles Kreibel and the 22 acres of Anna Drescher, both of whom were the Hoffman's neighbors and related to them.
Moylan Court Martial
No one knows what Pulaski was doing when three of his men decided one evening to go horseback riding in the countryside. In the course of the evening, they met Colonel Stephen Moylan, the Irish-born leader of the green-coated Fourth Continental Dragoons, which were recently handed over to Pulaski. Zielinski said something to him in French. Whether he was a snob, still envious that Congress did not elect him "Commander of Horse" on September 15, or whatever, Moylan, who was well educated in Paris replied that he would not talk to an ordinary person in French or any other language. Zielinski felt insulted. The war of words continued.
Then Zielinski unbuttoned his coat, handed a lance over to Chevalier de Baillivy, and picked up a stick on the side of the road. He pointed it at Moylan, but it was deflected. Zielinski moved back and Moylan drew his sword and took back the lance from de Baillivy. He used it to hold Moylan away from him. Somehow the lance knocked Moylan off his horse. Zielinski rode away. Moylan got back on his horse and chased Zielinski.
Suddenly, when Moylan caught up to Zielinski, Nathaniel Fenton, who had accompanied the two horse riders from Pulaski's quarters, found himself in the middle of the argument. Coming from a peaceful farm in Mansfield, Connecticut, where he was born in 1735 Fenton who joined Col. Sheldon's Light Dragoons in 1777, wanted no part of it. But Moylan ordered him to confine Zielinski to his quarters.
When the men returned to the Hoffman house and told their stories, Pulaski was outraged at Moylan's behavior. Pulaski then charged him with "ungentleman-like action in striking John Zielinski, a gentleman and an officer in the Polish service," and using "irritating language."
It didn't take General Washington long to comply with Pulaski's wish to have Colonel Moylan court-martialed. He appointed a lackadaisical Virginia medical doctor, Colonel Theodorick Bland, First Regiment of Continental Light Dragoons, to conduct a hearing. Before the date was set, Bland moved to different quarters in Upper Dublin Township and delayed the hearing to October 22.
Pulaski, however, was just as pokey as Bland. He waited until the day of the hearing to ask Bland for an adjournment. Due to stormy weather, the case was not heard until Oct. 24. De Beillivy's deposition, which I used to tell the story, was apparently not used against Moylan; it was dated December 4. Much more went on after Moylan was acquitted of the charges. Moylan continued to excerbate his relations with Pulaski and Zielinski and the outcome was troublesome, even to Lafayette and Kosciuszko. After Pulaski resigned early in 1778, Washington put Moylan in charge of the four cavalry regiments. [EP]