“In the spring of 1756, the people in Mount-Holly and parts adjacent, found their curiosity much awakened by reports, that a stranger had taken up his abode in a wood belonging to Joseph Burr, on the Burlington road; that he appeared to be a middle aged man, was a foreigner, was totally ignorant of the English language, and was dressed in the uniform of a French soldier; that he had frequently been seen at the neighboring farmhouses, begging victuals. The people, suspecting from his frequent visits that he lived somewhere near them, had followed him, and found that he had dug out the ground under the side of a large tree, which had been blown up by the roots, until there was room enough for him to creep into it.”
Thus is the first account of Francis Adam Joseph Phyle, better known as the Hermit of Mount Holly. Like many old stories in Burlington County that have been passed down through generations of local family lore, or those found in old county history books, it can be challenging to discern fact from fiction. After all, some people still claim a 1732 article reporting a public burning of suspected witches in Mount Holly to be true when it was just a story invented by Benjamin Franklin for print.
The story of the Hermit turns up from time to time as several incidents were recorded in the eighteenth century and then brought to light years later. It’s without question he was a real person who lived just beyond the boundaries of developed society, even in the eighteenth century. His presence, one that shunned the modernity of the age, continues to intrigue us.
Where he resided is still up for debate, but most modern historians think it was likely about where Route 206 meets Burrs Road in Westampton Township. A letter from June 1780 states: “The wood in which he took up his abode, hath its north side bounded by the road leading from Mount Holly to the city of Burlington, distant four miles from the latter, and a little more than two from the former, in which is yet to be seen the tree (a white oak of great dimensions) under the south side of which he formed his subterranean lodgment.”
But what drew the attention of so many contemporaries was the fact that the Hermit apparently did not rely on fire for survival. Instead, he climbed into a dug out hole, referred to as a cave, that was only wide enough he could barely stretch himself out to sleep. A nearby stream (an offshoot of Barker’s Brook that still exists) was likely his water source. In 1758, Hannah Callender of Philadelphia “went to see the Hermit” and noted in her diary the language barrier prevented learning anything of his origins.
Before becoming the Hermit, Francis Phyle came from Switzerland and joined up with the French Army when they came over to Canada to fight the British during the French and Indian War. According to testimony given to Col. Charles Read around 1755, Phyle soon grew wary of the soldier life and deserted to the British lines, and escaped yet again.
Making his way south, he came across a patch of land in Burlington County and decided it would be a good place to live, or squat. Nevertheless, Read, also a state judge, took sympathy with Phyle and declared he was entitled to live peacefully in his cave, and that given his extreme circumstances, locals should pay him charity. What led Phyle to abandon society and live a life in solitude is unknown, but there are hints in a contemporary letter suggesting past sins followed him to New Jersey.
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What is clear is that during the Revolutionary War, the Hermit was a local celebrity, of sorts. Several accounts exist of soldier and civilian paying him a visit. As one letter stated, Phyle had learned just enough English to “discriminate between those whose visits prodded from laudable motives, and those of vacant minds led there by idle curiosity.”
No doubt at a time when wild stories filled the mind of every citizen, locals were quick to pass on the tale to those traveling through the area. One letter states: “not even in the memorable winter of ’76 and ’77, when the British troops overrun Jersey, for then a partial action took place between a detachment from the American army, and two regiments commanded by the Baron Donop, the scene of action [The Battle of Iron Works Hill] was near the dwelling of Francis, but he never left his habitation until all was still.”
In November 1777, just as the British army had settled in Philadelphia, and effectively pushed most of the Continental army out of reach of recapturing it, several regiments of Americans gathered at Mount Holly to plot a potential counterattack. Maj. Gen. Nathanael Greene held command in town for about a week. At that point, the only success in the Philadelphia Campaign came at Red Bank on Oct. 22. Every other engagement had been a British victory, and now Philadelphia, the rebel capital, was under British control.
At Mount Holly, Capt. Paul Brigham of the Connecticut Line recorded in his diary that, along with several other regiments, he entered the town on Nov. 21 after being part of the initial defense of Fort Mifflin along the Delaware River. Brigham stood guard for five hours upon arriving, and after Colonel Daniel Morgan’s riflemen arrived the following day, he spent time walking around town observing “the iron works and slitting mill.”
After taking a day to get the regiment in order and obtaining some provisions, Brigham recorded: “I went out of Town to an old Hermit that had Lived 24 years in the woods without any fire as he informed me. His Beard was about 4 inches Long and Somewhat Gray as he was 64 years old….”
Unfortunately, we get no more than these two lines. The Continental detachment soon departed Mount Holly and abandoned any offensive maneuvers for encamping the winter at Valley Forge.
Evidently, Brigham was not the only Connecticut soldier who paid the Hermit a visit. According to his diary, Surgeon Albigence Waldo met him three days later: “Near this Town in a Wood, a Hermit has dwelt these 27 years, living on Bread and water. His bed is a hole dug in the ground about one foot and a half below the surface, and cover’d at pleasure with a board—over this is built a small bark but hardly big enough for a man to sit up in. When he goes to bed he crawls into his hut and at the further end slips into his hole which he calls his grave, drawing over the Board and goes to sleep.”
Waldo goes further, adding more color to the state of mind of Phyle at this period. “He crawls night and morning on his hands and knees about two rods to a particular tree to pray. He says he was warned of God in a remarkable Dream when he first came to American to take this course of Life.” Its apparent Waldo was able to communicate with him on some level. Phyle had many books in Latin in his cave, and Waldo discovered he spoke German. The old man wished for Death as his method of living was destroying his body, but he maintained that it was penance for past sins. Waldo then stated, “He murdered his own sister, and that he killed a Gentlemen in a Duel while an officer in the French Service. He was also in the German Service among his countrymen the Germans.”
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Whether those were revelations discussed in person or rumors passed to Waldo by locals is unclear. Only a few months later, Phyle was found dead in his cave one morning in January 1778. A coffin was made in Mount Holly and brought to the site where his body was removed. The people recorded that among his body “were nothing more than old blankets, a small pair of scissors, with which he clipped his beard, and a blank book, in which he had drew or delineated sundry religious pieces, with a black-lead pencil, found in the book.”9 Phyle was buried in the old Friends burial ground located on Woodlane Road in Mount Holly.
He would greet every visitor by kissing their hand and accepted any gifts given to him, except money, according to Surgeon Waldo. Whether a criminal on the run, a man of deep religious faith, or perhaps a mixture of both, the Hermit captivated locals of Mount Holly, Burlington and surrounding towns for nearly 25 years in the mid eighteenth century.
A mere 10 years after his death, the first edition of the pamphlet used for this article was printed in 1788. A second edition followed in 1811. And through the handful of letters and diaries of contemporaries, we know the Hermit made them wonder.
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