Part 3
About this time Captain Allan McLane, with a company of infantry and Clow’s dragoons, was endeavoring to win for himself immortal laurels by firing the abatis at the north of the city, which connected the line of the British redoubts. When the flames reddened the sky the ladies, doubtless, clapped their hands with delight, wondering at the beauty of the illumination, which illusion was encouraged by the officers; and later, when the roll-call was sounded along the line and the guns of the redoubts fired, the guests were assured that this was all a part of the celebration, and the dancing continued. Although McLane did not succeed in breaking up the party, as he had hoped, he gave the British officers a fright, which must have considerably marred the enjoyment of the evening for them. The dragoons sent in pursuit of the incendiaries did not succeed in overtaking them, as they found a refuge among the hills of the Wissahickon.
“After the fireworks the company returned, some to dancing and others to a Faro-bank, which was opened by three German officers in one of the Parlours. The Company continued dancing and playing until twelve o’clock, when we were called to Supper, and two folding-doors at the end of the hall being thrown open, we entered a room two hundred feet long by forty wide. The Floor was covered with painted Canvas, and the roof and sides adorned with paintings and ornamented with fifty large mirrors. From the roof hung twelve Lustres, with twenty Spermaceti candles in each. In this room were two Tables, reaching from one end to the other. On the two tables were fifty large, elegant pyramids, with Jellies, Syllabub, Cakes, and Sweetmeats.” Beside this there were various substantials, soup being mentioned as the only viand served hot.
Major André, after describing the decorations of this supper-room, says that “there were four hundred and thirty covers, twelve hundred dishes, and twenty-four black slaves in Oriental dresses, with silver collars and bracelets, ranged in two lines, and bending to the ground as the general and admiral approached the saloon; all these, forming together the most brilliant assemblage of gay objects, and appearing at once as we entered by an easy descent, exhibited a _coup-d’œil_ beyond description magnificent.”
Toward the end of supper, the herald of the Blended Rose, in his habit of ceremony, attended by his trumpeters, entered the saloon and proclaimed the King’s health, the Queen’s, and that of the royal family. After the toast to the King, all the company rose and sang “God Save the King,” which must have been a very trying moment to those Whig ladies present, who through all the enjoyment of the day were doubtless considerably pricked in their consciences. More loyal toasts followed, to the army and navy, their commanders, and finally to the ladies and their knights, the ladies’ toast being: “The Founder of the Feast.”
We are pained to read that some of the gentlemen, among them one of the same party as our quaint journalist, were so ungallant as to remain at table, declaring their intention of devoting the night to Bacchus,--alas for Venus! The guests did not disperse until dawn began to redden the eastern sky, and some tarried until the sun was up.
Here I cannot forbear transcribing some verses written by a lady--Miss Hannah Griffitts--residing in Philadelphia at this time, in which, though an ardent loyalist, she, as a member of the Society of Friends, expressed her indignation against the whole affair. The poem is in answer to the question, “What is it?” and the Quaker lady’s reply rings forth with no uncertain sound.
“A shameful scene of dissipation, The death of sense and reputation; A deep degeneracy of nature, A frolic ‘for the lush of satire.’ A feast of grandeur fit for kings, Formed of the following empty things: Ribbons and gewgaws, tints and tinsel, To glow beneath the historic pencil; (For what though reason now stands neuter, How will it sparkle,--page the future?) Heroes that will not bear inspection, And glasses to affect reflection;
“Triumphant arches raised in blunders, And true Don Quixotes made of wonders. Laurels, instead of weeping willows, To crown the bacchanalian fellows; The sound of victory complete, Loudly re-echoed from defeat; The fair of vanity profound, A madman’s dance,--a lover’s round.
“In short, it’s one clear contradiction To every truth (except a fiction); Condemned by wisdom’s silver rules, The blush of sense and gaze of fools.
“But recollection’s pained to know That ladies joined the frantic show; When female prudence thus can fail, It’s time the sex should wear the veil.”
So ended this afternoon and evening of brilliant and gorgeous pageantry, resembling more nearly a chapter from one of the richly-colored Eastern fairy-tales that delighted our childhood than a story of Colonial days, which was speedily followed by the sober realities of Sir William and Lord Howe’s return to England and by Clinton’s evacuation of Philadelphia.
It may be interesting to follow the fates of those gay beauties who held their brief, brilliant court through that spring afternoon, especially so to that much maligned class who study the science of love and courtship, crudely called match-makers.
Strange as it may seem, none of the queens of the Meschianza married their respective knights. Miss Janet Craig, whose knight was Lieutenant Bygrove, and who has described the whole scene as one of enchantment to her young mind, was never married.
The chief lady of the Knights of the Blended Rose, although spoken of frequently as an English girl, was the daughter of the Rev. Samuel Auchmuty, D.D., of Trinity Church, New York, a devoted loyalist. Miss Auchmuty was with her brother-in-law, Captain Montrésor, chief engineer of General Gage’s army at Boston, to whose skill the success of the fireworks at the Meschianza was largely due.
Williamina Smith, whose picture, with its bright eyes and tip-tilted nose, lies before us, had for her knight Major Tarleton, who appeared with the motto “Swift, vigilant, and bold.” He who was afterward the terror of the South is described as a fine, soldierly fellow of one-and-twenty, who, “when not riding races with Major Gwynne on the commons,” spent his time in making love to the ladies. Miss Smith became the wife of Charles Goldsborough, of Long Neck, Dorset County, Maryland.
The Misses Redman, so often mentioned among the belles of the time, were nieces of the famous Dr. John Redman. Miss Rebecca, whose knight was Monsieur Montluisant[6] (lieutenant of Hessian Chasseurs), with the emblem a sunflower turning to the sun, her motto “_Je vise à vous_,” is said to have been the Queen of the Meschianza, whom Watson describes, many years later, as old and blind, “fast waning from the things that be,” yet able to paint in vivid colors the occurrences of this day. She spoke of André as the life of the company. It is not strange that this brave young officer and elegant and accomplished gentleman, who added so much to the enjoyment of the loyalist ladies of Philadelphia during the British occupation, should have been long held by them in grateful remembrance. We know that he was on terms of intimate friendship with one of these sisters, as it was for her he wrote those tender, plaintive verses, commencing,--
“Return, enraptured hours, When Delia’s heart was mine; When she with wreaths of flowers My temples would entwine.”
For her he cut silhouettes of mutual friends, and, on leaving the city, severed one of the buttons of his coat, which he playfully presented to her as a parting keepsake. Miss Rebecca Redman married Colonel Elisha Lawrence in December, 1779.
Miss Margaret Chew, in whose honor Major André appeared with the motto “No rival,” was married on the ninth anniversary of the Meschianza to Colonel John Eager Howard, of Maryland. The Howards of Belvidere are a well-known Baltimore family, and this young man filled a prominent place in the war of the Revolution. He was present at the battle of White Plains, distinguished himself at Germantown, where so many of our heroes strove in vain to turn the tide of battle, served under Gates in the South, and at the battle of Cowpens decided the fortunes of the day by a successful bayonet charge. At one time, it is said, he held in his hands the swords of seven British officers of the Seventy-First Regiment. After the war he was Governor of Maryland and filled other public offices of importance. Surely, in this case, “the brave deserved the fair.”
One of the most striking figures in this brilliant assemblage was Rebecca Franks, who was as celebrated for her ready wit as was Peggy Shippen for her exquisite beauty and grace. Handsome, witty, and an heiress, combining with these attractions that of being an ardent loyalist, it is not strange that Miss Franks was given a high place at the British revel. She won the affections of Colonel Sir Henry Johnson, who while in Philadelphia was quartered on Edward Penington, a leading Friend, living at the corner of Crown and Race Streets. The marriage took place January 17, 1782, and after the surrender of Yorktown Sir Henry and his bride sailed for England. Colonel Johnson was surprised at Stony Point on the night of July 15, 1779, by Wayne, and made prisoner with all his force. He afterwards distinguished himself in the Irish rebellion, and was created Baronet. Although Cornwallis speaks of Sir Henry as “a wrong-headed blockhead,” and thinks that he has been unduly praised, we are inclined to say that he who was willing to run the gauntlet of Miss Franks’s daring raillery must have been a brave man. She seems to have spared neither friend nor foe and her wit was always telling, whether flashing up in the quick rejoinder, “No; Britons, go home, you mean,” when Sir Henry Clinton ordered the band to play “Britons, Strike Home,” at a New York ball, or in her keen, sharp rebuff when Lieutenant-Colonel Jack Steward, of Maryland, after the evacuation of Philadelphia by the British, appeared before her in a fine suit of scarlet, saying, “I have adopted your colors, my Princess, the better to secure a courteous reception; deign to smile on a true knight.” To this speech Miss Franks made no reply, but, turning to the company who surrounded her, exclaimed, “How the ass glories in the lion’s skin!”
One of this lady’s pointed shafts was directed at General Charles Lee, and this time the daring beauty met her match, for he not only vindicated himself from her charge of having worn “green breeches patched with leather,” but in language more caustic than courtly alluded to her own Jewish ancestry. There is a flavor of the wit of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu and Walpole in these jokes; but they raised a great laugh at the time, and were perhaps of a sort to be better relished in Miss Franks’s future home than in America.
General Winfield Scott gives a description of an interview held with this lady at her residence, at Bath, when years had sadly impaired the beauty that had once captivated all hearts. A bright-eyed old lady in an easy-chair met Scott with an eager, kindly gaze and the query, “Is this the young rebel?” Such were her words, yet, before the conversation ended, Lady Johnson confessed that she had learned to glory in her rebel countrymen and wished that she had been a patriot, too. “Not that heaven had failed to bless her with a good husband, either,” she replied to Sir Henry’s gentle remonstrances.
When the Americans regained possession of Philadelphia an effort was made by the Whigs to exclude from their gatherings those ladies who had taken part in the Meschianza and other British entertainments.[7] With this object in view, a ball was given at the City Tavern “to the young ladies who had manifested their attachment to the cause of virtue and freedom by sacrificing every convenience to the love of their country.”[8] This sounded patriotic enough, but we learn that General Arnold soon after gave an entertainment at which the Tory ladies appeared in full force, which is not to be wondered at in view of the intelligence that Mrs. Robert Morris communicated to her mother about this time: “I must tell you that Cupid has given our little General a more mortal wound than all the hosts of Britons could, unless his present conduct can expiate for his past,--Miss Peggy Shippen is the fair one.”
With Cupid thus taking a hand in the game, and bringing to the feet of one of the brightest of the Tory belles the military commandant of Philadelphia, we can readily believe that General Wayne’s severe strictures upon the foolish fair fell upon unheeding ears:
“Tell those Philadelphia ladies, who attended Howe’s assemblies & levees,” he writes in July, 1778, “that the heavenly, sweet, pretty red-coats--the accomplished gentlemen of the guards & grenadiers have been humbled on the plains of Monmouth.
“The Knights of the _Blended Roses_ and of the _Burning Mount_ have resigned their laurels to Rebel officers, who will lay them at the feet of _those_ virtuous daughters of America, who cheerfully gave up ease and affluence in a city, for liberty and peace of mind in a cottage.”[9]
FOOTNOTES:
[2] It is pleasant to learn that Mr. Joseph Wharton, the owner of Walnut Grove, if proud was also benevolent, as we find his name among liberal contributors to one of the first Philadelphia almshouses.
[3] This sketch, by Major André, is in the possession of Mr. Edward Shippen, of Philadelphia.
[4] “We all know of Burgoyne’s surrender, but hardly one knows Burgoyne’s comedies, and yet there are few cleverer or more brilliant, of a second order, than ‘The Heiress,’ and ‘Maid of Oaks.’ In a letter, dated New York, June 2, 1777, he says, ‘You cannot imagine anything half so beautiful as this country. It is impossible to conceive anything so delightful. Lady Holland, in spite of her politics, would, I am sure, feel for it, if she could see the ruin and desolation we have introduced into the most beautiful and, I verily believe, happiest part of the universe.’”--_World Essays_: William B. Reed, pp. 176, 177.
[5] From a letter of the late Lawrence Lewis, Jr., written in 1879.
[6] It appears that this knight with the shining name and emblem had not a reputation to match them. We learn that he entered the army only to get to America, was discharged, tried to join the Colonial army, and was seized and sent to England. (German Allied Troops, 1776-1783, p. 333.)
[7] Fred. D. Stone. Pennsylvania Magazine, vol. iii. p. 336.
[8] Watson’s Annals of Philadelphia, vol. ii. p. 297.
[9] Biographical Sketch of General Anthony Wayne, Hazard’s Register, p. 389.
Amid elaborate ceremonials attending the reception and inauguration of the first President of the Republic, we find some homely touches of nature, as when those two admirable housewives Mrs. Washington and Mrs. Adams were detained at home, in April and May, 1789, by domestic duties, and so missed all the joyful demonstrations along the route, as well as the brave welcome accorded their distinguished husbands in the city of New York. Mrs. Washington was busied in putting her household in order, and shipping china, cut glass, silver-ware, and linen from Mount Vernon to the capital, while from John Adams’s letters we gather that the wife, whom he so trusted that he permitted her to dispose of sheep, cows, and other live-stock, on her own responsibility, was attending to such matters at Braintree, Massachusetts, prior to the removal of her household goods to the fine country-place at Richmond Hill that Mr. Adams had rented for the season.[10]
Although Mr. Samuel Breck, recently arrived from Europe, found New York in 1787 “a poor town, with about twenty-three thousand people, not yet recovered from its Revolutionary wounds” and the great fire that swept over its western portion, he is pleased, two years later, to admire the improvements recently made, especially some beautiful houses built on Broadway by Mr. Macomb, one of which was occupied by General Knox, the Secretary of War. As soon as it transpired that New York was to be the meeting-place of the new Congress, and that General Washington was elected President, the selection of a suitable residence for the Chief Magistrate became a matter of considerable interest in Republican circles. The President later occupied Mr. Macomb’s house on Broadway near Bowling Green, subsequently known as the Mansion House and Bunker’s Hotel; but his first residence was the house of Walter Franklin, as is proved by a letter written from New York, April 30, 1789, which with other family papers furnishes us some interesting facts relating to this old homestead, and its renovation preparatory to the advent of the President and his wife, that have not yet appeared in the histories of the time. The clever chronicler is Mrs. William T. Robinson, and the letter is addressed to Miss Kitty Wistar, of Brandywine, afterwards Mrs. Sharples, through the courtesy of whose descendants it has come into the writer’s hands.
“Great rejoicing in New York,” she says, “on the arrival of General Washington. An elegant Barge decorated with an awning of Sattin, 12 oarsmen drest in white frocks and blue ribbons, went down to E. Town [Elizabeth] last fourth day to bring him up. A Stage was erected at the Coffee House wharf covered with a carpet for him to step on, where a company of light horse, one of Artillery, and most of the Inhabitants were waiting to receive him.[11] They Paraded through Queen Street in great form, while the music, the Drums and ringing of bells were enough to stun one with the noise. Previous to his coming Uncle Walter’s house in Cherry Street was taken for him and every room furnished in the most elegant manner.
“The evening after his Excellency’s arrival a general Illumination took place, excepting among Friends, and those styled Anti-Federalists: the latter’s windows suffered some, thou may imagine. As soon as the General has sworn in, a grand exhibition of fire-works is to be displayed, which it is expected will be to-morrow. There is scarcely anything talked of now but General Washington and the Palace.”
The palace referred to is, evidently, the former residence of Walter Franklin, situated at the corner of Pearl and Cherry Streets, then owned by his widow, who had married Mr. Samuel Osgood, Postmaster-General under the new administration. Watson says that the Franklin House on Pearl Street was “No. 1 in pre-eminence,” and, from the wealth and position of its owner, it was evidently considered the best in the city for the purpose. Mrs. Robinson describes it as having been very sumptuously fitted up; and so it doubtless was, according to the prevailing idea of elegance. Miss Wistar’s correspondent adds
“Thou must know that Uncle Osgood and Duer were appointed to procure a house and furnish it; accordingly they pitched on their wives as being likely to do it better. Aunt Osgood and Lady Kitty Duer had the whole management of it. I went the morning before the General’s arrival to look at it. The house really did honour to my Aunt and Lady Kitty, they spared no pains nor expense in it. I have not done yet, my dear, is thee not almost tired? The best of furniture in every room, and the greatest quantity of plate and China that I ever saw before. The whole of the first and second Story is papered, and the floor covered with the richest kind of Turkey and Wilton Carpets.”
The Mr. Duer spoken of by Mrs. Robinson is Colonel William Duer, who had early in life been aide-de-camp to Lord Clive in India, and who later held important positions under the Federal government. His wife was one of the daughters of General William Alexander, claimant to the Scottish earldom of Stirling. She consequently figured in New York society as Lady Kitty Duer, giving, with her own sister, Lady Mary Watts, and Lady Temple, a flavor of British aristocracy to republican circles. Lady Kitty is described by John Quincy Adams as “one of the sweetest-looking women in the city,”--which testimony is scarcely corroborated by her portrait in the exaggerated coiffure of the day.
Walter Franklin’s house on Cherry Street, and that of his brother Samuel, which was around the corner on Pearl Street, were both near the shipping quarter of the town, in which respect they resembled fashionable Philadelphia residences of the same period. A number of interesting family traditions cluster about these fine old houses, in which a bevy of gay girls was gathered together, who charmed the British officers during their occupation of the city, just as their Quaker sisters were doing in old Philadelphia. Some of the officers were quartered on the Franklins, among them Lord Rawdon and Admiral Lord Richard Howe, who respectively commanded the army and the fleet. Sally Franklin, the writer of the letter from which we have quoted, was then a young girl, and a very beautiful one. Her marriage with Mr. Robinson took place while the British had possession of New York. She was evidently a great favorite with the officers in command, who begged to be permitted to attend her wedding in Quaker meeting. This request was refused, on the plea that the wedding was to be a very quiet one. British officers, as Miss Rebecca Franks has informed us, were not accustomed to take no for an answer, unless accompanied with shot and shell. Accordingly, on the morning of the marriage, when the beautiful bride, in her white silk dress and white bonnet, stood in the quaint old meeting, listening to the words of her lover, “I take this Friend, Sarah Franklin, to be my wedded wife,” a sudden sound of footsteps and clattering of swords against the benches was heard, and, lo! Lord Rawdon, Lord Howe, and a train of young officers, resplendent in gay uniforms and gold lace, stood within the solemn enclosure of the meeting. They seated themselves, with malice aforethought, on a long bench opposite the bride, whose turn had now come to speak. Trembling, and carefully avoiding the eyes of the strangers, who had vowed that they would make her smile in the midst of the ceremony, she performed her part, declaring her intention to take Friend William to be her wedded husband. When the marriage certificate was signed, the names of Lord Howe, Lord Rawdon, and the other officers were appended, beautiful Sarah Robinson showing her forgiving spirit still further by allowing those, among the intruders, who were well known to her to return to the house and partake of the wedding-feast.