sister, were very much scared by a false report that the dreaded
Hessians, who comprised a large part of the British army, were
approaching, had "actually turned into our lane," writes Sally, and she
adds "Well, the fright went off," but hearing that the forces were
momentarily drawing nearer, she remarks, "I expect soon to be in the
midst of one army or t'other." Then while looking for some great
happening, she had another fright, for a party of Virginia light horse
rode up to the door, and mistaking the red and blue of their uniforms
for the British colours, she fled to the shelter of the house, with, as
she says, "wings tack'd to my feet."
An interval of several weeks then passed, in which nothing of any great
moment happened, as she explains in the brief notes in her diary. Then
comes a stirring day to chronicle for Debby's benefit. In the morning
she hears "the greatest drumming, fifing and rattling of waggons that
ever was heard" and goes a short distance to see the American army as it
marches to take a position nearer the city. On that same day comes
General Smallwood, commander of the Maryland troops, with his officers,
and a large guard of soldiers to the farm, and asks to be allowed to
make it his headquarters. Permission having been given by Hannah Foulke,
one of the officers wrote over the door:
"Smallwood's Quarters"
to secure the house from straggling soldiers, and then the regiment rode
away, leaving a flutter of excitement in the hearts of the girls, at the
thought of having such a novel experience as a house full of soldiers.
With delightful candour Sally tells us that she and her sister and
cousins at once "put on their best dresses" and "put their lips in order
for conquest," and then awaited the evening with what patience they
could summon. At last the general and his staff and soldiers arrived,
when at once the yard and house were in confusion, and glittered with
military equipments. A Dr. Gould who was at that time staying with the
Wisters, being a friend of General Smallwood's, presented him and his
officers ceremoniously to the family of which they were to be a part,
and there is no doubt that from soldier to General all looked with
covert or open admiration on pretty, saucy Sally, who despite her fear
of the military, showed great courage, not to say pleasure, in their
near presence!
At once she looked them over, man by man, with a critical eye, and
passed judgment on them in her diary, relating, that to her surprise,
they seem "very peaceable sort of men," and adds, "they eat like other
folks, talk like them, and behave themselves with elegance, so I will
not be afraid of them, no I won't," and winds up her letter with,
"Adieu. I am going to my chamber to dream, I suppose of bayonets and
swords, sashes, guns and epaulets."
On the following day, she writes to Debby, "I dare say thee is impatient
to know my sentiments of the officers, so while Somnus embraces them and
the house is still, take their characters according to their rank," and
then gives a vivid pen picture of each one of the officers, her
trenchant description showing her to be no respecter of persons. Major
William Truman Stoddard, a nephew of the General, and not much older
than Sally herself, she at first describes as appearing "cross and
reserved," but her opinion of the young officer materially changes. On
the second day of their acquaintance she writes, "Well, here comes the
glory, the Major, so bashful, so famous; I at first thought him cross
and proud, but I was mistaken. He cannot be extolled for graces of
person, but for those of the mind he may be justly celebrated." On the
third day, "the Major is very reserv'd, nothing but 'Good morning' or
'your servant,' madam," and she adds that she has heard that he is worth
a fortune of thirty thousand pounds, but is so bashful that he can
hardly look at the ladies, after which information she roguishly
remarks in an aside, "Excuse me, good sir, I really thought you were not
clever; if 'tis bashfulness only, we will drive that away!"
At the end of several days, Sally seems to be much interested in the
Major, but to have made little headway in getting acquainted with him,
and the only entry concerning him is "The Gen'l still here. The Major
still bashful."
Then on a Sunday evening when she was playing with her little brother,
the Major drew up a chair and began to play with the child too, and
Sally says, "One word brought us together and we chatted the greatest
part of the evening." This seems to have broken the ice between them
completely and two days later while Liddy and Sally were reading she
tells us that, "The Major was holding a candle for the Gen'l who was
reading a newspaper. He looked at us, turned away his eyes, looked
again, put the candlestick down, up he jumped, out of the door he went."
But presently he returned and seated himself on the table begging them
for a song, which Liddy said Sally could give, and they laughed and
talked for an hour and Sally found him "very clever, amiable and
polite." In the same letter Sally exclaimed, "Oh, Debby, I have a
thousand things to tell thee. I shall give thee so droll an account of
my adventures that thee will smile. 'No occasion of that, Sally,'
methinks I hear thee say, 'for thee tells me every trifle.' But child,
thee is mistaken, for I have not told thee half the civil things that
are said of us SWEET creatures at General Smallwood's Quarters!" Sly
little Mistress Sally!
On the next day, "A polite 'Good morning' from the Major. More sociable
than ever. No wonder, a stoic could not resist such affable damsels as
we are!"--Conceited little monkey--Again, "the Major and I had a little
chat to ourselves this evening. No harm, I assure thee. He and I are
friends."
That letter also recounts the coming of Colonel Guest, who at once fell
a victim to the charms of Liddy, in telling which to Debby, Sally
remarks, "When will Sally's admirers appear? Ah! that indeed. Why, Sally
has not charms sufficient to pierce the heart of a soldier. But still I
won't despair. Who knows what mischief I may yet do?"--Ah, yes, little
coquette, who knows?
Two days later, she writes, "Liddy, Betsey, Stoddard and myself, seated
by the fire chatted away an hour in lively conversation. I can't pretend
to write all he said, but he shone in every subject we talked of," and
again, "As often as I go to the door, so often have I seen the Major. We
chat passingly, as 'A fine day, Miss Sally,' Yes, very fine, Major.
"Another very charming conversation with the young Marylander, He has by
his unexceptionable deportment engaged my esteem."--Lucky Major!
All too soon for the girls at the farm came a command from head-quarters
that the Army was to march on to Whitemarsh, and the soldiers' two weeks
of playtime was over. On the day before the leave-taking, Liddy, Betsey
and Sally, the latter dressed in a white muslin gown, a big bonnet, and
long gloves, started down the garden path to take a walk. On the porch
stood two officers watching the retreating figures. One was the Major of
Sally's fancy, the other a Major Leatherberry, of whom she tersely says,
"He is a sensible fellow who will not swing for want of a tongue!"
In describing the incident, Sally says, "As we left the house, I
naturally looked back (of course you did, little coquette) when behold,
the two majors came fast after us, and begged leave to attend us. No
fear of a refusal!" she adds, and together the four young people rambled
through the woodland, flaming with autumn tints, by the bank of the
overflowing Wissahickon, and Sally says that they shortened the way with
lively conversation, and that nothing happened that was not entirely
consistent with the strictest rules of politeness and decorum, but tells
of pouting when Major Stoddard tried to console her for tearing her
muslin petticoat, and of flouting Major Leatherberry, when noticing the
locket against her white throat, he gallantly quoted:
"On her white neck a sparkling cross she wore,
That Jews might kiss or infidels adore,"
but remarks that as a whole the little excursion was full of delights
for each one of the party, and it was the last good time they had
together for several weeks, as the farewell came on the next day. Sally
and the Major seem to have felt the parting keenly, and Sally
acknowledges to Debby, "I am sorry, for when you have been with
agreeable people, 'tis impossible not to feel regret when they bid you
adieu, perhaps forever. When they leave us we shall be immurred in
solitude," adding tersely, "The Major looks dull."--Poor Major!
Later she adds, "It seems strange not to see our house as it used to be.
We are very still. No rattling of waggons, glittering of musquets. The
beating of the distant drum is all we hear."
The journal records no other item of special interest for several weeks,
except the arrival of two Virginia officers, which somewhat cheers
Sally, although she describes them in none too glowing terms. She says,
"Warring, an insignificant piece enough. Lee sings prettily and talks a
great deal--how good turkey hash and fry'd hominy is!--A pretty
discourse to entertain ladies! Nothing lowers a man more in my
estimation than talking of eating. Lee and Warring are proficient in
this science. Enough of them!"
On the 5th of December, Sally has forgotten all trifling details in a
new excitement. She writes, "Oh gracious, Debby, I am all alive with
fear. The English have come out to attack (we imagine) our army. They
are on Chestnut Hill, our army three miles this side. What will become
of us, only six miles distant?
"We are in hourly expectation of an engagement. I fear we shall be in
the midst of it. Heaven defend us from so dreadful a sight. The battle
of Germantown, and the horrors of that day are recent in my mind. It
will be sufficiently dreadful if we are only in hearing of the firing,
to think how many of our fellow creatures are plung'd into the boundless
ocean of eternity, few of them prepared to meet their fate. But they are
summoned before an all merciful Judge from whom they have a great deal
to hope." (Dear little Sally, you are not so frivolous, after all!)
Two days later Major Stoddard appeared unexpectedly, to Sally's
unconcealed joy. He was looking thin and sick, and was taken care of by
Mrs. Foulke, but said if he heard firing, he should go with the troops,
sick or well, which Sally calls "heroic," and at once, fearing he may
flee hastily, says, "I dressed myself, silk and cotton gown. It is made
without an apron. I feel quite awkwardish and prefer the girlish
dresses."
The Major improved so rapidly that on the following day he drank tea
with the Wisters, and Sally and he had a little private chat, when he
promised if there should be a battle to come back with a full account
of it. Later in the afternoon firing was distinctly heard, and it was
supposed that the opposing armies had begun an engagement. This was
Howe's famous demonstration against Washington's position at Whitemarsh,
and a general battle was expected by everyone, but nothing occurred
except several severe skirmishes. However, at the sound of platoon
firing, the Major ordered his horse saddled, and if the firing had not
decreased, could not have been dissuaded from going, though still far
from strong, and Sally shows great pride in his bravery, as she calls
it.
The next day's entry tells Debby, "Rejoice with us, my dear. The British
have returned to the city--charming news this!" They reached
Philadelphia on that evening, plundering farms on their way, as they
marched in. Sally devoutly adds, "May we ever be thankful to the
Almighty Disposer of events for his care and protection of us while
surrounded with dangers.
"Major went to the army. Nothing for him to do so he returned."
On the following day she writes, "Our Army moved, as we thought to go
into Winter quarters, but we hear there is a party of the enemy gone
over the Schuylkill, so our Army went to look at them.
"I observed to Stoddard: 'So you are going, to leave us to the English.'
"'Yes, ha, ha, ha! Leave _you_ to the English!'" was his answer, and the
glance that accompanied it spoke volumes.
At noon he was gone again, leaving Sally pining for new fields to
conquer. She did not have to wait long as there were already at the farm
two officers, whom she now deigns to notice, and describes as "A Captain
Lipscomb and a Mr. Tilly;" the latter she calls, "a wild noisy mortal
who appears bashful with girls," and she adds, "We dissipated the
Major's bashfulness, but I doubt we have not so good a subject now. He
keeps me in perpetual humour but the creature has not addressed one
civil thing to me since he came." An incentive to exert all her charms
and force a victory, Mistress Sally!
It was now nearly the Christmas season, and Stoddard was again at the
farm, for a brief visit, when an amusing incident took place. Sally was
sitting in her aunt's parlour with the other girls, darning an apron
when Major Stoddard joined them, and began to compliment her on her
skill, with the needle.
"Well, Miss Sally, what would you do if the British were to come here?"
he asked.
"Do!" exclaimed Sally, "be frightened just to death!"
He laughed and said he would escape their rage by getting behind the
figure of a British grenadier which was upstairs. "Of all things I would
like to frighten Tilly with it," he said. "Pray, ladies, let's fix it in
his chamber to-night."
"If thee will take all of the blame we will assist thee," said wary
Sally.
"That I will," he replied, and then they made their plan to stand the
life-size figure of the grenadier which was of a most martial
appearance, at the door which opened into the road (the house had four
rooms on a floor with a wide entry running through), with another figure
which would add to the deceit. One of the servants was to stand behind
them, others to serve as occasion offered.
"After half an hour's converse," Sally says, "in which we raised our
expectations to the highest pitch, we parted." On that evening this is
what happened, according to Sally's chronicle. She says:--"In the
beginning of the event I went to Liddy and begged her to secure the
swords and pistols which were in their parlour. The Marylander, hearing
our voices joined us. I told him of our proposal. He approved of it and
Liddy went in and brought her apron full of swords and pistols.
"When this was done Stoddard joined the officers. We girls went and
stood at the first landing of the stairs. The gentlemen were very merry
and chatting on public affairs when a negro opened the door, candle in
his hand, and said, 'There's somebody at the door that wishes to see
you.'
"'Who, all of us?' said Tilly.
"'Yes, sir,' answered the boy.
"They all rose, the Major, as he afterwards said, almost dying with
laughter, and walked into the entry. Tilly first, in full expectation of
news.
"The first object that struck his view was a British soldier. In a
moment his ears were saluted with, 'Is there any rebel officer here?' in
a thundering voice.
"Not waiting for a second word, Tilly darted like lightning out at the
front door, through the yard, bolted o'er the fence. Swamps, fences,
thorn-hedges and ploughed fields no way impeded his retreat. He was soon
out of hearing.
"The woods echoed with, 'Which way did he go? Stop him! Surround the
house!' Lipscomb had his hand on the latch, intending to attempt his
escape. Stoddard, acquainted him with the deceit.
"'Major Stoddard,' said I, 'Go call Tilly back. He will lose
himself,--indeed he will.' Every word interrupted with a Ha! Ha!
"At last he rose and went to the door and what a loud voice could avail
in bringing him back, he tried.
"Figure to thyself this Tilly, of a snowy evening, no hat, shoes down at
the heel, hair unty'd, flying across meadows, creeks and mud holes.
Flying from what? Why, a bit of painted wood.
"After a while our bursts of laughter being less frequent yet by no
means subsided; in full assembly of girls and officers, Tilly entered.
"The greatest part of my responsibility turned to pity. Inexpressible
confusion had taken entire possession of his countenance, his fine hair
hanging dishevelled down his shoulders, all splashed with mud, yet his
fright, confusion and race had not divested him of his beauty. He smiles
as he trips up the steps, briskly walked five or six steps, then stopped
and took a general survey of us all.
"'Where have you been, Mr. Tilly?' asked one officer. (We girls were
silent.)
"'I really imagined,' said Stoddard, 'that you were gone for your
pistols. I follow'd you to prevent danger,' an excessive laugh at each
question, which it was impossible to restrain.
"'Pray, where are your pistols, Tilly?'
"He broke his silence by the following expression, 'You may all go to
the devil!'" In recording this, Sally somewhat shocked says, "I never
heard him utter an indecent expression before."
"At last his good nature gained a complete ascendance over his anger,
and he joined heartily in the laugh. Stoddard caught hold of his coat.
'Come, look at what you ran from,' he exclaimed, and dragged him to the
door.
"Tilly gave it a look, said it was very natural, and by the singularity
of his expression gave fresh cause for diversion. We all retired,--for
to rest our faces,--if I may say so.
"Well, certainly these military folk will laugh all night. Such
screaming I never did hear. Adieu to-night."
Such incidents as that did good service in giving a touch of humour to
the soldiers' duller duties when in camp, and the vivid picture of Tilly
and the grenadier comes down to us through the years as a refreshing
incident of Revolutionary days.
On the next day Sally writes, "I am afraid they will yet carry the joke
too far. Tilly certainly possesses an uncommon share of good nature or
he could not tolerate these frequent teasings." Then she adds what is
most important of all,--
"Ah, Deborah, the Major is going to leave us entirely, just going. I
will see him first."
And on the next day, "He has gone. I saw him pass the bridge. The woods
hindered us from following him farther. I seem to fancy he will return
in the evening."
But he never did, and it is left to our imagining how much of her heart
the gallant young officer took away with him. Whether much or little,
there was no evidence of her loss of spirits, and other admirers came
and went, in quick succession and apparently entirely engaged her
attention.
On the 20th of December, she writes, "General Washington's army have
gone into winter quarters at Valley Forge.
"We shall not see so many of the military now. We shall be very intimate
with solitude. I am afraid stupidity will be a frequent guest," and
again, "A dull round of the same thing. I shall hang up my pen till
something happens worth relating."
There being such a lack of diversion at the farm, Sally gladly went to
spend a week with her friend Polly Fishbourn at Whitemarsh, where she
had an opportunity to climb the barren hills and from their tops saw an
extended view of the surrounding country. She says, "The traces of the
Army which encamped on these hills are very visible,--ragged huts,
imitations of chimneys, and many other ruinous objects which plainly
showed that they had been there."
Again back at the farm she had long weeks without any other real
adventures,--a real one where Sally was concerned, being always one with
an officer in the foreground, but when June came again there arrived at
the farm the Virginian captain, Dandridge, who seems to have effectually
displaced Major Stoddard in the fickle little lady's graces, and she
described him in glowing terms to Debby, giving very diverting accounts
of the spicy conversations they had together, for Captain Dandridge was
famous at repartee, and Sally never at a loss for words to answer back.
In fact there is no more charming bit of writing in the journal than the
account of her intimacy with the Captain whom she speaks of as the
"handsomest man in existence."
In one of Sally's conversations with Dandridge, an interesting light is
thrown on the attitude of the Wisters in the struggle for independence.
As Quakers, they professed to be in a neutral position, taking a firm
stand against war, and preferring not to be drawn into discussions on
political questions, which is shown by Sally's account of an evening
when some officers having taken tea in the Wister parlour, she says,
"the conversation turned on politicks, a subject to avoid. I gave Betsey
a hint," she adds; "I rose, she followed, and we went out of the room."
But although theoretically opposed to war, the Wisters, like a majority
of the Quakers, were at heart friends of liberty. There is no doubt that
Sally's sympathy was with the American cause, she was quick to deny
Dandridge's accusation that she was a Tory.
All too soon, Captain Dandridge, like the other officers, rode away from
the farm after a gallant leave-taking, but Sally's thoughts were soon
otherwise engrossed. She wrote, "We have had strange reports about the
British being about to leave Philadelphia. I can't believe it."
And on the following day, "We have heard an astonishing piece of
news--that the English have entirely left the city. It is almost
impossible! Stay--I shall hear further," and then on the next, "A light
horseman has just confirmed the above intelligence! This is _charmante_!
They decamped yesterday. He (the horseman) was in Philadelphia. It is
true! They have gone! Past a doubt. I can't help forbear exclaiming to
the girls, 'Now are you sure the news is true? Now are you _sure_ they
have gone?'
"'Yes, yes, yes!' they all cry, 'and may they never, never return!'
"Dr. Gould came here to-night. Our army are about six miles off, on their
march to the Jerseys."
On the next day she adds, "The army began their march at six this
morning. Our brave, our heroic General Washington was escorted by fifty
of the Life Guards with drawn swords. Each day he acquires an addition
to his goodness."
A fine tribute, indeed, to the moving spirit of American Independence,
and with it let us close Sally Wister's journal, sure that with the
retreat of the British from Philadelphia, she will soon be able to
return to the friends from whom she has had such a long separation, and
so will have no further need to record happenings at the farm as she has
been doing so faithfully, but can presently relate them not to Debby
alone, but to the whole "Social Circle," and we may be sure from what
we know of Mistress Sally that her stories will lose no spice in the
telling.
If there are those who are reluctant to part with pretty Sally, let them
turn to the little journal and read it in its spicy entirety for
themselves, and it were well also after reading this chronicle of a girl
of the Revolution, to turn to the pages of history and paint in more
accurate detail the background of our vivid picture of Sally, for only a
short distance from the farm, across the hills of Gwynedd, the greatest
actors in the Revolutionary drama were playing their parts--Washington,
Lafayette, Wayne, Steuben, Greene, and many others--playing the hero's
part at the battle of Germantown, at the battle of Burgoyne, in the
skirmishes before Washington's encampment at Whitemarsh, suffering
silently in a winter at Valley Forge.
Turn to the pages of history for the sombre background and glance once
again at the piquant face and merry eyes of Sally Wister, half hidden
under her demure Quaker bonnet, with her snowy kerchief crossed so
smoothly over her tempestuous young heart, as she looked when soldiers
and officers fell under the charm of her bewitching personality!
COFACHIQUI:
An Indian Princess of Historic Legend