THROUGH COLONIAL DOORWAYS
SEVENTEENTH EDITION
[Illustration]
[Illustration:
THROUGH
COLONIAL
DOORWAYS
BY
ANNE HOLLINGSWORTH
WHARTON
[Illustration]
PHILADELPHIA
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
MDCCCC]
COPYRIGHT, 1893,
BY
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.
PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA
TO THE MEMORY OF
MARGARET N. CARTER,
WHOSE LIVING AND LOVING PRESENCE WAS AN INSPIRATION
DURING THE PREPARATION OF THESE
CHAPTERS, AND WHOSE SKETCHES ARE
AMONG THOSE THAT ADORN ITS PAGES,
THIS LITTLE VOLUME
IS
Dedicated.
[Illustration: PREFACE]
The revival of interest in Colonial and Revolutionary times has become
a marked feature of the life of to-day. Its manifestations are to be
found in the literature which has grown up around these periods, and
in the painstaking individual research being made among documents and
records of the past with genealogical and historical intent.
Not only has a desire been shown to learn more of the great events of
the last century, but with it has come an altogether natural curiosity
to gain some insight into the social and domestic life of Colonial
days. To read of councils, congresses, and battles is not enough: men
and women wish to know something more intimate and personal of the
life of the past, of how their ancestors lived and loved as well of how
they wrought, suffered, and died.
With some thought of gratifying this desire, by sounding the heavy
brass knocker, and inviting the reader to enter with us through the
broad doorways of some Colonial homes into the hospitable life within,
have these pages been written.
For original material placed at my disposal, in the form of letters and
manuscripts, I am indebted to numerous friends, among these to Mrs.
Oliver Hopkinson, the Misses Sharples, Miss Anna E. Peale, Miss F.
A. Logan, Mrs. Edward Wetherill, Mr. C. R. Hildeburn, and Mr. Edward
Shippen.
To the Editors of the _Atlantic Monthly_, the _Lippincott’s Magazine_,
and the _Philadelphia Ledger_ and _Times_, I wish to express my
appreciation of their courtesy in allowing me to use in some of these
chapters material to which they first gave place in their columns.
A. H. W.
PHILADELPHIA, March, 1893.
CONTENTS.
THROUGH COLONIAL DOORWAYS 7
THE MESCHIANZA 23
NEW YORK BALLS AND RECEPTIONS 65
THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 97
THE WISTAR PARTIES 147
A BUNDLE OF OLD LOVE LETTERS 177
THE PHILADELPHIA DANCING ASSEMBLIES 197
[Illustration: THROUGH COLONIAL DOORWAYS]
The historian of the past has, as a rule, been pleased to treat with
dignified silence the lighter side of Colonial life, allowing the
procession of noble men and fair women to sweep on, grand, stately,
and imposing, but lacking the softer touches that belong to social and
domestic life. So much has been written and said of the stern virtues
of the fathers and mothers of the Republic, and of their sacrifices,
privations, and heroism, that we of this generation would be in danger
of regarding them as types of excellence to be placed upon pedestals,
rather than as men and women to be loved with human affection, were
it not for some old letter, or diary, or anecdote that floats down to
us from the past, revealing the touch of nature that makes them our
kinsfolk by the bond of sympathy and interest, of taste and habit, as
well as by that of blood.
The dignified Washington becomes to us a more approachable personality
when, in a letter written by Mrs. John M. Bowers, we read that when
she was a child of six he dandled her on his knee and sang to her
about “the old, old man and the old, old woman who lived in the
vinegar-bottle together,” or when we come across a facetious letter
of his own in which the general tells how his cook was “sometimes
minded to cut a figure,” notably, when ladies were entertained at camp,
and would, on such occasions, add to the ordinary roast and greens a
beefsteak pie or a dish of crabs, which left only six feet of space
between the different dishes instead of twelve; or again, when General
Greene writes from Middlebrook, “We had a little dance at my quarters.
His Excellency and Mrs. Greene danced upwards of three hours without
once sitting down. Upon the whole we had a pretty little frisk.”
We are not accustomed to associate minuets and “pretty frisks” with the
stern realities of Revolutionary days, yet as brief mention of them
comes down to us, they serve to light up the background of that rugged
picture, as when Miss Sally Wister tells, in her sprightly journal, of
the tricks played by herself and a bevy of gay girls upon the young
officers quartered in the old Foulke mansion, at Penllyn, soon after
the battle of Brandywine. Miss Wister’s confidences are addressed to
Miss Deborah Norris, afterwards the learned Mrs. George Logan, and
the principal actors in the century-old drama are the lively Miss
Sally, who dubs herself “Thy smart journalizer,” and Major Stoddert
from Maryland, who in the first scenes plays a _rôle_ somewhat similar
to that of Young Marlow, but later develops attractions of mind and
character that Miss Sally finds simply irresistible. She considers him
both “good natur’d and good humor’d,” and evinces a fine discrimination
in defining the application of these terms, which shows that a Quaker
maiden in love may still retain a modicum of the clear-headedness which
is one of the distinguishing characteristics of her sect. The cousinly
allusions to “chicken-hearted Liddy”--Miss Liddy Foulke, later known
as Mrs. John Spencer--and her numerous admirers are very interesting.
When Miss Sally, who is evidently reducing the heart of the gallant
major to “ashes of Sodom,” naively remarks, _à propos_ of Liddy’s
conquests, “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 yet may do?” we feel
that maidens’ hearts in 1777 were made on much the same plan that they
are nowadays, and that even to so rare a _confidante_ as Miss Deborah
Norris the whole was not revealed.
Through such old chroniclers or letter-writers we sometimes meet the
great ladies of the past at ball or dinner, or, better still, in the
informal intercourse of their own homes, and catch glimpses of their
husbands and lovers, the warriors, statesmen, and philosophers of the
time, at some social club, like the Hasty Pudding of Cambridge, the
State in Schuylkill or the Wistar Parties of Philadelphia, or the
Tuesday Club and the Delphian in Baltimore. Meeting them thus, enjoying
witticisms and good cheer in one another’s excellent company, we feel
a closer bond between their life and our own than if they were always
presented to us in public ceremonial or with pen and folio in hand.
When we read of Judge Peters crying out good-humoredly, as he pushed
his way between a fat and a slim man who blocked up a doorway, “Here
I go through thick and thin;” or when we think of the signers of the
Declaration, gathered together in the old State House on that memorable
July day of 1776, illuminating the solemnity of the occasion by jokes,
even as grim ones as those of Hancock and Franklin and Gerry, we are
conscious of a sense of comradeship inspired more by the mirth and
_bonhomie_ than by the heroism of these men, who labored yesterday that
we might laugh to-day. The great John Adams, who with all his greatness
was not a universal favorite among his contemporaries, comes down to
us irradiated with a nimbus of amiability, in a picture that his wife
draws of him, submitting to be driven about the room with a willow
stick by one of his small grandchildren; and when Mrs. Bache begs her
“dear papa” not to reprimand her so severely for desiring a little
finery, in which to appear at the Ambassador’s and when she “goes
abroad with the Washingtons,” because he is the last person to wish to
see her “dressed with singularity, or in a way that will not do credit
to her father and her husband,” we can fancy Dr. Franklin’s grave
features relaxing in a smile over the daughter’s diplomacy, inherited
from no stranger. The wedding of President Madison to the pretty Widow
Todd seems more real to us when we learn from eye-witnesses of the
various festivities that illuminated the occasion, and of how the
girls vied with one another in obtaining mementos of the evening,
cutting in bits the Mechlin lace that adorned the groom’s delicate
shirt-ruffles, and showering the happy pair with rice when they drove
off to Montpelier, old Mr. Madison’s estate in Virginia. Through it
all, we can hear Mrs. Washington’s earnest voice assuring “Dolly” that
she and General Washington approve of the match, and that even if Mr.
Madison is twenty years older than herself, he will still make her a
good husband. That this sensible advice from the stately matron should
have made the girl-widow blush and run away does not surprise us, for,
while acknowledging to an immense respect for Mrs. Washington, in
consequence not only of her position, but of the dignity and serenity
of her character, we are always conscious of a feeling of restraint in
her presence, which she makes no effort to overcome by word or smile.
We cannot imagine ourselves spending a pleasant evening with her,
discussing events of the day, or the last engagement or ball, as we
can with Mrs. John Adams, Mrs. John Jay, or sprightly Mrs. Bache. We
confess to the same emotions with regard to Mrs. Robert Morris, whose
character stands out, like that of her intimate friend Mrs. Washington,
surrounded by a halo of excellence. Is this the fault of these worthy
ladies, or is it that of their biographers, who, in presenting them
to the world with all the lofty virtues of Roman matrons, have added
no lighter touches to their pictures? In vain we search for some
shred of gayety, or mirth, or enthusiasm, on their part, and in sheer
desperation back out of their presence with a stately courtesy, and
take refuge with Rebecca Franks, or Sally Wister, or Eliza Southgate,
with whom we are always sure of passing a merry half-hour. Nor is it
frivolity and merry-making that we look for in the records of the
past: it is life, with its high hopes and homely cares, its simple
pleasures and small gayeties, that served to relieve the tension of
earnest endeavor needed to accomplish a great and difficult task. Mrs.
Adams’s letters about her children, her household economies, and her
experiments in farming are almost as interesting as those written from
abroad, because she approaches all subjects, even the most commonplace,
with a buoyant spirit and playful fancy. To her husband, during one
of his long absences from home, she writes, “I am a mortal enemy to
anything but a cheerful countenance and a merry heart, which, Solomon
tells us, does good like medicine.” And again, “I could give you a long
list of domestic affairs, but they would only serve to embarrass you
and in noways relieve me. All domestic pleasures are absorbed in the
great and important duty you owe your country, ‘for our country is, as
it were, a secondary god, and the first and greatest parent. It is to
be preferred to parents, wives, children, friends, and all things,--the
gods only excepted.’” It is not strange that to such a wife John Adams
should have written, “By the accounts in your last letter, it seems
the women in Boston begin to think themselves able to serve their
country. What a pity it is that our generals in the northern districts
had not Aspasias to their wives! I believe the two Howes have not very
great women for wives. If they had, we should suffer more from their
exertions than we do. This is our good fortune. A woman of sense would
not let her husband spend five weeks at sea in such a season of the
year. A smart wife would have put Howe in possession of Philadelphia
a long time ago.” It is evident that Mr. Adams did not need to be won
over to any modern theories with regard to the higher education of
women, and, as a relief to the sterner side of the picture, we find the
wife who penned such wise and inspiriting words to her husband entering
on other occasions with the delight of a _mondaine_ into a court or
republican function, describing the gowns of the women, their faces
and their manners, with the minuteness and accuracy of a Parisian. Was
there ever anything written more spirited than Mrs. Adams’s description
of Madame Helvetius at Passy, throwing her arms about the neck of
_ce cher Franklin_? or her picture of Queen Charlotte and the royal
princesses, for whom her admiration was of the scantest? With far
different touches was it her pleasure to describe some of the American
beauties abroad, for Mrs. Adams was always a true daughter of New
England, and we can read between the lines when she writes of Madame
Helvetius’s singular manners, “I should have been greatly astonished at
this conduct if the good Doctor [Franklin] had not told me that in this
lady I should see a genuine Frenchwoman, wholly free from affectation
or stiffness of behavior.”[1]
Pleasant it is, and not wholly unprofitable to the student of life and
manners, to look into the family room of some Colonial mansion, to hear
girlish laughter and raillery about balls and beaux in one corner,
while in another the father of the family writes of his aspirations
for the nation in which his hopes for his children are bound up, and
the mother, looking over his shoulder, sympathizes with his patriotic
and fatherly ambitions, while she turns over in her brain, for the
hundredth time, the important question of how she and Nancy are to make
a respectable appearance at the next Assembly ball, when silks, laces,
and feathers are so very dear,--worth their weight in gold, as Mrs.
Bache tells us. It is such touches of life as these that we find in the
diaries of Sarah Eve, who was living in Philadelphia in 1772, of Eliza
Southgate of Scarborough, and of Elizabeth Drinker; in Mrs. Grant’s
pictures of New York and Albany life, in which Madame Philip Schuyler
is the central figure; or in such letters as those of Thomas Jefferson
to his family, of Mrs. Bache, Miss Franks, Lady Cathcart, and Mrs. John
Morgan. The latter gives us charming glimpses of Cambridge society in
1776, and tells of dinners, tea-drinking, and reviews in company with
the Mifflins, Roberdeaus, and others, of handsome officers and pretty
girls. Of one of the latter she speaks, in a letter to her mother, in a
manner which reveals her own loveliness of character quite as clearly
as it does the external charms of the beauty whom all the world and
her own husband admire. “The one that drew every one’s attention,”
she writes, “was the famous Jersey beauty, Miss Keyes, who is now on
a visit to Mr. Roberdeau. She may justly be said to be fairest where
thousands are fair. I have had an opportunity of seeing her, and think
her a most beautiful creature, and what makes her still more engaging
is her not betraying the least consciousness of her own perfections.
I am, it seems, a most violent favorite with her; she is to dine here
to-morrow. You will wonder, perhaps, how this great intimacy took
place, but you must know she has been indisposed since her coming to
town, and Dr. Morgan had the honor of attending her,--you know what an
admirer of beauty he is; the rest followed, of course.”
In a different vein, but no less piquant, are Lady Cathcart’s remarks
on London personages and functions, in the midst of which her thoughts
fly back to her relatives and friends in America. One moment she is
describing the “Queen’s Birthnight Ball,” and the next is sending Mrs.
Jauncey a picture of her son with “Six Curles of a Side,” or commenting
upon Betty Shipton’s marriage to Major Giles, adding, “I am sure I
never believed her, last winter, when she used to talk so much about
him.”
There being many old letters and diaries still unread and unpublished,
it seems a task not unworthy of the later historian to gather
together such records, in order to present to this generation more
characteristic pictures of their grandfathers and grandmothers, drawn
with a freer hand and touched with the familiar light of every-day
intercourse. One young girl of the present time was strongly attracted
towards her own great-grandmother by reading a letter written by her to
her mother in Newport, asking her to send her from thence “a sprigged
muslin petticoat, and the making of an apron such as all the girls
are wearing.” A rather more modest request, this, than that of Miss
Eliza Southgate, who begged her mother for five dollars with which
to purchase a wig for the next Assembly, because Eleanor Coffin had
one, and it was quite impossible “to dress her hair stylish without
it.” Placed thus in touch with her great-grandmother’s longings and
aspirations, which flowed in the same frivolous channel as her own,
this young descendant suddenly realized that they two were of one
flesh and blood, and gathering and piecing together all that could
be learned from older members of the family of this lady of the last
century, she has become the heroine of romance so thrilling and so
sweet, that the girl of to-day may be said to entertain for her unknown
ancestress a more than ordinary affection.
The records that have come down to us are, after all, only a few out
of the great mass written. Many, perhaps equally interesting, have
in some garret fallen a prey to mould, decay, and the book-lizard;
or have found their way to the fireplace, impelled thither by some
family iconoclast possessed with a rage for clearing up; or, still
more ignoble fate, have been torn up for curl-papers! A narrator of
veracity tells how a bevy of gay young girls, gathered together in the
roomy old Hopkinson house in Bordentown, appropriated some letters
found in the garret to this purpose, and lighting on some interesting
passages, amused themselves by reading them aloud at what Macaulay
names the “curling hour.” Reports of these nocturnal revels being
carried down-stairs, a member of the family interested herself in the
preservation of the letters, which proved an historical treasure-trove.
Such treasure-troves will be less likely to be discovered as the years
go on, and those who would find love-letters like Esther Wynn’s, under
the cellar stairs, had better set about looking for them before mould
and dampness have utterly obliterated the characters traced in the
long-ago.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Letters of Mrs. John Adams, p. 253.
[Illustration: _The Meschianza_]
“_Mars, conquest plumed, the Cyprian queen disarms:
And victors, vanquished, yield to Beauty’s charms.
Here then the laurel, here the palm we yield,
And all the trophies of the tilted field;
Here Whites and Blacks, with blended homage, pay
To each device the honors of the day.
Hard were the task and impious to decide,
Where all are fairest, which the fairer side.
Enough for us if by such sports we strove
To grace this feast of military love
And, joining in the wish of every heart,
Honor’d the friend and leader ere we part._”
_From the Gentleman’s Magazine of 1778._
If we could by any means turn back, for a moment, to certain May
days more than a hundred years ago, and enter one of the stately old
Philadelphia mansions in the eastern portion of our city, then the
court end of the town, what a gay scene would meet our eyes! Fair
ladies gathered in the spacious rooms, in their quaint but becoming
old-time dress, bending over brocades, laces, and ribbons, busied
in consulting upon and improvising ravishing costumes, in which to
grace the splendid _fête_ to be given to General Sir William Howe,
by the officers of the British army, previous to his departure for
England. This army then held possession of Penn’s “faire greene
country towne,” and had been busy during the past winter, in lieu of
more warlike employment, in introducing among its inhabitants many of
the amusements, follies, and vices of Old World courts. The Quaker
City had, at the pleasure of her conqueror, doffed her sober drab and
appeared in festal array; for, like the Babylonian victors of old, they
that wasted her required of her mirth. The best that the city afforded
was at the disposal of the enemy, who seem to have spent their days in
feasting and merry-making, while Washington and his army endured all
the hardships of the severe winter of 1777-78 upon the bleak hillsides
of Valley Forge. Dancing assemblies, theatrical entertainments, and
various gayeties marked the advent of the British in Philadelphia,
all of which formed a fitting prelude to the full-blown glories of
the Meschianza, which burst upon the admiring inhabitants on that
last-century May day.
It must be remembered, in looking back upon these times, that most
of our aristocratic citizens were descended from old English stock,
and, with an inherent loyalty to the monarchy under which they had
prospered, were still content to avow themselves subjects of King
George, or, as Graydon puts it, “stuck to their ease and Madeira,”
declaring themselves neutral, which rendered the lessons taught by
these gay, pleasure-loving British officers easy ones, learned with
few grimaces. Thus, although there were many sober Friends who cast
indignant side-glances at the elaborate preparations in progress for
this brilliant _fête_, and many hearts which beat in sympathy with the
patriot cause and could ill brook the thought of such frivolity in the
midst of the stern realities of war, there was still a large class
which entered with spirit into a festivity which was openly denounced
by British journals of the day as ill-timed and absurd, given, as it
was, in honor of a commander whose errors had well-nigh cost him his
cause, and who was severely censured for these months of inactivity
and trifling which his officers now proceeded to commemorate. Howe
was, notwithstanding his faults and failures, sincerely beloved by
his officers, who resolved to give him this entertainment that, as
they phrased it, their “sentiments might be more universally and
unequivocally known.”
Major André, who took a leading part in the preparations for the
Meschianza, composed some verses in Sir William’s praise, to be
repeated during the pageant; but, with a modesty that has not always
been attributed to him, he set them aside. The last stanza of this
strain proves to us how readily this child of monarchy, poet though he
was, had learned to cry, “The King is dead. Long live the King!” Howe
being at this very time superseded by Clinton, André writes:
“On Hudson’s banks the sure presage we read,--
Of other triumphs to our arms decreed:
Nor fear but equal honors shall repay
Each hardy deed where Clinton leads the way.”
André indulged in some bold flights of fancy in these verses, such as
the following:
“Veterans appeared who never knew to yield
When Howe and glory led them to the field.”
Which are in sharp contrast with the effusions of a Jerseyman of the
time, who, with more truth and less sentiment, wrote:
“Threat’ning to drive us from the hill,
Sir William marched to attack our men,
But finding that we all stood still,
Sir William he--marched back again.”
The day appointed for the Meschianza was the 18th of May. Cards of
invitation were sent out and tickets of admission given. The latter are
thus described by a Whig lady: “On the top is the crest of the Howe
arms, with _vive vale_ (live and farewell). To the sun setting in the
sea the other motto refers, and bears this translation: ‘He shines
as he sets, but shall rise again more luminous.’ General Howe being
recalled is the setting sun; while ploughing the ocean he is obscured,
but shall, on his return, and giving an account of his heroic deeds,
rise again with redoubled lustre. The wreath of laurel encompassing the
whole, encircling the arms, completes, I think, the burlesque.”
The names by which this _fête_ is known, Meschianza and Mischianza, are
derived from two Italian words,--_mescere_, to mix, and _mischiare_,
to mingle. Thus the entertainment, so varied in its nature, has been
named a mixture and a medley with equal propriety. We have adopted the
spelling of the original invitations, one of which lies before us, and
reads thus:
The Favor of your meeting the Subscribers to the Meschianza at
Knight’s Wharf, near Pool’s Bridge, to-morrow, at half-past three, is
Desired.
[Signed] HENRY CALDER.
Sunday, 17th May.
MISS CLIFTON.
Knight’s wharf was at the edge of Green Street, in the Northern
Liberties; Poole’s bridge crossed Pegg’s Run at Front Street, and was
named after one Poole, a Friend, whose mansion lay quite near.
It is curious to notice that this invitation to Miss Eleanor Clifton,
whose portrait proclaims her one of the beauties of the period, is
dated but one day in advance of the _fête_, which would lead us
to fear that this lady was tempted to commit the sin of sewing at
her ball-dress on a Sunday, like that unfortunate damsel of Queen
Elizabeth’s time whom Mrs. Jarley holds up as a waxen warning to
all Sabbath-breakers, had we not good reason to infer that a verbal
invitation had been given long before.
The preparations for this magnificent entertainment, the erection of
the numerous and vast pavilions around the old Wharton mansion, and
their decoration by André, Delancey, and all the other gallant officers
who took part in the affair, were doubtless the talk of the town for
weeks. Yards and yards of painting must have been executed by the
indefatigable André, as the ceilings, sides, and decorations of the
long pavilions, designed for the supper- and ball-rooms, were to a
great extent the work of his hands. Here he used unsparingly the pencil
that had made its virgin essay on the features of lovely, unrequiting
Honora Sneyd, lingering, with true artistic fervor, over festoons of
roses and bouquets of drooping flowers.
The owner of this property was dubbed by his contemporaries “Duke
Wharton,” in consequence of the extreme haughtiness of his bearing and,
it is said, from the following circumstance: “One winter’s day, when
the sidewalks were rendered dangerously slippery from the accumulated
ice upon them, Mr. Wharton, while attempting to make his usual
dignified progress over the uncertain footing, was suddenly tripped up,
and would have measured his length upon the pavement, had not a jovial
Hibernian, passing at the moment, stretched forth a friendly hand to
his aid, crying out, ‘God save my Lord the Duke!’” Another amusing
passage of compliments, this time with Sir William Draper, is related
by Graydon: “Sir William, observing that Mr. Wharton entered the
room hat in hand, and remained uncovered, begged, as it was contrary
to the custom of his Society to do so, that the Quaker gentleman
would dispense with this unnecessary mark of respect. But the ‘Duke,’
feeling his pride piqued at the supposition that he would uncover
to Sir William or any other man, replied, with entire _sang-froid_,
that he had uncovered for his own comfort, the day being warm, and
that whenever he found it convenient he would resume his hat.” These
and other stories, all indicating a pride that seems to have been
considered commendable in those days, repeated with embellishments,
doubtless added to the merriment of many convivial after-dinner
gatherings, and passing from mouth to mouth, served to establish the
reputation and title of this old Quaker gentleman, whose death occurred
more than a year previous to the British occupation of Philadelphia.[2]
The fact that Walnut Grove was a country-seat, and in all probability
used by the Wharton family only during the summer months, may account
for the British officers having entire possession of the premises in
the spring of ’78, while its size and situation made it an appropriate
place in which to hold their revels. Surrounded by broad lawns and
lofty trees, situated at some distance west of the Delaware River, at
what is now Fifth Street near Washington Avenue, Walnut Grove was then
considered quite a rural residence. It has long since disappeared, the
encroaching streets of a busy city having rendered almost traditional
the theatre of this gay and brilliant scene, although there were those
still living, on the anniversary of the festival in 1878, who recalled
the old brick house as it stood in Colonial times, and one who slid
down the balusters of the stairway in boyish frolic, with never a
thought of all the gay and gallant throng which once passed over the
stairs and down the broad hall to the sound of music, merry jests,
courtly compliments, and rippling laughter.
It is said that there were not many ladies with the British officers
in Philadelphia, most of them having left their wives in New York;
so, there being few authorities to consult about the prevailing
fashions at the court of the beautiful Austrian or the less beautiful
Queen Charlotte, our young ladies were forced to rely upon their own
ingenuity in the arrangement of their toilets. Those chosen to be
knights’ ladies were assisted by the taste and skill of André, whose
water-color design for the costume of the ladies of the Blended Rose
is still preserved, representing a curious combination of Oriental
and Parisian styles, its flowing tunic over full Turkish trousers
being topped by the high _coiffure_ of the day. Miss Peggy Shippen’s
portrait[3] represents her in this head-dress, and in a letter written
to her in August, 1779, André playfully alludes to his millinery
experience gained during preparations for the _fête_:
“You know the Mesquianza made me a complete milliner. Should you
not have received supplies for your fullest equipment from that
department, I shall be glad to enter into the whole details of
cap-wire, needles, gauze, &c., and, to the best of my abilities,
render you in these trifles services from which I hope you would infer
a zeal to be further employed.”
A rash offer, it seems to us, for what knight, be he never so bold,
would be willing to enter into all the intricacies and mysteries of a
modern feminine toilet? And those of the days of powder, patch, and
high befeathered _coiffure_ were certainly not less bewildering to the
minds of the uninitiated.
Although from various sources we learn that André took an active part
in the preparations for the Meschianza, out of doors as well as among
laces and silks in fair ladies’ boudoirs, Mr. Sargent tells us that
Burgoyne[4] was the conductor of the elegant affair, which was on
the plan of a _fête champêtre_ given by Lord Derby, June, 1774, on
the occasion of Lord Stanley’s marriage with the Duke of Hamilton’s
daughter. Only about fifty young Philadelphia ladies were present at
the Meschianza; but if we are to credit history and the gossip of the
day, the destruction wrought by their charms upon the hearts of the
British officers must have been equal to that to have been expected
from twice their number, for all authorities unite in telling us that
the ladies of this city were justly celebrated for their beauty, of a
certain grand and noble type. Watson says that most of the American
gentlemen who took part in the Meschianza were “aged non-combatants,”
the young men of the city being Whigs, and generally, be it said to
their credit, with Washington’s army at Valley Forge.
There seems to be no doubt that a number of Whig ladies graced this
entertainment, and one of them, herself, describes the affair in
glowing colors. What shall we say for the erring fair ones? That they
were young, beautiful, anxious to see and perhaps to be seen. Shall
we, standing amid the lights and shadows of another century, be severe
in our judgment upon these fair, curious Eves of a hundred years ago?
They had read of grand doings among court ladies and gentlemen in
the exaggerated and stilted romances of the day, until their foolish
hearts were in an eager flutter of anticipation and delight. The whole
town was talking about the projected _fête_; the young officers were
constantly passing to and fro busied with the arrangements; so grand
a sight might never again dawn upon the Philadelphia world. Thus
reasoning, and dropping the while a tear for the braves at Valley
Forge, these inconsistent Whig ladies yielded.
From the windows of some dwellings belonging to Friends--opposed in
principle to such scenes of gayety and dissipation--eyes as eager
as any looked forth upon the busy scene of preparation, like doves
from behind imprisoning bars. Sweet young Quakeresses, gentle-eyed
as the dove and gentle-voiced, that gay land of enchantment down the
river--a seeming Elysium--is not for you! How they must have longed to
go--sitting by the fireside, like so many Cinderellas, watching their
happy sisters start off bravely attired to the ball! To them, alas!
came no fairy godmother, so they reluctantly folded their soft wings
and stayed at home.
In a little, old, commonplace-book found in a house in Southwark, and
now in the possession of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, among
extracts from various authors--some in English, some in Latin, proving
the unknown writer to have been a person of taste and culture--is
a description of the Meschianza penned by an eyewitness. With the
exception of the well-known account of the _fête_ given by Major André
in a letter to a friend in England, this is the most detailed recital
that we have encountered. Opening the yellowed pages, we read:
“Agreeable to an invitation of the managers of the Meschianza, Dr. M.,
Mr. F., and myself went up about four o’clock in the afternoon, in
Mr. F.’s Coach, to Knight’s wharf, where we found most of the company
in the Boats. Some of these were on the water in the galley with Lord
Howe, among them Mrs. Chew, Mrs. Hamilton, Mrs. Worrell, Mrs. Coxe,
Miss Chew, Miss Auchmuty, Miss Redman, Miss Franks, &c., General Howe,
Sir Henry Clinton, Lord Rawdon, &c.; and General Knyphausen and his
attendants were in another Galley. We continued waiting on the water
for the rest of the company near half an Hour, when, a Signal being
given from the ‘Vigilant,’ we began to move in three divisions, a
Galley and ten flatboats in each division. In the first was General
Knyphausen, &c., in the third British and German officers, and in the
middle, Lord General Howe, &c.--with three Barges, in each of which
were bands of music playing.”
A lady in Philadelphia at this time who attended the Meschianza,
although she declares herself a noted Whig, thus describes this
portion of the entertainment in a letter addressed to Mrs. Colonel
Theodorick Bland, in Virginia:
“On the back of the ticket, you observe, we are to attend at Knight’s
wharf (you remember Pool’s bridge near Kensington). Thither we
accordingly repaired in carriages at the appointed hour of three,
where we found a vast number of boats, barges, and galleys to receive
us, all adorned with small colors or jacks of different colors. On a
signal from the ‘Vigilant’ we all embarked, forming lines, with all
the music belonging to the army in the centre. The ladies interspersed
in the different boats (the seats of which were covered with green
cloth) with the red coats, colors flying, music playing, etc., you may
easily suppose formed a very gay and grand appearance; nor were the
shore and houses, lined with spectators, any bad object to those in
the regatta (the water party so called). We were obliged to row gently
on account of the galley sailing slow.
“The armed ship--the ‘Fanny’--was drawn into the stream and decorated
in the most beautiful manner with the colors of every Court or State
streaming; amidst the number, the thirteen stripes waved with as much
elegance, and as gracefully sported with the gentle zephyrs, as any
of the number. After passing the above ship we reached the ‘Roebuck,’
whose men were all fixed on her yards and gave us three cheers as we
passed, and as soon as we had got to a distance not to be incommoded
by the smoke she fired a salute and was answered by several other
vessels in the harbor. At length we reached the place of destination
(after lying awhile on our oars) opposite the ‘Roebuck,’ the music
playing ‘God Save the King.’”
The regatta which headed the programme of the Meschianza was suggested
by a similar pageant on the Thames, June 23, 1775, and, being a
novelty even in old England, it is not strange that it should have set
provincial Philadelphia astir, nor that six barges were needed to keep
at a distance the numerous boats, filled with eager spectators, that
crowded the Delaware on the day of the entertainment, when:
“There in the broad, clear afternoon,
With myriad oars, and all in tune,
A swarm of barges moved away
In all their grand regatta pride.”
We doubt whether those who disapproved of the whole affair--the
Quakers, Whigs, and many sensible Tories--could forbear casting furtive
glances toward that fairy procession, which, Read says,--
“Like tropic isles of flowery light,
Unmoored by some enchanter’s might,
O’erflowed with music, floated down
Before the wharf-assembled town.”
Thus this gay and brilliant fleet proceeded down the river with flying
colors, while the band played stirring English airs, amid the soft
breezes and under the perfect skies of an old-time May day, until they
arrived opposite the scene of the festivity, where everything was in
readiness for joust and revelry. Salutes were fired by the “Roebuck”
as soon as General Howe stepped on shore, which were echoed by the
“Vigilant” and several smaller vessels up and down the river.
“The fleet at the wharves,” says our journalist, “consisting of
about three hundred sail, adorned with colors, and together with the
procession, exhibited a very grand and pleasing appearance.” Very
grand it must have been to see those knights, ladies, and officers, in
their rich costumes, leaving behind them the gay scene on the river,
and walking between two files of grenadiers up the avenue toward the
house! The bravest display of the kind that the New World could afford,
for Philadelphia then excelled all the other Colonial cities in size,
culture, and importance; and here, beside the flower of the English
army, were met some of the most beautiful women of the day.
Passing up this avenue, the company entered a lawn, four hundred
yards on every side, where all was prepared for the exhibition of a
tournament according to the laws of ancient chivalry. Here were two
pavilions, with rows of benches rising one above the other; on the
front row of each were placed seven of the principal young ladies
of the county, arrayed in white Poland dresses of Mantua with long
sleeves, a gauze turban spangled, and sashes round the waist. Seven
of them wore pink sashes with silver spangles, and the others white
with gold spangles. All bore in their turbans favors destined for
their respective knights. Those who wore pink and white were called
the Ladies of the Blended Rose, and were Miss Auchmuty, Miss Peggy
Chew, Miss Janet Craig, Miss Nancy Redman, Miss Nancy White, Miss
Williamina Bond, and Miss Shippen. Lord Cathcart, who led the Knights
of the Blended Rose in Miss Auchmuty’s honor, appeared upon a superb
charger. Two young black slaves, with sashes of blue and white silk,
wearing large silver clasps round their necks and arms, their breasts
and shoulders bare, held his stirrups. On his right hand walked Captain
Hazard, and on his left Captain Brownlow, his two esquires, the one
bearing his lance, the other his shield. His device was Cupid riding on
a Lion; the motto, “Surmounted by Love.”
The Ladies of the Burning Mountain, whose dress was white and gold,
and whose chief was Captain Watson, superbly mounted, and arrayed in a
magnificent suit of black and orange silk, were Miss Rebecca Franks, in
whose honor Captain Watson appeared, with the motto “Love and Glory,”
Miss Sarah Shippen, Miss P. Shippen, Miss Becky Bond, Miss Becky
Redman, Miss Sally Chew, and Miss Williamina Smith.
In all descriptions of the Meschianza related by eye-witnesses, the
Shippen sisters are spoken of as having taken a prominent part in the
entertainment. Only within a few years has a letter from a member of
the family controverted this statement, in the following terms:
“The young ladies [the daughters of Chief Justice Edward Shippen]
had been invited and had arranged to go [to the Meschianza]; their
names were upon the programmes, and their dresses actually prepared;
but at the last moment their father was visited by some of his
friends, prominent members of the Society of Friends, who persuaded
him that it would be by no means seemly that his daughters should
appear in public in the Turkish dresses designed for the occasion.
Consequently, although they are said to have been in a _dancing_ fury,
they were obliged to stay away. This same story has, I know, come down
independently through several branches of the family, and was told to
me repeatedly, the last time not more than two years ago, by an old
lady of the family, who was a niece of Mrs. Arnold and her sisters,
and who has since died.”[5]
Major André includes the Shippens in his description of the
entertainment printed in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ in August, 1778.
The discrepancy between his statement and the family letters can
be accounted for only upon the supposition that, like the modern
reporter, André sent off his copy before the ball had taken place; or
perhaps the “dancing fury” of his daughters had such an effect upon the
Chief Justice that, at the last moment, the girls were allowed to go.
Beautiful, brilliant, and fascinating, full of spirit and gayety, the
toast of the British officers, Miss Peggy Shippen seems so much a part
of the Meschianza that we incline to the latter theory, being almost
as unwilling to spare her and her sisters from the ranks of beauty as
were the gallant young officers who were prepared to do battle in their
honor.
As soon as the fair ladies were seated upon the benches prepared for
them, the crowd on the left gave way, and the Knights of the Blended
Rose appeared mounted on white steeds elegantly caparisoned and covered
with white satin ornamented with pink roses. “These knights,” says
our journalist, “were dressed in white and pink satin, with hats of
pink silk, the brims of which were covered with white feathers. Each
knight had his squire on foot, dressed also in white and pink, with
the addition of a cloak of white silk. Every squire carried a spear and
shield, each of which had a different device and motto.”
The knights, having all ridden around the lists and saluted the ladies,
sent their herald, with two trumpeters, to the Dulcineas with this
message: “The Knights of the Blended Rose, by me their herald, proclaim
and assert that the ladies of the Blended Rose excel in wit, beauty,
and every other accomplishment all other ladies in the world, and if
any knight or knights shall be so hardy as to deny this, they are
determined to support their assertion by deeds of arms, agreeable to
the laws of ancient chivalry.”
The trumpets then sounded, and the herald returned to the knights, who
rode by, saluted the Dulcineas, and took their places on the left hand,
about one hundred yards distant.
The crowd opening on the other side, a herald in orange and black, with
a picture of a burning mountain on his back, rode forward to assure
the fair ones of the Burning Mountain that their claims to wit, beauty,
and all other charms, _par excellence_, should be vindicated by the
knights whose colors they wore, “against the false and vainglorious
assertions of the Knights of the Blended Rose.”
The field marshal, Major Gwynne, now gave the signal, upon which a
glove was thrown down by the chief of the White Knights, which was
picked up by the esquire of the chief of the Black Knights; the trumpet
sounded, and the fight was on, under the fire of many bright eyes from
the pavilions where the Queens of Beauty were seated.
Lances were shivered, pistols fired, and finally, in the midst of
an engagement with broadswords, Major Gwynne rode in between the
combatants, declaring that the ladies were abundantly satisfied with
the proofs of valor and devotion displayed by their respective knights.
These fell back, and, joining their companies, passed on, the White
Knights to the left, the Black to the right, saluting their ladies
when they reached the pavilions, after which they passed through the
triumphal arch, in honor of Lord Howe, and ranged themselves on either
side. This arch was elegantly painted with naval ornaments. At the top
was a figure representing Neptune, with his trident and a ship. In the
interior were the attributes of that god. On each side of the arch was
placed a sailor, with his sword drawn. Lord Howe being an admiral in
the service, these emblems were most appropriate.
The knights’ ladies passed under the arch after the knights, who
dismounted and joined them, all proceeding together along a broad
avenue, brilliantly decorated, to another arch of the same size and
elegance as the first, this in honor of Sir William Howe. “Upon passing
this second arch,” our journalist tells us, “we entered a beautiful
Flower-Garden and up a Gravel Court, ascended a flight of Steps which
conducted us into the House, at the door of which we were received by
the Managers of the Meschianza,--namely, Sir John Wrottesley, Sir
Henry Calder, Colonel O’Hara, and Colonel Montrésor.” André mentions
the same, except that he substitutes Major Gardiner for Sir Henry
Calder.
Two folding-doors were opened, and the company was ushered into a large
hall, brilliantly lighted, where tea, coffee, and cakes were served,
and where the knights upon bended knee received the favors due them
from their respective ladies. This scene must have been one of the most
graceful and charming of the whole pageant, and had it not been for
the remembrance of that dear Honora whose miniature he always wore,
André certainly could not have remained insensible to the manifold
attractions of Miss Peggy Chew, who now rewarded him for having
“perilled life and limb” in her service, and whose praises are thus
sung by Mr. Joseph Shippen:
“With either Chew such beauties dwell,
Such charms by each are shared,
No critic’s judging eye can tell
Which merits most regard.
“’Tis far beyond the painter’s skill
To set their charms to view;
As far beyond the poet’s quill
To give the praise that’s due.”
Amid blushes, soft whisperings, and compliments such as the gentlemen
of that time were skilled in paying, the fair ones bestowed their
gracious favors; after which the company entered another hall,
elaborately decorated and hung with eighty-five mirrors, decked with
rose-pink silk ribbons and artificial flowers. In this ball-room,
whose walls were pale blue and rose-pink, with panels on which were
dropping festoons of flowers, “when the company was come up,” says our
authority, quaintly, “the Dulcineas danced first with the knights, and
then with the squires, and after them the rest of the company danced.”
At half-past ten o’clock the windows were thrown open to enable the
guests to enjoy the magnificent fireworks on the lawn, when the
triumphal arch near the house appeared brilliantly illuminated,
Fame blowing from her trumpet these words: “_Tes Lauriers sont
immortels_,”--meaning Sir William’s.
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.