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]
[Illustration]
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.
[Illustration: NEW YORK BALLS & Receptions]
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.
The New York girls had a longer time in which to enjoy the society
of the gallant red-coats than their Philadelphia sisters, and were
consequently in greater danger of losing their hearts to them. There
were some marriages with British officers, as in the family of Andrew
Elliot, Lieutenant-Governor of New York, one of whose daughters married
Admiral Robert Digby, while another, Elizabeth, became the wife of
William, tenth Baron and first Earl of Cathcart, the same who as Lord
Cathcart had figured as chief of the Knights of the Blended Rose in the
Meschianza.[12] Miss Philipse was also one of those who yielded to
the attractions of the enemy, as she married the Hon. Lionel Smythe,
son of Philip, fourth Viscount Strafford, at the time captain of the
Twenty-Third British Foot. Most of the New York belles had, as Graydon
puts it, “sufficient toleration for our cause to marry officers of the
Continental army,” and when the new administration came in, we find
them as ready to dance to Whig music as they had been to Tory. The
Comte de Moustier soon gave these impartial fair ones an opportunity
to display their Terpsichorean powers at a very elegant ball, given
to President Washington, two weeks after his inauguration, at the
Macomb house, on Broadway, which was afterwards occupied by President
Washington. On this occasion the alliance between France and America
was represented in a cotillon, half the dancers being in French costume
and the other half in American; the ladies who represented France
wearing red roses and flowers of France, and the American ladies blue
ribbons and American flowers. Mr. Elias Boudinot, chairman of the
committee of Congress, in a description of this ball sent to his wife
in Philadelphia, speaks of these representatives of the allied powers
entering the room, two by two, and engaging in what he ingeniously
calls “a most curious dance, called _en ballet_, to show the happy
union between the two nations.”[13]