OLD REVOLUTIONARY LETTERS
Whenever the women of the Revolution appear upon the pages of history or romance they are invested with extraordinary virtues. Our traditions are only of maidens who forsook morning lessons on the harpsichord, and afternoon tea, and embroidery, to knit stockings and make plain garments; of Abigail Adams, who "sought wool and flax and worked willingly with her own hands," of Lady Washington, dignified and domestic, presenting gloves of her own knitting, finished and unfinished, as souvenirs of morning visits, of the angelic ministrations of the women of Massachusetts and New Jersey. "Fairer always are the old moons of Villon, than the moons of to-day!" Chesterfield says human nature is the same all the world over. Woman nature assuredly is!
Letter-writing in the eighteenth century was difficult; the transmission of letters after they were written uncertain. One letter received from London was addressed in the fullest faith of finding its destination to "Major George Washington, At the Falls of the Rappahannock or elsewhere in Virginia." Of course, the fate of these letters was doubtful. They were liable to be lost or forgotten. They might be intercepted by the enemy. Hence the stilted style of many of the Revolutionary letters, the liberal use of initials to indicate proper names, the guarded hints, obscure innuendoes and vague allusions which characterize them. Letters were written on coarse paper, the sheet folded over to leave space for the address, tied across with a string, and sealed with wax or a small red wafer. There were no envelopes, no blotting-paper, no pens except those of home manufacture from the goose-quill. Two months was a reasonable length of time to allow for the delivery of letters. To the captain of some passing sloop they were generally confided, or to the pocket of some friend journeying at leisure from neighborhood to neighborhood. When received they were treasured, and packed away in old chests or the secret drawers of old secretaries, thence to arise to accuse or defend, or entertain the curious in future generations.
A New York paper, published about seventy years ago, tells the history of some of these old letters, as follows:[14] "In one of the thirty apartments of the old colonial home of the Bland family, 'Cawsons,' a large party were assembled at dinner with the master of the house, a bachelor, and not a member of the Bland family, when a servant entered and informed him that the house was on fire!
"He received the information with great coolness and composure, ordered that the fire should be extinguished, and requested his guests not to disturb themselves, that 'the servants would attend to it.'
"For a time the wine continued to circulate, and it appears that the fire did also, for with less ceremony than their host it soon drove the party out of doors. In the confusion books and papers were thrust into boxes and barrels, or into anything that presented itself, and carried off into a neighboring barn.
"The person who owned the place at the time of the fire has been dead many years, and the accidental discovery, very recently, of the papers was made in the following manner. A gentleman who had lived on an adjoining farm was called upon one morning by a poor negro who requested him to purchase a basket of eggs. The basket was lined with manuscripts which proved upon closer inspection to be original letters of importance from General Washington, the Marquis La Fayette and others, addressed to Colonel Theodoric Bland, and written during the Revolution."
There was one letter, alas! written to the wife of a Virginia officer whom we should be loth to judge by her friends. It throws a sinister light upon one phase of the social life in the time of Mary Washington, and shows us women who could trifle, dress, dance, and flirt with the enemies of their country in the darkest hour of their country's peril, fiddling when Rome was burning.
Sir William Howe.
Sir William Howe entered Philadelphia in the autumn of 1777, and found "many to welcome him."[15] Philadelphia was a charming old town with substantial colonial mansions surrounded by grounds of great beauty. September roses were blooming in those old-fashioned yards and gardens, and the gracious young beauties were quite willing to gather them for the British officers. The officers, when winter set in, were glad to give them all back in ball and concert, play and assembly. It was a light-hearted, happy time! Why should they not enjoy it? Why, indeed! Nobody would bleed the more freely or starve or freeze to death the sooner!
One of the letters in the egg-basket was written by a lady who elected to live in Philadelphia during the occupation of that city by Sir William Howe. It was addressed to the wife of an officer at the front. We cannot profane our fair, patriotic pages, but the original is accentuated by oaths quite worthy of Queen Bess. The ladies mentioned in the letter were wives and daughters of officers in the field. The writer tells some very, very questionable gossip to her "dear Patsy," and then proceeds: ... "You see I am obeying your commands and writing a folio—My God! If this should fall into your husband's hands I should die! for heaven's sake, my dear Patsy, don't expose me to him. Your own saucy epistle leads me into this scrape. Mrs. Beekman is still in the City. They were very ungenteelly treated, being turned out of their house to accommodate Lord Howe; they were then moved into the street where my mother lives. Mr. & Mrs. G. are at their house in Chestnut Street. Notwithstanding the gratification of their wishes was completed in the arrival of the British Army, they received the usual disappointment. Miss Roche did not marry 'S'—by all accounts he is a vile fellow—so tell M. he may have hopes. Miss —— is not shackled, tho' she has many bleeding hearts at her feet." (The owners of the bleeding hearts were British officers.) "Her vivacity makes her admired, though saucy! One of her saucy bon mots I cannot omit. Sir William Howe, in a large company one evening, snatched a piece of narrow riband from her the moment she entered the ball room." (Here, alas, a covetous rat made a bonne bouche of the bon mot—perhaps it is as well!) "Little Poll Redmond still continues as violent a patriot as ever, and sings 'War and Washington' and 'Burgoyne's Defeat' for the British officers, and with a particular emphasis and saucy countenance warbles forth 'Cooped up in a Town.' You have no idea of the gay winter here; and likewise the censure thrown on the poor girls for not scorning these pleasures. You, my friend, have liberality of sentiment and can make proper allowance for young people deprived of the gaieties and amusements of life; with Plays, concerts, Balls, Assemblies in rotation courting their presence. Politics is never introduced. The Whig ladies are treated with the same politeness as the Tory ladies. I myself have been prevailed on to partake of the amusements, and I am, in raillery, styled 'rebel,' and all the Whig news is kept from me. I had the 'draught of the bill' and Lord North's letter. I have met a great Hessian Yager Colonel," etc., through endless gossip of which the above is the only admissible sample!
It is unpleasant to observe that this letter was written in the winter of 1777-1778—the winter that young Bartholomew Yates, a lieutenant in a Virginia regiment, fell into the hands of the enemy, and died in captivity from wounds inflicted, after his surrender, by the Hessians—possibly at the order of my lady's "great Hessian Yager Colonel," who was, according to her narrative, admitted to her society and confiding to her the secrets of the enemy. At that moment many American prisoners,—among them young John Spotswood,—desperately wounded, were in Philadelphia inhumanly treated, dying from wanton neglect; and General Washington indignantly threatening retaliation in his letters to Sir William Howe. "The English officers were received in the best society with more than toleration, and they soon became extremely popular. The winter was long remembered in Philadelphia for its gayety and its charm. There were no signs of that genuine dislike which had been abundantly displayed in Boston." It appears the ladies of Philadelphia ignored the well-known character of Sir William Howe. Also that the courtly Sir William, when he found a house that suited him, knew how to make the terms for it.[16] He took the mansion of a rich old loyalist Quaker, John Pemberton (in the absence of the latter), and used also the elegant carriage of the Quaker for his parties of pleasure. When the latter returned home he found his property much injured, and claimed indemnity. Sir William curtly refused. "Thee had better take care!" said John Pemberton. "Thee has done great damage to my house, and thee has suffered thy wicked women to ride in my carriage, and my wife will not use it since. Thee must pay me for the injury or I will go to thy master" (the King) "and lay my complaint before him."
Sir William did take care! He paid the money.
That most unfortunate of men, Major André, devised in honor of Sir William Howe the splendid festival of the Mischianza during the occupation of Philadelphia. Our gay correspondent received an invitation with "the Howe arms and motto vive vale. The device was a setting sun with 'He shines as he sets, to rise again.' We went to Pool's bridge in carriages—thence boats, barges and galleys bore us to ships of the fleet—all gay with the colors of all nations and every country, and amid them, waving with grace and elegance, our own Stars and Stripes!" "The entertainment comprised a regatta, a ball, and a great display of fireworks, with innumerable emblems and exhibitions of loyalty to England. It brought together one of the most brilliant assemblages of the youth, beauty and fashion of Philadelphia, and it was long remembered that Major André was most prominent in organizing the entertainment, and that the most prominent of the Philadelphia beauties who adorned it was Miss Shippen, soon after to become the wife of Benedict Arnold."
Major André.
The tournament was between the "Knights of the Ladies of the Blended Rose and the Ladies of the Burning Mountain," the latter presumably the daughters of the country about to be consumed!
The gayety was at its height when the army was encamped just across the Schuylkill at Valley Forge—when the winter was one of extraordinary rigor. During that winter the army was often without bread, often entirely without meat. "Few men" had "more than one shirt, many only the moiety of one, and some none at all." Men were confined in hospitals or farmers' houses for want of shoes. In camp there were on a single day 2,898 men unfit for duty because they were "barefoot and otherwise naked." In December the men built fires and sat up all night because there were no blankets to cover them. When a march was necessary their way could be traced by their bleeding feet. In three weeks of this time the army at Valley Forge lost, in its overflowing hospitals, hundreds, some say thousands, of men. Just across the river American women were bandying idle compliments with the British and Hessian officers, living on delicacies of their providing, dancing at midnight routs and noonday festivals. Here, at Valley Forge, Martha Washington was passing among the sick with deeds and words of cheer, and the aged mother praying in solitude on the banks of the Rappahannock!
Of the lady, to whom the Philadelphia letter was addressed, we must, perforce, form doubtful conclusions. That she possessed a personality which found immediate favor in the eyes of men, there is not the least doubt. No man could send her an ordinary message of courtesy unadorned by expressions of gallantry. Alexander Hamilton writes of Mrs. Bland to her husband so warmly that he is constrained to explain, "I write in the style d'amitie, not d'amour, as might have been imagined." Says Arthur Lee, "Lay me at the feet of Mrs. Bland," prudently adding, "and in the bosom of your friendship."
Stephen Higginson of Boston eclipses them all, and dilates upon "the rapturous delight of one fond kiss from sun to sun," which it appears she had promised him; doubting, however, his "capacity for enjoyments so excessive and for so long a time." Her own colonel shows himself to be very tender and gentle to his wife. He preserved all her letters. The poor lady had the smallpox, that dreadful scourge of the time, but she had not the greatness of soul to keep from the soldier in the field the knowledge of her disaster. She drives him wild with her indefinite complainings, her vague hints. He begs her to spare him this torture. "You say you have been too ill until to-day to see yourself in the glass. You cannot know what doubts I have had, what altercations in my own mind whether you went to the glass or the glass came to you!" She pines for the stir and excitement of the camp. He entreats her to feel benevolence and interest in the stay-at-home people. But my lady is subtle; all her trouble is forsooth for his sake—and he believes her. He entreats her to spare him her repining at his absence, and says, "Remember 'tis for you, for my country, for my honor, that I endure this separation, the dangers and the hardships of war; remember that America cannot be free, and therefore cannot be happy, without the virtue of her sons and the heroism of her daughters."
We observe the lady gains her point. She joins the Court of Madam Washington in camp. We observe further, as confirmation of our estimate of her charms, that she did not long remain a widow after her husband's early death. She became Mrs. Blodgett, and again Mrs. Curran. Having refused to give John Randolph of Roanoke the papers and family portraits belonging to her first husband, he wrote bitterly of her, always as "the romantic Mrs. Bland-Blodgett-Curran."
With these volatile letters were others lining the ample egg-basket,—the originals of some of the most celebrated letters of Washington, Jefferson, Patrick Henry, Randolph, Richard Henry Lee, on the grave issues of the hour, and all addressed to Colonel Bland. A very important letter was from Arthur Lee, a pure, incorruptible patriot, who could not understand how a public servant living on a small salary could grow rich.
He was ambassador at the French court with Franklin. He left his countrymen in great straits for money, clothing, and provisions. He found their representatives abroad living in affluence. He wrote home, Dec. 13, 1778, "they have made immense private fortunes for themselves and their dependents. Mr. D. (Silas Deane) is generally understood to have made £60,000 sterling while he was commissioner; his clerk, from being penniless, keeps his house and carriage. Dr. Franklin's nephew, Mr. Williams, from being clerk in a sugar bakehouse in London, is become a capital merchant here, loading a number of ships on his own account, while gentlemen of the first fortunes in America cannot get remittances or credit for their subsistence.
Arthur Lee.
"These things are notorious, and there are no visible sources of this property but the public money and State secrets to trade upon.
"They will force me one day or other to bring the proof of these things before Congress and the public; when I am sure they will shed some of their borrowed plumes."
Letters from the French officers, Lafayette, Fleury, De Francey, speak of "des lauriers que vous avez gagné à la defense de votre patrie," etc. One from Lafayette's own hand illustrates the excellence of the marquis's English, perhaps quite as good as the American colonel's French:—
"Dear Sir: I make myself the pleasure of writing to you; and wishing you an agreeable sejour at home. If you find there a horse distinguished by his figure as well as his qualities for what you think I can desire of him, I shall be obliged to you to send him to me; Provided he would not be wicked for others or troublesome to me; as otherwise they are not so dear at equal beauties and qualities. Being so fine as I wish him, he must be verry dear. I beg your pardon for this commission and I am, with great affection
"Your most obedient servant,
La Fayette.
"P.S. We have not any other interesting news in camp but that a vessel is arrived in Portsmouth from France with fifty pieces of cannon and five thousand arms."
Rather an important item to follow an order for a horse.
How "verry dear" the marquis's fine horse was likely to be we can gather from a letter written by the good old gentleman at "Cawsons," from which we have news of some old friends among the race-horses: "I have a new coach which stands me in fourteen thousand and odd pounds of the present money. I have sold the horse 'Aristotle' at a profit and bought for your use the high-bred horse, 'Janus-and-Silver-eye,' which cost me one hundred and twenty pounds."
Another French officer who preferred his own English to Colonel Bland's French was Colonel Armand. He complains that "Congress have passed a resolve that have hurted me in my hart and reputation. I have not practise the way of making friend to me in congress, for I thought such way below the charactere of an honest man, and now God know but I shall trayed to justify myself by myself." Another letter exhibits Washington's stern ideas of honorable warfare, contrasting sharply with some well-remembered methods in later days.
"I am informed that the liberty I granted the light dragoons to impress horses has been horridly abused and perverted into a plundering scheme. I intended nothing more than that the horses belonging to the disaffected, in the neighborhood of the British Army, should be taken for the use of the dismounted dragoons and regularly reported to the quarter-master general that an account might be kept of the number of persons from whom they were taken in order to future settlement. You are to make known to your whole corps that they are not to meddle with the horses or other property of any inhabitants whatever; for they may be assured, as far as it depends upon me, that military execution will attend all caught in the like practice hereafter."
Other letters relate to General Washington's famous order against gaming, he being certain that "gentlemen"—that word so dear to the colonial Virginian—"can find amusement without application to this vile resource attended with so many evil consequences." In vain did one John Hawkins complain of loss because of his erection "for the amusement of gentlemen," of four large houses of entertainment with billiard-tables. It was decided that billiards, as "a game where wagers were laid" were included in the order.
These letters were written in times "well fitted to winnow the chaff from the grain." While Washington wrote of the falling away of the officers, and the desertion of thousands of men, he also paid more than one noble tribute to the brave and true men who remained with him. "Naked and starving as they are," he said, "we cannot enough admire their incomparable patience and fidelity."
Upon Colonel Bland's election to the First Congress, General Washington wrote him a most eloquent letter in behalf of an appropriation for the payment of the army. The original of this grand letter was found in the egg-basket collection.
"This army is of near eight years standing, six of which they have spent in the field, without any other shelter from the inclemency of the seasons than tents or such houses as they could build for themselves without expense to the public. They have encountered cold, hunger and nakedness. They have fought many battles and bled freely. They have done this without pay." This superb tribute to the men whose blood flows in the veins of the Sons and Daughters of the American Revolution, concludes with an earnest appeal to Congress for harmony. The jealousies already evident between the states filled his heart with anguish. He continues, "Unless our Union can be fixed upon this basis—the removal of the local prejudices which intrude upon and embarrass that great line of policy which alone can make us a free, happy and powerful people—unless our Union can be fixed on such a basis as to accomplish these, certain am I that we have toiled, bled and spent our treasure to very little purpose."
With this eloquent utterance we conclude our extracts from the half-burned letters, with which the poor negro's egg-basket was lined.