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.”