"The celebrated Miss Franks"—so distinguished for intelligence and high accomplishment, in Revolutionary times, could not properly be passed over in a series of notices of remarkable women of that period. In the brilliant position she occupied in fashionable society, she exerted, as may well be believed, no slight influence; for wit and beauty are potent champions in any cause for which they choose to arm themselves. That her talents were generally employed on the side of humanity and justice,—that the pointed shafts of her wit, which spared neither friend nor foe, were aimed to chastise presumption and folly—we may infer from the amiable disposition which it is recorded she possessed. Admired in fashionable circles, and courted for the charms of her conversation, she must have found many opportunities of exercising her feminine privilege of softening asperities and alleviating suffering—as well as of humbling the arrogance of those whom military success rendered regardless of the feelings of others. Though a decided loyalist, her satire did not spare those whose opinions she favored. It is related of her, that at a splendid ball given by the officers of the British army to the ladies of New York, she ventured one of those jests frequently uttered, which must have been severely felt in the faint prospect that existed of a successful termination to the war. During an interval of dancing, Sir Henry Clinton, previously engaged in conversation with Miss Franks, called out to the musicians, "Give us 'Britons, strike home.'"
"The commander-in-chief," exclaimed she, "has made a mistake; he meant to say, 'Britons—go home.'"
The keenness of her irony, and her readiness at repartee, were not less promptly shown in sharp tilting with the American officers. At the festival of the Mischianza, where even whig ladies were present, Miss Franks had appeared as one of the princesses. She remained in Philadelphia after its evacuation by the British troops. Lieutenant-Colonel Jack Steward of Maryland, dressed in a fine suit of scarlet, took an early occasion to pay his compliments; and gallantly said—"I have adopted your colors, my princess, the better to secure a courteous reception. Deign to smile on a true knight." To this covert taunt Miss Franks made no reply: but turning to the company who surrounded her, exclaimed—"How the ass glories in the lion's skin!" The same officer met with another equally severe rebuff, while playing with the same weapons. The conversation of the company was interrupted by a loud clamor from the street, which caused them to hasten to the windows. High head-dresses were then the reigning fashion among the English belles. A female appeared in the street, surrounded by a crowd of idlers, ragged in her apparel, and barefoot; but adorned with a towering head-dress in the extreme of the mode. Miss Franks readily perceived the intent of this pageant; and on the lieutenant-colonel's observing that the woman was equipped in the English fashion, replied, "Not altogether, colonel; for though the style of her head is British, her shoes and stockings are in the genuine continental fashion!" *
* Garden.
Many anecdotes of her quick and brilliant wit are extant in the memory of individuals, and many sarcastic speeches attributed to her have been repeated. It is represented that her information was extensive, and that few were qualified to enter the lists with her. General Charles Lee in the humorous letter he addressed to her—a jeu d'esprit she is said to have received with serious anger—calls her "a lady who has had every human and divine advantage." Rebecca Franks was the daughter and youngest child of David Franks, a Jewish merchant, who emigrated to this country about a century since. He married an Englishwoman before coming to America, and had three sons and two daughters. The eldest daughter married Andrew Hamilton, brother to the well-known proprietor of "The Woodlands." After the termination of the war, Rebecca married General Henry Johnson, a British officer of great merit, and accompanied him to England. He distinguished himself by some act of gallantry in one of the outbreaks of rebellion in Ireland, and received the honor of knighthood. Their residence was at Bath, where their only surviving son still lives. The other son was killed at the battle of Waterloo.
The lady who furnished the above details, informed me that her brother was entertained in 1810, at Lady Johnson's house in Bath, where she was living in elegant style, and exercising with characteristic grace the duties of hospitality, and the virtues that adorn social life. He described her person as of the middle height, rather inclining to embonpoint; and her expression of countenance as very agreeable, with fine eyes. Her manners were frank and cheerful, and she appeared happy in contributing to the happiness of others. Sir Henry was at that time living.
It is said that Lady Johnson, not long after this period, expressed to a young American officer her penitence for her former toryism, and her pride and pleasure in the victories of her countrymen on the Niagara frontier, in the war of 1812. It has been remarked that favorable sentiments towards the Americans are general among loyalists residing in England; while, on the other hand, the political animosity of Revolutionary times is still extant in the British American Colonies. A loyal spinster of four-score residing in one of these, when on a visit to one of her friends, some two years since, saw on the walls, among several portraits of distinguished men, a print of "the traitor Washington." She was so much troubled at the sight, that her friend, to appease her, ordered it to be taken down and put away during her visit. A story is told also of a gentleman high in office in the same colony, on whom an agent of the "New York Albion" called to deliver the portrait of Washington which the publisher that year presented to his subscribers. The gentleman, highly insulted, ordered the astonished agent to take "the ——— thing" out of his sight, and to strike his name instantly from the list.
Miss Franks, it has been mentioned, was one of the princesses of the Mischianza. This Italian word, signifying a medley or mixture, was applied to an entertainment, or series of entertainments, given by the British officers in Philadelphia as a parting compliment to Sir William Howe, just before his relinquishment of command to Sir Henry Clinton, and departure to England. Some of his enemies called it his triumph on leaving America unconquered. A description of this singular fête may be interesting to many readers; I therefore abridge one written, it is said, by Major André for an English lady's magazine.
I have seen a facsimile of the tickets issued, in a volume of American Historical and Literary curiosities. The names are in a shield, on which is a view of the sea with the setting sun, and on a wreath the words, "Luceo discedens, ancto splendore resurgam." At the top is General Howe's crest, with the words, "Vive vale." Around the shield runs a vignette; and various military trophies fill up the back-ground.
The entertainment was given on the 18th of May, 1778. It commenced with a grand regatta, in three divisions. In the first was the Ferret galley, on board of which were several general officers and ladies. In the centre, the Hussar galley bore Sir William and Lord Howe, Sir Henry Clinton, their suite, and many ladies. The Cornwallis galley brought up the rear—General Knyphausen and suite, three British generals, and ladies, being on board. On each quarter of these galleys, and forming their division, were five flat boats lined with green cloth, and filled with ladies and gentlemen. In front were three flat boats, with bands of music. Six barges rowed about each flank, to keep off the swarm of boats in the river. The galleys were dressed in colors and streamers; the ships lying at anchor were magnificently decorated; and the transport ships with colors flying, which extended in a line the whole length of the city, were crowded, as well as the wharves, with spectators. The rendezvous was at Knight's wharf, at the northern extremity of the city. The company embarked at halfpast four, the three divisions moving slowly down to the music. Arrived opposite Market wharf, at a signal all rested on their oars, and the music played "God save the king," answered by three cheers from the vessels. The landing was at the Old Fort, a little south of the town, and in front of the building prepared for the company—a few hundred yards from the water. This regatta was gazed at from the wharves and warehouses by all the uninvited population of the city.
When the general's barge pushed for shore, a salute of seventeen guns was fired from His Majesty's ship Roebuck; and after an interval, seventeen from the Vigilant. The procession advanced through an avenue formed by two Files of grenadiers, each supported by a line of light-horse. The avenue led to a spacious lawn, lined with troops, and prepared for the exhibition of a tilt and tournament. The music, and managers with favors of white and blue ribbons in their breasts, led the way, followed by the generals and the rest of the company.
In front, the building bounded the view through a vista formed by two triumphal arches in a line with the landing place. The pavilions, with rows of benches rising one above another, received the ladies, while the gentlemen ranged themselves on each side. On the front seat of each pavilion were seven young ladies as princesses, in Turkish habits, and wearing in their turbans the favors meant for the knights who contended. The sound of trumpets was heard in the distance; and a band of knights in ancient habits of white and red silk, mounted on gray horses caparisoned in the same colors, attended by squires on foot, heralds and trumpeters, entered the lists. Lord Cathcart was chief of these knights; and appeared in honor of Miss Auchmuty. One of his esquires bore his lance, another his shield; and two black slaves in blue and white silk, with silver clasps on their bare neck and arms, held his stirrups. The band made the circuit of the square, saluting the ladies, and then ranged themselves in a line with the pavilion in which were the ladies of their device. Their herald, after a flourish of trumpets, proclaimed a challenge; asserting the superiority of the ladies of the Blended Rose, in wit, beauty and accomplishment, and offering to prove it by deeds of arms according to the ancient laws of chivalry. At the third repetition of the challenge, another herald and trumpeters advanced from the other side of the square, dressed in black and orange, and proclaimed defiance to the challengers, in the name of the knights of the Burning Mountain. Captain Watson, the chief, appeared in honor of Miss Franks; his device—a heart with a wreath of flowers; his motto—Love and Glory. This band also rode round the lists, and drew up in front of the white knights. The gauntlet was thrown down and lifted; the encounter took place. After the fourth encounter, the two chiefs, spurring to the centre, fought singly, till the marshall of the field rushed between, and declared that the ladies of the Blended Rose and the Burning Mountain were satisfied with the proofs of love and valor already given, and commanded their knights to desist. The bands then filed off in different directions, saluting the ladies as they approached the pavilions.
The company then passed in procession through triumphal arches built in the Tuscan order, to a garden in front of the building; and thence ascended to a spacious hall painted in imitation of Sienna marble. In this hall and apartment adjoining, were tea and refreshments; and the knights, kneeling, received their favors from the ladies. On entering the room appropriated for the faro table, a cornucopia was seen filled with fruit and flowers; another appeared in going out, shrunk, reversed and empty. The next advance was to a ball-room painted in pale blue, pannelled with gold, with drooping festoons of flowers; the surbase pink, with drapery festooned in blue. Eighty-five mirrors, decked with flowers and ribbons, reflected the light from thirty-four branches of wax lights. On the same floor were four drawing-rooms with sideboards of refreshments, also decorated and lighted up. The dancing continued till ten; the windows were then thrown open, and the fire-works commenced with a magnificent bouquet of rockets.
At twelve, large folding doors, which had hitherto been concealed, were suddenly thrown open, discovering' a splendid and spacious saloon, richly painted, and brilliantly illuminated; the mirrors and branches decorated, as also the supper table; which was set out—according to Major André's account—with four hundred and thirty covers, and twelve hundred dishes. When supper was ended, the herald and trumpeters of the Blended Rose entered the saloon, and proclaimed the health of the king and royal family—followed by that of the knights and ladies; each toast being accompanied by a flourish of music. The company then returned to the ball-room; and the dancing continued till four o'clock.
This was the most splendid entertainment ever given by officers to their general. The next day the mirrors and lustres borrowed from the citizens were sent home, with their ornaments. The pageant of a night was over; Sir William Howe departed. The folly and extravagance displayed were apparent not only to the foes of Britain. It is said that an old Scotch officer of artillery, when asked if he would be surprised at an attack from General Washington during the festivities of the day, replied—"If Mr. Washington possess the wisdom and sound policy I have ever attributed to him, he will not meddle with us at such a time. The excesses of the present hour are to him equivalent to a victory."
It is interesting to contrast the situation of the two hostile armies at this time; and to follow the destiny of the revellers. When the alliance was concluded between France and America, it was determined in Great Britain immediately to evacuate Philadelphia, and concentrate the royal forces in the city and harbor of New York. In one month knights and army marched from the city they had occupied. Major André, represented as the charm of the company, who had aided in painting the decorations, and illustrated the pageant by his pen, went forth to mingle in graver scenes. General Wayne writes, on the twelfth of July: "Tell those Philadelphia ladies who attended Howe's assemblies and levees, that the heavenly, sweet, pretty redcoats—the accomplished gentlemen of the guards and 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."
But the empire of beauty was not to be overthrown by political changes. The belles who had graced the fête found the reproach cast on them by indignant patriots speedily forgotten. When the Americans, on their return to the capital, gave a ball to their own and the French officers, and it was debated whether the ladies of the Mischianza should be honored with invitations, the question was soon decided by the reflection that it would be impossible to make up an agreeable company without them.
The old building called the Carpenter Mansion, the site of which is now occupied by the Arcade in Philadelphia, was the residence of Doctor Thomas Graeme, the father of Mrs. Ferguson. He was a native of Scotland; distinguished as a physician in the city; and for some time was colonial collector of the port. He married Anne, the daughter of Sir William Keith, then Governor of Pennsylvania.
More than thirty years before the Revolution, when these premises were occupied by Governor Thomas, the fruit-trees, garden, and shrubbery often allured the townsfolk to extend their walks thither. The youth of that day were frequently indebted to the kindness of the Governor's lady, who invited them to help themselves from a long range of cherry-trees; and when May day came, the young girls were treated to bouquets and wreaths from the gardens. After the death of Dr. Graeme, in 1772, the property passed successively into different hands. In time of the war, the house was appropriated for the use of the sick American soldiery, who died there in hundreds, of the camp fever. The sufferers were supplied with nourishment by the ladies of Philadelphia; and General Washington himself sent them a cask of Madeira, which he had received as a present from Robert Morris. The mansion was the scene, moreover, of a most touching spectacle, on one occasion, when the mother of a youth from the country came to seek her son among the dead in the hospital. While mourning over him as lost to her for ever, she discerned signs of life, and ere long he was restored to consciousness in her arms. *
* See Watson's Annals of Philadelphia.
While occupied by Dr. Graeme, the house was long rendered attractive and celebrated, not only by his exuberant hospitality, but by the talents and accomplishments of his youngest daughter. She was the centre of the literary coteries of that day, who were accustomed to meet at her father's residence. Even in early life she discovered a mind richly endowed with intellectual gifts. These were cultivated with care by her excellent and accomplished mother. She was born in 1739. In her youth she passed much time in study; for which, and the cultivation of her poetical talents, opportunities were afforded in the pleasant retreat where her parents spent their summers—Graeme Park, in Montgomery county, twenty miles from Philadelphia. It is said that the translation of Telemachus into English verse—the manuscript volumes of which are in the Philadelphia Library—was undertaken by Elizabeth Graeme, as a relief and diversion of her mind from the suffering occasioned by a disappointment in love. After this, the failure of her health induced her father to send her to Europe. Her mother, who had long been declining, wished her much to go, and for a reason as singular as it is touching. * She believed the time of her death to be at hand; and felt that the presence of her beloved daughter prevented that exclusive fixing of her thoughts and affections upon heavenly things, which in her last hours she desired.
* See Hazard's Pennsylvania Register, vol. iii., p. 394, for a memoir of Mrs. Ferguson, first published in the Port-Folio, from which are derived these particulars of her personal history. Some of her letters appeared in the Port-Folio.
This distrust of the heart is not an uncommon feeling. Archbishop Lightfoot wished to die separated from his home and family. A mother, some years ago, in her last moments said to her daughter, who sat weeping at her bedside, "Leave me, my child; I cannot die while you are in the room." Something of the same feeling is shown in an extract from one of Mrs. Graeme's letters, written to be delivered after her death: "My trust," she says, "is in my heavenly Father's mercies, procured and promised by the all-sufficient merits of my blessed Saviour; so that whatever time it may be before you see this, or whatever weakness I may be under on my death-bed, be assured this is my faith—this is my hope from my youth up until now."
Mrs. Graeme died, as she expected, during the absence of her daughter; but left two farewell letters to be delivered on her return. These contained advice respecting her future life in the relations of wife and mistress of a household; and the most ardent expressions of maternal affection. Elizabeth remained a year in England, under the guardianship of the Rev. Dr. Richard Peters, of Philadelphia, whose position enabled him to introduce her into the best society. She was sought for in literary circles, attracted the attention of distinguished persons by her mental accomplishments, and was particularly noticed by the British monarch. The celebrated Dr. Fothergill, whom she consulted as a physician, was during his life her friend and correspondent.
Her return to Philadelphia was welcomed by a numerous circle of friends, who came to condole with her upon her mother's death, and to testify their affectionate remembrance of herself. The stores of information gained during her visit to Great Britain, where she had been "all eye, all ear, and all grasp," were dispensed for the information and entertainment of those she loved. She now occupied the place of her mother in her father's family, managing the house and presiding in the entertainment of his visitors. During several years of their winter residence in the city, Saturday evenings were appropriated for the reception of their friends, and strangers who visited Philadelphia with introductions to the family of Dr. Graeme. The mansion was, in fact, the head-quarters of literature and refinement; and the hospitality of its owner rendered it an agreeable resort. Miss Graeme was the presiding genius. Her brilliant intellect, her extensive and varied knowledge, her vivid fancy, and cultivated taste, offered attractions which were enhanced by the charm of her graceful manners.
It was at one of these evening assemblies that she first saw Hugh Henry Ferguson, a young gentleman lately arrived in the country from Scotland. They were pleased with each other at the first interview, being congenial in literary tastes, and a love of retirement. The marriage took place in a few months, notwithstanding that Ferguson was ten years younger than Miss Graeme. Not long after this event her father died, having bequeathed to his daughter the country-seat in Montgomery county, on which she and her husband continued to reside.
The happiness anticipated by Mrs. Ferguson in country seclusion and her books, was of brief duration. The discontents were increasing between Great Britain and America, which resulted in the war of Independence. It was necessary for Mr. Ferguson to take part with one or the other; and he decided according to the prejudices natural to his birth, by espousing the royal cause. From this time a separation took place between him and Mrs. Ferguson.
Her connection with certain political transactions exposed her for a time to much censure and mortification. But there is no reason to doubt the sincerity of her declarations with regard to the motives that influenced her conduct. Many of her unobtrusive charities testify to her sympathy with her suffering countrymen. She not only visited the cottages in her neighborhood with supplies of clothing, provisions, or medicines for the inmates, but while General Howe had possession of Philadelphia, she sent a quantity of linen into the city, spun with her own hands, and directed it to be made into shirts for the benefit of the American prisoners taken at the battle of Germantown.
Another instance of her benevolence is characteristic. On hearing, in one of her visits to the city, that a merchant had become reduced, and having been imprisoned for debt, was suffering from want of the comforts of life, she sent him a bed, and afterwards visited him in prison, and put twenty dollars into his hands. She refused to inform him who was his benefactor; but it was discovered by his description of her person and dress. At this time her annual income, it is said, was reduced to a very limited sum. Many other secret acts of charity, performed at the expense of her personal and habitual comforts were remembered by her friends, and many instances of her sensibility and tender sympathy with all who suffered.
Her husband being engaged in the British service, she was favored by the loyalists, while treated with respect at the same time by the other party as an American lady who occupied a high social position. *
* The reader is referred to the Life and Correspondence of President Reed, by his grandson, William B. Reed. Vol. i., 381. Mrs. Ferguson's letters are there quoted, with her narrative, at length.
It was natural that she should be in some measure influenced by attachment to the old order of things, and respect for the civil institutions she had been accustomed to venerate; while her desire for the good of her countrymen led to ardent wishes that the desolations and miseries she witnessed might cease. It is said she often wept over newspapers containing details of suffering. The sensibility that could not bear to look on the woes even of the brute creation, must have been severely tried by the daily horrors of civil war. It is not surprising, therefore, that she should be eager to seize any opportunity that offered, of being instrumental in ending them.
Immediately after the British took possession of Philadelphia, Mrs. Ferguson was the bearer of a letter from the Rev. Mr. Duché to General Washington, which greatly displeased him, causing him to express to her his disapprobation of the intercourse she seemed to have held with the writer, and his expectation that it should be discontinued. At a later period she came again to Philadelphia, under a pass granted her by the Commander-in-chief, for the purpose of taking leave of her husband. She was at the house of her friend Charles Stedman, which chanced to be the place appointed for the residence of Governor Johnstone, one of the commissioners sent under parliamentary authority to settle the differences between Great Britain and America. She was in company with him three times; the conversation being general on the first two occasions. His declarations, she says, were so warm in favor of American interests, that she looked upon him as really a friend to her country. He wished, since he could not himself be permitted to pass the lines, to find some person who would step forward and act a mediatorial part, by suggesting something to stop the effusion of blood likely to ensue if the war were carried on. Mrs. Ferguson said repeatedly, that she believed the sentiment of the people to be in favor of Independence. "I am certain," were her words in the last conversation on the subject—"that nothing short of Independence will be accepted." Yet it does not appear that her own views were averse to a re-union of the two countries.
Governor Johnstone then expressed a particular anxiety for the influence of General Reed; and requested Mrs. Ferguson, "if she should see him," to convey the idea, that provided he could, "com-formably to his conscience and views of things," exert his influence to settle the dispute, "he might command ten thousand guineas, and the best post in the government." In reply to Mrs. Ferguson's question, if Mr. Reed would not look upon such a mode of obtaining his influence as a bribe, Johnstone immediately disclaimed any such idea; said such a method of proceeding was common in all negotiations; and that one might honorably make it a man's interest to step forth in such a cause. She on her part expressed her conviction that if Mr. Reed thought it right to give up the point of Independence, he would say so without fee or reward; and if he were of a different opinion, no pecuniary emolument would lead him to give a contrary vote. Mr. Johnstone did not see the matter in this light.
A day or two after this communication was suggested, Mrs. Ferguson sent by a confidential messenger a note to General Reed, at head-quarters, requesting an hour's conversation previous to her going to Lancaster on business, and desiring him to fix a place where she could meet him without the necessity of passing through the camp. She stated that the business on which she wished to confer with him could not be committed to writing.
The note was received on the 21st of June, after General Reed's arrival in the city, which had been evacuated three days before by the British. He sent word by the bearer that he would wait upon Mrs. Ferguson the same evening. At this interview, the conversation treating of Governor Johnstone's desire of settling matters upon an amicable footing, and his favorable sentiments towards Mr. Reed, General Reed mentioned that he had received a letter from him at Valley Forge. Mrs. Ferguson then repeated, in all its particulars, the conversation that had passed at the house of Mr. Stedman. Her repetition of the proposition of Governor Johnstone brought from General Reed the prompt and noble reply: "I AM NOT WORTH PURCHASING; BUT SUCH AS I AM, THE KING OF GREAT BRITAIN IS NOT RICH ENOUGH TO DO IT."
General Reed laid before Congress both the written and verbal communications of Governor Johnstone; withholding, however, the name of the lady, from motives of delicacy, and reluctance to draw down popular indignation upon her. An account of the transaction was also published in the papers of the day. It was useless to attempt concealment of her name; suspicion was at once directed to her; and her name was called for by a resolution of the Executive Council of Pennsylvania. *
* "The attempt through the wife of a loyalist to bribe a member of Congress to aid in uniting the Colonies to the mother country, proved of incalculable service in recalling the doubting and irresolute whigs to a sense of duty. The story, and the noble reply, were repeated from mouth to mouth; and from the hour it was known, the whigs had won—the tories lost—the future empire."—Sabine's American Loyalists.
Congress issued a declaration condemning the daring and atrocious attempts made to corrupt their integrity, and declaring it incompatible with their honor to hold any manner of correspondence with the said George Johnstone. As may be imagined, disagreeable consequences ensued, which were severely felt by Mrs. Ferguson. As soon as she saw the article in Towne's Evening Post, which reached her at Graeme Park, July 26th, 1778, she addressed a letter of remonstrance to General Reed, bitterly complaining of having been exhibited in the newspapers as a mere emissary of the commissioners. "I own I find it hard," she says, "knowing the uncorruptness of my heart, to be held out to the public as a tool to the commissioners. But the impression is now made, and it is too late to recall it. How far, at this critical juncture of time, this affair may injure my property, is uncertain; that, I assure you, is but a secondary thought." *
* Letter published in the Remembrancer, vol. vi.
It appears evident that Mrs. Ferguson did not act this part in any expectation of deriving advantage for herself. Her associations and connections being chiefly with the royalists, it was natural that her opinions should be influenced by theirs; but her desire for the good of the country was undoubtedly disinterested. After the return of Governor Johnstone to England, he ventured to deny the charge preferred in the resolutions of Congress, by a letter published in Rivington's Gazette; and in a speech in November in the House of Commons, boldly asserted the falsehood of the statement made by General Reed. His denial no sooner reached America, than Mrs. Ferguson, anxious that justice should be done to all parties, published her narrative of the transaction, confirmed by her oath. The excellence of the motives which had actuated her in consenting to act as Johnstone's confidential agent, is sufficiently apparent in the spirit she now exhibited.
"Among the many mortifying insinuations that have been hinted on the subject, none has so sensibly affected me, as an intimation that some thought I acted a part, in consequence of certain expectations of a post, or some preferment from Mr. Johnstone, to be conferred on the person dearest to me on earth. On that head I shall say no more, but leave it to any person of common sense to determine, if I had any views of that kind, whether I should, in so full and solemn a manner, call in question what Mr. Johnstone has asserted in the House of Commons. A proceeding of this kind must totally exclude all avenues of favor from that quarter, were there ever any expected, which I solemnly declare never was the case. If this account should ever have the honor to be glanced over by the eye of Governor Johnstone, I know not in what medium he may view it. It is possible that the multiplicity of ideas, which may be supposed to pass through the brain of a politician in the course of a few months, may have jostled the whole transaction out of his memory. Should this be the case, insignificant and contemptible as I may appear to him, I believe there are two or three people in Britain who will venture to tell him, in all his plenitude of power, that they believe I would not set my hand to an untruth."
Mrs. Ferguson's poetical talent has been mentioned. Her verses were said to possess vigor and measure, but to lack melody, while her prose writings indicated both genius and knowledge. She was well read in polemical divinity, and a firm believer in the doctrines of revelation. She is said to have transcribed the whole Bible, to impress its contents more deeply upon her mind; hence the facility with which she would select appropriate passages to illustrate or adorn the subjects of her writings or conversation.
She had no children, but adopted the son and daughter of one of her sisters, who on her deathbed committed them to her care. The nephew, an accomplished scholar and gentleman, was till his death a lieutenant in the British army.
The talents and attainments of Mrs. Ferguson, her virtues, elevated and invigorated by Christian faith, her independence and integrity of character, and her benevolent feeling for others—endeared her name to a large circle of friends. Yet her life appears to have been one darkened by sorrow. In her later years the reduction of her income diminished her means of usefulness; but she would not permit any privations to which she found it necessary to submit, to be a source of unhappiness.
She died at the house of a friend near Graeme Park, on the twenty-third of February, 1801, in the sixty-second year of her age.
In 1756, Colonel George Washington, then commander-in-chief of the Virginia forces, had some difficulties concerning rank with an officer holding a royal commission. He found it necessary to communicate with General Shirley, the commander-in-chief of His Majesty's armies in America; and for this purpose left his head-quarters at Winchester, and travelled to Boston on horse-back, attended by his aids-de-camp. On his way, he stopped in some of the principal cities. The military fame he had gained, and the story of his remarkable escape at Brad-dock's defeat, excited general curiosity to see the brave young hero; and great attention was paid to him. While in New York, says his biographer, Mr. Sparks, "he was entertained at the house of Mr. Beverley Robinson, between whom and himself an intimacy of friendship subsisted, which indeed continued without change, till severed by their opposite fortunes twenty years afterwards in the Revolution. It happened that Miss Mary Philipse, a sister of Mrs. Robinson, and a young lady of rare accomplishments, was an inmate in the family. The charms of this lady made a deep impression upon the heart of the Virginia Colonel. He went to Boston, returned, and was again welcomed to the hospitality of Mrs. Robinson. He lingered there till duty called him away; but he was careful to entrust his secret to a confidential friend, whose letters kept him informed of every important event. In a few months intelligence came that a rival was in the field, and that the consequences could not be answered for, if he delayed to renew his visits to New York."
Washington could not at this time leave his post, however deeply his feelings may have been interested in securing the favor of the fair object of his admiration. The fact that his friend thought fit to communicate thus repeatedly with him upon the subject, does not favor the supposition that his regard was merely a passing fancy, or that the bustle of camp-life, or the scenes of war, had effaced her image from his heart. Mr. Sparks assures me that the letters referred to, which were from a gentleman connected with the Robinson family, though playful in their tone, were evidently written under the belief that an attachment existed on Washington's part, and that his happiness was concerned. How far the demonstrations of this attachment had gone, it is now impossible to ascertain; nor whether Miss Philipse had discouraged the Colonel's attentions so decidedly as to preclude all hope. The probability is, however, that he despaired of success. He never saw her again till after her marriage with Captain Roger Morris, the rival of whom he had been warned.
Mary Philipse was the daughter of the Hon. Frederick Philipse, Speaker of the Assembly. He was lord of the old manor of Philipsborough, and owned an immense landed estate on the Hudson. Mary was born at the Manor Hall, on the third of July, 1730. No particulars relating to her early life can be given by her relatives; but the tradition is, that she was beautiful, fascinating, and accomplished. A lady now living in New York, who knew her after she became Mrs. Morris, and had visited her at her residence near the city tells me that she was one of the most elegant women she had ever seen; and that her manners, uniting dignity with affability, charmed every one who knew her. The rumor of Washington's former attachment was then current, and universally believed. Her house was the resort of many visitors at all seasons. She removed to New York after her marriage, in 1758, with Roger Morris, who was a captain in the British army in the French war, and one of Brad-dock's aids-de-camp. A part of the Philipse estate came by right of his wife into his possession, and was taken from him by confiscation, in punishment for his loyalism. Mrs. Morris was included in the attainder, that the whole interest might pass under the act. * The rights of her children, however, as time showed, were not affected; and the reversionary interest was sold by them to John Jacob Astor.
* The authentic facts relating to Captain Morris and Colonel Robinson, and to their wives, have been preserved by Mr. Sabine in his "American Loyalists." He visited the relatives of the family in New Brunswick.
The descendants of Mrs. Robinson, the sister of Mary Morris, speak of her with warm praise, as one who possessed high qualities of mind, and great excellence of character. To one of these, a gentleman high in office in New Brunswick, the author of the 'Loyalists' once remarked in conversation, that there was some difference to his aunt, between being the wife of the Commander-in-chief—the first President of the United States, and the wife of an exile and an outlaw—herself attainted of treason. The tables were turned upon him by the reply, that Mrs. Morris had been remarkable for fascinating all who approached her, and moulding everybody to her will; and that had she married Washington, it could not be certain that she would not have kept him to his allegiance. "Indeed, Washington would not, could not have been a traitor with such a wife as Aunt Morris." Without dwelling on the possibilities of such a contingency, one can hardly think, without some degree of national shame, that a lady whom we have every reason to believe had been the object of Washington's love, "should be attainted of treason for clinging to the fortunes of her husband."
Mrs. Morris died in England in 1825, at the advanced age of ninety-six. The portrait of her is engraved from an original painting taken after her marriage, and now in the possession of her namesake and grandniece, Mrs. Governeur, who resides at "Highland Grange," Philipstown, in the Highlands. It is stated in the History of Westchester County, that Miss Mary Philipse was the original of the lovely character of Frances, in Mr. Cooper's novel of "The Spy:" this is incorrect.
Susannah, the sister of Mary Philipse, was the wife of Beverley Robinson of New York. There is some ground for the belief that she actually exercised over her husband's mind some portion of the influence said to have been possessed by her sister; for it appears that he was at first disinclined to take any active part in the contest between the Colonies and Great Britain. He was so much opposed to the measures of the ministry, that he would not use imported merchandise; but was at length prevailed on by his friends to enter the royal service. As before-mentioned, he and Washington were intimate friends before they were separated by difference of political opinion. "The Robinson house," which had been confiscated with the lands, was occupied by Arnold as his head-quarters, and by Washington at the time of Arnold's treason.
When Colonel Robinson gave up the quiet enjoyment of country life, his wife took her share of the outlawry that awaited him; she, as well as her sister, being included in the act of confiscation. After their removal to England, they lived in retirement. She died near Bath, at the age of ninety-four, in 1822. Her descendants in New Brunswick preserve, among other relics of the olden time, a silver tea-urn, of rich and massive workmanship, said to be the first of such articles used in America.
The failure of the British commissioners to conclude an amicable adjustment of differences between the two countries—and the ill success of the effort to gain their ends by private intrigue and bribery—annihilated the hopes of those who had desired the acceptance by Congress of terms of accommodation. War was now the only prospect; the reduction of the Colonies to obedience by force of arms, or the establishment of national Independence by a protracted struggle. The movements and expeditions which succeeded the battle of Monmouth—the incursion of the Indians and tories under Colonel John Butler and Brandt, for the destruction of the settlement in the lovely valley of Wyoming—the terrible tragedy of July, with the retaliatory expeditions against the Indians—and the repetition of the barbarities of Wyoming at Cherry Valley, in November—were the prominent events that took place in the middle and northern sections of the country during the remainder of 1778. The scene of important action was now changed to the South. In November, Count D'Estaing, with the French fleet, sailed for the West Indies, to attack the British dependencies in that quarter. General Sir Henry Clinton, on his part, despatched Colonel Campbell from New York, on an expedition against Georgia, the feeblest of the southern provinces. His troops landed late in December near Savannah, which was then defended by the American general, Robert Howe. His small force being enfeebled by sickness, defeat was the consequence of an attack; and the remnant of the American army retreated into South Carolina. The British having obtained possession of the capital of Georgia, the plan of reducing that State and South Carolina was vigorously prosecuted in 1779, while the armies of Washington and Clinton were employed in the northern section of the Union. Soon after the fall of Savannah, General Prevost, with troops from East Florida, took possession of the only remaining military post in Georgia; and joining his forces to those of Colonel Campbell, assumed the chief command of the royal army at the South. The loyalists who came along the western frontier of Carolina to join his standard, committed great devastations and cruelties on their way. General Lincoln, who commanded the continental forces in the southern department, sent a detachment under General Ashe across the Savannah, to repress the incursions of the enemy, and confine them to the low country near the sea coast. The surprise and defeat of this detachment by Prevost, completed the subjugation of Georgia. But in April General Lincoln entered the field anew, and leaving Moultrie to watch Prevost's movements, commenced his march up the left bank of the Savannah and crossed into Georgia near Augusta, with the intention of advancing on the capital. Prevost attacked Moultrie and Pulaski, compelling them to retreat; and then hurried to place himself before Charleston. From this position, however, he was obliged to withdraw on Lincoln's approach. He proceeded to the island of St. John's, separated from the mainland by an inlet called Stono River; and leaving a division at Stono Ferry, retired with a part of his force towards Savannah. On the 20th of June, Lincoln attacked the division at Stono Ferry, but was repulsed. The British soon after established a post at Beaufort, and the main body of the army retired to Savannah. For some months the hot and sickly season prevented further action on either side.
The siege of Savannah under D'Estaing and Lincoln took place early in October, 1779. The Americans were repulsed, the gallant Pulaski receiving his death wound; and the enterprise was abandoned. The French fleet departed from the coast; and General Lincoln retreated into South Carolina. A cloud of despondency hung over the close of this year. The flattering hopes inspired by the alliance with France had not been realized. The continental army reduced in numbers and wretchedly clothed—the treasury empty—the paper currency rapidly diminishing in value—distress was brought on all classes, and the prospect seemed more than ever dark and discouraging. On the other hand, Britain displayed new resources, and made renewed exertions, notwithstanding the formidable combination against her. Sir Henry Clinton determined to make the South his most important field of operations for the future, and planned the campaign of 1780 on an extensive scale. He arrived in Georgia late in January, and early in the succeeding month left Savannah for the siege of Charleston, then defended by General Lincoln. The fleet of Arbuthnot was anchored in the harbor, and the British overran the country on the left side of the Cooper river. The surrender of Charleston on the twelfth of May, seemed to secure the recovery of the southern section of the Union; and Clinton immediately set about re-establishing the royal government.
The foregoing brief glance at the course of events during the two years succeeding the evacuation of Philadelphia, is necessary to prepare the reader for the southern sketches that follow.
A few hundred yards from a fine landing on Stono River, upon John's Island, about two hours' sail from Charleston, stands a large, square, ancient-looking mansion, strongly built of brick, with a portico fronting the river. On the side towards the road, the wide piazza overlooks a lawn; and a venerable live oak, with aspen, sycamore, and other trees, shade it from the sun. On either side of the house, about twenty yards distant, stands a smaller two story building, connected with the main building by a neat open fence. In one of these is the kitchen and out-offices; the other was formerly the school-house and tutor's dwelling. Beyond are the barns, the overseer's house, and the negro huts appertaining to a plantation. The garden in old times was very large and well-cultivated, being laid out in wide walks, and extending from the mansion to the river. The "river walk," on the verge of a bluff eight or ten feet in height, followed the bending of the water, and was bordered with orange-trees. Tall hedges of the ever-green wild orange-tree divided the flower from the vegetable garden, and screened from view the family burial-ground. The beautifully laid out grounds, and shaded walks, give this place a most inviting aspect, rendering it such an abode as its name of "Peaceful Retreat" indicated.
At the period of the Revolution this mansion was well known throughout the country as the seat of hospitality and elegant taste. Its owner, Robert Gibbes, was a man of cultivated mind and refined manners—one of those gentlemen of the old school, of whom South Carolina has justly made her boast. Early in life he became a martyr to the gout, by which painful disease his hands and feet were so contracted and crippled that he was deprived of their use. The only exercise he was able to take, was in a chair on wheels, in which he was placed every day, and by the assistance of a servant, moved about the house, and through the garden. The circuit through these walks and along the river, formed his favorite amusement. Unable, by reason of his misfortune, to take an active part in the war, his feelings were nevertheless warmly enlisted on the republican side; and his house was ever open for the reception and entertainment of the friends of liberty. He had married Miss Sarah Reeve, she being at the time about eighteen years of age. Notwithstanding her youth, she had given evidence that she possessed a mind of no common order. The young couple had a house in Charleston, but spent the greater part of their time at their country-seat and plantation upon John's Island. Here Mrs. Gibbes devoted herself with earnestness to the various duties before her; for in consequence of her husband's infirmities, the management of an extensive estate, with the writing on business it required—devolved entirely upon her. In addition to a large family of her own, she had the care of the seven orphan children of Mrs. Fenwick, the sister of Mr. Gibbes, who at her death had left them and their estate to his guardianship. Two other children—one her nephew, Robert Barnwell—were added to her charge. The multiplied cares involved in meeting all these responsibilities, with the superintendence of household concerns, required a rare degree of energy and activity; yet the mistress of this well ordered establishment had always a ready and cordial welcome for her friends, dispensing the hospitalities of "Peaceful Retreat," with a grace and cheerful politeness that rendered it a most agreeable resort.
It was doubtless the fame of the luxurious living at this delightful country-seat—which attracted the attention of the British during the invasion of Prevost, while the royal army kept possession of the seaboard. A battalion of British and Hessians, determined to quarter themselves in so desirable a spot, arrived at the landing at the dead of night, and marching up in silence, surrounded the house. The day had not yet begun to dawn, when an aged and faithful servant tapped softly at the door of Mrs. Gibbes' apartment. The whisper—"Mistress, the redcoats are all around the house," was the first intimation given of their danger. "Tell no one, Cæsar, but keep all quiet," she replied promptly; and her preparations were instantly commenced to receive the intruders. Having dressed herself quickly, she went up-stairs, waked several ladies who were guests in the house, and requested them to rise and dress with all possible haste. In the meantime the domestics were directed to prepare the children, of whom, with her own eight and those under her care, there were sixteen; the eldest being only fifteen years old. These were speedily dressed and seated in the spacious hall. Mrs. Gibbes then assisted her husband, as was always her custom—to rise and dress, and had him placed in his rolling chair. All these arrangements were made without the least confusion, and so silently, that the British had no idea anyone was yet awake within the house. The object of Mrs. Gibbes was to prevent violence on the enemy's part, by showing them at once that the mansion was inhabited only by those who were unable to defend themselves. The impressive manner in which this was done produced its effect. The invaders had no knowledge that the inmates were aware of their presence, till daylight, when they heard the heavy rolling of Mr. Gibbes' chair across the great hall towards the front door. Supposing the sound to be the rolling of a cannon, the soldiers advanced, and stood prepared with pointed bayonets to rush in, when the signal for assault should be given. But as the door was thrown open, and the stately form of the invalid presented itself, surrounded by women and children, they drew back, and—startled into an involuntary expression of respect—presented arms. Mr. Gibbes addressed them—yielding, of course, to the necessity that could not be resisted. The officers took immediate possession of the house, leaving the premises to their men, and extending no protection against pillage. The soldiers roved at their pleasure about the plantation, helping themselves to whatever they chose; breaking into the wine room, drinking to intoxication, and seizing upon and carrying off the negroes. A large portion of the plate was saved by the provident care of a faithful servant, who secretly buried it. Within the mansion the energy and self-possession of Mrs. Gibbes still protected her family. The appearance of terror or confusion might have tempted the invaders to incivility; but it was impossible for them to treat otherwise than with deference, a lady whose calm and quiet deportment commanded their respect. Maintaining her place as mistress of her household, and presiding at her table, she treated her uninvited guests with a dignified courtesy that ensured civility while it prevented presumptuous familiarity. The boldest and rudest among them bowed involuntarily to an influence which fear or force could not have secured.
When the news reached Charleston that the British had encamped on Mr. Gibbes' plantation, the authorities in the city despatched two galleys to dislodge them. These vessels ascended the river in the night, and arriving opposite, opened a heavy fire upon the invaders' encampment. The men had received strict injunctions not to fire upon the house, for fear of injury to any of the family. It could not, however, be known to Mr. Gibbes that such a caution had been given; and as soon as the Americans began their fire, dreading some accident, he proposed to his wife that they should take the children and seek a place of greater safety. Their horses being in the enemy's hands, they had no means of conveyance; but Mrs. Gibbes, with energies roused to exertion by the danger, and anxious only to secure shelter for her helpless charge, set off to walk with the children to an adjoining plantation situated in the interior. A drizzling rain was falling, and the weather was extremely chilly; the fire was incessant from the American guns, and sent—in order to avoid the house—in a direction which was in a range with the course of the fugitives. The shot, falling around them, cut the bushes, and struck the trees on every side. Exposed each moment to this imminent danger, they continued their flight with as much haste as possible, for about a mile, till beyond the reach of the shot.
Having reached the houses occupied by the negro laborers on the plantation, they stopped for a few moments to rest. Mrs. Gibbes, wet, chilled, and exhausted by fatigue and mental anxiety, felt her strength utterly fail, and was obliged to wrap herself in a blanket and lie down upon one of the beds. It was at this time, when the party first drew breath freely—with thankfulness that the fears of death were over—that on reviewing the trembling group to ascertain if all had escaped uninjured, it was found that a little boy, John Fenwick, was missing. In the hurry and terror of their flight the child had been forgotten and left behind! What was now to be done? The servants refused to risk their lives by returning for him; and in common humanity, Mr. Gibbes could not insist that any one should undertake the desperate adventure. The roar of the distant guns was still heard, breaking at short intervals the deep silence of the night. The chilly rain was falling, and the darkness was profound. Yet the thought of abandoning the helpless boy to destruction, was agony to the hearts of his relatives. In this extremity the self-devotion of a young girl interposed to save him. Mary Anna, the eldest daughter of Mrs. Gibbes—then only thirteen years of age, determined to venture back—in spite of the fearful peril—alone. The mother dared not oppose her noble resolution, which seemed indeed an inspiration of heaven; and she was permitted to go. Hastening along the path with all the speed of which she was capable, she reached the house, still in the undisturbed possession of the enemy; and entreated permission from the sentinel to enter; persisting, in spite of refusal, till by earnest importunity of supplication, she gained her object. Searching anxiously through the house, she found the child in a room in a third story, and lifting him joyfully in her arms, carried him down, and fled with him to the spot where her anxious parents were awaiting her return. The shot still flew thickly around her, frequently throwing up the earth in her way; but protected by the Providence that watches over innocence, she joined the rest of the family in safety. * The boy saved on this occasion by the intrepidity of the young girl, was the late General Fenwick, distinguished for his services in the last war with Great Britain. "Fenwick Place," still called "Headquarters," was three miles from "Peaceful Retreat."
* Major Garden, who after the war married Mary Anna Gibbes, mentions this intrepid action. There are a few errors in his account; he calls the boy who was left, "a distant relation," and says the dwelling-house was fired on by the Americans. The accomplished lady who communicated the particulars to me, heard them from her grandmother, Mrs. Gibbes; and the fact that the house was not fired upon, is attested by a near relative now living. The house never bore any marks of shot; though balls and grape-shot have been often found on the plantation. Again—Garden says the family "were allowed to remain in some of the upper apartments;" and were at last "ordered to quit the premises," implying that they were treated with some severity as prisoners. This could not have been the case; as Mrs. Gibbes constantly asserted that she presided at her own table, and spoke of the respect and deference with which she was uniformly treated by the officers. Her refusal to yield what she deemed a right, ensured civility toward herself and household.
The family Bible, from which the parentage of General Fenwick might have been ascertained, was lost during the Revolution, and only restored to the family in the summer of 1847.
Some time after these occurrences, when the family were again inmates of their own home, a battle was fought in a neighboring field. When the conflict was over, Mrs. Gibbes sent her servants to search among the slain left upon the battle-ground, for Robert Barnwell, her nephew, who had not returned. They discovered him by part of his dress, which one of the blacks remembered having seen his mother making. His face was so covered with wounds, dust and blood, that he could not be recognized. Yet life was not extinct; and under the unremitting care of his aunt and her young daughter, he recovered. His son, Robert W. Barnwell, was for some years president of the South Carolina College. Scenes like these were often witnessed by the subject of this sketch, and on more than a few occasions did she suffer acute anxiety on account of the danger of those dear to her. She was accustomed to point out the spot where her eldest son, when only sixteen years old, had been placed as a sentinel, while British vessels were in the river, and their fire was poured on him. She would relate how, with a mother's agony of solicitude, she watched the balls as they struck the earth around him, while the youthful soldier maintained his dangerous post, notwithstanding the entreaties of an old negro hid behind a tree, that he would leave it. Through such trials, the severity of which we who enjoy the peace so purchased cannot fully estimate, she exhibited the same composure, and readiness to meet every emergency, with the same benevolent sympathy for others. During the struggle, while Carolina was invaded or in a state of defence, her house was at different times the quarters of friend and foe. The skirmishes were frequent, and many who went forth in the morning in health and vigor, returned no more; nor did she know from day to day who were next to be her guests.
Mrs. Gibbes had a cultivated taste; and amidst her many cares, still found leisure for literary occupation. Volumes of her writings remain, filled with well-selected extracts from the many books she read, accompanied by her own comments; with essays on various subjects, copies of letters to her friends, and poetry. Everything from her pen evinces delicacy as well as strength of mind, extensive information, and refinement of taste, with the tenderest sensibility, and a deep tone of piety. Most of her letters were written after the war, and throw no additional light on the feeling or manners of that period.
She was in the habit of putting aside locks of hair enclosed with appropriate poetical tributes, as mementoes of her departed friends; and many of these touching memorials have been found among her papers. For fifteen years she was deprived of sight, but lost nothing of her cheerfulness, or the engaging grace of her manner; nor was her conversation less interesting or entertaining to her visitors. A stranger, who shortly before her death was at her house with a party of friends, whom she delighted by her conversation—expressed great surprise on being informed she was blind.
During the latter part of her life, she resided at Wilton, the country-seat of Mrs. Barnard Elliott, where she died in 1825, at the age of seventy-nine. Her remains rest in the family burial-ground upon John's Island. A beautiful monumental inscription in St. Paul's church, Charleston, records the virtues that adorned her character, and the faith which sustained her under many afflictions.