The Loyalist

CHAPTER I

"Please continue, Peggy. You were telling me who were there and what they wore. Oh, dear! I am so sorry mother would not give me leave to go. Was it all too gay?"

"It was wonderful!" was the deliberate reply. "We might have danced till now had not Washington planned that sudden attack. We had to leave then, – that was early this morning, – and I spent the day abed."

It was now well into the evening and the two girls had been seated for the longest time, it seemed, on the small sofa which flanked the east wall of the parlor. The dusk, which had begun to grow thick and fast when Marjorie had come to visit Peggy, was now quite absorbed into darkness; still the girls had not lighted the candles, choosing to remain in the dark until the story of the wonderful experience of the preceding day had been entirely related.

The grand pageant and mock tournament, the celebrated Mischienza, arranged in honor of General Howe, who had resigned his office as Commander-in-chief of His Majesty's forces in America to return to England, there to defend himself against his enemies in person, as General Burgoyne was now doing from his seat in Parliament, was an event long to be remembered not alone from the extravagance of its display, but from the peculiar prominence it afforded the foremost families of the city, particularly that of the Shippens.

Edward Shippen was a gentleman of rank, of character, of fortune, a member of one of the oldest and most respected families in the city of Philadelphia, whose ancestor, of the same name, had been Mayor of the city nigh an hundred years before. He belonged to the Society of Friends, or Quakers, and while he took no active interest on either side during the years of the war, still he was generally regarded as one of the sympathizers of the Crown. Because of the social eminence which the family enjoyed and the brilliance and genial hospitality which distinguished their affairs, the Shippens were considered the undisputed leaders of the social set of Philadelphia. The three lovely Misses Shippen were the belles of the more aristocratic class. They were toasted frequently by the gay English officers during the days of the British occupation, for their father's house was often the rendezvous of the titled celebrities of the day.

"And was your Captain there, too?" continued Marjorie, referring, of course, to Captain Monstresor, the engineer of the undertaking, an erstwhile admirer of Mistress Peggy.

"You must know, my dear, that he arranged the spectacle. I saw little of him until the dance. In truth, he seemed more popular than General Howe himself."

Marjorie sat up.

"Tell me! Did the tournament begin the program?"

"No!" replied Peggy. "The military procession of boats and barges with Lords Howe and Rawdon, General Howe and General Clinton, opened the event in the late morning, sailing up the river to the Wharton House, the scene of the tournament."

Marjorie nodded.

"The noise of the guns was deafening. When the flotilla arrived at Walnut Grove, which was lined with troops and bedecked brilliantly with flags and bunting, the pageant opened."

"Where were you in the meantime?" asked Marjorie, careful to lose no detail.

"We were seated in the pavilions, – seven ladies in each, – clothed in Turkish garments, each wearing in her turban the favor to be bestowed on her victorious knight."

"And who was your knight?"

"The Honorable Captain Cathcart," quickly replied Peggy, her eyes beaming with a smile of evident satisfaction and proud joy.

"Lord Cathcart, whom I met here?"

"The same," answered Peggy. "He was the leader of the 'Knights of the Blended Rose.'"

"What an odd name!" she exclaimed.

"I know it. They were named after their device. They were dressed in white and red silk, mounted on gray horses and attended by esquires. They were preceded by a herald who bore their device, two roses intertwined above the motto, 'We droop when separated.' My knight rode at the head, attended by two British Officers, and his two esquires, the one bearing his lance, the other his shield emblazoned with his device – Cupid astride a lion – over the motto, Surrounded by love.'"

"You little Tory," interrupted Marjorie. "I shall tell General Washington that you are disloyal and have lent your sympathy to a British Officer."

"I care little. The Yankees are without refinement – "

"Don't you dare say that," snapped Marjorie, her whole being animated with sudden anger. "It is untrue and you know it. They are patriots and – "

"Forgive me, dear," murmured Peggy, laying her hand on the arm of her irate friend. "I said that only in jest. I shan't continue if you are vexed."

There was silence.

"Please! I am not angry," Marjorie pleaded. "Do continue."

"I forget my story now. What did I tell? There was so much that I am confused."

"The Knights of the Rose!" suggested Marjorie.

"Oh, yes! Well, this body of knights made the circuit of the square and then saluted their ladies. On a sudden, a herald advanced with a flourish of trumpets and announced that the ladies of the Blended Rose excelled in wit, beauty, grace, charm and accomplishments those of the whole world and challenged a denial by deeds of arms. Whereupon a counter sound of trumpets was heard from afar and another herald galloped before a body of knights in black and orange silk with the device – a wreath of flowers surrounding a burning heart – over the motto, 'Love and Glory.' These were the Knights of the Burning Mountain, who came to dispute the claim of the Knights of the Blended Rose."

"It must have been gorgeous!" exclaimed Marjorie, clasping her hands before her.

"Indeed it was. Well, after several preliminaries, the encounter took place, the knights receiving their lances together with their shields from their esquires, whereupon they saluted and encountered at full speed, shivering their spears against the shield of their adversaries. They next encountered and discharged their pistols and then fought with swords. Again the two chiefs of the warring factions, Captain Cathcart of the Blended Rose and Captain Watson of the Burning Mountain, met in mid field to try their arms as champions of their respective parties. They parried and thrust with true knightly valor until Major Grayson, as marshal of the field, intervened at the critical moment, declaring the ladies of both parties to be fully satisfied with the proofs of love and the feats of valor displayed by their knights. He then commanded the combatants to desist. Thus ended the tournament."

"How wonderful!" sighed Marjorie. "I would I had been present. And your knight was the hero?"

"Of course," replied Peggy with a smile. "I am sure that he would have worsted Captain Watson, had not the Major stepped in. But the banquet was splendid."

"And Captain Cathcart!" reminded Marjorie, with a slight manifestation of instinctive envy.

"Why! He attended me, of course," was the proud response. "Each knight escorted his lady through the triumphal arches erected in honor of the Generals who were present, along the long avenue lined on both sides with the troops and the colors of the army. At the third arch, which was dedicated to General Howe and which bore on its top a huge flying figure of Fame, we entered the great Hall. There refreshments were served and the dancing began. It continued until midnight. The windows were then thrown open and we witnessed the wonderful display of fireworks. And then the supper!

"Gorgeous, of course!" exclaimed Marjorie.

"Gorgeous, indeed!" Peggy repeated – "a great room, with fifty or more pier glasses, draped with green silk and hundreds of varieties of flowers of as many hues and shades. An hundred branches of lights, thousands of tapers, four hundred and thirty covers, and there must have been more than twelve hundred dishes. The attendants were twenty-four black slaves garbed oriental fashion with silver collars and bracelets. And then we danced and danced until dawn, when we were interrupted by the sound of distant cannon."

"And then your knights were called to real war," remarked Marjorie.

"For the moment all thought this to be part of the program, the signal for another great spectacle. Suddenly everything broke into confusion. The officers rushed to their commands. The rest of us betook ourselves as best we could. We came home and went to bed, tired in every bone. Mother is sorry that I attended, for she thought it too gay. But I would not have lost it for the world."

And perhaps her mother was right. For Peggy was but eighteen, the youngest of the Shippen family. The other girls were somewhat older, yet the three were considered the most beautiful débutantes of the city, the youngest, if in anything, the more renowned for grace and manner. Her face was of that plumpness to give it charm, delicate in contour, rich with the freshness of the bloom of youth. Her carriage betrayed breeding and dignity. And all was sweetened by a magnetism and vivacity that charmed all who came within her influence. Still her attitude was the more prepossessing than permanent.

Like her father, she was a Quaker in many of her observances. To that creed she adhered with a rigorous determination. She had so often manifested her political sympathies, which were intensified to an irrational degree as appeared from passionate disclosures, that her father was led to observe that she was more a Tory at heart than General Howe himself.

Her companion, Marjorie Allison, was about her own age, but as intensely American as she was English. Her parents had always lived in Philadelphia, as their parents had before them, coming originally from the Mother country to which they were now opposed in martial strife. The thrill of patriotism for the cause of the infant republic, which throbbed violently within her breast, had been inspired to enthusiasm more by the intense antipathy for the Church of England than for the government itself. This antipathy was kept alive and invigorated by the doleful memory of the privations and adversities endured by her ancestors from the agents of this same government because of their Catholic worship and their heroic efforts to follow their religious convictions.

The sympathies of the Allisons were undivided. They were notorious Whigs, ardent champions of the rights which the new government so strongly asserted, and which they had pledged themselves stoutly to defend; ardent champions of the eternal principles on which the new republic was built. The psychology of the Allisons' allegiance did not differ from that of innumerable other families. Usually, strange to relate, society, while constantly moving forward with eager speed, is just as constantly looking backward with tender regrets. But no regrets were here. Religious persecution leaves no tender memories in its trail. Dissatisfaction with the past is seldom rendered more memorable than by the fanatic attempt to separate the soul from its God.

Marjorie and Peggy had been friends from girlhood. They understood each other very well. Each knew and appreciated the other's peculiarities, her virtues and her foibles, her political propensities and religious convictions. They never discussed their religious differences. They avoided such a clash out of respect for each other's convictions. Not so, however, in matters relating to the form of government. Marjorie was a Whig, an ardent champion of the rights of the Colonists, while her more aristocratic friend was Tory in her sentiments, moderate, it is true, but nevertheless at times much inclined to the extreme. Notwithstanding these differences, their friendship had been constant and they had always shared their joys and sorrows.

The days of the British occupation of the city had been glorious ones for Peggy and her sisters. The love of display and finery which was characteristic of them was satiated by the brilliance and the gayety of the winter season during which the titled British Officers were fêted and entertained extravagantly. None outshone the Shippens in the magnificence of their entertainments. Their house was ever open in hospitality, and more than once it had been whispered about that their resources had reached the point of exhaustion.

At these functions Marjorie found herself a welcome guest. For Peggy took care that her little friend was never overlooked, even if on one occasion a pang of regret sent her to bed with copious tears when the favor for the evening had been bestowed upon her fair guest. Marjorie, however, maintained a mature composure and a marked concern, as was her wont, throughout it all, and Peggy again reassured herself that her misgivings were without foundation. For Marjorie disliked the titled gentry. They were without exception hostile to the faith to which she so steadfastly adhered. She bore with them merely for the pleasure which she derived from the coterie made brilliant by their participation.

And so the winter passed, giving way to lovely, spring, whose gentle zephyrs dispelled the cold, the ice and the snow that had sent the British into the ballrooms for protection, and had afflicted and distressed the patriots at Valley Forge. With the advent of favorable weather, operations began anew; the hopes and the courage of the colonists were now exalted to the highest pitch. The disasters of Long Island and Fort Washington had been offset by the victory at Saratoga. While the British had taken and held the important cities of New York and Philadelphia as well as the town of Newport, still they had lost an army and had gained nothing but the ground on which they were encamped.

Now, at the beginning of the fourth period of the war, the joyful news was heralded far and wide that the government of France had formally acknowledged the independence of the United States and that help was on the way to assist the Colonists in their struggle. At the same time the conciliatory measures of Lord North in Parliament gave indication to the patriots that the British Government was weakening. The joy of the Whigs knew no bounds, and Marjorie was beside herself as she related the glad tidings over and over again. The fourth epoch of the war augured well for the success of the cause.

In all the Colonies there was at this stage of the war no city more important than Philadelphia. Whatever there was among the Colonists of wealth, of comfort, of social refinement, of culture and of courtly manners was here centered. Even the houses were more imposing than elsewhere throughout the country. They were usually well constructed of stone or brick with either thatched or slated roofs. They were supplied with barns bursting with the opulence of the fields. The countryside round about was teeming with fatness. Indeed, in all the colonies no other place was so replete with affluence and comfort.

Nor was it without its gentry, cultured and dignified. Its inhabitants were, for the most part, made up of members of old Quaker families and others faithful to the Church of England and devoted to the political principles of the Mother country, – the proud possessors of wealth and the exemplars of the most dignified deportment. Already were its fair sex renowned abroad as well as at home for their "beauty, grace and intelligence." They moved with all the gayety and charm of court ladies. The wealth and luxury of a capital city were there; for even in the infancy of the republic, Philadelphia had attained a distinction, unique and preëminent. What was more natural, then, than that their allegiance should be divided; the so-called fashionable set adhering to the crown; the common townsfolk, the majority of whom were refugees from an obnoxious autocracy, zealously espousing the colonists' cause, and the middle class, who were comprised of those families holding a more or less neutral position in the war, and who were willing to preserve their estates and possessions, remaining undecided, and in their manner maintaining good offices with both sides throughout the strife.

The British Army took possession of the city, after its victorious encounter on the Brandywine, on the twenty-sixth of September, 1777. Sir William Howe selected for his headquarters the finest house in the city, the mansion which was once the home of Governor Richard Penn, grandson of William Penn. Here General Howe and his staff of officers passed a gay winter. They were much more interested in the amusements, the gayeties, the dissipations carried on in this old Quaker City than in any efforts to capture the army of General Washington.

The infatuate populace, indifferent to the progress of the Revolution, unaffected for the most part by the righteousness of the cause of the Colonists, became enamored of the brilliance and the fashion and the display of the English nobility. They cordially welcomed General Howe and his young officers, electing them the leaders and the favorites in all the social gayeties and amusements of the season. Such was the luxury and dissipation of the British in the city, at dinner parties, cock-fights, amateur theatrical performances, that Dr. Franklin was led to remark in Paris that General Howe had not taken Philadelphia as much as Philadelphia had taken General Howe.

The general plan of campaign for the year 1777 did not include the capture of Philadelphia. Howe had been ordered to march from New York, which he had taken the preceding August, to the vicinity of Albany. There he was to join forces with the army from Canada under General Burgoyne, which was to penetrate northern New York. Why he elected to march against Philadelphia and be obliged to retrace his steps in order to reach Burgoyne was unknown at the time. The total collapse of Burgoyne's expedition at Saratoga and the menace of the American Army under General Washington obliged him to alter his plan and to remain in the vicinity of Philadelphia, which city he made his headquarters for the winter.

In the meantime the army of General Washington, which had been continually harassing the English forces, went into winter quarters in close proximity, at Valley Forge, a bare twenty miles distant, northwest of the city. Here the little army of the Colonists menaced the position of the British while enduring with heroic fortitude the severities of the winter season. Shoeless and shivering, the soldiers prepared these winter quarters of cold huts, rudely constructed; themselves overcoated in torn blankets, with stuffed straw in their boots for want of stockings. Their food was as scarce as their clothing and at one time more than two thousand men were reported unfit for duty because barefoot and otherwise naked. Many a night the men were compelled to remain seated by the fire for want of blankets. Day by day the supply of fuel diminished, and the neighborhood became more destitute of trees and timber.

The morale of the troops seemed to feed on misfortune; but their hopes and courage were suddenly intensified when the news of the Alliance with France reverberated throughout the camp to the booming of cannon and the shouts of the whole army. There was no respite, however. While the enemy was living in luxury and comfort in the gay city, the Continentals under the patience of Washington, and the military genius of Von Steuben, were being rounded into a toughened and well drilled fighting machine, strong in organization and bold in spirit, a worthy match for the rapid and accurate movements for which the better equipped British army was becoming famous.

That Sir William Howe found it easier to loiter in Philadelphia than to play a strategic game against Washington in the depths of an American winter, was due no less to the want of decision which characterized all of his actions than to the stupid mismanagement with which the campaign of 1777 was directed. The British had gained the two most important American cities, New York and Philadelphia, but the entire American army was still in the field. The acquisition of territory was of no military importance while the forces of the enemy remained intact and well organized. Moreover, Burgoyne was left to his fate and at Saratoga an army was lost.

Nor was any advantage to be derived from the possession of the American capital. Washington's position at Valley Forge had held the British in check all winter. And whatever of work the Congress was required to do could as well be done at York as at Philadelphia. As a basis for military operation the city was without value, for it was difficult to defend and hard to supply with foodstuffs. But it was rich, extravagant, fashionable, a "place of crucifying expenses," and its fine houses, good pavements, and regular arrangement of streets, impressed Howe as the most fitting place for the British Army to establish winter quarters. And so they sat down to wait for spring.

"We shall never forget the splendor of it all; it was wonderful!" exclaimed Peggy with a deep sigh.

"A farewell party!" said Marjorie. "Undoubtedly the gallant Britishers outdid themselves. Howe leaves soon, does he not?"

"Yes. Next week."

"Which means that the period of entertaining is about to come to an end."

"I suppose. But wasn't the winter glorious? I shall never forget it."

A smile covered her face, dotting her cheeks with two tiny dimples. She held her hands together over her knees while she sat quite motionless, her eyes looking out into the darkness of the room.

Presently she bethought herself.

"Let us light the tapers!" she announced, jumping up from the sofa.

"It is late," Marjorie remarked, as she, too, prepared to arise. "I must leave for home."

"Stay! It is still early. Soon we shall be obliged to settle into quietude. Dark days are before us."

"Why!" Marjorie exclaimed. "I should think that the future augurs well. I do wish the soldiers would evacuate the city."

"When General Howe leaves, all may as well leave with him."

"When does he leave, did you say?" impatiently asked her true American friend.

"Next week, I understand. The great Mischienza, you know, was arranged in his honor as a farewell celebration."

"General Clinton, I presume, will succeed. He seems the most logical choice."

"Yes. He already has been appointed to the supreme command."

"I hope he decides to evacuate."

"I do not know. Perhaps," was the sole response.

But it already had been decided. Upon the departure of General Howe, instructions were forwarded from the ministry to Sir Henry Clinton, the new Commander-in-chief, to evacuate the city at once. The imminent arrival of the French fleet, together with the increasing menace of the Continental Army at Valley Forge, constituted a grave peril to the isolated army of the British. Hence it was determined that the capital city must be abandoned.