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winterbadgerFlitting around history, we now light on 18th century Philadelphia and a most amazing ball.
Philadelphia in the 1770s was a more graceful and beautiful place than it had been in its early days, when inhabitants lived in holes dug in the riverbank. It boasted a college, the first hospital and medical school in the colonies, one of the largest libraries in America, fine churches and public buildings, and its own volunteer fire company to protect them. It was a diverse city: founded by the Quaker William Penn, it contained among its citizens in the 18th century Mennonites, Catholics, and Jews. It was a major trading city; though far inland up the twisting Delaware River, its port was one of the wealthiest in America.
The city had served as the meeting place of the First (1774) and Second (1775) Continental Congresses, and in 1776 the Second Continental Congress ratified the Declaration of Independence in the city's Pennsylvania State House. But the tides of war washed Congress westward to Lancaster and York, PA, when Philadelphia fell to the British Army in September 1777. Until June of the following year, the city was occupied by the forces of the Crown. And in May of 1778, it played host to perhaps one of the most curious and remarkable events of the war, as the British Army bade farewell to its commander in chief.
Sir William Howe, born in 1729, joined the British Army in 1746 and fought in Flanders during the War of the Austrian Succession. He served in the British Army in North America during the Seven Years War (known here as the French and Indian War) and acquired a reputation as an imaginative and daring officer. He commanded the army's light infantry under General James Wolfe in the latter's campaign to capture Quebec. He see further action in Canada and Cuba. After the war, he was elected to Parliament and took a generally sympathetic line in Britain's disputes with its colonies. He was sent in 1775 to Boston with reinforcements for the garrison there under General Thomas Gage. It was Howe's plan to drive the rebel forces off the Charlestown peninsula that led to the costly British capture of Bunker Hill, and Howe (who commanded the attack in person) apparently suffered a crisis of confidence after that pyrrhic victory.
Taking command of British forces in the colonies when Gage returned to England, Howe captured the city of New York in a series of brilliant battles in the summer of 1776, but he took so tentative an approach to following up his successes that the American army, under George Washington, was able to escape the numerically superior, better trained, and better equipped British and flee across the Hudson to safety. In the autumn of 1776, Howe agreed to join a three-pronged assault the next year into northern New York that would separate New England from the rest of the colonies and crush American forces operating there. Howe was to march north up the Hudson Valley; the other forces would come from Canada, south by way of the Lake Champlain Valley and east down the Mohawk Valley.
But Howe changed his mind and wrote to the British government in London to say he would be attacking Philadelphia in the spring before (perhaps instead of) moving north. Whether this decision was conveyed to the other commanders involved in the northern campaign is not clear, but they went ahead with their plans, and the northern thrust was eventually defeated when those two forces were defeated in detail, most notably at the battles near Saratoga.
Howe's campaign against Philadelphia was itself only a partial success. Following an amphibious movement up the Chesapeake Bay, he captured the city in September but failed to nab the rebel government. A surprise attack in October by Washington's army nearly beat the British. In the new year, the French government declared war on Britain and joined the American cause, in large part because of the success of American arms at Saratoga.
Howe had failed as commander in chief, and he resigned his position and made arrangements to return home. He prepared to hand over command to his subordinate, to Sir Henry Clinton. But before he left, his officers planned a magnificent send-off. As one officer expressed it, "I do not believe there is upon record an instance of a Commander in Chief having so universally endeared himself to those under his command.... That our sentiments might be the more universally and unequivocally known, it was resolved amongst us, that we should give him as splendid an entertainment as the shortness of the time, and our present situation, would allow us."
Drawing on the resources of the glittering (if provincial) society of Philadelphia and a subscription of nearly £3,500 from his brother officers, planners of the farewell party for the popular commander in chief devised a tremendous pseudo-classical fête, rivaling the entertainments of any European court. It was called the Mischianza (an Italian word signifying a medley) to show that "it was made up of a variety of entertainments". Tickets were printed. Pavilions were erected. Triumphal arches were built. A fleet of watercraft was assembled. An army of musicians (civilian and military) were assembled. The army's engineers and artillerists laboured over fireworks. A numbers of fantastical costumes of silk and brocade were sewn.
On the day, a regatta bore Sir William, his brother Richard* (an admiral, and commander of naval forces in America), and various other luminaries down the Delaware River. Three boats filled with musicians led the way, followed by three "divisions" of ships. Each division had a galley, laden with a senior officer and his suite of officers, gentlemen, and ladies, and five boats, with more ladies and gentlemen. Around the whole procession, six more boats kept the other river-going riff-raff at arms' length from the gentility. The whole array proceeded the length of the city's riverfront then paused in midstream. As naval vessels fired a salute, bands played 'God Save the King' and the crowds of spectators on wharves and in rivercraft cheered.
The procession had been intended to proceed further by water, but event planning being the uncertain science it is, by the time the flotilla had been assembled and moved thus far, the tide had turned and the boats could no longer make headway down the river. An improvised landing had to be staged while more salutes rang out. Once the party had assembled onshore and been properly marshaled, they processed through lines of grenadiers and cavalry and escorted by the army's "bands of musick"** to "a square lawn of 150 yards on each side, lined with troops, and properly prepared for the exhibition of a tilt and tournament, according to the customs and ordinances of ancient chivalry". The lawn was bounded by tented stands on two sides and two triumphal arches at the far end, with a large building, erected for the fete, beyond them.
A very fancy joust then took place, with lances, pistols (presumably loaded with blanks), and swordplay (hopefully not too lively) by two bodies of six "knights" and six "squires" each with four "heralds", all selected officers of the army who were divided into the "Knights of the Blended Rose" and the "Knights of the Burning Mountain". Each side had amazing costumes of silk (red and white for the Rose knights, black and orange for the Mountain knights). Each knight had a lady in the stands whose favour he was given and whose honour he proclaimed (these--"the principal young Ladies of the country"--also got wonderful togs, outfits intended to portray Turkish robes and turbans).
After a sufficient amount of mock combat, the knights were separated by the Marshal of the Field, who announced that all the ladies' honour had been thoroughly demonstrated by their knights. The company then processed through one arch (dedicated to Admiral Lord Howe, with all sorts of nautical motifs), through the second arch (dedicated to General Howe, with military ones), into a lovely garden where all sorts of fireworks were waiting for nightfall, up carpeted (!) steps to the banqueting hall. This held several rooms for refreshments and dancing, lit by over a hundred candles augmented by nearly ninety mirrors. Dancing took place until ten, at which point the fireworks were lit: twenty ground works, rockets overhead, balloons, and on the triumphal arches were roman candles, firepots, and illuminations of the motifs.
Following the pyrotechnic display, dinner was served at midnight, when hidden doors were revealed, leading into the rest of the banqueting hall (a huge room 210' by 40' with 22' ceilings). Nearly 800 candles in candelabra and chandeliers provided light, reflected by 56 tall mirrors lining the side walls. Two dozen black slaves in silver jewelry and oriental (again, probably meaning Turkish) robes brought in a succession of 430 dishes to the 1,200 place settings. After the meal, and toasts (to the Royal Family, the armed services, their commanders, the knights and ladies of the Rose and Mountain, and to all the ladies present), the revelers returned to the ballroom and danced until four in the morning.
Truly, I should think, "the most splendid entertainment... ever given by an army to their General"!
The quotations and all the details come from this letter, believed to be written by the chief architect of the ball, Major John Andre.
* Richard, Viscount Howe, later Earl Howe, First Lord of the Admiralty and Vice Admiral of Great Britain. Richard and William had had an older brother, George, a brigadier general who was killed in action during the French and Indian War while leading light infantry in scouting French defenses at Ft Carillion (aka Ft Ticonderoga).
** While each regiment had "combat musicians" (fifers and drummers in the infantry, trumpeters and drummers in the cavalry), most also had a band of music. This body comprised brass players and woodwinds (usually oboes--called "haut bois" or "hoeboys"--clarinets, and bassoons) who were private contractors hired by the colonel of the regiment and dressed in whatever colourful uniforms he chose to provide. Their job was not to signal orders (the role of the fifes, drums, and trumpeters) but to amuse and entertain and to show off the wealth of the regiment's owner.
Philadelphia in the 1770s was a more graceful and beautiful place than it had been in its early days, when inhabitants lived in holes dug in the riverbank. It boasted a college, the first hospital and medical school in the colonies, one of the largest libraries in America, fine churches and public buildings, and its own volunteer fire company to protect them. It was a diverse city: founded by the Quaker William Penn, it contained among its citizens in the 18th century Mennonites, Catholics, and Jews. It was a major trading city; though far inland up the twisting Delaware River, its port was one of the wealthiest in America.
The city had served as the meeting place of the First (1774) and Second (1775) Continental Congresses, and in 1776 the Second Continental Congress ratified the Declaration of Independence in the city's Pennsylvania State House. But the tides of war washed Congress westward to Lancaster and York, PA, when Philadelphia fell to the British Army in September 1777. Until June of the following year, the city was occupied by the forces of the Crown. And in May of 1778, it played host to perhaps one of the most curious and remarkable events of the war, as the British Army bade farewell to its commander in chief.
Sir William Howe, born in 1729, joined the British Army in 1746 and fought in Flanders during the War of the Austrian Succession. He served in the British Army in North America during the Seven Years War (known here as the French and Indian War) and acquired a reputation as an imaginative and daring officer. He commanded the army's light infantry under General James Wolfe in the latter's campaign to capture Quebec. He see further action in Canada and Cuba. After the war, he was elected to Parliament and took a generally sympathetic line in Britain's disputes with its colonies. He was sent in 1775 to Boston with reinforcements for the garrison there under General Thomas Gage. It was Howe's plan to drive the rebel forces off the Charlestown peninsula that led to the costly British capture of Bunker Hill, and Howe (who commanded the attack in person) apparently suffered a crisis of confidence after that pyrrhic victory.
Taking command of British forces in the colonies when Gage returned to England, Howe captured the city of New York in a series of brilliant battles in the summer of 1776, but he took so tentative an approach to following up his successes that the American army, under George Washington, was able to escape the numerically superior, better trained, and better equipped British and flee across the Hudson to safety. In the autumn of 1776, Howe agreed to join a three-pronged assault the next year into northern New York that would separate New England from the rest of the colonies and crush American forces operating there. Howe was to march north up the Hudson Valley; the other forces would come from Canada, south by way of the Lake Champlain Valley and east down the Mohawk Valley.
But Howe changed his mind and wrote to the British government in London to say he would be attacking Philadelphia in the spring before (perhaps instead of) moving north. Whether this decision was conveyed to the other commanders involved in the northern campaign is not clear, but they went ahead with their plans, and the northern thrust was eventually defeated when those two forces were defeated in detail, most notably at the battles near Saratoga.
Howe's campaign against Philadelphia was itself only a partial success. Following an amphibious movement up the Chesapeake Bay, he captured the city in September but failed to nab the rebel government. A surprise attack in October by Washington's army nearly beat the British. In the new year, the French government declared war on Britain and joined the American cause, in large part because of the success of American arms at Saratoga.
Howe had failed as commander in chief, and he resigned his position and made arrangements to return home. He prepared to hand over command to his subordinate, to Sir Henry Clinton. But before he left, his officers planned a magnificent send-off. As one officer expressed it, "I do not believe there is upon record an instance of a Commander in Chief having so universally endeared himself to those under his command.... That our sentiments might be the more universally and unequivocally known, it was resolved amongst us, that we should give him as splendid an entertainment as the shortness of the time, and our present situation, would allow us."
Drawing on the resources of the glittering (if provincial) society of Philadelphia and a subscription of nearly £3,500 from his brother officers, planners of the farewell party for the popular commander in chief devised a tremendous pseudo-classical fête, rivaling the entertainments of any European court. It was called the Mischianza (an Italian word signifying a medley) to show that "it was made up of a variety of entertainments". Tickets were printed. Pavilions were erected. Triumphal arches were built. A fleet of watercraft was assembled. An army of musicians (civilian and military) were assembled. The army's engineers and artillerists laboured over fireworks. A numbers of fantastical costumes of silk and brocade were sewn.
On the day, a regatta bore Sir William, his brother Richard* (an admiral, and commander of naval forces in America), and various other luminaries down the Delaware River. Three boats filled with musicians led the way, followed by three "divisions" of ships. Each division had a galley, laden with a senior officer and his suite of officers, gentlemen, and ladies, and five boats, with more ladies and gentlemen. Around the whole procession, six more boats kept the other river-going riff-raff at arms' length from the gentility. The whole array proceeded the length of the city's riverfront then paused in midstream. As naval vessels fired a salute, bands played 'God Save the King' and the crowds of spectators on wharves and in rivercraft cheered.
The procession had been intended to proceed further by water, but event planning being the uncertain science it is, by the time the flotilla had been assembled and moved thus far, the tide had turned and the boats could no longer make headway down the river. An improvised landing had to be staged while more salutes rang out. Once the party had assembled onshore and been properly marshaled, they processed through lines of grenadiers and cavalry and escorted by the army's "bands of musick"** to "a square lawn of 150 yards on each side, lined with troops, and properly prepared for the exhibition of a tilt and tournament, according to the customs and ordinances of ancient chivalry". The lawn was bounded by tented stands on two sides and two triumphal arches at the far end, with a large building, erected for the fete, beyond them.
A very fancy joust then took place, with lances, pistols (presumably loaded with blanks), and swordplay (hopefully not too lively) by two bodies of six "knights" and six "squires" each with four "heralds", all selected officers of the army who were divided into the "Knights of the Blended Rose" and the "Knights of the Burning Mountain". Each side had amazing costumes of silk (red and white for the Rose knights, black and orange for the Mountain knights). Each knight had a lady in the stands whose favour he was given and whose honour he proclaimed (these--"the principal young Ladies of the country"--also got wonderful togs, outfits intended to portray Turkish robes and turbans).
After a sufficient amount of mock combat, the knights were separated by the Marshal of the Field, who announced that all the ladies' honour had been thoroughly demonstrated by their knights. The company then processed through one arch (dedicated to Admiral Lord Howe, with all sorts of nautical motifs), through the second arch (dedicated to General Howe, with military ones), into a lovely garden where all sorts of fireworks were waiting for nightfall, up carpeted (!) steps to the banqueting hall. This held several rooms for refreshments and dancing, lit by over a hundred candles augmented by nearly ninety mirrors. Dancing took place until ten, at which point the fireworks were lit: twenty ground works, rockets overhead, balloons, and on the triumphal arches were roman candles, firepots, and illuminations of the motifs.
Following the pyrotechnic display, dinner was served at midnight, when hidden doors were revealed, leading into the rest of the banqueting hall (a huge room 210' by 40' with 22' ceilings). Nearly 800 candles in candelabra and chandeliers provided light, reflected by 56 tall mirrors lining the side walls. Two dozen black slaves in silver jewelry and oriental (again, probably meaning Turkish) robes brought in a succession of 430 dishes to the 1,200 place settings. After the meal, and toasts (to the Royal Family, the armed services, their commanders, the knights and ladies of the Rose and Mountain, and to all the ladies present), the revelers returned to the ballroom and danced until four in the morning.
Truly, I should think, "the most splendid entertainment... ever given by an army to their General"!
The quotations and all the details come from this letter, believed to be written by the chief architect of the ball, Major John Andre.
* Richard, Viscount Howe, later Earl Howe, First Lord of the Admiralty and Vice Admiral of Great Britain. Richard and William had had an older brother, George, a brigadier general who was killed in action during the French and Indian War while leading light infantry in scouting French defenses at Ft Carillion (aka Ft Ticonderoga).
** While each regiment had "combat musicians" (fifers and drummers in the infantry, trumpeters and drummers in the cavalry), most also had a band of music. This body comprised brass players and woodwinds (usually oboes--called "haut bois" or "hoeboys"--clarinets, and bassoons) who were private contractors hired by the colonel of the regiment and dressed in whatever colourful uniforms he chose to provide. Their job was not to signal orders (the role of the fifes, drums, and trumpeters) but to amuse and entertain and to show off the wealth of the regiment's owner.
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Date: 2009-12-11 03:51 am (UTC)I've read about it -- though not in this much detail -- in Bernard Cornwell's book Redcoat.