The city was not under attack; rather, “we have had a Day of Rejoycing here to Celebrate the Aniversary of our Independence,” Col. David Grier of the 7th Pennsylvania Regiment reported to Gen. Anthony Wayne. “All the ships of war &c. were lined from Opposite to the Coffee House” at Market Street and “down the River.”2 The troops were from the 4th Georgia Battalion, “a corps of British deserters, taken into the service of the continent by the State of Georgia.” At Smith's City Tavern on the corner of 2nd and Walnut, they were “drawn up before the door,” where they “filled up the intervals with feux de joie,” or “joyful firings.”3 This type of running gunfire was done by armies for celebrations and was quite impressive as it went from one end of the line to the other.
Describing Philadelphia's first Fourth of July festivities, John Adams wrote, “The wharves and shores, were lined with a vast concourse of people, all shouting and huzzaing, in a manner which gave great joy to every friend to this country, and the utmost terror and dismay to every lurking tory.” The city commemorated independence in fine style, though almost as an afterthought, Adams told his daughter Nabby. “The thought of taking any notice of this day, was not conceived, until the second of this month,” John noted, “and it was not mentioned until the third.”4
Congress marked the occasion by adjourning early and attending a series of special events, beginning with a review of the armed schooners and row galleys that constituted the Pennsylvania Navy. Several of the ships were “beautifully dressed in the colours of all nations, displayed about upon the masts, yards, and rigging.” At 1 P.M., the sailors “were all ordered aloft, and arranged upon the tops, yards, and shrowds, making a striking appearance—of companies of men drawn up in order, in the air.”5
As chairman of the Marine Committee in Congress, Adams, together with President John Hancock and other dignitaries, went on board the largest ship, the new thirty-gun Continental frigate Delaware, where they were received with a salute of thirteen cannons. The other war vessels fired salutes in reply, and “a great Expenditure of Liquor, Powder &c. took up the Day.”6
“It was too late to have a sermon, as everyone wished,” according to Adams, “so this must be deferred another year.”7 Instead, at 3 P.M., the members of Congress, the Pennsylvania Supreme Executive Council, the general officers in town, and city officials assembled at City Tavern for a banquet and the drinking of toasts.
Dinner music for the U.S. government's first Independence Day celebration was provided by a professional band that included two sets of fathers and sons—the Hatteroths, Sam and Will, and the Saechtlings, John Sr. and John Jr.—along with Emmanuel Grau, John Nickell, Philip Pfeil, John Sondermann, and John George Wickhard. They were members of the latest and most popular musical group in the city, the Hessian Band, nine German oboists captured at Trenton the previous December.8 Adams described being “very agreeably entertained with excellent company, good cheer, fine music from the band of Hessians taken at Trenton, and continual volleys between every toast, from a company of soldiers drawn up in Second-street before the city tavern, where we dined.”
There were thirteen toasts in all. “The toasts were in honour of our country, and the heroes who have fallen in their pious efforts to defend her.”9 The soft, harmonious droning of “hautboys,” or oboes, wafted through the tavern rooms between the toasts and firings, and Congressman Thomas Burke of North Carolina noted that the Hessian musicians “performed very delightfully, the pleasure being not a little heightened by the reflection that they were hired by the British Court for purposes very different from those to which they were applied.”10
After dinner, a parade was held on Second Street, consisting of two troops of Maryland Light Horse, a train of artillery, and about 1,000 North Carolina infantry who were en route to join Washington's army in New Jersey. With drums throbbing and fifes lilting, “the troops paraded thro’ the streets with great pomp,” Sarah Logan Fisher wrote, “tho’ many of them were barefoot & looked very unhealthy.”11 The soldiers marched to their camp in “Governor Penn's Woods” near the Common, an open area on the western outskirts of town, where they went through maneuvers and fired volley after volley, thirteen in all.
It had been a splendid day, with temperatures in the mid-seventies, a relief from the usual summer steambath of July in Philadelphia. Earlier in the week, temperatures plunged to the low sixties as a Nor'easter pelted the area with rain and chilly winds.12 “A long, cold, raw northeast Storm has chilled our Blood, for two days past,” John Adams wrote on July 1. “It is unusual, to have a Storm from that Point, in June and July. It is an Omen no doubt.” He asked Abigail, “Pray what can it mean? I have so little Ingenuity, at interpreting the Auspices, that I am unable to say whether it bodes Evil to Howe, or to Us.”13
Unusual natural phenomena were frequent in 1777, some of them quite dramatic. One had occurred a few weeks earlier on June 9, when “Severe Thunder Struck the steeple of Christ Church,” the tallest structure in the city. Gracing the point of the spire was a gilded crown, symbol of royal authority over this Anglican parish. The lightning bolt “carried away some part of the Ornaments of the Crown on the top of the rods.”14 Meteors, northern lights, and a series of massive Atlantic storms were among the unsettled weather conditions that year, along with several very rare earthquake tremors, interpreted by some as omens reflecting the state of the country.
The evening of the Fourth was spectacular, filled with ringing bells and pageantry. Thirteen rockets opened a fireworks show that played across a starry, moonless sky above the Common, while bonfires blazed in the streets and candles glowed from thousands of windows in a “Grand Illumination.” Adams strolled through the city and was moved to write, “I think it was the most splendid illumination I ever saw; a few surly houses were dark; but the lights were very universal. Considering the lateness of the design and the suddenness of the execution, I was amazed at the universal joy and alacrity that was discovered, and at the brilliancy and splendour of every part of this joyful exhibition. I had forgot the ringing of bells all day and evening.” He smugly concluded, “Had General Howe been here in disguise, or his master, this show would have given them the heart-ache.”15
Not everyone was as happy with the occasion, even among the patriots. William Williams, a dour, humorless congressman from Connecticut who earlier in life had trained for the ministry as a Congregationalist pastor, was appalled by the conspicuous consumption of liquor and hundreds of pounds of gunpowder. His wife, Mary, was the daughter of Connecticut governor Jonathan Trumbull and sister of artist John Trumbull. “Yesterday was in my opinion poorly spent in celebrating the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence,” Williams told his father-in-law on July 5, “but to avoid singularity & Reflection upon my dear Colony, I thot it my Duty to attend the public Entertainment.” The congressman's joyless disposition was not improved by a painful rheumatic swelling in his right arm. He noted peevishly, “Candles thro the City, good part of the night, I suppose.”16
Rev. Henry Muhlenberg, father of Brig. Gen. Peter Muhlenberg of Virginia and the senior Lutheran churchman in America, was also outraged by the festivities. “The Philadelphians observed the day with special solemnity according to the advanced taste and sensuous magnificence,” he commented sourly several weeks later. “The air was filled and shaken by artificial fireworks and thunderclaps. Empty skins were bloated with food and drinks of health. Houses with their artificial illumination outshone the moon and stars,” a slight hyperbole, for a new moon began on the evening of the Fourth. No matter; like Williams, Muhlenberg was disturbed by the giddy, triumphant tone of the celebration and the lavish waste, which in the view of both tempted divine retribution. “In connection with all this it occurred to me,” Muhlenberg wrote, along more secular lines, “in the words of the common saying, ‘The birds that sing early are easily caught by the cats.’”17
Political neutrals made up a large portion of the city's population, as did Loyalists. Outspoken Tories had been few
but were silenced or gone; most others kept a low profile and bided their time. Nicholas Cresswell, who had met several local Loyalists as he passed through Philadelphia the previous September, wrote in his journal, “Great numbers—I believe half the people in town—are Sgnik Sdneirf [“King's Friends” spelled backward].”18 Active Whigs were a loud minority, as were “the violent men,” the overzealous who sometimes took matters into their own hands and used violence or threats or committed vandalism in the name of liberty, more often than not for the sheer thrill of hell-raising.
Concerns about violence prompted the Pennsylvania Supreme Executive Council to advise the city magistrates “to exert themselves in preventing any kind of Riot happening in the City this Evening.” The town major, Lewis Nicola, was to parade guards of militiamen during the Illumination from 8 until 11 P.M. to prevent disturbances, and “a Bellman be sent round to give notice to the inhabitants, that the Council do expressly order all the lights…be extinguished at Eleven O'Clock.” Further, “the Wardens are requested to order the Watchmen to attend at their Stands at 8 O'Clock this Evening, in order to assist in preventing any riots which may otherwise happen.”19
Despite these precautions, the crash and tinkle of shattering glass punctuated the night's festivities as darkened windows all over town were smashed, highlighting the unpleasant side of the political situation. “In the Evening the whole City (Except Torry Houses whose Windows Paid for their Obstenacy) were Iluminated with Lights at every Window,” Colonel Grier told General Wayne.20 Congressman Williams said dryly, “I conclude much Tory unilluminated Glass will want replacing.”21
Quakers in that era did not participate in such public celebrations as a matter of religious scruple against ceremonies and outward show, but their unlighted windows were targeted anyway, since they were generally suspected of being Loyalists. On Front Street between Arch and Race, Elizabeth Drinker, wife of prominent merchant and Quaker leader Henry Drinker, wrote in her diary, “July 4—the Town Illuminated and a great number of Windows Broke on the Anniversary of Independence and Freedom.”22 Sarah Logan Fisher, a Loyalist who lived on Second Street below Walnut, a few doors from the City Tavern, and whose husband, Thomas, was also a wealthy Quaker merchant, enumerated: “We had 15 broken, N[icholas] Waln 14, T[homas] Wharton a good many more, and Uncle [James] Logan had 50 cracked & broken, & all this for joy of having gained our liberty.”23
At his hilltop parsonage in Trappe, twenty-five miles to the northwest, Reverend Muhlenberg wrote in his diary on July 4, “News that the British troops have left Amboy, too, and are assembling on Staaten Island, near New York, where they have their sea power at hand.” The German pastor mused with some apprehension, “Where the storm will turn now, no one knows as yet.” Quoting from the Book of Revelation, he added prophetically, “Woe to the inhabitants over whom the vials of wrath are poured out!”24
At “Camp in Staten Island” that same day, Sir George Osborn fulfilled his duty as muster master general of the foreign troops by writing a report to Lord George Germain, updating him on the status of the Hessian forces and command structure. Two thousand German reinforcements had recently arrived, and major changes occurred in Hessian leadership. In addition to the imminent departure of General von Heister, several other high-ranking officers were going home, mainly for health reasons. “Lt. General de Heister proposes returning to Europe by the first Kings Ship,” Osborn reported. “He carrys with him Colonel Block, & I believe Major General Mirbach, Who are both so ill that they are totally unfit for his Majesty's Service.”25
Word of this reached Congress via Col. Samuel Miles, a Pennsylvania officer taken prisoner at the Battle of Long Island a year before and who, together with Capt. Alexander Graydon, was sent home on parole. “Mr. Howes Projects are all deranged,” a delighted John Adams told Abigail. “His Army has gone round the Circle and is now encamped on the very spot where he was a Year ago.” He crowed, “The Spirits of the Tories are sunk to a great Degree, and those of the Army, too. The Hessians are disgusted, and their General De Heister gone home, in a Miff.”26
Capt. Richard Fitzpatrick of the Guards was also disgusted—thoroughly disgusted—with the state of affairs. On July 5, he told his brother about the general mood of the British officers and noted that even his optimistic messmates, Sir George Osborn and Sir John Wrottesley, were somewhat discouraged by the recent maneuvers. “We are fast preparing to Embark from this place, after a very inauspicious opening of the campaign,” Fitzpatrick grumbled. “[Lord] Chewton had a horse wounded under him; & got a fall, but he was not much hurt; he is most thoroughly sick of this War, as indeed is almost every body else, of which all people now acknowledge the impracticability, except Sr. G. Osborne & our wise Cousin Sr. John, & even they begin to despond since our retreat from the Jerseys.”27
Not so, according to Osborn. “You will hear from all who return from America that no one can be in better health and spirits than I am,” Sir George told his brother John, the British minister to Saxony, stationed in Dresden. “No person can be more zealous in the cause, few have been more sanguine, and that keeps my thoughts and spirits always at work; Capt. Fitzpatrick, who is one of my Lieutenants, Sir John Wrottesley and I live together.”28
Fitzpatrick's gloomy outlook no doubt provided a great source of merriment and needling from such bon vivants as Osborn and Wrottesley, for, jaundiced as he was over the general state of affairs, the Whig captain found himself somewhat amused by the antics of his friends. “The absurdity of these two Gentlemen is really not unentertaining, they are so credulous that they bite at every report that is raised, though I believe they themselves are the authors of many of them. But this country is fruitful to an astonishing degree in the producing of Lies, which they both swallow with the greatest Eagerness.” His pessimism, however, was unabated as he wrote bitterly, “I need not tell you how much I wish to quit a scene like this, knowing my sentiments, as you do, upon these matters, can you conceive a situation more unpleasant or more disgusting.”29
Col. Stephen Kemble, Howe's deputy adjutant general, wrote in his journal on July 4, “Find from the general tenor of Officers Conversation that they are not well pleased with Affairs, but they often speak without thought.” Defending his commander, he added, “The General is the best judge of his own Actions.”30
Preparations for a major voyage were well under way, though its destination was anybody's guess: the Delaware River; up the Hudson, also called the North River; or perhaps somewhere in New England. “The Preparations which have been made will answer either for the North River or the Delawar,” General Grant had written to London nearly a month earlier. “Washington I believe has not been able to discover, with any degree of certainty which Move is to be made, but suspects Philedelphia as the greater Object.” He explained to General Harvey, “Possession of that place would please the Merchants at Home, cure Lord North's Fever, turn the doubtfull Scale of Foreign Politicks, & probably influence the Councils of other European Powers—for every Body has heard of Philedelphia and no body ever thought of North River—High Lands—Esopus—Kinderhook & Albany.”31
Opposite the mouth of New York Harbor, Gen. David Forman of the New Jersey Militia was stationed at the Highlands of Navesink (or Neversink) near Sandy Hook, a spit of land on the south side of Raritan Bay, with a full view of the Staten Island shore from the Narrows west to Perth Amboy. Perched at the tip of the Hook a mile or so from the Highlands was a magnificent stone lighthouse, octagonal in shape and nearly 100 feet tall, topped by a seven-foot iron beacon with a copper roof. Built a dozen years earlier by New York merchants and illuminated by “48 oil blazes,” brass whale-oil lamps, the beacon had had some of its lamps removed by patriot militia in 1776 to confuse British shipping.32 It was now occupied by “provincials,” Loyalist militia posted there to keep the light functioning and who also sent raiding parties into Monmouth County. Forman was stationed in this vicinity to curb the raids and send Washington intelligence on ship movements.
&n
bsp; From a hill near the Hook, Forman could see the comings and goings of British ships, well over 200 of them, in and out of the Narrows and the Raritan River. He reported to Washington on July 6, “The Ships from Amboy and Prince's Bay are gone up to New York. Yet from Some Circumstances I am led to believe they meditate an Expedition to the westward by Water—They have a Number of Brigs, Schooners, and Sloops, prepared for taking Horses on board.” The details of the preparations alerted Forman to their possible destination: “Their Stalls are all Cover'd and the Sides lined with Sheepskins with the Wool on to prevent the Horses Chafing—they would not make Use of Such precautions if they Intended up the North or East River.”
The militia general also included the written testimony of two deserters: Bertrand Detchevery, of the British hospital ship Dutton, and George West, a Loyalist. From Detchevery, Forman learned, “The Hospital Ships are filled with Sick, that the present reigning Disease amongst them is the Bloody Flux [dysentery]—That the Troops in General appear much dejected.” The deserter also relayed, “The Common report Amongst the Sailors and Soldiers is that the Fleet is a going to [the] Delaware.” George West revealed to Forman, “There was for Several Nights a very hot Press in the City of New York for Seamen, to man the British Fleet…that the press Gangs [were] not being Able to Collect a Sufficient Number of Men to Answer their purpose.” He, too, noticed, “A General Gloom Appears on the Faces of all the Inhabitants.”33
The Philadelphia Campaign Page 9
