SWEET Perth Town, as the
early proprietors of East Jersey
used to write of their capital in
documents now musty, still
holds on its venerable streets
many old houses worthy of
notice. Perhaps the most interesting to the stranger who
visits this slumbering city, is the Palace erected by the
Lord Proprietors for His Excellency William Franklin,
captain-general and governor-in-chief of the Province of
New Jersey. This was begun in 1764, and was first
occupied by this brilliant son of one of America's greatest
men, Benjamin Franklin, in 1774.
It was fitting that the last of New Jersey's royal governors should be the most royal of all in the matter of
lavish expenditure. During his brief occupancy of the
Palace, before the storm of the Revolution burst on his
startled ears, he exceeded all his predecessors in the
grandeur of his entertainments, --the delight of the
Royalist aristocracy, which left Perth Amboy in almost
a body after the war.
Gazing at this massive pile; a true memory of the
Georges, -- situated on its commanding height, from which
can be seen a glorious stretch of woodland and the smooth
flowing waters of the Raritan entering the Arthur Kull
Sound, where the notorious Captain Kidd once sailed his
black-flagged galley, we are entranced by the charm of
long-dead yesterdays, and our minds grow retrospective
as we wander back in the years to the Perth Amboy of
William Franklin's day.
In the year 1763 the young governor, then in his
thirtieth year, "a handsome and witty specimen of manhood,"as one of his friends has pictured him, reached
the city from New Brunswick one cold February day,
escorted by the Middlesex troop of horse and some of
the Perth Amboy gentry in sleighs.
The New York Gazette chronicles that he took pos-
session of the government "in the usual form,"the
ceremony being conducted "with as much decency and
good decorum as the season could possibly permit of."It
is recorded that he immediately hired one of the best
houses in town, at an annual rental of sixty pounds, and
there he lived some time. He is said to have mourned
over the fact that Perth Amboy was so far from Phila-
delphia, as the long distance cut off intercourse with
many of his intimates. After weighing the matter, he de-
cided to remove to Burlington, where he resided perma-
nently until 1774, when he came back to Amboy to
live in the Palace which the generous proprietors had
built for him. (Until Governor Franklin's arrival it was occupied by Chief Justice
Smyth.)
During Governor Franklin's first residence in the city
there are traditions that many of the most blue-blooded
of the gentry were anything but cordial to him, there
having been much ill feeling over his appointment. It
is said that he was openly flouted in public and at the
assemblies, and the tale of his illegitimate birth was often
whispered behind his back. But when he arrived at the
governor's Palace, almost ten years later, everything was
changed. Everywhere he was greeted with open arms
and friendly demonstrations, for the Tory city felt secure
in having a ruler who was so loyal in his allegiance to
his king, and their attentions to the governor made those
last months of British supremacy in America among the
most brilliant in the social history of old Amboy.
Those were the days of pomp and elegant ceremony. A
few years ago in the attics of many old residences there
were great silk-lined chests and iron-clamped trunks of
uncertain age, garnished with grotesque cupids, roses, and
what-nots, since gone to antique-hunters, whose moth-eaten contents of eighteenth-century finery could have
told us many an interesting tale if they were gifted with
the power of speech. What antiquarian would not
have enjoyed hearing of the sylvan revels at "Love
Grove, "that portion of Amboy Point which the proprietors described as being "covered with grass growing
luxuriantly, the forest trees as distributed in groups, diversifying the landscape with light and shade, and all
nature wearing the fresh aspect of a new creation."
There the picturesque governor and his court, dressed
like a group of old Dresden figures, would come to watch
the frolics of the populace, while the wind chanted low
songs among the great tree-tops, and twilight softly stained
the water. Then the theatrical performances in the town
hall or on the lawn of the Palace, the dances and card-parties; with slow-moving minuets and many formalities. Almost uncanny the brocade and silken gowns
feel if lifted from their tombs of must, flavored with
forgotten India scents and long dead flowers. Each
could tell us a story no doubt. One may have seen
the fair dame old mother gossip says tried to steal the
heart of the governor away from his good lady.
Another may have been present at one of the dinner-parties at the Palace to which the guests were
bidden on little slips of paper* three inches long and
four inches wide. And still another may have been
worn solely to charm the governor's blue eyes, which
looked ever kindly on the fair sex. But it seems almost
a sacrilege to dream over them. The hands that put
them together have been folded these hundred years, and
the ones that wore them are not even memories. (One of Governor Franklin's dinner invitations is in the possession
of the New Jersey Historical Society, at Newark. It is thought to be a
Burlington invitation. It reads:
"The Governor and Mrs. Franklin present their compliments to
Mrs. and Miss Campbell, and Desire the Pleasure of their Company to
Dinner To-morrow, Friday morning.")
To the Palace, shortly after his return from abroad, in
1775, Benjamin Franklin, then the great statesman and
scientist, journeyed to persuade his son to withdraw from
the royal cause. Though we do not approve of the
son's course, we cannot help admiring the fidelity shown
under the battery of such a master of eloquence, for
he declared he would rise or fall by the British government in America. His father threatened, stormed,
and expostulated with him to no purpose; and failing
to convince him of the impropriety of his conduct,
left him a saddened man. He grieved continually over
his failure to show his son the error of his ways, and
later wrote in a letter to a friend the saddest words a
father could pen, --"I am deserted by my only son."
In the first days of the following year a letter written
by the governor to the Earl of Dartmouth, declaring
that he could not speak confidentially to his subordinates
on government affairs, was intercepted by Lord Stirling,
and led to the adoption of measures by that officer to
prevent his chief's escape, although history gives no
evidence of his having formed such an intention. He
was virtually placed under arrest, but through the solicitation of the chief justice of the Province was per-
suaded to give his parole, and for some months continued
to occupy the Palace in Perth Amboy and exercise
nominally the duties of his station. Later, having received advices from the mother-country which he thought
warranted the immediate attention of the assembly, he
issued a proclamation convening that body, which greatly
excited Congress, and led to the seizure of his person
shortly afterwards. Tradition asserts that he was made a
prisoner in one of the upper-story rooms of his Palace
by a detachment of militia commanded by Major Deale,
who had him led off to Burlington, "tearing him from
wife and family,"as he wrote in a highly indignant letter
to the assembly, in which he also "thanked God for
spirit enough to face the danger."
When the governor's coach and guard had disappeared
down the road, Mrs. Franklin started her women to
packing the contents of the great rooms; and later, when
the British were in possession of New York, most of
her effects were safely shipped to that place.
After the poor lady and her servants had left Perth
Amboy, where she had spent the first and last years of
her married life, the Palace became the head-quarters for
any British general happening to be in the vicinity.
On its wide lawns, where the governor had given his
garden-parties to the aristocracy, detachments of regiments, graceful grenadiers, stalwart Hessians, and Highlanders in native costume constantly paraded.
Shortly after the war its interior was destroyed by fire,
and it was sold to John Rattoone, who restored and
enlarged it. Early in the new century it was purchased
by a syndicate, which added a wing to the south side of
the building and established a hotel under the name of
the Brighton House. For a few years it was much frequented by the wealth and fashion of the country, but it
lost its popularity at the beginning of the War of 1812.
Joseph Bonaparte at one time cast a favorable eye on it
for his American home, and spent several days at Commodore Lewis's negotiating for its purchase, where he
left a substantial present in the shape of a crown and
necklace of pearls and topazes for the family's kindness.
He could not secure the house and lands of the Paterson
family, then owned by Andrew Bell,* which shut off
his view of the river, and he is said to have left Perth
Amboy for Trenton in one of his Gallic rages over
what he deemed Mr. Bell's unkindness in refusing to
part with his home and lands.
(Mrs. Andrew Bell is remembered by several of the long residents
of Perth Amboy. In the latter part of her life she became an invalid,
and rarely left her curtained bed, which stood in one of the lower rooms of the present beautiful Paterson mansion. Every child in Perth Amboy
of her day knew her "white almond jar,"which her black maid was
always commanded to get out to regale her little visitors.)
In later years the house and large estates came into
the possession of Matthias Bruen, whose ghost, according
to the tale of one of his superstitious decendants, used to
haunt the great Palace made famous by so much good
company. Promptly at twelve o'clock the rumbling
wheels of a coach would be heard coming up the driveway, the sycamore-trees would sway and moan, the dogs
would bay, the doors throughout each floor would creak,
and the heavy hall one fly open to welcome its ghostly
master. This phantom gentleman in life is said never
to have carried a penny on his person, and always made
payment in checks, even when purchasing a "bunch of
bass or pickerel"from the fish-venders of old Amboy.
It was inherited by Dr. Alexander M. Bruen, who
gave it to the Board of Relief of the Presbyterian Church
in 1883. For fifty years it is to be the home of disabled
Presbyterian clergymen and their families, and after that
can be disposed of by the board. Although it has lost
much of its grand appearance, it is still a palace, and to
the travelled lovers of old Perth Town one of the most
interesting in the world.
