THE LAND OF MANY FLAGS
When Paul Revere galloped through the villages of Middlesex, calling
"for the country folk to be up and to arm," there was not much spare
time for collecting flags, and probably when
"The farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard wall,"--
they did not trouble themselves to flourish a flag before they shot.
Yet, if we may trust a family tradition, at least one flag waved over
the plucky farmers. It seems that for a long while one member or another
of the Page family of Bedford had been accustomed to carrying the colors
of the militia, and therefore when the alarm was given and Nathaniel
Page started for Concord, it was as natural for him to seize his flag as
his gun. Moreover, this story has the bunting to back it up, for the
Bedford flag remained in the Page family until presented to the town a
century after the close of the war. It is rather a pity that it did not
come a little sooner, for an old lady of Page descent confessed that in
her giddy girlhood she had irreverently ripped off the silver fringe to
make trimming for her ball dress.
The Revolution was fairly on, and two months later, the battle of
Bunker Hill was fought. Possibly the colonists thought of spades
rather than standards when they were throwing up the fortifications,
and yet I fancy that to these flag-loving fighters a battle without a
banner would have seemed like an undignified riot. Some writers say
positively that no flag was to be seen--rather a difficult statement
to prove. The daughter of one of the soldiers declared that her father
helped hoist the standard known as the "New England Flag." "He called
it a 'noble flag,'" she said. "It was blue with the red cross of St.
George in a white corner, and in one section was a pine tree." The
artist Trumbull, who painted the picture of this battle now in the
Capitol at Washington, made the flag red instead of blue, but both
were familiar colonial flags, and there is no reason why both should
not have waved over the famous hill. Tradition says that one flag bore
the motto, "Come if you dare." General Gage is said to have had
difficulty in reading it, but maybe that was because of its audacity.
Some verses written soon after the battle say that
"Columbia's troops are seen in dread array,
And waving streamers in the air display";--
but, unluckily, the poet forgot to mention the color of those "waving
streamers." In Savannah, after the battle, but before any news of it
could have arrived, the independent Georgians hoisted a Union flag and
suggestively placed two pieces of artillery directly under it. New York
chose a white flag with a black beaver thereon. Rhode Island had also a
white flag, but with a blue anchor instead of a beaver, and a blue
canton with thirteen white stars. Her motto was "Hope." Connecticut
meant that there should be no mistake in the whereabouts of her
regiments, for she gave them flags of solid color: to the first, yellow;
the second, blue; the third, scarlet; and so on with crimson, white,
azure, another shade of blue, and orange. For a motto Connecticut chose
"Qui transtulit sustinet"; that is, "He who brought us here sustains
us." Massachusetts chose for her motto "An Appeal to Heaven." Charleston
had a blue flag with a white crescent in the upper corner next to the
staff and inscribed upon her banner the daring words, "Liberty or
Death." Later she adopted a rattlesnake flag. Her troops wore blue and
had silver crescents on the front of their caps, inscribed with the same
motto. It is small wonder that timid folk were alarmed and whispered to
one another, "That is going too far; it looks like a declaration of
war." This blue and silver flag was planned by Colonel Moultrie. When
Fort Moultrie--which received this name because of his brave
defense--was shelled the following year, the anxious folk in the town
watched with troubled faces, for it was doubtful whether the little fort
with its scant supply of ammunition could sustain the attack. Suddenly
the crescent flag fell from its staff. A groan ran through the
crowd--Colonel Moultrie had struck his flag! "Forward!" cried one among
them, and they marched to the water's edge to fight for their homes.
Within the little fort one William Jasper, a sergeant, saw that a ball
had cut down the flag and it had fallen over the rampart. "Colonel," he
said to his commander, "don't let us fight without a flag." "What can
you do?" demanded Colonel Moultrie, "the staff is broken." Sergeant
Jasper was a man of few words and many deeds. He leaped through an
embrasure, walked the whole length of the fort in a heavy fire from the
ships, caught up the flag, brought it safely back, and fastened it to a
sponge-staff. Then, in the midst of cheers,--in which I fancy the
British also joined,--he fastened the rescued banner upon the bastion.
The following day the Governor came to the fort, asked for Sergeant
Jasper, presented him with his own sword, and gave him hearty thanks in
behalf of his country. Then he said, "I will gladly give you a
lieutenant's commission," but the honest man refused. "I am only a
sergeant," he said. "I don't know how to read or write, and I am not fit
to keep company with officers." Colonel Moultrie then gave him a roving
commission, and he often made some little trip with half a dozen men and
returned with a band of prisoners before any one realized that he had
gone. The wife of Major Elliot presented the regiment with a pair of
beautiful silken colors, which were afterwards carried in the assault
upon Savannah. The standard-bearers were shot down; another man seized
them, but he was also shot; then Sergeant Jasper caught them and
fastened them on the parapet, when he too was fatally wounded by a ball.
"Tell Mrs. Elliot," he said, "that I lost my life supporting the colors
she gave to our regiment." A tablet in honor of the brave sergeant was
long ago placed in Savannah.
The rattlesnake as an emblem seems to have been somewhat of a favorite
among the colonists. Besides Franklin's snake of the many
initials--which, indeed, might have stood, or coiled, for any sort of
serpent--there was the one borne by Patrick Henry's men when they
forced the Governor of Virginia to pay for the powder which he had
carried away from the colonial magazine. Then, too, there was a third
variety of snake, the one that stretched itself across a colonial
naval flag and proclaimed--from the top of the mast--"Don't tread on
me." On another flag the rattlesnake appeared coiled in the roots of a
pine tree and ready to strike. The Culpeper Minute Men of Virginia had
a coiled snake on their flag. In the winter of 1775 there appeared in
the _Pennsylvania Journal_ an article setting forth the propriety of
choosing the rattlesnake to represent America. The style of the
article and its keenness are like Franklin, but there is no proof that
he was its author. Whoever did write it notes that the "rattler" is
peculiar to America; that the brightness of its eyes and their lack of
lids fit it to be an emblem of vigilance. It never begins an attack
and never surrenders, never wounds till it has given warning. The
writer had counted the rattles on the naval flag, and found them to be
exactly thirteen, the number of the colonies. He had also noted that
the rattles were independent of one another, and yet most firmly
united; and that while one rattle alone is incapable of producing any
sound, the ringing of the thirteen together is sufficient to alarm the
boldest man living. Whether Franklin wrote this or not, let us at
least be thankful that these arguments did not prevail, and that on
the flag of the United States there are stars and not serpents.