THE FIRST UNITED STATES FLAG
The "society of people at Philadelphia calling themselves the
continental congress" had had, so far as records go, nothing to do with
choosing any flag. The "Grand Union" unfurled at Cambridge was regarded
as symbolizing the union of colonies, but no one knows who designed it
or chose it. To alter the design of our flag to-day would be a very
serious matter, but the colonies were so accustomed to the making of
flags according to the whim of some militia company or some sea captain
that the appearance of a new design, especially one so slightly changed
from the familiar flag of the mother country, cannot have created any
great sensation. Moreover, flags were not for sale at department stores;
they had to be ordered, and in this time of war, bunting was not easy to
procure. Flag-makers were few, and many a captain sailed away with a
flag manufactured by his wife's own unaccustomed hands.
July 4, 1776, less than fifteen months after the battle of Lexington,
it was declared in Congress "That these united colonies are, and of
right ought to be, free and independent states." June 14, 1777, the
following resolution was adopted:--
_Resolved_, That the flag of the thirteen United States be
thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be
thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new
constellation.
So much for the share that Congress had in the flag. The story of the
making of the first flag with stars and stripes is as follows. Betsy
Ross, or, to speak more respectfully, Mrs. Elizabeth Griscom Ross,
lived on Arch Street, Philadelphia, in a tiny house of two stories and
an attic. She was called the most skillful needlewoman in the
city, and there is a tradition that before Washington became
commander-in-chief, she embroidered ruffles for his shirts--quite an
important branch of fine sewing in those days. Whether she ever
embroidered the great man's ruffles or not, it is said that, whenever
folk wanted any especially fine work done, they always went to "Betsy
Ross." She could do more than sew, for she could draw freehand the
complicated patterns that were used in quilting, the supreme proof of
artistic ability in the household. One day three gentlemen entered her
house through its humble doorway. One was her uncle by marriage,
Colonel Ross; one is thought to have been Robert Morris; one was
General Washington. The commander-in-chief told her that they had come
from Congress to ask her if she could make a flag. "I don't know," she
replied, "but I can try." Then they showed her a rough sketch of a
flag and asked what she thought of it. She replied that she thought it
ought to be longer, that a flag looked better if the length was one
third greater than the width. She ventured to make two more
suggestions. One was that the stars which they had scattered
irregularly over the blue canton would look better if they were
arranged in some regular form, such as a circle or a star or in
parallel rows. The second suggestion was that a star with five points
was prettier than one with six. Some one seems to have remarked that
it would be more difficult to make; and thereupon the skillful little
lady folded a bit of paper and with one clip of her scissors produced
a star with five points. The three gentlemen saw that her suggestions
were good, and General Washington drew up his chair to a table and
made another sketch according to her ideas.
Mrs. Ross could make wise suggestions about flags, but how to sew them
she did not know; so it was arranged that she should call on a shipping
merchant and borrow a flag from him. This she soon did. He opened a
chest and took out a ship's flag to show her how the sewing was done.
She carried it home to use as a guide, and when she reached the little
house on Arch Street, she set to work to make the first flag bearing the
stars and stripes. To try the effect, it was run up to the peak of one
of the vessels in the Delaware, and the result was so pleasing that it
was carried into Congress on the day that it was completed. Congress
approved of the work of the little lady. Colonel Ross told her to buy
all the material she could and make as many flags as possible. And for
more than fifty years she continued to make flags for the Government.
This is the account that has come down to us, not by tradition merely,
but by written statements of Mrs. Ross's daughters, grandchildren, and
others, to whom she often told the story. Mrs. Ross says that this
sample flag was made just before the Declaration of Independence,
although the Resolution endorsing it was not passed until June 14,
1777. This, however, would not argue to the incorrectness of the
account, for Congress had a fashion of writing with the utmost brevity
the results of its deliberations, and not putting in a word about the
discussions that must have taken place before the passing of a
resolution. Affairs of the utmost importance were on hand, and after
all it was the usefulness and convenience of the flag, rather than its
sentiment or the fact of its having congressional authority, that was
most in the minds of men, and it is not impossible that this design
was in use long before the date of its official recognition by
Congress. The one real weakness in the story is its lack of
contemporary evidence.
The significance of the new flag no one has expressed better than
Washington. "We take the star from Heaven," he said, "red from our
mother country, separating it by white stripes, thus showing that we
have separated from her, and the white stripes shall go down to
posterity representing liberty."
On the day of the passing of the resolution about the Stars and
Stripes, another one was passed, which read as follows:--
_Resolved_, That Captain John Paul Jones be appointed to command
the ship Ranger.
"The flag and I are twins, born the same hour," said Captain Jones.
The Ranger was launched in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and there her
captain went to take command. She had no flag, but the captain was a
favorite whereever he went, and a group of Portsmouth girls soon held
a "quilting party," but made a flag instead of a quilt. Moreover, as
silk enough of the proper colors could not be found in the stores of
Portsmouth, they made it from breadths of their best silken gowns,
red, white, and blue, the story declares. Then Jones sailed away to
see how his little Ranger would behave when she met a British
man-of-war. He soon found out, for the Ranger and the Drake met in
combat, and for the first time a British man-of-war struck her colors
to the new flag. This same little silken flag was the first to receive
a genuine foreign salute. Early in 1778 the Ranger spoke the French
fleet, off Brest Roads. Captain Jones was willing to take chances in a
sea fight, but not in the matter of a salute, and he sent a courteous
note to the French commander, informing him that the flag worn by the
Ranger was the new American standard, which had never yet received a
salute from any foreign power. "If I offer a salute, will it be
returned gun for gun?" he queried. The reply was that the same salute
would be given as to an admiral of Holland, or any other republic;
that is, four guns less than the salute given. Captain Jones anchored
in the entrance of the bay and sought for further information. He
found that the reply of the admiral was correct and according to
custom. Therefore, on the following day, he sailed through the French
fleet, saluting with thirteen guns, and receiving nine. This was an
acknowledgment of American independence, and the first salute ever
paid by a foreign naval power to the Stars and Stripes. It is true
that a salute had been given to the American brig, the Andrea Doria,
before this, by the Governor of one of the West Indian Islands; but a
salute which his Government immediately disowned and for which he was
called home is rather an individual than a national salute. Then, too,
there is no proof that the flag flown by the Andrea Doria was the
Stars and Stripes.
After a while Jones was put in command of the Bon Homme Richard, a
larger vessel than the Ranger, but she flew the same little silken
flag. Off Flamborough Head he came up with the British Serapis. After
two hours of fighting, Captain Pearson of the Serapis shouted, in a
moment's lull, "Have you struck your colors yet?" "I haven't yet begun
to fight," was Jones's reply. The two ships were lashed together, guns
burst, cartridges exploded, wide gaps were torn out of the sides of
both vessels. "Have you struck?" cried the British captain. "No!"
thundered Paul Jones. At last the Serapis yielded; but the Bon Homme
Richard was fast sinking. Captain Jones left her and took possession
of the Serapis. The American vessel rolled and lurched and pitched and
plunged. The little silken flag that had never been conquered waved in
the morning breeze for the last time, and then went down, "flying on
the ship that conquered and captured the ship that sank her."
When Paul Jones returned to America he met one of the young girls who
had given him the flag. He told her how eagerly he had longed to give it
back into the hands of those who had given it to him four years earlier.
"But, Miss Mary," he said, "I couldn't bear to strip it from the poor
old ship in her last agony, nor could I deny to my dead on her decks,
who had given their lives to keep it flying, the glory of taking it with
them." In his journal he wrote eloquently and almost as simply:--
No one was now left aboard the Richard but her dead. To them I gave
the good old ship for their coffin, and in her they found a sublime
sepulcher. She rolled heavily in the long swell, her gun-deck awash
to the port-sills, settled slowly by the head, and sank peacefully
in about forty fathoms. The ensign-gaff, shot away in action, had
been fished and put in place, soon after firing ceased, and our
torn and tattered flag was left flying when we abandoned her. As
she plunged down by the head at the last, her taffrail momentarily
rose in the air; so the very last vestige mortal eyes ever saw of
the Bon Homme Richard was the defiant waving of her unconquered and
unstricken flag as she went down. And as I had given them the good
old ship for their sepulcher, I now bequeathed to my immortal dead
the flag they had so desperately defended, for their winding sheet!
This is the story of the Portsmouth flag. At first its truth was
accepted without a doubt; then it was seriously questioned. Within the
last few years, new evidence in the shape of family tradition has
strengthened its position.