enormous canvas "Belchazzer's Feast." "The Angel Liberating St. Peter
from Prison" is one of decided merit. Gilbert Stuart was not a follower
of the others, had a distinct and forceful individuality, the striking
details of his work being brilliance in coloring and the natural
life-like posing. He was the first American master of painting. His
early sketches were lost. At the age of thirteen he received commission
to paint two portraits. Two years later he went to Scotland. His stay
there was short, he pined for home, secured passage and returned,
later going to London in 1775, suffering privation. Afterwards a pupil
under West for five years, his success was immediate; people of wit
and fashion thronged his studio. He tasked himself to six sitters a
day. Then devoted himself to society, living in great splendor. During
this period he painted Louis the Sixteenth, George III, and Prince of
Wales. Now his position was assured, he indulged himself in refusing
many sitters, money failed to tempt him, only those who appealed to his
artistic taste or afforded the best opportunity for a good picture. He
was willing to give up all the golden opportunities Europe presented
that he might have the privilege and satisfaction of painting the one
man, whose heroic qualities fascinated him most. In 1792 he returned
to the City of Brotherly Love, establishing his studio here, painted
three portraits of Washington, unlike Peale, who made in all fourteen
of Washington from life, painting him in the prime of his vigour.
Stuart depicts the late autumn of his life, a face in which the lines
of character are softened, a face chastened by responsibilities, it is
the face, who has conquered himself as well as others; he represents
him indeed as "The Father of His Country." He said, "I copy the works
of God, leave clothes to the tailor, and mantua maker."
In Washington he found sentiments, grace and character. In the story
of art, Gilbert Stuart holds a unique, and dignified position. "The
Course of Nature is but the Art of God." Thomas Cole was a landscape
painter. The sketches he painted in the Catskills--the banks, woods,
rocks and the Cascades--gained recognition. He was an ardent student
of English literature, influenced by Sir Walter Scott. In truth, was
more of a poet than painter. His noted pictures were "The Voyage of
Childhood," "The Course of Empire," consisting of five canvasses, first
representing "A Nation's Rise, Progress, Decline and Fall." These are
at the Historical Society of New York. The last picture of the serial,
entitled "Desolation," has rarely been surpassed in solemn majesty, and
depth of thought.--_Miss Emily G. Morrow, American Monthly Magazine._
"UNCLE SAM" EXPLAINED AGAIN.
Troy, New York, is said to be the place where the name "Uncle Sam"
originated. After the declaration of war with England by the colonies
a New York contractor, Elbert Anderson, visited Troy and made it his
headquarters for the purchase of provisions for the Continental army.
The supplies were duly inspected before shipment. One of the inspectors
was Samuel Wilson, brother of Ebenezer, also an inspector and known as
Uncle Sam to the workmen whom he superintended.
The casks in which the beef and pork were packed were marked with the
initials of Elbert Anderson, the contractor, and the United States,
thus: "E. A.--U. S." says the _New York Sun_. The first pair of
initials were of course familiar to the men, but "U. S." mystified
them. The fact was that the name United States was then so new to these
countrymen that its initials were a complete puzzle. They turned to the
nearest explanation, a humorous one and intended as a joke on their
boss. If "E. A." stood for Elbert Anderson, then they opined "U. S."
must stand for "Uncle Sam" Wilson. The joke spread to the Continental
army, which carried it to every part of the country.
AN EPISODE OF THE WAR OF THE REVOLUTION.
In 1781 South Carolina was completely overrun by the British. The
English colonists were divided, the majority being in favor of the
Revolution, but there were a goodly number of loyal men among them who
conscientiously espoused the cause of the Mother country and these were
called Tories. Those who took part in the Revolution were called Whigs.
Lancaster County was their stronghold. They were mostly descendants of
the Scotch-Irish. Among these was Charles Mackey, their acknowledged
leader.
The Whigs had always made Lancaster too hot for the Tories, but the
advent of the British with Tarleton at their head, turned the tide of
war, and now the Tories with Tarleton drove the Whigs from Lancaster
across the Catawba and the Pedee Rivers to join General Marion.
Charles Mackey, as the leader of his band, had made himself very
obnoxious to the Tories and they impatiently waited the time for
vengeance. He was a man of medium size, very active and energetic, a
fine horseman, a splendid shot, hot headed, impulsive, often running
unnecessary risks and doing dare-devil deeds. No work was too hazardous
for him. His wife, Lydia Mackey, was a woman of good common sense, with
a clear head and fine judgment. In her coolness and self-possession she
was far superior to her husband.
They had a family of young children, and Charles Mackey had not heard
from them or seen any of them in several weeks. Their home was not more
than two and a half miles from Tarleton's camp, on the Hanging Rock
Creek. He knew it would be hazardous for him to return to his home so
near Tarleton's camp; but his anxiety became so great that he could no
longer remain in doubt, so he cautiously made his way home where he
unwisely loitered for a week, and during this time he had the temerity
to enter Tarleton's lines more than once in search of information which
was most valuable to his country's defenders.
His home had patches of corn and potatoes on either side of a lane
leading to the front of the house, while at the rear was a large
kitchen-garden extending back to a great swamp, which was almost
impenetrable to man or beast. This swamp was surrounded by a quagmire
from ten to thirty feet wide. It was entered by jumping from tussock to
tussock of moss covered clumps of mold, a foot or two in diameter and
rising six to eight inches above the black jelly-like mire which shook
in every direction when passing over it. A plank or fence-rail served
as a temporary draw-bridge, which was pulled into the swamp after
passing over.
When the country was infested by Tories, Charles Mackey spent his days
in this swamp if not out scouting. At night he ventured home. He had
good watch dogs and they gave the alarm whenever any one approached,
whether by night or day. If at night, he would immediately lift a loose
plank in the floor of his bed room, drop through to the ground, and
out in the rear and run thirty or forty yards across the garden with
his gun in hand and disappear in the swamp, pulling his fence rail
draw-bridge after him. There was no approach to the house from the
rear, and his retreat was always effected with impunity.
Once when he was at home, on the eve of leaving with some valuable
information for the American General, his faithful watch dog failed to
give warning of the approach of strangers and the first notice of their
presence was their shouting "Hallo" in front of the house. Mrs. Mackey
jumped out of bed, threw open the window shutters, stuck her head out,
surveyed carefully the half dozen armed men, and said: "Who is there?"
"Friends," they replied. "Is Charlie Mackey at home?" She promptly
answered "No." In the mean time Charlie had raised the loose plank
in the floor, and was ready to make for the swamp in the rear, when,
stopping for a moment to make sure of the character of his visitors,
he heard the spokesman say: "Well, we are sorry indeed, for there was
a big fight yesterday on Lynch's Creek, between General Marion and the
British, and we routed the Redcoats completely. We have been sent to
General Davie at Lansford with orders to unite with General Marion at
Flat Rock as soon as possible, and then to attack Tarleton. We do not
know the way to Lansford and came to get Charlie to pilot us." Mrs.
Mackey, calm and collected, said she was sorry her husband was not at
home. But her husband was just the reverse, hot headed and impetuous.
This sudden news of victory after so many reverses excited him, and
he madly rushed out into the midst of the mounted men, hurrahing for
Marion and Davie, and shouting vengeance on the Redcoats and Tories,
and he began shaking hands enthusiastically with the boys and asking
particulars about the fight, when the ringleader cooly said: "Well,
Charlie, old fellow, we have set many traps for you, but never baited
them right until now. You are our prisoner." And they marched him
off just as he was, without hat or coat and without allowing him
a moment to say a parting word to his poor wife. They took him to
Col. Tarleton's headquarters where he was tried by court-martial and
sentenced to death as a spy.
The next day, Mrs. Mackey, not knowing what had happened to him,
gathered some fruits and eggs, and with a basket well filled made
her way to Col. Tarleton's. The Colonel was on parade, but a young
officer asked her to be seated. He said: "You have something for sale,
I presume?" She replied that she had fruit and eggs. He gladly took
what she had and paid for them. She then said her basket of fruit was
only a pretext to get to Col. Tarleton's headquarters. That she was
anxious to see him in person on business of great importance. She then
explained to him the capture of her husband and that she wished to get
him released if he were still alive, though she did not know but what
they had hung him to the first tree they had come to.
The officer told her the Colonel was on parade and would not return for
two hours. Mrs. Mackey was a comely woman of superior intelligence and
soon interested the young officer in her sad condition. He expressed
for her the deepest sympathy and told her that her husband was near
by under guard; that he had been tried and sentenced to death, and
he feared there was no hope for him, as the evidence against him by
the Tories was of the most positive kind. He told her Col. Tarleton
was as cruel and unfeeling as he was brave, and that he would promise
her anything to get rid of her, but would fulfill nothing. "However"
said he, "I will prepare the necessary document for your husband's
release, filling in the blanks so that it will only be necessary to get
Col. Tarleton's signature, but I again frankly say that it is almost
hopeless."
At twelve o'clock Tarleton rode up, dismounted, and entered the
adjoining tent. As he passed along the young officer said, "You must
wait until he dines; another horse will be brought and when he comes up
to mount you can approach him, but not till then."
At the expected time the tall, handsome, clean-shaven Colonel came out
of his tent, and as he neared his charger, he was confronted by the
heroic Lydia Mackey, who in a few words made known the object of her
visit. He quickly replied that he was in a hurry and could not at that
time stop to consider her case. She said the case was urgent; that her
husband had been condemned to death and he alone had the power to save
him. He replied: "Very well, my good woman, when I return later in the
day I will inquire into the matter." Saying this he placed his foot in
the stirrup and sprang up, but before he could throw his right leg over
the saddle, Mrs. Mackey caught him by the coat and jerked him down. He
turned upon her with a scowl, as she implored him to grant her request.
He was greatly discomfited and angrily said he would inquire into the
case on his return. He then attempted again to mount, when she dragged
him down the second time, begging him in eloquent terms to spare the
life of her husband. "Tut, tut, my good woman," said he, boiling with
rage, "do you know what you are doing? be gone, I say I will attend to
this matter at my convenience and not sooner." So saying he attempted
the third time to mount, and so the third time Lydia Mackey jerked him
to the ground. Holding by the sword's scabbard, and falling on her
knees, she cried: "Draw your sword and slay me, or give me the life of
my husband, for I will never let you go until you kill me or sign this
document," which she drew from her bosom and held up before his face.
Tarleton, trembling with rage, turned to the young officer who stood
close by intently watching the scene, and said: "Captain, where is this
woman's husband?" He answered: "Under guard in yonder tent." "Order
him to be brought here," and soon Charlie Mackey stood before the
valiant Tarleton. "Sir" said he, "you have been convicted of bearing
arms against His Majesty's government; worse, you have been convicted
of being a spy. You have dared to enter my lines in disguise as a spy,
and you cannot deny it, but for the sake of your wife I will give you a
full pardon on condition that you will take an oath never again to bear
arms against the King's government."
"Sir," said Charlie Mackey, in the firmest tones, "I cannot accept
pardon on these terms. It must be unconditional or I must die," and
poor Lydia Mackey cried out, "I, too, must die." On her knees she plead
with such fervor and eloquence that Tarleton seemed lost for a moment
and hesitated; then turning to the young Captain he said with quivering
lips and a voice choking with emotion:
"Captain, for God's sake sign my name to this paper, and let this woman
go."
With this, Mrs. Mackey sank to the ground exhausted, and Col. Tarleton
rode off, doubtless happier for having spared the life of the heroic
Lydia's husband.
The history of the American Revolution can hardly present a more
interesting tableau than that of Lydia Mackey begging the life of
her husband at the hands of the brave and bloody Tarleton, and it is
probable that the "Lydia Mackey victory" was the first ever gained over
the heart of this redoubtable commander, and it is very certain that
Charles Mackey was the only condemned prisoner ever liberated by him
without taking the oath of allegience to the Mother Country.--MRS. F.
H. ORME, _Atlanta Chapter, D. A. R._
STATE FLOWERS.
In most instances, the state floral emblems have been adopted by the
vote of the pupils of the public schools of their respective states.
Alabama, goldenrod.
Arizona, suwarso.
Arkansas, apple blossoms.
California, California poppy.
Colorado, columbine.
Connecticut, mountain laurel.
Delaware, peach blossoms.
Florida, Japan camellia.
Georgia, Cherokee rose.
Idaho, syringa.
Illinois, rose.
Indiana, corn.
Iowa, wild rose.
Kansas, sunflower.
Louisiana, magnolia.
Maine, pine cone.
Michigan, apple blossom.
Minnesota, moccasin flower.
Mississippi, magnolia.
Missouri, goldenrod.
Montana, bitter-root.
Nebraska, goldenrod.
New Jersey, sugar maple.
Nevada, sage brush.
New York, moss rose.
New Mexico, crimson rambler rose.
North Carolina, chrysanthemum.
North Dakota, goldenrod.
Ohio, buckeye.
Oklahoma, mistletoe.
Oregon, Oregon grape.
Rhode Island, violet.
South Carolina, Carolina palmetto.
South Dakota, pasque flora.
Texas, blue bonnet.
Utah, sago lily.
Vermont, red clover.
Washington, rhododendron.
Wisconsin, violet.
THE COUNTIES OF GEORGIA.
BY KATHARINE B. MASSEY.
When I was a little girl, our fad was the possession of a charmstring.
This was a string of buttons, obtained by coaxing from our elders or
barter with each other, and constantly added to until some of them
reached the length of several yards. With delightful pride we told over
the list of our treasures. "This button," one would say, "came from
Cousin Mary's wedding dress; this my Uncle John gave me; this was sent
to me from China by my aunt who is a missionary in Canton; and this
bright brass one was on my father's uniform during the war." Much of
family life and many loving associations were thus strung together for
the little maiden. In some such way, but in a larger sense, our state
has used the naming of its counties as a cord of gold on which to hang
traditions of its past, memories of its heroes, and reverences for
those who helped us when help was needed.
A group of seven counties embalms the names of the Indian tribes
who owned our hills and valleys before us, who hunted the deer with
flintheaded arrows where now our cities stand, and threaded their
trails in silent forests where today our cotton fields are spread. They
are Catoosa, Chattahoochee, Chattooga, Cherokee, Coweta, Muscogee,
Oconee--how musically the syllables fall upon the ear. It is like a
chime of silver bells.
Four counties may be set together as commemorating large events in
history. Columbia, Oglethorpe, Liberty, and Union. The first of these
was named for the dauntless sailor who, possessed with the faith which
cared naught for all other men's unbelief and rising above poverty,
discouragement, and mutiny, held his way westward over unknown seas to
find his prophetic vision a reality. Oglethorpe bears the name of the
brave soldier, courteous gentleman, and broadminded philanthropist,
who founded a colony for oppressed debtors to give them a new chance
in life. Liberty County has a pretty little story of its own. A band
of Massachusetts Puritans, seeking a milder climate, settled first in
South Carolina, and not being fully satisfied, came on to St. John's
Parish, Georgia. Their distinguished devotion to the cause of liberty
in the perilous days of 1776-1783 gained for them that name when the
parishes were changed into counties. Union County was so named because
its citizens claimed to be known as Union men, when the rest of the
state stood for state rights.[1]
Another group of seven counties bears the name of English statesmen who
spoke for us in the halls of Parliament and withstood the tyranny of
king and nation in dealing with their brothers of America. They were
the fiery-tongued orator Edmund Burke, the commoners Glynn and Wilkes,
the Duke of Richmond, and the Earls of Chatham, Camden, and Effingham.
Three other foreigners, lovers of liberty, drew sword and fought in our
battles, side by side with our struggling heroes. Georgia has honored
herself by naming counties for Baron DeKalb, Count Pulaski, and General
LaFayette.
Next comes the long muster-call of heroes whose names are written on
the roll of fame as having fought for the freedom of their country--men
whose names recall Bunker Hill and Valley Forge, King's Mountain
and Guilford Court House, and all the grim experiences of a nation
struggling for existence. Georgia has named counties for Baker, Bryan,
Butts, Clarke, (Gen. Elijah, who fought the Tories in our own state),
Clinch, Early, Greene, (Gen. Nathaniel, who settled on his grant of
land in Georgia after the war,) Jasper, (the brave sergeant who leaped
over the parapet to rescue the flag at Fort Moultrie,) Laurens, Lee
(Light Horse Harry, father of the grand General of the Civil War,)
Lincoln, Macon, Marion (the Swamp Fox of South Carolina,) Meriwether,
Montgomery, Morgan, Newton, Putnam, Screven, Stewart, Sumter, Twiggs,
Taliaferro, Warren (killed at the battle of Bunker Hill,) Wayne (Mad
Anthony,) Wilkerson, Paulding, White, McIntosh--grand and glorious
names that break upon the ear like a trumpet call, inspiring to deeds
worthy to be ranked with theirs. The last of these names, McIntosh, was
given in honor of a whole family which had contributed many sons to
freedom's cause.
Seven presidents of the United States have given names to our counties.
They are Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Polk, Taylor and
Pierce.
The governors of Georgia have been a notable line, strong men of
iron will, believers in state's rights and upholders of the dignity
of the commonwealth. More than once they have withstood the national
government. The list of them includes some names famous for other
services to the state in the Revolution and the Civil War as well as in
the halls of Congress. Those for whom counties are named are: Bulloch,
Early, Elbert, Emanuel, Gilmer, Gwinnett, Habersham, Hall, Heard,
Houston, Irwin, Jackson (soldier and statesman,) Jenkins (who saved the
executive seal of state at the close of the Civil War and kept it until
military rule was over and it could be returned to a governor legally
elected by the people,) Johnson, Lumpkin, Mitchell, Rabun, Schley,
Stephens (giant soul in a frail body, whose unheeded counsels as
Vice-president of the Southern Confederacy might have prevented much of
the bitterness that followed,) Talbot, Telfair, Towns, Troup, Walton,
Forsyth, and Tattnall. Wisely and well they guided the ship of state
and left a priceless heritage of precedent to their successors.
Georgia has named fourteen counties for statesmen of national
fame--Calhoun, Clay, Webster--(these three made the great triumvirate
whose eloquence shook the land in times when nullification and
democracy were the questions of the day,) Bibb, Franklin, Brooks,
Carroll, Douglas, Hancock (one of the first to lift his voice against
British oppression in Massachusetts,) Henry (the immortal orator of
Virginia,) Lowndes, McDuffie, Murray, and Randolph (quaint, eloquent,
sarcastic John Randolph of Roanoke.)
Of her own sons whose voices have thundered in the halls of Congress,
or guided her councils at home, Georgia has named counties for Abraham
Baldwin (who first planned the state university,) Ben Hill (of the
trumpet tongue, who first dared to reply to northern slanders, to speak
the truth about Andersonville, to show that we had not food, clothing
and medicine for our own soldiers and that we did the best we could for
the unfortunate prisoners who fell into our hands; claiming the respect
of the nation and the world for the maligned Southern Confederacy.)
Berrien, Clayton, Cobb, Colquitt, Crawford, (William H., our candidate
for the presidency,) Crisp, Campbell, Charlton, Dawson, Dougherty,
Floyd, Haralson, Jones, Miller, Spanding, Turner, Walker, and Ware.
Six of our counties bear the names of men who spent their lives
fighting the Indians. They are Appling, Coffee, Butts, Wilcox, Thomas,
and Dade. Of the first of these the story is told that, in recognition
of his services, the state voted him a sword with an appropriate
inscription. Before it was ready for presentation the brave young
soldier died. As he left no heir, the sword was kept in the state
house at Milledgeville until that memorial autumn of 1864, when it
disappeared. Some soldier of Sherman's army thus became richer and the
State of Georgia poorer by a handsome sword.
The Mexican War left us the names of Echols, Fannin, Quitman, and
Worth. Other brave soldiers of the state who have been thus honored are
Glascock, Milton, Pickens, and Pike.
The Civil War gave to us the names of Bartow and Toombs. Francis C.
Bartow said: "I go to illustrate Georgia," and fell on the field of the
First Battle of Manassas. General Robert Toombs escaped from Georgia on
his mare, Grey Alice, when every road and ferry was guarded by soldiers
watching for him, made his way to England, and lived there until
it was safe for him to return, remaining to the end of his life an
"unreconstructed rebel."
Four counties, Dodge, Tift, Gordon, and Upson, are named for captains
of industry. The United States Navy gave us the name of Decatur. Banks
and Terrell are called for two beloved physicians who made their names
blessed in the homes of the people for the alleviation of pain and the
saving of life. In both cases the name was chosen for the county by the
citizens, in loving recognition of the physician's services.
The Lost Cause left with us the name of its one president, and we
who are glad that it is the Lost Cause, that slavery is no longer an
institution in our midst and that Georgia takes her rightful place in
the sisterhood of states, nevertheless claim the right to cherish our
memories, to welcome Dixie with the rebel yell, to cover our graves
with flowers on the twenty-sixth of April, to look back through a mist
of tears to Gettysburg and Appomattox, and to call one of our counties
Jeff Davis.
The noble preacher, Whitfield, who helped to establish the Bethesda
Orphan's Home, gave his name to one county; and Henry Grady,
silver-tongued and golden-hearted orator who helped to heal the
wounds of war and drew together the North and the South into renewed
brotherhood, is remembered in the name of another. Rockdale is so
called from its granite rocks and wooded dales. One is named for Robert
Fulton, the inventor, one for Harris, a prominent jurist, and last of
all, Georgia has named one county for a woman--red-headed, cross-eyed,
Tory-hating, liberty-loving Nancy Hart.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] But Georgia was at that time intensely Union, although believing in
State rights.
[Illustration: INDIAN TREATY TREE, MARIETTA, GA.]
AN HISTORIC TREE.
MRS. R. C. LITTLE, _Fielding Lewis Chapter_.