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HOW THE FLAG
BECAME
OLD GLORY
[Illustration: United States]
E.L.SCOTT
HOW THE FLAG BECAME
OLD GLORY
[Illustration]
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK . BOSTON . CHICAGO . DALLAS
ATLANTA . SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON . BOMBAY . CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
[Illustration:
Red, white and blue--it tells its own story--
But Spring, Who made it and named it Old Glory?--
_John Trotwood Moore._]
HOW THE FLAG BECAME
OLD GLORY
BY
EMMA LOOK SCOTT
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY A. C. VALENTINE
_New York_
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1915
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1912,
BY EMMA LOOK SCOTT.
COPYRIGHT, 1915,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1915.
_Norwood Press_
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE author acknowledges her indebtedness to the following authors and
publishers for their courtesy in allowing the use of copyright material:
to Mr. Wallace Rice for "Wheeler's Brigade at Santiago"; to Mr. Charles
Francis Adams for "Pine and Palm"; to Mr. Will Allen Dromgoole for
"Soldiers"; to Mr. John Howard Jewett for a selection from "Rebel
Flags"; to Mr. John Trotwood Moore for "Old Glory at Shiloh"; to Mr.
Henry Holcomb Bennett for "The Flag Goes By"; to Mr. Clinton Scollard
for "On the Eve of Bunker Hill"; to P. J. Kenedy and Sons for "The
Conquered Banner" by Rev. Abram Joseph Ryan; to David MacKay for "Death
of Grant" by Walt Whitman; to J. B. Lippincott Company for "The Cruise
of the Monitor" by George H. Boker; to B. F. Johnson Publishing Company,
publishers of Timrod's Memorial Volume, for "Charleston" by Henry
Timrod; to the Century Company for "Farragut" by William Tuckey
Meredith; to Mr. Harry L. Flash and the Neale Publishing Company for
"Stonewall Jackson" by Henry Lynden Flash; to Mr. Will Henry Thompson
and G. P. Putnam's Sons for "The High Tide at Gettysburg"; to Mr. Isaac
R. Sherwood and G. P. Putnam's Sons for "Albert Sidney Johnston" by Kate
Brownlee Sherwood; to Mrs. Benjamin Sledd and G. P. Putnam's Sons for
"United" by Benjamin Sledd. An extract from "Home Folks" by James
Whitcomb Riley, copyright, 1900, is used by permission of the
publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company. The poems, "Lexington" by Oliver
Wendell Holmes, "The Building of the Ship" and "The Cumberland" by Henry
Wadsworth Longfellow, "Yorktown" by John Greenleaf Whittier,
"Fredericksburg" by Thomas Bailey Aldrich, "Kearny at Seven Pines" by E.
C. Stedman, and "Robert E. Lee" by Julia Ward Howe are printed by
permission of Houghton Mifflin Company.
CONTENTS
PAGE
THE FLAG GOES BY 1
OLD GLORY 3
IN THE LIGHT OF THE OLD NORTH CHURCH 19
LEXINGTON 23
ON THE EVE OF BUNKER HILL 27
THE FLAG OF FORT STANWIX 31
THE KNIGHT OF THE SEA 39
WHERE THE STARS AND STRIPES UNFURLED 51
THE SURRENDER OF BURGOYNE 56
THE YOKE OF BRITAIN BROKEN 57
YORKTOWN 60
FROM THE OTHER SIDE 62
THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER 66
THE DEFENSE OF THE CRESCENT CITY 68
THE CIVIL WAR 77
CHARLESTON 79
FREDERICKSBURG 81
CIVIL WAR 82
'ROUND SHILOH CHURCH 84
ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON 91
OLD GLORY AT SHILOH 96
THE FLAG OF THE CUMBERLAND 100
THE CUMBERLAND 104
THE MONITOR 107
THE CRUISE OF THE MONITOR 110
THE NIGHT OF CHANTILLY 114
KEARNEY AT SEVEN PINES 120
THE CAVALRY CHARGE 122
AN IMMORTAL TWAIN 125
STONEWALL JACKSON 132
THE HIGH TIDE AT GETTYSBURG 133
UNITED 138
OLD HEART OF OAK 140
FARRAGUT 151
PINE AND PALM 154
THE CONQUERED BANNER 157
THE CONQUERED BANNER 159
DEATH OF GRANT 162
ROBERT E. LEE 164
OLD GLORY ON THE ISLAND 166
WHEELER'S BRIGADE AT SANTIAGO 170
SOLDIERS 172
HOW THE FLAG BECAME OLD GLORY
HOW THE FLAG BECAME OLD GLORY
THE FLAG GOES BY
HATS off!
Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums,
A flash of color beneath the sky;
Hats off!
The flag is passing by!
Blue and crimson and white it shines,
Over the steel-tipped ordered lines,
Hats off!
The colors before us fly!
But more than the flag is passing by.
Sea-fights and land-fights, grim and great,
Fought to make and to save the State.
Weary marches and sinking ships;
Cheers of victory on dying lips.
Days of plenty and years of peace;
March of a strong land's swift increase;
Equal justice, right and law,
Stately honor and reverent awe;
Sign of a Nation, great and strong
To ward her people from foreign wrong:
Pride and glory and honor--all
Live in the colors to stand or fall.
Hats off!
Along the street there comes
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums,
And loyal hearts are beating high:
Hats off!
The flag is passing by!
HENRY HOLCOMB BENNETT.
OLD GLORY
WHILE every American citizen recognizes the significance of the term
"Old Glory" as applied to the national flag, when and where and by whom
the nation's emblem was christened with this endearing and enduring
sobriquet is a matter of historic interest less understood.
In the early epoch-making period of the nation's history William Driver,
a lad of twelve years, native of Salem, Mass., begged of his mother
permission to go to sea. With her consent he shipped as cabin boy on the
sailing vessel _China_, bound for Leghorn, a voyage of eighteen months.
On this first voyage the courageous spirit of the youth manifested
itself in a determination to disprove the words of the ship's owner,
made to him at the beginning of the voyage: "All boys on their first
voyage eat more than they earn."
In appreciation of the mettle shown by the lad, the owner presented
him, upon the return from the cruise, with twenty-eight dollars in
silver, besides his wages of five dollars per month. He carried the
money to his mother, who wisely admonished him to do the very best he
could under every circumstance, a charge he never forgot.
His intrepid spirit brought the youthful mariner rapid and deserved
promotion. His eighteenth year found him master of a vessel. Those were
hazardous days upon the sea, and more than once his ship was subjected
to indignity and outrage incident to seafaring of that period. But
throughout a long career as master of a merchantman the Stars and
Stripes was never lowered from the masthead nor sullied by defeat or by
dishonor.
[Illustration: CAPTAIN WILLIAM DRIVER.]
The sailor, of all men, venerates his nation's flag. To him it is the
visible and tangible token of the government he serves, and in it he
beholds all the government's strength and virtue. To William Driver,
therefore, the Stars and Stripes typified the glory of the land and of
the sea. And seeing his nation's symbol float dauntless and triumphant
above stress of every encounter and happening upon the deep enkindled
the inherent love in his heart for it to enthusiastic ardor, and in
thought he called the flag "Old Glory."
A simple incident, but fraught with unread meaning, gave the name into
the nation's keep, albeit its formal christening and national adoption
was not to come until the soil beneath its folds should be deep-dyed
with the blood of conflict between the land's own countrymen.
[Illustration: _Photo of Original Flag._
"OLD GLORY."]
In 1831, as master of the brig _Charles Daggett_, about to set sail for
a voyage around the world from Salem, Mass., Captain Driver was
presented by the citizens with a large bunting flag in commendation of
his services upon the sea and his well-known love for his country's
emblem. This flag, when presented, was rolled in the form of a triangle,
and the halyards bent. A young sailor, stepping forward, said: "In
ancient times, when an ocean voyage was looked upon with superstitious
dread, it was the custom on the eve of departure to roll the banner in
form of a triangle. When ready and bent like this, a priest stepped
forward and, taking the banner in his hand, sprinkled it with
consecrated water and dedicated it to 'God the Father, God the Son, and
God the Holy Ghost,' turning the point of the triangle upward at the
name of each, thus calling on that sacred unity of Creator, Redeemer,
and Sanctifier to bless the national emblem and prosper the voyagers and
their friends. The flag thus consecrated was then hoisted to the
masthead."
With glistening eyes the captain watched the hoisting of the flag; and
as it fell into position at the masthead of his ship and the colors
unfurled to the breeze, he shouted: "I'll call her Old Glory, boys, Old
Glory!"
Cheer after cheer rent the air. The signals of departure were sounded,
the cables were cast off, and the good ship set sail for foreign ports.
This was the ninth and most memorable voyage made by Captain Driver.
From the island of Tahiti he rescued the suffering descendants of the
mutineers of the English ship _Bounty_, and at risk of grave
considerations turned his vessel from her outlined course and returned
them to their beautiful and longed-for home, Pitcairn, in the waters of
the South Pacific, the settlement of an island, which marks one of the
memorable events of English naval history.
Captain Driver made his last voyage around the globe in command of the
_Black Warrior_. At the masthead flew his Salem flag, Old Glory, to
which he never referred but by that loving pseudonym.
He left the sea in 1837 to become a resident of Nashville, Tenn. He
carried Old Glory with him as a sacred relic, carefully deposited in a
heavy, brass-bound, camphorwood sea chest that had accompanied him on
all his voyages. On legal holidays, on St. Patrick's day (which was his
own birthday), and on days of especial celebration in the Southern city
Old Glory was released from confinement and thrown to the light from
some window of the Driver residence or hung on a rope across the street
in a triumphal arch under which all processions passed.
At the outbreak of the civil strife Captain Driver avowed his Union
sympathies and stood openly for his convictions in the face of business
losses, arrest, and threatened banishment.
[Illustration: THE CHEST IN WHICH "OLD GLORY" RESTED.]
Just after the secession of the State he daringly flaunted his Old Glory
flag from his window; then, fearing its confiscation (which his action
had rendered liable), he procured a calico quilt of royal purple hue,
and with the aid of two neighboring women sewed it up between the
coverings and hid the quilt in his old sea chest.
Again and again the house was searched by Confederate soldiers for this
flag, but without success.
Under the purple Old Glory rested. The flag of the Confederacy waved
above the Capitol; and Nashville, in pride, prosperity, and splendor,
basked in the promise of ultimate victory to the Southland.
But to a rude awakening this fancied security was foredoomed. Suddenly,
like the breaking of a terrific thunderclap above the city, came the
awesome cry: "Fort Donelson has fallen!"
Fort Donelson fallen meant Nashville's subjection. Terror-stricken, the
people rushed wildly in every direction, and the most ill-founded
reports in the excitement gained ready credence. It was announced that
General Buell would speedily arrive and open his batteries from across
the river, and that gunboats would lay the city in ruins. Some of the
citizens urged the burning of the city, that no spoils might be left to
the enemy.
The fine suspension bridge across the Cumberland was fired. The
commissaries were thrown open, and vast quantities of public stores,
amounting to millions of dollars, were distributed among the inhabitants
or destroyed. The archives of the State were hurriedly conveyed to
Memphis. In the mad desire to escape an impending doom of whose nature
they were wholly ignorant, residents vacated their houses and left
priceless furnishings a prey to the invading army. On foot, on
horseback, by wagon, by any available means that best favored their
flight, the crowds surged out of the conquered city.
Notwithstanding the apprehensions of speedy hostilities, it was a week
later before General Buell was encamped in Edgefield, opposite the city.
To him the mayor formally surrendered Nashville. A proclamation was
issued assuring the inhabitants of protection in person and property.
Up the Cumberland steamed fifteen transports and one gunboat--General
Nelson's wing of the Union army. From the levee came the clamor and
shouts of men, the rattle of musketry, and din of many feet. The Sixth
Ohio was the first regiment to land. Captain Driver was an interested
observer of the scene. "Now," said he, "hath the hour of Old Glory
come!"
Lieutenant Thacher, of the Sixth, with a squad of soldiers, left the
regiment and escorted Captain Driver to his home, a few blocks distant.
They wrested Old Glory from its hiding place and, with the old mariner
bearing the flag in his arms, quickly rejoined the regiment.
Up the hill, amidst rattle of drum and sounding trumpets, passed the
bluecoats to the Capitol. There a small regimental flag was being
hoisted. Suddenly a hush fell upon the waiting victors. The figure of
Captain Driver appeared high against the dome of the Statehouse. The
strains of "The Star-Spangled Banner" burst upon the ear; and amid
cheers and cries of "Old Glory! Old Glory!" that echoed to the distant
hills the old sea flag unfurled and floated above the topmost pinnacle
of the Capitol of Tennessee. And thus Old Glory received her formal
christening.
[Illustration: AMID CHEERS AND CRIES OF "OLD GLORY! OLD GLORY!" THAT
ECHOED TO THE DISTANT HILLS THE OLD SEA FLAG UNFURLED AND FLOATED
ABOVE THE TOPMOST PINNACLE OF THE CAPITOL OF TENNESSEE.]
Swarming over the city, bent on various quests, went the victorious
Federals. Not so the old sailor. The revered flag, flaunting the colors
so joyously above his head once more, was far too weather-beaten, he
feared, to withstand long the stiff breeze blowing about the elevated
site. Torn to ribbons it must not be, howsoever good the cause.
Quietly he watched and waited about the grounds until after nightfall,
when, under cover of the darkness, he again ascended the dome, rescued
his beloved old flag, and swung in its place a big merino one that had
figured as a campaign flag in 1840, when "Tippecanoe and Tyler too" was
the slogan of the Whig Party. He then carried Old Glory to his home and
laid it tenderly away in the old sea locker so long dedicated to its
use.
Very gradually thereafter the pleasing appellation, Old Glory, made its
impress upon the speech of the populace, until, in the later nineties,
the "Hoosier Poet" was moved to expression in verse:
Old Glory, the story we're wanting to hear,
Is what the plain facts of your christening were,
For your name, just to hear it,
Repeat it and cheer it, s'tang to the spirit
As salt as a tear.
And seeing you fly and the boys marching by,
There's a shout in the throat and a blur in the eye
And an aching to live for you always or die;
And so, by our love for you floating above,
And the scars of all wars and the sorrows thereof,
Who gave you the name of Old Glory?
JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY.
But to the query the sealed lips of the old seaman answered not. For him
had come the higher summons.
Captain Driver's death occurred in Nashville in 1886. At the head of his
grave, in the old City Cemetery, stands a unique monument of his own
designing. Upon an old tree trunk, in stone, appears a ship's anchor and
cable. At the top of the anchor is inscribed the beloved pseudonym of
his heart's own coinage, above him here, even in his last sleep: "His
ship, his country, and his flag--Old Glory." About his body when placed
within the casket was wrapped a United States flag.
A few years prior to his death Captain Driver placed his Old Glory flag
in the hands of his elder daughter, Mrs. Roland, of Wells, Nev., who was
then on a visit to him, saying brokenly as he resigned it: "Take this
flag and cherish it as I have done. I love it as a mother loves her
child. It has been with me, and it has protected me in all parts of the
world."
Worn and faded and tattered, this flag is still in the possession of
Mrs. Roland; and in her far Western home it is displayed on patriotic
occasions and the story of its naming repeated. Another, presumably the
Whig flag herein mentioned, and that, as has been shown, also flew over
the Capitol of Tennessee, was sent by Captain Driver, upon request, to
the Essex Institute, of Massachusetts. Some confusion has of late arisen
in the public mind regarding the identity of the two flags, it having
been generally believed that the original Old Glory was the flag in the
Massachusetts Institute. This impression is, however, doubtless
erroneous.
Notwithstanding a somewhat brusque address and a marked individuality of
speech and action, Captain Driver was a man of warm and kindly nature.
Although a stanch Unionist, he lent a ready and willing hand to the
suffering ones of the South. He married the first time Miss Martha
Babbage, of Salem, Mass. For his second wife he espoused a Southern
woman, Sarah J. Parks, of Nashville, Tenn. Two of his sons bore arms in
the Confederate service. One of these gave his life for the "lost
cause."
* * * * *
It remained for yet another conflict after the civil strife to bring the
name Old Glory into general and popular use, FOR THE BLENDED RANKS OF
THE BLUE AND THE GRAY OPPOSED A COMMON FOE. When the North and the South
joined hands against a foreign power and floated the Stars and Stripes
above the emblem of Spain upon the island of Cuba, the flag of the Union
became Old Glory to every man of the nation.
IN THE LIGHT OF THE OLD NORTH CHURCH
"History points no struggle for liberty which has in it more of the
moral sublime than that of the American Revolution."
THEY were a godly people, these revolutionary fathers of ours. They
prayed as they thought; and they fought as they believed and prayed.
They sought no quarrel with the mother country; they asked only
independent action, considering themselves full grown in point of
knowledge of their needs and desires, although but infants in age as
compared with other subjects of Great Britain.
When, therefore, Old England announced, "You shall pay taxes!" the
colonists demurred.
"We are not represented in your Parliament; we have no voice in your
councils!"
"But you must pay taxes," she commanded.
They replied, "We will not."
"I will compel you," retorted she.
[Illustration: THE OLD NORTH CHURCH.]
"If you can," was the answer.
A British fleet then sailed into Boston harbor, and British soldiers
swarmed over Boston town. This action enraged the citizens. It angered
the "Sons of Liberty," whose name is self-explanatory and whose slogan
was "Liberty or Death," and inspired them to more vigorous efforts
toward freedom from Britain's power. The "Minute Men" were organized and
stood ready to the summons, ready at a minute's notice to leave forest,
field, or fireside, to take up arms in defense of their liberties and
their rights.
The spirit of dissension ran rife; and petty altercations between the
British soldiers and the citizens were of daily occurrence. A trivial
happening brought about the Boston Massacre. A "Son of Liberty" and a
British soldier disputed the right of way of a street passage.
"Stand aside," said the one.
"Give way," said the other.
Neither would yield. Blows followed. Rocks flew. The soldiers marshaled
and fired into the crowd. Several citizens were killed. The town was
ablaze with excitement. And the governor had finally to withdraw the
troops from Boston.
When antagonism had abated in degree, King George devised new measures
of taxation and stirred ill feeling again. Boston brewed British tea in
the ocean. England disliked the taste of it. The people were declared
Rebels; and the charter of Massachusetts was annulled by Parliament. Ten
thousand British soldiers then came over. Boston Neck was seized and
fortified. The colonists were to be forced into obedience.
Then from Lexington and Concord the signals of revolt were sounded--
"They were building well for a race unborn,
As the British plowed through the waving corn,
For the birth-pang of Freedom rang that morn."
The Battle of Bunker Hill that followed was but the natural sequence.
Defeated though the patriots were in this their first real battle, it
was a defeat that spelled for them ultimate victory. This they
recognized dimly, but certainly, as they knew that they had gone into
battle with a prayer on their lips for themselves, for their homes, and
their country. Their hearts were fired anew for freedom. Their arms
would be strengthened to their desires. As the lights from the belfry of
Old North Church revealed to Paul Revere the route the British were to
take against them in the memorable beginnings at Lexington and Concord,
so the light from the Great Book above its chancel rail would direct
them the way they should go.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF LEXINGTON.]
LEXINGTON
With one impulse the colonies sprung to arms; with one spirit they
pledged themselves to each other, "to be ready for the extreme
event." With one heart the continent cried, "Liberty or Death!"
BANCROFT.
SLOWLY the mist o'er the meadow was creeping,
Bright on the dewy buds glistened the sun,
When from his couch while his children were sleeping,
Rose the bold rebel, and shouldered his gun.
Waving her golden veil
Over the silent dale,
Blithe looked the morning on cottage and spire;
Hushed was his parting sigh,
While from his noble eye,
Flashed the last sparkle of liberty's fire.
On the smooth green, where the fresh leaf is springing,
Calmly the first-born of glory have met,
Hark! the death-volley around them is ringing!
Look! with their lifeblood the young grass is wet!
Faint is the feeble breath,
Murmuring low in death,--
"Tell to our sons how their fathers have died;"
Nerveless the iron hand,
Raised for its native land,
Lies by the weapon that gleams at its side.
Over the hillsides the wild knell is tolling,
From their far hamlets the yeomanry come;
As through the storm-clouds the thunderburst rolling
Circles the beat of the mustering drum.
Fast on the soldier's path
Darken the waves of wrath,
Long have they gathered and loud shall they fall;
Red glares the muskets' flash,
Sharp rings the rifles' crash
Blazing and clanging from thicket and wall.
Gayly the plume of the horseman was dancing,
Never to shadow his cold brow again;
Proudly at morning the war steed was prancing,
Reeking and panting he droops on the rein;
Pale is the lip of scorn,
Voiceless the trumpet horn,
Torn is the silken-fringed red cross on high;
Many a belted breast
Low on the turf shall rest,
Ere the dark hunters the herd have passed by.
Snow-girdled crags where the hoarse wind is raving,
Rocks where the weary floods murmur and wail,
Wilds where the fern by the furrow is waving,
Reeled with the echoes that rode on the gale;
Far as the tempest thrills
Over the darkened hills
Far as the sunshine streams over the plain,
Roused by the tyrant band,
Woke all the mighty land,
Girded for battle, from mountain to main.
Green be the graves where her martyrs are lying!
Shroudless and tombless they sank to their rest,
While o'er their ashes the starry fold flying
Wraps the proud eagle they roused from his nest!
Borne on her Northern pine,
Long o'er the foaming brine,
Spread her broad banner to storm and to sun;
Heaven keep her ever free,
Wide as o'er land and sea,
Floats the fair emblem her heroes have won!
O. W. HOLMES.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL.]
ON THE EVE OF BUNKER HILL
The consequences of the battle of Bunker Hill were greater than
those of any ordinary conflict. It was the first great battle of
the Revolution, and not only the first blow, but the blow which
determined the contest. When the sun of that day went down, the
event of independence was no longer doubtful.
WEBSTER.
June 16, 1775
'TWAS June on the face of the earth, June with the rose's breath,
When life is a gladsome thing, and a distant dream is death;
There was gossip of birds in the air, and the lowing of herds by the wood,
And a sunset gleam in the sky that the heart of a man holds good;
Then the nun-like Twilight came, violet vestured and still,
And the night's first star outshone afar on the eve of Bunker Hill:
There rang a cry through the camp, with its word upon rousing word;
There was never a faltering foot in the ranks of those that heard.
Lads from the Hampshire hills and the rich Connecticut vales,
Sons of the old Bay Colony, from its shores and its inland dales;
Swiftly they fell in line; no fear could their valor chill;
Ah, brave the show as they ranged a-row on the eve of Bunker Hill.
Then a deep voice lifted a prayer to God of the brave and the true
And the heads of the men were bare in the gathering dusk and dew;
The heads of a thousand men were bowed as the pleading rose,--
Smite Thou, Lord, as of old Thou smotest Thy people's foes!
Oh, nerve Thy Servants' arms to work with a mighty will!
A hush, and then a loud Amen! on the eve of Bunker Hill!
Now they are gone through the night with never a thought of fame,
Gone to the field of a fight that shall win them deathless name;
Some shall never again behold the set of the sun,
But lie like the Concord slain, and the slain of Lexington,
Martyrs to Freedom's cause. Ah, how at their deeds we thrill,
The men whose might made strong the height on the eve of Bunker Hill.
CLINTON SCOLLARD.
THE FLAG OF FORT STANWIX
TRITE but true is the old adage that necessity is the mother of
invention. The first flag that flew over an American fort was
constructed from an "ammunition shirt, a blue jacket captured from the
British, and a woman's red petticoat."
The garrison at Fort Stanwix (Fort Schuyler) had no flag; but it had
possession of the fort despite the siege of twenty days against it by
the British; and it had five British standards taken from the enemy. So
it improvised a flag and, with cheers and yells befitting the occasion,
ran the British standards upside down upon the flag mast and swung the
Stars and Stripes above them. The redcoats looked, and, it is safe to
assert, laughed not, as to them the humor of the situation was not
appealing. But if they were lacking in the sense of humor, these sons of
Old England were not lacking in persistence, and they besieged the fort
with steady determination.
Fort Stanwix stood at the head of navigation of the Mohawk River and was
an important feature in the plan of General Burgoyne to cut off New
England from the southern colonies and thus control the whole country.
Embarking upon this expedition, he had instructed his army: "The
services required are critical and conspicuous. Difficulty, nor labor,
nor life are to be regarded. The army must not retreat." As he advanced
down the Hudson he swept everything before him. Ticonderoga, Mount
Defiance, Whitehall, Fort Edward, each in turn fell: and he now
anticipated no successful resistance to his forces.
At the beginning of General Burgoyne's invasion a force of Canadians,
Hessians, New York Tories, and Indians commanded by General St. Leger
had been sent against Fort Stanwix. The post was held by General
Gansevoort with some seven hundred and fifty men. They were ill supplied
with ammunition and had few provisions. To Burgoyne defeat seemed here
impossible. The siege had, however, been anticipated by the garrison,
and the men had determined to hold out to the last extremity.
Word was surreptitiously conveyed to Colonel Willett within the fort
that General Herkimer would set out with eight hundred volunteers to
reenforce him and that a successful sortie might be made against the
besiegers by acting in conjunction with General Herkimer's forces. This
sortie was to be made when a certain signal was given. But the best-laid
plans, as we all have doubtless learned by experience, are not always
dependable.
St. Leger in this case learned of Herkimer's advance and sent the
savages under his command to intercept and ambuscade him. A terrible
hand-to-hand combat ensued in which a hundred and sixty of the colonists
were killed and the loss to the Indians was as great. General Herkimer's
horse was shot under him and he himself wounded severely in the leg.
Notwithstanding his agony he insisted upon being placed with his back
against a tree for support, and therefrom he continued to direct the
battle. In the heat of the contest he lighted his pipe and smoked.
The further advance of the Americans to the succor of the fort was
prevented, but Colonel Willett, in ignorance of this, made his sally
from the fort at the hour appointed. Marvelous to state, the British
were taken wholly by surprise and, having no time to form, fled. The
Americans took possession of their supplies and their standards, as
before mentioned, and retired to the fort.
Failing to shell or starve them out, St. Leger then began efforts to
induce a surrender. Two of his American prisoners were compelled to
write letters to the commandant at the fort, exaggerating the strength
of the enemy and urging, in the name of humanity, a surrender. To this
Gansevoort returned no answer. St. Leger then tried another plan.
A white flag appeared before the garrison. Two British officers were
blindfolded and admitted to the fort. They were courteously received
and, when they were seated, were proffered refreshments. One of the
officers then presented the message of General St. Leger, which was in
substance a threat, couched in polite language, that if the fort was not
surrendered, the Indians would be turned loose upon the country, and
not only the men but all the women and children would be tomahawked. Not
one should escape. But if the garrison would capitulate, not only would
these evils be averted, but none of the garrison should be injured or
made prisoners.
Colonel Willett arose. "I consider, Sir," said he, "the message you
bring a degrading one for a British officer to send and by no means
reputable for a British officer to carry. I would suffer my body to be
filled with splinters and set on fire, and such outrages are not
uncommon in your army, before I would deliver this garrison to your
mercy. After you get out of it, never expect to enter it again unless
you come as a prisoner."
Provisions were running low, and some uneasiness became manifest in the
fort. Colonel Willett, observing this, assured the men, "I will make a
sally in the night, if compelled by lack of supplies, and cut our way
through the besiegers or die in the attempt." The siege had now
continued more than twenty days, when to the surprise of the garrison it
was suddenly raised. This was due, it shortly appeared, to a ruse of
General Arnold; Arnold the valiant, Arnold the traitor.
Among the prisoners of Arnold was a young half-witted fellow who was
condemned to death. His sorrowing mother never ceased her pleading with
General Arnold for her son's life. Accordingly one day he proposed to
her this expedient: That her son, Hon Yost by name, should make his way
to Fort Stanwix and in some way so alarm the British that they would
raise the siege. Eagerly the old mother promised this should be done and
offered herself as hostage for the fulfillment of the mission. To this
Arnold would not consent, but retained another son in her place.
Before starting on his errand, Hon Yost's clothing was riddled with
bullets to indicate escape from the Americans. Reaching the camp of the
Indians, he told in a mysterious way of a premeditated attack upon them
and aroused their fears. St. Leger heard of his arrival and questioned
him. To St. Leger he related a touching story of his capture and
miraculous escape from execution, and by signs, words, and gestures
made it appear that he was an emissary of Providence to aid in their
preservation. Canadians, Hessians, all became uneasy. When he was asked
the number of the Americans about to descend upon them, Hon Yost pointed
to the leaves of the trees to indicate a legion. In his efforts to
terrorize he was ably seconded by a young Indian who had accompanied
him. Panic seized the camps. In vain St. Leger strove to allay the
frenzy. The result was precipitate flight.
[Illustration: WHEN HE WAS ASKED THE NUMBER OF THE AMERICANS ABOUT TO
DESCEND UPON THEM, HON YOST POINTED TO THE LEAVES OF THE TREES TO
INDICATE A LEGION.]
It is given by one authority that St. Leger was himself becoming as
apprehensive of his red-faced allies as he was of the enemy he was
fighting.
The fears he had sought to instill in the minds of the garrison were now
returned upon his own head.
THE KNIGHT OF THE SEA
(OUR FIRST EUROPEAN SALUTE)
INSEPARABLY connected with the Stars and Stripes must ever be the name
of John Paul Jones.
The "Untitled Knight of the Sea," the Duchess de Chartres--mother of
Louis Philippe, afterward King of France; and granddaughter of a high
admiral of France--was fond of calling him. For albeit John Paul Jones
was of Scotch peasant ancestry, his associates were people of the
highest intellect and rank. In appearance he was handsome; in manner
prepossessing; and in speech he was a linguist, having at easy command
the English, French, and Spanish languages. His surname was Paul. The
name Jones was inherited with a fine plantation in America.
The call of the sea was strong to the lad and of its dangers he had no
fear. An old seaman one day watched him handle a fishing yawl in a
heavy storm and thought he could never weather the squall. "That is my
son, John," said his father calmly. "He will fetch her in all right. It
is not much of a squall for him." The man complimented the boy and
offered him a berth on his ship then bound for America, little dreaming
that in so doing he would carry to the New World the Father of the
American Navy.
Studious and ambitious, the boy devoted his leisure moments to acquiring
the most intricate knowledge of his profession and soon held positions
of command. When the news of the battle of Lexington reached him, he
offered his services to Congress. He was made _First Lieutenant of the
Alfred, and over this ship hoisted the first emblem shown on an American
naval vessel_. The design of this flag was a pine tree with a
rattlesnake coiled at the roots and the motto, "Don't tread on me," on a
background of yellow silk.
June 14th, 1777, was made notable in American annals by the resolution
passed by Congress for a new flag. Embodied in the resolution the name
of John Paul Jones appears thus:--
"Resolved--That the flag of the Thirteen United States of America be
Thirteen Stripes, alternate Red and White; that the Union be Thirteen
Stars on a Blue Field; Representing a New Constellation:
"Resolved--That Captain John Paul Jones be appointed to command the ship
_Ranger_."
Paul Jones' remarks upon the resolutions were significant: "The flag and
I are twins; born the same hour from the same womb of destiny. We cannot
be parted in life or in death. So long as we can float we shall float
together. If we must sink, we shall go down as one."
Before the _Ranger_ was launched, Jones was informed that he was to be
the bearer of most important news to France. This news was the daily
expected surrender of Burgoyne, the surrender that was so powerfully to
affect the result of the war for independence. As to his fitness for
conveying such a message, Lafayette attested thus: "To captivate the
French fancy, Captain Jones possesses, far beyond any other officer in
your service, that peculiar aplomb, grace of manner, charm of person,
and dash of character," a compliment better understood when it is
remembered that an alliance with France against Great Britain was then
sought by Congress.
The _Ranger_ lay in the harbor of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, ready for
sailing, and Jones _with his own hands raised the flag to the masthead,
the first American flag to fly over a man-of-war_. Jones had already
brought credit to the American navy by the capture of prizes in American
waters; now he was to serve his country's interests off the coast of
England.
The tang of autumn was in the air when he set sail for France.
Fulfilling his mission at Nantes, Jones set out for Brest, where the
fleet of France was anchored. Would the Stars and Stripes, the symbol of
the New Republic across the sea, be recognized by salute? The question
was in every mind aboard ships, and the answer eagerly awaited in the
United States. A note couched in the diplomatic and elegant terms of
which Paul Jones was master, was sent by him to the admiral of the
French fleet, inquiring whether or not the flag would receive
recognition. "It will," came back the answer. With that the _Ranger
glided gracefully through the fleet of ships; and Old Glory, in all the
radiance of her new birth and coloring, waved response from the masthead
to her first salute from European powers_. We, even after the long lapse
of intervening years, feel still the thrill of her exultation.
Two months later the alliance between America and France was signed. The
Duchess de Chartres became greatly interested in the young naval
officer; and, having it in her power to advance his interests, she one
day at a dinner presented him with a fine Louis Quintze watch that had
belonged to her grandfather, saying, "He hated the English; and I love
the Americans."
Paul Jones' response to the gift was as graceful as had been the
presentation. "May it please your Royal Highness, if fortune should
favor me at sea, I will some day lay an English frigate at your feet."
Two years later he did this and more.
France had promised Jones a new ship better suited to his capabilities
than the _Ranger_. But diplomatic affairs between nations move slowly,
and in this case the waiting became tedious. Jones had exhausted the
pleasures of court circles to which he had been admitted and he longed
for the life of the sea. He finally preferred his request directly to
the king and shortly afterward was given, not the great sea monster he
had been led to expect, but an insignificant looking craft called _Le
Duras_. In compliment to Dr. Franklin's magazine of the name and in
humorous comment of the ship's appearance, he renamed it the _Bon Homme
Richard_, meaning the _Poor Richard_. But with the _Poor Richard_, as
with the human form, the spirit which animated it was the controlling
power; and the valor of Paul Jones was to send the name of the _Bon
Homme Richard_ ringing down through the ages of all time.
As Captain Jones of the _Ranger_, he had captured the _Drake_, in a big
sea fight, and surprised England; and now, as Commodore Jones, he was to
win distinction as the greatest of naval heroes.
Off the English coast at Flamborough Head, he sighted an English fleet.
The flagship was the _Serapis_, in command of Captain Pearson. As the
_Bon Homme Richard_ approached the _Serapis_, Captain Pearson raised his
glass and remarked: "That is probably Paul Jones. If so, there is work
ahead."
The salute affectionate between the vessels, after the formal hail, was
a broadside. Then they fought, fought like fiends incarnate, clinched in
each other's arms, in the death grapple, fought without flinching and,
be it said, to the glory of the American navy and the credit of the
English. The _Bon Homme_ was on fire and sinking. Captain Pearson,
noting the situation, called, "Have you struck your colors?"
Above the smoke and din of the conflict, Jones' voice answered, "I have
just begun to fight, Sir."
He then lashed his ship to the _Serapis_, and stood, himself, at the
guns.
"Shall we be quitting, Jamie?" he said in banter to a Scotchman at his
side.
"There is still a shot in the locker, Sir," replied the Scot.
"I thought," said Captain Pearson afterward, "Jones' answer to me meant
mere bravado. But I soon perceived that it was the defiance of a man
desperate enough, if he could not conquer, to sink with his ship."
The _Bon Homme Richard's_ sides were shot away; her prisoners loose; her
decks strewn with the dead and dying; the _Alliance_, her companion
ship, had turned traitor and fired into her. When the fight seemed
well-nigh lost, a well-directed blow brought disaster to the _Serapis_,
and she hauled down her colors. As Captain Pearson surrendered his
sword, Commodore Jones remarked, "You have fought heroically, Sir. I
trust your sovereign may suitably reward you." To this Captain Pearson
returned no answer.
The wonderful combat on the sea became the talk of all Europe. Paul
Jones' name was honored wherever spoken. Contrary to court etiquette, he
was invited to occupy apartments in the palace of the Duke and Duchess
de Chartres. While he was there, a banquet was tendered him. During the
progress of the dining, he called an attendant to bring from his
apartment a leather case. This when it was opened disclosed a sword.
Turning to the duchess, the commodore asked if she recalled his
promise to lay a frigate at her feet one day? "Your Royal Highness
perceives," he went on, "the impossibility of keeping my promise in
kind. The English frigate proved to be a 44 on two decks; the best I can
do toward keeping my word of two years ago, is to place in your hands
the sword of the brave officer who commanded the English 44. I have the
honor to surrender to the loveliest woman the sword surrendered to me by
one of the bravest of men,--the sword of Captain Richard Pearson, of his
Britannic Majesty's late ship the _Serapis_."
[Illustration: "I HAVE THE HONOR TO SURRENDER TO THE LOVELIEST WOMAN
THE SWORD SURRENDERED TO ME BY ONE OF THE BRAVEST OF MEN."]
The Royal Order of Military Merit with the title of Chevalier and the
gift of a gold-mounted sword were conferred upon him by the king of
France. Upon returning to America, he was given the rank of Head of the
Navy.
Remarkable as was the career of Paul Jones, the winds did not always set
in his favor. Many times was his life bark driven through the waters of
bitter disappointment. But "all that he was, and all that he did, and
all that he knew, was the result of self-help to a degree unexampled in
the histories of great men."
The flag of the _Ranger_, saluted by the French fleet, was transferred
by Jones to the _Bon Homme Richard_, and, says he, in his journal as
given by Buell, "was left flying when we abandoned her; the very last
vestige mortal 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." Here was: "the only flag," says one, "flying at the
bottom of the sea, over the only ship that ever sunk in victory."[1]
And everywhere,
The slender graceful spars
Poise aloft in the air
And at the masthead
White, blue, and red,
A flag unfolds, the Stripes and Stars.
Ah, when the wanderers, lonely, friendless,
In foreign harbors shall behold
That flag unrolled,
'Twill be as a friendly hand
Stretched out from native land,
Filling his heart with memories
Sweet and endless.
LONGFELLOW.
[1] In Preble's "History of the Flags of the United States," it is
given that when the _Bon Homme Richard_ was sinking the flag was
transferred to the _Serapis_, and was afterward presented by the
Marine Committee to James Bayard Stafford of the _Bon Homme Richard_
for meritorious services.
WHERE THE STARS AND STRIPES UNFURLED
BURGOYNE was in the enemy's country. He was cut off from reenforcements.
His very efforts to separate the colonies now recoiled upon his own
armies. He could neither advance nor retreat with safety. For two weeks
the opposing armies had stood opposite each other without fire. In
desperation the British general now hazarded another battle. After a
sustained and terrible struggle Burgoyne went down in defeat. His best
and bravest officers were lost and seven hundred of his men were killed.
General Frazer, beloved by every British soldier and respected by those
opposed to him, had fallen at the hands of one of Morgan's riflemen, of
whom it was said, they could strike an apple in mid-air and shoot out
every seed.
On the American side Benedict Arnold, although divested of his command,
had ridden to the front of his old regiment and became "the inspiring
genius of the battle." He charged right into the British lines and
received a severe wound. He received also the disapproval of General
Gates and the reprimand of Congress. The battle raged furiously until
nightfall, when the proud Briton who had boasted "the British never
retreat" fled under cover of the darkness. He gained the heights of
Saratoga, where he found himself completely hemmed in by the Americans.
With but three days' rations between his army and starvation, he was
forced to surrender. While he was holding consultation with his officers
concerning this, a cannon ball passed over the table at which they were
sitting, and, no doubt, hastened their conclusions.
Colonel Kingston was detailed to confer with the American general on
articles of capitulation. He was conducted blindfolded to General Gates
and with him arranged the formalities. The morning of October 17,
seventeen hundred and ninety-one British subjects became prisoners of
war. They marched to Fort Hardy on the banks of the Hudson and, in the
presence of Generals Morgan, Wilkerson, and Lewis, laid down their
arms. The eyes of many of the men were suffused with tears; others among
them stamped upon their muskets in anger.
The colors had been preserved to the British army through the foresight
of General Riedesel, who had handed them to his wife for safe-keeping.
To the credit of the victorious Americans, it is said, they showed no
disrespect to the defeated foe. "General Gates," wrote Lieutenant
Ansbury, one of the captured officers, "revealed exceeding nobleness and
generosity toward the captives, commanding the troops to wheel round the
instant arms were grounded. And he, himself, drew down the curtains of
the carriage in which he was sitting, as the troops passed him in
returning."
For the formal surrender of General Burgoyne to General Gates a marquee
had been erected near the latter's old quarters. To this came the
British general and staff in full court dress. General Gates appeared in
plain clothes with nothing to indicate his rank. As the two generals
advanced to greet each other, General Burgoyne removed his hat and
extending his sword, said, "The fortunes of war, General Gates, have
made me your prisoner." General Gates, not to be outdone in polite
address, returned the sword and replied, "I shall always be ready to
bear testimony that it has not been through any fault of your
Excellency."
[Illustration: THE SURRENDER OF GENERAL BURGOYNE.]
The generals and their officers then sat down to a table improvised of
boards laid across barrels and dined together most amicably, but on very
frugal fare. General Burgoyne took occasion to compliment the discipline
of the American army. He then proposed a toast to General Washington.
General Gates then drank to the health of the king. High above the
marquee the Stars and Stripes waved gloriously in triumph of the day of
first formal military unfurling. The turning point of the war of the
Revolution was come, this October day, 1777.
THE SURRENDER OF BURGOYNE
October 17, 1777
BROTHERS, this spot is holy! Look around!
Before us flows our memory's sacred river,
Whose banks are Freedom's shrines. This grassy mound,
The altar, on whose height the Mighty Giver
Gave Independence to our country; when,
Thanks to its brave, enduring, patient men,
The invading host was brought to bay and laid
Beneath "Old Glory's" new-born folds, the blade,
The brazen thunder-throats, the pomp of war,
And England's yoke, broken forevermore.
You, on this spot,--thanks to our gracious God,
Where last in conscious arrogance it trod,
Defied, as captives, Burgoyne's conquered horde;
Below, their general yielded up his sword;
There, to our flag, bowed England's battle-torn;
Where now we stand, the United States was born.
GENERAL JOHN WATTS DE PEYSTER.
THE YOKE OF BRITAIN BROKEN
THE final scene in this stupendous drama of American Freedom was enacted
in Virginia.
In September, 1781, Washington began a three weeks' siege against
Yorktown, held by the British under Lord Cornwallis. Finding himself
there completely surrounded by both land and water, Cornwallis was
forced to surrender.
Now was the yoke of Great Britain at last broken. Seven thousand English
and Hessian soldiers and eight hundred and forty sailors laid down their
arms and became prisoners of war.