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The Project Gutenberg eBook ofHow the Flag Became Old Glory

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Title: How the Flag Became Old Glory

Author: Mrs. Emma Look Scott

Illustrator: A. C. Valentine

Release date: January 20, 2009 [eBook #27853]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by K Nordquist, Emanuela Piasentini and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HOW THE FLAG BECAME OLD GLORY ***
How the Flag became Old Glory

HOW THE FLAG BECAME
OLD GLORY

The MacMillan Company

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

Old Glory
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.
[v]

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The author acknowledges her indebtedness tothe following authors and publishers for theircourtesy in allowing the use of copyright material:to Mr. Wallace Rice for “Wheeler’s Brigadeat Santiago”; to Mr. Charles Francis Adams for“Pine and Palm”; to Mr. Will Allen Dromgoolefor “Soldiers”; to Mr. John HowardJewett fora selection from “Rebel Flags”; to Mr. JohnTrotwood Moore for “Old Glory at Shiloh”; toMr. Henry Holcomb Bennett for “The Flag GoesBy”; to Mr. Clinton Scollard for “On the Eveof Bunker Hill”; to P. J. Kenedy and Sons for“The Conquered Banner” by Rev. Abram JosephRyan; to David MacKay for “Death of Grant”by Walt Whitman; to J. B. Lippincott Companyfor “The Cruise of the Monitor” byGeorge H.Boker; to B. F. Johnson Publishing Company,publishers of Timrod’s Memorial Volume, for[vi]“Charleston” by Henry Timrod; to the CenturyCompany for “Farragut” by William TuckeyMeredith; to Mr. Harry L. Flash and the NealePublishing Company for “Stonewall Jackson”by Henry Lynden Flash; to Mr. Will HenryThompson and G. P. Putnam’s Sons for “TheHigh Tide at Gettysburg”; to Mr. Isaac R.Sherwood and G. P. Putnam’s Sons for “AlbertSidney Johnston” by Kate Brownlee Sherwood;to Mrs. Benjamin Sledd and G. P. Putnam’s Sonsfor “United” by Benjamin Sledd. An extractfrom “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, “TheBuilding of the Ship” and “The Cumberland”by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “Yorktown”by John Greenleaf Whittier, “Fredericksburg”by Thomas Bailey Aldrich, “Kearny at SevenPines” by E. C. Stedman, and “Robert E. Lee”by Julia Ward Howe are printed by permissionof Houghton Mifflin Company.[vii]

CONTENTS

PAGE
The Flag Goes By1
Old Glory3
In the Light of the Old North Church19
Lexington23
On the Eve of Bunker Hill27
The Flag of Fort Stanwix31
The Knight of the Sea39
Where the Stars and Stripes Unfurled51
The Surrender of Burgoyne56
The Yoke of Britain Broken57
Yorktown60
From the Other Side62
The Star-Spangled Banner66
The Defense of the Crescent City68
The Civil War77
Charleston79
Fredericksburg81
Civil War82
’Round Shiloh Church84
Albert Sidney Johnston91[viii]
Old Glory at Shiloh96
The Flag of the Cumberland100
The Cumberland104
The Monitor107
The Cruise of the Monitor110
The Night of Chantilly114
Kearney at Seven Pines120
The Cavalry Charge122
An Immortal Twain125
Stonewall Jackson132
The High Tide at Gettysburg133
United138
Old Heart of Oak140
Farragut151
Pine and Palm154
The Conquered Banner157
The Conquered Banner159
Death of Grant162
Robert E. Lee164
Old Glory on the Island166
Wheeler’s Brigade at Santiago170
Soldiers172

HOW THE FLAG BECAME
OLD GLORY

[1]


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.[2]
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.
[3]

OLD GLORY

WHILE every American citizen recognizesthe significance of the term “Old Glory” asapplied to the national flag, when and where andby whom the nation’s emblem was christened withthis endearing and enduring sobriquet is a matterof historic interest less understood.

In the early epoch-making period of the nation’shistory William Driver, a lad of twelve years,native of Salem, Mass., begged of his motherpermission to go to sea. With her consent heshipped as cabin boy on the sailing vesselChina,bound for Leghorn, a voyage of eighteen months.

On this first voyage the courageous spirit ofthe youth manifested itself in a determinationto disprove the words of the ship’s owner, madeto him at the beginning of the voyage: “Allboys on their first voyage eat more than theyearn.”

In appreciation of the mettle shown by the[4]lad, the owner presented him, upon the returnfrom the cruise, with twenty-eight dollars insilver, besides his wages of five dollars per month.He carried the money to his mother, who wiselyadmonished him to do the very best he couldunder every circumstance, a charge he neverforgot.

His intrepid spirit brought the youthful marinerrapid and deserved promotion. His eighteenthyear found him master of a vessel. Thosewere hazardous days upon the sea, and morethan once his ship was subjected to indignityand outrage incident to seafaring of that period.But throughout a long career as master of amerchantman the Stars and Stripes was neverlowered from the masthead nor sullied by defeator by dishonor.

Captain William Driver.Captain William Driver.

The sailor, of all men, venerates his nation’sflag. To him it is the visible and tangible tokenof the government he serves, and in it he beholdsall the government’s strength and virtue. ToWilliam Driver, therefore, the Stars and Stripestypified the glory of the land and of the sea.And seeing his nation’s symbol float dauntless[6]and triumphant above stress of every encounterand happening upon the deep enkindled theinherent love in his heart for it to enthusiasticardor, and in thought he called the flag “OldGlory.”

A simple incident, but fraught with unreadmeaning, gave the name into the nation’s keep,albeit its formal christening and national adoptionwas not to come until the soil beneath its foldsshould be deep-dyed with the blood of conflictbetween the land’s own countrymen.

Original Flag.

Photo of Original Flag.
“Old Glory.”

In 1831, as master of the brigCharles Daggett,about to set sail for a voyage around the worldfrom Salem, Mass., Captain Driver was presentedby the citizens with a large bunting flag in commendationof his services upon the sea and hiswell-known love for his country’s emblem. Thisflag, when presented, was rolled in the form of atriangle, and the halyards bent. A young sailor,stepping forward, said: “In ancient times, whenan ocean voyage was looked upon with superstitiousdread, it was the custom on the eve ofdeparture to roll the banner in form of a triangle.When ready and bent like this, a priest stepped[8]forward and, taking the banner in his hand,sprinkled it with consecrated water and dedicatedit to ‘God the Father, God the Son, and Godthe Holy Ghost,’ turning the point of the triangleupward at the name of each, thus calling on thatsacred unity of Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifierto bless the national emblem and prosper thevoyagers and their friends. The flag thus consecratedwas then hoisted to the masthead.”

With glistening eyes the captain watched thehoisting of the flag; and as it fell into position atthe masthead of his ship and the colors unfurledto the breeze, he shouted: “I’ll call her OldGlory, boys, Old Glory!”

Cheer after cheer rent the air. The signals ofdeparture were sounded, the cables were castoff, and the good ship set sail for foreign ports.

This was the ninth and most memorable voyagemade by Captain Driver. From the islandof Tahiti he rescued the suffering descendants ofthe mutineers of the English shipBounty, and atrisk of grave considerations turned his vesselfrom her outlined course and returned them totheir beautiful and longed-for home, Pitcairn,[9]in the waters of the South Pacific, the settlementof an island, which marks one of the memorableevents of English naval history.

Captain Driver made his last voyage aroundthe globe in command of theBlack Warrior.At the masthead flew his Salem flag, Old Glory,to which he never referred but by that lovingpseudonym.

He left the sea in 1837 to become a resident ofNashville, Tenn. He carried Old Glory withhim as a sacred relic, carefully deposited in aheavy, brass-bound, camphorwood sea chest thathad accompanied him on all his voyages. Onlegal holidays, on St. Patrick’s day (which washis own birthday), and on days of especial celebrationin the Southern city Old Glory wasreleased from confinement and thrown to thelight from some window of the Driver residenceor hung on a rope across the street in a triumphalarch under which all processions passed.

At the outbreak of the civil strife CaptainDriver avowed his Union sympathies and stoodopenly for his convictions in the face of businesslosses, arrest, and threatened banishment.[11]

The ChestThe Chest in which “Old Glory” Rested.

Just after the secession of the State he daringlyflaunted his Old Glory flag from his window;then, fearing its confiscation (which his actionhad rendered liable), he procured a calico quiltof royal purple hue, and with the aid of twoneighboring women sewed it up between thecoverings and hid the quilt in his old sea chest.

Again and again the house was searched byConfederate soldiers for this flag, but withoutsuccess.

Under the purple Old Glory rested. Theflag of the Confederacy waved above the Capitol;and Nashville, in pride, prosperity, and splendor,basked in the promise of ultimate victory tothe Southland.

But to a rude awakening this fancied securitywas foredoomed. Suddenly, like the breakingof a terrific thunderclap above the city, camethe awesome cry: “Fort Donelson has fallen!”

Fort Donelson fallen meant Nashville’s subjection.Terror-stricken, the people rushed wildlyin every direction, and the most ill-foundedreports in the excitement gained ready credence.It was announced that General Buell would[12]speedily arrive and open his batteries from acrossthe river, and that gunboats would lay the cityin ruins. Some of the citizens urged the burningof the city, that no spoils might be left to theenemy.

The fine suspension bridge across the Cumberlandwas fired. The commissaries were thrownopen, and vast quantities of public stores, amountingto millions of dollars, were distributed amongthe inhabitants or destroyed. The archives ofthe State were hurriedly conveyed to Memphis.In the mad desire to escape an impending doomof whose nature they were wholly ignorant,residents vacated their houses and left pricelessfurnishings a prey to the invading army. Onfoot, on horseback, by wagon, by any availablemeans that best favored their flight, the crowdssurged out of the conquered city.

Notwithstanding the apprehensions of speedyhostilities, it was a week later before GeneralBuell was encamped in Edgefield, opposite thecity. To him the mayor formally surrenderedNashville. A proclamation was issued assuring theinhabitants of protection in person and property.[13]

Up the Cumberland steamed fifteen transportsand one gunboat—General Nelson’s wing ofthe Union army. From the levee came the clamorand shouts of men, the rattle of musketry, anddin of many feet. The Sixth Ohio was the firstregiment to land. Captain Driver was an interestedobserver of the scene. “Now,” said he,“hath the hour of Old Glory come!”

Lieutenant Thacher, of the Sixth, with a squadof soldiers, left the regiment and escorted CaptainDriver to his home, a few blocks distant. Theywrested Old Glory from its hiding place and, withthe old mariner bearing the flag in his arms,quickly rejoined the regiment.

Up the hill, amidst rattle of drum and soundingtrumpets, 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 highagainst the dome of the Statehouse. The strainsof “The Star-Spangled Banner” burst upon theear; and amid cheers and cries of “Old Glory!Old Glory!” that echoed to the distant hills theold sea flag unfurled and floated above the top[15]mostpinnacle of the Capitol of Tennessee.And thus Old Glory received her formal christening.

Capitol of TennesseeAmid cheers and cries of “Old Glory! Old Glory!” that echoed to the Distanthills the old sea flag unfurled and floated above the topmostpinnacle of the Capitol of Tennessee.

Swarming over the city, bent on various quests,went the victorious Federals. Not so the oldsailor. The revered flag, flaunting the colors sojoyously above his head once more, was far tooweather-beaten, he feared, to withstand long thestiff breeze blowing about the elevated site. Tornto ribbons it must not be, howsoever good thecause.

Quietly he watched and waited about thegrounds until after nightfall, when, under coverof the darkness, he again ascended the dome,rescued his beloved old flag, and swung in itsplace a big merino one that had figured as acampaign flag in 1840, when “Tippecanoe andTyler too” was the slogan of the Whig Party.He then carried Old Glory to his home and laidit tenderly away in the old sea locker so longdedicated to its use.

Very gradually thereafter the pleasing appellation,Old Glory, made its impress upon the speechof the populace, until, in the later nineties, the[16]“Hoosier Poet” was moved to expression inverse:

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 oldseaman answered not. For him had come thehigher summons.

Captain Driver’s death occurred in Nashvillein 1886. At the head of his grave, in the oldCity Cemetery, stands a unique monument of hisown designing. Upon an old tree trunk, in stone,appears a ship’s anchor and cable. At the topof the anchor is inscribed the beloved pseudonymof his heart’s own coinage, above him here, even[17]in his last sleep: “His ship, his country, and hisflag—Old Glory.” About his body when placedwithin the casket was wrapped a United Statesflag.

A few years prior to his death Captain Driverplaced his Old Glory flag in the hands of his elderdaughter, Mrs. Roland, of Wells, Nev., who wasthen on a visit to him, saying brokenly as heresigned it: “Take this flag and cherish it as Ihave done. I love it as a mother loves her child.It has been with me, and it has protected me inall parts of the world.”

Worn and faded and tattered, this flag is stillin the possession of Mrs. Roland; and in her farWestern home it is displayed on patriotic occasionsand the story of its naming repeated. Another,presumably the Whig flag herein mentioned, andthat, as has been shown, also flew over the Capitolof Tennessee, was sent by Captain Driver,upon request, to the Essex Institute, of Massachusetts.Some confusion has of late arisen inthe public mind regarding the identity of the twoflags, it having been generally believed that theoriginal Old Glory was the flag in the Massachusetts[18]Institute. This impression is, however, doubtlesserroneous.

Notwithstanding a somewhat brusque addressand a marked individuality of speech and action,Captain Driver was a man of warm and kindlynature. Although a stanch Unionist, he lent aready and willing hand to the suffering ones ofthe South. He married the first time MissMartha Babbage, of Salem, Mass. For hissecond wife he espoused a Southern woman,Sarah J. Parks, of Nashville, Tenn. Two ofhis sons bore arms in the Confederate service.One of these gave his life for the “lost cause.”


It remained for yet another conflict after thecivil strife to bring the name Old Glory intogeneral and popular use,for the blended ranksof the Blue and the Gray opposed a commonfoe. When the North and the South joined handsagainst a foreign power and floated the Stars andStripes above the emblem of Spain upon theisland of Cuba, the flag of the Union became OldGlory to every man of the nation.[19]

IN THE LIGHT OF THE OLD NORTH CHURCH

“History points no struggle for liberty which has in it moreof the moral sublime than that of the American Revolution.”

THEY were a godly people, these revolutionaryfathers of ours. They prayed as theythought; and they fought as they believed andprayed. They sought no quarrel with the mothercountry; they asked only independent action,considering themselves full grown in point ofknowledge of their needs and desires, althoughbut infants in age as compared with other subjectsof Great Britain.

When, therefore, Old England announced, “Youshall 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.[20]

The Old North Church.The Old North Church.

“If you can,” wasthe answer.

A British fleet thensailed into Bostonharbor, and Britishsoldiers swarmed overBoston town. Thisaction enraged thecitizens. It angeredthe “Sons of Liberty,”whose name is self-explanatoryandwhose slogan was“Liberty or Death,”and inspired them tomore vigorous effortstoward freedom fromBritain’s power. The“Minute Men” wereorganized and stoodready to the summons,ready at a minute’snotice to leaveforest, field, or fire[21]side,to take up arms in defense of their libertiesand their rights.

The spirit of dissension ran rife; and pettyaltercations between the British soldiers and thecitizens were of daily occurrence. A trivial happeningbrought about the Boston Massacre.A “Son of Liberty” and a British soldier disputedthe right of way of a street passage.

“Stand aside,” said the one.

“Give way,” said the other.

Neither would yield. Blows followed. Rocksflew. The soldiers marshaled and fired into thecrowd. Several citizens were killed. The townwas ablaze with excitement. And the governorhad finally to withdraw the troops from Boston.

When antagonism had abated in degree, KingGeorge devised new measures of taxation andstirred ill feeling again. Boston brewed Britishtea in the ocean. England disliked the taste ofit. The people were declared Rebels; and thecharter of Massachusetts was annulled by Parliament.Ten thousand British soldiers then cameover. Boston Neck was seized and fortified.The colonists were to be forced into obedience.[22]

Then from Lexington and Concord the signalsof 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 wasbut the natural sequence. Defeated though thepatriots were in this their first real battle, it wasa defeat that spelled for them ultimate victory.This they recognized dimly, but certainly, asthey knew that they had gone into battle with aprayer on their lips for themselves, for theirhomes, and their country. Their hearts werefired anew for freedom. Their arms would bestrengthened to their desires. As the lights fromthe belfry of Old North Church revealed to PaulRevere the route the British were to take againstthem in the memorable beginnings at Lexingtonand Concord, so the light from the Great Bookabove its chancel rail would direct them the waythey should go.[23]

The Battle of Lexington.The Battle of Lexington.

LEXINGTON

With one impulse the colonies sprung to arms; with onespirit they pledged themselves to each other, “to be ready forthe 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;[25]
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,[26]
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.
[27]

The Battle of Bunker Hill.The Battle of Bunker Hill.

ON THE EVE OF BUNKER HILL

The consequences of the battle of Bunker Hill were greaterthan those of any ordinary conflict. It was the first greatbattle of the Revolution, and not only the first blow, but theblow which determined the contest. When the sun of thatday went down, the event of independence was no longerdoubtful.

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.[29]
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,[30]
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.
[31]

THE FLAG OF FORT STANWIX

TRITE but true is the old adage that necessityis the mother of invention. The first flagthat flew over an American fort was constructedfrom an “ammunition shirt, a blue jacket capturedfrom the British, and a woman’s red petticoat.”

The garrison at Fort Stanwix (Fort Schuyler)had no flag; but it had possession of the fortdespite the siege of twenty days against it bythe British; and it had five British standardstaken from the enemy. So it improvised a flagand, with cheers and yells befitting the occasion,ran the British standards upside down upon theflag mast and swung the Stars and Stripes abovethem. The redcoats looked, and, it is safe toassert, laughed not, as to them the humor of thesituation was not appealing. But if they werelacking in the sense of humor, these sons of Old[32]England were not lacking in persistence, and theybesieged the fort with steady determination.

Fort Stanwix stood at the head of navigationof the Mohawk River and was an important featurein the plan of General Burgoyne to cut offNew England from the southern colonies and thuscontrol the whole country. Embarking upon thisexpedition, he had instructed his army: “Theservices required are critical and conspicuous.Difficulty, nor labor, nor life are to be regarded.The army must not retreat.” As he advanceddown the Hudson he swept everything beforehim. Ticonderoga, Mount Defiance, Whitehall,Fort Edward, each in turn fell: and he nowanticipated no successful resistance to his forces.

At the beginning of General Burgoyne’s invasiona force of Canadians, Hessians, New YorkTories, and Indians commanded by General St.Leger had been sent against Fort Stanwix. Thepost was held by General Gansevoort with someseven hundred and fifty men. They were ill suppliedwith ammunition and had few provisions.To Burgoyne defeat seemed here impossible. Thesiege had, however, been anticipated by the[33]garrison, and the men had determined to holdout to the last extremity.

Word was surreptitiously conveyed to ColonelWillett within the fort that General Herkimerwould set out with eight hundred volunteers toreënforce him and that a successful sortie mightbe made against the besiegers by acting in conjunctionwith General Herkimer’s forces. Thissortie was to be made when a certain signal wasgiven. But the best-laid plans, as we all havedoubtless learned by experience, are not alwaysdependable.

St. Leger in this case learned of Herkimer’sadvance and sent the savages under his commandto intercept and ambuscade him. A terriblehand-to-hand combat ensued in which a hundredand sixty of the colonists were killed and the lossto the Indians was as great. General Herkimer’shorse was shot under him and he himself woundedseverely in the leg. Notwithstanding his agonyhe insisted upon being placed with his back againsta tree for support, and therefrom he continuedto direct the battle. In the heat of the contesthe lighted his pipe and smoked.[34]

The further advance of the Americans to thesuccor of the fort was prevented, but ColonelWillett, in ignorance of this, made his sally fromthe fort at the hour appointed. Marvelous tostate, the British were taken wholly by surpriseand, having no time to form, fled. The Americanstook possession of their supplies and their standards,as before mentioned, and retired to the fort.

Failing to shell or starve them out, St. Legerthen began efforts to induce a surrender. Twoof his American prisoners were compelled towrite letters to the commandant at the fort,exaggerating the strength of the enemy andurging, 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 admittedto the fort. They were courteouslyreceived and, when they were seated, were profferedrefreshments. One of the officers thenpresented the message of General St. Leger, whichwas in substance a threat, couched in polite language,that if the fort was not surrendered, the[35]Indians would be turned loose upon the country,and not only the men but all the women andchildren would be tomahawked. Not one shouldescape. But if the garrison would capitulate,not only would these evils be averted, but noneof the garrison should be injured or made prisoners.

Colonel Willett arose. “I consider, Sir,” said he,“the message you bring a degrading one for aBritish officer to send and by no means reputablefor a British officer to carry. I would suffermy body to be filled with splinters and set onfire, and such outrages are not uncommon inyour army, before I would deliver this garrisonto your mercy. After you get out of it, neverexpect to enter it again unless you come as aprisoner.”

Provisions were running low, and some uneasinessbecame manifest in the fort. ColonelWillett, observing this, assured the men, “I willmake a sally in the night, if compelled by lackof supplies, and cut our way through the besiegersor die in the attempt.” The siege had now continuedmore than twenty days, when to the surpriseof the garrison it was suddenly raised.[36]This was due, it shortly appeared, to a ruse ofGeneral Arnold; Arnold the valiant, Arnold thetraitor.

Among the prisoners of Arnold was a younghalf-witted fellow who was condemned to death.His sorrowing mother never ceased her pleadingwith General Arnold for her son’s life. Accordinglyone day he proposed to her this expedient: Thather son, Hon Yost by name, should make hisway to Fort Stanwix and in some way so alarmthe British that they would raise the siege. Eagerlythe old mother promised this should be doneand offered herself as hostage for the fulfillmentof the mission. To this Arnold would not consent,but retained another son in her place.

Before starting on his errand, Hon Yost’sclothing was riddled with bullets to indicateescape from the Americans. Reaching the campof the Indians, he told in a mysterious way of apremeditated attack upon them and arousedtheir fears. St. Leger heard of his arrival andquestioned him. To St. Leger he related atouching story of his capture and miraculousescape from execution, and by signs, words, and[38][37]gestures made it appear that he was an emissaryof Providence to aid in their preservation. Canadians,Hessians, all became uneasy. When hewas asked the number of the Americans aboutto descend upon them, Hon Yost pointed to theleaves of the trees to indicate a legion. In hisefforts to terrorize he was ably seconded by ayoung Indian who had accompanied him. Panicseized the camps. In vain St. Leger strove toallay the frenzy. The result was precipitateflight.

Hon YostWhen he was asked the number of the Americansabout to descend upon them, Hon Yost pointed tothe leaves of the trees to indicate a legion.

It is given by one authority that St. Leger washimself becoming as apprehensive of his red-facedallies as he was of the enemy he was fighting.

The fears he had sought to instill in the mindsof the garrison were now returned upon his ownhead.[39]

THE KNIGHT OF THE SEA

(Our First European Salute)

INSEPARABLY connected with the Starsand Stripes must ever be the name of JohnPaul Jones.

The “Untitled Knight of the Sea,” the Duchessde Chartres—mother of Louis Philippe, afterwardKing of France; and granddaughter of ahigh admiral of France—was fond of callinghim. For albeit John Paul Jones was of Scotchpeasant ancestry, his associates were people ofthe highest intellect and rank. In appearancehe was handsome; in manner prepossessing;and in speech he was a linguist, having at easycommand the English, French, and Spanish languages.His surname was Paul. The nameJones was inherited with a fine plantation inAmerica.

The call of the sea was strong to the lad andof its dangers he had no fear. An old seaman[40]one day watched him handle a fishing yawl in aheavy storm and thought he could never weatherthe squall. “That is my son, John,” said hisfather calmly. “He will fetch her in all right.It is not much of a squall for him.” The mancomplimented the boy and offered him a berthon his ship then bound for America, little dreamingthat in so doing he would carry to the New Worldthe Father of the American Navy.

Studious and ambitious, the boy devoted hisleisure moments to acquiring the most intricateknowledge of his profession and soon held positionsof command. When the news of the battleof Lexington reached him, he offered his servicesto Congress. He was madeFirst Lieutenant ofthe Alfred, and over this ship hoisted the first emblemshown on an American naval vessel. The designof this flag was a pine tree with a rattlesnakecoiled at the roots and the motto, “Don’t treadon me,” on a background of yellow silk.

June 14th, 1777, was made notable in Americanannals by the resolution passed by Congress fora new flag. Embodied in the resolution the nameof John Paul Jones appears thus:[41]

“Resolved—That the flag of the ThirteenUnited States of America be Thirteen Stripes,alternate Red and White; that the Union beThirteen Stars on a Blue Field; Representing aNew Constellation:

“Resolved—That Captain John Paul Jonesbe appointed to command the shipRanger.”

Paul Jones’ remarks upon the resolutions weresignificant: “The flag and I are twins; born thesame hour from the same womb of destiny. Wecannot be parted in life or in death. So long aswe can float we shall float together. If we mustsink, we shall go down as one.”

Before theRanger was launched, Jones wasinformed that he was to be the bearer of mostimportant news to France. This news was thedaily expected surrender of Burgoyne, the surrenderthat was so powerfully to affect the resultof the war for independence. As to his fitnessfor conveying such a message, Lafayette attestedthus: “To captivate the French fancy, CaptainJones possesses, far beyond any other officerin your service, that peculiar aplomb, grace ofmanner, charm of person, and dash of char[42]acter,”a compliment better understood whenit is remembered that an alliance with Franceagainst Great Britain was then sought by Congress.

TheRanger lay in the harbor of Portsmouth,New Hampshire, ready for sailing, and Joneswith 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 theAmerican navy by the capture of prizes in Americanwaters; now he was to serve his country’sinterests off the coast of England.

The tang of autumn was in the air when he setsail for France. Fulfilling his mission at Nantes,Jones set out for Brest, where the fleet of Francewas anchored. Would the Stars and Stripes, thesymbol of the New Republic across the sea, berecognized by salute? The question was in everymind aboard ships, and the answer eagerly awaitedin the United States. A note couched in thediplomatic and elegant terms of which Paul Joneswas master, was sent by him to the admiral ofthe French fleet, inquiring whether or not theflag would receive recognition. “It will,” came[43]back the answer. With that theRanger glidedgracefully 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 firstsalute from European powers. We, even afterthe long lapse of intervening years, feel still thethrill of her exultation.

Two months later the alliance between Americaand France was signed. The Duchess de Chartresbecame greatly interested in the young navalofficer; and, having it in her power to advancehis interests, she one day at a dinner presentedhim with a fine Louis Quintze watch that hadbelonged to her grandfather, saying, “He hatedthe English; and I love the Americans.”

Paul Jones’ response to the gift was as gracefulas had been the presentation. “May it pleaseyour Royal Highness, if fortune should favor meat sea, I will some day lay an English frigate atyour feet.” Two years later he did this andmore.

France had promised Jones a new ship bettersuited to his capabilities than theRanger. Butdiplomatic affairs between nations move slowly,[44]and in this case the waiting became tedious.Jones had exhausted the pleasures of courtcircles to which he had been admitted and helonged for the life of the sea. He finally preferredhis request directly to the king and shortlyafterward was given, not the great sea monsterhe had been led to expect, but an insignificantlooking craft calledLe Duras. In compliment toDr. Franklin’s magazine of the name and in humorouscomment of the ship’s appearance, he renamedit theBon Homme Richard, meaning thePoor Richard. But with thePoor Richard, aswith the human form, the spirit which animatedit was the controlling power; and the valor ofPaul Jones was to send the name of theBon HommeRichard ringing down through the ages of alltime.

As Captain Jones of theRanger, he had capturedtheDrake, in a big sea fight, and surprisedEngland; and now, as Commodore Jones, hewas to win distinction as the greatest of navalheroes.

Off the English coast at Flamborough Head,he sighted an English fleet. The flagship was[45]theSerapis, in command of Captain Pearson.As theBon Homme Richard approached theSerapis, Captain Pearson raised his glass andremarked: “That is probably Paul Jones. Ifso, there is work ahead.”

The salute affectionate between the vessels,after the formal hail, was a broadside. Thenthey fought, fought like fiends incarnate, clinchedin each other’s arms, in the death grapple,fought without flinching and, be it said, to theglory of the American navy and the credit ofthe English. TheBon Homme was on fire andsinking. 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 theSerapis, andstood, himself, at the guns.

“Shall we be quitting, Jamie?” he said inbanter to a Scotchman at his side.

“There is still a shot in the locker, Sir,” repliedthe Scot.

“I thought,” said Captain Pearson afterward,“Jones’ answer to me meant mere bravado.[46]But I soon perceived that it was the defiance of aman desperate enough, if he could not conquer,to sink with his ship.”

TheBon Homme Richard’s sides were shotaway; her prisoners loose; her decks strewn withthe dead and dying; theAlliance, her companionship, had turned traitor and fired into her. Whenthe fight seemed well-nigh lost, a well-directedblow brought disaster to theSerapis, and shehauled down her colors. As Captain Pearsonsurrendered his sword, Commodore Jones remarked,“You have fought heroically, Sir. Itrust your sovereign may suitably reward you.”To this Captain Pearson returned no answer.

The wonderful combat on the sea became thetalk of all Europe. Paul Jones’ name was honoredwherever spoken. Contrary to court etiquette,he was invited to occupy apartments in the palaceof the Duke and Duchess de Chartres. While hewas there, a banquet was tendered him. Duringthe progress of the dining, he called an attendantto bring from his apartment a leather case.This when it was opened disclosed a sword.Turning to the duchess, the commodore asked[48]if she recalled his promise to lay a frigate at herfeet one day? “Your Royal Highness perceives,”he went on, “the impossibility of keeping mypromise in kind. The English frigate provedto be a 44 on two decks; the best I can do towardkeeping my word of two years ago, is to placein your hands the sword of the brave officer whocommanded the English 44. I have the honor tosurrender to the loveliest woman the swordsurrendered to me by one of the bravest of men,—thesword of Captain Richard Pearson, of hisBritannic Majesty’s late ship theSerapis.”

Paul Jones“I have the honor to surrender to the loveliestwoman the sword surrendered to me by one of thebravest of men.”

The Royal Order of Military Merit with thetitle of Chevalier and the gift of a gold-mountedsword were conferred upon him by the king ofFrance. Upon returning to America, he wasgiven the rank of Head of the Navy.

Remarkable as was the career of Paul Jones,the winds did not always set in his favor. Manytimes was his life bark driven through thewaters of bitter disappointment. But “all thathe was, and all that he did, and all that he knew,was the result of self-help to a degree unexampledin the histories of great men.[49]

The flag of theRanger, saluted by the Frenchfleet, was transferred by Jones to theBon HommeRichard, and, says he, in his journal as given byBuell, “was left flying when we abandoned her;the very last vestige mortal ever saw of theBonHomme Richard was the defiant waving of herunconquered and unstricken flag as she wentdown. And as I had given them the good oldship for their sepulcher, I now bequeathed to myimmortal dead the Flag they had so desperatelydefended, for their winding sheet.” Here was:“the only flag,” says one, “flying at the bottomof the sea, over the only ship that ever sunk invictory.”[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,[50]
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,” itis given that when theBon Homme Richard was sinking the flagwas transferred to theSerapis, and was afterward presentedby the Marine Committee to James Bayard Stafford of theBon Homme Richard for meritorious services.[51]

WHERE THE STARS AND STRIPES UNFURLED

BURGOYNE was in the enemy’s country.He was cut off from reënforcements. Hisvery efforts to separate the colonies now recoiledupon his own armies. He could neither advancenor retreat with safety. For two weeks the opposingarmies had stood opposite each otherwithout fire. In desperation the British generalnow hazarded another battle. After a sustainedand terrible struggle Burgoyne went down indefeat. His best and bravest officers were lostand seven hundred of his men were killed. GeneralFrazer, beloved by every British soldier andrespected by those opposed to him, had fallenat the hands of one of Morgan’s riflemen, of whomit was said, they could strike an apple in mid-airand shoot out every seed.

On the American side Benedict Arnold, althoughdivested of his command, had ridden to[52]the front of his old regiment and became “theinspiring genius of the battle.” He chargedright into the British lines and received a severewound. He received also the disapproval ofGeneral Gates and the reprimand of Congress.The battle raged furiously until nightfall, when theproud Briton who had boasted “the Britishnever retreat” fled under cover of the darkness.He gained the heights of Saratoga, where he foundhimself completely hemmed in by the Americans.With but three days’ rations between his armyand starvation, he was forced to surrender. Whilehe was holding consultation with his officersconcerning this, a cannon ball passed over thetable at which they were sitting, and, no doubt,hastened their conclusions.

Colonel Kingston was detailed to confer with theAmerican general on articles of capitulation.He was conducted blindfolded to General Gatesand with him arranged the formalities. Themorning of October 17, seventeen hundred andninety-one British subjects became prisoners ofwar. They marched to Fort Hardy on the banksof the Hudson and, in the presence of Generals[53]Morgan, Wilkerson, and Lewis, laid down theirarms. The eyes of many of the men weresuffused with tears; others among them stampedupon their muskets in anger.

The colors had been preserved to the Britisharmy through the foresight of General Riedesel,who had handed them to his wife for safe-keeping.To the credit of the victorious Americans, it issaid, they showed no disrespect to the defeated foe.“General Gates,” wrote Lieutenant Ansbury, oneof the captured officers, “revealed exceedingnobleness and generosity toward the captives,commanding the troops to wheel round theinstant arms were grounded. And he, himself,drew down the curtains of the carriage in whichhe was sitting, as the troops passed him in returning.”

For the formal surrender of General Burgoyneto General Gates a marquee had been erected nearthe latter’s old quarters. To this came theBritish general and staff in full court dress. GeneralGates appeared in plain clothes with nothingto indicate his rank. As the two generals advancedto greet each other, General Burgoyne[55]removed his hat and extending his sword, said,“The fortunes of war, General Gates, have mademe your prisoner.” General Gates, not to be outdonein polite address, returned the sword andreplied, “I shall always be ready to bear testimonythat it has not been through any fault ofyour Excellency.”

General BurgoyneThe Surrender of General Burgoyne.

The generals and their officers then sat downto a table improvised of boards laid across barrelsand dined together most amicably, but on veryfrugal fare. General Burgoyne took occasion tocompliment 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 Stripeswaved gloriously in triumph of the day offirst formal military unfurling. The turningpoint of the war of the Revolution was come,this October day, 1777.[56]

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.
[57]

THE YOKE OF BRITAIN BROKEN

THE final scene in this stupendous dramaof American Freedom was enacted inVirginia.

In September, 1781, Washington began a threeweeks’ siege against Yorktown, held by the Britishunder Lord Cornwallis. Finding himself therecompletely surrounded by both land and water,Cornwallis was forced to surrender.

Now was the yoke of Great Britain at lastbroken. Seven thousand English and Hessiansoldiers and eight hundred and forty sailors laiddown their arms and became prisoners of war.

The formal ceremony of surrender was to takeplace in an open field the last day of October.Thousands of spectators assembled to beholdthe detested Cornwallis surrender the army theyhad hated and feared.

The Americans, commanded by General Washingtonin full uniform, and the French troops,[58]under Count Rochambeau, were drawn up in twolines. At length a splendid charger issued throughthe gate, bearing not the hated Cornwallis asexpected, but General O’Hara. So overcome wasLord Cornwallis with the consciousness of hisdefeat by the “raw Americans,” that, feigningillness, he refused to appear.

The British troops in new uniforms, in strikingcontrast to the worn and faded garb of the colonists,followed the officer with colors furled. Comingopposite General Washington, O’Hara salutedand presented the sword of Cornwallis. A tensesilence pervaded the assembly. General Washingtonmotioned that the sword be given to GeneralLincoln. Apparently forgetful of the indignitiesheaped upon him by the British at Charleston,the latter returned the sword to General O’Hara,remarking as he did so, “Kindly return it to hisLordship, Sir.”

“Ground arms” came the order from theBritish officers. The troops complied sullenly;the humiliation felt by them in their defeat waseverywhere apparent.

The next day the conquered army marched out[59]of Yorktown between the American and Frenchtroops. Their fifers, with a brave show of humor,played, “The World’s turned Upside Down.”Washington had directed his soldiers to show nodisrespect nor unkindness to the defeated troops.But the remembrance of “Yankee Doodle,” asplayed by the Britons in their times of conquest,in taunting derision of the Americans, provedtoo much for the latter to endure without return,when supreme occasion such as this offered. Tothe strains of “Yankee Doodle Do,” from Americanfifes, Lord Cornwallis and his army badeadieu to the scenes wherein they had once marchedas conquerors.

In thanksgiving to God was voiced the nation’sexultation. Congress adjourned the sessions andthe members repaired to church to give thanks;business was suspended in all places. Throughoutthe land the voice of the people was raisedin a mighty chorus of prayer and praise to theAlmighty.[60]

YORKTOWN

FROM Yorktown’s ruins, ranked and still,
Two lines stretch far o’er vale and hill:
Who curbs his steed at head of one?
Hark! the low murmur: Washington!
Who bends his keen, approving glance
Where down the gorgeous line of France
Shine knightly star and plume of snow?
Thou too art victor, Rochambeau!

The earth which bears this calm array
Shook with the war-charge yesterday;
Plowed deep with hurrying hoof and wheel,
Shot down and bladed thick with steel;
October’s clear and noonday sun
Paled in the breath-smoke of the gun;
And down night’s double blackness fell,
Like a dropped star, the blazing shell.
Now all is hushed:the gleaming lines
Stand moveless as the neighboring pines;
While through them, sullen, grim, and slow,
The conquered hosts of England go;[61]
O’Hara’s brow belies his dress,
Gay Tarleton’s troops ride bannerless;
Shout from the fired and wasted homes,
Thy scourge, Virginia, captive comes!
Nor thou alone: with one glad voice
Let all thy sister States rejoice:
Let Freedom, in whatever clime
She waits with sleepless eye her time,
Shouting from cave and mountain wood
Make glad her desert solitude,
While they who hunt her, quail with fear;
The New World’s chain lies broken here!

Whittier.
[62]

FROM THE OTHER SIDE

(1812)

THE year 1812 witnessed our second warwith Great Britain. In an effort to preventemigration from her shores England claimedthe right to seize any of her subjects upon anyvessel of the high seas. America denied herright to do this on American ships. Disagreementbroke into open rupture. War with themother country was again declared.

The doughty American seamen would not waitfor attack upon them, but went forth aggressivelyagainst the squadron of the British. Oddlyenough, considering the condition of the poorlyequipped navy, they were remarkably successfuland captured more than two hundred and fiftyprizes. The following year, however, the Britishgained the ascendency, and in 1814 came in withsea force and land force and sacked and burned[63]the Capitol at Washington and all public buildingsexcept the patent office.

They then proceeded against Baltimore. Theland troops were almost in sight of the city of theirdesires, when they were halted and held in checkby American troops under General Sticker, whosename, it may be said, meant as it sounded, andwho effectually prevented their further advance.But the fleet on the waters sailed into the bay ofBaltimore and up to Fort McHenry at the mouthof the Patapsco River, in the determination tobombard the fortress and compel entrance to thecity in that way. The British admiral hadboasted the fort would fall to his hand an easyprey.

Prior to this, Dr. William Beane, a citizen ofBaltimore and a non-combatant, had been capturedat Marlboro and was held a prisoner onone of the vessels of the British fleet. To securehis release, Francis Scott Key and John Skinnerset out from Baltimore on the shipMindenflying a flag of truce. The British admiralreceived them kindly and released Dr. Beane;but detained the three on board ship pending[65]the bombardment of the fort, lest in their returnto land the intentions of the British might befrustrated.

Francis Scott KeyFrom sunrise to sunset they watched the shot andshell poured into the fort and noted with infinitejoy that the flag still flew.

Thus from the side of the enemy they wereconstrained to witness the efforts of destructionurged against the protecting fortress of their owncity. From sunrise to sunset they watched theshot and shell poured into the fort and notedwith infinite joy that the flag still flew. Throughthe glare of the artillery, as the night advanced,they caught now and then the gleam of the flagstill flying. Would it be there at another sunrise?Who could tell! Suddenly the cannonadingceased. The British, despairing of carrying thefort, abandoned the project. In the emotion ofthe hour and inspiration born of the victory, Keycomposed the immortal lines now become ournational anthem, “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

The flag is preserved in the museum of Washingtonand is distinctive in having fifteen stripesand fifteen stars, one of the very few national flagswith this number.[66]

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER

OH, say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming;
Whose broad stripes and bright stars thro’ the perilous fight
O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;
Oh, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze o’er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?[67]
Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream;
’Tis the star-spangled banner; oh, long may it wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
And where is that land who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps’ pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave;
And the star-spangledbanner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and wild war’s desolation;
Blest with vict’ry and peace may the Heaven-rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: “In God is our trust!”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

Francis Scott Key.
[68]

THE DEFENSE OF THE CRESCENT CITY

UPON every recurrence of January theeighth, the city of New Orleans dons galaattire and shouts herself hoarse with rejoicing.She chants theTe Deum in her Cathedrals;and lays wreaths of immortelles and garlands ofroses and sweet-smelling shrubs upon the monumentof Andrew Jackson in Jackson Square.

“The Saviour of New Orleans,” the inhabitantscalled Jackson in the exuberance of their gratitudefor his defense of the city, and their deliverancefrom threatened peril, that fateful day ofJanuary, 1815. From capture and pillage anddivers evil things he saved her, and the CrescentCity has not forgotten.

Neither indeed has the nation become unmindfulof his great achievement, but upon each succeedinganniversary of the battle of New Orleans—thatremarkable battle that gloriously endedthe War of 1812, and restored the national pride[69]and honor so sorely wounded by the fall of Washington—celebratesthe event in the chief citiesof the United States.

During our second clash of arms with England,the Creek War, wherein the red man methis doom, brought Jackson’s name into prominence.At one bound, as it were, he sprangfrom comparative obscurity into renown.

In 1814 he was appointed a major general inthe United States army, and established his headquartersat Mobile. He repulsed the Englishat Fort Bowyer, on Mobile Point, and awaitedorders from Washington to attack them atPensacola, where, through the sympathy of theSpaniards who were then in possession of theFlorida peninsula, they had their base of operations.

Receiving no orders from Washington, he becameimpatient of delay, and upon his own responsibilitymarched his troops against Pensacolaand put the British to flight. “This,” saysSumner, “was the second great step in the war inthe Southwest.”

Washington had been captured and her princi[70]palpublic buildings burned, and New Orleans,the Crescent City, would now, it was thought,be the next point of attack by the British.

To New Orleans, therefore, “to defend a defenselesscity, which had neither fleets nor forts,means nor men,” came Jackson.

His entrance into the city was quiet and unostentatiousand so devoid of the pomp andpageantry of a victorious general as to causequestion in the minds of some as to whether ornot this was the man expected. His dress wasplain in the extreme, and bore upon it no insigniaof rank; yet those there were, of insight, who sawin his every aspect the man of power.

From eye and posture and gesture emanated acertain indefinable force that attracted men tohim, and created in them an enthusiasm for hiscause. Old and young who came under hisinfluence were ready to do his bidding.

To the terrified women and children of NewOrleans who appealed to him for protection fromthe enemy, he replied:—

“The British shall not enter the city exceptover my dead body.[71]

His words and his presence inspired confidence.And when his flag was run up above his headquartersin Royal Street a sense of security wasfelt by the inhabitants.

The conditions about him, however, werefar from promising, and to a less determinedspirit than that of Jackson would have beenappalling.

The troops under him were few in number andpoorly equipped for battle. The Crescent Citywas ill equipped for defense. The governorand the Legislature were at loggerheads.

As was his way in a crisis, General Jackson tookmatters into his own hands.

He placed the city under martial law andmade every man a sailor or a soldier compelledto the restrictions and the rules governing thearmy.

He was aware that his action was open to severecensure, but in the face of the object to be attainedhe held this as of little consequence.

While engaged in examining a situation for afortification in one direction, the British effecteda landing in another. They had captured the[72]American flotilla guarding the entrance to LakeBorgne and were making ready to advance uponthe city.

This information brought consternation to theinhabitants but not to the indomitable Jackson.Obstacles to him were but objects to be overcome.He swung his troops into line and went out tomeet the enemy. The advance was checkedby a sharp engagement with little loss to eitherside.

He then set the little schoonerCarolina,in the Mississippi, to bombarding the levee wherethe British gunners had taken refuge. Withher guns continuously roaring she kept the Britishersat bay for three whole days, when she succumbedto their heavy fire and exploded. Herentire crew escaped with the exception of oneman killed and six wounded.

On the field of Chalmette, a few miles belowNew Orleans, the opposing armies threw upintrenchments from the same soft ooze and mud,so close they now stood to each other. From anupper room of the McCarte mansion house—thehome of a wealthy Creole—General Jackson[73]surveyed the operations of the enemy; anddirected the movements of his own troops.

December the 28th an advance was made bythe British on the American lines but withoutsignificant results. On New Year’s Day anotherattack was made.

In the interim between these assaults wentout an order from General Jackson to GovernorClaiborne that involved the general for years thereafterin legal complications with the LouisianaLegislature. News was borne to General Jacksonon the field that the Legislature was preparingto capitulate New Orleans in the belief that thecity would be captured.

“Tell Claiborne,” said the irate Jackson, “toblow them up.”

Later, he wrote to Governor Claiborne, in casethe report was true, to place a guard at thedoor of the legislative hall and keep the membersin it; where they could, he satirically remarkedto a friend, have full time to make some wholesomelaws for the State without distraction fromoutside matters.

Through mistake in the execution of the order,[74]the enraged lawmakers were kept outside of theassembly hall instead of in it, and the session wasbroken up.


At break of dawn that memorable day of January8th, 1815, the British were prepared to attack.

Jackson and his valorous volunteers wereready. A pygmy force were they against a mightyone! Raw recruits contending against the trainedveterans of Wellington’s army, led by the gallantPakenham!

The signal rocket went up.

The long red lines advanced over the field.

But to what a fate!

“Don’t shoot till you can see the whites of theireyes!”—Jackson had instructed.

Fire!

When the smoke cleared, British soldiers, deadand dying, thickly strewed the ground.

Intrenched behind their barricades of cottonbales and sand and mud, the Americans werescarcely touched.

The murderous fire went on.

The British columns reeled and broke.[75]

GeneralPakenham heroically waved his troopsforward and fell, wounded to death.

General Gibbs, second in command, was struckdown.

General Keane was disabled.

The leaders were fallen! The troops weredisordered.

In the distance the red lines receded.

Jackson had won.


In less than thirty minutes the unequal conflicthad ended, save in the silencing of the guns,which required two hours to accomplish.

Never in the annals of history has such a victorybeen recorded.

The loss to the English was two thousandkilled, wounded, and captured. The Americanloss was but eight killed and thirteen wounded.

General Jackson marched his victorious troopsinto New Orleans, where he was received with thewildest enthusiasm.

The whole country applauded and rejoiced.

Andrew Jackson had become the Hero of theNation.[76]

At Ghent, two weeks before the battle, theTreaty of Peace between England and the UnitedStates had been signed; but the ship bearing thenews had not then reached this country.

But—Jackson had finished the war—had“finished the war inGlory![77]

THE CIVIL WAR

(1861)

THE War between the States in 1861 wasone of the most terrible conflicts known tomodern times.

Many causes led up to it, chief among whichwas a difference in the interpretation of theConstitution by the people of the North and ofthe South. The slavery question was also apoint of dispute; and several minor causesbrought about a dissension in the two sectionsthat resulted in the gigantic struggle of friendagainst friend, brother against brother, fatheragainst son.

The early engagements of the contending forceswere ones of signal victory to the South. Thedisunion of the nation was so seriously threatenedas to bring grave concern to the Federal government.As the weeks and months wore away,[78]victory perched above the banner of the Federals,and the climax was reached in the surrender ofGeneral Lee at Appomattox, after four years ofdeadly strife.

Both sides fought valiantly. Both won; inthat the glory of the Republic was to standhenceforth supreme among foreign nations, thegreatness of the combatants to receive a recognitionnever to be effaced.

Through a perspective of fifty years of peace,the heroism displayed on either field by thoseengaged therein is, to the most partisan observer,silhouetted upon the mental vision in glowinglines of light. Justly we term it “Our mostHeroic Period.”

Not the least remarkable of this aftermath,transcending all experiences of other nations, isthe brotherhood, the kindly feeling of sympathyand understanding, that after the passage ofbut half a century now binds the once warringsections in indissoluble bonds of unity.[79]

CHARLESTON

CALM as that second summer which precedes
The first fall of the snow,
In the broad sunlight of heroic deeds,
The city bides the foe.

As yet, behind their ramparts, stern and proud,
Her bolted thunders sleep,—
Dark Sumter, like a battlemented cloud,
Looms o’er the solemn deep.
No Calpe frowns from lofty cliff or scaur
To guard the holy strand;
But Moultrie holds in leash her dogs of war
Above the level sand.
And down the dunes a thousand guns lie couched,
Unseen, beside the flood,—
Like tigers in some Orient jungle crouched,
That wait and watch for blood.
Meanwhile, through streets still echoing with trade,
Walk grave and thoughtful men,
Whose hands may one day wield the patriot’s blade
As lightly as the pen.[80]
And maidens, with such eyes as would grow dim,
Over a bleeding hound,
Seem each one to have caught the strength of him
Whose sword she sadly bound.
Thus girt without and garrisoned at home,
Day patient following day,
Old Charleston looks from roof and spire and dome,
Across her tranquil bay.
Ships, through a hundred foes, from Saxon lands
And spicy Indian ports,
Bring Saxon steel and iron to her hands,
And summer to her courts.
But still, along yon dim Atlantic line,
The only hostile smoke
Creeps like a harmless mist above the brine,
From some frail floating oak.
Shall the spring dawn, and she, still clad in smiles,
And with an unscathed brow,
Rest in the strong arms of her palm-crowned isles,
As fair and free asnow?
We know not; in the temple of the Fates
God has inscribed her doom:
And, all untroubled in her faith, she waits
The triumph or the tomb.

Henry Timrod.
[81]

FREDERICKSBURG

Dec. 13, 1862

THE increasing moonlight drifts across my bed,
And on the church-yard by the road, I know
It falls as white and noiselessly as snow.
’Twas such a night two weary summers fled;
The stars, as now, were waning overhead.
Listen! Again the shrill-lipped bugles blow
Where the swift currents of the river flow
Past Fredericksburg: far off the heavens are red
With sudden conflagration: on yon height,
Linstock in hand, the gunners hold their breath:
A signal-rocket pierces the dense night,
Flings its spent stars upon the town beneath:
Hark! the artillery massing on the right,
Hark! the black squadrons wheeling down to Death!

Thomas Bailey Aldrich.
[82]

CIVIL WAR[2]

"RIFLEMAN, shoot me a fancy shot
Straight at the heart of yon prowling vidette;
Ring me a ball in the glittering spot
That shines on his breast like an amulet!”

“Ah, Captain! here goes for a fine-drawn bead,
There’s music around when my barrel’s in tune!”
Crack! went the rifle, the messenger sped,
And dead from his horse fell the ringing dragoon.
“Now, rifleman, steal through the bushes, and snatch
From your victim some trinket to handsel first blood;
A button, a loop, or that luminous patch
That gleams in the moon like a diamond stud!”
“O, Captain! I staggered, and sunk on my track,
When I gazed on the face of that fallen vidette,
For he looked so like you, as he lay on his back,
That my heart rose upon me, and masters me yet.[83]
“But I snatched off the trinket,—this locket of gold;
An inch from the center my lead broke its way,
Scarce grazing the picture, so fair to behold,
Of a beautiful lady in bridal array.”
“Ha! Rifleman, fling me the locket!—’tis she,
My brother’s young bride, and the fallen dragoon
Was her husband—Hush! soldier, ’twas Heaven’s decree,
We must bury him there, by the light of the moon!
“But hark! the far bugles their warnings unite;
War is a virtue,—weakness a sin;
There’s a lurking and loping around us to-night;
Load again, rifleman, keep your hand in!”

Charles DawsonShanly.

[2] The above has been sometimes entitled “The FancyShot.” It appeared first in a London weekly and is commonlyattributed to Charles Dawson Shanly, who died in the lateseventies.[84]

’ROUND SHILOH CHURCH

WITHIN Shiloh Church that fateful dayof 1862, no sound of song or praise washeard. But all without the leaden missiles rangand sang in chorus of red death. Green bladesof grass, dew-tipped, sprang up to greet the sunthat April morn, but ere night fell were bowed toearth with weight of human blood. Ne’er beforehad little church looked out on such a scene.Ten thousand homes and hearts of North andSouth were there made desolate; and twice tenthousand men gave up their lives. The worldlooked on and wondered.

Albert Sidney Johnston, the hero of threewars, had staked his life and cause that Aprilday, for victory or defeat.

He met—both.

It was recognized by both the Northern andSouthern armies that Johnston was a formidableantagonist. That he was a man of most magneticpersonality as well as a brave officer.[85]

Where he led men followed.

The Black Hawk War made his name familiarthroughout the country. In the War with Mexicohe won distinction.

As he reviewed his troops at Shiloh, he beheldon every side his friends of other days,and men who had served under him on otherfields.

When the War between the States came on,Johnston was a brigadier general in the UnitedStates Army; and although he was offered anyposition he might desire with the Federal government,he resigned to cast his lot with the South,and against the land of his ancestry, for he was ason of Connecticut. Texas had been his home,and to the Lone Star State he felt his allegiancedue.

Disappointment, as pertained to his life ambitions,had often before waited upon his footstepswhen the thing desired seemed ready tohis grasp. Yet, seeing his duty clearly, hedid it.

To his sister by marriage, when she, in surpriseat his action in resigning, wrote him in California,[86]where he was then stationed, he replied that hewas deeply sensible of the “calamitious condition”of the country; and that whatever his part thereafterregarding it, he congratulated himself thatno act of his had aided in bringing it about; thatthe adjustment of the difficulties by the swordwas not in his judgment the remedy.

Secession was to him a grievous thing.

Arriving at Richmond from the West, GeneralJohnston was given the command of the WesternDepartment of the Confederacy.

From September to February, 1862, he held theline against heavy odds at Bowling Green, Ky.,when he retreated to Corinth, Miss., where heassembled his entire army and attacked Grantat Shiloh Church near Pittsburg Landing,Tenn.

In the flush tide of a great victory, he wasstruck by a Minie ball and expired in a fewmoments.

He rode a magnificent black animal called“Fire-eater.” On horseback General Johnstonappeared to distinct advantage. The masterlymanner in which he sat his horse attracted the[87]attention of the commander in chief of the army,Thomas J. Rusk, during the Texan Revolution,and procured him the appointment of adjutantgeneral over several eager aspirants for theposition.

As he passed along the lines to the front of thetroops at Shiloh, he raised his hat and cried out,

“I will lead you!”

To this the men responded with a mighty cheerand quickened movement, albeit they knew hewas leading many of them to death.

Hard up the slopes they pressed.

Nor shot, nor shell, nor falling men deterredthem.

The summit was reached. The Federals werein retreat. A little apart from the others, a finetarget for the deadly marksman, the figure ofGeneral Johnston on “Fire-eater” was plainlyvisible.

His clothing was torn in places. His boot solewas slashed by a ball, but he himself was uninjured.

In his countenance was reflected a satisfactionof the day’s results.[88]

General JohnstonFrom the last line of the retreating Federals a bulletwhistled back, whistled back and cut him down.

[89]

The wisdom of his decisions had been proven;his judgment justified.

From the last line of the retreating Federals abullet whistled back, whistled back and cut himdown, did its fatal work in the very moment inwhich he felt the conviction that success nowlay with the Confederate cause.


His death seemed for a time to paralyze thefurther efforts of his troops, to whom his presencehad been a continual inspiration.

General Beauregard took command.

Night fell and the battle was stayed.

The Federals had been driven to the banks ofthe Tennessee River, where the gunboats affordedbut meager protection.

From Nashville, General Buell arrived beforedaybreak with the needed reënforcements. LewWallace came in. Grant assumed the offensive;and the afternoon of the second day of the hard-foughtcontest the final victory swept to theFederals.

What would have been the result to the Confederatecause had the great leader not fallenthat first day, who can say?[90]

“In his fall, the great pillar of the SouthernConfederacy was crushed,” says Jefferson Davisin hisRise and Fall of the Confederate Government,“and beneath its fragments the best hopeof the Southland lay buried.[91]

ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON

I HEAR again the tread of war go thundering through the land,
And Puritan and Cavalier are clinching neck and hand,
Round Shiloh church the furious foes have met to thrust and slay,
Where erst the peaceful sons of Christ were wont to kneel and pray.

The wrestling of the ages shakes the hills of Tennessee
With all their echoing mounts athrob with war’s wild minstrelsy;
A galaxy of stars new-born around the shield of Mars
And set against the Stars and Stripes the flashing Stars and Bars.
’Twas Albert Sidney Johnston led the columns of the Gray,
Like Hector on the plains of Troy his presence fired the fray;
And dashing horse and gleaming sword spake out his royal will
As on the slopes of Shiloh field the blasts of war blew shrill.[92]
“Down with the base invaders,” the Gray shout forth the cry,
“Death to presumptuous rebels,” the Blue ring out reply;
All day the conflict rages and yet again all day,
Though Grant is on the Union side he cannot stem nor stay.
They are a royal race of men, these brothers face to face,
Their fury speaking through their guns, their frenzy in their pace;
The sweeping onset of the Gray bears down the sturdy Blue,
Though Sherman and his legions are heroes through and through.
Though Prentiss and his gallant men are forcing scaur and crag,
They fall like sheaves before the scythes of Hardee and of Bragg;
Ah, who shall tell the victor’s tale when all the strife is past,
When, man and man, in one great mold, the men who strive are cast?
As when the Trojan hero came from that fair city’s gates,
With tossing mane and flaming crest to scorn the scowling fates,[93]
His legions gather round him and madly charge and cheer,
And fill besieging armies with wild disheveled fear;
Then bares his breast unto the dart the daring spearsman sends,
And dying hears his cheering foes, the wailing of his friends,
So Albert Sidney Johnston, the chief of belt and scar,
Lay down to die at Shiloh and turned the scales of war.
Now five and twenty years are gone, and lo, to-day they come,
The Blue and Gray in proud array with throbbing fife and drum;
But not as rivals, not as foes, as brothers reconciled;
To twine love’s fragrant roses where the thorns of hate grew wild;
Aye, five and twenty years, and lo, the manhood of the South
Has held its valor staunch and strong as at the cannon’s mouth,
With patient heart and silent tongue has kept its true parole,
And in the conquests born of peace has crowned its battle roll.[94]
But ever while we sing of war, of courage tried and true,
Of heroes wed to gallant deeds, or be it Gray or Blue,
Then Albert Sidney Johnston’s name shall flash before our sight
Like some resplendent meteor across the somber night.
America, thy sons are knit with sinews wrought of steel,
They will not bend, they will not break, beneath the tyrant’s heel;
But in the white-hot flame of love, to silken cobwebs spun,
They whirl the engines of the world, all keeping time as one.
To-day they stand abreast and strong, who stood as foes of yore,
The world leaps up to bless their feet, heaven scatters blessings o’er;
Their robes are wrought of gleaming gold, their wings are freedom’s own,
The trampling of their conquering hosts shakes pinnacle and throne.
Oh, veterans of the Blue and Gray who fought on Shiloh field,
The purposes of God are true, His judgment stands revealed;[95]
The pangs of war have rent the veil, and lo, His high decree:
One heart, one hope, one destiny, one flag from sea to sea.

Kate Brownlee Sherwood.
[96]

OLD GLORY AT SHILOH

SPRING on the Tennessee; April—and flowers
Bloom on its banks; the anemones white
In clusters of stars where the green holly towers
O’er bellworts, like butterflies hov’ring in flight.
The ground ivy tips its blue lips to the laurel,
And covers the banks of the water-swept bars
With a background of blue, in which the red sorrel
Are stripes where the pale corydalis are stars.

Red, white and blue! O spring, did you send it,
And Flowers, did’st dream it for brothers to rend it?
Spring on the Tennessee; Sabbath—and morning
Breaks with a bird note that pulses along;
A melody sobs in the heart of its dawning—
The pain that foreshadows the birth of a song.
Art thou a flecking, brave Bluebird, of sky light,
Or the sough of a minor wove into a beam?
Oh, Hermit Thrush, Hermit Thrush, thou of the eye bright,
Bird, or the spirit of song in a dream?
“Our country—our country!” Why, birds, do you sing it?
And, woodland, why held you the echo, to ring it?[97]
Spring on the Tennessee; hark, Bluebird, listen!
Was that a bugle note far up the bend,
Where the murk waters flush and the white bars glisten,
Or dove cooing dove into love notes that blend?
And Wood Thrush, sweet, tell me,—that throbbing and humming,
Is it march at the double quick or wild bees that hum?
And that rumble that shakes like an earthquake coming—
Tell me, O Hermit Thrush, thunder or drum?
O birds, you must fly from the home that God gave you!
O flowers, you must die ’neath the foot that would save you!
Out from the wood with the morning mist o’er it
A gray line sweeps like a scythe of fire,
And it burns the stubble of blue before it,—
(How their bugles ring and their cannon roar it!)
In Dixie land we’ll take our stand,
And live and die in Dixie!
Out from the deep wood clearer and nigher,
The gray lines roll, and the blue lines reel
Back on the river—their dead are piled higher
Than the muzzle of muskets thund’ring their peal:[98]
In Dixie land we’ll take our stand,
And live and die for Dixie!
Noon on the Tennessee; backward, still driven
The blue lines reel, and the ranks of the gray
Flash out with a fierceness that light up the heavens,
When the thunders of night meet the lightnings of day.
Noon and past noon—and this is the story
Of the flag that fell not, and they call it Old Glory:
It flapped in the air, it flashed with the blare
Of the bugles so shrill and so true,
It faced quick about and steadied the rout
And halted the lines of blue.
And theboom-boom-boom of the maddened guns
Roared round it thick and fast,
Anddead-dead-dead sang the learing lead
Like hail in the sheeted blast,
And up and around it, surge and swell,
Rose the victor waves of the rebel yell,
And Grant’s grim army staggered, but stood,
With backs to the river and dyed it with blood
In the shuttle of thunder and drum;
And they cheered as it went to the front of the fray
And turned the tide at the sunset of day,
And they whispered:Buell is come![99]
Spring on the Tennessee; April—and flowers
Bloom on its banks; the anemones white
In clusters of stars where the green holly towers
O’er bellworts, like butterflies hov’ring in flight.
And the ground ivy tips its blue lips to the laurel
And covers the banks and the water-swept bars
With a background of blue, in which the red sorrel
Are stripes where the pale corydalis are stars.
Red, white, and blue—it tells its own story—
But, Spring, Who made it and named it Old Glory!

John Trotwood Moore.
[100]

THE FLAG OF THE CUMBERLAND

THE Confederate frigate,Merrimac, newlyarisen from her briny bath in the NorfolkNavy Yards, with her sides new coated in analmost impenetrable mail of iron and rechristenedtheVirginia, steamed slowly down the riverMay 8th, 1862, to Newport News, where theCumberland, theCongress, and theMinnesotaof the Union fleet lay at anchor.

The crews of the latter vessels were taking lifeleisurely that day, and were indulging in variouspastimes beloved of seamen. TheMerrimac asshe hove in sight did not look especially belligerent.Indeed she appeared “like a housesubmerged to the eaves and borne onward bythe flood.”

Notwithstanding her somewhat droll appearance,theMerrimac had herself well in controland was not on a cruise of pleasure bent, as thenavies well knew.[101]

With steady determination she came on, untilwithin easy distance of theCongress, a vessel whichgave her greeting with a shot from one of her sternguns, and received in response a shower of grape.

Broadsides were then exchanged, resulting infearful slaughter to the crew of theCongress anddamage to the guns. An officer of theCongresswas a favorite brother of Captain Buchanan oftheMerrimac. But such relation effected naughtin the exigencies of war.

Before theCongress could recover herself, theMerrimac headed for theCumberland. The firesof the Cumberland, as she approached, had noeffect upon her armored sides.

Into theCumberland she ran her powerful ironprow, crashing in her timbers and strewing herdecks with the maimed, the dead, and dying.

Again she turned her attention to theCongress,remembering also the frigateMinnesota withher fiery baptisms. Upon theCongress she soonforced a surrender. TheMinnesota found refugein flight.

Her work upon theCumberland was complete.And albeit the vessel had been rammed and was[103]sinking, her men ascended to the spar deck andfought till the waters engulfed them. The lastshot was fired from a gun half submerged in thewater.

As the ship settled to the bottom she careenedslightly and then righted herself; and the flag,as if defying the fate that threatened its destruction,still flew above the masthead.

The CumberlandAnd the flag, as if defying the fate that threatenedits destruction, still flew above the masthead.

There, close to the waves—her colors almosttouching the water—the captain, who wasabsent from his ship, found his flag upon hisreturn. A harbinger as it proved of the issuethat was to be.[104]

THE CUMBERLAND

AT anchor in Hampton Roads we lay,
On board of theCumberland, sloop of war;
And at times from the fortress across the bay
The alarum of drums swept past,
Or a bugle blast
From the camp on the shore.

Then far away to the south uprose
A little feather of snow-white smoke,
And we knew that the iron ship of our foes
Was steadily steering its course
To try the force
Of our ribs of oak.
Down upon us heavily runs,
Silent and sullen, the floating fort;
Then comes a puff of smoke from her guns,
And leaps the terrible death,
With fiery breath,
From each open port.[105]
We are not idle, but send her straight
Defiance back in a full broadside!
As hail rebounds from a roof of slate,
Rebounds our heavier hail
From each iron scale
Of the monster’s hide.
“Strike your flag!” the rebel cries,
In his arrogant old plantation strain.
“Never!” our gallant Morris replies;
“It is better to sink than to yield!”
And the whole air pealed
With the cheers of our men.
Then, like a kraken huge and black,
She crushed our ribs in her iron grasp!
Down went theCumberland all awrack,
With a sudden shudder of death,
And the cannon’s breath
For her dying gasp.
Next morn, as the sun rose over the bay,
Still floated our flag at the mainmast head
Lord, how beautiful was Thy day!
Every waft of the air
Was a whisper of prayer,
Or a dirge for the dead.[106]
Ho! brave hearts that went down in the seas!
Ye are at peace in the troubled stream;
Ho! brave land! with hearts like these,
Thy flag, that is rent in twain,
Shall be one again,
And without a seam!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
[107]

THE MONITOR

TWO old Spanish ships had, prior to the sinkingof theCumberland, met a like fate at thehands of the Confederates; and the signal successof theMerrimac now augured well for the breakof the blockade.

The South was greatly elated. The Northwas disquieted.

Twenty-four hours later the trend of eventswas changed.

There appeared in Hampton Roads a strangenew craft, called theMonitor. It was unlike anyvessel before seen, having a revolving roundtower of iron, that enabled the gunners to trainthe guns on the enemy continuously, withoutregard to the position of the ship. The hull hadan “overhang,” a projection constructed of ironand wood, as a protection against rams.

The inventor and builder of this little giantwas John Ericsson.[108]

His,

“The master mind that wrought,
With iron hand, this iron thought.
Strength and safety with speed combined.”

The vessel had been launched in less than ahundred days after the laying of the keel, in aneffort of the Federal government to have her inservice before the completion of theMerrimac(theVirginia.)

The new warship attracted the attention ofthe navies of Europe and brought about a changein the construction of war vessels.

As if indignant at the actions of theMerrimacin preceding her, and in attacking the Union fleet,theMonitor bore down upon her like some livething bent upon retribution, and at once engagedher in a terrific encounter.

With the hope born of confidence in the strengthof the Confederate ironclad, and her ability tooverpower completely the Union flotilla, boatsfilled with sight-seers had gone out from Norfolk,but with the first terrible onset of the armoredcombatants speedily made their way back tosafety.[109]

In this battle of the waters two old NavalAcademy comrades fought on opposite sides,Lieutenant Green and Lieutenant Butt, bothwell-known names.

For five long awful hours the strength of thetwo iron monsters was pitted against each otherfor supremacy on the seas, without apparentserious injury to either vessel.

At last theMerrimac ended the gigantic contestby turning her prow and withdrawing to Norfolk.[110]

THE CRUISE OF THE MONITOR

Hampton Roads, Virginia, March 9, 1862

OUT of a Northern city’s bay,
’Neath lowering clouds, one bleak March day,
Glided a craft,—the like I ween,
On ocean’s crest was never seen
Since Noah’s float,
That ancient boat,
Could o’er a conquered deluge gloat.

No raking masts, with clouds of sail,
Bent to the breeze or braved the gale;
No towering chimney’s wreaths of smoke
Betrayed the mighty engine’s stroke;
But low and dark,
Like the crafty shark,
Moved in the waters this novel bark.
The fishers stared as the flitting sprite
Passed their huts in the misty light,
Bearing a turret huge and black,
And said, “The old sea serpent’s back[111]
Carting away,
By light of day,
Uncle Sam’s fort from New York bay.”
Forth from a Southern city’s dock
Our frigates’ strong blockade to mock,
Crept a monster of rugged build,
The work of crafty hands, well skilled—
OldMerrimac,
With an iron back
Wooden ships would find hard to crack.
Straight to where theCumberland lay
The mail-clad monster made its way;
Its deadly prow struck deep and sure,
And the hero’s fighting days were o’er.
Ah! many the braves
Who found their graves
With that good ship beneath the waves.
Flushed with success, the victor flew,
Furious, the startled squadron through;
Sinking, burning, driving ashore,
Until the Sabbath day was o’er,
Resting at night,
To renew the fight
With vengeful ire by morning’s light.[112]
Out of its den it burst anew,
When the gray mist the sun broke through,
Steaming to where, in clinging sands,
The frigateMinnesota stands,
A sturdy foe
To overthrow,
But in woeful plight to receive a blow.
But see! beneath her bow appears
A champion no danger fears;
A pigmy craft, that seems to be,
To this new lord that rules the sea,
Like David of old
To Goliath bold—
Youth and giant, by scripture told.
Round the roaring despot playing,
With willing spirit helm obeying,
Spurning the iron against it hurled,
While belching turret rapid whirled,
And swift shots seethe
With smoky wreathe,
Told that the shark was showing his teeth.
TheMonitor fought. In grim amaze
The Merrimacs upon it gaze,
Cowering ’neath the iron hail,
Crashing into their coat of mail,[113]
They swore, “this craft,
The devil’s shaft,
Looked like a cheese box on a raft.”
Hurrah! little giant of ’62! Bold Worden with his gallant crew
Forces the fight; the day is won;
Back to his den the monster’s gone,
With crippled claws
And broken jaws,
Defeated in a reckless cause.
Hurrah for the master mind that wrought,
With iron hand, this iron thought!
Strength and safety with speed combined,
Ericsson’s gift to all mankind;
To curb abuse,
And chains to loose,
Hurrah for theMonitor’s famous cruise!

George H. Boker.
[114]

THE NIGHT OF CHANTILLY

IN March, 1862, McClellan set out from Washingtonto capture the Confederate capital.At Yorktown he was held in check for a month byan inferior force of Confederates. It was thelast of May before he reached Fair Oaks (SevenPines), seven miles from Richmond. The Confederateshere attacked him, and a furious battleof two days’ duration ensued, when the Confederateswere driven back. A notable eventof this engagement was the appointment of GeneralRobert E. Lee, as commander in chief of theConfederate armies; in place of General JosephE. Johnston, who was severely wounded.

One of the most conspicuous figures of thisbattle of Fair Oaks was General Philip Kearney.

In the words of Stedman:—

“When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn:—
He rode down the length of the withering column,
His sword waved us on and we answered the sign.”

[115]

“Kearney was the bravest man and the mostperfect soldier I ever saw,” said General Scott.“A man made for the profession of arms,” saysRope. “In the field he was always ready, alwaysskillful, always brave, always untiring, alwayshopeful, and always vigilant and alert.”

He distinguished himself in the War with Mexico,and lost an arm while he was leading cavalrytroops in close pursuit of the retreating Mexicans,at the battle of Churubusco, when they retreatedinto the city of San Antonio itself.

Mounted upon his great gray steed, “Monmouth,”he spurred through a rampart, fellingthe Mexicans as he went. A thousand arms wereraised to strike him, a thousand sabers glistenedin the air, when he hurriedly fell back, but toolate to escape the wound which necessitated theamputation of his left arm.

At Churubusco ended the spectacular career ofthe celebrated San Patricios battalion of Irishdeserters, who deserted to the American army onthe Canadian border and afterwards desertedto the Mexicans from the Texan border, fightingagainst the American in every Mexican war[116]battle of consequence from Palo Alto to Churubusco.After capture the leaders and many ofthe men were court-martialed and shot; theircommander, the notorious Thomas Riley, amongthe latter. The survivors were branded in thecheek with the letter “D” as a symbol of theirtreachery.

General Kearney resigned from the army in 1851and made a tour of the world. He then went toFrance and fought in the war of that countryagainst Italy. At Magenta, while he was leadingthe daring and hazardous charge that turnedthe situation and won Algiers to France,he chargedwith the bridle in his teeth.

For his bravery he received the Cross of theLegion of Honor, being the first American thushonored.

When the Civil War cloud burst, he came backto the United States and was made brigadiergeneral in the Federal army and given the commandof the First New Jersey Brigade.

His timely arrival at Williamsburg saved theday for the Federals.

In the engagement at Fair Oaks,[117]

“Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose highest,
Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest,”

there was no charge like Kearney’s.

“How he strode his brown steed! How we saw his blade brighten,
In the one hand still left,—and the reins in his teeth!”

General Oliver O. Howard lost hisright arm in thisbattle. When the amputation was taking place,he looked grimly up at General Kearney, who waspresent, and remarked, “We’ll buy our glovestogether, after this.”

At Chantilly, a few days after the second battleof Bull Run, wherein he forced the gallant StonewallJackson back, he penetrated into the Confederatelines and met his death.

The Confederates had won. The dusk hadfallen and General Kearney was reconnoiteringafter placing his division.

“He rode right into our men,” feelingly relatesa Confederate soldier, “then stopping suddenly,called out,[119][118]

“‘What troops are these?’”

General Kearney“What troops are these?”

Some one replied, “Hays’ Mississippi Brigade.”

He turned quickly in an attempt to escape.A shower of bullets fell about him. He leanedforward as if to protect himself, but a ball struckhim in the spine. He reeled and fell.

Under the white flag of truce, General Lee sent hisremains to General Hooker, who had the bodytransported to New York, where it was interredwith becoming honors.

“Oh, evil the black shroud of night of Chantilly,
That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried.”

[120]

KEARNEY AT SEVEN PINES

SO that soldierly legend is still on its journey,—
That story of Kearney who knew not how to yield!
’Twas the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry, and Birney,
Against twenty thousand he rallied the field.
Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose highest,
Where the dead lay in clumps through the dwarf oak and pine,
Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest,—
No charge like Phil Kearney’s along the whole line.

When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn
Near the dark Seven Pines, where we still held our ground
He rode down the length of the withering column,
And his heart at our war cry leapt up with a bound.
He snuffed like his charger, the wind of the powder,—
His sword waved us on and we answered the sign;
Loud our cheer as we rushed, but his laugh rang the louder,[121]
“There’s the devil’s own fun, boys, along the whole line!”
How he strode his brown steed! How we saw his blade brighten,
In the one hand still left,—and the reins in his teeth!
He laughed like a boy when the holidays heighten,
But a soldier’s glance shot from his visor beneath.
Up came the reserves to the mellay infernal,
Asking where to go in,—through the clearing or pine?
“O, anywhere! Forward! ’Tis all the same, Colonel!
You’ll find lovely fighting along the whole line!”
Oh, evil the black shroud of night of Chantilly,
That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried!
Foul, foul sped the bullet that clipped the white lily,
The flower of our knighthood, the whole army’s pride!
Yet we dream that he still,—in that shadowy region
Where the dead form their ranks at the wan drummer’s sign,—
Rides on, as of old, down the length of his legion,
And the word still is “Forward!” along the whole line.

Edmund Clarence Stedman.
[122]

THE CAVALRY CHARGE

WITH bray of the trumpet
And roll of the drum,
And keen ring of bugle,
The cavalry come.
Sharp clank the steel scabbards
The bridle chains ring,
And foam from red nostrils
The wild chargers fling.

Tramp! tramp! o’er the greensward
That quivers below,
Scarce held by the curb bit
The fierce horses go!
And the grim-visaged colonel,
With ear-rending shout,
Peals forth to the squadrons
The order: “Trot out!”
One hand on the saber,
And one on the rein,
The troopers move forward
In line on the plain.[123]
As rings the word, “Gallop!”
The steel scabbards clank;
As each rowel is pressed
To a horse’s hot flank;
And swift is their rush
And the wild torrents flow,
When it pours from the crag
On the valley below.
“Charge!” thunders the leader;
Like shaft from the bow
Each mad horse is hurled
On the wavering foe.
A thousand bright sabers
Are gleaming in air;
A thousand dark horses
Are dashed on the square.
Resistless and reckless
Of aught may betide,
Like demons, not mortals
The wild troopers ride.
Cut right! and cut left!
For the parry who needs?
The bayonets shiver
Like wind-scattered reeds.
Vain—vain the red volley
That bursts from the square,[124]
The random-shot bullets
Are wasted in air.
Triumphant, remorseless,
Unerring as death,—
No saber that’s stainless
Returns to its sheath.
The wounds that are dealt
By that murderous steel
Will never yield case
For the surgeon to heal.
Hurrah! they are broken—
Hurrah! boys, they fly!
None linger save those
Who but linger to die.
Rein up your hot horses
And call in your men,—
The trumpet sounds, “Rally
To colors!” again.
Some saddles are empty,
Some comrades are slain
And some noble horses
Lie stark on the plain:
But war’s a chance game, boys,
And weeping is vain.

Francis A. Durivage.
[125]

AN IMMORTAL TWAIN

IT is a coincidence worthy of note, and heretoforeunremarked by historians, that, as in thehour of birth of the National Flag there wasgiven to posterity the name of a great Revolutionaryhero, the hour of birth of the ConfederateBattle Emblem immortalized the name of a heroof the Confederacy.

At four o’clock in the afternoon of that hard-foughtbattle of Manassas (Bull Run), July 21,1861, the Federals were thinning out the lines ingray. Now they were directing their effortsagainst the wings of Jackson and Beauregard.Jackson’s solemn visage was growing more solemn;Beauregard was anxiously scanning the landscapebeyond, in the hope of discovering theapproach of badly needed reënforcements.

Over the hill a long line was seen advancing.The day was hot and dry and not a leaf stirredin the dust-laden air. Clouds of smoke and grime[127]enveloped the advancing troops and obscuredtheir colors. General Beauregard raised his glassand surveyed them critically.

General BeauregardGeneral Beauregard raised his glass and surveyedthem critically.

He then called an officer and instructed him togo to General Johnston and inform him that theenemy was receiving reënforcements and it mightbe wise for him to withdraw to another point.Still, he was not fully assured that the comingtroops were Federals! The flag hung limp andmotionless and could not be accurately discerned.

If these were Federals the day was surely lost.But if they were Confederates there was a fightingchance to win.

He determined to hold his position, and calledout,

“What troops are those?”

No one could tell. Just then a gust of windspread the colors. The flag was the Stars andBars—General Early’s brigade, not a momenttoo soon.

“We must have a more distinct flag,” announcedGeneral Beauregard vehemently, in infiniterelief: “One that we can recognize whenwe see it.[128]

In that instant was conceived the ConfederateBattle Flag, used thereafter throughout the Civilstrife.

After the battle, the design—St. Andrew’sCross—was submitted by General Beauregard,and, approved by General Joseph E. Johnston,was adopted by the Confederate Congress.

“Conceived on the field of battle, it lived on thefield of battle, and was proudly borne on everyfield from Manassas to Appomattox.”


The Confederates were routed and running indisorder. General Jackson was standing immovable.General Bee rode to his side. “They willbeat us back!”

“No, Sir,” replied Jackson, “we will give themthe bayonet.”

General Bee rode back to his brigade. “Lookat Jackson,” said he, “standing there like astone wall. Rally behind him.” With this hisbrigade fell into line.


Early’s troops arrived and formed. TheFederals were beaten into a tumultuous retreatthat never slacked until Centerville was reached.[129]

From that day the name “Stonewall” attachedto Thomas Jonathan Jackson and waspeculiarly appropriate as indicating the adamantine,unyielding character of the man.

The motto of his life was: “A man can do whathe wills to do,” and in his resolves he dependedfor guidance upon Divine leading. He triedalways to throw a religious atmosphere about hismen; and out of respect to his feelings, if for noother reason, they often refrained from evil. Hismount was a little sorrel horse, that the menaffirmed was strikingly like him as it could notrun except towards the enemy.

The ardent love of his troops for him made thetragedy of his death the more deplorable. Mistakinghim for the enemy as he was returningfrom the front, in the gathering darkness atChancellorsville, May, 1863, his own men shothim,—shot him down with victory in his grasp.

The whole country was horror-struck. Friendand foe alike paused in sympathy at such a situation.

To the Southern cause it was more than thetaking off of a leader; it was an irreparable loss.[130]By his death was left a gap in the Confederateranks that no one else could fill.

Prior to the breaking out of the war Jacksonhad been unknown, but in the two years of hisservice he accomplished more than any otherofficer on his side. He saved Richmond fromearly fall by keeping the Union forces apart,until he was joined by Lee, when together theydrove McClellan from within a few miles of theConfederate Capital and cleared the James Riverof gunboats.

In his report from Chancellorsville, GeneralRobert E. Lee pays tribute to the illustrious officerthus:—

“The movement by which the enemy’s positionwas turned and the fortune of the day decided,was conducted by the lamented LieutenantGeneral Jackson, who, as has already been stated,was severely wounded near the close of the engagementSaturday evening. I do not propose hereto speak of the character of this illustrious man,since removed from the scene of his eminent usefulness,by the hand of an inscrutable but all-wiseProvidence. I nevertheless desire to pay the[131]tribute of my admiration to the matchless energyand skill that marked this last act of his life,forming as it did a worthy conclusion of that longseries of splendid achievements which won forhim the lasting love and gratitude of his country.

“R. E. Lee.

General S. Cooper,
“Adjt. and Insp. Gen. C. S. Army,
“Richmond, Va.”
[132]

STONEWALL JACKSON

NOT midst the lightning of the stormy fight,
Nor in the rush upon the vandal foe,
Did Kingly Death with his resistless might
Lay the great leader low.

His warrior soul its earthly shackles broke
In the full sunshine of a peaceful town;
When all the storm was hushed, the trusty oak
That propped our cause went down.
Though his alone the blood that flecks the ground,
Recalling all his grand heroic deeds,
Freedom herself is writhing in the wound
And all the country bleeds.
He entered not the Nation’s Promised Land,
At the red belching of the cannon’s mouth
But broke the House of Bondage with his hand,
The Moses of the South!
O gracious God! not gainless is the loss;
A glorious sunbeam gilds thy sternest frown,
And while his country staggers neath the Cross,
He rises with the Crown.

Henry Lynden Flash.
[133]

GettysburgHigh Tide at Gettysburg.

THE HIGH TIDE AT GETTYSBURG

A CLOUD possessed the hollow field,
The gathering battle’s smoky shield:
Athwart the gloom the lightning flashed,
And through the cloud some horsemen dashed,
And from the heights the thunder pealed.

Then, at the brief command of Lee,
Moved out that matchless infantry,
With Pickett leading grandly down,
To rush against the roaring crown,
Of those dread heights of destiny.
Far heard above the angry guns
A cry across the tumult runs,—
The voice that rang through Shiloh’s woods
And Chickamauga’s solitudes,
The fierce South cheering on her sons!
Ah, how the withering tempest blew
Against the front of Pettigrew!
A Khamsin wind that scorched and singed
Like that infernal flame that fringed
The British squares at Waterloo![134]
A thousand fell where Kemper led;
A thousand died where Garnett bled:
In blinding flame and strangling smoke
The remnant through the batteries broke
And crossed the works with Armistead.
“Once more in Glory’s van with me!”
Virginia cried to Tennessee;
“We two together, come what may,
Shall stand upon these works today!”
(The reddest day in history.)
Brave Tennessee! In reckless way
Virginia heard her comrade say:
“Close round this rent and riddled rag!”
What time she set her battle-flag
Amid the guns of Doubleday.
But who shall break the guards that wait
Before the awful face of Fate?
The tattered standards of the South
Were shriveled at the cannon’s mouth,
And all her hopes were desolate.
In vain the Tennesseean set
His breast against the bayonet;
In vain Virginia charged and raged,
A tigress in her wrath uncaged,
Till all the hill was red and wet.[136]
Above the bayonets, mixed and crossed,
Men saw a gray, gigantic ghost
Receding through the battle-cloud,
And heard across the tempest loud
The death-cry of a nation lost!
The brave went down! Without disgrace
They leaped to Ruin’s red embrace;
They only heard Fame’s thunders wake,
And saw the dazzling sun-burst break
In smiles on Glory’s bloody face!
They fell, who lifted up a hand
And bade the sun in heaven to stand;
They smote and fell, who set the bars
Against the progress of the stars,
And stayed the march of Motherland!
They stood, who saw the future come
On through the fight’s delirium;
They smote and stood, who held the hope
Of nations on that slippery slope
Amid the cheers of Christendom.
God lives! He forged the iron will
That clutched and held the trembling hill!
God lives and reigns! He built and lent
The heights for freedom’s battlement
Where floats her flag in triumph still![137]
Fold up the banners! Smelt the guns!
Love rules. Her gentler purpose runs.
A mighty mother turns in tears
The pages of her battle years,
Lamenting all her fallen sons!

Will Henry Thompson.
[138]

UNITED

ALL day it shook the land—grim battle’s thunder tread;
And fields at morning green, at eve are trampled red.
But now, on the stricken scene, twilight and quiet fall;
Only, from hill to hill, night’s tremulous voices call;
And comes from far along, where camp fires warning burn,
The dread, hushed sound which tells of morning’s sad return.

Timidly nature awakens; the stars come out overhead,
And a flood of moonlight breaks like a voiceless prayer for the dead.
And steals the blessed wind, like Odin’s fairest daughter,
In viewless ministry, over the fields of slaughter;
Soothing the smitten life, easing the pang of death,
And bearing away on high the passing warrior’s breath.[139]
Two youthful forms are lying apart from the thickest fray,
The one in Northern blue, the other in Southern gray.
Around his lifeless foeman the arms of each are pressed,
And the head of one is pillowed upon the other’s breast.
As if two loving brothers, wearied with work and play,
Had fallen asleep together, at close of the summer day.
Foemen were they, and brothers?—Again the battle’s din,
With its sullen, cruel answer, from far away breaks in.

Benjamin Sledd.
[140]

OLD HEART OF OAK

TO the Navy is ascribed the larger shares inthe Civil War, of overcoming the prowessof the South. “The blockade sapped the industrialstrength of the Confederacy.”

A powerful factor in this blockade was David G.Farragut. Farragut was a Southerner by birth—aTennessean—and fought, as it were, againsthis own hearthstone. Yet, when it is consideredthat from early youth he was in the marine serviceof the government and by arms upheld thenational flag, and when it is remembered withwhat reverence the seaman regards the flag underwhich he serves, his choice is not surprising.

Scenes wherein men fought and died for theStars and Stripes and often with their dying breathexpressing adoration of the nation’s emblem werecommon experiences of his life.

In his memoirs is related a pathetic story of ayouth’s death from accidental shooting. “Put[141]me in the boat,” implored he of his comrades,“that I may die under my country’s flag.” Another,a young Scotchman, who had a leg cut offin battle, cried out mournfully, “I can no longerbe of use to the flag of my adoption,” and threwhimself overboard.

The necessity of choosing between the Northand the South brought Farragut many sleeplessnights and forced him between the fires of censurefrom the South and doubt of his fealty from theNorth, as it was recognized that the Southernman, as a rule, felt that his first allegiance wasdue to his State.

When he was but a lad of seven years, Farragutlost his mother and was adopted by his father’sfriend, that fighting old Commodore DavidPorter, who was destined to raise both his adoptedand his own son to become admirals in the UnitedStates Navy.

For little Dave Farragut the sea had always awonderful fascination, and at the age of twelve hewas made a midshipman on theEssex, a warshipof 1812. TheEssex one day captured a whalingvessel, and Captain Porter placed David in charge[142]to steer her across the Pacific. The captain ofthe whaler, when clear of theEssex, thought toregain his vessel from the boy, by countermandinghis orders. He threatened to shoot any sailorwho dared to disobey him. Right here, themettle that was to make Farragut the head of theAmerican navy and the idol of the Americanpeople manifested itself. He repeated his orderat first given; and when the mutinous captainappeared from below decks where he had gonefor his pistols, he was told by the youthful commanderthat he would have to stay below or bethrown overboard. He chose the former.

To this same dauntless spirit, the Federalgovernment owed the blockade of the lowerMississippi and the closing of the ports of MobileBay, that inflicted such injuries upon the Confederacyas to hasten the end of the war. “Withports closed,” says an authority, “the Southernarmies were reduced to a pitiful misery, the longendurance of which makes a noble chapter inheroism.”

The lower Mississippi was controlled by theConfederates. Possession of the river and the[143]capture of New Orleans could be accomplishedonly by running the forts situated below the citysome seventy miles. To run the forts with woodenvessels and escape destruction from the armedvessels of the Confederacy in the Mississippiwas a hazardous undertaking. Farragut believedhe could do this. In December, 1861, he wrote toa friend: “Keep your lips closed and burn myletters. Perfect silence is the first injunction ofthe Secretary. I am to have aflag in the gulf,and the rest depends upon myself.”

In March he again wrote, “I have now attainedwhat I have been looking for all my life—aflag—andhaving attained it, all that is necessaryto complete the scene is a victory.” The victoryhe was soon to have.

At two o’clock the morning of April 24, 1862,the signal for the start for the forts was given.In a few moments the thunderous roar of batteriesand guns broke upon the air. The river becamea mass of writhing flame.

“The passing of Forts Jackson and St. Phillipswas one of the most awful sights and events Iever saw or expect to experience,” says Farragut.[144]Rafts of cotton were set on fire by the Confederatesand came down the river, scattering disasteras they came. One of these caught theHartford,Farragut’s flagship, and set it on fire. So highrose the flames that even the courageous commanderwas for the moment daunted and exclaimed,“My God! is this to end this way!”By the expeditious use of the hose the flameswere controlled.

The strong barriers across the river were broken.By repeated and desperate efforts the Confederateboats were sunk or disabled. The levee at NewOrleans was gained. The Crescent City wastaken.

Thus was accomplished a feat in naval warfarereckoned without a parallel in naval history,except in that of twenty-four months later inMobile Bay. In compliment to his exploit therank of rear admiral was conferred upon Farragut.Of the fleet, as subordinate officers, wereDewey and Schley, a future admiral and a rear-admiral.

To his home, the victorious commander addressedthe following letter:[145]

“My dearest Wife and Boy.

“I am so agitated I can scarcely write, and Ishall only tell you that it has pleased AlmightyGod to preserve my life through a fire such as theworld has scarcely known.”

When the ships lay safely at the levee with butone of the squadron lost, Farragut by note requestedthe mayor of New Orleans to remove theConfederate flag and to surrender the city formally.In curt terms the doughty mayor refusedto do so, stating there was not in the city of NewOrleans a man who would take down that flag.Then ensued a most unique correspondencebetween the two, through which Farragut madehimself misunderstood to the extent that it wasrumored that it was his intention to turn the gunson the city. At the expiration of forty-eight hours,however, an officer of the fleet removed the offendingflag and hoisted the Stars and Stripesover the city hall.

To injure purposely the defenseless, as inturning the guns on the city, was not in keepingwith the nature of David Farragut as revealedin history. Power combined with gentleness[146]were the marked traits of his character. Thisgentleness had its finest reflex in his delicateattentions to his invalid wife. In the presenceof her continuous suffering his warrior naturewas laid aside, and his chivalric kindness shoneforth in acts of rare devotion and tendercare.

When he was asked one day, as to his feelingsduring a battle in seeing men fall writhing uponevery side, he answered, “I thought of nothingbut the working of the guns; but after the battle,when I saw the mangled bodies of my shipmates,dead and dying, groaning and expiring often withthe most patriotic sentiments upon their lips,I became faint and sick. My sympathies wereall aroused.” Markedly noticeable in his lettersis the absence of self-elation over his victories.There are, rather, a rejoicing in the advancementof his cause and gratitude to the Almighty forpreservation. In this we read anew the lessonof true greatness.

Just prior to entering into the noted action ofMobile Bay, he wrote his son respecting his viewsof duty and death. “He who dies in doing his[148]duty to his country, and at peace with his God,has played out the drama of life to the best advantage.”Shortly after this was penned, theHartford was steaming into Mobile Bay, underthe heavy fire of guns of Fort Morgan and FortGaines, in the execution of a naval feat that attractedthe attention and admiration of thewhole civilized world.

The Battle of Mobile Bay.The Battle of Mobile Bay.

At the mouth of the bay the two islands uponwhich the forts stood were less than a mile apart.The passage had been strewn with torpedoes bythe Confederates, and only a narrow strip ofwater was left clear. Through this strip wentFarragut’s fleet: theTecumseh first, theBrooklynnext, theHartford third. Suddenly the prowof theTecumseh lifted: she veered and sank.TheBrooklyn backed and held Farragut’s shipdirectly under the guns of Fort Morgan. Shotand shell hurtled in the air. The smoke grewdense. The fire from the cannons lit the heavens.Men shouted and fell.

“What’s the matter!” called Farragut.

“Torpedoes,” some one answered.

Never a profane man, he now gave vent to an[149]oath, and cried out, “Full speed, Jouett. Fourbells, Captain Drayton.”

TheHartford steamed to the front. Thetorpedoes crackled under her as she sped on; butthe forts were passed. And high in the riggingof his ship, in full view of the enemy and imminentdanger of the fiery missiles, was seen Farragut,whence he directed all the ships’ maneuvers.An officer, observing him standing there, fearedlest a shot would cause his fall, and carried a ropeand lashed him to the mast.

In maddened fury the ironcladTennesseeplunged straight at theHartford. All the fleetbore down upon the Confederate ship. Andcrowding together, theLackawanna, needingroom, struck the flagship by accident, and camenear striking the commander. Against theTennessee every Federal ship now redoubled herefforts, until, battered and bruised and despairing,she struck her colors.

The captain of theTennessee was Buchanan,the same who commanded theMerrimac in herfight with theMonitor in Hampton Roads. “TheTennessee and Buchanan are my prisoners,[150]”wrote Farragut home. “He has lost a leg. Itwas a hard fight, but Buck met his fate manfully.”

Fort Morgan and Fort Gaines surrendered andFarragut’s fierce conflicts were at an end. Nearlyso was his path of life. Congress honored himwith the rank of admiral, the highest honor to beconferred. America and foreign nations extendedhim the most distinguishing courtesies. Andthen—the unseen Pilot steered his course acrossthe unknown sea unto the harbor of the cityEternal.[151]

FARRAGUT

FARRAGUT, Farragut,
Old Heart of Oak,
Daring Dave Farragut,
Thunderbolt stroke,
Watches the hoary mist
Lift from the bay,
Till his flag, glory-kissed,
Greets the young day.

Far, by gray Morgan’s walls,
Looms the black fleet.
Hark, deck to rampart calls
With the drums’ beat!
Buoy your chains overboard,
While the steam hums;
Men! to the battlement,
Farragut comes.
See, as the hurricane
Hurtles in wrath
Squadrons of clouds amain
Back from its path![152]
Back to the parapet,
To the gun’s lips,
Thunderbolt Farragut
Hurls the black ships.
Now through the battle’s roar
Clear the boy sings,
“By the mark fathoms four,”
While his lead swings.
Steadily the wheelmen five
“Nor’ by East keep her.”
“Steady,” but two alive:
How the shells sweep her!
Lashed to the mast that sways
Over red decks,
Over the flame that plays
Round the torn wrecks,
Over the dying lips
Framed for a cheer,
Farragut leads his ships,
Guides the line clear.
On by heights cannon-browed,
While the spars quiver;
Onward still flames the cloud
Where the hulls shiver.[153]
See, yon fort’s star is set,
Storm and fire past.
Cheer him, lads—Farragut,
Lashed to the mast!
Oh! while Atlantic’s breast
Bears a white sail,
While the Gulf’s towering crest
Tops a green vale,
Men thy bold deeds shall tell,
Old Heart of Oak,
Daring Dave Farragut,
Thunderbolt stroke!

William Tuckey Meredith.

August, 1864.
[154]

PINE AND PALM

(GRANT AND LEE)

Charles Francis Adams in address before ChicagoChapter of Phi Beta Kappa, June 17, 1902.

I NOW come to what I have always regarded—shallever regard as the most creditableepisode in all American history,—an episodewithout a blemish,—imposing, dignified, simple,heroic. I refer to Appomattox. Two men metthat day, representative of American civilization,the whole world looking on. The two wereGrant and Lee,—types each. Both rose, androse unconsciously, to the full height of the occasion,—andthan that occasion there has beennone greater. About it and them, there was notheatrical display, no self-consciousness, no effortat effect. A great crisis was to be met; and theymet that crisis as great countrymen should.

That month of April saw the close of exactly[155]four years of persistent strife,—a strife whichthe whole civilized world had been watchingintently. Then, suddenly, came the dramaticclimax at Appomattox, dramatic I say, nottheatrical,—severe in its simple, sober, matter-of-factmajesty. The world, I again assert, hasseen nothing like it; and the world, instinctively,was at the time conscious of the fact. I like todwell on the familiar circumstances of the day;on its momentous outcome; on its far-reachingresults. It affords one of the greatest educationalobject lessons to be found in history; and theactors were worthy of the theater, the auditory,and the play.

A mighty tragedy was drawing to a close. Thebreathless world was the audience. It was abright, balmy April Sunday in a quiet Virginialandscape, with two veteran armies confrontingeach other; one game to the death, completelyin the grasp of the other. The future was atstake. What might ensue? What might notensue? Would the strife end then and there?Would it die in a death-grapple, only to reappearin that chronic form of a vanquished but indomi[156]tablepeople, writhing and struggling, in the graspof an insatiate but only nominal victor?

The answer depended on two men,—the captainsof the contending forces. Think what thenmight have resulted had these two men been otherthan what they were,—had the one been sternand aggressive, the other sullen and unyielding.Most fortunately for us, they were what andwho they were,—Grant and Lee. Of the two, Iknow not to which to award the palm. Instinctively,unconsciously, they vied not unsuccessfullyeach with the other, in dignity, magnanimity,simplicity.[157]

THE CONQUERED BANNER

LIKE several other poems of renown, “TheConquered Banner” was written understress of deep emotion.

Abram J. Ryan (Father Ryan) had beenordained as a Catholic priest. Shortly after hisordination he was made a chaplain in the Confederatearmy.

When the news came of General Lee’s surrenderat Appomattox he was in his room in Knoxville,where his regiment was quartered.

He bowed his head upon the table and weptbitterly.

He then arose and looked about him for a pieceof paper, but could find nothing but a sheet ofbrown paper wrapped about a pair of shoes.Spreading this out upon the table, he, “in a spiritof sorrow and desolation” as expressed in his ownwords, wrote upon it “The Conquered Banner.”

The following morning the regiment was ordered[158]away, and the poem upon the table was forgotten.To the author’s surprise it appeared over hisname, in a Louisville paper, a few weeks later,having been forwarded to the paper by the ladyin whose house he had stopped in Knoxville.

The poem was widely copied, and was read atgatherings throughout the South with ardor andoften with tears.

As an expression of sorrow without bitternessit is considered a fine example.[159]

THE CONQUERED BANNER

FURL that Banner, for ’tis weary;
Round its staff ’tis drooping dreary;
Furl it, fold it—it is best;
For there’s not a man to wave it,
And there’s not a sword to save it,
And there’s not one left to lave it
In the blood which heroes gave it;
And its foes now scorn and brave it;
Furl it, hide it—let it rest!

Take that Banner down! ’tis tattered;
Broken is its staff and shattered;
And the valiant hosts are scattered,
Over whom it floated high.
Oh, ’tis hard for us to fold it,
Hard to think there’s none to hold it,
Hard that those who once unrolled it
Now must furl it with a sigh!
Furl that Banner—furl it sadly;
Once ten thousands hailed it gladly,
And ten thousands wildly, madly,
Swore it should forever wave—[160]
Swore that foeman’s sword could never
Hearts like theirs entwined dissever,
And that flag should float forever
O’er their freedom or their grave!
Furl it! for the hands that grasped it,
And the hearts that fondly clasped it,
Cold and dead are lying low;
And the Banner—it is trailing,
While around it sounds the wailing
Of its people in their woe.
For, though conquered, they adore it—
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it!
Weep for those who fell before it!
Pardon those who trailed and tore it!
But, oh, wildly they deplore it,
Now who furl and fold it so!
Furl that Banner! True, ’tis gory,
Yet, ’tis wreathed around with glory,
And ’twill live in song and story
Though its folds are in the dust!
For its fame on brightest pages,
Penned by poets and by sages,
Shall go sounding down the ages—
Furl its folds though now we must.[161]
Furl that Banner, softly, slowly;
Treat it gently—it is holy,
For it droops above the dead;
Touch it not—unfold it never;
Let it droop there, furled forever,—
For its people’s hopes are fled.

Abram Joseph Ryan.
[162]

DEATH OF GRANT

AS one by one withdraw the lofty actors
From that great play on history’s stage eternal,
That lurid, partial act of war and peace—of old and new contending,
Fought out through wrath, fears, dark dismays, and many a long suspense;
All past—and since, in countless graves receding, mellowing
Victor and vanquished—Lincoln’s and Lee’s—now thou with them,
Man of the mighty day—and equal to the day!
Thou from the prairies?—and tangled and many veined and hard has been thy part,
To admiration has it been enacted!

Walt Whitman.

The humblest soldier who carried a musket isentitled to as much credit for the results of the waras those who were in command.

U. S. Grant.
[163]

U. S. Grant.U. S. Grant.

[164]

ROBERT E. LEE

A GALLANT foeman in the fight,
A brother when the fight was o’er,
The hand that led the host with might
The blessed torch of learning bore.

No shriek of shells nor roll of drums,
No challenge fierce, resounding far,
When reconciling wisdom comes
To heal the cruel wounds of war.
Thought may the minds of men divide,
Love makes the heart of nations one,
And so, thy soldier grave beside,
We honor thee, Virginia’s son.

Julia Ward Howe.
[165]

Robert E. Lee.Robert E. Lee.

[166]

OLD GLORY ON THE ISLAND

MEN who have had grave differences andlooked at each other coldly and passedwith unsmiling faces have, when some calamitythreatened, sprang shoulder to shoulder andspent their united strength in defense of a commoncause.

Thus in the Spanish-American spurt of war,—seriousenough, too serious, alas, in some aspects;but great in some of its beneficent results. Inthat call, “To Arms!” was laid to rest—foreverforgotten—the old enmity between theNorth and the South, engendered by the CivilStrife.

On the island of Cuba, the trenches of theUnited States Army were five miles in extent andin shape of a horseshoe. Above the trenches,five curving miles ofStars and Stripes gleamed.

To the United States prisoners, confined in the[168]prison, within sight of these flags, butunder theflag of Spain, the waving emblems before theireyes brought daily hope and courage.

In full vision of the men in the trenchesfluttered the flag of Spain; above their headsOld Glory flew,—the sheltering Stripes andStars.

As night came down, and land and shimmeringsea was bathed in the white light of the sub-tropics,the strains of the “Star-Spangled Banner”were borne upon the air and fell away softly, asif coming from across the water. Every manuncovered and stood with silent lips, and eyesfixed upon Old Glory until the last echoing notedied in the distance, then turned again to duties;but upon his face was stamped the deeper understandingof the meaning of it all—of Flag, andHome, and Country.

Eyes fixed on Old Glory.Every man uncovered and stood with silent lips, andeyes fixed on Old Glory.

Thus from the shores of a tropic island, fightingtogether for the flag of the nation, both Blue andGray gained a new and happier viewpoint; andlooking back across the warm and shining watersof the Gulf Stream, each knew that all was good,and said:[169]

“Lo! from the thunder-strife,
And from the blown, white ashes of the dead,
We rise to larger life.”
“There is a peace amid’st the shock of arms,
That satisfies the soul, though all the air
Hurtles with horror and with rude alarms.”
“That clarion cry, My country! makes men one.”

[170]

WHEELER’S BRIGADE AT SANTIAGO

'NEATH the lanes of the tropic sun
The column is standing ready,
Awaiting the fateful command of one
Whose word will ring out
To an answering shout
To prove it alert and steady.
And a stirring chorus all of them sung
With singleness of endeavor,
Though some to “The Bonny Blue Flag” had swung
And some to “The Union For Ever.”

The order came sharp through the desperate air
And the long ranks rose to follow,
Till their dancing banners shone more fair
Than the brightest ray
Of the Cuban day
On the hill and jungled hollow;
And to “Maryland” some in the days gone by
Had fought through the combat’s rumble
And some for “Freedom’s Battle-Cry”
Had seen the broad earth crumble.[171]
Full many a widow weeps in the night
Who had been a man’s wife in the morning;
For the banners we loved we bore to the height
Where the enemy stood
As a hero should
His valor his country adorning;
But drops of pride with your tears of grief,
Ye American women, mix ye!
For the North and South, with a Southern chief,
Kept time to the tune of “Dixie.”

Wallace Rice.
[172]

SOLDIERS

SO many, many soldiers
At reveille fared forth;
Such ready, willing soldiers,
From sunny South and North.

So many gallant soldiers
At noon to face the fight;
So many weary wounded
Home-dreaming in the night.
So many quick to answer
To drum and bugle sound;
So many war-scarred sleepers
On death’s white-tented ground.
O soldiers, silent soldiers,
Calm-sleeping in the sun,
Beneath one happy flag again,
God rest you, every one.
Of every human difference
Great Time, the high priest, shrives;
While Southern winds are telling
The fragrance of brave lives.[173]
Beneath the Southern willows,
In slumber folded deep,
O soldiers, brothers, every one,
God’s peace attend your sleep.

Will AllenDromgoole.


Our battle-fields, safe in the keeping,
Of Nature’s kind, fostering care,
Are blooming,—our heroes are sleeping,—
And peace broods perennial there.
All over our land rings the story
Of loyalty, fervent and true;
“One flag, and that flag is Old Glory,”
Alike for the Gray and the Blue.

John Howard Jewett.


Printed in the United States of America.


Transcriber’s Note:

The original punctuation, language and spelling have been retained,except where noted.

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