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I 556e Life and Times
I of &
| Thomas Jefferson
J* Being the First Part of a History of the United States
CHAPTER XVl—(Concluded.)
Ihus would the first families of Virgin
ia perpetuate themselves.
The samj love of home, pride of family,
and spirit of class which created aristoc
racy In Great Britain came across the
waters with the cavaliers, who marked
out manorial domains along U' 1 ' Potomac
and the James.
The ambition to found a family, to per
petuate an honored name, and to send
down to remote ages the home tipuse and
home grounds, was ag strong in Virginia
as in Old England itself.
The colonist did not refer to -his estate
as "my plantation' 1 or “my farm." or
designate it vaguely as the “place where
I live."
No! The colonist loved his home too well
for that. To him, Ids estate was a part
of himself; and he would no more think
of letting it exist anonymously than he
would think of letting his children run
wild without names.
To him and to all the world, his estate
was "Gnnston Hall," or "Rosewell." or
“Tuckahoe." or “Elmington Manor," or
“Mount Vernon;” and you were laying np
disagreeable consequences for yours. If It
you failed to remember, and to use. those
names. Jones does not love the man who
calls him Smith; and Smith boars no grat
itude to the careless acquaintance who
halls him as Brown; and this punctilio
about names of persons once clung almost
with equal strength to home as well as to
person.
In the very life-blood of the race, ran
this warm love for the ancestral seat.
Chatsworth was not dearer to Vavandish.
Penshtirst to the Sydneys, Hatfield to the
Cedis nor Alvwick Castle to the Pereys,
than Westover to the Byrds Shirleys to
the Carters. Brandon to the Harrisons,
and Stratford to the Lees
A democrat, are you?
Os course, you are; and yet. In vo ir
heart of hearts, you warm to the old
time cavalier who chose for his home
the loveliest spot he could find, reared a
costlier house than he could afford, made
It as attractive as he knew how. chris
tened It with some pot name of fond
essoclatlon, and then threw open its wide
doors and said to all the world, “Come
sit by my hearth, come “at at my table;
my house was not built for myself
alone!"
Indeed, no sane democrat denies th it
there is a certain nobility in the English
man's love of the ancestral home. He
does not ever willingly sell It Money
has no value beside It. Forages perhaps
It has been Identified with his name; the
memories, the glories of Ids race cling
to 1t as does the Ivy that climbs its
walls.
The boundary lines of the broad acres
upon wlilch it stands may have been
marked off with the sword in the days of
' The good <»ld way and simple plan
That he shall take who has the power,
And he shall keep who can."
The chain of title may r un back to some
magnificent robber who followed V> llliam
the Norman; some mail-clad baron who
with drawn sword faced King John at
Runnymede. The founder of the house
may have been some soldier who served
valiantly when the great Armada s i
shadow fell upon the coast; or some ad
venturous seaman who flew the I’nion
Jack in the remotest waters with I (aw
kins, or with Drake The older part of
tho mansion Itself may have been found
ed hundreds of years ago. The ancient
towers stood when the Black Prince
brought home a captive king of France
From these old court yards crusaders
may have ridden with Ri< hard or with
Edward to the holy land. Through this
massive gateway knights with plumed
helmets may have followed the banner of I
Henry V to Agincourt or Edward to
J'o.ctiers. In this noble hall the cava i'-rs
of Rupert may have caroused before the
bugles blew for Edgehill or Maiston
Moor.
Un these walls hangs . rmor .'err .l with
the blows of sword and battle ax at
Cressy or Ascalon; banners which toss, d
In the foreftont of battle wh.-u th. war
ety was, “A Chandos! “A lalbot "A
Marwick!'* “A Sydney!" "A Lancaster!"
I'pon the Rhine, the Seine, th- Gar.mne,
the Scheldt, the St. Eawrenee the Hud
son, the Mississippi, tho Ganges, the
Nile, the Modder, sons of thes. historic
houses have fought, and rarely failed.
Vnder Marlborough. Welle. ' live, Nel
eon, Rodney. Wellington, on land and sea,
in every <p:arter of tho globe, they have
answered the call of king arid co atty,
of dutv and danger.
Nor hat > ■ ■ to
arms, to war and bio.. <-i„ d. Heroes of
yet higher type have made :!.•■ o.d house
Illustrious Sag. » ' ■■ •'■rd- ■ . »bdmn
guided nations st who set
to empires. - agged new
worlds into
throplsts who imd tain hands upon the
reins of national tm. in am gentlj turn
ed crowding minions i better ways of .
life' masters of melody whose lofty
rhvme charmed the world mast, r- of
speech whoso inspired tongms electrified
the world; masters of pra , l achieve
ment whose impulse to progress bettered
the world; masters of the pin whose lines
of light became the creed and the hope
of the world.
Poes such a house speak no word of in
spiration to tl.e son? Does it awaken in
him no sense of coflsecration.’ Does it
lift no high standard of conduct before
his eves? Does it Impose no solemn ob-
Jiga*ians. 110 'responsibilities -to
which he must respond?
Has such a house no meaning which
thrills the very soul? Profound are the
feelings which are touched by considera
tions like these.
To keep the ancestral home in the fam
ily with all of the sacred heirlooms and
all’ of its splendid memories and all of
Its tender associations—these are the
high motives which explain England's
law of prlmog-nlture and entailed es
tates.
And tills system the \ irgintans brought
with them ami established.
It may not be true that John Randolph,
of Roanoke, set his dogs on the man
who came to the house and asked if lie
would sell his land, but it Is reasonably
certain that n?ne but of ten of the land
barons of Virginia would have resented
the offer to buy their ancestral homes.
But Mr. Jefferson knew that there was
another side to this picture and that it
was ugly to look upon. I,and monopoly
could only be good to those who held
the land. Even to these favored few It
Is not an unmixed good Hereditary
wealth may breed luxury and vice, the
heir who cannot be disinherited may be
come rebellious, a thankless, unnatural
child.
The least worthy of all the children
may g p t all the property, leaving the
others dependent., their careers a subject
of anxiety to parents.
If land monopoly is not wholly benefi-
cial to tiie favored few, it is almost en
tirely Injurious .to tiie unfavored multi
tude It places the soil out of reach, re
moves It from the competition of the In
dustrious, tends to place It where it is
least useful to the race. In creating a
land monopoly, a landed aristocracy, the
low establishes a caste. Inevitably tiie
system evolves the abuses seen in the
older countries.
“Once rich, always rich; once poor,
always poor." Whenever such a state
ment can be made of any people, prog
ress has ceased and decoy set in.
An nrlst’ocracy of Intelligence, virtue,
meritorious achievement Mr. Jefferson
recognized as all men recognize it; but
this natural aristocracy owes no homage
to mere wealth. Its glorious ranks draw
from hovels recruits who come uniformed
in sober grav; as well as from man
sions, where purple and tine linen are
worn.
To found aristocracy on birth and he
reditary wealth is to make accident the
test, depriving nature of its right to se
lect. To make character, intelligence, no
ble work, high purpose the standard is
to put it where the golden spur will be
worn by him who wins it.
In the order of nature no Chatterton
would starve in his garret, having
stretched out his hand in vain supplica
tion to Walpole, the grandee.
Only In a system where diabolical art,
contrivance, selfish convention aad
<h warted nature would Burns break his
heart in squalid poverty—lacking the cost
of the dally feed of the duke of Devon
shire's dogs.
It was not nature, but a. system carved
out witli puns, barriers thrown up by
statute, which kept Oliver Goldsmith un
der the wheel# while marquises of
Qneensbury and dukes of Grafton rode
in the gilded coach.
Thomas Baine writes "Common Sense’
to redeem a people and make them hap
py; this reward is a debit account of
about one hundred dollars which he
must pay to his publisher. Edimund Burko
writes bls pamphlet against democracy,
and his reward is the smile of a king,
applause of the aristocracy and a pen
sion of ten thousand dollars per nnnum,
which democratic taxpayers must pay.
Nature is not so unjust. Every beast
of the field had its chance to graze; every
bird of the air its chance to fly and feed,
every fish of the sea its chance to swim
and live. The strongest, the fittest, sur
vived the competition, but the chance to
compete was always there.
Democrac'. alms to give all a chance.
It refuses to entrench any class in tho
secure possession of the blessings of na
ture, to ths exclusion of al. other classes.
It refuses to admit that all the merit, is to
be found in any one class. It refuses to
believe that the family which is noblest
today will be the noblest a thousand years
from today. It refuses to despair of the
poor and ignorant, refuses to stop tho
wheels of evolution, dre.iues to close tiie
avenues of promotion, refuses to ppt up
social, political, educational barriers
which none but the wealthy may pass,
refuses to lend its law-making power to ‘
the strong who would exact eternal
tribute from the weak. That the strong
ate strong, democracy cannot help, but |
it can avoid the deep damnation of help- j
ing the strong to oppress the weak.
in nature the race is not always to the
swift, nor the battle to tiie strong; in
class legislation, in das? government, it j
Invariably is, tiie law being made for the ;
purpose.
Demoerath in tiie highest, best sense of ■
the word, Mr. Jefferson now buckled on
bis armor tw wage war with the aristoc
racy of Virginia The contest was stub
born. bitter and protracted, but his tri
umph was complete in the end, lie. un
fettered the land, changed the tenure
from fee-tail to fee simple, made the soil
democratic, ami made tfie law to corre
spond. Henceforth the family estate was
to be divided equally among all the chil
li rem
CHAPTER XVIf
There was a union of church and state
in Virginia, ns there was in other colo
nies, and as there was in the various
countries of Europe. Asia and Africa.
From Dahomey to London the law was
the same. The priest taught the people
to obey the king, the king commanded
the people to support the priest. Fright
ful laws against treason safeguarded the
power of the king, and were upheld by
the priest; laws equally terrible screened
the priest from criticism, ami were en
forced by the king The people obeyed
both, paid both, and were cruelly mal
treated by both.
Written in London ami sent over to
the colony, the Virginia laws against
heresy were as savage a set as ever dis
graced the books. Had the early Vir
ginians been as much given to pious
practices as the Puritan brethren of i
New England, there might have been a
reign of religious terror south as there
Was north. Fortunately f..r humanity,
the early Virginian was an easy-going,
generous-tempered mortal who never
could have found luxury in whipping
bate shouldered women, pressing old
men to death under pll< s of stone, tor
turing little children to extort evidence
against their parents, and fattening the
gallows upon the rottening bodies of
witches and Quakers.
The Virginia code, written under the
supervision of London ecclesiastics, was
bloody enough to have pleased Loyala or
Calvin, but It was treated us all Chris
tian nations now treat the sublime moral
code of Christ—all believe and none prac
tice.
Open, defiant rebellion against tiie
church would have been put down in
Virginia; and when Baptists ami Quak
ers came noisily along disturbing every
body In the effort to teach them some
thing and make them think, the con
servatives who already l knew all they
wanted ami who did not wish to think,
rose up and asserted the rights of tiie
orthodox.
The fussy, clamorous Baptist having
•been pot in the well-ventilated pen
which they called prison, he was left to
preach through the cracks to whoever
would listen; while the parson, the mag
istrate, the squire, the vestrymen and
the faithful members of the church, all
took a drink, mounted their horses,
blowed horns for the dogs and galloped
off on a fox hunt. In other words, there
was orthodoxy established by law in
Virginia, but there was no Inquisition to
enforce it. Pharisees did not torture
their neighbors - to death on the pretense
of saving souls.
What the Virginians really objected to
was the compulsory payment, of tithes.
The pocket nerve was the seat of tho
pain. After the coming of such gov
ernors as Fauquier with, their liberal
THE WEEKLY CONSTITUTION: ATLANTA. GA.. MONDAY. JULY 27. 1903.
views, skeptical books, irreverent con
versation and non-pious lives, free
thought made long jumps in Virginia.
Such professors as Dr. Small made a
different atmosphere at William and
Mary; ami from the college halls it
spread throughout the state. The father
of James Madison sent him north hop
ing to preserve the lad's orthodoxy from
tiie contamination of the home school.
As liberal principles advanced. the
number of people who could believe in
the creed which Henry VIII had made
for himself grew steadily less; yet un
der the law they had to keep on paying
the parson.
Tiie stale church—this Henry VIII
Church of England—was neither Cath
olic nor Protestant, but a mixture of
both, without tin? strong points of either,
and to free thinkers it was peculiarly
offensive. 'To be compelled to give it
glebe ami temple, house and home, blind
reverence and liberal support, was intol
erable.
Thomas Jefferson led the assault.
“Vested interests" made the usual out
cry. Its voice is ever the same. The
contest was long and stubborn, the in
ertia of conservatism, prejudice, cus
tom, family pride, fixed habit, and timid
conscience hard to overcome; but the
Una of the reformers continued to ad
vance. It took years to finish the work,
tint it was finished. The bloody old. laws
of superstition and bigotry were repeal
ed. Mind and tongue were unfettered.
Religious liberty came to all. The
Church of England was put on an equal
footing with ail other denominations.
Voluntary offerings of the faithful must
support it. its glebe, its temple, : ts
lands and houses were confiscated and
given to tiie poor; the people had given,
the people took away.
it was the fortune of James Madison
to finish Lie work which Mr. Jefferson
had begun, but when the task was at
last done it was no more than Mr.
Jefferson had proposed at t !*•: begin
ning.
Justly proud of this glorious victory
for human progress, he ranked it as
equal to the Declaration of Independ
ence, and asked that Ills monument bo
Inscribed with It.
Working with Edmund Pendleton and
George Wythe, Mr. Jefferson went over
the entire judicial system of the colony,
remodeling the law and the courts. Tiie
labor was enormous. These gentlemen
not only reported bills creating a thor
ough system--high courts and low but
they framed one hundred ami twentv
six separate bills embodying changes In
the old code. All these measures dld
not go into effect at once. The worl» ex
tended over a series of years Much of
It was finally done when Mr. Jefferson
had gone to other fields; but the scheme
of reform was completed along the lines
which he had begun, ami little if any
departure was made from his plan.
The subject of negro slavery was ono
will* l> had occupied Mr Jeff
thoughts for many years. He was an
original abolitionist. In the fiist house 1
of burgess> s to which lie was elected he I
nad caused to be Introdm ed a bill in be
half of the slaves. It met prompt defeat.
In the Declaration of Independence he
had written a clause denouncing the in
human traffic Congress struck it out.
He now prepared a carefully considered. I
but perhaps imprictleable plan, tor grad
ual emancipation The outlook for the
measure was so unfavorable that be did
not even have it introduced. His bill to
prohibit the further importation of slaves
passed without opposition.
Realizing that democracy must rest i
upon tiie education of the masses, Mr.
J> ffersoti formulated a complete system of
public schools from the primary grade
on up to tiie state university, and a pub
lie library. He was too far in advance of
his time, and Ids plans could not be put
into operation. The rich man declined to
tax himself to educate the poor man’s
child. In the south of today we not only
edm ate the poor white, but we tax - our
selves heavily to educate rhe negroes—
another advantage not enjoyed by them
in Africa.
A liberal naturalization a<t was the
Work of Mr. Jefferson; and he was Instru
mental In effecting the removal of the
state capital from Williamsburg to Rich
mond.
Much of Mr. Jefferson's work during
this period of reformation was done at
Montlcelo The state of Mrs. Jefferson s
health was the cause of great anxiety.
A daughter. Jane, who was fragile from
h r birth, died in September, H 76. aged
about a year and a half A son born in
May, 1777, died in Jme of the same
year. <!>•
in 177‘J the four thousand captives of
Saratoga were sent to Virginia and sta
tioned mar <'harlottsvllle. Among them
wre many Germans whose “divine right"
r tiers of the “I and God" sort had sold
them to the foreign service.
The manner in which Mr. Jefferson set
the example of treating these unfortun
ates kindly speaks loudly for the native
generosity of his character. From lieu
tenants up to generals lie made them wel
come to Ids 11.ime, his books, his grounds,
his gardens, his musical instruments, his
philosoplii'al apparatus, ami ills hospita
ble board. Evenings at Monticello must
have b“<-n pleasant to the captives who
talked with Jefferson, played duets wdth
him, and enjoyed his wines, fruits and
vegetables in the free-and-easy style
which be so much enjoyed, it made the
major general and the baron stare when
the young subaltern got the same treat
ment given to themselves; just as it made
the diplomats lust stare, and then howl,
when Jefferson, the president, practiced
the same rule at tiie executive mansion
in 1801.
Madam de R. idesel, wife of General de
Reldesel, who was one of the prisoners,
says that she warn cruelly insulted by th?
ladies of Boston; and that tire wife and
daughter of another royalist (Captain
Fenton) were stripped naked, tarred and
feathered and paraded through the streets
of that city. Be this as it may, she was
not insulted in Virginia, although she
rode horseback like a man a trying sight
in spite of all that can be said.
Among the captives were musicians, In
cluding tiddlers, and they always spoke
with enthusiasm of the evening concerto
at Monticello. Captain Bibby ami Mr.
Jefferson played duets together; and Bib
by used to declare, long afterwards, that
Mr. Curtis rays that sheriffe In Virginia,
since that reform, have not been required to
gouge out eyes, and to bite off the noses
of criminals. Since that time! The reader
of "The True Thomas Jefferson” derives some
queer ideas of Virginia from Mr. Curtis' re
markatle hook.
•(1) Mr. William Eleroy Curtis In hie
“True Jefferson" says that nil of the six
children of Mr. Jefferson were girls. Mr.
Curtis Is tn error, us he so often Is,
• • -J- •n-•-b•4* *• 4- • • *!• •4 1 • •*b • *i* •4*•4* •4* • ••!
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ts ‘
4
I
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Jefferson was the finest amateur per
former ho ever heard.
CHAPTER XVIII.
When Virginia got rid of I.ord Dun
more, she placed Patrick Henry hi tiie
vacant place; and for three successive
terms of a year each he had been chief
magistrate.
The candidates before tho legislature to
succeed Henry were Thomas Jefferson
and his old friend, schoolmate and confi
dential correspondent, John Page, In
whose cupola at Rosewell tradition mis
takenly 1 says that the first, draft of the
Declaration of Independence was written.
The contest was purely political, neither
candidate took any part in It; Mr. Jeffer
son was elected by a few votes majority;
and manly John Page wrote him a hand
some letter of congratulation. A big
hearted patriot was this rich master of
Rosewell, the largest mansion In Virginia.
Tho time was soon to como when the
American soldiers would need lead, and
then tho Hon. John Page was to prove
the quality of his patriotism by stripping
the leaden roof from his grand house in
order that Washington's muskets should
not lack bullets.
It was on June 1. 1779, that Mr. Jeffer
son entered upon his duties as governor
of Virginia; and his biographer gets the
Idea that this was one office that he af
terwards regretted having accepted.
Away from the halls where statesmen
debate and vote; away from the quiet
looms where laws are changed and peace
ful reforms planned; away l from hearth
and home, from sunny field and rumbling
mill, and busy mart of trade; let us look
to the camp whom tiie soldier sleeps, the
road along which he marches, the battle
wherein he tights. The brain may con
ceive, and tho tongue proclaim, and the
pen record, but it is the sword which
must transform dreams into facts, decla
rations Into deeds.
We look tack through the gathering
mists of the years and we see, as in a
dim and distant vision, tho hurrying
events of the great struggle for inde
pendence.
We see the dead and dying heroes of
Lexington and Concord borne off the field
to clean New England homes; we hear
the wails of wives and children as tho
blood of the martyrs drips upon the floor.
We hear tiie shouts of fury as the min
ute men run to their guns. We see the
British scurry along the road back to
Boston dropping -by the dozens, by the
scores, by 1 the hundreds—bet ween two
lines of fire.
We see England's army shut up In tho
city and held there by' militia whose lead
ers are lawyers, doctors, farmers, me-
chanics.
We witness the charges of tiie British
regulars against t.e yankee mdltia at
Bunker Hill—the two wish h fail, the
third which wins; and we see tiie un
broken yankees, m l of ammunition,
slowly leave a field Wlie ■■ the glory of the
anttn 1 telnmi.’. v tc-'lrs.
\y e see the ro o t fa <’s at doors and
windows as Washington rides by to t am
bridge; we see the f i <n of Ills sword,
under the great elm, «.-■ he takes com
mand of the army.
We see the line of ste■■! drawn about the
British in Boston, we itch the fleet as
It sails awav t > Il.iiif >.
The gallant Irishma . Richard Mont
gomery. comes down Lm. 1 t'lmrnplain and
takes Montreal. Bened: t Arnold rushes
1., join him with 1,909 -n, through the
frozen woods of Maim an awful, awf I
march.
The. unite. M .nig and Arnold,
and assailed Quebec, if- the veriest, nar
rowest chance, they fad. A sailor wno
had run from his post, the otb.w I'.rd
ish sentries had done, turns back In tho
driving snow s torm of this I i«t Dee. ni
ter night of 177.' and peaches ff a graae
charged cannon. Ti ■ discharge sweeps
awav the head <f American column,
killing or wounding every tnan who
marches at the frt.m sa.ve A run Burr.
Montgomery is amo> ■ the slab.
Day Is just dawning January 1. 1776.
. . om e -nt ma i
to take the dead ■'mbr's pl Ce. Bun
ts ‘’Go on Go I" but 1< ■
refuse to budge- tab. 'idle the. should b-,
'he British r -over frvß
■ n ’ ddl Is over.
The small American f< roe is pt to flight.
"Bittle Burr” run; hrougl t
bearing upon ills si; ildi-rs ie v if
Montgomery.
We s. e the Brltb cma l»a< I. an<l
hov'l about New V r l<- '• 11 I’Kttle of
Leng Isl id is so ls '
,1 and loses at • loners. He
is hemmed up by o' rwh'lnUg nuniner.-.
can he escape?
Brave Nathan La . ml"' ,F 1 r ° 1,1 his
hands, and goes int tte BOsh lines to
gather information forth desperately
■ ns '5 relative
knows him through his dislise arid de
nounces him as a spy- * hegiet only
that I have but oi life give to my
vi .. e .e ;■ >es to his
death.
Tbe British g ne'.il Is ® slowest of
mortals, and, withal, a gOtiWhig. Sydney
George Flsh.-r and <>t her Suspect that
Howe did not really Wish* be too bat 1
on Washington.
Net eons, ions of till- l> r emeditated
leniency. Washington is ;.nn‘>>'t anxious
for his army, ami on the 3 *- tossy night
lie slips away.
The negro whom tire t woman sent,
during the nigl t, to ft 11 Ijlr that V-
ton wis m Ing iff, f'lbt-. the hands
of Hessians, 1 ... ild • more under-
stand t te m ;ro than ® negro could
lerstand them; so thSpssenger was
kept under Hessian gua until morning,
at which time the merS® "'-•s stale—
for 'Washington had giudK boat to New
York.
Howe gets in motion | as f, captures
New York, beats Wa.- at White
Plains, takes Port Wio>K> on and its
garrison of .1,500 men a turning blow.
Washington reels thr® the Jerseys
and black despair ho® over Valley
Forge.
Will no friends be ra.< so J n other
purls of the world? llt’hurnan hear.s
In foreign lands no gen-W sympathy, no
heroic enthusiasm?
We turn to Canada Fliaps the help
ing hand will be str*®'* t° ,ls Irorn
there. Charles Carrol® 7 Carrollton,
glorious patriot of I\I:®* ! 'I- will brave
the hardships of a pllg a P' through the
\\ ilderness- -Benjamin tUalm going too,
In spite of iris seven l r ® ars - 'H to no
purpose. Canadian C:*# [-s have been
affronted by certain c< ’essfonal publica
tions, and England *tfs them timely
concession; sta >’ at homo
and mind their own ’Ufss.
But from other lan-fIP comes.
The Dutch will iendgm'mey and give
us countenance, beimjji first of all the
world to do so.
General LaFayetteU* come from
[ France—come In spite of all attempts of
king and relatives to prevent him. Poland
will send her Immortals—Kosciusko and
Pulaski, hearts of gold. DeKalb will
come, Stueben will come.
Ireland will send men who know how to
die, and France will, at a later day, range
her lilies beside our stars.
Generous enthusiasm for liberty, for
democracy It burned brightly In those old
days! Those were days in which soldiers
Lelleved they fo.nght to establish a new
system of government on this caste-cursed
earth.
The great war moves on. Washington
dashes through a snow storm and cap
tures tin? one thousand Hessians at Tren
ton —encouraging but not decisive.
Burgoyno surrenders at Saratoga—again
encouraging but not by any 1 means de
cisive, Professor Creasy to the contrary
notwithstanding.
With varying fortunes battles are
fought. Now ami then Washington wins;
tiie rule is that he does not win. Fac
tions divide congressional councils. There
is a. plot to throw Washington out. The
Adamses aro said to bo deep in it. Sa
vannah falls, Charleston falls; Boston is
the only considerable port In our nands.
Mad Anthony 1 Wayne makes a brilliant
dash at Stony Point, but the place is
not held a week. Gates Is annihilated at
Camden. The heavens are blac.lr, the pa
triotic puls?' beats low; the faint-hearted
are ready to give up.
Benedict Arnold believes that congress
has been unjust to him and the splendid
soldier became a traitor. Almost the
American cause s ruined; almost, bul
not quite. Great Britain can buy Arnold,
the officer; It has not gold enough to
buy the humble farmers who nab Andre.
His lino watch, his gold, his frantic
offers of wealth, avail nothing against
tluse stern patriots of the north. He has
taken his risk; he has lost; he must pay.
High on the gibbet he swings, like any
other spy; and Arnold flees to his traitor’s
reward, glad to escape with Ins life.
West Point is safe.
Thomas Paine can be heard through
tho gloom, the burden of his song being
"Never say die!" As far as inspired pen
can go in sustaining a cause, his goes.
Indeed, it is a time that tries men’s souls.
Looming above all we see the grand
figure of Washington, steady as a. stone
mountain. No danger daunts him; no
disaster shakes him. The times call for
patience; he has it. For resources; he
finds them. For courage and fortitude;
I.is never fall. For splendid self-sacrifice;
ho makes It Beaten today, he will fight
again tomorrow, t'ndermined by treason,
discouraged by apathy, fretted by con
gress ami by state governors, he locks It
ah in his own breast, arid to the enemy
presents the unruffled front. Ho will not
lv.;.r of compromise. He will stoop to no
concessions. When his nephew writes him
that some British officers have been en
tertained at Mount Vernon as a matter
of policy, he writes a rebuke,: Let them
burn the house if they will; Mount Ver-
,1 I)!
■ Heroic? Yes, sublimely heroic. The
; world has presented no finer spectacle.
And that which Is the most Inspiring
In the glorious example is the fact that
i Washington's greatness was not due so
much to Intellect as to character. He
i was great because he was brave, reso
lute, pure, devoted, right-minded and
■■' ' Fron :'. ■ ■ straight
duty he was not to be tempted, frighten
ed. discouraged or misled. And from the
oracle of fate fie would not taka no for
answer. He would fight till he won or HU
be died.
1 lius lie rose above all rivals—not thtnk
. qr of n-alry. He became not our great
i't intellect, not our greatest statesman.
>■ >t our gri afest soldier, but our greatest
ma n.
CHAPTER XIX.
' We look out toward the sea and we
wonder whether any light of hope can be
cieic. where the Eiiglish have so long
domineered, a.id the colonies ha-ve neither
ships of war nor sailors trained in fight.
VV ho Is this that starts out from hls
1 iiglnta home to hold "the ocean lists"
"against a world in mall?" Henry
< »l lodge, of Massachusetts, wrote a
tw- volume history of tiie American rev
olution, gave a page of text to Paul Re
vere. besides th- page? of pictures, and to
John Paul Jones he gave- how much?
Just one sentence!
Woodrow Wilson wrote a five-volume
book; gave six pages of pictures and
text to "the Boston massacre" and to
John Paul Jones he gave two pages; otto
-for tiie picture and ono for tho text.
And yet it would seem that tho first
naval hero who ever baptized the Stars
and Stripes tn the fire of ocean battle,
and ocean triumph doing R against the
greatest sea power on earth—deserved
more space in national history than the
easy ride of a courier or the doings of
:i street mob.
We see the small, black-haired, black
eyed youngster start out from old Fr«D
ericksbucg and begin his work as lieuten
ant. (December, 1775.)
We see him haul up to the mast head
of the I’rovldence “the first ling that
ever flew from a regularly commissioned
warship of the i nited Colonies of Amer-
We see him rise to the command of
the ship, and with her cruise for prizes
in Newfoundland waters, where he takes
sixteen, and wins his earliest laurels.
With the Alfred he again roams the sea
for priz-s. and gains them. His service
to the cause Is valuable, even brilliant,
but he yearns for larger fields, and deeds
of greater daring. We see this bold
Scotchman beg congress for a sea fight
er's task; we see film get on board a lit
tle wooden tub carrying eighteen guns,
and the Ranger steers for the British
isles.
In the Irish channel she cruises fear
lessly; at Whitehaven the glare of burn
ing shipping tells tho startled English
that Hie colonies propose to carry the
torch across the sea. At Carrickfergus the
twenty-gun sloop of war, Drake, is fought
and captured, and the dauntless Jones
sails away to France dragging after him
in triumph tiie British wir vessel and a
string of captured merchantmen.
In 1779 we see the colonies retaliate on
Great Britain the coast ravages from
which America had suffered, it is John
Paul Jones who lets England see from
her own homes what war is. With tin
old patched up Indiaman, hastily con
verted into a fighting ship, and three 1
other merchantmen turned into war ves
sels- all these being furnished us bj
France- the coasts of Great Britain are
thrown into such an excitement as they
had not known since the days when Van
4i4*»*!*«4*«4:«4*»4*«4'«4*«4*«4*»*t*«4*»*!*« •4-«4»e-}>e4 i «4*«4 i »4**'l*«4*«4**4-»4' > *I'*4*»4-»T»
T (
?• I # By * j
Thos. E. Watson, x
*' Author of •
? ■ •
“GZje tStory o/ France,
• i “Napoleon,” Etc. ?
• I *
• ( Copyright, 1903, by That. £. IVatton—Jtll Right*
■s* 1 ju
Tromp swept <lhe channel with his
broom.
Read the Introduction to Scott's “Wa
verly" and note how great Is the terror
of the natives when Jones' little fleet
comes sailing into the Frith from Forth.
Great, great is the relief when God seems
to answer frantic prayers by send
ing the gale which sweeps Jones out to
Only a few days later he is back again,
this time in the river llumlier, where
again he destroys English vessels. Then
comes the Immortal fight with the Sera
pis.
In the annals of war, on land On sea,
there is nothing like It—Nothing that
rivals It in bull dog pluck and intelligent
desperation.
The Serapis Is a heavier craft than the
Bon Horn.ruo Richard —carries more guns,
better guns, more men and better men.
The hope of the Richard is John Paul
Jones. At the Very first fire two of the oid
guns on the Richard burst, killing a
dozen men. All that part of the ship
and armament is abandoned. Only the
guns on the upper deck can now be used
—her 12-pounders throwing but 204 pounds
on a 'broadside when the Serapis threw
300 pounds. So the tight goes on, nearly
an hour. Maneuvering for position, both
ships cease firing, and the British cap
tain, Pearson, calls out, “Have you
struck your colors?"
Through the darkness, for it is night,
comes back the voice of Jones:
“I have not yet begun to fight!”
Together come the two ships, and Jones
lashes them with a rope. The head of the
one lays opposite the stern of the other.
Grappling hooks reinforce the hold of the
ropes. In deadly embrace the two ships
are locked; and now it is such a battle a s
old ocean has never seen.
Yard-arms interlocked, some of the J
guns useless for lack of space to handle
the rammers, broadsides thunder, the i
balls rake the decks at point-blank range.
Timbers are shivered, cannon torn from
carriages, the boards covered with the
dying and the dead.
The September moon floods land and sea
with light. On the coast clusters of peo
ple watch the battle. The beacon light
of Flamborough bead glares across the
Waters; and those Who are on the ships
can see the fortress of Scarborough cas
tle and the English vessels which nestfc?
under its guns.
The Richard seems a beaten ship. One
side Is blown out where the guns had
burst; the decks above had bee.n shatter
ed; one by one the cannon are silenced;
from the mainmast aft the wfhole side Is
beaten in; shot from the Serapls pass
clean through; transoms are knocked out,
stern frames cut to pieces; only a few
stanchions hold up the decks.
To add to the terror of the night, fire
breaks out time and again.
And strangest of all, the commander of
one of the smaller vessels of Jones' fleet,
a crazy French captain, l.andais, sails up
to the combatants and pours three broad
ald' s into the English t ivo. into cue as
tounded Americans! Then he sadle away,
leaving killed and wounded as the fruit of
his visit.
The guns in the main battery have
fired their last shots. The Richard be
gins to leak. The carpenter loses hfs
head, and begins to shriek "We sink! we
sink!"
The master at arms thinks all Is over.
He releases the prisoners, and cries out,
“To the decks, eveiybody! The ship Is
sinking!”
The English prisoners scramble up the
hatchways fighting desperately with each
other to reach the deck. The carpenter
runs screaming, "Quarter! Quarter!"
Panic is about to seize the whole crew.
Frantically tho carpenter tries to haul
down the flag. Officers and men call out
to Jones that lie must surrender. The
British hear the uproar, and again Pear
son calls, "Have you struck?"
"No!" shouts Jones as he dashes out the
brains of the carpenter with the butt of
a pistol.
The British try to board the Richard.
Jones rallies his men, meets the boarders
pike in hand, and drives them back.
The fight grows more desperate than
ever. Officers and men go back to their
posts. British prisoners are maxle to
work the pumps. Others fight tire. The
surgeon advises Jones to give it up; water
has overflowed the cock-pit; the ship can
not be fought longer; her battery is si
lenced.
Jones makes a jest, of It—calls for the
doctor to lend a band In placing a gun.
He himself helps to drag it In polstion.
Only three nine-founders, on the upper
deck, are left in action. These he trains
upon the main mast of the Serapis.
What ia this huge black shadow which
comes gliding in between tho two fight
ers axd tiie harvest moon.
It is the crazy Landais again. In spite
of cries of warning, in spite of the private
night signals that the Richard displays,
the addled Frenchman pours three broad
sides into the almost dismantled Richard!
And again, Landais sails away, leaving
killed and wounded on the American deck
as the fruit of his visit.
By sheer force of will and indomitable
pluck Jones drives the men back to their
places, and the fight goes on.
Sharp-shooters are in the rigging pick
ing off every Englishman who shown his
head. Hand grenades are pitched intb
the port holes to destroy the gunners
at their guns. Away out on the yard arm
of the Bon Homme Richard crawls a
daring sailor who drops a bomb through
the hatchway of the Serapis, where It
explodes a row of cartridges lying on the
main deck.
Twenty-eight of the English are killed
or desperately wounded.
This is the turning point in the battle.
The British cannot recover from the
blow. Their tire slackens. The Ahuerlcan
ship is really in the worse plight of the
two, but they fight on witli ferocious per
sistence, and the British do not know
that tiie Americans are about to sink.
An English prisoner makes his way
from Jones’ ship to the Serapis to tell
them there to light on- that the Richard
is beaten.
He Is too late by the merest fraction of
time.
Pearson has lost heart. He tears down
his flag and calls out that he has struck.
Richard Dale, of the American ship,
knows tiie value of hurry, of decision, and
he gives Pearson no chance to recon
sider.
Even while the British lieutenant is try
ing to wedge in a word of remonstrance
and doing his best to tell his superior
officer the true state of affairs on the
Richard, the Importunate Dale hastens
Pearson on board the American ship, a
prisoner.
For fear the lieutenant may run below
and start the Serapis to firing again.
Dale forces him to follow Pearson.
After all the heroism tin skill and the
carnage the final result turns on the
nerve of Jones and the presence of mind
of Dale.
It is a death-strewn deck where the
short, slender Jones, hatless, bleeding
from a wound in the face, and begrime 1
with powder stains, stands proudly with
his drawn sword in his hand to receive
the formal surrender of the British cap
tain.
The light of the autumn moon Is above
him; the light of hls burning ship Is be
hind him. His poor old Richard a wreck,
torn almost into splinters; it Is filling
with water; it Is literally choked with
the dead; the deck upon which he stands
Is slippery with blood.
But it is the Englishman who gives up
his sword, and it Is the Stars and Stripes
that still tlies at the masthead.
After the Serapis surrenders to the
Richard, it is the Richard which sinks
Jones and his crew and his English
prisoners all pass over to the captured
Serapis. The two vessels Wave hardly
been loosened from their long death
gappie before the Richard slowly settles
to her long home in the deep.
This victory, won in sight of tho Eng
lish coast, resounds throughout the civil
ized world.
The empress of Russia, the kings of
Denmark and of France honor him with
ribbons and orders of merit which
amount to nothing and pensions which
were never paid, but so far as fame is a
reward, Paul Jones reaps it. He is
spoken of with admiration in every ga
zette, case, salon and street group in
the old world and the new.
in generous England he is denounced
as a pirate, and Holland is asked to give
him up that ho might be hanged. The
Dutch refuse, but, to save the people
from the effects of British wrath,, Jones
seeks safety In France.
CHAPTER XX.
The war grows more savage. The
French alliance enrages Great Britain;
and tho English begin to ravage, burn,
slay) In cold blood, committing every out-*
rage known to war.
Prisoners are barbarously maltreated,
women suffer nameless wrongs, m»n who
have surrendered are mercilegply butcher
ed.
Tills frightful change in the methods of
J the war !s< felt most In the south.
British marauders break into Virginia,
and go out unhurt; Patrick. Jient
Ing governor. They break in again and
sack Richmond, the traitor Arnold in
cominapd; and go forth unpunished. Mr.
Jefferson being governor.
"Virginia has been stripped, exhaust'd,
to supply Washington at tiie north, and
Gates at the south; yet many accuse Mi
Jefferson of negligence an<l incompeteir
for not rallying a home guard, and gi\-
, Ing battle tp save Richmond.
Had. Mr, Jefferson been a John Sbi.-
•Tames Robertson, or Andrew Jackson,
he might have done better; but it is
reasonably* certain that no governor, wh ■
was not xt. military genius, could hav
prepared the scattered miiit -t and b-rl
It successfully against this su Iden ■
vaslon.
It Is true that Washington had sent
warning that a British fleet was raak
Ing toward Virginia; but the water
front of Virginia is so vast, a fleet can
strike at so many different Tjac-.s that it
was impossible to knew when and where
to have the militia assemble.
In the lower southern states the si: na
tion has a peculiarity ill its own Tin
is no large American army under :he
general cornmand of some overshadowing
figure, but there are a dozen sm.'O
armies, flying columns, under chiefs whose
names are almost unknown to history,
but whose services were of priceless va'u
to the cause.
As a rule, those partisan bands had
nothing to Jo with Washington’s move
ments, np £ he with theirs. As a. rule, he
knew nothing of they intended to d->
until it was done. A.q a rule, they cali-d
on him for no help of any kind, nor did
congress bear the burden of thejr r»'ces
sities. Generally they drew their sup
plies from the territory in which they
operated. Horses, guns, ammunition,
food, recrults-all camo from the soutiH
eru colonies.
Chief of those partisan leaders was
General Francis Marion, "the Swamp
1'ox; next was General Thomas Sump-
ter. "the Game Cock”- heroes of Scuta
(!aro.lna. Second to these came such men
as Pickens, Horry, Lacey, Hampton an 1
Henderson.
In North Carolina there were such dash
ing leaders as Sevier, Shelby, Ashe. W il
liams and McDowell.
In Georgia the bands wyre led and
fought by Generals Elijah Clarke. John
1 wiggs, James uii'niaii Mcln
tosh, James Screven, Samuel Elbert and
John White.
These partisan leaders are ever in the
saddle savannah may fail; Augusta
and Charleston may surrender, but tnu
British conquest! stops at thtt limit of tne
British wiiip. in tile interior resistance
holds it head up all the time. The 11a ■
never ceases to lly.
in vain Cornwallis comes with huge
regiments; in vain Tarleton and Ferguson
raid and ravage the land; they can mu
stamp out the rebellion. Heavy batta.-
ions may wm tins battle and that
lie; but on the morrow will come Marion
ami Bumpier ana J wiggs am; claim
light agum.
Chase inesu partisans from Georgia,
amt they give battle m me Car0n,,,,.,'
Cna.se them Horn the Carolinas ana in,-
are back in Georgia, as reaay lor tmi
it ay as before.
A score ot southern leaders tight as
many pitched battles wm n are not .-a
much as mentioned m me books ol gen
eral history, ana some of these ligms
were brilliant little victories lor the Aim , -
ican cause.
The triumphs of Elijah Clarke and Sam
uel Hammond over a portion of Fergu
sons command aj Cedar Springs in July,
17S0; the success of these officers, aided
by Williams and Shelby, at Musgroves
Mil s in August, 17t>0, were the important
preludes to that crowning achievement
which was soon to follow.
The names of these battles, and tn a
names of the splendid officers who won
them, do not appear In the bulky ”his
tcry” of Woodrow Wilson, nor in that of
Henry Cabot Lodge.
Braver, worthier soldiers than Twiggs,
Hammond. Hampton and Lacey never fol
lowed a banner into battle; yet they, and
a dozen others who might be instanced,
get no mention whatever in histories that
are copious on Betty Stark. Moll Pitcher,
Paul Revere and Nathan Hale.
TO BE CONTINUED.
