About The Atlanta constitution. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1885-19?? | View Entire Issue (July 27, 1903)
4 f , *4*»4*4**4**4’«4**4*«4*«4*e4 > *4-e4'*4**4*»4*«4**4*' i 4**4**4**4*«4*«4*e4*«4**4**4*«4*«4**4**4**4**4**4'»4*«4**4**4*«4*»4*«4*«4'«4*«4*«4*«4*«4*«4“ 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* • ••! • > J •! ts ‘ 4 I ji 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.
