The Hand of Providence

At this juncture a remarkable political writer made his appearance. From the discipleship of Calvin, from the republic of Geneva, from the abodes of poverty, Jean Jacques Rosseau came as the advocate of the poor and the oppressed. Through him the "sons of toil" breathed out their wrongs, and a new class gained a voice in the world of published thought. Though full of weaknesses and jealousies and betrayed by poverty into shameful deeds, he possessed a deep and real feeling for humanity. In an age of skepticism he solaced the ills of life by trust in God. Fearlessly questioning all the grandeurs of the world, he breathed the spirit of revolution into words of flame. What though the church of Rome cursed his writings with her ban; and parliaments burned them at the gibbet by the hangman's hand! What though France drove him from her soil, and the republic of his birth disowned her son! What though the wise and noble hooted at his wildness! Yet from the woes of the world in which he had suffered, from the wrongs of the down-trodden which he had shared, he derived an eloquence that went to the heart of the masses of Europe. Beyond most men of his time he saw the hand of Providence in the history of men.

"Nor God alone in the still calm we find,He mounts the storm and rides upon the wind."

Institutions may crumble and governments fall, but it is only that they may renew a better youth; the petals of the flower wither that fruit may form. On the banks of the stream of time not a great deed has been done by a hero, or monument raised by a nation, but tells the story of human progress. Each people that has disappeared, every great institution that has passed away, has been but a step in the ladder by which humanity ascends to a higher plane. The generations that handed the truth, from rank to rank down the ages, have themselves become dust; but the light still increases its ever-burning flame. From the intelligence that had been slowly ripening sprang the American revolution. While Rosseau was putting his burning thoughts in print, and Voltaire, the prince of scoffers, was hurling his venomed shafts of sarcasm at the priesthood of the Roman church, farther north was the little country, Holland, which had already gained a large share of civil and religious liberty. Here thought ranged through the wide domain of speculative reason; here the literary fugitive found an asylum, and the boldest writings, which in other countries were circulated by stealth, were openly published to the world.

While the learned and thoughtful men of Europe were thinking, the pioneers of America were acting. Nothing could restrain them from peopling the wilderness. To be a land-owner was the ruling passion of the New England man. In general, marriages were early and very fruitful. The sons, as they grew up skilled in the use of the ax and the rifle, would, one after another, move from the old homestead; and, with a wife, a yoke of oxen, a cow and a few necessary implements, build a small hut in the forest and by dint of industry soon win for themselves plenty and independence. The beautiful lines of Albert B. Street well describe the circumstances as well as the character of the men who founded American institutions and moulded the national character:

"His echoing ax the settler swungAmid the sea-like solitude,And rushing, thundering down were flungThe Titans of the wood.Loud shrieked the eagle as he dashedFrom out his mossy nest, which crashedWith its supporting bough,And the first sunlight leaping flashedOn the wolf's haunt below."Rude was the garb, and strong the frameOf him who plied his ceaseless toil:To form the garb, the wild-wood gameContributed their spoil;The soul that warmed that frame disdainedThe tinsel gaud and glare, that reignedWhere men their crowds collect;The simple fur untrimmed, unstained,This forest tamer decked."His roof adorned a pleasant spot,'Mid the black logs, green glowed the grain,And fruits and plants the woods knew notBloomed in the sun and rain.The smoke-wreath curling o'er the dell,The lowing herds—the tinkling bell,All made a landscape strange.Which was the living chronicleOf deeds that wrought the change."Humble the lot, yet his the race,When liberty sent forth her cry,Who thronged in conflict's deadliest placeTo fight—to bleed—to die;Who cumbered Bunker's hight of red.By hope through weary years were ledAnd witnessed Yorktown's sunBlaze on a nations banner spread–    A nation's freedom won."

A century and a half had now passed since the first colony had been planted on American soil. The colonists were fast ripening into fitness for independence. They had increased with marvelous rapidity. Europe never ceased to send forth her needy thousands. America opened wide her hospitable doors and gave assurance of liberty and comfort to all who came. The thirteen colonies now contained a population of about three millions.

Up to the year 1764, the Americans cherished a deep reverence and affection for the mother country. They were proud to be considered British subjects, and of the lofty place England held among the nations of the earth. They gloried in the splendor of her military achievements. They copied her manners and her fashions. Her language, laws and literature were as fondly cherished by the colonists as by the English themselves.

Why was it then that such a marvelous change should take place in the minds of the American people, during the next twelve years? In 1764 the colonists loved England as their mother country. In 1776 they had learned to despise her authority. They bound themselves, by solemn oaths, to use no article of English manufacture. They publicly burned the Acts of the English Parliament. They even killed the king's soldiers and cast from them forever his authority. By what terrible magic was this change wrought so swiftly: that three millions of people should be taught to abhor the country they once loved?

To answer this question rightly we must remember that the cause of the colonists was one of popular rights against royal prerogative, that the best and wisest men in England were in favor of the colonists; that even William Pitt, the greatest statesman England had ever seen, declared openly in Parliament, "I rejoice that America has resisted."

We must also bear in mind that for many years England had governed her American colonies harshly; and in a spirit of undisguised selfishness, America was ruled not for her own good but for the good of English commerce. The colonists were not allowed to export their products except to England. No foreign ships were permitted to enter colonial ports. Whatever were the exorbitant demands of English manufacturers or merchants, still the colonists were not permitted to buy at a cheaper market. Still more, certain goods, woolen for example, were not allowed to be sent from one colony to another. The manufacture of hats was forbidden, and even the Bible was not allowed to be printed in America.

The colonists had long borne the cost of their own government and defense. But in that age of profuse expenditure on useless wars, the king and nobility of England thought to gather from America's toiling sons the means to pay for their own misrule. The Parliament of England passed a law to tax America. The colonists replied they were willing to vote what moneys the king required of them; but they vehemently denied the right of any assembly, in which they were not represented, to take from them any portion of their property. Another law was also passed requiring a royal stamp to be placed on every legal document. Benjamin Franklin had been sent to England by the colonists. He went to plead their cause before the British government. He told them plainly that the colonists could not submit to such taxation. The act was to come in force on the first of November, 1763. On that day the church bells were tolled, and the people wore the aspect of those on whom some heavy calamity had fallen. Not one of the stamps was ever sold in America. Without stamps mercantile transactions ceased to be binding, notes were not legal, marriages were null. Yet the business of life went on. Men married; they bought; they sold—illegally, because without stamps; but no harm came of it.

England heard with amazement that America refused to obey the law. The great statesman, Pitt, denounced the act, and, at length, it was repealed. The repeal of the stamp act only delayed for a little the fast-coming crisis.

It was during this agitation that the colonists first felt the need of a commercial and political union. The idea of a general congress of the states was suggested, which soon afterwards met in the city of New York.

The king of England was still determined to tax America, and soon levied a tax on tea. The people determined they would drink no more tea rather than pay the tax. One day ships loaded with taxed tea arrived in Boston harbor. There was a great commotion; the men ran together to hold council. It was Sunday, and the people of Boston were very strict, yet here was an emergency in the presence of which all ordinary rules were suspended. The crisis had come at length. If that tea was landed, it would be sold; it would be used, and American liberty would become a by-word upon the earth.

The brave and liberty-loving Samuel Adams was the leading man of Boston at that time. He was a man in middle life just forty-two years of age, of cultivated mind and stainless reputation, a powerful speaker and writer, and a man in whose sagacity and moderation all men trusted. He resembled Cromwell in some particulars—his love of liberty, undaunted courage and trust in God. He was among the first to see that there was no resting place short of independence. He said: "Our forefathers were driven from the land of their birth in the cause of religious liberty. They made themselves homes in the wilds of America. We have earned a competence and are self-sustaining. We are free and need no king but God." The men of Boston felt the power of his resolute spirit and manfully followed where Samuel Adams led. Several days of excitement and discussion followed. People flocked in from the neighboring towns. The time was spent mainly in political meetings. At Fanueil Hall, in the churches and at the market place, the rights of the people were discussed. One day a meeting was held and the excited people continued in hot debate till the shades of evening fell. At length Samuel Adams stood up in the dimly lighted church and announced: "This meeting can do nothing more to save the country." With a stern shout the meeting broke up. Fifty men disguised as Indians hurried down to the wharf, each man with a hatchet in his hand. The crowd followed, and stood on the shore in silence while the so-called Indians went on board the ship, broke open the chests of tea and threw them and their contents into the sea. No wonder King George was in a rage. No wonder that he demanded that the guilty parties, if they could be found, should be sent to England for trial. The great statesman, William Pitt, also called the Earl of Chatham, pleaded for measures of conciliation; but all in vain. General Gage with four regiments was sent to Boston. He threw up fortifications and lay as in a hostile city. The colonists appointed a day of fasting and prayer. They knew that their cause was just. They looked to Him for protection, who "holds the nations in the hollow of His hand." They knew that He, who had guided them across the rolling deep and had preserved them in the wilderness, could also protect them from the rage and avarice of wicked men. They also formed themselves into military companies. They occupied themselves with drill. They laid up stores of ammunition. Most of them had muskets and could use them. He who had no musket, now got one. They hoped that civil war might be averted, but there was no harm in being ready. While these things were going on in Boston, a congress of delegates had met in Philadelphia and were busy discussing measures in regard to the troubles that were thickening around them. Twelve colonies were represented but Georgia, the youngest and feeblest colony, still paused timidly on the brink of the perilous enterprise. Some of the truly great men of America met in that congress. Of it the great Earl of Chatham said: "For genuine sagacity, for singular moderation, for solid wisdom the congress of Philadelphia shines unrivalled." That quaint old building where they met became one of the spots ever dear to the patriot's heart. Among the famous men assembled there were George Washington whose massive sense and copious knowledge attracted attention, and made him a guiding power, and Patrick Henry, then a young man. He brought to the council a wisdom beyond his years, and a fiery eloquence, which, to some of his hearers, seemed almost more than human. He had already shown that he was unfitted for farming or merchandising. He was now to prove that he could utter words which would sweep over a continent, thrill men's hearts like the most sublime strains of music, and rouse them up to high and noble deeds. There also was Richard Henry Lee, with his bewitching voice, his ripe scholarship, and rich stores of historical and political knowledge, which would have graced the highest assemblies of the old world. Nor should we forget to mention the noble-minded farmer, John Dickinson, whose published letters had done so much to form the public sentiment. His enthusiastic love of England was now overborne by a sense of wrong. And last, but by no means least, we may place on the list the name of Benjamin Franklin, the sage philosopher, the practical scientist, the shrewd diplomatist, the incorruptible patriot, the wise philanthropist. Such were some of the men whom God raised up to mould the character of the infant nation.

Still they did not wish for separation. They wished to have their wrongs redressed and continue British subjects. They drew up a narrative of their wrongs. They implored King George to remove those grievances. They even addressed the people of Great Britain, as subjects of the same empire, as men possessing common sympathies and common interests; yet they added that "they would not be 'hewers of wood and drawers of water' to any nation in the world." Had all the colonists been Englishmen or descendants of Englishmen no more could have been expected. When we recollect that they had been gathered from many nations and different climes, their subserviency to the interests of the British empire is remarkable. The colonists even appealed to their fellow-colonists in Canada for aid and sympathy. But Canada, newly conquered from France, was peopled almost wholly by Frenchmen. They were strangers to the religious struggles through which the more southern colonists had passed. And so from Canada there came no response of sympathy or help.

King George now determined to reduce the colonists to obedience. All trade with the colonies was forbidden. No ship of any nation was permitted to enter American ports or bring supplies to the settlers in America. In justice to the English people it should be said, that in those days they had no control over the government of their country. All this was managed for them by a few great families. Their allotted part was to toil hard, pay their taxes, and be silent. If they had been permitted to speak, their voice would have been on the side of popular rights. They would have vindicated the men who asserted the right of self-government—a right which the great mass of Englishmen were not to enjoy for many a long year after.

Two incidents occurred about this time which well illustrate the spirit of the people. It was the Sabbath morning before the battle of Lexington. The scene of the first is the Old South Church, itself rich with the mementos of the past. Its walls are lined with monuments. The burying-ground around the church is a picturesque spot and was first used about 1660. The trees interweave their branches above the tombs, and only pencil-rays of sunlight break the broad, cool shadows of the spot. The Boston branch of the Winslow family rests here, and here also sleeps the famous Mary Chilson, who is said to have been the first to step on shore from the Mayflower. She died in 1679. Here lie the remains of Governor John Winthrop; Hon. John Philips, the first mayor of the city; Robert Treat Paine, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence; and many others among which should not be forgotten the name of Paul Revere.

At this church the governor of the colony and other British government officials usually attended. On this beautiful April Sabbath morning they had come as usual; and the happy yet determined people were quietly talking and loitering among the graves of their ancestors. At length the pastor came, and they followed him into the church. The hymn they sang is known as the ninety-fourth psalm. It commences:

"O Lord our God, to whom alone, all vengeance doth belong;O mighty God, who vengeance ownest, shine forth avenging wrong,Thy folk they break in pieces, Lord, thine heritage oppress,The widow they and stranger slay, and kill the fatherless."

The pastor's text was Psalms xlvi., 1: "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

He spoke of the wrongs the colonists had endured, the position they held in regard to posterity, and the responsibility which rested upon them to plant the institutions of liberty for the benefit of future generations. Warming with his theme, he uttered sentences which caused the hearts of foes to quake and the hearts of friends to glow and burn within them. Standing on the platform of truth and right, he dared to hurl defiance at a tyrant king.

The governor, Berkley, interrupted the speaker, and, calling him a traitor, demanded that he should cease.

Some of the militia of Boston foreseeing the danger of the daring speaker had followed him to the church, and already stood in the vestibule. Just at that moment the trumpet sounded, the drums beat and the great church-bell rang out its clarion notes calling the citizens to arms. Such was the spirit of the people that the governor sought in vain to stay their indignation which swept like a flood over the land. With the Puritans liberty was a part of their religion.

The other incident occurred on the eve of the battle of Lexington.

Early in April 1775, General Gage learned that considerable stores of ammunition were collected at the village of Concord, eighteen miles from Boston, and he determined to capture them. Late on the night of April 18th, eight hundred soldiers set out on this errand. The patriots observed that there was something more than ordinary in progress. Companies of soldiers were massed on Boston common under pretense of learning a new military exercise.

Doctor, afterwards General, Joseph Warren, who fell at Bunker Hill, received notice of the design of the troops, and at once sent Paul Revere to arouse the country. It was agreed that a signal light should be placed in the tower of the Old North Church to notify the watchers of the direction the troops had taken—one if by land, two if by sea. Paul Revere then rowed across the stream to Charlestown. He was not a moment too soon. General Gage heard that his plans were discovered, and orders were at once given that no person should be allowed to leave Boston. Had these orders been given five minutes sooner, the whole course of the revolution might have been changed. As it was Revere reached the other side in safety. Having obtained a fleet and sure-footed steed he stood impatiently watching the belfry tower of the Old North Church. Meanwhile Warren, in disguise, wandered through the darkness and listened with eager ears till he heard the measured tread of the grenadiers marching down to the boats. Then with lantern in hand he climbed up into the belfry and a gleam of light shone over the dark and silent city. Paul Revere sprang into the saddle, but paused a moment and gazed until a second light gleamed out distinctly and clearly. Then

"A hurry of hoofs in a village street,A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,And beneath from the pebbles in passing, a sparkStruck out by the steed that flies fearless and fleet;That was all! And yet thro' the darkness and gloomThe fate of a nation was riding that night,And the spark struck out by the steed in his flightKindled the land into flame with its heat.It was twelve by the village clockWhen he crossed the bridge into Medford town.It was one by the village clockWhen he rode into Lexington.He saw the gilded weathercock swimIn the moonlight as he passed,And the meeting-house windows blank and bareGaze at him with a spectral glareAs if they already stood aghast,At the bloody work they would look upon.You know the rest. In the books you have readHow the British regulars fired and fled,How the farmers gave them ball for ball,From behind each fence and farm-yard wall,Chasing the red-coats down the lane,Then crossing the fields to emerge againUnder the trees, at the turn of the road,And only pausing to fire and load.So through the night rode Paul Revere;And so through the night went his cry of alarmTo every Middlesex village and farm—A cry of defiance and not of fear—A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,A word that shall echo for evermore!For, borne on the night wind of the pastThrough human history to the lastThe good shall pray and by faith shall hearA delivering foot-fall as of that steedAnd a midnight message as of Paul Revere."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE BOYS OF '76

BATTLE OF LEXINGTON—OFFICERS CHOSEN—A YEAR OF DISCUSSION—DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE—SPIRIT OF ENGLISH NOBILITY—DEFEAT OF AMERICAN FORCES—SUCCESS AT TRENTON AND PRINCETON—SUFFERINGS AT VALLEY FORGE—WASHINGTON'S PRAYER—BURGOYNE'S CAMPAIGN—ARRIVAL OF LA FAYETTE—ARNOLD'S TREASON—ANDRE'S DEATH—SIEGE OF YORKTOWN—CLOSE OF THE WAR—TREATY OF PEACE—ARMY DISBANDED—WASHINGTON RESIGNS HIS COMMISSION—CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION—WASHINGTON ELECTED PRESIDENT—HIS DEATH—HIS TOMB.

With the battle of Lexington the war of the Revolution may be said to commence. Henceforth the colonies were united. Georgia no longer hesitated, but sent her delegates to the continental Congress. Resolutions were unanimously passed to provide for the defense of the country. But it was not till after the battle of Bunker Hill that the people favored independence. When the tidings of the battle arrived, Patrick Henry exclaimed: "This was needed to rouse the country to action." On the same day Congress appointed George Washington commander-in-chief of the colonial forces. On the day following it elected its four major-generals. From deference to Massachusetts, for the noble part she had taken, the first of these was Artemas Ward. The second was Charles Lee, the son of an English officer, the third was Philip Schuyler, of New York; the fourth was Israel Putnam, of Connecticut. Thus the country took up arms with only one general officer, who drew to himself the trust and love of the country.

Washington immediately accepted the position and wrote to his brother: "I bid adieu to every kind and domestic ease, and embark on a wide ocean, boundless in its prospect, and in which, perhaps, no safe harbor is to be found."

Trumbull, the governor of Connecticut, wrote to him: "Now be strong and very courageous; may the God of the armies of Israel give you wisdom and fortitude and cover your head in the day of battle and danger." To this Washington replied: "The cause of our common country calls us both to an active and dangerous duty; divine Providence, which wisely orders the affairs of men, will enable us to discharge it with fidelity and success."

Such were the sentiments which animated the colonists in June, 1775. A year of discussion and anxiety followed, during which a remarkable pamphlet was published, entitled, "Common Sense." The writer, who embodied in words the vague longing of the people, mixed with crude notions of his own, was Thomas Paine, the son of an English Quaker, and, at that time, a little under forty years of age. In after years he became a profligate and a reviler of the scriptures, yet, at that time, his writings did much to prepare the American people for self-government.

However, it was not until June, 1776, that the colonists gave up the hope of reconciliation. At that time the Assembly of Virginia issued a famous circular entitled, "The Rights of Man." The leading principles which it taught were, that "government ought to be instituted for the benefit of the people; that freedom of speech and of the press should never be interfered with; and that religion can be directed only by reason and conviction, not by fraud or violence." A month later, July 4th, 1776, the continental Congress issued THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE. And for the support of this declaration they added: "With a firm reliance on the protection of DIVINE PROVIDENCE, we mutually pledge to each other, our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor."