Part 12

_Verse 7_ I understand to mean that when the _sea_ (_Neptune’s back_) is _red_ with the _American stripes_, the naval power of Britain shall decline. A proper exertion in the art of ship-building would soon produce this effect; and whenever Congress is vested with the power of regulating the commerce of America, we may hope to see the full accomplishment of this prediction.

_Verse 8._—This oracle clearly alludes to an epocha not far removed, as we may hope; for when the _thirteen_ United States shall, under the auspices of the present _federal convention_, have strengthened and cemented their union by a proper revisal of the articles of confederation, so as to be really but ONE NATION, Britain will no longer be able to maintain that rank and consequence among the nations of the earth which she had hitherto done.

Since the publication of this explanation, the fulfilment of the two last has become a part and portion of our history. That Neptune’s back is red with the stripes and, we may add, stars, every child knows; and the sickly lion already hides his head, not only beneath the folds of our flag, but plays second fiddle to the cock of France.

The eighth is fully accomplished, and ’76, as well as seven and six, form a pleasing illustration of the prophecy, as they do one of the most interesting incidents in our history. The thirteen States (seven and six) have multiplied nearly thrice since the Declaration of Independence, and are now, as then, but one, and that one a nation.

Walter Scott, speaking of Merlin, or the Savage, as he was called, says, “The particular spot in which he is buried is still shown, and appears, from the following quotation, taken from a description of Tweeddale, 1715, to have partaken of his prophetic qualities:—

‘When Tweed and Pausayl meet At Merlin’s grave, Scotland and England shall one Monarch have.’

For the same day that our King James the Sixth was crowned king of England, the river Tweed, by an extraordinary flood, so far overflowed its banks that it met and joined with the Pausayl at the said grave, which was never before observed to fall out.”

The precise spot pointed out to travellers is situated near Drumelzier, a village upon the Tweed.

_FOURTH OF JULY, 1776._

“The first motion in Congress was to declare this country independent.”

The first assembling of the Revolutionary Congress took place in this city on the 5th of September, 1774. Subsequently the progress of the war continued to ripen the public mind and feelings for a total separation from Great Britain. It was not, however, until the 7th of June, 1776, that any special action was had for that purpose. On that day Richard Henry Lee, a delegate from Virginia, made the following motion, which was seconded by John Adams:—

“To declare these united colonies free and independent States; that they are dissolved from all allegiance to the British crown, and that all political connection between them and the state of Great Britain is and ought to be totally dissolved; that measures should be immediately taken for procuring assistance of foreign powers, and that a confederation be formed to bind the colonies more closely together.”

On the following day the subject was debated, and on the 1st of July a committee consisting of five delegates—Messrs. Jefferson, Adams, Franklin, R. Sherman, and R. R. Lawrence—was selected by ballot to draft a DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.

According to parliamentary usage, Mr. Lee would have been the chairman of this committee; but he was absent in Virginia on account of the illness of a member of his family. Mr. Jefferson, however, having the greatest number of votes, was selected by the other members of the committee to act as chairman, and the draft prepared by him was first read in committee. Some verbal alterations were made by Dr. Franklin and Mr. Adams, and it was not thought necessary to read the drafts prepared by the others. It was stated at the time that the other members of the committee were so pleased with Mr. Jefferson’s draft that they would not submit theirs even for consideration. Perhaps no higher compliment was ever paid to the author of _our_ Declaration of Independence than that which emanated from the gentlemen who composed this committee.

The Declaration, thus prepared and amended, was finally adopted in Congress on the 4th, and was read to a meeting of the citizens of Philadelphia, assembled at the State-House yard, from the steps of the building.

The house in which Mr. Jefferson wrote the Declaration is still standing, at the southwest corner of Seventh and Market Streets. Mr. Jefferson had rooms in it as a lodger when a member of the Congress of ’76. Two days before the adoption of the Declaration and its promulgation, Mr. Adams, in a letter addressed to his wife, makes use of the following language:—

“I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the grand anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp, shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of the continent to the other, from this time forward and forever.

“I am well aware of the toil, and blood, and treasure that it will cost us to maintain this declaration and to support and defend the States: yet through all the gloom I can see the rays of light and glory. I can see that the end is more than worth all the means, and that posterity will triumph, although you and I may rue it,—which I hope we shall not.”

When the bell sounded forth from the steeple of the old State-House, the first peal for liberty gave new life to the citizens: from lip to lip, from street to street, from city, town, and through the country, away, away, the words roll like the waves of the ocean, and reverberating like the roar of the wind as, undulating, it passed through all space. The city of Philadelphia on the afternoon of July 4, 1776, presented to view a city convulsed. Joy united with patriotism, and then the word “Freedom!” became the watchword.

When the news reached New York, the bells were set ringing, and the excited multitude, surging hither and thither, at length gathered around the Bowling Green, and, seizing the leaden equestrian statue of George III. which stood there, broke it into fragments: this was afterwards run into bullets and hurled against his majesty’s troops.[35] When the Declaration arrived in Boston, the people gathered around old Faneuil Hall to hear it read, and, as the last sentence fell from the lips of the reader, a loud shout went up, and soon from every fortified height and every battery the thunder of cannon re-echoed the cry.

_LIBERTY-TREE._

During the Stamp Act excitement there arose a practice of signifying public sentiment in a very effectual way,—though without any responsible agent, unless the inanimate Liberty-Tree may be so considered. This tree was a majestic elm that stood in front of a house opposite the Boylston market, on the edge of the “High Street,” in the town of Boston. On the 14th of August, 1765, an effigy representing Andrew Oliver, a gentleman appointed to distribute the stamps, was found hanging upon this tree, with a paper before it, on which was written, in large characters,—

“Fair Freedom’s glorious cause I’ve meanly quitted, For the sake of pelf; But, ah, the devil has me outwitted, And, instead of stamping others, I’ve hang’d myself.

“P.S.—Whoever takes this down is an enemy to his country.” On the right arm was written “A. O.,” and on the left,

“What greater pleasure can there be Than to see a stamp man hanging on a tree?”

On another part of the tree a boot was suspended,—the emblem of the Earl of Bute, First Lord of the Treasury,—from which the devil, with the Stamp Act in his hand, was looking out. Chief Justice—afterwards Governor—Hutchinson, directed the sheriff to remove this exhibition; but his deputies, from a fear of the popular feeling, declined. In the evening the figures were taken down by the people and carried in procession through the streets. After demolishing the stamp-office, in State Street, they proceeded to Fort Hill, where a bonfire was made of the pageantry in sight of Mr. Oliver’s house. It being intimated to Mr. Oliver that it would conduce to the quiet of the public if he would go to the tree and openly resign his commission, he appeared the next day, and declared, in the presence of a large concourse of people, that he would not continue in office. It was thenceforward called the Liberty-Tree, and the following inscription placed upon it:—“This tree was planted in the year 1614, and pruned by the order of the Sons of Liberty, February 14, 1766.” On future occasions there was seldom any excitement on political subjects without some evidence of it appearing on this tree. Whenever obnoxious offices were to be resigned or agreements for patriotic purposes entered into, the parties were notified to appear at the tree, “where they always found pens and paper, and a numerous crowd of witnesses, though the genius of the tree was invisible. When the British army took possession of Boston, in 1774, Liberty-Tree fell a victim to their vengeance, or to that of the persons to whom its shade had been disagreeable.” Liberty-trees were consecrated in Charlestown, Lexington, and Roxbury, Mass., and also in Charleston, S.C., Newport and Providence, R.I.—_Tudor’s Life of Otis_.

LIBERTY-TREE.

1765.

This beautiful ballad was written by Thomas Paine, the author of the “Age of Reason,” and published in the Pennsylvania Magazine of July, 1775, while he was editor of that periodical. He composed and published many songs and elegies during his connection with the magazine. Among them, “The Death of Wolfe on the Plains of Abraham” is uncommonly pathetic and graceful.

LIBERTY-TREE.

In a chariot of light from the regions of day The Goddess of Liberty came; Ten thousand celestials directed the way, And hither conducted the dame. A fair budding branch from the gardens above, Where millions with millions agree, She brought in her hand as a pledge of her love, And the plant she named Liberty-Tree.

The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground; Like a native it flourished and bore; The fame of its fruit drew the nations around, To seek out this peaceable shore. Unmindful of names or distinctions they came, For freemen like brothers agree; With one spirit endued, they one friendship pursued, And their temple was Liberty-Tree.

Beneath this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old, Their bread in contentment they ate, Unvex’d with the troubles of silver and gold, The cares of the grand and the great. With timber and tar they Old England supplied, And supported her power on the sea; Her battles they fought, without getting a groat, For the honor of Liberty-Tree.

But hear, O ye swains,—’tis a tale most profane,— How all the tyrannical powers, Kings, Commons, and Lords, are uniting amain To cut down this guardian of ours; From the east to the west blow the trumpet to arms, Through the land let the sound of it flee, Let the far and the near all unite with a cheer In defence of our Liberty-Tree.

_YANKEE DOODLE:—THE AIR AND WORDS._

There are so many versions of the origin of this popular and now national air, as well as the words, that we offer the following to our readers without note or comment.

In Burgh’s Anecdotes of Music, vol. iii. p. 405, after speaking of Dr. Arne and John Frederick Lampe, the author proceeds:—“Besides Lampe and Arne, there were at this time [1731] other candidates for musical fame of the same description. Among these were Mr. John Christian Smith, who set two English operas for Lincoln’s Inn Fields,—Teraminta and Ulysses,—and Dr. Tresh, author of the oratorio of Judith.”

About the year 1797, after having become a tolerable proficient on the German flute, I took it into my head to learn the bassoon, and for this purpose procured an instrument and book of instructions from the late Mr. Joseph Carr, who had then recently opened a music-store in Baltimore City, being the first regular establishment of the kind in this country. In this book there was an “Air from Ulysses,” which was the identical air now called Yankee Doodle, with the exception of a few notes which time and fancy may have added.

Here is another version:—

In the simultaneous attacks that were made upon the French posts in America in 1755, that against Fort Du Quesne (the present site of Pittsburg) was conducted by General Braddock, and those against Niagara and Frontenac by Governor Shirley, of Massachusetts, and General Johnston, of New York. The following is an extract from Judge Martin’s History of North Carolina, giving an account of those expeditions:—

“The army of the latter (Shirley and Johnston), during the summer, lay on the eastern bank of the Hudson, a little south of the city of Albany. In the early part of June the troops of the Eastern provinces began to pour in, company after company; and such a motley assemblage of men never before thronged together on such an occasion, unless an example may be found in the ragged regiment of Sir John Falstaff. It would have relaxed the gravity of an anchorite to have seen the descendants of the Puritans, marching through the streets of that ancient city (Albany), take their situations on the left of the British army,—some with long coats, and others with no coats at all, with colors as various as the rainbow,—some with their hair cropped like the army of Cromwell, and others with wigs, the locks of which floated with grace around their shoulders. Their march, their accoutrements, and the whole arrangement of the troops, furnished matter of amusement to the rest of the British army. The music played the airs of two centuries ago; and the _tout ensemble_, upon the whole, exhibited a sight to the wondering strangers, to which they had been unaccustomed. Among the club of wits that belonged to the British army there was a Doctor Shackburg, attached to the staff, who combined with the science of surgeon the skill and talents of a musician. To please the new-comers, he composed a tune, and with much gravity recommended it to the officers as one of the most celebrated airs of martial music. The joke took, to the no small amusement of the British. Brother Jonathan exclaimed it was _nation fine_, and in a few days nothing was heard in the provincial camp but the air of Yankee Doodle. Little did the author in his composition then suppose that an air made for the purpose of levity and ridicule should ever be marked for such high destinies. In twenty years from that time the national march inspired the heroes of Bunker Hill, and in less than thirty years Lord Cornwallis and his army marched into the American lines to the tune of Yankee Doodle.”

“Watson, in his “Occurrences of the War of Independence,” says,—

“This tune, so celebrated as a national air of the Revolution, has an origin almost unknown to the mass of the people of the present day. An aged and respectable lady, born in New England, told me she remembered it well, long before the Revolution, under another name. It was then universally called ‘Lydia Fisher,’ and was a favorite New England jig. It was then the practice with it, as with Yankee Doodle now, to sing it with various impromptu verses,—such as

‘Lydia Locket lost her pocket, Lydia Fisher found it; Not a bit of money in it, Only binding round it.’

“The British, preceding the war, when disposed to ridicule the simplicity of the Yankee manners and hilarity, were accustomed to sing airs or songs set to words invented for the passing occasion, having for their object to satirize and sneer at the New Englanders. This, as I believe, they called Yankee Doodle, by way of reproach, and as a slur upon their favorite ‘Lydia Fisher.’ It is remembered that the English officers then among us, acting under civil and military appointments, often felt lordly over us as colonists, and by countenancing such slurs they sometimes expressed their superciliousness. When the battles of Concord and Lexington began the war, the English, when advancing in triumph, played along the road, ‘God save the King;’ but when the Americans had made the retreat so disastrous to the invaders, these then struck up the scouted _Yankee Doodle_,—as if to say, ‘See what we simple Jonathans can do!’ From that time the term of intended derision was assumed throughout all the American colonies, as the national air of the Sons of Liberty; even as the Methodists—once reproachfully so called—assumed it as their acceptable appellation. Even the name of ‘Sons of Liberty,’ which was so popular at the outset, was a name adopted from the appellation given us in Parliament by Colonel Barré in his speech! Judge Martin, in his History of North Carolina, has lately given another reason for the origin of ‘Yankee Doodle,’ saying it was first formed at Albany, in 1755, by a British officer, then there, indulging his pleasantry on the homely array of the motley Americans then assembling to join the expedition of General Johnston and Governor Shirley. To ascertain the truth in the premises, both his and my accounts were published in the gazettes, to elicit, if possible, further information, and the additional facts ascertained seem to corroborate the foregoing idea. The tune and quaint words, says a writer in the ‘Columbian Gazette,’ at Washington, were known as early as the time of Cromwell, and were so applied to him then, in a song called ‘Nankee Doodle,’ as ascertained from the collection he had seen of a gentleman at Cheltenham, in England, called ‘Musical Antiquities of England,’ to wit:—

“‘Nankee Doodle came to town Upon a little pony, With a feather in his hat, Upon a macaroni,’ &c.

“The term feather, &c. alluded to Cromwell’s going into Oxford on a small horse, with his single plume fastened in a sort of knot called a ‘macaroni.’ The idea that such an early origin may have existed seems strengthened by the fact communicated by an aged gentleman of Massachusetts, who well remembered that, about the time the strife was engendering at Boston, they sometimes conveyed muskets to the country concealed in their loads of manure, &c. Then came abroad verses, as if set forth from their military masters, saying,—

“‘Yankee Doodle came to town For to buy a firelock: We will tar and feather him, And so we will John Hancock.’

“The similarity of the first lines of the above two examples, and the term ‘feather’ in the third line, seem to mark in the latter some knowledge of the former precedent. As, however, other writers have confirmed their early knowledge of ‘Lydia Locket,’ such as,

“‘Lydy Locket lost her pocket In a rainy shower,’ &c.,

we seem led to the choice of reconciling them severally with each other. We conclude, therefore, that the Cavaliers, when they originally composed ‘Nankee Doodle,’ may have set it to the jig-tune of ‘Lydia Fisher,’ to make it the more offensive to the Puritans. In this view it was even possible for the British officer at Albany, in 1755, as a man skilled in music, to have before heard of the old ‘Nankee Doodle,’ and to have renewed it on that occasion. That the air was uniformly deemed a good retort on British royalists, we must be confirmed in from the fact that it was played by us at the battle of Lexington when repelling the foe, again at the surrender of Burgoyne, and finally at Yorktown surrender, when Lafayette, who ordered the tune, meant it as a retort on an intended affront.”

The following is the first verse in the original _American_ Yankee Doodle song:—

“Yankee Doodle, keep it up, Do it neat and handy: The boy to flog the British troops Is Yankee Doodle Dandy.”

_HAIL COLUMBIA._

The following is Judge Hopkinson’s own account of the origin of “Hail Columbia:”—

“This song was written in the summer of 1798, when a war with France was thought to be inevitable, Congress being then in session in Philadelphia, deliberating upon that important subject, and acts of hostility having actually occurred. About that time a young man by the name of Fox, attached to the Chestnut Street Theatre, was getting up some attraction for his benefit. I had known him when at school. On this acquaintance he called on me on Saturday afternoon,—his benefit being announced for the following Monday. He said there were no boxes taken, and his prospect was that he should suffer a loss instead of receiving a benefit from his performance, but that if he could get a patriotic song adapted to the tune of the ‘President’s March’ (then the popular air) he did not doubt of a full house; that the poets of the theatrical corps had been trying to accomplish it, but were satisfied that no words could be composed to suit the music of the march. I told him I would try for him. He came the next afternoon, and the song, such as it is, was ready for him. It was announced on Monday morning, and the theatre was crowded to excess, and so continued, night after night, for the rest of the season,—the song being encored and repeated many times each night, the audience joining in the chorus. It was also sung at night in the streets by large assemblies of citizens, including members of Congress. The enthusiasm was general, and the song was heard, I may say, in every part of the United States.”

The President’s March was composed by Professor Pfyle, and was played at Trenton Bridge when Washington passed over on his way to New York to his inauguration. An old writer, speaking upon this subject, says, “I have also reason to believe that the Washington’s March generally known by that title—I mean the one in the key of G major—was composed by the Hon. Francis Hopkinson, Senior, having seen it in a manuscript book of his, in his own handwriting, among other of his known compositions.”

_THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER._

Was written by Francis S. Key, while on board one of the vessels composing the British fleet. He was an agent for the exchange of prisoners, and witnessed in the distance the bombardment of Fort McHenry. The tune was originally set to the song “To Anacreon in Heaven,” by Dr. Arnold.

_THE PRESENT AMERICAN FLAG._