The Hand of Providence

"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 spark
Struck out by the steed that flies fearless and fleet;
That was all! And yet thro' the darkness and gloom
The fate of a nation was riding that night,
And the spark struck out by the steed in his flight
Kindled the land into flame with its heat.
It was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
It was one by the village clock
When he rode into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock swim
In the moonlight as he passed,
And the meeting-house windows blank and bare
Gaze at him with a spectral glare
As if they already stood aghast,
At the bloody work they would look upon.
You know the rest. In the books you have read
How 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 again
Under 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 alarm
To 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 past
Through human history to the last
The good shall pray and by faith shall hear
A delivering foot-fall as of that steed
And 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."

Thus the youthful nation, as it took its place among the powers of the world, proclaimed its faith in the truth and reality and unchangeableness of freedom, virtue and right. The heart of Jefferson, in writing the declaration, and of Congress in adopting it, beat for all humanity. The assertion of right was made for all nations and for all coming generations. It was addressed to all mankind and was destined to make the circuit of the world. As it passed by the despotic countries of Europe, and the astonished people read with mingled surprise and joy, that "all men are created equal," and have an equal right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, they started as from the sleep of years; like those, who have been exiles from their native land from childhood, start up when they suddenly hear the dimly remembered accents of their mother tongue.

When the news of the declaration of independence reached England the spirit of the nobility was vehement against the Americans. Had the decision of the conflict hung on the strength of armies alone, the colonists could not have gained the victory; but it involved the interests of Europe's toiling millions, and brought into action ideas which had hitherto no opportunity for expression, and forces which until then had no sphere of action. The principles that gave life to the new institutions pervaded history like a prophecy, and seemed like the realizing of the golden age of which the poets dreamed. The most profound thinkers and most intense lovers of the race saw in America's future an opportunity for man's higher development; the spiritual-minded saw in the history and circumstances of America the wonder-working and controlling hand of Providence.

The history of the military campaigns of 1776 and 1777, are too well known to need repetition here. The Americans were beaten in every attack made upon them, from the battle of Bunker Hill, June 17, 1775, to the battle of Fort Mifflin, October 22, 1777. At Cambridge they had no powder, yet their courage and perseverance held out. They lost Long Island, New York, Fort Washington and more than three thousand men. They fled through New Jersey followed by the victorious English. The American army kept on dwindling and shrinking till it comprised scarcely seven thousand men, ill armed, unpaid, ill clad and unfed.

During those two years and four months the only battles, that were precursors of success and gave renewed hope and vigor to the patriot cause, were the brilliant successes at Trenton and Princeton.

It was the night before Christmas. The British lay waiting fur the Delaware river to freeze over, that they might again pursue Washington and his little band. Meanwhile the Americans collected all the boats up and down the river for seventy miles. After dark they commenced to cross the river. The night was dark and tempestuous, and the weather so intensely cold that two of the soldiers were frozen to death. Yet amidst the floating ice and gusts of wind they fearlessly rowed across the river. At day-break Christmas morning they attacked the astonished royalists. Three times as many prisoners were taken as the number of the American troops engaged. The Americans then recrossed the river taking the prisoners with them. A week later, Washington made another night march and surprised the British at Princeton, capturing prisoners and making good his escape.

These exploits, inconsiderable as they may seem, greatly raised the spirits of the American people. When triumphs like these were possible, under circumstances so discouraging, there was no need to despair.

Though the British advanced on Philadelphia and took possession of it, still there was a feeling of insecurity in the British army. They knew not what moment they might be attacked.

Notwithstanding these successes many of the American officers left the army in disgust. The nation could not pay her soldiers and made no promise of future indemnity. The British had full possession of New York, and were rioting and feasting at Philadelphia. Meanwhile Washington with his little army had retreated to a secluded place among the Pennsylvania hills, which was known by the name of Valley Forge.

As the men moved toward the spot selected for their winter resting-place, they had no clothes to cover their nakedness, blankets to lie on, nor tents to sleep under. For the want of shoes, their marches through frost and snow might be traced by the blood from their feet, and they were almost as often without provisions as with them.

An extract from one of Washington's letters to Congress may not be out of place: "We have this day no less than two thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight men unfit for duty, because they are barefoot or otherwise naked. Our whole strength in continental troops amounts to no more than eight thousand two hundred men. Since the fourth instant, owing to hardships and exposures, our numbers have decreased nearly two thousand men. Numbers are obliged to sit all night by the fires; or sleep on a cold, bleak hill, under frost and snow, without clothes or blankets."

All this time the British soldiers in Philadelphia were well provided for; the officers were living in luxury at the expense of the inhabitants. The days were spent in pastime, the nights in entertainments.

It was at this period of the war—the darkest through which the nation ever passed—that the following incident occurred. It was observed that each day after Washington had visited the hospital tents and administered to the sick whatever necessities or comforts he had in his power to bestow, he retired into the forest at some distance from the camp. Curiosity prompted an individual, named Isaac Pitts, to follow him. There, at the foot of a large tree, with head uncovered, kneeling in the snow, was seen the commander-in-chief of the American armies, engaged in prayer before God. With an anxious and burdened mind—a mind conscious of its need of divine support and consolation—Washington went and rolled those mighty burdens—too heavy for him to bear unaided—upon the arm of Omnipotence. Isaac Pitts related what he had seen and heard, and on a subsequent day at least three persons beheld the venerated "father of his country," at prayer before his God.

It is recorded in Matthew vi., 6: "But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father, which seeth in secret shall reward thee openly." May we not believe that the high moral courage which dared greater perils than the whistling of bullets; that will of mighty strength which having chosen the right, though unpopular, never deviated from it; that calm self-command, which bore up under the greatest reverses and still preserved its equanimity amidst the taunts of enemies and censure of friends—may we not believe that these things were among the open rewards of secret prayer?