Chapter II: Part 2

In 1841, when his father became Secretary of State under President Harrison, Fletcher Webster relinquished his professional prospects in the West, and removed to Washington, where he acted as his father's assistant. From his father's verbal suggestions, he prepared diplomatic papers of the first importance; and no man could perform that delicate service more satisfactorily to his father than he. It is understood that the famous Hulseman Letter, which, more than anything else, distinguished Daniel Webster's second term of service in the department of State, was thus prepared.

Whether he or some one else prepared that extraordinary letter which was to introduce Caleb Cushing to the Emperor of China, which assumed that the Chinese were a nation of children, and which Chinese scholars treated as conclusive evidence that the Americans had not emerged from barbarism,--we know not. But if he did, he doubtless laughed at it afterward as a childish performance.

On the seventeenth of June, 1843, Fletcher Webster witnessed the laying of the capstone of the monument on Bunker Hill, and listened, with affectionate interest, to the oration which was then delivered by his father,--an oration which, if inferior to that delivered at the laying of the cornerstone, was nevertheless every way worthy of the man and the occasion,--simple, massive, and splendid. A few weeks later, he sailed from Boston for China, and watched, as he tells us, "while light and eyesight lasted, till the summit of that monument faded, at last, from view." Many a departing, many a returning, sailor and traveler, has given his "last, long, lingering look" to that towering obelisk, but none with deeper feeling than Fletcher Webster.

As secretary to Commissioner Cushing, he assisted in negotiating the first treaty between the United States and China, which involved an absence of eighteen months from the United States. Neither the outward nor the homeward voyage was made in company with Mr. Cushing. Mr. Webster left Boston, August 8, 1843, in the brig Antelope, built by Captain R.B. Forbes, touched at Bombay, November 12, 1843, and arrived at Canton, February 4, 1844. He returned in the ship Paul Jones, in January, 1845, the voyage from Canton to New York being made in one hundred and eleven days. It deserves to be stated, as illustrating the admiration with which the merchant princes of Boston regarded Daniel Webster, that the house of Russell and Company, which owned both the Antelope and the Paul Jones, refused to accept any passage-money from his son, who was entertained, not as a passenger, but as an honored guest.

By his voyage to China and by his experiences there, Mr. Webster, acquired, not only rich stores of curious information and a great enlargement of his intellectual horizon, but--what is particularly to be noted--a better appreciation of the splendid destiny of his native land. Unlike many foolish Americans, who waste their time in foreign capitals, he never harbored the slightest regret that he had not been born something other than an American; he never desired to be anything but a free citizen of the great republic of the West.

He prepared a lecture on China, which he delivered in many of the cities and large towns. Mr. Cushing had already entered the lecture field with a discourse on China, and some thought Mr. Webster presumptuous in thus inviting comparison between his own discourse and Mr. Cushing's. But competent critics, who heard both these efforts, expressed a preference for that of Mr. Webster. Vast as was Mr. Cushing's learning, his oratorical style was never one of the best; while Fletcher Webster's style, for clearness, simplicity, strength, and majesty, was little inferior to that of his illustrious father. He afterward expanded this lecture to the dimensions of a book, but never published it; and, in 1878, this manuscript, and all others left by him, perished by the fire which destroyed the Webster House at Marshfield. One of the few scraps which have survived this fire is a Latin epitaph which he wrote for his father's horse, Steamboat,--a horse of great speed and endurance,--and which seldom lay down at night unless he had been overdriven. In English, it ran thus: "Stop, traveler, for a greater traveler than thou stops here."

On the Fourth of July, 1845, Charles Sumner delivered, before the municipal authorities of Boston, an oration on Peace, which provoked much hostile criticism; and on the next succeeding anniversary of American Independence, Fletcher Webster delivered an oration on War, which was designed to show that there are cases "where war, with all its woes, must be endured."

It is probably the only elaborate discourse of his, which has been preserved entire. It contains many quotable passages; but we must content ourselves with the following, which are quite in his father's style:--

"We meet to brighten the memories of a glorious past, to strengthen ourselves in our onward progress, to remember great enterprises, to look forward to a great career."

"We celebrate no single triumph, but the result of a long series of victories; we celebrate the memory of no mere successful battle, but the great triumph of a people; the victory of liberty over oppression, won by suffering and struggle and death; the fruit of high sentiment, of resolute patriotism, of consummate wisdom, of unshaken faith and trust in God,--a victory and a triumph not for us only, but for all the oppressed, everywhere, and for every age to come, ... a victory whose future results to us and to others no imagination can foresee, and which are yet but commencing to unfold themselves."

"And does any one believe that these results [to wit, the winning of American independence, and the building of the American nation] could have been attained in any other method than by arms and successful physical resistance."

In 1847, he held the only political office to which he was ever elected by popular suffrage,--that of representative in the Legislature. In 1850, he was appointed surveyor of the port of Boston by President Taylor, and he was reappointed to the same office by Presidents Pierce and Buchanan successively. There were many who would have been glad to see him in a larger sphere, but "the mark which he made upon his times," as Mr. Hillard observes, was less than his friends had anticipated. Occasionally he appeared as an orator in political campaigns, notably in 1856, at Exeter, in his native State, where he spoke with laudable pride of having "sat at the feet of a great statesman now no more."

The son of Martin Van Buren and the son of Levi Woodbury united their voices on that occasion with the voice of the son of Webster. A striking remark then made by him is well remembered. Referring to the speech of Senator Sumner, which excited the assault of Mr. Brooks, Mr. Webster said, "If I had been going to make such a speech, I should have worn an iron pot upon my head."

In 1857, he published two volumes of the Private Correspondence of Daniel Webster. In editing the papers of such a man, it is not difficult to make a "spicy" book. Witness McVey Napier's Edinburgh Review correspondence and Mr. Fronde's Carlyle correspondence. They have spared no one's feelings. They have paraded hasty expressions of transient spleen, which the authors would blush to read, except, perhaps, at the moment of writing. Mr. Webster has shown us a more excellent way, though it may be less profitable. "With charity for all, with malice for none," he carefully excised from his father's correspondence every passage tending to rekindle the fire of any former personal controversy in which his father had engaged. In this, perhaps, he followed the behests of his father, who evinced, as he approached the tomb, an earnest desire for reconciliation with all with whom he had had differences, illustrating the Scottish proverb, "The evening brings all home."

When the disruption of the Union came to be attempted, none of us who knew Fletcher Webster doubted for a moment what position he would take. The same "passionate and exultant nationality," which had nerved him to bear the loss of friends at the North, and to forego the chance of a public career, rather than countenance any measure calculated to excite ill-will at the South, now prompted him to advocate military coercion for the preservation of the Union. Notwithstanding President Lincoln had just deprived him of the office upon which he depended for the maintenance of his family, he did not hesitate to tender to the administration his personal support in the field.

In the oration already quoted, he had said: "There are certain ultimate rights which must be maintained; and when force is brought to overthrow them, it must be resisted by force." Among the rights which must thus be maintained, in his view, was the right of the United States to maintain, forever, the union of these States. The policy of coercion, bitterly as he bewailed its necessity, was not new to him. His father had advocated the Force Bill almost thirty years before. The time had come, when, in the words of Jefferson (words spoken when only the Articles of Confederation held the States in union): "Some of the States must see the rod; perhaps some of them must feel it." Accordingly, on the twentieth of April, 1861, while the bombardment of Fort Sumter and the attack on the Sixth Regiment were firing the Northern heart, Fletcher Webster called that memorable Sunday-morning meeting in State Street, which resulted in the organization of the Twelfth Regiment of Massachusetts Infantry. Referring to that occasion, George S, Hillard said it recalled to the minds of those present, Colonel Webster's father, who had then been but nine years in the grave. "To the mind's eye, that majestic form and grand countenance seemed standing by the side of his son; and in the mind's ear, they heard again the deep music of that voice which had so often charmed and instructed them."

Colonel Webster said: "He whose name I bear had the good fortune to defend the Union and the Constitution in the forum. That I cannot do, but I am ready to defend them in the field." Like other national men, he refused to listen to the "sixty-day" prattle by which others were deceived. He saw that by no "summer excursion to Moscow" could the Southern Confederacy be suppressed; that immense forces would be marshalled in aid of that Confederacy; and that the war for the Union, like the war for Independence, would be won only by 'suffering, and struggle, and death.

Ten years earlier, it seemed to Rufus Choate as if the hoarded-up resentments and revenges of a thousand years were about to unsheath the sword for a conflict, "in which the blood should flow, as in the Apocalyptic vision, to the bridles of the horses; in which a whole age of men should pass away; in which the great bell of time should sound out another hour; in which society itself should be tried by fire and steel, whether it were of Nature and of Nature's God, or not."

Such a conflict was indeed impending, and Fletcher Webster appreciated its extreme gravity, when, from the balcony of the Old State House, on that Sunday morning, he made his stirring appeal: "Let us show the world that the patriotism of '61 is not less than that of '76; that the noble impulses of those patriot hearts have descended to us."

On the eighteenth of July, 1861, Edward Everett presented to Colonel Webster a splendid regimental flag, the gift of the ladies of Boston to the Twelfth Regiment.[1] It need not be said that the presentation speech of Mr. Everett, and the reception speech of Colonel Webster, were of the first order. But not even the words of a Webster or an Everett could adequately express the profound emotion of the vast concourse of people then assembled. For it was one of those occasions when, as the elder Webster said, "Words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and all elaborate oratory contemptible."

History will transmit the fact that on that day the simple, homely, stirring, and inspiring melody of Old John Brown was heard for the first time by the people of Boston. It was a surprising and a gladsome spectacle--a regiment bearing Daniel Webster's talismanic name, commanded by his only surviving son, carrying a banner prepared by the fairest daughters of Massachusetts, carrying also the benediction of Edward Everett, and of "the solid men of Boston," and marching to the tune of Old John Brown! Did the weird prophet-orator who spoke of "carrying the flag and keeping step to the music of the Union" ever dream of such a strange combination?

On the seventeenth of June, 1861, by invitation of Governor Andrew, Colonel Webster spoke on Bunker Hill: "From this spot I take my departure, like the mariner commencing his voyage, and wherever my eyes close, they will be turned hitherward towards this North; and, in whatever event, grateful will be the reflection, that this monument still stands--still, still is glided by the earliest beams of the rising sun, and that still departing day lingers and plays upon its summit."

After referring to the two former occasions when he had visited that historic shaft, when his father had spoken there, he added, "I now stand again at its base, and renew once more, on this national altar, vows, not for the first time made, of devotion to my country, its Constitution and Union."

With these words upon his lips, with these sentiments in his heart, and in the hearts of the thousand brave men of his command, Colonel Webster went forth, the dauntless champion and willing martyr of the Union. Except that the death of a beloved daughter brought him back for a few days to his family in the following summer, the people of Massachusetts saw his living face no more.

On the thirtieth of August, 1862, the second day of the second battle of Bull Run, late in the afternoon, while gallantly directing the movements of his regiment, and giving his orders in those clear, firm, ringing tones, which, in the tumult of battle, fall so gratefully on the soldier's ear, Colonel Webster was shot through the body; and the Federal forces being closely pressed at the time, he was left to die on the field in Confederate hands. As the event became known through the country, thousands of generous hearts, in the South as well as in the North, recalled the peroration of his father's reply to Hayne, and bitterly regretted that, when his eyes were turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, it had been his unhappy lot to "see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union, on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent, on a land rent with internal feuds, and drenched [as then it was] with fraternal blood."

In the time-honored song of Roland, we are told, "Count Roland lay under a pine-tree dying, and many things came to his remembrance." As it was with Count Roland in Spain, so it was with Colonel Webster in Virginia. In the multitude of memories which rushed upon him as he lay dying on that ill-starred battle-field, we may be sure that Boston, Bunker Hill, and the home and grave of Marshfield, were not forgotten.

The body of Colonel Webster was willingly given up by the Confederates, and after lying in state in Faneuil Hall, and adding another to the immortal recollections which ennoble "the cradle of liberty," it was buried near his father's grave by the sea.

The Grand Army Post at Brockton, containing survivors of the Webster Regiment, has adopted Colonel Webster's name; and on each Memorial Day, members of this Post make a pilgrimage to Marshfield to decorate his grave. His life is remarkable for its apparent possibilities rather than for its actual achievements,--for the capabilities which were recognized in him, rather than for what he accomplished, either in public or professional life. His military career was cut short by a Confederate bullet before opportunity demonstrated that capacity for high command, which his superior officers, as well as his soldiers, believed him to possess. The instincts of the soldier are often as trustworthy as the judgment of the commander. All his soldiers loved him,--

--"honored him, followed him,
Dwelt in his mild and magnificent eye,
Heard his great language, caught his clear accents,
Made him their pattern to do and to die."

While the regret still lingers, that he was not permitted to witness, and to contribute further effort to secure, the triumph, which he predicted, of the cause for which he died--that regret is mitigated by the reflection, that he could never have died more honorably than in a war which could only have been avoided by the sacrifice of the Constitution and the Union.

[Footnote 1: This banner now hangs in the Doric Hall at the State House, where its mute eloquence has often started tears, and "thoughts too deep for tears," in many a casual visitor.]

* * * * *

EARLY HARVARD.

By the Rev. Josiah Lafayette Seward, A.M.

The valuable histories of Harvard University, by Quincy, Peirce, and Eliot, and the wonderfully full and accurate sketches of the early graduates, by John Langdon Sibley, the venerable librarian emeritus, are treasuries of interesting information in regard to the early customs and the first presidents and pupils of that institution. From these various works we have gathered the following items of interest, which we will give, without stopping at every step to indicate the authorities. Mr. Sibley has preserved the ancient spelling, which is so quaint, that we shall attempt to reproduce it.

October 28, 1636, the General Court of Massachusetts "agreed to give 400 (pounds) toward a schoale or colledge, whearof 200 (pounds) to be paid the next yeare, & 200 when the worke is finished, & the next Court to appoint wheare & what building." On November 15, 1637, the "Colledg is ordered to be at Newtowne." On November 20, 1637, occurs the following record of the General Court: "The Governor Mr. Winthrope, the Deputy Mr. Dudley, the Treasurer Mr. Bellingham, Mr. Humfrey, Mr. Herlakenden, Mr. Staughton, Mr. Cotton, Mr. Wilson, Mr. Damport, Mr. Wells, Mr. Sheopard, & Mr. Peters, these, or the greater part of them, whereof Mr. Winthrope, Mr. Dudley, or Mr. Bellingham, to bee alway one, to take order for a colledge at Newtowne."

May 2, 1638, the General Court changed the name of Newtowne to Cambridge, and, on March 13, 1639, "It is ordered that the Colledge agreed upon formerly to be built at Cambridge shall bee called Harvard Colledge." It appears that before this time there had been a school; but the name of college was not assumed until the above date. The teacher of this school was Mr. Nathaniel Eaton, who has left an unenviable reputation, and made an inauspicious beginning of that institution which was to attain to such distinction. He finally got into serious trouble, in consequence of his brutal conduct and for one act in particular, which led to his leaving the school and town. Governor Winthrop, in his History of New England has given a graphic description of the event, which Mr. Sibley has also reproduced, in a note, and which will interest more readers than would ever have the privilege of reading either work. I will therefore give the extract in full. Speaking of Eaton and the pupil whom he punished, Winthrop says: "The occasion was this: He was a schoolmaster and had many scholars, the sons of gentlemen and others of best note in the country, and had entertained one Nathaniel Briscoe, a gentleman born, to be his usher, and to do some other things for him, which might not be unfit for a scholar. He had not been with him above three days but he fell out with him for a very small occasion, and, with reproachful terms, discharged him, and turned him out of his doors; but, it being then about eight of the clock after the Sabbath, he told him he should stay till next morning, and, some words growing between them, he struck him and pulled him into his house. Briscoe defended himself and closed with him, and, being parted, he came in and went up to his chamber to lodge there. Mr. Eaton sent for the constable, who advised him first to admonish him, etc., and if he could not, by the power of a master, reform him, then he should complain to the magistrate. But he caused his man to fetch him a cudgel, which was a walnut tree plant, big enough to have killed a horse, and a yard in length, and, taking his two men with him, he went up to Briscoe, and caused his men to hold him till he had given him two hundred stripes about the head and shoulders, etc., and so kept him under blows (with some two or three short intermissions) about the space of two hours, about which time Mr. Shepherd (the clergyman) and some others of the town came in at the outcry, and so he gave over. In this distress Briscoe gate out his knife and struck at the man that held him, but hurt him not. He also fell to prayer, (supposing he should have been murdered), and then Mr. Eaton beat him for taking the name of God in Vain."

He was charged in open court with these cruelties to Briscoe, and it was there proved that he had been unusually cruel on other occasions, often punishing pupils with from twenty to thirty stripes, and never leaving them until they had confessed what he required. He was also charged with furnishing a scant diet to his pupil boarders, keeping them on porridge and pudding, though their parents were paying for better fare. He appears to have admitted the evil, butt threw the blame upon his wife. The court found him guilty. At first he denied his guilt. He was put in care of a marshal for safe keeping, and, on the following day, the court was informed that he had repented in tears. In the open court "he made a very solid, wise, eloquent, and serious (seeming) confession." The court was so much moved and pleased by this act of contrition that they only censured him and fined him twenty pounds and ordered the same amount to be paid to Briscoe. The church intended to "deal with him," but he fled to the Piscataqua settlements. He was apprehended, and promised to return to Cambridge, but finally escaped and fled, on a boat, to Virginia.

The college was named for the Reverend John Harvard, who came to this country from England in 1637, settled In Charlestown, and died the following year. He left a legacy, including his library, to the new institution of learning, which was a princely benefaction for the time. As a suitable recognition for this first large donation, the institution was called Harvard College. The exact place of Mr. Harvard's burial is unknown. It was somewhere "about the foot of Town Hill." It was in the old burial-ground near the old prison in Charlestown, in all probability, and the monument to his memory, if not over his grave, is likely very near it. The inscriptions on this monument explain the time and cause of its erection. On the eastern side of the shaft, looking toward the land of his birth and education, we read:--

"On the twenty-sixth day of September, A.D. 1828, this Stone was erected by Graduates of the University of Cambridge in honor of its founder, who died at Charlestown, on the twenty-sixth day of September, A.D. 1638."

This is in his mother-tongue. On the side looking toward the seat of learning which bears his name is the following inscription, in classic Latin:

"In piam et perpetuam memoriam Johannis Harvardii, annis fere ducentis post obitum ejus peractis, Academiae quae est Cantabrigiae Nov-Anglorum alumni, ne diutius vir de literis nostris optime meritus sine monumento quanivis humili jaceret, hunc lapidem ponendum curaverunt." The following is a literal translation:--

"In pious and perpetual remembrance of John Harvard, nearly two hundred years after his death, the alumni of the University at Cambridge, in New England, have erected this stone, that one who deserves the highest honors from our literary men may be no longer without a monument, however humble."

Edward Everett delivered the address at the dedication of the monument. The closing passage of his oration is as follows:--

"While the College which he founded shall continue to the latest posterity, a monument not unworthy of the most honored name, we trust that this plain memorial also will endure; and, while it guides the dutiful votary to the spot where his ashes are deposited, will teach to those who survey it the supremacy of intellectual and 'moral desert, and encourage them, too, by a like munificence, to aspire to a name as bright as that which stands engraven on its shaft,--

'Clarum et venerabile nomen
Gentibus, et multum nostrae quod proderat urbi.'"

The citizens of New England entered most heartily into the idea of establishing this college and contributed whatever they could; utensils from their homes, stock from their farms, their goods, merchandise, anything, in fine, which they had to give, so anxious were they to educate their youth, and especially to provide for an educated ministry. Peirce, in his History of the college, says:--

"When we read of a number of sheep bequeathed by one man, of a quantity of cotton cloth worth nine shillings presented by another, of a pewter flagon worth ten shillings by a third, of a fruit-dish, a sugar-spoon, a silver-tipped jug, one great salt, and one small trencher salt, by others; and of presents or legacies, amounting severally to five shillings, one pound, two pounds, &c., all faithfully recorded with the names of the donors, we are at first tempted to smile; but a little reflection will soon change this, disposition into a feeling of respect and even of admiration."

"How just," says President Quincy, "is the remark of this historian! How forcible and full of noble example is the picture exhibited by these records? The poor emigrant, struggling for subsistence, almost houseless, in a manner defenceless, is seen selecting from the few remnants of his former prosperity, plucked by him out of the flames of persecution, and rescued from the perils of the Atlantic, the valued pride of his table, or the precious delight of his domestic hearth;--'his heart stirred and his spirit willing' to give according to his means, toward establishing for learning a resting-place, and for science a fixed habitation, on the borders of the wilderness!"

Mr. Sibley gives an extract from New England's First Fruits, a work printed in London, not long after the first class was graduated. It gives us the feelings of the emigrants about their new institution. It says:--

"After God had carried us safe to New England, and wee had builded our houses, provided necessaries for our liveli-hood, rear'd convenient places for God's worship, and settled the Civil Government; One of the next things we longed for, and looked after, was to advance LEARNING and to perpetuate it to Posterity; dreading to leave an illiterate ministry to the Churches, when our present Ministers shall lie in the dust. And as wee were thinking and consulting how to effect this great Work, it pleased God to stir up the heart of one Mr. HARVARD (a godly Gentleman, and a lover of learning, there living amongst us) to give the one halfe of his Estate (it being in all about 1700 pounds) toward the erecting of a Colledge, and all his Library." The edifice is described as "faire and comely within and without, having in it a spacious Hall, where they daily meet at Commons, Lectures, Exercises, and a large Library, with some books to it."

The rules and regulations of Harvard in early times are interesting to us of later generations. The following are specimens:--

"When any scholar is able to read Tully, or such like classical Latin author EXTEMPORE, and make and speak true Latin in verse and prose suo (ut aiunt) Marte, and decline perfectly the paradigms of nouns and verbs in the Greek tongue, then may he be admitted into the College, nor shall any claim admission before such qualifications."

"Every one shall consider the main end of his life and studies, to know God and Jesus Christ, which is eternal life."

"Every one shall so exercise himself in reading the Scriptures twice a day, that they be ready to give an account of their proficiency therein, both in theoretical observations of language and logic, and in practical and spiritual truths, as their Tutor shall require."

"They shall honor as their parents, magistrates, elders, tutors, and aged persons, by being silent in their presence (except they be called on to answer)."

"None shall pragmatically intrude or inter meddle in other men's affairs."

"No scholar shall buy, sell, or exchange any thing, to the value of sixpence, without the allowance of his parents, guardians or tutors."

"The scholars shall never use their mother tongue, except that in public exercise of oratory, or such like, they be called to make them in English."

"Every scholar, that on proof is found able to read the original of the Old and New Testament into the Latin tongue, and to resolve them logically, withal being of honest life and conversation, and at any public act hath the approbation of the Overseers and Master of the College, may be invested with his first degree."

"No scholar whatever, without the fore-acquaintance and leave of the President and his Tutor, or, in the absence of either of them, two of the Fellows shall be present at or in any of the public civil meetings, or concourse of people, as courts of justice, elections, fairs, or at military exercise, in the time or hours of the College exercise, public or private. Neither shall any scholar exercise himself in any military band, unless of known gravity, and of approved sober and virtuous conversation, and that with the leave of the President and his Tutor."

"No scholar shall take tobacco, unless permitted by the President, with the consent of their parents or guardians, and on good reason first given by a physician, and then in a sober and private mariner."

"No Freshman shall wear his hat in the College yard, unless it rains, hails, or snows, provided he be on foot and have not both hands full."

"Freshmen are to consider all the other classes as their Seniors."

"No Freshman shall speak to a Senior with his hat on; or have it on in a Senior's chamber, or in his own if a Senior be there."

"All Freshmen shall be obliged to go on any errand, for any of his Seniors, Graduates or Undergraduates, at any time, except in studying hours, or after nine o'clock in the evening."

The faculty, if they were knowing to it, could stop the performance of an improper errand. They would have been likely to know little about them.

Pages might be quoted of these curious and interesting rules and customs. But these must suffice. Enough has been given to show the immense progress which has been made from the time of the cruel Eaton to that of the dignified, able, and judicious President Eliot, under whose fortunate administration, the University has wonderfully increased, materially and in every way.

The first President was Henry Dunster, a man of learning and cultivation. He entered upon his office, August 27, 1640, and left it, October 24, 1654. It was during his administration that most of those unique rules were established which I have quoted. We can see in them the evident origin or occasion of hazing the Freshmen, which would naturally follow such rules. At the present day, be it known, the custom has entirely ceased. The Freshmen of to-day are treated like gentlemen by all classes. All the students are placed on their honor, in every way, save only in some necessary particulars. Hazing has passed into history as a barbarous custom of the past, and the deportment of the students to-day is that of gentlemen, with very rare exceptions, such as might be expected among so large a number. In the great Memorial Hall, where they eat, the best of deportment is always to be seen, and everywhere there is now a pride, in all departments of the University, in observing the proprieties of good conduct. Indeed this has always been the rule. The hazing has never been so extensively practised as many have supposed; and no body of men can anywhere be found, in Congress, legislatures, schools, academies, or colleges, whose deportment excels in excellence that of the students of Harvard University. This observation is demanded from the fact that many parents, some of whom are known the writer, have decided to send sons to other institutions, on the very ground of the influence of college customs and habits.

* * * * *

THE DEFENCE OF NEW YORK, 1776.

By Henry B. Carrington, U.S.A., LL.D.

[The siege of Boston gave to the Continental Army that instruction in
military engineering, and that contact with a disciplined foe, which
prepared it for the immediate operations at New York and in New Jersey.
(See The Bay State Monthly, January, 1884, pages 37-44.)

The occupation and defence of New York and Brooklyn, so promptly made,
was a strategic necessity, fully warranted by existing conditions,
although temporary.]

It is not easy to reconcile the views which we take, in turn, through the eye and object lenses of a field-glass, so that the real subject of examination will not be distorted by too great nearness or remoteness.

If we bring back to this hour the events of one hundred years ago, it is certain that the small armies and the smaller appliances of force then in use will seem trifling, in contrast with those which have so recently wearied science and have tasked invention in the work and waste of war.

If we thrust them back to their proper place behind the memory of all living men, we only see a scattered people, poorly armed, but engaged in hopeful conflict with Great Britain, then mistress of the seas, proudly challenging the world to arms, and boldly vindicating her challenge.

In an effort to reproduce that period and so balance the opposing factors that the siege of Boston and the deliverance of Washington at Brooklyn and New York shall have fair co-relation and full bearing upon the resulting struggle for National Independence, there must be some exact standard for the test j and this will be found by grouping such data as illustrate the governing laws of military art.

It has never been claimed that the siege of Boston was not the legitimate result of British blunder and American pluck. In a previous paper, the siege itself has been presented as that opportunity and training-school exercise which projected its experience into the entire war, and assured final triumph. It has not been as generally accepted, as both philosophical and necessary, that the fortification and defence of Brooklyn became the wise and inevitable sequence to that siege.

Let us drop a century and handle the old records.

If Great Britain had not called continental auxiliaries to her aid in 1776, her disposable force for colonial service would have been less than half of the army of Washington.

Until the fortification of Brooklyn and New York had been well advanced, the British ministry had not been able to assign even fifteen thousand men for that service. General Clinton did, indeed, anchor at the New York Narrows, just when General Charles Lee reached that city for its defence, but did not risk a landing, and sailed for South Carolina, only to be repulsed.

The British Crown had no alternative but to seek foreign aid. The appeal to Catharine of Russia for twenty thousand men was met by the laconic response, "There are other ways of settling this dispute than by resort to arms." The Duke of Richmond prophetically declared, "The colonies themselves, after our example, will apply to strangers for assistance." The opposition to hiring foreign troops was so intense, that, for many weeks, there was no practical advance in preparations for a really effective blow at the rebels, while the rebellion itself was daily gaining head and spirit.

The British army, just before the battle of Long Island, including Hessians, Brunswickers, and Waldeckers, was but a little larger than that which the American Congress, as early as October 4, 1775, had officially assigned to the siege operations before Boston. That force was fixed at twenty-three thousand, three hundred and seventy-two men. General Howe landed about twenty thousand men. With the sick, the reserves on Staten Island, all officers and supernumeraries included, his entire force exhibited a paper strength of thirty-one thousand, six hundred and twenty-five men. It is true that General Howe claimed, after the battle of Long Island, that his entire force (Hessians included) was only twenty four thousand men, and that Washington opposed the advance of his division with twenty thousand men. The British muster rolls, as exhibited before the British Parliament, accord with the statement already made. The actual force of the American army at Brooklyn was not far from nine thousand men, instead of twenty thousand, and the effective force (New York included) was only about twenty thousand men. As the British regiments brought but six, instead of eight, companies to a battalion, there is evidence that Washington himself occasionally over-estimated the British force proper; but the foreign battalions realized their full force, and they were paid accordingly, upon their muster rolls. Nearly three fifths of General Howe's army was made up from continental mercenaries. These troops arrived in detachments, to supplement the army which otherwise would have been entirely unequal to the conquest of New York, if the city were fairly defended.

If, on the other hand, Washington had secured the force which he demanded from Congress, namely, fifty-eight thousand men, which was, indeed (but too tardily), authorized, he could have met General Howe upon terms of numerical equality, backed by breast-works, and have held New York with an equal force.

This estimate, by Washington himself, of the contingencies of the campaign, will have the greater significance when reference is made to the details of British preparations in England.

While Congress did, indeed, as early as June, assign thirteen thousand additional troops for the defence of New York, the peremptory detachment of ten battalions to Canada, in addition to previous details, persistently foiled every preparation to meet Howe with an adequate force. Regiments from Connecticut and from other colonies reported with a strength of only three hundred and sixty men. While the "paper strength" of the army was far beyond its effective force, even the "paper strength" was but one half of the force which the Commander-in-chief had the right to assume as at his disposal.

Other facts fall in line just here.

At no later period of the war did either commander have under his immediate control so large a nominal force as then. During but one year of the succeeding struggle did the entire British army, from Halifax to the West Indies inclusive (including foreign and provincial auxiliaries), exceed, by more than seven thousand men, the force which occupied both sides of the New York Narrows in 1776. The British Army at that time, without its foreign contingent, would have been as inferior to the force which had been ordered by Congress (and should have been available) as the depleted American army of 1781 would have been inferior to the British without the French contingent.

The largest continental force under arms, in any one year of the war, did not greatly exceed forty thousand men, and the largest British force, as late as 1781, including all arrivals, numbered, all told, but forty-two thousand and seventy-five men.

The annual British average, including provincials, ranged from thirty-three to thirty-eight thousand men. The physical agencies which Great Britain employed were;, therefore, far beneath the prestige of her accredited position among the nations; and the disparity between the contending forces was mainly in discipline and equipment, with the advantage to Great Britain in naval strength, until that was supplanted by that of France.

To free the question from a popular fallacy which treats oldtime operations as insignificant, in view of large modern armies and campaigns, it is pertinent to state, just here, that the issues of the battle-field for all time, up to the latest hour, have not been determined by the size of armies, or by improvements in weapons of war, except relatively, in proportion as civilized peoples fought those of less civilization; or where some precocity of race or invention more quickly matured the operations of the winning side.

If the maxims of Napoleon are but a terse restatement of those of Caesar, and the skill of Hannibal at Cannae still holds place as a model for the concave formation of a battle-line, so have all the decisive battles of history taken shape from the timely handling of men, in the exercise of that sound judgment which adapts means to ends, in every work of life. Thus it is that equally great battles, those in the highest sense great, have become memorial, although numbers did not impart value to the struggle; but they were the expression of that skill and wisdom which would have ensured success, if the opposing armies had been greater or less.

If a timely fog did aid the retreat of Washington from Brooklyn, in 1776, so did a petty stream, filled to the brim by a midnight shower, make altogether desperate, if it did not, alone, change, the fortunes of Napoleon at Waterloo.

If, also, the siege of Yorktown, in 1781, was conducted by few against few, as compared with modern armies, it is well to note the historical fact that, at the second siege, in 1861, the same ravine was used by General Poe (United States Engineers) to connect "parallels," and thereby save a "regular approach." Numbers did not change relations, but simply augmented the physical force employed and imperilled.

He who can seize the local, incidental, and seemingly immaterial elements which enter into all human plans, and convert them into determining factors, is to be honored; but the man who can so anticipate the possibilities and risks which lie ahead, that the world counts as a miracle, or, at least, as marvelous, that which is only the legitimate result of faith, courage, and skill, is truly great. Washington did it. His retreat from Long Island was deliberately planned before he had a conference with his subordinates; and the entire policy and conduct of his operations at and near New York will defy criticism. To hold the facts of the issue discussed, right under the light on that military science (that is, that mental philosophy which does not change with physical modes and appliances), is simply to bring out clearly the necessity for the occupation of New York and Brooklyn by Washington in 1776.

The mere statement of the British forces which were available in 1776 will show that if Washington knew, in advance, exactly what he had to meet, then he had a right to anticipate a successful resistance. As early as July, 1775, he demanded that the army should be enlisted "for the war." In a previous article, the policy of the Commander-in-chief and of General Greene was noticed, and the formulated proposition, then accepted by both, gave vitality and hope to the struggle. When the issue ripened at New York, and, swiftly as possible, the besieging force before Boston became the resisting force at New York, there was one man who understood the exact issue. The temper of the British press, and that of the British House of Commons, was fully appreciated by the American Commander-in-chief. He knew that General Gage had urged that "thirty thousand men, promptly sent to America, would be the quickest way to save blood and end the war." He also knew that when John Wesley predicted that "neither twenty, forty, nor sixty thousand men would suppress the rebellion," the British Cabinet had placed before Parliament a careful statement of the entire resources which were deemed available for military purposes abroad. As early as May, 1776, Washington was advised of the following facts:--

First, That the contracts at that time made with continental States, including that with Hesse and Brunswick, would place at British disposal a nominal strength of fifty-five thousand men.

Second, That, with all due allowance for deficiencies, the effective force, as claimed by the ministry, could not exceed, but might fall below, forty thousand men.

The debate in Parliament was so sharp, and the details of the proposed operations were so closely defined and analyzed, that Washington had full right to assume, as known, the strength of his adversary.

When, during May, 1776, the American Congress sent troops from New York to Canada, he sharply protested, thus: "This diversion of forces will endanger both enterprises; for Great Britain will attempt to capture New York as well as Canada, if they have the men." He did not believe that they would capture New York, if he could acquire and retain the force which he demanded.

The point to be made emphatic, is this: That, from the date of the call of Massachusetts, early in 1775, for thirty thousand men, up to the occupation of New York, the force which he had the right to assume as at his own disposal was equal to the contingencies of the conflict; and that, when he did occupy New York, and begin its exterior defences at Brooklyn, the British ministry had admitted its inability to send to America a force sufficiently strong to capture the city. The maximum force proposed was less than that which Congress could easily supply for resistance. In other words, Washington would not have to fight Great Britain, but a specific force; namely, all that Great Britain could spare for that service; so that the issue was not between the new Republic and England, but between the Republic and a single army, of known elements and numbers. In fact, the opinion that France had already made war upon England had so early gained credit, that Washington, while still in New York, was forced to issue an order correcting the rumor, and thus prevent undue confidence and its corresponding neglect to meet the demands of the crisis.

Thus far, it is clear that there was nothing extravagant in the American claim to independence; nor in the readiness of Washington to seize and hold New York; nor in his belief that the colonial resources were equal to the contest.

One other element is of determining value as to the necessity for his occupation and defence of Brooklyn Heights. New York was the only base from which Great Britain could operate against the colonies as an organized State. By Long Island Sound and the Hudson River, her right hand would hold New England under the guns of her warships, and by quick occupation of Chesapeake and Delaware Bays and their tributary streams, her left hand would cut off the South.

If the views of Lord Dartmouth had prevailed, in 1775, there would have been no siege of Boston; but New York would have had a garrison fully equal to its defence, while sparing troops for operations outside. But the prompt occupation of New York, as the headquarters of revolution, was a clear declaration to the world, and to the scattered people of the colonies, that a new nation was asserting life, and that its soil was free from a hostile garrison. The occupation of New York centralized, at the social, commercial, and natural capital of the Republic, all interests and resources, and gave to the struggle real force, inspiration, and dignity.

Just as the men at Bunker Hill fought so long as powder and ball held out, but could not have been led to assail, in open field, the veterans whom they did, in fact, so effectively resist; and, as very often, a patriotic band has bravely defended, when unequal to aggressive action,--so the possession, defence, and even the loss, of New York, as an incident of a campaign, were very different from an effort to wrest the city from the grasp of a British garrison, under cover of yawning broadsides.

History is replete with facts to show how hopefully men will seek to regain lost positions, when an original capture would have been deemed utterly hopeless. Poland wellnigh regained a smothered nationality through an inspiration, which never could have been evoked, in a plan to seize from the Russian domain a grand estate, upon which to establish an original Poland.

To have held but to have lost New York, would simply show the defects of the defence, and the margin wanting in ability to retain, while no less suggesting how, in turn, it might be regained, at the right time, by adequate means and methods. The occupation and defence of Brooklyn Heights was the chief element of value in this direction. It not only combined the general protection of the city and post, in connection with the works upon Governor's Island, but to have neglected either would have admitted an inability to retain either.

British troops at Brooklyn would command New York. American troops at Brooklyn presented the young nation in the attitude of guarding the outer doorway of its freshly-asserted independence. It put the British to the defensive, and compelled them to risk the landing of a large army, after a protracted ocean voyage, before they could gain a footing and measure strength with the colonists. It does not lessen our estimate of the skill of Washington to know that Congress failed to supply adequate forces; but he made wise estimates, and had reason to expect a prompt response to his requisitions.

That episode at Breed's Hill, which tested the value of even a light cover for keen sharpshooters, had so warned Howe of the courage of his enemy that the garrison of Bunker Hill had never worried Putnam's little redoubt across the Charlestown Isthmus; neither had the troops at Boston ever assailed, with success, the thin circumvallation which protected the besiegers.

At Brooklyn, Washington established ranges for firing-parties, so that the rifle could be intelligently and effectively used, as the British might, in turn, approach the danger line. All these preparations, although impaired by the illness and absence of General Greene, had been so well devised, that even after General Howe gained the rear of Sullivan and Stirling and captured both, he halted before the entrenchments and resorted to regular approaches rather than venture an assault.

If that portion of the proper garrison of New York which had been sent to Canada, to waste from disease and fill six thousand graves, had been available at New York, they might have made of Jamaica Ridge and Prospect Hill a British Golgotha before the lines of Brooklyn.

If we conceive of an invasion of New York to-day, other than by some devastating fleet, we can at once see that the whole outline of defence as proposed by Washington, until he ordered the retreat, was characteristic of his wisdom and his settled purpose to resist a landing, fight at every ridge, yield only to compulsion, enure his men to face fire, and "make every British advance as costly as possible to the enemy."

The summary is briefly this: There was an universal revolt of the colonies, and a fixed purpose to achieve and maintain independence. There was, at the same time, in England, not only a vigorous opposition to the use of force, but a clearly-defined exhibit of the maximum military resources which its authorities could call into exercise. Imminent European complications were already bristling for battle, both by land and sea, and Great Britain was without a continental ally or friend. As the British resources were thus definitely defined, so was the military policy distinctly stated; namely, to make, as the first objective, the recovery of New York, and its acceptance as the permanent base for prosecution of the war. The first blow was designed to be a fatal blow. It was for Washington to take the offensive. He did so, and by the occupation of New York and Brooklyn put himself in the attitude of resisting invasion, rather than as attempting the expulsion of a rightful British garrison from the British capital of its American colonies.

Not only did the metal of such men as he commanded stand fire on the seventeenth of June, 1775, at Breed's Hill, but when he followed up the expulsion of the garrison of Boston by the equally aggressive demonstrations at New York, he gave assurance of the thoroughness of his purpose to achieve independence, and thereby inspired confidence at home and abroad. The failure to realize a competent field force for the issue with Howe, and the circumstances of the retreat and evacuation, do not impair the statement that, in view of his knowledge of British resources and those of America, the occupation and defence of Brooklyn and New York was a military necessity, warranted by existing conditions, and not impaired by his disappointment in not securing a sufficient force to meet his enemy upon terms of equality and victory. It increases our admiration of that strategic forethought which habitually inspired him to maintain an aggressive attitude, until the surrender at Yorktown consummated his plans, and verified his wisdom and his faith.

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