memories. The old ship's course is run. She will never face the seas nor front the foes again. The end of a great career, always pathetic to the finite mind, is here very present to us. But that is not all which genius has put upon the canvas. Turner was painting more than water, sky, and ship. He has touched the scene with the enchanter's wand, and we behold, as in the magic mirror, the story of England's navy. The long roll of her sea fights stretches out before us. All the great figures are there, from Grenville sinking on the Revenge, ringed round by foes, and Blake burning the Spanish ships at Cadiz and sweeping through the Mediterranean, to Nelson dying victorious at Trafalgar. Above all, the "Fighting Temeraire" speaks to us of that supreme period of England's naval history when she had crushed France and Spain and ruled the ocean unopposed, the great sea power of the world. Against that mighty power in full flush of victory we took up arms, and England suddenly discovered that, ship for ship and man for man, she had more than met her match. It was by no fault of their own that the United States found themselves pitted in a terrible, unequal struggle against this great antagonist. From the renewal of the Napoleonic wars after the rupture of the peace of Amiens, there was no insult, no humiliation, no outrage that the two great combatants, England and France, failed to inflict on the United States. If we were to have peace or honor or national existence, we had to fight. Thus war begun. We were utterly unprepared on land. At sea the case was very different. The career of the Constitution illustrates that of the American navy throughout the war. Commanded by Captain Isaac Hull, she left the Chesapeake on the 12th of July, 1812. On the 17th she almost ran into a British squadron, consisting of a ship of the line of sixty-four guns and four frigates. They gave chase. For three days through perilous calms when he towed and warped his ship along, through light and baffling breezes, through squalls and darkness, Hull worked his way until the last enemy dropped below the horizon. He outmaneuvered and outsailed his foes, and escaped from an overwhelming force flying the flag of the mistress of the seas. On July 26th the Constitution reached Boston, and on August 2nd set sail again and stood to the eastward. On the 19th she sighted the Guerrière, one of the ships that had pursued her, and bore down at once. There was an hour of long-range firing, and then the Constitution closed and they exchanged broadsides within pistol shot. The sea was rough, but the American aim was deadly. The Constitution was but little damaged, while the Guerrière's mizzenmast went by the board. Then Hull luffed under his enemy's bows and raked her, then wore and raked again. So near were the two ships now that they became entangled. Finally the sea forced the ships apart after this brief hand-tohand conflict, and as they separated the foremast and mainmast of the Guerrière went by the board, and she rolled, a helpless hulk, upon the waves. Hull drew off, repaired damages, and bore down again when the Guerrière struck her flag. The next day Hull took off all the British crew, and the Guerrière, shot to pieces and a mere wreck, was set on fire and blown up. We had a better ship, more men, and threw a greater weight of metal. But we also fought our ship better and were better gunners, for while the Constitution lost fourteen, killed and wounded, the Guerrière lost seventy-nine and was herself utterly destroyed. Hull returned in triumph to Boston, and the news of his victory filled the country with pride and England with alarm. At that period England, naturally, considered herself invincible. The results hitherto had justified their confidence, but now sprang up a people who had faster ships, sailed better, and shot straighter than they, and who were always quite as ready as they to come to close quarters by boarding. One frigate was nothing, but the facts flashed out in this first fight of the Constitution were impressive indeed. The men who fell upon the decks of the Constitution or who died at Gettysburg and Shiloh represented the highest and noblest spirit of which a race is capable. Without that spirit of patriotism, courage, and self-sacrifice no nation can long exist, and the greatest material success in the hands of the cringing and timid will quickly turn to dust and ashes. The Constitution, as she lies in our harbor to-day, is an embodiment and memorial of that lofty patriotism. Built, launched, and saved here in Boston, is it any wonder that we have a peculiar attachment to the old frigate and should feel that this ought to be her home and resting-place? And yet we know that she is not our ship. She did not win her victories for Massachusetts, but for the United States. She was the nation's ship and fought the nation's battle beneath the nation's flag. HENRY CABOT LODGE. AN INSCRIPTION He that cannot think, is a fool, He that dare not, is a slave. OLD IRONSIDES Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! Beneath it rang the battle shout, Shall sweep the clouds no more. Her deck once red with heroes' blood, No more shall feel the victor's tread O, better that her shattered hulk Her thunders shook the mighty deep, Nail to the mast her holy flag, Set every threadbare sail, And give her to the god of storms The lightning and the gale! OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. |