The Spirit of the people important.

clared -- brooding and brightening in the obscurest air, giving Congress its authority, giving conflict its meaning, inspiring leaders, restoring always the shattered and the scanty ranks. It was this invulnerable, inexpugnable force, which no calamities could ever overwhelm, which was sure, from the start, of the ultimate victory.

It is this, and this only, of which the world ever thinks in connection with the time, or of which the permanent history of the country will take much account. The incidents are trivial, except for their relation to this. It surprises us to remember how small. were the forces, on either side, in that “valley of decision" in which questions so vital to us, and to mankind, were submitted to the arbitrament of battle; that Burgoyne's army numbered at its surrender less than six thousand English and German troops, and had never contained more than eight thousand, with an uncertain contingent of Canadians and Indians; that at Camden, Gates had but six thousand men, only one-fourth of them Continentals, and Cornwallis but two thousand; that the force which capitulated at Yorktown was but seven thousand; and that the whole number of troops sent from England to this country, during the entire continuance of the war, was less than a hundred and thirteen thousand.

Compare these numbers with those of the large and disciplined armies which Frederick II., twenty years earlier, encountered at Rossbach and at Leuthen;

compare them with those which, thirty years after, swarmed forth from France, under Napoleon,—and they are the small dust of the balance. Compare them with those of France, on the one hand, or of Germany on the other, in their tremendous unfinished duel, and the largest battles in which our fathers took part seem skirmishes of outposts. Nay, compare them with the forces, from the North and the South, which fought each other in our late civil war, and the Revolutionary musters become nearly imperceptible.

It was the spirit behind the forces, which wielded the instruments, and compelled the events, which gave these any importance in history. Impalpable, indestructible, omnipresent in activity, self-perpetuating, there was this vital impersonal temper, common to many, superior to all, which wrought and fought, from first to last, in the Congress, on the field. In some respects it was a unique force, without precise parallel among peoples, breaking in unexpectedly on the courses of history. A more or less clear recognition of the fact has given to that time its relative prominence before mankind. A distinct apprehension of the nature of the force so victoriously revealed, is necessary to show how the Revolution became as complete and fruitful as it was, and how that small American struggle, going on in a country remote and recent, and succeeded by events incomparably more striking, has taken its place among the significant and memorable facts in the history of the world.

The Colonists plain people.

What was that force, then? and whence did it come? If I mistake not, it was ampler in its sources, more abundant, more secular, and more various in its energy, than we have often been wont to conceive.

There was certainly nothing of the ideal-heroic among the ante-Revolutionary people of this country. They did not live for sentiment, or on it. They were not doctrinaires, though they are sometimes so represented; and nothing could have been further from their plans than to make themselves champions of what did not concern them, or to go crusading for fanciful theories and imaginary prizes. They were, for the most part, intelligent, conscientious, God-fearing people—at least those were such who gave tone to their communities, and the others either accepted the impression, or achieved the imitation, of their governing spirit. But they were plain, practical people, almost wholly of the middle-class, who lived, for the most part, by their own labor, who were intent on practical advantages, and who rejoiced in conquering the wilderness, in making the marsh into a meadow, in sucking by their fisheries of the abundance of the seas, and in seeing the first houses of logs, with mud mortar, and oiled paper for glass in the windows, giving place to houses of finished timber, or imported brick, with sometimes even mahogany balustrades.

When the descendants of the settlers at the mouth of the Piscataqua, replied to a reproof of one of their ministers, that the design of their fathers in coming

thither had not been simply to cultivate religion, but also largely to trade and catch fish, they undoubtedly represented a spirit which had been common along the then recent American coast.* The Plymouth Colony was exceptional in its character. To a large extent, the later and wealthier Massachusetts Colony was animated by sovereign religious considerations; and so were those of Rhode Island and Connecticut. But they are certainly right who affirm that even these men, or many of them, showed a tough and persistent secular enterprise combining with their religious zeal. It was indeed an indispensable element to the soundness of their character. It kept them from wide fanatical excesses. It made them hardy, sagacious, indefatigable, inflexible in their hold on the fields and the freedoms which they had won.

As compared with our more recent pioneers, who have peopled the territories, subdued the mountains, and opened toward Asia the Golden Gate, the religious element was certainly more prominent in those who earliest came to this country. But even they were far from being blind to material advantages, and far enough from being willing to live as idle enthusiasts. "Give me neither poverty nor riches," was their constant prayer; with an emphasis upon "poverty.” They meant to worship God according to their consciences; and woe be to him who should forbid! But they meant, also, to get what of comfort and enjoyment * Adams' Annals of Portsmouth. Page 94.

Misconception of the Colonists easy.

they could, and of physical possession, from the world in which they worshipped; and they felt themselves co-workers with God, when the orchard was planted, and the wild vine tamed; when the English fruits had been domesticated, under the shadow of savage forests, and the maize lifted its shining ranks upon the fields that had been barren; when the wheat and rye were rooted in the valleys, and the grass was made to grow upon the mountains.

It is easy, of course, to heighten the common, to magnify the rare and superior virtues, of men to whom we owe so much. Time itself assists to this, as it makes the mosses and lichens grow on ancient walls, disguising with beauty the rent and ravage. It is easy to exaggerate their religious enthusiasm, till all the other traits of their character are dimmed by its excessive brightness. Our filial pride inclines us to this; for, if we could, we should love to feel, all of us, that we are sprung from untitled nobles, from saints who needed no canonization, from men of such heroic mould, and women of such tender devoutness, that the world elsewhere was not worthy of them; that they brought to these coasts a wholly unique celestial life, through the scanty cabins which were to it as a manger, and the quaint apparel which furnished its swaddling-clothes; that airs Elysian played around them, while they took the wilderness, as was said of the Lady Arbella Johnson, "on their way to heaven.” I cannot so read their history. Certainly, I should