Charles Rufus Skinner.

Manual of patriotism : for use in the public schools of the State of New York online

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States ships, in spite of forts, in spite of agreements, to sail up the
Dardanelles, plant themselves before Constantinople, and demand that
American citizens should have the protection to which they are entitled.
I do not love Great Britain particularly; but I think that one of the
grandest things in all the history of Great Britain is that she does
protect her subjects everywhere, anywhere, and under all circum-
stances. This incident is a marvellous illustration of the protection
which Great Britain gives to her subjects: The King of Abyssinia took
a British subject, about twenty years ago, carried him up to the fortress
of Magdala, on the heights of a rocky mountain, and put him into a
dungeon, without cause assigned. It took six months for Great
Britain to find that out. Then she demanded his immediate release.
King Theobald refused. In less than ten days after that refusal was
received, ten thousand English soldiers were on board ships of war,
and were sailing down the coast. When they reached the coast, they
were disembarked, marched across that terrible country, a distance of
seven hundred miles, under a burning sun, up the mountain, up to the
very heights in front of the frowning dungeon; and there they gave
battle, battered down the iron gates of the stone walls, reached down
into the dungeon, and lifted out of it that one British subject. Then
they carried him down the mountain, across the land, put him on board
a white-winged ship, and sped him home in safety. That cost Great
Britain twenty-five millions of dollars. But was it not a great thing
for a great country to do? A country that can see across the ocean,
across the land, away up to the mountain height, and away down to
the darksome dungeon, one subject of hers, out of thirty-eight millions
of people, and then has an arm strong enough, and long enough to
stretch across the same ocean, across the same lands, up the same
mountain heights, down to the same dungeon, and lift him out and


carry him home to his own country and friends, in God's name, who
would not die for a country that will do that? Well, our country will
do it, and our country ought to do it; and all that I ask is that our
country shall model itself after Great Britain in this one thing: The
life of an American citizen must be protected, wherever he may be.—
William P. Frye, from a speech delivered in the United States Senate,
on the Armenian resolutions.


Are ye all there? Are ye ajl there,

Stars in my country's sky?
Are ye all there? Are ye all there,
In your shining homes on high?
"Count us! Count us," was their answer,
As they dazzled on my view,
In glorious perihelion,
Amid their field of blue.

I cannot count ye rightly;

There's a cloud with sable rim;
I cannot make your number out,

For my eyes with tears are dim.
O bright and blessed angel,

On white wing floating by,
Help me to count, and not to miss

One star in my country's sky!

Then the angel touched mine eyelids,

And touched the frowning cloud;
And its sable rim departed,

And it fled with murky shroud.
There was no missing Pleiad

'Mid all that sister race;
The Southern Cross gleamed radiant forth,

And the Pole Star kept its place.

Then I knew it was the angel

Who woke the hymning strain
That at our Redeemer's birth

Pealed out o'er Bethlehem's pjain;


And still its heavenly key-stone
My listening country held,

For all her constellated stars
The diapason swelled.

— Lydia Huntley Sigourney.


Though many and bright are the stars that appear

In that flag by our country unfurled,
And the stripes that are swelling in majesty there,

Like a rainbow adorning the world,
Their light is unsullied as those in the sky

By a deed that our fathers have done,
And they're linked in as true and as holy a tie

In their motto of " Many in one."

Then up with our flag! — let it stream on the air;

Though our fathers are cold in their graves,
They had hands that could strike, they had souls that could dare,

And their sons were not born to be slaves.
Up, up with that banner! where'er it may call.

Our millions shall rally around,
And a nation of freemen that moment shall fall

When its stars shall be trailed on the ground.

— George Washington Cutler.


Note : — This song was inspired by a visit of Mrs. Howe to the " Circling Camps " around Washington, gathered for the dsfence of
the Capital, early in the War of 1S61 -5.

Julia Ward Howe.
, Allegretto. s * n v



-*- 1 -


Mine eyes have seen the glo - ry of the com -ing of the Lord; He is

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hun-dred cir - cling camps; They have

I have read a fie - ry gos - pel, writ in burnished rows of steel; "As ye

He has sound-ed forth the trum - pet that shall nev - er call re - treat ;


5. In the beau-ty of the HI - ies,Christ was born a - cross the sea,

f\ It IS

He is

With a

4— U- =i=







tramp - ling out the vin - tage where the grapes of wrath are stored ;

build - ed Him an al - tar in the eve - ning dews and damps;

deal with my con - tern - ners, so with you my grace shall deal;

sift - ing out the hearts of men be -fore His judg-ment seat;

glo - ry in His bo - sora that trans - fig - ures you and me;

r r — h












-* N



j=f ^==rjz=B=^ JE

loosed the fate - f ul
read His righteous
He - ro, born of
swift, my soul, to
died to make men

-r* — *-*


lightning of His ter - ri-ble swift sword, His truth is
sen-tence by the dim and flar - ing lamps, His day is
wo-man,crushthe ser-pent with His heel," Since God is
an-swerHim! be ju - bi-lant, my feet! Our God is
ho - ly, let us die to make men free, While God is

js fc -•- -•-

i-t— 4 — n-s— • — c p ,f~ — t-


marching on.

marching on.

marching on.

marching on.

marching on.









Full Chorus.


E *=*=^=*




Glo - ry! glo - ry! Hal- le - lu - jah! Glo - ry! glo - ry ! Hal - le - lu











Glo - ry! glo - ry! Hal - le - lu - jah! His truth is march - ing



r — r

By special arrangement with Houghton, Mifflin & Co.




i. The Minute Man, 3. March of Flags,

2. Departure and Return of 4. Army and Navy,

States, 5, Homage to Columbia, —




1. Longfellow, 3. Holmes,

2. Whittier, 4. Lowell.



HERE is hardly any kind of patriotic exercise in which
children give so much pleasure, or from which they re-
ceive so much profit, as in the representation, in costume,
of a great historical event. It is true that such picture-
grouping cannot easily be arranged for an ordinary school-
opening. But now and then, on a public occasion in afternoon
or evening, there is nothing into which children will so heartily
enter as such a pictorial exercise; and there is always some teacher,
or children's friend, to be found who has the needful enthusiasm,
intelligence and ingenuity to make the matter a success. And let
nobody think that great elaboration or expense of costuming is
needful. Things simply and inexpensively made, or the use of an
old-time coat or dress found in a garret or unused drawer at home,
may serve all needful purposes. To all taking part, the meaning of
the exercise should be made clear, — and indeed it is well, on printed
program, or by oral explanation, to give a preliminary hint to the
audience. Several pictorial programs follow, for the benefit of those
who believe that novelty induces interest, and interest — in things
patriotic as in things financial — begets profit.


The name, " Minute Man " refers to those patriots in the time of
the American Revolution, who were ready, " at a minute's notice " to
seize their muskets and fight against the British. This was exactly
what they did when the " Redcoats " came marching from Boston on
through Lexington to Concord. No better idea could be given of the
intention of the British than is conveyed by Longfellow's poem of
" Paul Revere's Ride." This might be read or recited before the
tableau is shown. In the tableau the central figure should be a minute
man. A good model of him may be had by studying a photograph of




French's " Minute Man," a finely chiseled bronze statue, standing near
the Concord bridge, at a point where the colonial farmers met the
British regulars, and sent them, frightened and flying, back towards
Boston. About this central figure group thirteen girls, in white, repre-
senting the original colonies that stood " shoulder to shoulder " during
the Revolution; their arms raised and hands extended as if to bid the
rustic soldier " God speed " in his defence of native land. While the
tableau is still in view, let a clear-voiced and intelligent pupil repeat the
famous ode written and recited by the great American scholar and
patriot, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Here it is:

By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,

Here once the embattled farmers stood,
And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept;

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;
And Time the ruined bridge has swept

Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream,

We set to-day a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,

When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made these heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,

Bid Time and Nature gently spare

The shaft we raise to them and thee.

As the poem ends, or even before if the young folks cannot hold
their positions, let the curtain fall, and have a good boy speaker declaim
" The Minute Man " by another great American, George William



The Minute Man of the Revolution! And who was he? He was
the husband and father, who left the plough in the furrow, the hammer
on the bench, and, kissing wife and children, marched to die or to be
free! He was the old, the middle aged, the young. He was Captain
Miles, of Acton, who reproved his men for jesting on the march! He
was Deacon Josiah Haines, of Sudbury, eighty years old, who marched
with his company to South Bridge, at Concord, then joined in that hot
pursuit to Lexington, and fell as gloriously as Warren at Bunker Hill.
He was James Hayward of Acton, twenty-two years old, foremost in
that deadly race from Charlestown to Concord, who raised his piece at
the same moment with a British soldier, each exclaiming, " You are a
dead man! " The Briton dropped, shot through the heart. Hayward
fell, mortally wounded. This was the Minute Man of the Revolution!
The rural citizen, trained in the common school, the town meeting,
who carried a bayonet that thought, and whose gun, loaded with a
principle, brought down, not a man, but a system. With brain and
heart and conscience all alive, he opposed every hostile order of British
council. The cold Grenville, the brilliant Townsend, the reckless Hills-
borough, derided, declaimed, denounced, laid unjust taxes, and sent
troops to collect them, and the plain Boston Puritan laid his finger on
the vital point of the tremendous controversy, and held to it inexorably.
Intrenched in his own honesty, the king's gold could not buy him;
enthroned in the love of his fellow-citizens, the king's writ could not
take him; and when, on the morning at Lexington, the king's troops
marched to seize him, his sublime faith saw, beyond the clouds of the
moment, the rising sun of the America we behold, and careless of him-
self, mindful only of his country, he exultingly exclaimed, " Oh, what
a glorious morning! " He felt that a blow would soon be struck that
would break the heart of British tyranny. His judgment, his con-
science told him the hour had come. Unconsciously, his heart beat
time to the music of the slave's epitaph:

" God wills us free;
Man wills us slaves;
I will as God wills:
God's will be done!"

— George William Curtis.




In the year 1861, as every intelligent boy and girl should know,
the following States resolved to sever their connection with the Union,
or, as the phrase ran in those days — "to secede" from the Union:
South Carolina, Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana,
Texas. Arkansas, North Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee followed. It
was a sad day for our country when they decided thus to leave the
National roof and the House of the Union that had sheltered them so
long! But they seemed to think they were right, and so they marched
forth with a very defiant air. Choose, then, seven girls of spirit to repre-
sent these departing States. Let South Carolina, bearing a palmetto
branch, be the leader, — and all attired in white. Then let the Northern,
Eastern, Western States be each represented by a girl, — or if that
would make the number too great, let three girls stand, one each, for
the North, the East, the West. Let these, in black, take their places
in the background, center of the stage or platform, with their eyes
downcast, while, to the playing of a piece in a minor key, the procession
of the Southern States sweeps by. As they disappear, the North, East,
West pass slowly off at the opposite side of the platform. Straight-
way a sympathetic voice repeats the following poem:


By the flow of the inland river,

Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave-grass quiver,

Asleep are the ranks of the dead;
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Under the one, the Blue;

Under the other, the Gray.

These in the robings of glory,

Those in the gloom of defeat;
All with the battle-blood gory,

In the dust of eternity meet;
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Under the laurel, the Blue;

Under the willow, the Gray.


From the silence of sorrowful hours,

The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers.

Alike for the friend and the foe;
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Under the roses, the Blue;

Under the lilies, the Gray.

So, with an equal splendor,

The morning sun-rays fall,
With a touch impartially tender,

On the blossoms blooming for all;
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue;

Mellowed with gold, the Gray.

So, when the summer calleth,

On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth

The cooling drip of the rain;
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue;
Wet with the rain, the Gray.

Sadly, but not with upbraiding,

The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading

No braver battle was won;
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue;

Under the garlands, the Gray.

No more shall the war-cry sever,

Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever,

When they laurel the graves of our dead.
Under the sod and the dew,

Waiting the judgment day;
Love and tears for the Blue;

Tears and love for the Gray.

— Francis Miles Finch.



Just as the voice dies away, to a march in major key, the Northern
States, in white, march in with flags waving, escorting the Southern
States, waving flags also — and all march about the stage singing as
only patriotic children can sing, "My Country! 'tis of Thee." After
the curtain falls, let the children be seated, or grouped, upon the stage.
When the curtain has been raised, let a good speaker declaim the
following extract from that great Union Southern citizen, Henry W.
Grady; another, the next selection from a great Northern citizen,
Robert C. Winthrop.


With consecrated service, what could we not accomplish; what
riches we should gather; what glory and prosperity we should render
to the Union; what blessings we should gather into the universal
harvest of humanity. As I think of it, a vision of surpassing beauty
unfolds to my eyes. I see a South, the home of fifty millions of people,
who rise up every day to call from blessed cities, vast hives of industry
and thrift; her country-sides the treasures from which their resources
are drawn; her streams vocal with whirring spindles; her valleys tranquil
in the white and gold of the harvest; her mountains showering down
the music of bells, as her slow-moving flocks and herds go forth from
their folds; her rulers honest and her people loving, and her homes
happy and their hearth-stones bright, and their waters still and their
pastures green, and her conscience clear; her wealth diffused, and poor-
houses empty; her churches earnest and all creeds lost in the gospel.
Peace and sobriety walking hand in hand through her borders; honor
in her homes; uprightness in her midst; plenty in her fields; straight
and simple faith in the hearts of her sons and daughters; her two races
walking together in peace and contentment ; sunshine everywhere and
all the time, and night falling on her gently as from the wings of the
unseen dove.

All this, my country, and more, can we do for you. As I look, the
vision grows, the splendor deepens, the horizon falls back, the skies


open their everlasting gates, and the glory of the Almighty God streams
through as He looks down on His people who have given themselves
unto Him, and leads them from one triumph to another until they
have reached a glory unspeakable, and the whirling stars, as in their
courses through Arcturus they run to the Milky Way, shall not look
down on a better people or happier land. — Henry W. Grady, from an
address delivered at Dallas, Texas, October 26, 1887.

We are one, by the memories of our fathers! We are one, by the
hopes of our children! We are one, by a Constitution and a Union
which have not only survived the shock of foreign and of civil war, but
have stood the abeyance of almost all administration, while the whole
people were waiting, breathless in alternate hope and fear, for the issues'
of an execrable crime! We are one, bound together afresh, by the
electric chords of sympathy and sorrow, vibrating and thrilling, day by
day, of that live-long summer, through every one of our hearts, for
our basely wounded and bravely suffering President, bringing us all
down on our knees together, in common supplication for his life, and
involving us all at last in a common flood of grief at his death! I
dare not linger on that great affliction, which has added, indeed, " an-
other hallowed name to the historical inheritance of our Republic,"
but which has thrown a pall of deepest tragedy upon the falling curtain
of our first century. Oh, let not its influence be lost upon us for the
century to come, but let us be one, henceforth and always, in mutual
regard, conciliation, and affection!

" Go on, hand in hand, O States, never to be disunited! Be the
praise and heroic song of all posterity! Join your invincible might to
do worthy and godlike deeds! — Robert C. Winthrop.



In this tableau, an even number of boys and girls — any con-
venient number, all carrying flags, march upon the stage to the music
of " Stars and Stripes Forever," by Sousa. It may be well also to
have one additional boy and one girl, with larger flags, round which the
rest of the little flag-company may march or wheel. If blue suits for
the boys and white for the girls cannot be had, ordinary costumes will
do — especially if the boys will wear soldiers' caps, and the girls, sailor
or liberty caps. The marching may be very simple or very intricate,
according to time and ingenuity. A pleasing effect will be produced
if during the march the flags are massed or " stacked " in the center of
the stage, leaving the two standard-bearers there as a guard of honor
while the rest of the company resume the march around the flags.
After a time, the marchers return to the center, each taking a flag
from one or other of the standard bearers. Then marching away, but
soon returning to the stage-center, they form a tableau, by grouping
themselves about the two leaders — the latter standing erect and fac-
ing front, while the rest, each holding the flag in the left hand, with
the right remove the cap, bowing to and saluting the two central ban-
ners on the stage. Then the curtain falls.


To the music of familiar tunes, the thirteen colonies, represented
by as many girls, march in, in single file, and in the order of the creation
of the various colonies as states. They are followed, similarly, by
other girls representing the remaining thirty-two states. All march as
they may be directed by their teacher-leader, going through, for a
little time, with evolutions more or less varied. Finally, as they range
into lines at opposite sides of the stage, the boys march in, in single
flle — the " Army " distinguished by blue coats and soldier caps —
the " Navy " by blue blouses and sailor caps. They form a tableau-
group in center of stage, with a tall boy as color-sergeant, flag in hand,
in the midst of the group. Then the " States " resume their march,
circling about the mid-stage soldiers and sailors — and at length all
march off the stage in the following order: (1) The Color-Bearer; (2)



The Thirteen Colonies; (3) The Army and Navy; (4) The States. A
beautiful color effect will be added to the stage-picture if each girl will
carry a short staff with a small " banneret " of red or blue, with the
name of colony or state in white letters in the center. Let the soldier-
boys carry muskets, easily made — the sailor-boys, cutlasses. One flag
will suffice to give distinction to the entire tableau.


Columbia should be impersonated by the " Goddess of Liberty "

a girl whose pleasing face and tall figure may come nearest to the ideal
of such a character. She should be seated in a chair placed upon a
platform or dais. The best costume, — a white dress with the flag
draped over it,— or, a flag-dress, such as any skillful and tasty lady
teacher can readily make. Upon the head of the Goddess, let a crown,
or wreath, or liberty cap be placed; let her right hand carry a spear,
surmounted by an eagle. Thus placed and ready, the curtain may be
raised. To the sound of march-music the States of the Union, repre-
sented by girls, march in,— and following, an equal number of boys,
as soldiers and sailors, to stand for the Army and Navy. In single
file they pass before the Goddess, each one in turn bowing to her,
then passing to form a line at the back of the stage. The march proper
may then begin — changing from " ones " to " twos " and " fours," or
even wider lines — a boy and girl marching together, well-matched in
size and bearing. How to vary the march and execute its " figures,"
some teacher in every school will well understand. I have tried the
plan — and it worked admirably — of having each girl carry a ban-
neret of red cloth on which was sewed, in white letters, the name of a
state; the soldier boys carrying toy guns; the sailor lads, paper cut-
lasses. At the proper time, the Goddess rises — signals for the troop
to wheel before her, raise aloft their bannerets and weapons, then bow
— as the Goddess extends her spear — bowing lower as the curtain


i. Henry W. Longfellow, born February 2.7, 1807.

2. John G. Whittier, born December 17, 1807.

3. Oliver Wendell Holmes, born August 29, 1809.

4. James Russell Lowell, born February 22, 1819.

It would not be possible to estimate the influence which these four
poets have had upon our national life and character. They were all
born in New England; — yet they all wrote on themes that concerned
the whole country. Surely a half-hour, or indeed a half-day, could not
be more profitably spent than in reading aloud or reciting a few of the

Online LibraryCharles Rufus SkinnerManual of patriotism : for use in the public schools of the State of New York → online text (page 9 of 31)