Henryk Sienkiewicz Is Awarded the Nobel Prize,
September 9, 1905

 little over a century ago, Polish novelist Henryk Sienkiewicz (pronounced sane-KAY-vitch) stood apart as an international literary phenomenon when he accepted his Nobel Prize for Literature on September 9, 1905. He was trained in both law and medicine, was a respected historian, a sought-after critic and editor, a compelling lecturer and a wildly popular novelist who bent the fictional genre to potently plead his own deeply held convictions. Combining pathos, accuracy and Christian doctrine, he stood almost alone in his field by sentencing tyrants, past and present, to the yoke of Christ in his writings. He often demonstrated that not a single government on earth has been able to create a godless society that does not, in due time, worship the state rather than the Creator. Such expressions were not greatly popular even a century ago, and the award of the Nobel Prize was an unlikely destiny for a passionately ethnic writer hailing from isolated, backward and agrarian Poland.

The Nobel Prize

Henryk Sienkiewicz (1846-1916)

Born in 1846, Sienkiewicz lived during one of the most tumultuous periods of Central European history, witnessing the numerous ideological revolutions that followed in the wake of Napoleon’s crumbling regime, the infection of Marxism across the working class, and the rise of Stalin and Hitler amongst their respective downtrodden populace. His own nation of Poland—ancient bastion of Christianity against the Turks and the barbarian Hordes—had been cruelly and bitterly divided between the martial ambitions of the Prussian Kaiser and the Russian Tzar in the late 18th century; its kingdom ceased to exist for 123 years after they partitioned it. The once sprawling borders of its commonwealth were curtailed, its proud cultural and national inheritance was practically snuffed out altogether, all the distinctive aspects of Polish culture were outlawed and even its language was fiercely suppressed.

Sienkiewicz Birthplace and Museum in his native village of Wola Okrzejska, Poland

With such dire oppression as his daily environment, Sienkiewicz became a leader of an underground movement to recover the Polish arts—their music, poetry, journalism, history, and literature. To quote Dr. George Grant:

“He used the backdrop of the social, cultural, and political chaos to reflect both the tragedy of his people and the ultimate hope that lay in their glorious tenacity. He was thus, a true traditionalist at a time when traditionalism had been thoroughly and systematically discredited the world over—the only notable exceptions being in the American South and the Dutch Netherlands. As a result, his distinctive voice rang out in stark contrast to the din of vogue conformity. Thus, his novels not only introduced the world to Poland, they offered a stern anti-revolutionary rebuke in the face of Modernity’s smothering political correctness.”

The village of Valea Adîncă (in what is now Moldova) was one landscape which inspired Sienkiewicz in his writings, particularly for scenes set in With Fire and Sword

In both his journalism and his art he defied every fashionable ideology springing up around him in the West as the dawning of the 20th century came into view. As Professor Maciej Gloger of Kazimierz Wielki University put it:

“Sienkiewicz countered all the pretense of the modern mind with his oeuvre and his ideological stance. He refuted the looming Communism by writing Whirlpools (Wiry) and national socialism by creating The Teutonic Knights (Krzyżacy), while his journalism accurately diagnosed the Prussian (later German) political system as one that could give rise to Nazism. Sienkiewicz incurred the anger of Polish positivists by writing the Trilogy, which negated Polish positivist utilitarianism and pointed to another identity source: Christian heroism.”

Despite tutoring, lecturing and traveling extensively on his own dime, it was not until the publishing of his renowned historical fiction epic Trilogy—published in separate parts between 1884 and 1887—that he gained the worldwide notoriety and prestige that gave him a bully pulpit from which to maintain and promote his beliefs. Trilogy was a monumental achievement of prose mastery, conveying the essence of culture on the canvas of a delightfully readable adventure story. When they were first released in the United States, the books became instant best-sellers. They made Sienkiewicz a household name, so much so that Mark Twain could assert that Sienkiewicz was the first serious, international writer to become an American literary celebrity. In his native Poland, readers loved and believed his works to so great a degree that when Sienkiewicz killed off a fan favorite character in his newest novel, With Fire and Sword, there was nationwide mourning and requests for requiem masses to be held.

Sienkiewicz in safari outfit, 1890s

Even so, the Trilogy did not achieve for him even a fraction of the acclaim that came his way with his next work, a heart-wrenching epic centered around the Christian church in the time of Nero. He named it Quo Vadis? meaning, “Wither do you go?”.

Its sweeping plot includes the mercurial machinations of Nero’s court, the rising tide of persecutions against the fledgling Christian community, the movements of the Germanic tribes along the Roman frontier, and in keeping with the nature of its author, features the Polish Ligians. It portrays in tender detail the ministries of the Apostles Peter and Paul and their last years spent nourishing the church in the moral cesspool of Rome. Sienkiewicz drew the name of his book from an old Christian legend, one that tells of Peter fleeing the Emperor’s persecutions when he had a vision of Christ along the Appian Way. Awestruck, the Apostle addressed the Lord, asking, “Quo vadis?” or “Wither do you go?”. Jesus answered him, “To Rome, to be crucified anew, inasmuch as you have abandoned my sheep”. Fully comprehending the rebuke, Peter is said to have returned to the city to face his inevitable martyrdom. Sienkiewicz’s ability in this book to stir a heartfelt loyalty in his readers is notable, and his faithfulness to the straightforward Gospel message of the early church is inspiring. But his ability to mirror the struggle of the first generation Christians against the juggernaut of absolute Caesarism with that of the struggle of modern believers against Messianic Statism was considered nothing less than brilliant.

An illustration from Quo Vadis?, 1913

“I have repeatedly sought to explain why it is that transgression—no matter how powerful or secure the transgressor, as for instance Caesar—invariably tries to justify itself by law, justice and virtue. Why take this trouble? In my opinion to slay a brother, a mother or a wife, is an act worthy only of a petty man—not of a Roman Caesar. But had I done any of these crimes I should not write letters of justification to the Senate. And yet Nero writes such letters. He strives daily to justify his crimes because he is a coward. On the other hand Tiberius too, who was no coward, always strove to justify himself. Why is this? How strange and spontaneous is this homage of Vice to Virtue! And do you know what I think? I think it is because it is written on our hearts that transgression is ugly, and virtue beautiful.”—Quo Vadis

Not surprising then that, Quo Vadis? became a model for aspiring writers and gained laud from a vast variety of contemporaries—even modernist literary staples such as Hemingway and Faulkner both argued that it was the finest historical novel ever written. And it won this unashamedly Christian author the Nobel Prize for his “astounding achievement” as an epic writer. Unable to be present to accept the award in person, his speech was read by Mrs. Danuta Wałęsa, and in it he said of his native country, which did not so much as appear on a world map at the time:

“She was pronounced dead—yet here is a proof that She lives on; She was declared incapable to think and to work—and here is proof to the contrary; She was pronounced defeated—and here is proof that She is victorious.”

Sienkiewicz in 1905, the year he received his Nobel Prize

Vevey, Switzerland, on Lake Geneva

Upon the outbreak of World War I, Poland would suffer once again in her role as the war-ravaged battleground upon which her two imperial neighbors, Germany and Russia, fought for total domination. It was a terrible state of the world, and one that Sienkiewicz had miserably anticipated. He moved his family to neutral Switzerland and remained there during the conflict, passing away in Vevey in the year 1916, with the First World War only halfway over. When Poland gained its independence in 1924, the writer’s ashes were placed in St. John’s Cathedral in Warsaw in a tomb befitting his position as a knight of the Legion of Honor.

Sienkiewicz’s Tomb, St. John’s Cathedral, Warsaw, Poland

Back in the year 1900, a national subscription of his avid readers raised enough funds to buy for him the castle in which his ancestors had once lived. It operates today as a literary museum, commemorating both the man’s own contributions and the rich cultural heritage of his native land. His works still hold their captivating appeal and more importantly, cast light on truths that are as immortal as they are hated by the modern world. And within their pages is the church’s ancient refrain, a prayer for strength and for mercy:

“I call not to they whose mortal temples are burning, but to Thee! Thou hast known suffering! Thou alone are merciful! Thou alone among gods can understand human suffering! Thou that come into the world to teach mercy to man—show mercy now!”

Henryk Sienkiewicz Chateau in Oblęgorek, Poland

Image Credits: 1 Nobel Prize (wikipedia.org) 2 Sienkiewicz portrait (wikipedia.org) 3 Birthplace and Museum (wikipedia.org) 4 Valea Adîncă (wikipedia.org) 5 Safari (wikipedia.org) 6 Quo Vadis? Illustration (wikipedia.org) 7 Sienkiewicz in 1905 (wikipedia.org) 8 Vevey, Switzerland (wikipedia.org) 9 Sienkiewicz’s Tomb (wikipedia.org) 10 Henryk Sienkiewicz Chateau (wikipedia.org)

Beatrix Potter Creates Peter Rabbit,
September 4, 1893

n this day, while on holiday in Scotland with her family, aspiring naturalist Beatrix Potter penned a note to cheer the son of a friend, a little lad who had been confined to his bed by illness. One more note of well wishes for a speedy recovery would not have stood out at all, and being a woman of imagination and compassion intertwined, Beatrix wrote the ailing child a story instead. An eight page letter to be exact, with scribbled illustrations accompanying the tale and describing the doings of a very special family of bunnies and their adventurous blue-coated brother whom she christened Peter Rabbit.

“My dear Noel,
I don’t know what to write to you, so I shall tell you a story about four little rabbits whose names were Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail and Peter. They lived with their mother in a sand bank under the root of a big fir tree.
“Now my dears,” said old Mrs. Bunny, “you may go into the field or down the lane, but don’t go into Mr. McGregor’s garden.”
Flopsy, Mopsy & Cottontail, who were good little rabbits, went down the lane to gather blackberries, but Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr. McGregor’s garden and squeezed underneath the gate…”

Mrs. Bunny readies Peter and his sisters for their outing

Page 1

…and Page 2 of the letter that gave birth to Peter Rabbit

From this simple letter sprang the beginnings of a children’s book that would be cemented as a nursery staple for generations of wholesome folk who found her gentle and moral tales to be whimsical yet strangely poignant as much of childhood itself is, full of fleeting magic, and impressionable wonder. She captured it anew in her stories and enhanced them by her evocative watercolored scenes whose blurred edges faded into the parchment as fuzzy as our imaginations’ own borders. In her future works—tales of Jeremy Fisher, Jemima Puddle Duck, A Tale of Two Bad Mice and others—Beatrix Potter forever retained her simple and joyful tone, as if each bestselling book was indeed just another letter to a little friend in need of enrichment, and a cracked door into the rich world of make-believe.

Jemima Puddle Duck and Mr. Fox

Beatrix Potter in 1894 with her father Rupert and brother Bertram

Beatrix Potter herself was born in 1866 in London to second-generation wealth, derived from tough, northern mill-owning stock. Potter grew up with a fascination for animals and a prodigious talent for portraying them visually with her pen, thanks in great part to her father who shared her inclinations. Frequent holiday-goers, the Potters were fond of visiting Scotland and Cumbria’s Lake District, and Beatrix would accompany her parents each year, as she remained single into her early thirties. It was on one of these trips she wrote the letter of Peter Rabbit, having no idea at the time that this small account of bunny adventures would prove the inception of her authorship and financial independence.

A young Beatrix Potter around age 8, c. 1897

The stunning vistas of England’s famous Lake District never ceased to inspire Beatrix Potter

Nine years, many failed suitors, and seven publishing firms later, Beatrix Potter would find herself the published author of what her own publishers derisively called “the bunny book”. To everyone’s immense surprise, The Tale of Peter Rabbit proved an immediate success and brought Beatrix Potter great acclaim, selling an initial 20,000 copies the first year and requiring six reprints.

The cover of the first edition of Peter Rabbit, 1902

It also brought Potter love and companionship as Norman Warne—the youngest brother of her publishers, Frederick Warne & Co.—became her chief advocate in all business and artistic decisions. After three years of intense companionship, he also became her fiancé. Sadly, her parents highly disapproved of the match, citing the class divide between a gentleman’s daughter like Beatrix and a man in trade like Norman. Hoping a separation might cool the engaged parties’ enthusiasm, the Potters left London for a four-month holiday in Wales and took Beatrix with them. Tragedy struck while she was away, and, with hardly any warning of serious illness beforehand, Norman Warne died leaving Beatrix utterly bereft.

Norman Warne (1868-1905) and his nephew c. 1900

Beatrix Potter on the doorstep of her beloved Hill Top Farm

Hill Top as it appears to visitors today—exactly as she left it, per her will

Grieving, and presuming a future of spinsterly solitude, Beatrix threw herself into her work then, writing and producing more and more bestsellers while plotting an escape from London, its dreaded social scene, urban frenzy and painful associations. Having remained an avid naturalist, Potter chose the idyllic and nostalgic locale of Cumbria, and capitalizing on her new wealth, purchased one of the largest estates then going into disrepair: Hilltop House. This would begin a lifetime pursuit in preservation of her new surroundings and a deep-seated interest in aiding the fast-dwindling communities of old Cumbria. She wrote books still—a total of twenty-eight, as the Lake District never failed her for inspiration—but in later life she took more and more pride in these community pursuits, and enjoyed an election to the presidency of the Sheep Breeder’s Association.

Herdwicks, the local sheep of Cumbria

In 1913 Potter married her neighbor—a lawyer by the name of William Heelis—and together they are credited with the substantial preservation of the indescribably picturesque Lake District as a mostly undisturbed place for us to enjoy. She passed away in 1943 in the midst of a world war, and her obituary was characteristically unassuming, declaring her to be a “beloved children’s author and sheep breeder”. Unmentioned was her legacy of over 200 million copies sold and as many little lives enriched by her shared appreciation of all creatures great and small.

Beatrix with her husband, William Heelis

The Beatrix Potter Gallery in Hawkshead, Cumbria, England

Image Credits: 1 The Rabbit Family (wikipedia.org) 2 Letter, page 1 (wikipedia.org) 3 Letter, page 2 (wikipedia.org) 4 Jemima (wikipedia.org) 5 Family (wikipedia.org) 6 Young Beatrix (wikipedia.org) 7 Lake District (wikipedia.org) 8 First Edition (wikipedia.org) 9 Norman Warne (wikipedia.org) 10 Beatrix at Hilltop (wikipedia.org) 11 Hilltop (wikipedia.org) 12 Herdwick Sheep (wikipedia.org) 13 Beatrix and William Heelis (wikipedia.org) 14 Beatrix Potter Gallery (wikipedia.org)

The Death of Colonel John Laurens,
August 27, 1782

s the American War for Independence drew to a close, with the battle of Yorktown being a decisive victory the previous year, a young luminary of the conflict rose from his deathbed where he was suffering from malaria, saddled his horse, called out his men and gave chase to a straggling British force sighted on the outskirts of his encampment.

John Laurens (1754-1782)

Some historians have speculated with uncanny surety that Lt. Colonel John Laurens sought out a martial death that day, others that his judgement was impaired by fever, while his friends and contemporaries at the time remarked that such ferocious drive was well in keeping with his character. Whichever the case, the death of this now relatively unknown patriot shook the country, and the lamentations that passed back and forth between America’s most distinguished leaders over his fall shed light on the loss of a remarkable young man with a promising future.

Born into one of Charleston, South Carolina’s most affluent Huguenot families, John Laurens grew up with all the advantages of Britain’s colonial peacetime rule: plantation life and prosperous trading funded his comforts and ensured he was given the most thorough of educations. In all things he was equipped by his father—the estimable Henry Laurens—for a life spent as a man of considerable influence.

Mepkin Plantation in Charleston, SC, home of the Laurens family

The remarked-upon partiality his father showed to John Laurens in his youth, if it indeed existed, was understandable considering that John was his first child out of thirteen to survive to maturity, and whose appearance was said to greatly reflect that of his mother, who also died birthing their last child.

Henry Laurens (1724-1792)

Eleanor Ball Laurens (1731-1770)

When the winds of rebellion began to blow in the American colonies, John Laurens was away on the European continent finishing his studies, some of which included the law and military school in Geneva. He was in London overseeing his younger brother’s education when the American Declaration of Independence was read out to an infuriated British crowd. Immediately he wrote to his father for leave to join him in America and lend his aid to the new cause. He was forbidden to do so. The conflict was too fresh and unpredictable and in the estimation of many it would be short lived.

By the spring of 1777 the war was only growing in its fury and, ignoring his father’s letter of forbiddance, John Laurens secured his brother’s safety with English family members, bid farewell to a secret wife of five months and their unborn child, and hitched a ride across the Atlantic on one of his family’s trading vessels—a narrow escape as trade would soon grind to a halt and blockades would become commonplace between the warring countries.

Marriage certificate of John Laurens and Martha Manning, October 26, 1776

Henry Laurens during his tenure as President of the Continental Congress

He arrived in Philadelphia in time to find Washington’s retreating army stationed there, and soon his own father, Henry Laurens, the newly appointed President of the Continental Congress. His father, irate at John’s impulsive presumption in returning home, refused his son a commission, but Providence had it so that John Laurens was sent a letter of invitation by George Washington to serve as his aide-de-camp.

General George Washington (1732-1799)

Laurens was without an officer’s commission, but being almost over qualified in his education, he was almost immediately recognized as one of Washington’s “indispensable men” on the general’s staff. There he met and befriended notables such as a young Alexander Hamilton, whose estimation of Laurens vacillated between envy and admiration, and the Marquis de Lafayette who required Laurens’ patient translation of colonial English into his aristocratic French. These three would often be referred to as “the gay trio” as they were so inseparable, irrepressible and served as the nexus for much of Washington’s martial “family”, as he referred to his own staff officers.

Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette (1757-1834)

Alexander Hamilton (1755-1804)

John Laurens would later learn that his father had actually been behind his good positioning on Washington’s staff, a secretive and loving attempt to try to secure for his son a place of honor and safety in the conflict. Young Laurens, however, had other wishes—a burning desire to be viewed as more than a rich and aristocratic secretary to the General, and pursued with astounding ferocity each opportunity of gaining battlefield merit that presented itself. He fought at Brandywine, where his tenacious bravery earned him this comment by Lafayette in a letter home to his wife:

“It was not his fault that he was not killed or wounded that day, he did everything that was necessary to procure one or t’other.”

The Brandywine Battlefield today

At the battle of Germantown a little over a week later, Laurens was shot through the shoulder at point blank range while trying to set fire to a large stone mansion occupied by British troops. Washington had lost considerable amounts of men trying to breach the place with no success before Laurens decided to put his torch to it. According to the report of a French Chevalier witnessing the scene:

“He rushed up to the door of Chew’s House, which he forced partly open, and fighting with his sword with one hand, with the other he applied to the wood work a flaming brand, and what is very remarkable, retired from under the tremendous fire of the house.”

The attack on Chew’s House during the Battle of Germantown

Two days after this battle, on October 6, 1777, with his arm still in a sling made from his officer’s sash, Washington awarded him an officer’s commission with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel and expectations he would continue his administrative duties.

Laurens endured the deprivations of Valley Forge with the rest of the army and was essential in keeping his father Henry, then President of Congress, directly informed of both the dire straights of the army but also the multitude of inter-army coups enacted against Washington at the time.

Washington’s Headquarters at Valley Forge

During this period he also pursued a childhood interest that had grown into a firm conviction while in the company of English abolitionists—the incorporation of “black battalions” of slaves into the Continental Army in return for their freedom. He repeatedly sent detailed proposals of this to Congress and to his father:

“I have hinted to you, my dearest Father, my desire to augment the Continental Forces from an untried Source….[The raising of black battalions would]…advance those who are unjustly deprived of the Rights of Mankind [and]…reinforce the Defenders of Liberty with a number of gallant soldiers.”

It was a bold crusade to undertake for a South Carolinian officer who stood to inherent one of the largest plantations in the nation. It was primarily considered impossible and ignored, save by Washington who added his weight in admiration for the scheme.

Washington at the Battle of Monmouth

Laurens would go on to fight in the disastrous battle of Monmouth where the infamous General Charles Lee, having already been bought and bribed into treason by the British, left the Continental Army out to dry. Lee was later court-martialed for his conduct that day, a proceeding during which he repeatedly insulted General Washington personally and the cause as a whole. But his greatest abuses were hurled at John Laurens who was the most damning witness against his conduct that day.

General Charles Lee (1732-1782)

In December of the same year Laurens—still smarting under the massacre of the army and Lee’s persecution of Washington—challenged General Lee to a duel, and against all common sense or etiquette in regards to rank, Lee accepted. The duel did not proceed as usual, instead it reflected the personal animosity of the challengers: they never faced away from each other as was customary but instead strode near to each other and fired when within six paces of the other. Laurens came away unhurt and Lee with a side wound. Both being unsatisfied with the outcome, they determined to reload and try again and were in the process of doing so when cooler heads intervened and insisted honor had been satisfied. Lee would later say of the event that he came away with “an odd sort of respect for Laurens.”

A Colonial-era pistol duel of honor

In 1779 South Carolina came under attack and Laurens left the northern campaigns to join in the defense of his native state. On his way to South Carolina, Laurens stopped by Philadelphia to once again petition Congress for support of his plan to enlist slaves into Continental service. With dire circumstances in the south, Congress resolved, “That it be recommended to the states of South Carolina and Georgia, if they shall think the same expedient, to take measures immediately for raising three thousand able-bodied negroes.” This would unfortunately never come to full fruition. Charleston would fall after a lengthy siege and Laurens, with almost 5,500 other American troops, were forced to surrender to the British in May of 1780.

Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) during his time in France

Upon being exchanged after months of captivity, John Laurens was then appointed by Congress to be envoy to the French court. His credentials were simple—he spoke fluent French and was in possession of Washington’s complete confidence. It was hoped his charming ferocity would be a beneficial supplement to Benjamin Franklin’s perceived lackadaisical pursuit of French loans.

Franklin enjoying the society life of Paris

When six weeks in France had elapsed with no results, the restless Laurens called on the French minister of foreign affairs, the Comte de Vergennes. He made plain-spoken demands for money, weapons, uniforms, and ammunition for the American cause. Vergennes replied:

“Colonel Laurens, you are so recently from the Head Quarters of the American Army, that you forget that you are no longer delivering the order of the Commander-in-Chief, but that you are addressing the minister of a monarch.”

Undeterred, Laurens proceeded to pick a fight with and duel a French officer of the court who was in turn so impressed, he obtained Laurens a direct audience with King Louis XVI. At a reception where it was procedure for individuals to be presented to the king to merely bow and pay their brief respects, the bold and gregarious Laurens approached King Louis and haggled a ten million livre loan from him, derived from the Dutch and underwritten by the French.

King Louis XVI of France (1754-1793)

His job well done, he sailed back to America in August 1781 to rejoin Washington’s staff, aboard two ships loaded with money and military supplies. He arrived just in time to participate in the providential victory at Yorktown. There he helped lead the final assault against Redoubt #10 along with Alexander Hamilton and the Marquis de Lafayette. He personally took British commander Lord Cornwallis prisoner, and helped negotiate his exchange for his father, President Henry Laurens, who had been imprisoned in the Tower of London after an unfortunate capture at sea.

Detail of a painting of Cornwallis’ surrender to Washington—L-R: Colonels Alexander Hamilton, Walter Stewart, and John Laurens

Yorktown did not signal the end of the war for John Laurens as it did for many. Instead he went south again, served in his state legislature and joined General Nathanael Greene’s army in driving out the last of the British from the Carolinas.

Major General Nathanael Greene (1742-1786)

As the war came to a close, it seemed Laurens was certain to be one of the predominant leaders of the new nation. His good friend, Alexander Hamilton, who had resigned from the army after Yorktown and was appointed to the Continental Congress in 1782, wrote to Laurens:

“Peace made, My Dear friend, a new scene opens. The object then will be to make our independence a blessing… Quit your sword my friend, put on the toga, come to Congress. We know each others’ sentiments, our views are the same; we have fought side by side to make America free, let us hand in hand struggle to make her happy.”

Alexander Hamilton

Instead, stricken with a sudden and debilitating illness, Laurens still rose on the morning of August 27, 1782, ignored his orders to maintain a defensive position and instead ordered a pursuit of a spotted detachment of British infantry. It proved to be a trap, laid by Carolinian loyalists. Laurens was struck by several musket balls and fell from his horse, mortally wounded, dying shortly after at the age of twenty-seven. His men fled the field but later returned under the orders of General Kosciusko and retrieved Laurens’ body. He was buried the next day at a nearby plantation owned by childhood friends.

Word of his death spread like wildfire, devastating his wartime friends, grieving Generals Washington and Greene who held him in affectionate regard, and even the Royal Gazette published this glowing eulogy:

John Laurens in 1780

“When we contemplate the character of this young gentleman, we have only to lament his great error on his outset in life, in espousing a public cause which was to be sustained by taking up arms against his Sovereign. Setting aside this single deviation from the path of rectitude, we know no one trait of his history which can tarnish his reputation as a man of honor, or affect his character as a gentleman.”

Entrance to Mepkin Plantation, boyhood home and final resting place of John Laurens

Meanwhile, his father remained in London, tragically unaware of this newest loss. He was set to join John Adams and other American representatives in Paris to finish the peace treaty between the two countries. John Adams learned of John Laurens’ death first, and rushed to write the poor father before he learned of it from British newspapers. The resulting correspondence is one of the most tender but resilient examples of condolence imaginable. It reflects beautifully both the character of the fallen and of the men who produced sons of such character that they unflinchingly served their God and their fellow man no matter the personal cost:

“I feel for you, more than I can or ought to express. Our Country has lost its most promising Character, in a manner however, that was worthy of her Cause. I can say nothing more to you, but that you have much greater Reason to Say in this Case, as a Duke of Ormond said of an Earl of Ossory, ‘I would not exchange my son for any living Son in the World.’”

Grave of John Laurens

Image Credits: 1 John Laurens (wikipedia.org) 2 Mepkin Plantation (wikipedia.org) 3 Henry Laurens (wikipedia.org) 4 Eleanor Ball Laurens (wikipedia.org) 5 Marriage Certificate (wikipedia.org) 6 Henry Laurens (wikipedia.org) 7 George Washington (wikipedia.org) 8 Lafayette (wikipedia.org) 9 Alexander Hamilton (wikipedia.org) 10 Brandywine Battlefield (wikipedia.org) 11 Chew’s House, Germantown (wikipedia.org) 12 Valley Forge HQ (wikipedia.org) 13 Battle of Monmouth (wikipedia.org) 14 Charles Lee (wikipedia.org) 15 Duel (wikipedia.org) 16 Benjamin Franklin (wikipedia.org) 17 Franklin in Paris (wikipedia.org) 18 Louis XVI of France (wikipedia.org) 19 Three Colonels (wikipedia.org) 20 Nathanael Greene (wikipedia.org) 21 Hamilton (wikipedia.org) 22 John Laurens (wikipedia.org) 23 Mepkin Entrance (wikipedia.org) 24 John Laurens’ Grave (tripadvisor.org)

“Old Ironsides” Earns Her Moniker,
August 19, 1812

“Hear, O Israel, today you are drawing near for battle against your enemies: let not your heart faint. Do not fear or panic or be in dread of them, for the LORD your God is he who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies, to give you the victory.” —Deuteronomy 20:3-4

n August 19, 1812, an American legend was forged into being when the United States frigate, USS Constitution, met and defeated the British warship Guerriere in the waters of the North Atlantic. The battle occurred two months into the second war that the United States would be forced to wage against Great Britain—now known as the War of 1812. No longer granted the naval aid France had lent the colonies during their Revolution, setbacks and defeats were abounding in the beginning days as the United States stood alone against the full might of Britannia, the reigning monarch of the seas.

An artist’s depiction of the launch of the USS Constitution from Hart’s Shipyard, Boston, MA, October 21, 1797

Despite this disadvantage, America’s first victories in the War of 1812 would in fact happen at sea, whereas her inland campaigns against Canada and her loss of Detroit caused the public morale to plummet almost as soon as the conflict began. One of these maritime victories went down in history as an emblem of the American spirit.

On June 18, 1812, Congress’ declaration of war against Great Britain was read out on deck to the crew of the USS Constitution as it lay at anchor undergoing repairs in Washington Navy Yard. Thereafter, under the command of Connecticut native Captain Isaac Hull, the ship set sail to rejoin the tiny American squadron in the North Atlantic.

After two weeks of daily gun drills in preparation for combat in the blustery seas off Nova Scotia, the Constitution sighted five ships on the horizon that the crew believed to be an American squadron, but ultimately was identified as a powerful British squadron that included the frigates Guerriere and Shannon.

Captain Isaac Hull (1773-1843)

When Constitution blundered within range, the British squadron opened fire. Realizing his crew’s mistake, Constitution’s Captain Hull cleverly pulled out every trick in the book, wetting sails and towing his ship slowly ahead of its pursuers by means of kedging. The ordeal of slipping from the trap of the British squadron took all hands on deck for two grueling days of arduous labor before they successfully escaped.

The USS Constitution escapes the British squadron

Having regrouped and gathered themselves into readiness to now pursue, on August 19, Constitution again sighted the powerful Guerriere while cruising off the Gulf of St. Lawrence. As the ships drew near, Guerriere opened fire on Constitution; however, the round reportedly fell harmless into the ocean after glancing off the ship’s side. Constitution’s wooden frame was rather poetically made from timber sourced all along the American east coast, with her hull being an accumulative twenty-two inches thick and comprised of three layers of oak: white oak on the outside and inside, and live oak wedged in the middle. The oak was resistant to rot and thrived in salt air, and as an additional benefit in maritime warfare, was strong enough to repel in some small degree the onslaught of cannonballs.

Gulf of St. Lawrence, Quebec, Canada

The interior of USS Constitution and her cannon

When Guerriere poured her last hope volley along Constitution’s side at point-blank range, the maddeningly minimal damage inflicted on the American frigate earned her the fond nickname of “Old Ironsides”.

At such close range, with their canons shelling each other’s decks and Marines of both sides in the rigging picking off hapless sailors, all of Guerriere’s masts shattered and fell, causing her to collide with Constitution, snarling with the opposing ship’s rigging. Never ones to find intimate proximity to the enemy anything other than a challenge, the Americans proceeded to board the British frigate right as the British sailors tore down their Union Jack in surrender.

The USS Constitution rams into the HMS Guerriere

After the battle, Captain Hull counted only seven men killed and eight wounded aboard the Constitution, while the British casualties numbered in the dozens. Upon coming home—Guerriere’s charred wreck having been scuttled and Constitution’s belly full of British prisoners—Congress voted Captain Hull a gold medal, as well as $50,000 to share with the crew.

Interior view of the commodore’s forward cabin aboard the USS Constitution

Great Britain, confidant nemesis of Napoleon and uncontested mistress of the seas, was stunned. This victory elevated and cemented the upstart American States to a position of international respect, one that would remain resilient even amidst her upcoming defeats later in the war.

After Constitution’s defeat of Britain at sea, the Times of London wrote:

“It is not merely that an English frigate has been taken after, what we are free to confess, may be called a brave resistance, but that it has been taken by a new enemy, an enemy unaccustomed to such triumphs, and likely to be rendered insolent and confident by them… Never before in the history of the world did an English frigate strike [her colors] to an American.”

Panoramic interior view of the USS Constitution

The Constitution would continue to have a long and renowned career during the War of 1812. In fact, Constitution ran the blockade at Boston seven different times and made five cruises ranging from Halifax, Nova Scotia, south to Guiana, and east to Portugal where it captured, burned, or took as a prize nine merchantmen and five enemy warships. While out at sea on one of these daring excursions, the American crew received word that peace terms had been agreed upon, and the war had ended.

Commemorative ship’s bell aboard the USS Constitution

Over the next century, the USS Constitution continued off and on as an active and commissioned ship of the US Navy, serving to patrol the coast of Africa for slavers and representing American might in the terrorized waters of the Mediterranean until at last she was deemed obsolete and relegated to be used as a training ship in Annapolis.

Constitution undergoing repairs at the Navy yard, Portsmouth, NH, 1858

When she was deemed unseaworthy for a final time after many overhauls, and condemned to be scrapped or used as target practice for other ships, public sentiment stepped in and aided in an entire restoration of the old legend in the year 1905. These efforts were greatly funded by Armenian immigrant, Moses Gulesian, who had come to America penniless at the age of seventeen. He had risen to such success in his business that he was in a position to telegraph the Secretary of the U.S. Navy, on December 12, 1905, after having read in the newspaper of Constitution’s intended fate: “Will give ten thousand dollars for the Constitution (Old Ironsides). Will you sell?”. The Secretary of the Navy informed him he did not have the right to sell the ship, only Congress did.

Moses Gulesian (1855-1951)

Moses Gulesian, center front, copper-works owner, with his staff and their cast of the lion and unicorn for the Old State House, Boston, Massachusetts, 1901

In the end, Gulesian did not buy the USS Constitution; instead, the press got word of Gulesian’s offer, igniting a firestorm of headlines and public outrage over the Navy’s disastrous plan for the iconic frigate. Boston artist Eric Pape organized a petition and within three weeks over 30,000 names of Massachusetts residents were submitted, demanding Congress preserve the ship.

On January 18, 1906, only six weeks after Gulesian’s offer, Congress voted to have the Committee on Naval Affairs determine how much funding was needed to repair the ship. By June, Congress had appropriated $100,000.

Constitution sailing unassisted for the first time in 116 years, July 21, 1997 in celebration of her 200th birthday

In 1916 a group of private supporters organized the “Old Ironsides Association” for the benefit of the ship, and Moses Gulesian was unanimously elected as its first president. Among the board of directors were notables Henry Cabot Lodge and Calvin Coolidge.

The fully-restored Constitution in full sail

After more than a century of diligent maintenance and ongoing restoration, Constitution has now been returned to her home port of Boston, where nearly half a million people visit the ship every year, including those who attend Landmark Events’ tours of Boston and Plymouth. There she remains a proud and noble relic of our country’s sacrifices and of the God of battles who granted America victory a second time over a foreign tyranny.

The USS Constitution Museum in Boston, MA

Below is the famous poem, Old Ironsides, by American poet Oliver Wendall Holmes, Sr., written during one of the first public crusades to have the ship preserved or maintained. In it he pleaded that it were better she go out in a blaze of glory than for her government to dishonorably dismantle so symbolic a vessel:

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
Long has it waved on high,
And many an eye has danced to see
That banner in the sky;
Beneath it rung the battle shout,
And burst the cannon’s roar;—
The meteor of the ocean air
Shall sweep the clouds no more!

Her deck, once red with heroes’ blood
Where knelt the vanquished foe,
When winds were hurrying o’er the flood
And waves were white below,
No more shall feel the victor’s tread,
Or know the conquered knee;—
The harpies of the shore shall pluck
The eagle of the sea!

O, better that her shattered hulk
Should sink beneath the wave;
Her thunders shook the mighty deep,
And there should be her grave;
Nail to the mast her holy flag,
Set every thread-bare sail,
And give her to the god of storms,—
The lightning and the gale!

The USS Constitution under a blanket of snow

Image Credits: 1 1797 Launch (wikipedia.org) 2 Captain Isaac Hull (wikipedia.org) 3 Escaping the British squadron (wikipedia.org) 4 Gulf of St. Lawrence (wikipedia.org) 5 Cannon (wikipedia.org) 6 USS Constitution defeats HMS Guerriere (wikipedia.org) 7 Cabin (wikipedia.org) 8 Panoramic (wikipedia.org) 9 Bell (wikipedia.org) 10 1858 Repairs (wikipedia.org) 11 Moses Gulesian (wikipedia.org) 12 Gulesian Copper and Ironworks (wikipedia.org) 13 200th Birthday (wikipedia.org) 14 Full sail (wikipedia.org) 15 Museum (wikipedia.org) 16 Snowscape (wikipedia.org)

Senator Henry Cabot Lodge Takes a Stand Against the League of Nations, August 12, 1919

n the 12th of August, 1919, esteemed statesman and Senate Majority Leader, Henry Cabot Lodge, rose to his feet on the floor of the Senate to begin his behemoth argument against President Woodrow Wilson’s recent crusade for the United States to join the newly proposed League of Nations.

A New York Times headline from December 15, 1918, updating the public on President Wilson’s Paris reception and pro-League of Nations stance

World War One had just drawn to a bitter close. At the beginning of the year, the “big four” as they became known—consisting of Lloyd George of Britain, Vittorio Emanuele Orlando of Italy, Georges Clemenceau of France, and Woodrow Wilson of the U.S.—had met at the Palace of Versailles, just outside of Paris. There they undertook the task of hammering out peace negotiations with a starved and crippled Germany. They were meant to collaborate on a treaty concerning all European powers and then invite their enemies and the classified aggressors of the conflict to join them.

Council of Four—better known as “The Big Four”—at the WWI Paris Peace Conference, May 27, 1919 (candid photo, L – R): Prime Minister David Lloyd George (Great Britain), Prime Minister Vittorio Emanuele Orlando (Italy), Premier Georges Clemenceau (France), President Woodrow Wilson (USA)

Except, from the very beginning, harmony and consensus could not be reached at Versailles even amongst the allies themselves. Fearing what the presence of German representatives might bring to their discordant effort, the procedural process itself was practically abandoned. An impossibly punitive peace was eventually drafted by the allies and proposed to the German representatives as their only recourse. These representatives were only invited to the negotiating table after having already greatly disarmed and weakened themselves during the mutual armistice declared the previous November—an armistice they now considered a dupe and a trap, but being weakened, they had no leverage to now begin to bargain. There were no negotiations; it was an imposed peace, with an unattainable burden of reparations put in place.

Photograph taken after reaching agreement for the armistice that ended World War I

President Woodrow Wilson in 1919 (1856-1924)

Tiring of the demoralizing infighting and squalid European arguments, America’s President Wilson soon became enchanted with a different aspect of the negotiations, one which appealed to his religiously fervent belief that “it is surely the manifest destiny of the United States to lead in the attempt to make this spirit of democracy prevail [in the old world.]”

Of course, the League of Nations had very little to do with democracy, and was far better classified as a mutual security alliance, one that had been embarked upon repeatedly amongst European nations before World War One. In fact, such outdated and intertwined pledges had been pivotal for plunging much of the world into the conflict, instead of it being contained to a few isolated nations. Indeed, such treaties as that being drafted at Versailles and incorporated into the proposed League were so commonplace that British Cabinet Secretary, Colonel Maurice Hankey, sagely predicted:

Maurice Hankey (1877-1963)

…any such scheme is dangerous to us, because it will create a sense of security which is wholly fictitious…. It will only result in failure and the longer that failure is postponed the more certain it is that this country will have been lulled to sleep. It will put a very strong lever into the hands of the well-meaning idealists who are to be found in almost every government who deprecate expenditure on armaments, and in the course of time it will almost certainly result in this country being caught at a disadvantage.

A drawing published in the French weekly Le Miroir March 16, 1919. Translation: “What we should never see again”, “The League of Nations shall prevent the recurrence of such massacres.” Hopes for peace in March 1919, during the discussions of the Treaty of Versailles to give birth to the League of Nations. (Note: the numbers of deaths per country are those given in 1919 and have since been redesigned).

These were European considerations against the League, ones that most of their representatives at the treaty talks ignored. For President Wilson—present in Paris and exerting the supreme weight of American influence in foreign affairs—it posed its greatest challenge in winning over the Congress and the Senate.

The Signing of Peace in the Hall of Mirrors, Versailles 1919 by William Orpen

The League, as it was first drafted, essentially bound America to deliver on promises of military aid, bypassing the Constitutional requirement for a Congressional declaration of war, and trampling on America’s long-held position of neutrality in transcontinental disputes. Yet all of this was presented, of course, as being surety against any such future wars.

Delegates leaving the palace after signing the Treaty of Versailles, June 28, 1919

When Wilson brought this proposal home, it was met with great outcry. Yet he also had his supporters: the war had both cemented alliances in American politics and permanently changed the general American attitude towards isolationism. In the middle of this clamor, Senator Henry Cabot Lodge rose to make his argument for American sovereignty—a strange thing to have to defend after his country had been victorious.

A triumphant and jubilant Wilson returns home to the US after the Paris Peace Conference, July 8, 1919

Senator Lodge, according to Dr. George Grant:

…utilized carefully measured phrases and appealed to the mood of his audience, unleashing a storm of applause among the packed galleries. A group of Marines, just returned from France, pounded their helmets against the gallery railing: men and women cheered, whistled and waved handkerchiefs and hats. It was minutes before order could be restored, and when a Democratic senator attempted to reply to Lodge’s arguments, his remarks were greeted with boos and hisses.

Henry Cabot Lodge (1850-1924)

A portion of the speech reads thusly:

I object in the strongest possible way to having the United States agree, directly or indirectly, to be controlled by a league which may at any time, and perfectly lawfully and in accordance with the terms of the covenant, be drawn in to deal with internal conflicts in other countries, no matter what those conflicts may be. We should never permit the United States to be involved in any internal conflict in another country, except by the will of her people expressed through the Congress which represents them.

Likewise, he struck a balance when acknowledging the horrors of war while at the same time ringing the bell of patriotism:

In the Great War we were called upon to rescue the civilized world. Did we fail? On the contrary, we succeeded, succeeded largely and nobly, and we did it without any command from any league of nations. When the emergency came, we met it, and we were able to meet it because we had built up on this continent the greatest and most powerful nation in the world, built it up under our own policies, in our own way, and one great element of our strength was the fact that we had held aloof and had not thrust ourselves into European quarrels; that we had no selfish interest to serve. We made great sacrifices. We have done splendid work. I believe that we do not require to be told by foreign nations when we shall do work which freedom and civilization require. We are told that we shall ‘break the heart of the world’ if we do not take this league just as it stands. I fear that the hearts of the vast majority of mankind would beat on strongly and steadily and without any quickening if the league were to perish altogether….

Mass demonstration in front of the Reichstag (German government building) against the Treaty of Versailles, May 15, 1919

The fight did not end there. Wilson lost the midterm elections, and with them control of Congress, including the Senate. Despite this lack of confidence in his piloting of the nation, Wilson had declined the recommendation of sending a bipartisan delegation to deal with the Treaty negotiations, and instead had continued to preside over them himself. Now returned home, Wilson took the League on the campaign trail, traveling 8,000 miles by rail in three weeks, bypassing Congress again and appealing straight to the people.

Woodrow Wilson campaigning by railcar in St. Joseph, MO, 1919

At the end of this arduous endeavor, he suffered a stroke, having already endured one in Paris. Both were kept secret by his physician and associates. Little more than a week later came a third—a massive attack which left his entire left side paralyzed. His physician admitted “he is permanently ill physically, and weakening mentally, and can’t recover.”

The physician refused to pronounce him unfit, the Vice President didn’t press the point, and Wilson’s private secretary, Joseph Tumulty, conspired with Wilson himself and his wife, Edith, to make her President.

Joseph Patrick Tumulty (1879-1954)

Edith Wilson (1872-1961)

She would remain so for seventeen months, sacking and appointing Cabinet member by means of her husband’s forged signature. Had Wilson been declared incapable at this time, all manner of things would have been different.

A weakened and frail Wilson signs a document while his wife Edith holds it steady for him, 1920

As it was, and on the President’s own enfeebled urgings, Senate Democrats refused to support the amended treaty with Lodge’s reservations, and ironically ended up joining forces with the “irreconcilables”—those who opposed the treaty in any form—to defeat it on November 19, 1919. Wilson then submitted the treaty, without Lodge’s reservations, to the Senate a second time in 1920, but that failed to obtain the two-thirds vote needed for approval.

Political cartoon about the absence of the USA from the League of Nations, depicted as the missing keystone of the arch

In the Presidential election of 1920, Wilson’s Democratic Party was severely defeated, and it was considered a repudiation of his European policy in its entirety, as leader of the Socialist Party of America Eugene Debs put it at the time:

No man in public life in American history ever retired so thoroughly discredited, so scathingly rebuked, so overwhelmingly impeached and repudiated as Woodrow Wilson.

Thus Britain and France were left with a League in a shape they did not want, and the man who had thus shaped it was disavowed by his own country. On this day we remember Henry Cabot Lodge and one man’s courage to plead on behalf of the Constitution, to voice the citizens’ convictions with learned precision, and whose proposals were adhered to by all American foreign relations for the rest of the century—in name, at least, if not in spirit.

Henry Cabot Lodge

Image Credits: 1 New York Times (wikipedia.org) 2 “Big Four” (wikipedia.org) 3 Armistice agreement (wikipedia.org) 4 Woodrow Wilson (wikipedia.org) 5 Maurice Hankey (wikipedia.org) 6 French cartoon (wikipedia.org) 7 Hall of Mirrors assembly (wikipedia.org) 8 Delegates departing palace (wikipedia.org) 9 Wilson returning to US (wikipedia.org) 10 Henry Cabot Lodge (wikipedia.org) 11 Reichstag protests (wikipedia.org) 12 Wilson on campaign trail (wikipedia.org) 13 Joseph Patrick Tumulty (wikipedia.org) 14 Edith Wilson (wikipedia.org) 15 President and Mrs. Wilson (wikipedia.org) 16 “The Gap in the Bride” cartoon (wikipedia.org) 17 Henry Cabot Lodge (wikipedia.org)