appeared. His nature was one which difficulties only aroused to greater action, and whose courage arose as dangers thickened. Before night on the day of his arrival he had put a different face upon everything, and proved himself to be a born commander of men and fertile in resources. Sickness prostrated officers and men, but the work went forward.

Early in August the fleet was ready for service a very insignificant fleet according to modern ideas. The "Niagara" and the "Lawrence," two large brigs, were the only vessels that could really be called warships; the rest of the fleet consisted of small gunboats, hastily built and poorly adapted for defence. The fleet was manned by a few experienced seamen, but the marines were taken largely from the Kentucky infantry and militia, volunteers who had never before seen a warship or any other kind of vessel. Clad in hunting costume, they ran about the ship like children. But they submitted readily to discipline, and displayed that aptitude for naval service which is characteristic of Americans, the descendants of the five greatest maritime nations of the world. The commander himself had never seen a fleet in action.

The British fleet was manned by crews about equal in number, made up of Canadian sailors and trained men from

the royal navy. Commodore Barclay, the commander, had fought bravely with Nelson at Trafalgar and taken part in many an engagement which had served to make the name of England a terror on the seas. Both officers and men possessed the confidence and self-reliance peculiar to men accustomed to victory.

To meet this formidable enemy, Commodore Perry must first get his fleet out of the harbor which had proved so safe a shelter, but whose very safety was now an obstacle to be overcome. Presque Isle Bay, the harbor of Erie, extends in a northeasterly direction along the shore of the lake. Across the mouth is a sandbar, extending a mile toward the lake, and having from six to ten feet of water over it. Why the enemy did not improve its opportunity and attack the fleet while crossing this bar has never been satisfactorily explained. When Captain Perry, on the 1st of August, was ready to cross the bar, not a sail of the enemy was in sight. Now that the decisive hour had come, and such great interests had to be defended

by such slender means, the great commander felt no fear, but he did feel his dependence upon the God in whom he had always trusted. All the officers were collected on the "Lawrence," and a clergyman from the town conducted religious services and invoked aid from the God of battles for the triumph of a just cause.

On the following morning the crossing began. Seven vessels were over the bar, and the "Niagara " on it, when the English fleet again appeared. They watched the crossing as if their only interest in it was that of spectators.

The two fleets spent a month watching each other. Commodore Barclay was waiting for his flagship, the "Detroit," to come up. At sunrise on the morning of the 10th of September the British squadron was discovered from the masthead of the "Lawrence." The signal "Get under way" was given from the flagship. The order of battle had previously been given to each vessel. "If you lay your enemy close alongside, you cannot be out of your place," was Perry's last injunction. A blue flag bearing in white letters the last words of Lawrence: "Don't give up the ship," floating from the mainmast, was to be the signal for action. As the fleets approached each other Commodore Perry with his crew about him seized this flag and asked, "Shall I hoist it, boys?" "Ay, ay, sir!” came from every throat, and enthusiastic cheers from every vessel in the line as its folds were flung to the breeze.

It was a moment of the wildest excitement. All the sick who could move came on deck and begged to be given some share in the defence of their country. The fleets continued to move toward each other over the smooth water. The day was one of unusual autumn splendor, as if nature had resolved to offer her best to the hosts of brave men who would never see her face again. At last the note of a bugle came over the water from the "Detroit," followed by a hearty British cheer, and the battle began. Through some failure to carry out the plan of battle determined upon, the British fire was concentrated on the flagship "Lawrence." She bore the unequal contest for two hours. By this time, with her rigging shattered, sails in tatters, and spars shot away, it was impossible to control the vessel. Only one gun remained that could be fired. The slaughter was such as had scarcely ever before been known in naval history.

The

vessels had been hastily built, and were so shallow that the wounded were above the water line even on the operating-tables. Only fifteen people were left fit for duty, besides the commander and his little brother. It was evident that if the English were not to win the day some new move must be made, and Commodore Perry made it. He transferred the command of the flagship to one of his officers, stepped into a small boat, and, as he shoved off, said cheerfully, "If a victory is to be gained, I'll gain it."

"Stormed at by shot and shell," the boat reached the "Niagara " in safety. Captain Elliott, the commander, was sent to bring up the small boats in the rear, the course of the "Niagara" was changed, and in a few moments she was sweeping down toward the British fleet. In manoeuvring to meet her, the "Detroit," "Queen," and "Lady Prevost," became entangled, and the "Niagara" passed in such a way as to pour a raking fire of grape and canister into all three; then, turning and taking a favorable position, she continued to pour broadsides into the doomed ships. Soon the fortunes of the day were completely changed. In less than half an hour after Perry had stepped on board the "Niagara," all resistance had ceased on the part of the British fleet, and the battle of Lake Erie was won. Perry's letter to General Harrison: "We have met the enemy and they are ours," has become historic.

Perry received the surrender of the conquered fleet on board the blood-stained deck of the "Lawrence." At the gangway stood all of the crew that were uninjured and able to be mustered; about the deck lay the dead body of many a brave man who had given his life for his country, while from below could plainly be heard the groans of the wounded. Around the "Lawrence" lay the shattered vessels of the enemy, with their burden of slaughtered and mutilated men. When AngloSaxon meets Anglo-Saxon there are no bloodless victories. Scott, the historian of the West Indies, says:

"In the field, or grappling in mortal combat on the blood-slippery quarter deck of an enemy's vessel, a British soldier is the bravest of the brave. No soldier or sailor of any other country, saving and excepting those damned Yankees, can stand against them.»

A fearful price had been paid for the victory, but to the United States it was worth all that it had cost. The plan of

the British to separate the United States from the West was hopelessly crushed; Michigan was free from the presence of the British troops and the horrors of the tomahawk and scalping-knife of their savage allies. England has hardly ever met with so crushing a defeat. From that day she has shown a wholesome respect for her smart young daughter who set up housekeeping without her consent.

The government and people of the United States lost no time in expressing their appreciation of the victory on Lake Erie. Congress passed resolutions thanking the officers, marines, and sailors. Gold medals were presented to the officers highest in command, Perry and Elliott.

Captain Perry's journey toward home was a triumphal procession. He was everywhere received as the hero of the hour. Even British reports asserted that the battle of Lake Erie was won by the courage and obstinacy of one man, and that man was Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry. Illuminations, parades, and imposing receptions met him everywhere. Albany presented him with the freedom of the city, enclosed in a golden box, together with a handsome sword. At balls given in his honor the fairest ladies of the land vied with each other in showing him reverence, though he was never made the victim of a kissing mania. At a banquet in Boston this prophetic toast was given: «The American Navy, youngest child of Neptune, but heir of eternal glory!" Even the common seamen who had served under Perry were included in the general enthusiasm and honor given their gallant commander.

Upon so bright a picture it seems unfortunate that the dark shadows of jealousy and bitterness should fall. Just how the report originated that Captain Elliott had purposely disobeyed the signals for close action and kept his vessel out of danger until Commodore Perry took command will never be known. It is only known that very soon after the battle it was common talk in the army and all over the country that this officer, whose previous record had been spotless, had, either from motives of cowardice or jealousy, not only allowed his commander to sustain unaided the brunt of the battle, but had almost brought about defeat and disgrace by failure to do his duty.

Naturally these reports were not long in reaching the person most concerned.

Captain Elliott wrote his commanding officer, almost demanding that he should make a public statement of the services of himself and crew. Perry replied:

It

"I am indignant that any such report should be in circulation prejudicial to your character in respect to the action of the 10th instant. affords me pleasure that I have it in my power to assure you that the conduct of yourself, officers, and crew was such as to meet my warmest admiration, and I consider the circumstances of your volunteering to bring the smaller vessels into close action as contributing largely to our victory.»

Here the matter would probably have ended if officious friends on both sides had not pursued the usual course of friends at such times and repeated the remarks made or supposed to have been made by the other. A bitter quarrel sprang up between the two officers, which increased in bitterness as the years passed until finally it raged as furiously as the battle itself. Elliott finally challenged Perry, and Perry preferred charges against Elliott. His kind heart, so Perry confessed, had led him into the folly of condoning the offence of his second officer and to speak of him more highly than was really consistent with truth. He had been unwilling that the enemy should know that an officer so high in command had failed to do his duty. In the language of an English admiral, "he had thought it better to screen a coward than to let the enemy know there was one in the fleet." He had also lately learned new facts in the case. The President saw fit to take no action in the matter, and the scandal gradually died out for a time. Elliott remained unpopular as a man and an officer, while Perry continued to be the national idol.

In 1834 Elliott gave mortal offence to the Whig party, and the old scandal was revived. Captain Elliott valiantly defended himself, but Commodore Perry could utter no protest, for he had long slept in a foreign grave. About the same time James Fenimore Cooper published his "History of the United States Navy." Nothing was said in this work to detract from the honor due Commodore Perry, and undue credit was not given to Captain Elliott. But the account was too impartial to satisfy either side and brought only a storm of abuse upon the head of the unfortunate author from the friends of both parties.

In 1841 Alexander Slidell Mackenzie

published a life of Commodore Perry at the request of his eldest son. That the sympathies of the author are entirely with the character whose life he attempts to portray is evident on every page. The immediate popularity of the work proved that the author had expressed the feeling of the larger part of the country. And yet, put in its most unfavorable light, the candid reader must confess that there was nothing in the conduct of Captain Elliott at the battle of Lake Erie which might not be easily explained without considering him guilty of either shameful cowardice or a most atrocious crime.

More than three quarters of a century after the battle of Lake Erie was fought another still more brilliant victory was won by the navy of the United States over a foreign foe. The nation had outgrown its infancy and was now in the full strength of a vigorous manhood. There were no vessels hastily built from the green timber of the forests, but perfectly equipped battle-ships, commanded by officers whose bravery and training challenged the admiration of the world, and manned by such sailors and marines as no other nation could boast.

The foe to be faced was a Power before which the world had once trembled. From their little mountain nest in a corner of Europe the courage and pride of the Spaniards had built up an empire which placed them among the masters of the world. Their soldiers were feared as invincible, their navy was the terror of the seas. A blind, cruel, intolerant religious policy that crushed all who resisted it, and a national vanity which worshipped the glory won by arms and despised the arts and industries of peace, had long since sapped the foundations of her strength and robbed her of her place among the nations of the earth; but her arrogance had not diminished.

Her vast American possessions, once the brightest jewels placed in her crown by her illustrious sons, had long been slipping from her cruel grasp, but she had learned neither wisdom nor humility. With her eyes turned upon the glories of the past, she failed to keep step with the progress of ideas in the nineteenth century, and lost all touch with the intellectual advance of the world. She still imagined herself the Spain of the sixteenth century, and "put on airs" accordingly.

Never since the Great Armada, sent against Elizabeth, scattered its mighty galleons on the coasts of Scotland and Ireland, had Spain received so thorough an awakening as was given her in Santiago Bay, July 3, 1898, by the navy of a people whom she had stigmatized as a nation without a history. Never was history more rapidly made than on that memorable Sunday morning which began so peacefully. In two hours' time, with the loss of one man, the American squadron had made a burning wreck of Cervera's boasted fleet. "American Pigs," the courteous Spaniard had called the people who had dared to question his right to murder helpless women and children. The courage and humanity displayed in rescuing the wounded, the kindness and consideration shown to all the vanquished enemy, clearly proved to the world how little of the pig, but how much of all that is noble in manhood, characterizes both officers and men of the American navy. In so perfect a victory there were certainly honors enough for all. But whatever else had changed, human nature was the same in 1898 as in 1813, and a like dispute as to which of the two officers highest in command should receive the lion's share of honors was soon agitating the country.

"The New York' was not in Santiago Bay when the battle began; all credit belongs to Admiral Schley," said one party. "Admiral Sampson had planned so perfectly to avoid surprise, to meet every emergency that might arise, and had so thoroughly drilled his fleet, that the glory of the brilliant victory belongs to him," declared the other. The dispute has waxed and waned through the year since the war closed; now entirely forgotten, and again demanding a hearing by virtue of some new cause for bitterness. Between the principal parties concerned only the most cordial feeling seems to exist. "The victory seems big enough for all of us," said Admiral Schley. That each man engaged in the battle gave his best service to his country, that not one flinched in the storm of shot and shell, are facts that no one can dispute. Then let no politicians or partisan friends sully the splendor of such heroic achievement by involving all the actors in a vulgar quarrel which it is doubtful can ever be satisfactorily settled. Rather let the toast, "The American Navy, youngest child of Neptune, but heir of eternal glory," be echoed by every lover of his country.

GRAND RAPIDS, MICH.

SARAH B. Smith.

L

ATELY

an English translation of a French work on the causes of AngloSaxon superiority, from the pen of M. Camille Desmoulins, attracted much favorable notice. The author, though an ardent and patriotic Frenchman, frankly recognizes the decadence of France and Latin countries generally, and seeks to account for it. The vigor and vitality of the Anglo-Saxons naturally suggest comparison and contrast. M. Desmoulins reaches the conclusion that paternalism, centralization, state interference with activities that ought to be free, and, in a word, "socialism," must be regarded as the principal causes of French decline and retrogression, while in healthy individualism, in personal freedom and invigorating struggle and competition must be found the true explanation of AngloSaxon progress, potency, and supremacy.

History certainly bears out this theory, and in contemporary experience we easily

discover additional support and proof of it. The utter and miserable failure of French and Italian and Spanish colonialism, for example, is indisputably due to the policy of oppressive interference with local government, while the remarkable success of British imperialism is just as plainly attributable to proper respect for the rights and liberties of the colonies, to the willingness to heed the just demands of the dependencies for autonomy and freedom.

But, if this is true (and as important as true), what shall we think and say concerning the new departure of AngloSaxon nations, the drift toward the very paternalism and State socialism which have been the bane and curse of France? Can we go on, heedless of the profound reaction manifested in so many ways all around us, claiming a supremacy which is in danger of being compromised and forfeited? The fact is that Anglo-Saxon

countries have been abandoning their cherished principles and traditions, and adopting, step by step, the system which is fatal to human advancement and political soundness. Socialism has been gaining ground, making alarming inroads, in Greater Britain as well as in the United States. Not only in practice, but also in theoretical teaching, not only among politicians and legislators, but also among economists, moralists, and sociologists, is socialism supplanting that individualism which, from habit doubtless, we still speak of as distinctive of the Anglo-Saxon race. Can the new tendencies be checked and arrested? Is there a sufficiently strong disposition to combat and resist them?

It cannot be said that we have had no warnings, no protests and remonstrances, from men of insight and foresight. Several years ago Sir William Vernon Harcourt, ex-Liberal leader, declared in the British House of Commons, "We are all socialists now," and no one ventured to gainsay him. He was defending a piece of legislation which had been assailed as socialistic, and he poohhe pooh poohed the notion that that term was necessarily condemnatory. If Sir William was right then, how much more applicable is his remark to the present state of political affairs!

The great philosopher and champion of individualism, Herbert Spencer, had at an earlier stage directed attention to "the coming slavery," to the steady growth of socialism in British politics and legislation. He pointed out that the new liberalism was really synonymous with socialism, and that the old toryism had become transformed into a species of onesided individualism. His voice at the time proved one crying in the wilderness, and in the last decade the signs and symptoms he noted have multiplied and grown more distinct and significant. The great historian, Lecky, in his work on "Democracy and Liberty," published less than three years ago, arraigned popular government for its encroachments upon individual liberty and the rights of property. He showed that democracy was becoming as despotic and meddlesome as the governments it had supplanted. If fresh evidence of the justice of this indictment is wanted, it is at hand in the legislation and legislative programmes of the last few years.

Let us review these briefly.

Turning to Great Britain first, we find that "social legislation" is the order of the day. Measures which twenty-five years ago would have been scornfully and contemptuously dismissed as Utopian and impossible are calmly prepared and passed by the party which still professes to stand for conservatism and "things as they are." The Liberals are trying to outdo their Conservative opponents in the direction of socialistic legislation, and a state of things has been reached where, according to the London "Spectator," ་ progress" in British political parlance means semi-socialism or collectivism. The great parties are appropriating the ideas of the Social Democrats and the Fabians and stealing their thunder. What is the most prominent, the most "inspiring" issue in English politics to-day? Universal old-age pensions. The Salisbury government, as represented in the House of Commons by Mr. A. J. Balfour and Mr. Chamberlain, is pledged to a comprehensive pension bill, and the spokesmen of the Liberal party are exhorting it to entice the people by offering them a more sweeping pension system. Several proposals are under discussion, but the simplest and - from a popular standpoint the most satisfactory is the plan advocated by Mr. Charles Booth, the able investigator of pauperism and poverty. He boldly proposes to pension every man and woman at the age of sixty-five, irrespective of moral qualifications or economic tests of any kind. At a minimum pension of five shillings a week, this scheme of “old-age pensions for everybody" would require over $125,000,ooo a year, but the objection on the score of cost is felt to be weaker and less important than any objection raised against the more complex and partial schemes. This plan will not be adopted at one stroke; but the British parties are too deeply committed to abandon the subject entirely, and some pension system may be expected in the immediate future. The first step will compel others, and in the end a universal scheme will be the only political way out of the difficulty.

Recently the House of Commons passed a permissive bill for the encouragement of home-ownership by municipal and other local authorities. Poor men desirous of acquiring homes are to be assisted to do so out of municipal funds, no inter