THE SECOND SPOKESMAN AND FOUR VOICES (_Upon the same note._) Appealing to the supreme judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions.... FREEDOM AND FOUR VOICES Do, in the name and authority of the good people of these colonies.... (_Four more Voices._) Solemnly publish and declare.... (_Full Choir crescendo._) That these United States are and of right ought to be free and independent states.... [_The army is assembled and cheers its chief with three mighty huzzas which are part of a triumphant burst of melody. Washington stands immobile and Freedom, likewise, above and behind him. The music dies into mourning. The light dies except upon Washington and the central and most ragged group which, in varied attitudes of weariness, sinks to the ground about him. The light is dismal._] THE CHRONICLER (_Rising and speaking to the audience._) The soul of an event is the vision which God sets before its hero; its life hangs upon the faith men bring to it. The heroes of God’s choosing make Him manifest to man; but the faith of man is a wretched thing. Now this event fares mournfully, for the army of revolt is more cruelly driven by the doubts and jealousies of man than by the winds and snows of winter, and the meaning of Freedom is forgotten in the fact of hardship. Within himself and his great enterprise the chieftain stands steadfast, concerned only with the omen and the pity of the time. [_Men’s voices sing again, weakly. The song is the hymn of Washington’s soldiers which they sang about the campfires of Valley Forge. The soldiers move about, warming their bodies wretchedly at imaginary campfires._] CHORUS Lessons of war from him we take And manly weapons learn to wield; Strong bows of steel with ease we break, Forced by our stronger arms to yield. ’Tis God that still supports our right, His just revenge our foes pursues; ’Tis He, that, with resistless might, Fierce nations to His power subdues. [_Washington, as the chorus dies, moves at last and begins to speak, and his men crouch about his feet as in the dim light of campfires._] WASHINGTON What is to become of the army this winter? We are barefoot and naked. Soldiers are not made of sticks and stones to occupy a cold, bleak hill and sleep under frost and snow without clothes or blankets. Unless some great and capital change takes place, this army must inevitably starve, dissolve or disperse. From my soul I pity these miseries which it is not in my power to relieve or prevent. [_The light fades except upon Washington and Freedom._] FREEDOM I have cried out your name to the broad heavens, I have given your courage to the stars to shout. Be of good cheer, my leader, The strong and the young have heard and will give answer, The day is not yet lost. [_Washington looks hopefully into her beautiful, pitiful face as she bends over him. The light leaves them and the Chronicler rises._] THE CHRONICLER