who posed for the central figure in the painting] An Early Account by J. F. Ryder The conception and purpose of the artist and his adviser cannot be better interpreted than in Mr. Ryder’s own words, written many years ago. “The idea of the artist in painting the picture was to concentrate all the determination and enthusiasm possible in a few figures. No field afforded a better subject than the Revolution, with its determined old heroes and the air of ‘Yankee Doodle’ to rouse them to the highest pitch of enthusiasm. “The three chief figures meet all the requirements of the situation and are in true keeping with the surroundings. Over them lower the clouds of smoke from a battle-field toward which they are marching. Behind them a few brave Continentals struggle up the hill, while by the side of a dismantled cannon lies a wounded soldier who raised himself on his elbow to give a last cheer to the stirring strains of ‘Yankee Doodle.’ The lines have evidently been forced back. The dying soldier and the broken cannon show where the line has stood. The other soldiers have been retreating. But the three musicians advance, and the sound of their music thrills the retreating troops with new courage. Hats are in the air; the flag has turned; the threatened defeat is about to become a victory. The dying man raised himself to cheer. The trio of homespun musicians are discoursing with all their might that music whose shrill melody is so surcharged with patriotism. The old drummer in the centre, bare-headed, grand in his fearlessness, without coat, one sleeve rolled up as though he had turned from the plough to grasp the drumsticks, his white hair blown in the air, his eyes set close and defiant as though he saw the danger and feared it not, the sharp lines about his mouth showing a fixed determination--all combine to make up that wonderful figure in our history which no rags could degrade nor splendor ennoble--the Continental soldier. “On the left of the brave old drummer is the fifer who seems to have come to blow his fife, and he will do it as well here among the flying bullets as in the porch of his cottage. His eyes are fixed toward the sky as though reading the notes of his music on the clouds. Around his brow is a blood-stained handkerchief, which tells of the bullet which grazed yet spared him. His whole energy is poured into the reed at his lips, and one can almost hear the shrill notes of ‘Yankee Doodle’ above the noise of battle. “On the right of the old man marches a boy, hardly in his teens, whose drum keeps time to the beat of the other. His face is upturned to the old man, as though he were his grandfather, as if to question perhaps the route or the danger ahead, but still with a look of rapt inspiration. No shade of fear lurks in his calm eyes, while the ‘rub-a-dub’ of his little drum sounds as clear and distinct as the heavier roll of the aged drummer.