Fleeing before this same hurricane, Mrs. Madison approached the tavern designated by the President as the place where he would meet her, but was refused admittance by the terrified women within, who had also fled thither, because she was the wife of the man who had involved them in those horrors of war, made still more terrible by the visitation of G.o.d. He, in thus turning day into night, had evinced his displeasure, and foretold his judgments; and not until an entrance was forced by the men, would they allow her a shelter from the storm.

There her husband, the fugitive President of the republic, drenched with rain, hungry and exhausted, joined her in the evening. Provided with nothing but a cold lunch, he retired to his miserable couch, not knowing what tidings the morning would bring him.

In the mean time General Ross, chagrined at the part he had been compelled to play--filled with self-reproaches at the wanton destruction of a public library, was anxious and unquiet at the non-arrival of the boats that had accompanied him to Alexandria. In constant fear of an uprising of the people of the country, he was eager to get back to the ships. As soon therefore as night set in, he resolved to commence his retreat. To prevent pursuit, an order was issued prohibiting the appearance of a single inhabitant in the street after eight o'clock. At nine, in dead silence, and with quick step, as though stealing on a sleeping foe, the advance column took up its march and pa.s.sed unnoticed out of the city. The camp fires on the hill of the capitol were kept blazing, and piled with fuel sufficient to preserve them bright till near morning, in order to convey the impression that the army was still there, and at a late hour the rear column followed after, and silently and rapidly traversed the road to Bladensburg. Not a word was spoken, not a man allowed to step out of his place. Arriving on the ground which had been occupied by other brigades, they found it deserted, but the fires were still blazing as though the encampment had not been broken up. Approaching the field of Bladensburg, they saw in the white moonbeams the whiter corpses of the unburied dead, who had been stripped of their clothing and now lay scattered around on the green slope and banks of the stream where they had fallen. The hot August rain and sun had already begun to act on the mutilated flesh, and a horrible stench loaded the midnight air.

Stopping there for an hour, to enable the soldiers to hunt up their knapsacks thrown aside the day before, Ross again hurried them forward, and kept them at the top of their speed all night. If the column paused for a moment, the road was instantly filled with soldiers fast asleep. Men were constantly straggling away, or falling into slumbers, from which even the sword could with difficulty p.r.i.c.k them, and the army threatened to be disorganized. It therefore became necessary to halt, and the order to do so had scarcely pa.s.sed down the line before every man was sound asleep, and the entire army in five minutes resembled a heap of dead bodies on a field of battle. Resting here under the burning sun until midday, Ross then resumed his march and reached Marlborough at night, and the next day proceeded leisurely back to the ships.

The raid had been successful--Washington was sacked. Two millions of property had been destroyed--the capitol, with its library--the President's house--the Treasury and War, Post offices, and other public edifices, burned to the ground, together with five private dwellings, thirteen more being pillaged. These, with the destruction of the office of the National Intelligencer, two rope-walks, and a bridge over the Potomac, const.i.tuted the achievements of this redoubtable army of invasion.

The English press, which had teemed with accounts of Napoleon's barbarity, and the English heart, which had heaved with n.o.ble indignation against the man who could rob the galleries of conquered provinces to adorn those of Paris, had no word of condemnation or expression of anger for this wanton outrage, but on the contrary, laudations innumerable. Napoleon had marched into almost every capital of Europe without destroying a library or work of art, or firing a dwelling. With his victorious armies he had entered city after city, and yet no Vandalism marred his conquest. The palaces of kings, who had perjured themselves again and again to secure his downfall, had never been touched, and yet he was denounced as a robber and proclaimed to the world a modern Attila. But an English army, warring against a nation that spoke the same language, and was descended from the same ancestors, could enter a city that had made no defence--had not exasperated the conquerors by forcing them to a long siege or desperate a.s.sault, and, without provocation, burn down a public library, the unoffending capitol and presidential mansion, state offices, and even private dwellings. Incredible as this act appears, the greater marvel is how the English nation could exult over it. An American victory tarnished by such barbarity and meanness, would overwhelm the authors of it in eternal disgrace. And yet, a popular so-called historian of England, in narrating this transaction, says it was "one of the most brilliant expeditions ever carried into execution by any nation." An army of some four thousand regulars put to flight five or six thousand raw militia, and, with the loss of a few hundred men, marched into a small unfortified town, occupied as the capital of the United States, and like a band of robbers, set fire to the public Library, a.r.s.enal, Treasury, War office, President's house, two rope-walks and a bridge; and such an affair the historian of Lodi, Marengo, Austerlitz, and Waterloo,--of the terrible conflicts of the peninsular, and the sublime sea-fights of Aboukir and Trafalgar, calls "one of the most brilliant expeditions carried into execution by any nation."

"Ille crucem, scelenis pretium tulit, hic diadema."

The news was received in England with the liveliest demonstrations of joy. The Lord Mayor of London ordered the Park and Tower guns to be fired at noon, in honor of a victory, which he pompously declared was "worth an illumination." The official account was translated into French, German and Italian, and scattered over the continent. Mr. Clay and Mr. Russell were in the theatre at Brussels when the news arrived.

The secretary of the legation, Mr. Hughes, had overheard an English officer in the lobby saying--"We have taken and burned the Yankee capital, and thrown those rebels back half a century"--and going to their box told them there were reasons why they should leave the theatre, which he would disclose at their hotel. He had observed some of the British legation present, and the announcement of such tidings would be embarra.s.sing to the American emba.s.sy. They were exceedingly annoyed by the news, especially next morning, when the English emba.s.sadors sent them a paper giving an account of the act; and they returned, mortified, to Ghent. It was received on the continent, however, with marked disapprobation. Even a Bourbon paper, in Paris, declared that notwithstanding the atrocities charged on Napoleon, he had never committed an act so degrading to civilized warfare as this.

The vessels designed to cooperate with the movement on Washington, reached Alexandria the same evening the British army left the former place, and after levying a contribution on the inhabitants, seizing twenty-one merchant vessels, sixteen thousand barrels of flour, a thousand hogsheads of tobacco, and whatever else was valuable, departed. In their descent, they were hara.s.sed by Porter and Perry from the sh.o.r.e, but the guns of the latter were too light to effect much damage. Commodore Rodgers also hovered with fire ships around their flight, but it was too rapid to allow the concentration of a sufficient force to arrest them.

Armstrong, the Secretary of War, following the example of President, Cabinet, Generals and army, galloped away from the disastrous field of Bladensburg, and took refuge in a farm-house. The fugitive President and the fugitive Secretary at length met, and returned together to Washington. The entrance of the latter to the capital was the signal for the indignant outburst of the entire population. The militia officers of the District refused to obey his orders in the future, and a committee of the citizens waited on the President, demanding his dismissal from the post of Secretary of War. It was suddenly discovered that he was wholly to blame for the conduct of the troops at Bladensburg. Borne away by the popular current, which he was thankful was not directed against himself, Madison requested Armstrong to retire for awhile to Baltimore. [Sidenote: Sept. 3.] The latter obeyed, but immediately sent in his resignation, in which he paid the President the compliment of having, as he declared, shamefully yielded to the "humors of a village mob." Monroe, Secretary of State, was appointed to discharge his duties, and a proclamation was issued calling an early meeting of Congress.

The British government never committed a greater blunder than when it sanctioned the sack and burning of Washington. Estimating its importance by that which the capitals of Europe held in their respective kingdoms, her misguided statesmen supposed its overthrow would paralyze the nation and humble the government into submission.

But there was scarcely a seaport on our coast, whose destruction would not have been a greater public calamity. Besides, the greater its value in the eyes of the people, the more egregious the mistake.

Judging us by the effeminate races of India, or the ignorant population of central Europe, who are accustomed to be governed by blows, they imagined the heavier the scourging, the more prostrated by fear, and more eager for peace we should become. But resistance and boldness rise with us in exact proportion to the indignities offered and injuries inflicted. With a country, whose vital part is no where fixed, but consisting in the unity of the people, can shift with changing fortunes from the sea-coast even to the Rocky Mountains, its heart can never be reached by the combined forces of the world. This republic can never die but by its own hand. In a foreign war, our strength can be weakened only by sowing dissensions. Outrages which inflame the national heart, or local sufferings that awaken national sympathy serve only to heal all these, and hence render us impregnable. Thus, when Mr. Alison, in closing up his account of this war and speaking of the probabilities of another, advises the sudden precipitation of vast armies on our sh.o.r.e as the only way to insure success, he exhibits a lamentable ignorance of our character. An outrage or calamity at the outset, sufficiently great to break down party opposition, and drown all personal and political contests in one shout for vengeance, rolling from limit to limit of our vast possessions, would endow us with resistless energy and strength. The attacks on Baltimore and New Orleans teach an instructive lesson on this point. In the latter place, where a veteran army of nine thousand men were repulsed by scarcely one-third of its force, now an army of two hundred thousand would make no impression.

The sack of Washington furnishes a striking ill.u.s.tration of the effect of a great public calamity on this nation. One feeling of wrath and cry for vengeance swept the land. A high national impulse hushed the bickerings and frightened into silence the quarrels of factions, and the President and his Cabinet never gained strength so fast as when the capitol was in flames, and they were fleeing through the storm and darkness, weighed down with sorrow and despondency.

At the same time this expedition against Washington was moving to its termination, Sir Peter Parker ascended the Chesapeake to Rockhall, from whence he sent out detachments in various quarters, burning dwellings, grain, stacks, outhouses, etc. On the 30th, he landed at midnight, to surprise Colonel Reed, encamped in an open plain with a hundred and seventy militia. It was bright moonlight, and as the column advanced it was received with a steady and well-directed fire.

At length the ammunition failing, this brave band was compelled to fall back. The enemy at the same time retreated, carrying with them Sir Peter Parker, mortally wounded with buck shot.

On the return of these several expeditions, it was resolved to make a grand and united attack on Baltimore, that nest of privateers. On the 6th of September, the whole fleet, consisting of more than forty sail, moved slowly up the Chesapeake, carrying a mixed, heterogeneous land force of five thousand men. Six days after, it reached the Patapsco, and landed the troops at North Point. The first object of attack was fort M'Henry, situated about two miles from Baltimore. The capture of this, it was thought, would open a pa.s.sage to the city. Having put their forces in marching order, General Ross and Cochrane moved forward towards the intrenchments erected for the defence of Baltimore, while the vessels of war advanced against the fort.

After marching four miles, the leading column of the army was checked by General Stricker, who with three thousand men had taken post near the head of Bear Creek. A sharp skirmish ensued, in which the two companies of Levering and Howard under Major Heath and Captain Aisquith's rifle company, fought gallantly. General Ross, hearing the firing rode forward, and mingled with the skirmishers, to ascertain the cause of it, when he was pierced by the unerring ball of a rifleman, and fell in the road. His riderless horse went plunging back towards the main army, his "saddle and housings stained with blood, carrying the melancholy news of his master's fate to the astonished troops." Stretched by the road side, the dying general lay writhing in the agonies of death. He had only time to speak of his wife and children, before he expired. He was a gallant, skillful and humane officer, and his part in the burning of Washington, must be laid to his instructions rather than to his character.

The command devolved on Colonel Brooke, who gave the orders to advance. General Stricker defended his position firmly, but at length was compelled to fall back on his reserve, and finally took post within half a mile of the intrenchments of the city. This ended the combat for the day. The next morning Colonel Brooke recommenced his march, and advanced to within two miles of the intrenchments, where he encamped till the following morning, to wait the movements of the fleet.

In the mean time, Cochrane had moved up to within two miles and a half of the fort, and forming his vessels in a semi-circle, began to bombard it. These works, under the command of Major Armstead, had no guns sufficiently heavy to reach the vessels, which all that day threw sh.e.l.ls and rockets, making a grand commotion but doing little damage.

At night, Cochrane moved his fleet farther up, and opened again. The scene then became grand and terrific. It was dark and rainy, and amid the gloom, rockets and sh.e.l.ls, weighing, some of them, two hundred and fifty pounds, rose heavenward, followed by a long train of light, and stooping over the fort burst with detonations that shook the sh.o.r.e. Singly, and in groups, these fiery messengers traversed the sky, lighting up the fort and surrounding scenery in a sudden glow, and then with their sullen thunder, sinking all again in darkness. The deafening explosions broke over the American army and the city of Baltimore like heavy thunder-claps, calling forth soldiers and inhabitants to gaze on the illumined sky. The city was in a state of intense excitement. The streets were thronged with the sleepless inhabitants, and the tearful eyes and pallid cheeks of women, attested the anguish and fear that wild night created. As soon as Armstead discovered that the vessels had come within range, he opened his fire with such precision that they were compelled to withdraw again, content with their distant bombardment. At length a sudden and heavy cannonade was heard above the fort, carrying consternation into the city, for the inhabitants believed that it had fallen. It soon ceased, however. Several barges, loaded with troops, had pa.s.sed the fort un.o.bserved, and attempted to land and take it in rear. Pulling to the sh.o.r.e with loud shouts, they were met by a well-directed fire from a battery, and compelled to seek shelter under their ships.

During this tremendous bombardment Francis Key lay in a little vessel under the Admiral's frigate. He had visited him for the purpose of obtaining an exchange of some prisoners of war, especially of one who was a personal friend, and was directed to remain till after the action. During the day his eye had rested eagerly on that low fortification, over which the flag of his country was flying, and he watched with the intensest anxiety the progress of each sh.e.l.l in its flight, rejoicing when it fell short of its aim, and filled with fear as he saw it stooping without exploding, within those silent enclosures. At night, when darkness shut out that object of so much and intense interest, around which every hope and desire of his life seemed to cling, he still stood straining his eyes through the gloom, to catch, if he could, by the light of the blazing sh.e.l.ls, a glimpse of his country's flag, waving proudly in the storm. The early dawn found him still a watcher, and there, to the music of bursting sh.e.l.ls, and the roar of cannon, he composed "The Star-Spangled Banner."[6]

[Footnote 6: The scene and the occasion which called forth this beautiful ode, have helped to make it a national one. It requires but little imagination to conceive the intense and thrilling anxiety with which a true patriot would look for the first gray streak of morning, to see if the flag of his country was still flying, while the heart involuntarily asks the question--

"O, say, can you see by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming-- And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

O, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave, O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On that sh.o.r.e, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses; Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam, In full glory reflected, now shines in the stream?

'Tis the star-spangled banner, O, long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave."]

In the morning, Broke not deeming it prudent to a.s.sail those intrenchments, manned by brave and determined men,[7] while the heights around bristled with artillery, resolved to retreat. Waiting till night to take advantage of the darkness, he retraced his steps to the shipping.

From the extreme apprehensions that had oppressed it, Baltimore pa.s.sed to the most extravagant joy. Beaming faces once more filled the streets, and the military bands, as they marched through, playing triumphant strains, were saluted with shouts. The officers were feted and exultation and confidence filled every bosom.

[Footnote 7: Senator Smith, who had been appointed general, commanded the 10,000 militia who manned the works.]

CHAPTER VII.

Macomb at Plattsburg -- American and English fleets on Lake Champlain -- Advance of Prevost -- Indifference of Governor Chittenden -- Rev. Mr. Wooster -- Macdonough -- The two battles -- Funeral of the officers -- British invasion of Maine -- McArthur's expedition.

The gallant defence of Baltimore was still the theme of every tongue, when tidings from our northern borders swelled the enthusiasm to the highest pitch, and extinguished for a moment the remembrance of the barbarities committed at Washington.

The day before the British landed at North Point and received their first shock in the death of General Ross, the double battle of Plattsburg was fought.

Izard, when he started on his tortoise-like march, to the relief of Brown, left Colonel Macomb in command of three thousand men, not more than half of whom were fit for service. Their defeat he considered certain, and the result would have justified his prognostications, had Macomb, like him, sat down to brood over his troubles and gaze only on the difficulties that beset the army, till his confidence was gone and his energies paralyzed. But he was made of sterner stuff--difficulties only roused and developed him. Were the well men under his command few? then his defences must be the stronger, and the labor of those able to work, the more constant and exhausting.

Calling on New York and Vermont for militia, he toiled night and day at the works, and soon found himself strongly intrenched.

In the mean time, Prevost, at the head of a disciplined army of twelve thousand men, began to advance on Plattsburg. The ulterior design of this invasion of the States has never been disclosed. It is hardly possible that the British General meditated a movement similar to Burgoyne's, hoping to reach Albany. The object may have been to get entire command of Lake Champlain; and, pushing his land forces as far as Ticonderoga, there wait the development of events on the sea-coast, or by conquests along the northern boundary, create a claim to the lakes, to be enforced in the negotiations for peace.

Prevost marched slowly, c.u.mbering the road with his heavy baggage and artillery trains as he advanced, and did not arrive at Plattsburg till the 7th of September.

This town is situated on the Saranac River, a deep and rapid stream, crossed at the time by several bridges. Abandoning that portion of it on the north sh.o.r.e, as untenable, Macomb withdrew his forces to the southern bank. Prevost, after a sharp action with the advance of the American army, was allowed to erect his batteries at his leisure. It took him four days to complete his works, or rather that time elapsed before the arrival of the British fleet.

[Sidenote: Sept. 1.]

In the mean time Macomb had sent an express to Governor Chittenden, of Vermont, telling him that Prevost had commenced his march on Plattsburg, and beseeching him to call out the militia to his aid. But this Federalist Governor, acting on the rebellious doctrine of Ma.s.sachusetts, coldly replied that he had no authority to send militia out of the State. On the 4th, Macomb sent another express saying the army was approaching, that his force was too small to resist it, and begging for a.s.sistance. General Newell, more patriotic than the Governor, offered to take his brigade over to the help of Macomb, but the former would not sanction the movement by his authority, though he advised him to beat up for volunteers. With every feeling of patriotism deadened by the poison of the spirit of faction--every generous sentiment and sympathy apparently extinguished--deaf to the piteous plea rising from a neighboring town, he coldly entrenched himself behind a party dogma, and let the ruin and devastation sweep onward. The cannonading on the 6th, by Majors Appling and Wool, who gallantly attacked the enemy's advance, did not rouse him from his apathy.

One can hardly imagine that the call he issued for volunteers before the battle, and the stirring proclamation he made afterwards under the pressure of popular enthusiasm, emanated from the same person.

The people, however, did not require to be stimulated into patriotism by their executive. As that sullen thunder came booming over the lake, it stirred with fiery ardor the gallant sons of that n.o.ble State, who never yet turned a deaf ear to the calls of their country, and before whose stern and valorous onset the enemy's ranks have never stood unbroken. Spurning the indifference of their Governor, and trampling under foot his const.i.tutional scruples, they flew to their homes, and s.n.a.t.c.hing down their muskets and rifles, and giving a short adieu to their families, rushed to the sh.o.r.e, and soon the lake was covered with boats, urged fiercely forward by strong arms and willing hearts towards the spot where the heavy explosions told that their brave countrymen were struggling in unequal combat. The face of young Macomb lighted with joy as his eye fell on those bold men, and a heavy load was taken from his heart.

Among those who had previously volunteered, was the Rev. Benjamin Wooster, of Fairfield, Vermont. Responding to the call of Governor Tompkins, he put himself at the head of his parishioners and repaired to the American camp, where he endured all the privations of a common soldier. The aged members of his church and the women, when they saw him draw up his little flock on the village green, prior to their departure for the scene of conflict, a.s.sembled in the church and sent for him, saying, "We shall see you no more--come, go to the house of G.o.d and preach us a last sermon, and administer to us the holy sacrament for the last time." But fearing the effect of so touching an interview on his own decisions, he refused. Sending them an affectionate farewell, he embraced his weeping family, kissed his babes, and gently untwining their arms from his neck, turned away. On the day of battle this brave old shepherd led his fearless flock into the fire, with the serenity of a good man doing his duty.

During the summer the English at the northern, and the Americans at the southern portion of the lake, had been busy in building ships to contest the supremacy of this sheet of water, whose head pierces so deep into the bosom of New York. The latter had at length a.s.sembled a flotilla consisting of four vessels--the largest carrying twenty-six guns--and ten galleys, the whole under the command of Macdonough.

After some skirmishing, this little fleet, which early in the season lay in Otter Creek, was got into the lake and steered for Plattsburg Bay, to a.s.sist Macomb in his defence of the town. This bay opens to the southward, and instead of piercing the main land at right angles, runs north, nearly parallel with the lake itself. A narrow tongue of land divides it from the main water, the extreme point of which is called c.u.mberland Head. Just within its mouth, and nearly opposite where the turbulent Saranac empties into it, Macdonough anch.o.r.ed his vessels. [Sidenote: Sept 20.] Between him and the main land was a large shoal and an island which effectually blocked the approach of vessels on that side.

The English fleet sent to attack him, consisted, also, of four vessels--the largest mounting 32 guns--and 13 galleys. The American force, all told, was 14 vessels, mounting 86 guns and carrying 850 men, while that of the English was 17 vessels, mounting 96 guns and carrying 1000 men. The largest, the Confiance, "had the gun deck of a frigate," and by her superior size and strength, and her 30 long twenty-fours, was considered a match for any two vessels in Macdonough's squadron. Captain Downie, who commanded the British fleet, joined his gun boats at the Isle au Motte on the 8th of September, where he lay at anchor till the 11th. In the mean time, Prevost, whose batteries were all erected, remained silent behind his works waiting the arrival of the fleet before he should commence his fire.

During those sleepless nights, and days of agitation, young Macdonough lay calmly watching the approach of his superior foe, while Macomb strained every nerve to complete his defences. Fearless, frank and social, the young General moved among his soldiers with such animation and confidence, that they caught his spirit, and like the Green Mountain boys and yeomanry of New York at Saratoga, resolved to defend their homes to the last.

[Sidenote: Sept. 11.]

At length, on Sunday morning, just as the sun rose over the eastern mountains, the American guard boat, on the watch, was seen rowing swiftly into the harbor. It reported the enemy in sight. The drums immediately beat to quarters, and every vessel was cleared for action.

The preparations being completed, young Macdonough summoned his officers around him, and there, on the deck of the Saratoga, read the prayers of the ritual before entering into battle, and that voice, which soon after rung like a clarion amid the carnage, sent heavenward, in earnest tones, "Stir up thy strength, O Lord, and come and help us, for thou givest not always the battle to the strong, but canst save by many or by few." It was a solemn and thrilling spectacle, and one never before witnessed on a vessel of war cleared for action. A young commander who had the courage thus to brave the derision and sneers which such an act was sure to provoke, would fight his vessel while there was a plank left to stand on. Of the deeds of daring done on that day of great achievements, none evinced so bold and firm a heart as this act of religious worship.