by Roy Adkins
In the midst of the hardships of war, Scott came across an unexpected sight inside the White House: ‘We found the cloth laid for the expected victorious generals, and all the appliances and means to form a feast worthy the resolute champions of republican freedom. A large store of super-excellent Madeira and other costly wines stood cooling in ice in one corner of the spacious dining-room . . . Fagged nearly to death, dusty, feverish, and thirsty, in my extremity I absolutely blessed them for their erring providence. Never was nectar more grateful to the palates of the gods, than the crystal goblet of Madeira and water I quaffed at Mr. Madison’s expense.’51
Not only did he share in the presidential feast that had been confidently prepared for the expected American victors, but Scott also took a shirt belonging to Madison: ‘The beautiful apartments were hastily visited; passing through the President’s dressing-room, (which from its disordered state, opened drawers, and half-filled portmanteaus, must have been abandoned in the midst of packing up,) the snowy clean linen tempted me to take the liberty of making a very fair exchange; I accordingly doffed my inner garment, and thrust my unworthy person into a shirt belonging to no less a personage than the chief magistrate of the United States: the operation equalled in luxury and benefit the draught in the banqueting-room.’52
A portrait of the First Lady, Dolley Madison, who had packed up and saved many of the contents of the White House, was still in place and noticed by Scott: ‘On the walls hung a small portrait of the President’s lady . . .The Treasury was next visited, but the specie had been safely conveyed away. The building was fired before the discovery of a strong iron door, that resisted all the efforts made to break it open. It was presumed to be the stronghold and deposit of all the valuables. The window was forced in, and the first officer who descended into the apartment, gave information that it contained several weighty boxes.’53
There was much criticism of the burning of Washington, and Gleig blamed Cockburn: ‘To destroy the flotilla [Barney’s gunboats] was the sole object of the disembarkation; and but for the instigations of Admiral Cockburn, who accompanied the army, the capital of America would probably have escaped its visitation. It was he, who, on the retreat of that flotilla from Nottingham, urged the necessity of a pursuit, which was not agreed to without some wavering; and it was he also who suggested the attack upon Washington, and finally prevailed on General Ross to venture so far from the shipping.’54 In his official dispatch Ross actually gave
Map of Chesapeake Bay
thanks ‘to Rear Admiral Cockburn, who suggested the attack upon Washington’.55 It was often said that the burning of Washington was in retaliation for the burning the year before of York (now Toronto), the capital of Upper Canada, but when writing to his wife before the attack, Codrington said that they had been ordered to retaliate for the latest American excesses: ‘By letting his [Madison’s] generals in Canada burn villages again . . . he has led Sir George [Prevost] on one side, and Sir Alexander Cochrane on the other, to direct the severest retaliation in all parts till he remunerates the Canadians for their losses.’56
Lieutenant Gleig understood the need to destroy shipping and weapons, but lamented that ‘it did not stop here; a noble library, several printing-offices, and all the national archives were likewise committed to the flames, which, though no doubt the property of Government, might better have been spared’.57 Captain Harry Smith was also critical of the arson attacks: ‘Admiral Cockburn would have burnt the whole [of the city], but Ross would only consent to the burning of the public buildings. I had no objection to burn arsenals, dockyards, frigates building, stores, barracks, etc., but . . . we were horrified at the order to burn the elegant Houses of Parliament and the President’s house. In the latter . . . I shall never forget the destructive majesty of the flames as the torches were applied to beds, curtains, etc. Our sailors were artists at the work.’58
They left the White House burning, and Scott related that the office of the anti-British newspaper the National Intelligencer was next pointed out to Cockburn:Its fate was decreed, and a few minutes would have seen it a prey to the devouring element - when a party of ladies, inhabitants of the adjoining houses, came forward to meet the Admiral (whom they only knew as a superior officer) to entreat that he would spare the building, as its destruction would endanger their property. The order was immediately countermanded; but a lieutenant and a party of blue jackets volunteered to pull the house down, and in less than two hours it was razed to the ground. The reams of paper, files of gazettes foreign and domestic, and all the inflammable materials, had been previously conveyed some distance in the rear, and a bonfire made of them . . . The demolition was effected by removing the window-frames, and then passing a stout rope round that part of the walls which separated the windows from each other; ‘a long pull, and strong pull, and a pull altogether,’ dragged them forward, and the whole superincumbent weight came tumbling down, and presented a mass of ruins in the time I have described.59
The women, very grateful that their homes had been saved from destruction, were bewitched by the charm of Cockburn, as Scott described:The success of the fair petitioners emboldened others to advance, and in a few minutes the Admiral was surrounded by a host of lovely women . . .The kind affable manner in which he calmed their fears, his lively conversation and gentlemanly demeanour, soon won upon their better feelings, and insensibly chased away from their minds foes, captured city, defeat, and disgrace. The singular reunion of the victors and the families of the vanquished, took place in the Pennsylvania avenue, close to the scene, and while the destruction of the Intelligencer office was going on. It was only dissolved by one of the ladies inviting the Admiral to enter her dwelling and partake of the refreshments prepared for him; he accepted the welcome offer, and, courteously wishing the fair strangers good night, begged that they would retire to their pillows in confidence and peace.60
As Cockburn had been long reviled in the American press as a terrifying figure, Scott was obviously much amused by what occurred next:
I was about to follow my chief, but my steps were arrested by a gently urged request that I would favour them with the name of the delightful officer who had just quitted them. ‘Why, that is the vile monster Cock—burn,’ was my reply. A half-uttered shriek of terror escaped from the lips of some of them, as the dreaded name tingled on their ears. The announcement was electrifying. My plighted word had at last convinced them of the stounding fact that they had absolutely stood in the presence of, and amicably conversed with, that most venomous of all ‘British sarpents,’ and for whose head a reward of one thousand dollars had been publicly offered. Such was the state of American prejudice at that period.61
As Cockburn is pronounced ‘Coburn’ in Britain, Scott added a note that ‘the Americans always pronounced the name as two long distinct syllables’ .62
Almost like divine intervention, Scott recorded that Washington was struck by severe weather the following day:About noon [on the 25th] one of the severest squalls, or more properly speaking tornadoes, which I ever witnessed, passed over Washington; trees were uprooted, plantations destroyed, and houses blown down, the conflict of winds setting at nought the industry and power of man. The tiles flew about in showers over our heads; it was found impossible to stem the whirlwind; and all those who were exposed to its fury were obliged to lie flat on the ground, as the sole means of resisting the effects of the tremendous blast. An officer on horseback turning the corner of a street encountered the hurricane, and both man and horse were dashed to the pavement in an instant. It was of brief duration, or the devastation to Washington would have proved of far greater magnitude than the mischief committed by the English.63
By this time Napier and Gordon had forced their way up the Potomac and captured Fort Washington and its supporting batteries. They reached Alexandria on the 28th, and the town surrendered. The Americans had earlier scuttled shipping, but the British ordered the vessels to be salvaged as prizes. At the beginning of September they began to
sail back down the Potomac with their twenty-one prizes complete with cargoes, despite fierce firing from batteries that had been hastily erected to intercept their return journey. Napier recorded that ‘this expedition lasted twenty-three days. The hammocks were only down twice—each ship was ashore [grounded] at least twenty times; but nothing could exceed the patience and good conduct of the ships’ companies; and though every encouragement was held out by the inhabitants of Alexandria to induce the men to desert, there were only four or five out of the whole squadron who remained behind. The total loss was seven killed, thirty-five wounded.’64
Codrington thought their exploits were outstanding, as he told his wife: ‘They overcame difficulties which would have dismayed many men in either of the two professions; and they have brought out twenty-one prizes, many of which they weighed, caulked, and masted, as well as loaded; and then forced their way through the most difficult shoal navigation, in spite of batteries erected to stop them, and a vast number of troops firing down on their decks in the narrow parts. The frigates were even obliged to take their guns out on account of getting aground, and put them in again. In short, it is nothing less brilliant than the capture of Washington.’65
The troops in Washington left the city after three days. Many American prisoners were given parole, including Captain Barney, while the care of the wounded British prisoners was entrusted to the Americans. A rumour was deliberately spread that the next targets were Annapolis and Baltimore, and so the Americans hurried to reinforce those places, enabling the British troops to return safely to the boats, which they did at night, although they kept fires burning to deceive the Americans into thinking they were still encamped nearby. As they passed the site of the Battle of Bladensburg, the moon rose, and Gleig was horrified by the scene: ‘The dead were still unburied, and lay about in every direction, completely naked. They had been stripped even of their shirts, and having been exposed in this state to the violent rain in the morning, they appeared to be bleached to a most unnatural degree of whiteness. The heat and rain together, had likewise affected them in a different manner; and the smell which arose upon the night air, was horrible.’66
They reached Benedict without serious incident, where the boats were waiting. ‘We found the shore covered with sailors from the different ships of war,’ commented Gleig, ‘who welcomed our arrival with loud cheers; and having contrived to bring up a larger flotilla than had been employed in the disembarkation, they removed us within a few hours, and without the occurrence of any accident, to our respective vessels.’67 Once embarked, Major-General Ross appointed Harry Smith to take dispatches back to England, but before leaving Smith asked Ross if he was going to attack Baltimore. He himself felt it would be a bad decision, as the men were suffering from dysentery and because Baltimore had been reinforced. Ross was emphatic - they would not attack Baltimore.
‘The Iphigenia frigate, Captain King,’ Smith noted, ‘was to take me home, and Captain Wainwright of the Tonnant was to be the bearer of the naval dispatches . . . The day we were to sail in the Iphigenia . . . kind-hearted General Ross, whom I loved as a brother, accompanied me to the gangway. His most sensible and amiable wife was at Bath. I promised to go there the moment I had delivered my dispatches.’68 Having been in the Peninsular War and then sent straight to the war in America, Smith had not been in England for seven years and was desperate to be reunited with his Spanish wife, if she was still alive. The journey back to England was rapid: ‘The Iphigenia had a most extraordinary passage from the Chesapeake to our anchorage at Spithead. We were only twenty-one days. The kindness I received from Captain King I shall never forget.’69
At Portsmouth he and Wainwright travelled together by coach from the George Inn. ‘I do not know what he considered himself,’ Smith admitted, ‘but I was of opinion that, as the bearer of dispatches to Government, I was one of the greatest men in England . . . Oh! the delight of that journey. I made the boys drive a furiously good pace. D—— me, if I had rather be beating off a leeshore in a gale, tide against me!’70 After so many years of war Smith could not believe what he was seeing: ‘The very hedgerows, the houses, the farms, the cattle, the healthy population; no naked slaves, no burned villages, no starving, wretched inhabitants, no trace of damnable and accursed war!’71 The news they had brought caused great excitement, and Joseph Farington jotted in his diary for 27 September: ‘The Park & Tower guns were fired today in consequence of the arrival of Dispatches from America with an account of victory over the Americans & the capture of the town of Washington.’72 After Smith had delivered the dispatches and was reunited with his wife, they both set off for Bath, where ‘we found poor Mrs. Ross in the highest of spirits at the achievement of our arms under her husband. Poor thing! at that very moment of her excessive happiness he was in a soldier’s bloody grave.’73
TWENTY
STAR-SPANGLED BANNER
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 watch’d, were so gallantly streaming?
And the Rockets’ 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?
First verse of ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’
In the evening of 12 September 1814 Codrington wrote to his wife: ‘The work of destruction is now about to begin, and there will probably be many broken heads to-night. The army with as many seamen and marines as could possibly be spared, were landed this morning, and are now on their march to the town of Baltimore, distant about fifteen miles by land, and twelve by water.’1 The original plan, he told her, had been to sail immediately to Halifax in Canada, but Major-General Ross and Rear-Admiral Cockburn had persuaded Rear-Admiral Cochrane that they should first capture Baltimore, to the north-east of Washington on the Patapsco River. Codrington, though, had warned Ross that they did not have sufficient information about Baltimore: ‘I was surprised that so sensible a man as General Ross should be led away by the opposite opinions,’2 he remarked sadly.
Many of those around him thought that Ross was a weak leader, and Codrington agreed: ‘I pointed out to him all the difficulties I saw in this attack, into which he was persuaded by Cockburn and a Mr. Evans62, who acts as quarter-master general in this army.’3 Cochrane, in his report to the Admiralty, blamed the moon for the change of plan: ‘The approaching equinoctial new moon rendering it unsafe to proceed immediately out of the Chesapeake with the combined expedition, to act upon the plans which had been concerted previous to the departure of the Iphigenia, Major-General Ross and myself resolved to occupy the intermediate time to advantage, by making a demonstration upon the city of Baltimore.’4
After finally leaving the Patuxent and Potomac, Midshipman Barrett of the frigate Hebrus related thatthe fleet . . . once more reached the Chesapeake, and with a fine breeze, steered under all sail in the direction of Baltimore. As we ascended the bay, alarm guns were fired in all directions; thus testifying the terror which the inhabitants of the surrounding country felt at the approach of the British arms. Whilst thus standing to our place of destination, we had received the greater portion of the 44th Regiment—one part of whom were seated on our booms amidships, and the rest towing in our boats astern. As we passed the picturesque town of Annapolis (which is situate on the left side of the bay from the sea), we could plainly perceive the inhabitants flying in all directions. This was a mournful picture of the times, and should never be forgotten by America when some ruthless politician or party would again wish to plunge their country into war.5
By dusk on the 11th they anchored close to North Point, and Gleig commented: ‘It was determined to land here, rather than to ascend the river, because the Patapsco, though broad, is far from deep. It is
, in fact, too shallow to admit a line of battle ship.’6 Midshipman Barrett later wrote that ‘the approach by land to Baltimore from this position is through a woody peninsula, that varies in width from a few hundred yards to two or three miles; and the length of which may be estimated to be four or five leagues. One side of this narrow neck of land is washed by the Back River, whilst the other forms the shore of the Patapsco, and leads directly to the harbour of Baltimore.’7 That night the men slept fully dressed, to be ready at a moment’s notice, and Gleig was struck by the experience:There was something in this state of preparation at once solemn and exciting . . . We lay at this time within two miles of the shore . . . Around us weremoored numerous ships, which, breaking the tide as it flowed gently onwards, produced a ceaseless murmur like the gushing of a mountain stream. The voices of the sentinels, too, as they relieved one another on the decks; and the occasional splash of oars, as a solitary boat rowed backwards and forwards to the admiral’s ship for orders, sounded peculiarly musical in the perfect stillness of a calm night. Though I am far from giving the preference, in all respects, to a sailor’s life, it must, nevertheless, be confessed that it has in it many moments of exquisite delight; and the present seemed to me to be of the number.8
The troops under Major-General Ross, accompanied by Cockburn and several seamen, were landed very early the next morning, and the smaller ships then moved further up the river. Although Codrington thought that the attack should be postponed, he believed their enthusiasm would nevertheless ensure success: ‘The bomb-vessels, brigs, and frigates are all pushing up the river with an eagerness which must annoy the enemy, I presume, as much as it delights me. Three frigates are aground abreast of us, hauling themselves over the banks into deep water by main strength, each trying to surpass the other.’9 They spent all day getting within range of Baltimore, as Midshipman Barrett explained:Thus parting from our gallant comrades, we proceeded, without delay, under all sail, in company with the frigates, sloops, and bombs, &c., to take up a position where we might be enabled to attack the sea defences of Baltimore. Leaving the line-of-battle ships, which, on account of their size, could not proceed any further than North Point, our frigates sailed through the mud for miles . . . Our boats were ahead sounding: I was in our launch, with the stream and kedge anchors, and cables coiled in her ready to heave the ship off if necessary; and willing to do all in my power, we measured off a line of spun-yarn, marked with three, four, and five fathoms, attached it to a marline-spike, and commenced the sailors favourite chant as well as the rest— ‘And a—half—three! By the mark—three!’ Notwithstanding all these precautions, we frequently grounded on the numerous shoals which abound in this channel; when I was constantly at work with laying out our stream and kedge anchors, to warp us off from the difficulty we encountered, until I was literally covered with mud from head to foot in the process. As there were only two or three pilots distributed through the fleet, and their knowledge of the navigation being confined to vessels of a smaller draught, most of our ships were guided in the passage solely by the lead. As we proceeded up the river, doubtless the Americans were struck with panic and amazement, for although they built frigates at this port, yet they always sailed down the river, flying light, as far as Annapolis, where, I was informed, they completed for sea, by taking in their guns, provisions, and water.10
