Through the Perilous Fight Page 44

  The transformation of the American flag into the preeminent symbol of American identity and ideals had begun with Francis Scott Key’s song. The flag had not been a major national symbol before the War of 1812. It served a more functional role during and after the American Revolution, marking U.S. military installations, while other symbols, including the eagle and Lady Liberty, represented national identity. Key’s description of the American flag flying over Fort McHenry after the tremendous British bombardment created an indelible image for the nation. It would be followed over the years by flags raised during other defining moments in American history: “Old Glory,” the flag flown over Nashville, Tennessee, after it was taken by Union troops during the Civil War; the flag raised by U.S. Marines during the battle on Iwo Jima; and the flags displayed by firefighters at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon after the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001.

  The rise of “The Star-Spangled Banner” to become America’s national anthem was similarly gradual. In the years after the war, the song became a standard at patriotic gatherings, including Independence Day and Washington’s Birthday, and was especially popular around Washington and Baltimore. It was often called a national anthem, though there was no sense until decades later that the country needed a single anthem. “The Star-Spangled Banner” was one of several songs that served informally as a national anthem, along with “Hail Columbia” and “Yankee Doodle,” and until the Civil War, it probably ranked behind the other two.

  But with the war, Key’s anthem “rushed to the front of our national songs,” wrote anthem scholar Oscar Sonneck. “Yankee Doodle” seemed too frivolous and “Hail Columbia” too dull, while the lyrics of “The Star-Spangled Banner” resonated at a time when the American flag was under attack at Fort Sumter. Federal armies embraced the song, playing it as they entered Savannah, Richmond, and New Orleans.

  Beginning in 1889, the U.S. Navy and the U.S. Army gave “The Star-Spangled Banner” a more formal status as a national anthem through a series of orders directing that it be played at the ceremonial raising and lowering of the flag. In 1903, the navy ordered sailors to stand at attention during its playing, and the army quickly followed suit. Civilians soon adopted the custom at theaters and baseball games. As the nation entered World War I, the army and navy designated “The Star-Spangled Banner” as the national anthem to be played at ceremonies.

  But the song still lacked the imperator of Congress. The first bill to designate the song as the national anthem was introduced in 1912, but legislation languished for almost two decades, in part because of persistent opposition from people who disliked the song.

  A common complaint was that the song glorified war. It was ironic, given that Key hated the war with a passion that he himself noted could have been labeled “treason” in the divided and partisan America of 1814. Others objected that “Anacreon’s” English origins somehow made the song un-American. (Sonneck gave this reply in 1914: “We took the air and we kept it. Transplanted on American soil, it thrived.”) Prohibitionists and some religious leaders seized on the “drinking song” label as proof of the tune’s unsavory origins; the doughty Augusta Stetson took out ads in national newspapers denouncing it as a “barroom ballad composed by a foreigner.” And some said the song was simply too hard to sing—“words that nobody can remember to a tune that nobody can sing,” the New York Herald Tribune complained. “America the Beautiful” was proposed by many as a lovely and inoffensive anthem easy for all to sing.

  Nonetheless, Representative J. Charles Linthicum of Maryland doggedly pushed for the song by his state’s native son, and a bill designating “The Star-Spangled Banner” as the national anthem was finally passed by the House and Senate and signed into law by President Herbert Hoover on March 3, 1931.

  Critics have never stopped demanding a new national anthem, often dredging up the same complaints. One writer summed them up succinctly in 1965: “Our National Anthem is about as patriotic as ‘The Stein Song,’ as singable as Die Walkure, and as American as ‘God Save the Queen.’ ”

  The song “bristles with a blood-and-thunder spirit we neither feel nor want,” a Washington Post music critic wrote in 1977. The song’s lyrics are “empty bravado,” and “mindless nonsense about rockets and bombs,” syndicated columnist Michael Kinsley informed readers in 2009.

  Among those who felt differently about “The Star-Spangled Banner” was the great American composer and bandleader John Philip Sousa, who considered it a “soul-stirring song” that made for “a very satisfactory anthem.”

  “The only possible chance that we might have a new National anthem would be when the eyes of all Americans are directed toward some particular cause and another genius captures the spirit of the moment in a thrilling song of patriotism,” Sousa wrote late in his life. “Until that time I do not believe the veneration for Francis Scott Key’s anthem will ever be displaced.”

  As director of the U.S. Marine Band from 1880 to 1892, before “The Star-Spangled Banner’s” official designation, Sousa recalled, he was encouraged to enter a contest to establish a national anthem. He did so, but halfheartedly, and was not disappointed at losing, nor surprised that the winning song disappeared without a trace.

  “Nations will seldom obtain good national anthems by offering prizes for them,” Sousa observed. “The man and the occasion must meet.”

  UNITED STATES CAPITOL, WASHINGTON, MONDAY, JULY 4, 1831

  The American flag waved from the dome of the U.S. Capitol, and inside, the Rotunda echoed with the “heroic” airs of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” played as a prelude by the United States Marine Band for the large crowd of Jacksonian Democrats gathered to celebrate Independence Day, 1831. The copper-covered wooden dome—not the one familiar to later generations—had been built atop a new center section, giving the Capitol a finished look it had lacked in 1814, when a wooden gangway had connected the north and south wings.

  All shops in the city had closed, and the day was marked by the “universal suspension of all labors but those of the culinary kind,” the Intelligencer reported. At noon, Mayor John P. Van Ness called the audience to order for the reading of the Declaration of Independence. Then he introduced the orator of the day: Francis Scott Key. It had been seventeen years since Key had written “The Star-Spangled Banner,” but at age fifty-two, the slender and energetic lawyer seemed at the prime of his life. Not yet U.S. attorney for the District of Columbia, he had many personal and public tribulations ahead of him.

  Key took the podium, surrounded by paintings on the Rotunda walls depicting great moments in American history: the presentation of the Declaration of Independence to the Continental Congress; the surrender of the British at Yorktown; George Washington resigning his commission. Key’s gift for words was well-known, and expectations for the occasion ran high. His speech on July 4, 1831, resonated with a power and grace he had perhaps only surpassed with the four verses he wrote in Baltimore. “Mr. Key’s oration was eloquent, and seemed to have been inspired by the grand memorials with which he was surrounded,” commented the Richmond Enquirer.

  Fifty-five years had passed since the Declaration of Independence, Key noted, and all but one of the signers, Charles Carroll of Maryland, had died. The Founding Fathers were slipping away. No one in Washington yet knew it, but James Monroe had died that day in New York City, the third consecutive president to die on the Fourth of July, following John Adams and Monroe’s great friend and mentor, Thomas Jefferson, who had each passed away on Independence Day 1826.

  We are here, in the rich possession of what valor has won, and wisdom has preserved for us.

  Key spoke loudly, in clear and precise language, but his voice reverberated through the Rotunda, making it difficult for some to hear. Others, depending on where they sat, could understand every word, and listened intently as Key described the dangers facing the United States in 1831. In the South, especially South Carolina, there was a growing clamor for nullification—the demand that states b
e given the right to disallow federal laws they did not like. The threat to the union was clear, and Key asked the question on the minds of many: There are … loud complaints of oppression in some of our states. But do they portend a dissolution of our Union?

  The Constitution, Key said, would surely remedy unjustness in America, and in the end, he predicted, the union would hold. The tree of liberty may be shaken by these blasts, but its roots are in all our hearts, and it will stand.

  The greatest danger lay in apathy. We who inherit freedom may learn to value it less than the men who won it.

  Nearing the end of his speech, Key described the stakes for the nation. He reframed the question he had asked on the perilous night so many years earlier, when the fate of the country was very uncertain. Would the American experiment of government by the people survive? It was a question every future generation of Americans would bear the responsibility to answer.

  My countrymen, we hold a rich deposit in trust for ourselves and for all our brethren of mankind. It is the fire of liberty. If it becomes extinguished, our darkened land will cast a mournful shadow over the nations. If it lives, its blaze will enlighten and gladden the whole earth.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  MY JOURNEY INTO the War of 1812 in the Chesapeake brought me in touch with many friends, old and new, as well as family members. These encounters, on both sides of the ocean, made this exploration of history a joy for me, and were of infinite help in writing this book.

  Early in my research, I crossed paths with John McCavitt, an Irish scholar preparing a biography of Robert Ross. John encouraged me to visit Northern Ireland to examine the general’s papers. Along with his wife, Siobhann, and sons, Mark and Niall, John welcomed me to his home in Rostrevor, and he graciously shared his knowledge. In turn, over the course of several visits by the McCavitts to the Washington area, we explored a number of 1812 sites by land and water.

  I was also very fortunate early on to encounter Ralph Eshelman, one of the leading scholars of the war in the Chesapeake, who generously shared his unmatched knowledge during numerous tours across Maryland, greatly improved the book by his careful reading of the draft, and in the process became a friend. Ralph, John, and our families came together for a memorable War of 1812 Potomac River boat cruise during which, among other accomplishments, we avoided sinking.

  Joe Balkoski, a scholar of the Maryland National Guard and a friend since our days traipsing over the battlefields of Normandy for a Washington Post story, pointed me to holdings at Maryland Military Museum, and gave the manuscript a valuable read. Ron Jensen, old friend and good journalist, went through the draft with a red pen.

  Thanks to Bill Pencek, Kate Marks, and the Maryland War of 1812 Bicentennial Commission, which sponsored a series of informative, on-the-ground and on-the-water conferences about the war in the Chesapeake that took us from the site of the British invasion in Benedict on the Patuxent River to the upper reaches of the bay at Havre de Grace. I am also grateful to Burt Kummerow and the staff at the Maryland Historical Society, a tremendous repository of documents, books, and artifacts related to the war.

  Special thanks are due to the historians at the Naval History and Heritage Command at the Washington Navy Yard, who have produced the Naval War of 1812 documentary histories, an invaluable resource for scholars. Christine Hughes, Charles Brodine, and Michael Crawford very kindly gave me access to their historical files and offered guidance in my research.

  A number of veterans of scholarship into the War of 1812 in the Chesapeake—a very welcoming community—generously shared their deep knowledge, among them Don Shomette, Scott Sheads, Vince Vaise, Chris George, David Hildebrand, and Patrick O’Neill.

  I am also indebted to previous work done in this area by generations of writers and historians, among them John Williams, William Marine, Neil Swanson, Anthony Pitch, Joesph Whitehorne, and most especially Walter Lord.

  Deep thanks also to White House curator Bill Allman, U.S. Capitol historian Bill Allen, Mark Dimunation at the Library of Congress, and Ed Marolda at the Washington Navy Yard, for the tours they provided and knowledge they shared of their respective institutions.

  Many other librarians and researchers, from regimental history offices in Scotland to local historical societies in Virginia, Maryland, and the District of Columbia, aided my research, and I am grateful to them all. Thanks also to the captain and crew of the Coast Guard cutter James Rankin for allowing me to see Fort McHenry from the vantage point Francis Scott Key might have had, and to the captain and crew of the Coast Guard tallship Eagle for taking me along on a Norfolk-to-Baltimore journey that allowed me to see much of the water route taken by the British during their invasion.

  Thanks to old friends Dennis Sheehan, who put me up in his flat during my research in London and accompanied me on a quest on a foggy Sunday to find Admiral Cockburn’s final resting spot at Kensal Greens, and to John Simonson and family, for hosting me during a visit to Oxford.

  I am indebted to The Washington Post, including company president Don Graham, publisher Katharine Weymouth, and many other colleagues, for their support of this project. Bobbye Pratt, an indefatigable researcher, tracked down several hard-to-find documents. Gene Thorp, a superb Post cartographer and a student of history, made the excellent maps.

  At Random House, it was a pleasure to team up again with Will Murphy, my editor for The Pentagon, and many others who helped with the book, including Ben Steinberg, Jennifer Rodriguez, Tom Pitoniak, Carole Lowenstein, Katie Donelan, and Mika Kasuga. Also thanks to my agent, Rafe Sagalyn, and his assistants Shannon O’Neill and Lauren Clark, who believed in this project and helped every step of the way.

  Special thanks to my uncle, John B. Fiery, a great student of early American history, who embraced my project and brought me on a memorable and informative tour of James Madison’s Montpelier and James Monroe’s Ash Lawn–Highland. Jock, my aunt Diann, and the Fiery family were a great source of encouragement. My mother, Joan Vogel, was once again an enthusiastic supporter, as were my siblings, Stuart, Peter, and Jenny, and our dear family friends Ben and Perky Pepper.

  Most of all, I thank my wife, Tiffany, and our children, Donald, Charlotte, and Thomas, for their love, support, and good cheer during the many long hours of work that took me away from my family. Tiffany picked up that burden, even while managing to edit the manuscript, for which I will always be grateful. She also put up with our family’s many 1812 expeditions in recent years. From joining in an archaeological excavation in search of Joshua Barney’s position at Bladensburg, to Defenders Day visits to Baltimore, to exploring Tangier Island on a golf cart, we have memories that will last a lifetime.

  NOTES

  All dates are 1814, unless otherwise noted. References for one or more paragraphs are often grouped in a single note. The order of the citations in each note generally corresponds to the information or quotation referenced. The following abbreviations are used in the endnotes and bibliography:

  ADM—Admiralty Records, National Archives of the United Kingdom

  AOC—Architect of the Capitol

  ASP—American State Papers

  CCW—Capture of the City of Washington, American State Papers

  CMS—George Cockburn Memoir of Service, National Maritime Museum

  CRG—The War of 1812 in the Chesapeake: A Reference Guide

  DMDE—Dolley Madison Digital Edition, University of Virginia Press

  GWU—Gelman Library, Special Collections, George Washington University

  HSF—Historical Society of Frederick

  HSP—Historical Society of Pennsylvania

  NWR—Niles’ Weekly Register

  LOC—Library of Congress

  MdHS—Maryland Historical Society

  MdHM—Maryland Historical Magazine

  NARA—National Archives and Records Administration

  NAUK—National Archives of the United Kingdom

  NHHC—Naval History and Heritage Command, Naval War of 1812 papers

/>   NI—National Intelligencer

  NLS—National Library of Scotland

  NMM—National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, England

  NW II—The Naval War of 1812: A Documentary History, vol. 2

  NW III—The Naval War of 1812: A Documentary History, vol. 3

  PRONI—Public Records Office of Northern Ireland

  RCHS—Records of the Columbia Historical Society

  RG—record group

  RMM—Royal Marine Museum, Portsmouth, England

  RNM—Royal Navy Museum, Portsmouth, England

  UM—William L. Clements Library, University of Michigan

  USJ—The United Service Journal and Naval and Military Magazine

  UVa—Papers of James Madison, Alderman Library, University of Virginia

  WO—War Office records, National Archives of the United Kingdom

  WP—Washington Post

  PRELUDE: I See Nothing Left

  Sailing under a white flag New York Evening Post, Aug. 15; Journal kept during the years 1813–1814 by Lieut. Beynon, Royal Marines, serving on board HMS Menelaus on the American Station during the War of 1812, Western Reserve Historical Society, Cleveland, transcript of original courtesy of NHHC (hereafter Beynon journal), 127.

  The Great Bandit Ralph Eshelman and Burt Kummerow, In Full Glory Reflected, 28; Walter Lord, The Dawn’s Early Light, 52.

  “[T]here breathes not” William M. Marine, The British Invasion of Maryland 1812–1815, 23.

  man in person Oswald Tilghman, History of Talbot County, 407

  prisoner of war agent Anthony G. Dietz, “The Use of Cartel Vessels during the War of 1812,” American Neptune, July 1968, 193.

  burned the Maryland plantation Ralph E. Eshelman, Scott S. Sheads, and Donald R. Hickey, The War of 1812 in the Chesapeake: A Reference Guide to Historic Sites in Maryland, Virginia, and the District of Columbia, 178 (hereafter CRG); author visit Jefferson-Patterson Park & Museum, St. Leonard, Md., Sept. 19, 2009.