“No, sir,” exclaimed the latter, doffing his cocked hat, “I cannot receive the sword of a man who has so bravely defended his ship; but,” he added, smiling graciously, “I will receive your hand.”
As an honored guest, Decatur led the vanquished to his cabin, where refreshments, to quote from another account of the affair, “were set out and partaken of in a friendly spirit by the two commanders.”
Contrary to the opinion formed by the first inspection, Decatur found his prize capable of being refitted, and he determined to bring her to an American port. The United States was speedily repaired. In charge of Lieutenant Allen, who had made a jury-rigging for the Macedonian turning her for the nonce into a bark, captor and captive set sail for the United States. On the 4th of December his prize entered the harbor of Newport, and it was upon this occasion that the old song was written from which the stanza at the head of this article is taken.
Nothing could be more dramatic than the way the victory was announced at Washington. Midshipman Hamilton, who was in the engagement with Decatur, and served with signal bravery, was sent with the captured flag of the Macedonian to present it to his father, Paul Hamilton, then Secretary of the Navy. He arrived in Washington on the evening of the 8th of December. A ball was in progress, and the Secretary of the Navy was present. The room was filled with beautiful women, with men in all the color and glory of gold lace, epaulets, and side-arms, when Hamilton entered. He carried the flag of the Macedonian wrapped about his shoulders. Instantly he was surrounded. The silk-stockinged dandies caught him up on their shoulders, and it is even on record that, strange to the customs of the times, dignity for once was cast aside, and a cheer rang through the ballroom. In the possession of the author is a letter (hitherto unpublished) written by Mrs. B. H. Latrobe, grandmother of the ex-Mayor of Baltimore, to Mrs. Juliana Miller. It gives such a graphic picture of the times that an extract from it cannot fail of interest. The letter is dated Washington, December 14th, and reads thus:
“The dulness of the city has, however, been removed in some degree by a splendid entertainment on board the frigate Constellation.” We were invited to be there at eleven, to pass the day. The vessel lay about half a mile from the shore, and two very elegant barges of twelve oars conveyed the company. This was the only unpleasant part of the amusement, for the day proved extremely cold, and a high wind was blowing. However, we all arrived safe about twelve, and the deck was closed in with flags, awnings, etc., and two stoves so effectually heated it as to make the temperature delightful. The dancing soon commenced, and continued till three, when the boatswain’s whistle called us to a magnificent dinner below. The President and Mrs. Madison were seated at the end of a very long table; but I cannot tell you all the company, and can only say that the number was said to be five hundred. After dinner the dancing commenced again, and continued till about six in the evening, when the company broke up. On Tuesday a very splendid ball was given to the navy officers Hull, Morris, Stewart, etc. My husband could not be absent, as he holds an office in the Navy Department, and I was not sorry we went, as it is not likely I shall ever witness such another scene. At about five in the evening my husband came home, and informed me that we must immediately illuminate our house, as the account of a victory gained by Commodore Decatur had just arrived. My house in ten minutes was prepared for lighting up, and we prepared for the ball. The Avenue was very brilliant on our way to the Capitol Hill, and, the company assembling, the crowd was immense. Mrs. Madison was there, but not the President. The evening went on, with crowding as usual upon the toes and trains of those that did not dance, when, about ten o’clock, a loud huzza announced the arrival of young Archibald Hamilton, who had that moment appeared with the colors of the Macedonian. He was borne into the room by many officers. Good little Mrs. Hamilton, his mother, stood by me, and was so much agitated at the sight of her son that she must have fallen had I not stepped forward and offered her my arm. The young man sprang into her arms, his sisters threw their arms around him, and the scene was quite affecting. The colors were then held up by several gentlemen over the heads of Hull, Morris, and Stewart, and ‘Hail, Columbia!’ played, and there were huzzas until my head swayed.
“The aforesaid colors were then laid at the feet of Mrs. Madison. O tempora! O mores! This was rather overdoing the affair. I forgot to say that the flag of the Guerrière was festooned on one side of the room, and of some other vessel. Now, between ourselves, I think it wrong to exult so outrageously over our enemies. We may have reason to laugh on the other side of our mouths some of these days; and as the English are so much stronger than we are with their navy, there are ten chances to one that we are beaten. Therefore it is best to act moderately when we take a vessel, and I could not look at those colors with pleasure, the taking of which had made so many widows and orphans. In the fulness of my feelings, I exclaimed to a gentleman who stood near me, ‘Good heavens! I would not touch that color for a thousand dollars!’ He walked quickly away, I hearing another gentleman say, ‘Is it possible, Mrs. Latrobe?’ I looked around, and it was a good stanch Federalist from Rhode Island, Mr. Hunter, so that I shall escape hanging after so treasonable a speech.”
Perhaps the circumstances were a valid excuse for the cheering; but this letter is a strange side light on some of the feeling of the times.
All through the country Decatur became the hero of the hour. With a record for intrepidity and gallantry behind him, gained by his actions during the war with Tripoli, handsome and young, he became the idol of the public. Congress, by a unanimous vote, gave him a gold medal. The legislatures of Massachusetts, New York, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Virginia gave him thanks. The city of New York gave him the freedom of the city and a magnificent sword, and tendered to his crew a banquet at the City Hotel. Four hundred seamen sat down at the long tables, and the memory of that feast of rejoicing was long kept green in the service. As a picture of the day, a short account, taken from a contemporaneous history, The War, of the banquet given to Commodores Hull, Jones, and Decatur is of interest. The entertainment was given on the day after the freedom of the city was presented to Captain Hull. He and Decatur were present; Jones was absent. At five o’clock about five hundred guests sat down at the tables, De Witt Clinton, the mayor, presiding. “The room had the appearance of a marine palace,” said an eye-witness. It was colonnaded around with masts of ships entwined with laurels, and having the national flags of the world. Every table had a ship in miniature with the American flag displayed. On the wall was a mainsail of a ship, and when the third toast, “Our Navy,” was given, with three cheers, this sail was furled, revealing “an immense transparent painting of the three naval engagements in which Hull, Jones, and Decatur were respectively engaged.” Too great to be spoiled, Decatur still remained the quiet, simple hero, before whose eyes were spelled two words—Country and Duty; the one he lived to serve, the other to fulfil. And, alas! he died a victim to that curious, strained sense of honor that kept men demanding explanations, and led them to shoot one another under God’s sky, surrounded by their friends, in a duel to the death. He was killed by Commodore Barron at Bladensburg, Maryland, on March 22d, 1820. Commodore Bainbridge was Decatur’s second, and he, with others, had made many ineffectual attempts to avert the unfortunate meeting.
V
THE “CONSTITUTION” AND THE “JAVA”
[December 29th, 1812]
