Parton further says that the great British expedition, so long mustering in the West Indies, so long delayed, cast a prodigious shadow before it, putting New York, Philadelphia and Baltimore on their guard; but that as the autumn passed without the reappearance of hostile force in the northern waters, the conviction gained ground that something overwhelming was in contemplation against the defenseless south and southwest.

“It so chanced,” continues Parton, “that the 8th of January was the days on which it was first whispered about Washington that the President had received news of the British fleet at the mouth of the Mississippi. From that time the eyes of the country were fixed upon New Orleans—not hopefully.”

“It is not an overstatement of the case,” continues Parton, “to say that there was not one well informed man in the northern states who believed that New Orleans could be successfully defended.”

Again quoting from Parton: “After a week of gossip and foreboding, came news of the gunboat battle, and its disastrous results; also rumors of a great armament hovering on the Atlantic coast. ‘We are a lost country,’ said the Federal papers in doleful concert. ‘A wicked administration has ruined us. New Orleans having fallen an easy prey, the British General will leave a few acclimated black regiments to garrison that city, and bring the Wellington heroes around to the Chesapeake. Baltimore will not be able to resist. Washington will again be overrun, Philadelphia and New York will next be attacked, and who shall say with what results? See to what a pass Jefferson and French democracy have brought a deluded country!’”

All sorts of dire rumors were in circulation, and to add to the gloom that prevailed in Washington and elsewhere, a snow storm of remarkable violence and extent set in on the 23rd of January, and continued for three days. Belated mails straggled in, showing that the American Army was still resisting. “New Orleans is not taken yet,” said the Western members, and the Republican editors. “It is merely a question of time,” replied the Federalists; “the next mail will finish New Orleans and you.”

In the midst of that setting, on February 4th, a horseman came into Washington, bearing glorious news for the Administration forces. He had dispatches from General Jackson, detailing the decisive victory of January 8th.

Washington was wild with delight at the unexpected victory. “That evening,” still quoting from Parton, “the town was blazing with light, and the whole populace was abroad, now thronging about the White House (temporary), cheering the President, then surging around the houses of the Secretaries, and residences of the leading supporters of the war, rending the air with shouts.... The next issue of the National Intelligencer cannot be glanced over to this day without exciting in the mind something of the feeling which is wont to express itself by three times three and one cheer more. The great news was headed, in the Intelligencer’s largest type, ‘Almost Incredible Victory!!!!’”

It was worth a life time to experience the jubilation of that night! It was the sudden restoration of a people’s national self-respect.

The news of the reception of the victory elsewhere was equally as thrilling. It aroused what Parton called the “maddest enthusiasm.” A quotation may be given from the autobiography of Mr. John Binns: “A general illumination was ordered in Philadelphia. Few indeed there were yet there were a few who on that night closed their window shutters and mourned the defeat of the enemies of their country. I had early intelligence of this joyful news, and gladly, by an extra, spread it abroad. I put scene painters to work, and had a transparency painted, which covered nearly the whole front of my house. There had been a heavy snow fall, and there was that evening from nine to twelve inches of snow on the ground. That, however, did not prevent men, women and children from parading the street, and delighting their eyes by looking at the illumination and illuminated transparencies, which made the principal streets of our city as light as day. My transparency represented General Jackson on horseback at the head of his staff, in pursuit of the enemy, with the motto: ‘This day shall ne’er go by, from this day to the ending of the world, but He, in it, shall be remembered.’”

This gives in brief a glimpse of the effect in the country of the news of the victory at New Orleans. How can any American describe it as a needless battle? After the event it might have been deplored by the British as needless, just as any lost battle may be so regarded.