Theirs was a romantic relationship. “All my affection embraces you,” Madison had once written to Dolley.
A few days later, he was even bolder when he offered a simple social kiss for her sister Anna and a romantic onslaught for his wife. “Give Miss (Anna) a kiss for me and accept a thousand for yourself.”
Though rarely apart, they were separated for a while in 1805 when Dolley recovered from a knee problem in Philadelphia. She warmly expressed her love to James: “To find that you love me, have my child safe . . . seems to comprise all my happiness.”
The most famous letter that Dolley ever wrote was dated August 23, 1814. Though a copy of it didn’t surface publicly for twenty years, it describes what had happened on August 22 and what took place on August 24. Regardless of when she wrote it or if she later edited it, this letter is how she wanted to be remembered.
The correspondence begins a tad generically with “Dear Sister.” Because her sister Anna lived in town, most likely she intended it for her other sister, Lucy Todd, who was back home in Kentucky.
Before leaving her at the White House on August 22, James had held an emotional conversation with Dolley. He was deeply concerned about her safety. Yet, he wanted her to stay.
Dolley wrote, “He inquired anxiously whether I had courage, or firmness to remain in the President’s House until his return, on the morrow, or succeeding day, and on my assurance that I had no fear but for him and the success of our army, he left me.”
As worried as he was about leaving her, James needed her to finish an important job at the White House: “To take care of myself, and of the cabinet papers, public and private.”
Thus, she spent her time packing memorandums, correspondence, and, possibly, her husband’s unpublished documentation of the proceedings of the Constitutional Convention. Though they were still unknown to the public, Madison’s notes on the Constitution were the best records of the secret debate that created the U.S. Constitution. One day, those letters would become very well known.
Such papers were too precious to leave behind. Dolley had an important task that would have drawn her into her husband’s office and the cabinet area of the adjacent East Room. There she made sure the papers of her husband’s administration were packed and ready for an evacuation should the need arise.
Francis Scott Key was born in Frederick County, Maryland. He attended preparatory school starting at age ten at St. John’s College in Annapolis, where his grandmother lived. He continued through college and studied law after contemplating becoming a preacher. Advocating for others proved as natural for him as breathing.
After graduation he became an attorney and set up shop in Georgetown, Maryland, just outside of Washington City. He was also destined to be a family man. Marrying Mary Tayloe Lloyd, he became the father of eleven children.
Local residents in both Georgetown and Washington had read Key’s name in the newspaper many times, but not for heroics or politics. Instead he took out classified advertisements. As a trustee overseeing real estate, he often advertised lots for sale in the growing housing and business market of the nation’s capital.
He also had some business dealings with President and Mrs. Madison. In June 1810 he notified Mrs. Madison that their servant Joe “has been anxious to purchase the freedom of his wife.” Millie, Joe’s wife, belonged to the Key family. Francis’s parents owned a plantation in rural Maryland. Joe had asked the Madisons to take in Joe’s wife and child. Appreciative of Millie’s excellent service, Key was agreeable to give her freedom. “I have therefore at his request drawn up the enclosed deed of manumission.” Key would later become an advocate for creating a freemen’s colony in Africa.
Patriotic to the core, Key was also part of the Georgetown militia. On August 19, 1814, General Smith mustered the militia of Georgetown and Washington. At age thirty-five, Key was not the youngest but neither was he the oldest to answer the call of his country that day. The militia convened only to discover that they did not have enough weapons to do any good. They dismissed and rallied again the next day with a few more resources. Though still inadequately supplied, they marched toward Benedict, Maryland. Combined with the Washington militia, their numbers totaled 1,800.
They were not alone when they arrived on August 22 at Battalion Old Fields, which was eight miles from Marlborough and eight miles from Washington. Joining them were Commodore Barney, his flotilla, marines, and regular soldiers from the 36th and 38th Regiments, for a total of 2,700 men. Though far from the 10,000 that President Madison had hoped to convene, they were not a force of nothing. Under the circumstances, every hand that could help was welcome. At the same time, General Stanbury’s 1,400 men from Baltimore arrived in Bladensburg, Maryland.
On August 23, those camping at the old fields formed lines to show their readiness to march and fight. Hoping to motivate his soldiers, President Madison reviewed them.
General Smith knew of Key’s ability to advocate for others. In the crisis ahead, he would look to him for counsel and allow him to speak for him. Such as was the skill that Key brought with him wherever he went.
Joseph Gales had received so many reports from so many different sources that it was impossible to sort fact from fiction. Devoted to freedom of the press, Gales told his readers the truth as he saw it on August 23: “Nearly all the rumors that reach us from the scene of action below are evidently so exaggerated and so contradictory that it is impossible to form from them anything like a correct and satisfactory opinion either of the strength or operations of the enemy.”
Observation is an important skill for a newspaperman. Gales had figured out that the contrasting fever and coolness of the reports he had received were based as much on the individual’s temperament as the truth itself. “Each man brings the tidings dictated by his own fears and impressions; consequently we are inundated by numerous reports that bear no likeness to the truth.”
With such confusion in the newspaper, the residents of Washington didn’t know what to think. Should they flee? Should they stay? Should they be afraid?
The morning of August 23, Cockburn and Scott along with their marines marched to Upper Marlborough, Maryland, where Cockburn conferred with General Ross.
With Barney’s flotilla burned and no longer in their way, Cockburn had a strong argument for convincing Ross to attack Washington. Hadn’t they agreed to take this one step at a time? Yes. Hadn’t they agreed that if they defeated Barney’s flotilla, then there would be no force to oppose them from the water? Yes, they had.
Ross was practical and concerned about the size of their force. Cockburn was prepared for such oppositional thinking. Though the admiral was disappointed that only about 4,500 men, less than a fourth of the 20,000 he had hoped for, were at their disposal, given the apathy of the Americans, it should be more than enough.
Ross responded by agreeing, in spite of Cochrane’s wavering and the admiralty’s conservative request to stay close to the ships.
A good judge of personality, Cockburn detected that Ross was more prone to follow than lead. The admiral realized that to get his way, he needed to be Ross’s best confidante, frequently deferring to his leadership while also offering, genteelly, his opinion.
Thrilled with Ross’s decision to attack Washington, Cockburn immediately sent Scott to convey the decision to Cochrane, who remained aboard one of the ships miles away at the Patuxent River. Though he knew it would take Scott most of the day to reach Cochrane, Cockburn understood the need to notify the admiral of their plan. Promotions wouldn’t come without Cochrane’s pleasure. Surely Cochrane would trust their decision, especially with Barney’s flotilla out of the way. Surely.
Meanwhile, Dolley was receiving messages from James. She wrote her sister about the events of August 23: “I have since received two dispatches from him, written with a pencil.”
Madison had spent the previous night in camp. Noting that the troops were in high spirits, he wrote Dolley that “the reports as to the enemy have varied every hour.
The last and probably truest information is that they are not very strong, and are without cavalry or artillery; and of course that they are not in a condition to strike at Washington.”
What relief he offered. Without cavalry or cannons, James didn’t believe the enemy would move from their position in Marlborough, about twenty miles away “unless it be from an apprehension of our gathering force, and on a retreat to their ships.”
Though he expressed some optimism, she detected that he was trying to weigh the balance with caution. He wrote, “They may have a greater force or expect one, than has been represented or that their temerity may be greater than their strength.”
Madison added an important detail for his beloved. He hoped to return to her at the White House that evening, August 23.
Later that day she received another note from him. This second dispatch was “alarming, because he desires I should be ready at a moment’s warning to enter my carriage and leave the city.”
What a shock that was! Contradicting his earlier message, he boldly proclaimed, “That the enemy seemed stronger than had been reported and that it might happen that they would reach the city, with intention to destroy it.”
How did she respond to the alarm? She wanted to communicate courage, expressing a sentiment similar to that which she had written to her cousin Edward about rumors that Cockburn was planning to take a bow in her drawing room in 1813. “I am accordingly ready; I have pressed as many cabinet papers into trunks as to fill one carriage; our private property must be sacrificed, as it is impossible to procure wagons for its transportation.”
With the determination of an eagle, she was ready to leave her perch and fly from her nest, taking eagle ornaments and the red curtains but leaving behind her beautiful gowns and turbans. Material items were nothing compared to the danger facing her beloved husband.
Scott arrived at Cochrane’s flagship late in the day on August 23 to convey Cockburn and Ross’s decision to invade Washington. When he arrived, he found several advisors surrounding commanding Admiral Cochrane.
“The captain of the fleet was with him in the cabin when I delivered the information and message with which I was charged,” Scott later wrote. “A long discussion ensued: the junior officer, appearing to think the attempt was too rash, stated his opinion to that effect.”
The response worried Scott, who knew Cockburn better than anyone else. What would happen if Cochrane didn’t approve of General Ross’s decision?
Scott listened as Cochrane assessed the information. Wasn’t the Chesapeake Bay notorious in the summer for diseases? Wasn’t the heat oppressive? Why hadn’t the admiralty sent more reinforcements? Wouldn’t October be a better time to attack Washington City, after summer diseases had passed? New Hampshire was ideal this time of year, wasn’t it? Many factors weighed on the British officers and Cochrane. In Scott’s words, “And finally an order was penned for the rear admiral, (intended of course as a guidance to General Ross also) and handed over to me with directions to proceed without a moment’s loss of time to headquarters.”
Cochrane also instructed Scott to read and memorize the instructions. If he was caught by the Americans, he must eat the paper.
“The orders contained in that letter were to the following effect: That under all circumstances the rear admiral had already effected more than England could have expected with the small force under his orders; that he was on no account to proceed one mile farther,” Scott reflected.
Not only was Cockburn ordered to stand down, but he was also required to turn around. “But, upon the receipt of that order, the army was immediately to return to Benedict to re-embark; that the ulterior and principal objects of the expedition would be risked by an attempt upon the capital with such inadequate means.”
Scott now returned under the darkness of night. Worry guided him as much as his horse. Because attacking Washington had been Cockburn’s goal all along, how would he respond to Cochrane’s decision to abandon the plan?
“I am determined not to go myself until I see Mr. Madison safe, and he can accompany me, as I hear of much hostility towards him, disaffection stalks around us,” Dolley wrote protectively to her sister.
Though she planned to wait for James’s return, those who had guarded her had already fled, including those encamped near the White House. “My friends and acquaintances are all gone; Even Col. C—with his 100 men, who were stationed as a guard in the enclosure.”
Dolley’s sister Anna was just as alarmed. She had scribbled a quick note to Dolley, writing, “My Sister, tell me for God’s sake where you are and what [you are] going to do?”
Also experiencing a shortage of carriages, Anna had asked her husband to pack their piano or anything he could get “in a wagon if the British are coming—We can hear nothing but what is horrible here.” With so many people fleeing town, Dolley debated with French John, one of her most reliable servants, about what to do.
Born in Paris, Jean Pierre Sioussat, or French John, was thirty-three years old in 1814. After deserting from the French Navy, he came to America and later joined the service of Mr. Anthony Merry, the British diplomat to the United States during Jefferson’s tenure. When the Merrys departed Washington in a huff after President Jefferson insulted them, Sioussat joined the household of Mr. Erskine, the British diplomat who replaced Mr. Merry. After the British fired Erskine and ordered his return to England, French John joined the Madison staff as a porter. By 1814, he was married and had two children, a four-year-old son and a one-year-old daughter.
“French John (a faithful domestic,) with his usual activity and resolution, offers to spike the cannon at the gate, and to lay a train of powder which would blow up the British, should they enter the house,” Dolley wrote.
Unable to bear being responsible for the destruction at the White House, she added, “To the last proposition I positively object, without being able, however, to make him understand why all advantages in war may not be taken.”
Believing that his intentions were noble, Dolley knew she could rely upon him in an emergency.
“Have they artillery? No. Have they cavalry? No. Then don’t tell an old soldier that any regular army will or can come,” Armstrong told Winder the night of August 23.
Concerned and confused, Winder had returned to Washington with his men that night so they could go home for a quick change of clothes and a meal before convening again at Washington headquarters near the Naval Yard.
An exhausted Winder then knocked on the door of Secretary Armstrong’s quarters, known as the Seven Buildings. Winder expressed worry over the possibility of an imminent invasion by the British only to listen with great alarm to Armstrong’s rant.
“We are more frightened than hurt, or like to be. What do they want, what can they get in this sheep walk,” Armstrong continued. “If they want to do anything they must go to Baltimore, not come to this barren wilderness.”
Winder left, hoping that Armstrong was right but fearing that he was wrong.
What Armstrong failed to understand is that Cockburn didn’t need artillery. The admiral wore brashness more than practicality on his shoulders. He didn’t care that Washington was no better than a sheep pasture. This was the place of Madison’s seat of power and America’s symbolic monumental buildings. This was the place to strike before all others because it was the heart of a government built on representation of the people. What could possibly stop him?
Scott reached Cockburn’s and Ross’s “shepherd’s quarters” at two o’clock in the morning of August 24. He gave the message to Cockburn, who read it. Keeping his composure, Cockburn waited for Ross’s opinion. Soon blind obedience would combat justified rebellion.
Ross expressed diffidence, acknowledging the small force and their uncomfortable distance from their ships.
“Having perused it, he [Ross] remarked that there was now no other alternative than to return. ‘No,’ replied the admiral, ‘we cannot do that; we are too far advanced to think of a retreat: let us tak
e a turn outside, and talk the matter over,’” Scott later recounted.
As Ross and Cockburn took a walk about camp, Scott heard some of the conversation, which he later recorded. “‘If we proceed,’ said our energetic commander, ‘I’ll pledge every thing that is dear to me as an officer that we shall succeed. If we return without striking a blow, it will be worse than a defeat—it will bring a stain upon our arms.’”
Cockburn did not let up easily. How could he? This is what he had been working toward for fifteen months.
“‘I know their force—the militia, however great their numbers, will not—cannot stand against your disciplined troops. It is too late,’ continued the admiral. ‘we ought not to have advanced—there is now no choice left us. We must go on.’”
Hearing this, General Ross struck his hand against his forehead and agreed. “Well, be it so, we will proceed.”
Because some of the soldiers and marines had heard they were to retreat, the men could not have been happier at the change. “A low murmuring burst of enthusiasm involuntarily escaped from the lips of the officers and men, sufficiently indicative of the spirit that animated the hearts of the gallant band. In less than five minutes the whole army were in full march for the capital of the United States.”
How did Cockburn justify their decision to his superior? As if pretending that he never received the communication, Cockburn coyly wrote Cochrane that he had joined Ross and conferred with him about further operations against the enemy, “and we were not long in agreeing on the propriety of making an immediate attempt on the city of Washington.”
Ross asked Cockburn to relocate his naval forces and join him. “In conformity therefore with the wishes of the general, I instantly sent orders for our marine and naval forces.”
Cockburn was thrilled. “I also most readily agreed to accompany.”
The Burning of the White House Page 20