University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.
SPRIGS OF LAUREL.

At Newport, Willoughby found several old
friends, some of whom had been his companions
in arms, and this circumstance induced him to
suspend his journey for a week. With the Hon.
Christopher G. Champlin, a member of Congress,
he had been very intimate in his youth, and the
renewal of that intimacy now gave them reciprocal
pleasure.

In the mean time Amelia formed a very pleasing
acquaintance with his lovely neice, Miss Eliza
Mason. This amiable and interesting young
lady was addressed by a lover to whom she was
affianced, and the tenderest attachment existed
between them. The name of this happy youth
was Perry, an officer in the United States navy,
about twenty-four years old. To a manly deportment,
and decisive firmness of character, he
united an amiable disposition, unassuming address,
and prepossessing appearance. Though
early launched among the familiar scenes of naval
life, (and no where is familiarity more apt to be
licentious and encroaching) yet his native gentility
and sober dignity of demeanor, had always
chastened without restraining the freedom of intimacy.

Moral excellence, high-minded courtesy,
and pure unsullied honor, were the sterling ingredients
which composed his character.

George saw, appreciated, and loved. He felt
himself irresistibly drawn to a being whose soul
seemed the repository of every noble virtue; and
on retiring from his first interview, he exclaimed
to his father with enthusiasm, “that man was
born, sir, for a Champion of Freedom.”

If his first impression was thus favorable to the
object of his admiration, a few days' intimacy
heightened it to the warmest and purest friendship,
and George secretly wished that his father
had seen fit to place him also in the way of acquiring
naval renown.

Lieut. Perry was actually descended, on the
maternal side, from the Wallaces, so celebrated
in the annals of Scotland, and he would have
borne the name of William Wallace, had not the
sudden death of a beloved uncle induced his
parents to change it.

His mother, though of Scotch extraction, was
born in Ireland, and married in the year one thousand
seven hundred and eighty-four, to Raymond
H. Perry, esq. who had taken an active part, both
by sea and land, in the cause of American freedom.
This excellent woman had devoted herself
to the education of her children, and formed their
youthful minds to early habits of virtue and religion.
So successful had she been in these attempts,
that neither his thirst for glory, nor the
bustle of a naval life, were able to seduce the
mind of Lieut. Perry from the salutary impressions
which he received in early youth.

At the age of fourteen he had entered the service
as a midshipman, on board the General

Greene, then commanded by his father. When
that ship went out of commission he was transferred
to a squadron destined for the Mediterranean,
where he served during the Tripolitan war.
His extreme youth prevented his having an opportunity
of distinguishing himself; but the faithfulness
and intelligence with which he discharged
the duties of his station, recommended him greatly
to the favor of his superior officers; whilst his
private virtues, and the manly dignity of his deportment,
commanded the friendship and respect
of his associates.

On returning from the Mediterranean, he continued
sedulously attentive to his profession, and
though the reduction of the navy, and the neglect
into which it had now fallen, disheartened many
of the officers, and occasioned several to resign,
yet he determined to adhere to its fortunes, confident
that it must, at some future period, rise to
importance. He now commanded the Revenge,
and was employed in cruising along the coast, to
enforce the embargo law.

Such was lieutenant Perry when introduced to
our “back-woods” travellers, and so assiduous
was he that the period of their stay in Newport
should be agreeably filled up, that scarce a day
or evening passed, without their joining some
party of amusement created by his influence, so
that the intended week was actually extended to
a fortnight. It was here that our young foresters
were first initiated into the sphere of genuine refinement,
and began to assume the fascinating
blandishments of polite life. But the ground-work
was so excellent, that it rather imparted
grace to the embroidery, than received attractions
from it.

After passing two weeks in the most agreeable
intercourse, our travellers, on the fourth of June,
bade their new friends an affectionate adieu, and
reached Providence the same evening. Here the
major had previously agreed, by letter, to spend
a few days with an old friend and brother-soldier,
who had been a fellow-laborer with him
through the whole of the arduous struggle for
American Independence. The name of this veteran
was Allen, who had been early appointed
a first lieutenant in the revolutionary army, and
was actively engaged in most of the battles which
were fought during the war. He commanded the
Rhode-Island line of troops at the battle of Saratoga,
when he was advanced to the rank of
major; and, since the peace, had been appointed,
by the legislature of his state, brigadier-general
of militia. His lady was the governor's sister,
and possessed an amiable disposition, and captivating
manners. The reception of Willoughby
was such as might be expected, after so long a
separation. While he chose to remain in town
with his children, it was insisted that the general's
house should be their quarters, and nothing
was neglected that might conduce to the happiness
of their situation.

The general's son, William Henry, who was
now on a short furlough to visit his friends, was
a lieutenant in the navy, and attached to the frigate
United States, under the command of commodore
Decatur. He was now, apparently,
about twenty-four years of age, with a combination
of gallantry, grace, and intrepidity in his
character, that irresistibly attracted the heart of
George. Perhaps a more polished and polite
sailor never trod the deck of a ship. In the

hour of danger, he had already proved himself
calm, intrepid, and persevering; in private intercourse,
he was guarded, affable, and delicate.
Glory was the mistress of his soul, and he panted
for an opportunity to woo her in the cannon's
mouth.

Notwithstanding the present youth and rusticity
of George Willoughby, there was something
in his countenance and manners that bespoke
a real greatness of soul; this was quickly
discerned by young Allen, and a cordial intimacy
was the consequence; which, short as it was,
kindled into a flame, a spark that had long been
smothering in the bosom of George. When
Allen recounted some of his adventures in the
Mediterranean, during the Tripolitan war, the
natural disposition of our hero would burst
through all restraint, and his enthusiasm draw
smiles from every spectator. “O that I could
enter the navy!” was then the first wish of his
bosom. But he knew that his father would listen
to no such proposal, until his education was
completed, and this consideration alone, prevented
his making the request.

It had always been the intention of General
Allen, that Henry should receive a liberal education,
who, for this purpose, went through the
preparatory studies. He panted, however, for
more active life, and, notwithstanding the remonstrances
of his parents, entered the navy, as
a midshipman, in the year eighteen hundred.

In three months after his appointment, he was
ordered on board the frigate George Washington,
[1] commanded by captain Bainbridge, to carry

presents to the dey of Algiers. On his departure,
he wrote to his father, “I now bid you a short
adieu; but, should it be the last, you shall have
the satisfaction to hear of my good conduct, in
my station, as an officer and as a gentleman.”
This cruise was attended with peculiarity of incident.
The demand of the dey of Algiers, that
the frigate should be employed in carrying his
presents to the grand seignor at Constantinople,
and the unavailing reluctance and remonstrances
of captain Bainbridge, are circumstances generally
known. It was the first time that the flag of
an American frigate had waved in the harbor of
Constantinople. The fine order of the ship, and
the excellent discipline observed amongst the officers
and men, tended to impress very high ideas
of the American character, in a quarter of the
world were before it was unknown.

On the nineteenth of April, in the following
year, young Allen again hailed the verdant landscapes
of his native country; and, while he was
solacing himself in the hope of once more visiting
his family and friends, he was ordered on
board the Philadelphia, under the command of
captain Baron, to scour the Mediterranean sea
again, from whence he returned after a cruise of
fifteen months; and before the expiration of the
year eighteen hundred and six, had returned
from his fourth cruise in the same classical regions.

During these different voyages, he visited
many objects of curiosity, both of nature and
art. He ascended Mount ætna, in company with
commodore Rodgers, and, in returning, they lost
their way amongst fields of lava, but were found
by the monks in the convents below. He likewise

visited Mount Vesuvius, and the cities of
Herculaneum and Pompcia, besides many of the
public buildings in the different cities on the
shores of the Mediterranean.

In February, eighteen hundred and seven, he
received orders from government to join the frigate
Chesapeake, commanded by captain Baron,
then fitting out at Washington, for carrying supplies
to the Mediterranean squadron. He remained
in Philadelphia while the ship was preparing
for sea, during which time he was busily
employed in recruiting men for the service, and
then entered as third lieutenant.

At the time of the sailing of this ship, the United
States were at peace with all the world, and
the Chesapeake was intended rather as a store-ship
than a cruiser. Besides the supplies she
carried, she was much burthened with the luggage
of passengers, among whom were two ladies,
with their servants. Captain Baron was aware
that his ship was not in fit condition to proceed to
sea; but, trusting to the circumstance that the
country was in profound peace, he unfortunately
sailed, unprepared as he was, calculating that
he should be enabled, long before he reached the
European shores, to have his ship put in order.
What a mistaken, imprudent, fatal security!

Two British seventy-fours, the Bellona and
Triumph; the Leopard, carrying fifty guns, and
the Melampus, thirty-eight—under the command
of commodore Douglass, were lying in Lynnhaven-bay.
They were freely receiving, from
our country, supplies of every kind of which
they stood in need; they were partaking largely
of the hospitality of its inhabitants; yet, at this
moment, commodore Douglass held in his possession

an order from his admiral, to take, forcibly,
out of the Chesapeake, a part of her
crew; and he was meditating to execute this offensive
order, in a manner the most irritating to
our country, and the most derogatory to our
navy. Had the object of commodore Douglass
been simply to take the men, and to produce
the least possible irritation, he would, most obviously,
have followed the Chesapeake out to
sea with his whole force, and there would then,
perhaps, have been no reproach on the navy,
had she surrendered without firing a gun. Commodore
Douglass dared not send the Melampus,
as she was a frigate of the same class with the
Chesapeake, and might, therefore, not have succeeded.
The Leopard was sent: she was of
force to insure to the British success, even had the
Chesapeake been in complete order; and yet the
force was not so overbearing but that the Chesapeake
ought to have fought; and had she not
fought, and fought well, the navy would have been
disgraced.

The navy was disgraced. The Chesapeake
was boarded by an officer from the Leopard, with
a written demand, which the American commandant
knew he must absolutely and positively refuse;
and which he did refuse, without, however,
making any preparation to support his refusal
with force. He should have detained the boarding
officer, and ordered his men to beat to quarters.
A full half hour elapsed, from the receipt
of this demand before an answer was composed,
written, and copied, and in that time the ship
might have been nearly prepared for action. But
all the officers remained ignorant of the contents
of the note, and no preparation was made. The

first gun was fired from the Leopard before the
key of the Chesapeake's magazine was delivered
to the gunner. Allen was at the galley, and,
snatching a coal from the flames, fired the only
gun which was discharged, and which pierced the
ward-room of the Leopard. At that moment a
shot from the Leopard struck a man on the breast,
who fell at Allen's feet, covering him with blood,
and splinters of bones. One man had his leg
carried away, two an arm each, and two more
were wounded severely—five out of the eight
whom Allen had collected at this gun.

The colours were then struck, by order of the
captain, who called his officers into the cabin,
and asked their opinions. Allen's answer was,
“Sir, you have disgraced us!”

Although three years had elapsed since this
event, young Allen could not speak on the subject
with composure. In relating the circumstance
to George, he broke forth into the following exclamation:
“To see so many brave men standing
to their quarters, amidst the blood of their
butchered and wounded countrymen, and hear
their cries, without the means of avenging them!
and when, in three minutes we could have avenged
them! to have the flag of my country disgraced!
Was it for this that I had continued so
long in the service, contrary to the wishes of all
my friends! To be so mortified, humbled, cut
to the soul! Yes, to have the finger of scorn
pointing at me as one of the officers of the Chesapeake!
But do not think, my friend, that I feel
that I have not done my duty. Perish the
thought! I proudly feel that I would have willingly
given my trifling life, an offering for the wounded
honor of my country. But, when I act like

Baron, may I die, unpitied and forgotten, and no
tear be shed to my memory. May I lie on some
barren shore, and may my bones whiten in the
sun, be pelted by the pitiless storm, and may the
name of Allen be blasted with infamy.”

At the request of the officers of the Chesapeake,
in a letter, drawn up by Allen, to the secretary
of the navy, a court-martial was convened,
and, after a patient hearing, commodore Baron
was divested of his commission. On leaving the
ship, all the officers were called on deck to witness
his departure, a respect always paid to the
commander, when entering or departing from his
vessel. He now left her, passing through a line
of officers: but no tear of regret was shed—
every brow was contracted, every countenance
was stern; and captain Baron, beholding the repulsive
looks of his officers, fainted.

Intrepidity, however, was not the only excellence
in the character of lieutenant Allen; his
private affections were as warm as his public.
Though his mind was at times inflamed by a
sense of indignant sensibility, that prompted him
to pour into the ear of masculine confidence the
complaints of his lacerated mind, in his intercourse
with the gentle circle that surrounded his
paternal hearth, his conversation was replete
with domestic tenderness and affection. When
in company with the fair, he could enter into all
the innocent levities of ordinary converse, and
seemed as anxious to veil his heroic and indignant
passions, as if this indulgence was criminal in
such intercourse.

Notwithstanding the ocean mania with which
George Willoughby was affected, by the conversation
and manners of his new friend, it was

soon dissipated; for on the second evening of
their stay at the general's, the two old veterans
“fought all their battles o'er again,” and kindled
in George's bosom as ardent a desire to storm an
embattled parapet, as he had just before felt to
board a frigate from the yard-arm. A hero he
was resolved to be—no matter where or how.
The last impression was in favor of the army.

In the course of the conversation, the name of
Andre was mentioned, and the general was sensibly
affected. He had been entrusted with the
charge of that unfortunate but gallant officer,
while under sentence of death; and sat up with
him the whole night previous to his execution.
Andre conversed with him on a variety of subjects,
in which he uniformly spoke of the American
character in terms of the strongest respect,
and expressed his gratitude for the kindness and
delicacy with which he was treated during his
confinement. So affecting was this interview to
Allen, that he could never relate the circumstance
without great emotion.[2]