New tax bills were soon after passed—laying taxes on carriages according to their value; 20 cts. per gallon on distilled spirits; increasing a hundred per cent. the tax on auction duties, and 50 per cent. on postage. Heavy duties were also placed on most goods of domestic manufacture, with the exception of cotton, and a direct tax of six millions was levied on the nation.

As time passed on, and no farther tidings was received from Ghent, Congress again took up and finally passed the bill for the enlistment of minors. The Legislatures of Connecticut and Massachusetts immediately passed acts requiring the judges of these respective states to discharge on habeas corpus all enlistments made under the provisions of the bill, and to punish with fine and imprisonment all who engaged in it, and removed minors out of the state to prevent their discharge.

These acts of Congress, however, did not avail to help the government out of the troubles that were once more gathering thick about it. Everything was at a stand still for lack of funds—even the recruiting service got on slowly. In the mean time, negotiations for peace did not wear a very encouraging aspect, while the gain of the Federalists in some of the states, in the recent elections, and the Hartford Convention, helped to swell the evils under which the administration labored.

The conscription scheme would not work in many of the states, and resort was had to the old system of raising 40,000 volunteers for twelve months, and the acceptance of as many more for local defence.

The administration then turned its attention to the navy, the pride and glory of the country, and a bill was passed Congress authorizing the equipment of twenty small cruisers. Under its provisions two small squadrons of five vessels each, one to be commanded by Porter and the other by Perry, had been set on foot, whose object was to inflict on the British West Indies the havoc and destruction with which the enemy had visited our coast. But it was difficult to obtain seamen, as most of those who had enlisted during the last year had been sent to the northern lakes to serve on fresh water—a duty always unpalatable to a sailor. Our vessels of war being blockaded, we had no occasion for seamen on the coast, and could find employment for them on the lakes alone. Crowningshield, who had succeeded Jones as Secretary of the Navy, actually recommended a conscription of seamen.

In the mean time, Great Britain had concentrated in Canada a larger force than she had ever before assembled there, ready to march on the states, while Cockburn, in possession of Cumberland island, threatened the coasts of Georgia and South Carolina with the same ravages that marked his course in the Chesapeake. Added to all this, a heavy force was known to be on its way to New Orleans, which the government had neglected to defend, and hence expected to see fall into the hands of the enemy. The prospect was black as night around the administration—not a ray of light visited it from any quarter of the heavens. Funds and troops and ships had never been so scarce, while overpowering fleets and armies were assembling on our coasts and frontiers. Jan. 17, 1815. In the midst of all this, as if on purpose to drive the government to despair, Dallas came out with a new report on the state of the Treasury, in which he informed it that the year had closed with $19,000,000 of unpaid debts, to meet which there was less than $2,000,000 on hand, and $4,500,000 of taxes not yet collected. The revenue was estimated at $11,000,000, of which only one million was from imports, the rest from taxes. While he thus exhibited the beggared condition of the Treasury, he informed the administration that fifty millions would be needed to meet the expenditures of the coming year, and gravely asked where it all was to come from. The government looked on in dismay, and to what measures it would have been compelled to resort for relief it is impossible to say; but in reviewing that period one shudders to contemplate the probable results of another year of war, and another Hartford Convention. But like the sun suddenly bursting through a dark and ominous thundercloud, just before he sinks beneath the horizon, came at length the news of the great victory at New Orleans, and the conclusion of peace at Ghent. Never before was an administration so loudly called upon to ask that public thanks might be offered for deliverance from great perils.

CHAPTER X.
HARTFORD CONVENTION.
1814.

Attitude of New England — Governor Strong — Views and purposes of the Federalists — Anxiety of Madison — Prudence of Colonel Jesup — Result of the Convention — Fears of the people — Fate of the Federalists.

While Government was thus struggling to avert the perils that every day grew darker around it, and the negotiations at Ghent were drawing to a conclusion, serious events were occurring in the New England States.

Although the ravages of the enemy along our coast during the summer, and our victories at the north in autumn, together with the insulting demands of England, had seriously weakened the Federalist power, and brought it into still greater disrepute with the mass of the people, and passing events admonished delay, still they resolved to carry out a favorite plan of calling a Convention of the disaffected States, to consult on the best mode of defending themselves, and of forcing the administration into the adoption of their measures, and to take steps towards amending the Constitution. New England had all along denied the right of the General Government to call out the militia, except for the defence of the States in which they resided, and demanded the control of her own troops, and consequently of a large portion of her own revenue. Heavy complaints were also made against the direct taxes levied, and many refused to ride in coaches, or use those things taxed, thus placing themselves beside the revolutionary patriots, and making the General Government resemble England in its oppression.

Massachusetts, with Governor Strong as its Executive head, took the lead in all movements designed to carry out these projects. Resolutions had passed the Legislature, raising an army of ten thousand men, and a million of money to support it. This army was to be officered by Governor Strong, and its movements directed by Federalist councils. Such a large force, raised not to aid the administration to carry on the war, but for selfish ends, naturally awakened the gravest fears, and the President saw in it the first step towards armed opposition. All this may be defensible, but the gallant sons of Kentucky, with their gray-haired but chivalrous Governor at their head, streaming through the northern forests, to drive back from the feeble settlements of Ohio the savage hordes that were laying them waste, and Governor Strong, bidding the militia of his State stay at home and take care of themselves, present a contrast so widely different, that no sophistry can make them appear equally patriotic and unselfish.

In order to bring the whole eastern section into similar measures, and to give union to the opposition, a resolution was passed calling a Convention of the New England States, to meet at Hartford, December 15th, to deliberate on the best method of defence against the enemy, and to take measures for procuring amendments to the Constitution, which the Federalists had ascertained, since the war began, to be a most worthless instrument. The letter accompanying this resolution being laid before the Connecticut Legislature, seven delegates were appointed to the Convention, to meet the twelve sent from Massachusetts; Rhode Island sent four, making in all twenty-three, to which three County delegates from New Hampshire were added. Vermont refused to have any thing to do with the matter. These resolutions did not pass without violent opposition in each of the Legislatures. Holmes, of Massachusetts, openly declared his suspicions that Massachusetts designed to head a combination for the dissolution of the Union. The raising of an army of ten thousand men, not subject to the orders of the General Government, confirmed his fears, and gave a practical character to opinions hostile to the confederacy.

Harrison Gray Otis and John Cabot, were leaders of the Massachusetts delegation.

No body of men ever assembled under such universal execration and odium as did these delegates. Except the few Federalist journals in New England, the entire press of the nation denounced them, one and all, as traitors.

George Cabot being elected President, and Timothy Dwight, Secretary, the Convention proceeded to deliberate on the momentous questions they had proposed to discuss, with closed doors. Madison was in trepidation and could speak of nothing but the Convention, and sent Colonel Jesup to watch it. To prevent his design from being suspected, he directed this gallant officer to make Hartford a recruiting station.

Jesup had had interviews with Governor Tompkins, to ascertain what aid he could afford in case it became necessary to resort to force. He was satisfied that the treasonable designs of the delegates had been much exaggerated, but he wished to be prepared for any emergency, and having arranged his plans, quietly awaited the result of their deliberations. He was in constant correspondence with Monroe, Secretary of War, and did much towards allaying the fears of the President, and promised if open treason exhibited itself, to crush it and its authors, with one decisive blow. Ingratiating himself with some of the delegates of the Convention and with the authorities of Hartford by his conciliatory and agreeable manner; and winning the respect of all by his prudent conduct, he soon became convinced that a resolution for disunion, if offered, could not be carried.

At length, after three weeks of secret session, this dreaded Convention, on whose mysterious sittings the eyes of the nation had been turned, adjourned, and every one waited with anxiety to hear the decision to which it had come. The shadowy forms of disunion and treason had so long been seen presiding over its labors, that some monstrous birth was expected. But nature moved on in her accustomed courses, and no shock was felt by the republic, and instead of a shell flung into the Union, rending it asunder, there appeared a long and heavy document containing the collective wisdom of these twenty-six men. After going over the transgressions of the administration, from first to last, it passed to the defects of the Constitution. It modestly remarked that the enumeration of all the improvements of which this instrument was susceptible, and the proposal of all the amendments necessary to make it perfect, was a task which the Convention had "not thought proper to assume." After paying this flattering testimony to the grand and glorious intellects who framed the Constitution, it proceeded to mention six amendments on which there should be immediate action. The first related to the apportionment of representation among the slave States. The second to the admission of new States, restricting the powers of Congress in this respect, in order to keep down western influence. The third, to the right to pass restrictive and embargo acts, and carry on offensive war. The fifth, to exclude foreigners from holding places of honor, trust or profit under Government, and the last to limiting the Presidential office to one term.

Resolutions and recommendations in accordance with these sentiments, were sent to the separate states represented in that Convention.

Delegates were also appointed to repair to Washington to remonstrate with the President, some say to threaten him, and insist on his resignation. No treason appeared in all this, but the serious discussion of the question of disunion in the preamble, and the hypothetical cases put, in which such a step would be justifiable, showed that it had been mooted and seriously entertained by some of the members.

The tone of the paper was bad, egotistical, and mutinous. It endeavored to arraign the states of New England against the government—urged them to resist forcible drafts and conscriptions, and raise armies of their own to co-operate each with the other in time of need.

This exposé, however, did not satisfy the Democrats, who insisted that some deep-laid scheme was back of all this—that the secret records of the Convention would disclose blacker transactions than had yet seen the light, and from that time on, those twenty delegates have been stigmatized as traitors. They, on the other hand, have defended themselves from the aspersion, and declared that they were governed by the highest patriotic motives and love to the union.

The truth lies, doubtless, somewhere between these extremes. The error of the accusers consists in making one, or two, or more delegates represent the Convention. There probably were men present whose political animosities had carried them so far beyond the limits of reason, that they would rather dissolve the union than live two years longer under the sway of Madison and his party. These views might have been expressed, but the Convention, in refusing to endorse them, was not responsible for them.

But laying all this aside, there is no doubt that the Convention was called to organize one section of the republic against the other, and it depended on circumstances entirely to what extent that opposition should go, and what form it took. This may not be treason, and yet be nearly akin to it. It depends very much on the simple question whether the evils contemplated, as justifying open opposition, are real or imaginary. A deliberate effort to ruin New England and deprive her of her constitutional rights, would certainly justify secession. All this the Federalists believed the government had done, and that party tyranny and oppression could no farther go. The light evils under which they suffered had become so magnified, in the heat of party strife, that many were prepared to act precisely as others would do under real wrongs.

The obloquy that has fallen upon that Convention was merited. The time it chose for its session, when the country was staggering under the weight of a war which, however unjustifiably begun, it could not then close with honor or justice, and the lordly tone it assumed to Congress—the cold and unpatriotic feelings that characterized its deliberations, merit the deepest condemnation. Under a change of fortunes and a continuance of the war, it might, and probably would, have grown into a shape of evil. As events turned out, it has proved a blessing, for it stands as a beacon, warning all leaders of party factions of their fate, who, in national distress, cripple the government, and, by their hostility, help the enemy to inflict sorer evils and deeper disgrace upon a common country. It also shows how local interests, views, and feelings, however magnified at the time by peculiar circumstances, are derided or forgotten, in a movement that affects the fate of a hemisphere.

THE INVASION.
CHAPTER XI.

General Jackson appointed Major-General — Hostility of Spain — Gallant defence of Fort Bowyer — Seizure of Pensacola — Jackson at New Orleans — Approach and landing of the British — Jackson proclaims martial law — Night attack on the British — Jackson entrenches himself — First attack of the British — Second attack — Final Assault — The battle and the victory — Jackson fined by Judge Hall — Arrival of the Treaty of Peace — Great Rejoicings — Delegates of the Hartford Convention — Remarks on the treaty.

In the mean time, great anxiety was felt for the fate of New Orleans, towards which an imposing armament was hastening, bearing a veteran army fresh from the victorious fields of Spain. England had loaned this army to feudalism in Europe for the overthrow of free principles there, and intoxicated with success, resolved to use it to carry out here the same tyrannical system which has ever since been covering her with infamy and for which the final day of reckoning has not yet arrived.

Jackson had been appointed Major-General in place of Harrison, who resigned, and given the command of the southern army to which was entrusted the protection of the coast near the mouth of the Mississippi. Pensacola, then under Spanish authority, was the resort of British emissaries, who stirred up the surrounding savages to massacre and bloodshed, and he determined as a first step to take active measures against it. August. He sent Captain Gordon to reconnoitre the place, who reported, on his return, that he had seen a number of soldiers and several hundred savages in British uniform under drill by British officers. Jackson immediately despatched this report to government. Under such a palpable violation of treaty stipulations there was only one course to be pursued, and Gen. Armstrong, the Secretary of War, issued an order authorizing Jackson to attack the town. This order was made out; but, by some mysterious process, was so long in getting into the post-office, that it never reached its destination till the 17th of January the next year. Jackson waited patiently for the sanction of his government to move forward, not wishing that his first important step as Major-General in the regular army should meet the disapproval of those who had entrusted him with power. But a proclamation, issued by a British officer named Nicholls, and dated Pensacola, calling on all the negroes and savages, nay, even the Americans themselves, to rally to the British standard, put an end to his indecision.

In the mean time, Nicholls made an attempt on Fort Bowyer, a small redoubt, garrisoned by one hundred and twenty men, and defended by twenty pieces of cannon. This fortress commanded the entrance from the Gulf to Mobile. Sept. 12. To capture it, four British ships, carrying ninety guns, and a land force of over seven hundred men were despatched from Pensacola. On the 15th, the ships took up their position within musket-shot of the fort, and opened their fire. The land force, in the mean time, had gained the rear, and commenced an attack. Major Lawrence, with the brave little garrison under his command, met this double onset with the coolness of a veteran. Scattering the motley collection under Nicholls, with a few discharges of grape-shot, he turned his entire attention to the vessels of war. Being in such close range, the cannonading on both sides was terrific. The incessant and heavy explosions shook that little redoubt to its foundations; but at the end of three hours, the smoke slowly curled away from its battered sides, revealing the flag still flying aloft, and the begrimed cannoniers standing sternly beside their pieces. After the firing of the enemy ceased, the ship Hermes was seen drifting helplessly on a sand-bank, while the other vessels were crowding all sail seaward. The former soon after grounded within six hundred yards of the fort, whose guns opened on her anew with tremendous effect, and she soon blew up. Out of the one hundred and seventy who composed her crew, only twenty escaped. The other ships suffered severely, and the total loss of the enemy was one ship burned, and two hundred and thirty-two men killed and wounded, while only eight of the garrison were killed. Nicholls effected his retreat to Pensacola, where the governor received him as his guest, and threw open the public stores to the soldiers. On the flag-staff of the fort were "entwined the colors of Spain and England," as if on purpose to announce that all neutrality was at an end.

These things coming to Jackson's ear, he resolved to delay no longer but get possession of the town and fort at once, "peaceably if he could, forcibly if he must." Nov. 6. He immediately hastened to Fort Montgomery, where he had assembled four thousand men, and putting himself at their head, in four days encamped within two miles of the place, and despatched a flag to the Spanish governor, disclosing his object and purpose. The messenger was fired upon from the fort, and compelled to return. Jackson's fiery nature was instantly aroused by this insult, yet remembering that he was acting without the sanction of government, he resolved still to negotiate. Having, at length, succeeded in opening a Correspondence with the governor, he told him that he had come to take possession of the town, and hold it for Spain till she was able to preserve her neutrality. The governor refusing entirely to be relieved from his charge, Jackson put his columns in motion and marched straight on the town. At the entrance, a battery of two cannon opened on his central column; but these being speedily carried by storm, together with two fortified houses, the troops, with loud shouts, pressed forward, and in a few minutes were masters of the place. The Spanish governor no sooner saw the American soldiers with loud hurrahs inundating the streets, than he rushed forward imploring mercy, and promising an immediate surrender. Jackson at once ordered the recall to be sounded, and retired without the town. The commandant of the fort, however, refused to surrender it, when Jackson ordered an assault. The former wisely averted the approaching blow by lowering his flag. The British fled, taking with them their allies, four hundred of whom being negroes, were carried to the West Indies, and sold for slaves.

Having thus chastised the Spanish governor, and broken up the plans laid to renew the Indian war, Jackson took up his march for New Orleans, against which he had no doubt the large force that had left the eastern coast was directed. He established his headquarters there, on the first of December; and three days after, the news that a large British fleet was approaching the coast, spread through the city. The report was soon confirmed, and Jackson, whom danger always tranquilized, while it filled him with tenfold energy, began to prepare for the approaching shock.

New Orleans, numbering at that time only thirty thousand inhabitants, was but recently purchased from France, and the population, being composed mostly of those in whose veins flowed Spanish and French blood, did not feel the same patriotic ardor that animated the Eastern cities. Many were known to be hostile, and were suspected of carrying on treasonable correspondence with the enemy. Feeling that he had but a slender hold on the city, and knowing that secret foes watched and reported all his movements, Jackson was compelled to act with extreme caution.

This hostility, as it were, in his own camp, added immensely to the embarrassments that surrounded him. But calm, keen, resolute, tireless, and full of courage, he soon inspired the patriotic citizens with confidence. Resources they had not dreamed of, sprang up at his bidding. But it needed all the renown he had won, and all his personal influence, to impart the faintest promise of success.

He had brought only a portion of his troops with him from Pensacola. But no sooner did he arrive, than he inspected narrowly the inlets, bayous, and channels, marked out the location of works, ordered obstructions raised, and then called on the different States to send him help. A thousand regulars were immediately ordered to New Orleans, while the Tennessee militia, under General Carrol, and the mounted riflemen, under General Coffee, hastened as of old, to his side. Concealing as much as possible the weakness of his force, and the bad appointments of many of the soldiers, he strained every nerve to increase the means of defence. The French inhabitants forgot their hostility to the Americans in greater hate of the English, while many others, who, hitherto, had taken little or no interest in the war, roused by the sudden danger that threatened them, flew to arms. The free negroes and refugees from St. Domingo, formed themselves into a black regiment, and were incorporated into the army. Jackson's energy and courage soon changed the whole current of feeling, and, day and night, the sounds of martial preparation echoed along the streets of the city. The excitement swelled higher and higher, as the hostile fleet gradually closed towards the mouth of the Mississippi. But one thought occupied every bosom—one topic became the theme of all conversation. Consternation and courage moved side by side; for while the most believed Jackson to be invincible, others, carefully weighing the force of the armament approaching, could not but anticipate discomfiture and destruction. Nor was this surprising; for a fleet of more than eighty sail, under the command of Admiral Cochrane, carrying on their decks eleven thousand veteran troops, led by men of renown, was advancing on the city. Besides this formidable land force, there were twelve thousand seamen and marines. The facts alone were sufficient to cause anxiety and alarm; but rumor magnified them fourfold. To resist all this, New Orleans had no vessels of war, no strong fortresses, no army of veteran troops. General Jackson, with his undisciplined and half-armed yeomanry, alone stood between the town and destruction. He was not ignorant of the tremendous force advancing against him; but still he was calm and resolute. To the panic-stricken women, who roamed the streets, filling the air with shrieks and cries of alarm, he said, "The enemy shall never reach the city."

New Orleans, situated on the eastern bank of the Mississippi, was accessible not only through the various mouths of the river, but also with small vessels through lakes Borgne and Ponchartrain, and was therefore a difficult place to defend, for no one could tell by what way, or by how many ways the enemy would approach. Jackson saw that he would be compelled to divide his forces in order to guard every avenue. In the mean time, while he watched the approaching force, he kept his eye on the city. The press did not manfully sustain him, and the legislature, then in session, looked upon his actions with suspicion, if not with hostile feelings. Although a native of another State, and having no personal interest in the fate of the place, whose authorities treated him with coldness, he nevertheless, determined to save it at all hazards, and while apparently bending his vast energies to meet an external foe, boldly assumed the control of the municipal authority, declared martial law, and when Judge Hall liberated a traitor whom he had imprisoned, sternly ordered the Judge himself into confinement.

At length, the excited inhabitants were told that the British fleet had reached the coast; sixty sail being seen near the mouth of the Mississippi. Commodore Patterson immediately despatched Lieutenant Jones with five gun-boats to watch its motions. This spirited commander, in passing through Lake Borgne, discovered that the enemy, instead of approaching direct by the river, was advancing up the lakes. In hovering around them to ascertain their designs, he unfortunately got becalmed, and in that position was attacked by forty barges, containing twelve hundred men. Notwithstanding he had under him less than two hundred men, he refused to surrender, and gallantly returned the fire of the enemy. For a whole hour he stubbornly maintained the unequal conquest; but, at length, after killing nearly double his entire force, he was compelled to strike his flag.

The British had now complete control of lakes Ponchartrain and Borgne, and advancing up the latter, entered a canal, and finally effected a landing on the levee, about eight miles from the city. This levee acts as a bank to keep the river from the inland, which is lower than the surface of the water. It varies in width from a few hundred yards to two or three miles, and is covered with plantations. Thus, now almost like a causeway, and again like an elevated plateau, it stretches away from the city, with the river on one side, and an impassable swamp on the other.

The forts that commanded the river were, by this manœuvre of the enemy, rendered comparatively useless, and an open road to the city lay before him. Jackson no sooner heard that the British had effected a landing, than he determined at once to attack them before their heavy artillery and the main body of the army could be brought forward. On the 23d, therefore, a few hours after they had reached the banks of the Mississippi, his columns were in motion, and by evening halted within two miles of the hostile force. His plans were immediately laid—the schooner of war, Caroline, commanded by Commodore Patterson, was ordered to drop quietly down the river, soon after dark, and anchor abreast the British encampment. General Coffee, with between six and seven hundred men, was directed to skirt the swamp to the left of the levee, and gain, undiscovered, the enemy's rear; while he himself, with thirteen hundred troops, would march directly down the river along the highway, and assail them in front. The guns of the Caroline were to be the signal for a general attack. She, unmolested, swept noiselessly down with the current, gained her position, dropped her anchors, and opened her fire. The thunder and blaze of her guns, as grape-shot and balls came rattling and crashing into the camp of the British, were the first intimation they received of an attack. At the same time, Generals Coffee and Jackson gave the orders to advance. Night had now arrived, and although there was a moon, the fast-rising mist from the swamps and river mingling with the smoke of the guns, so dimmed her light that objects could be discerned only a short distance, save the watch-fires of the enemy, which burned brightly through the gloom. Guided by these, Coffee continued to advance, when suddenly he was met by a sharp fire. The enemy, retiring before the shot of the Caroline, had left the bank of the river, not dreaming of a foe in their rear. Coffee was taken by surprise; but this brave commander had been in too many perilous scenes to be disconcerted, and ordering the charge to be sounded, swept the field before him.

Again and again the British rallied, only to be driven from their position. At length they made a determined stand in a grove of orange trees, behind a ditch which was lined with a fence. But the excited troops charged boldly over the ditch, fence, and all, and lighting up the orange grove with the fire of their guns, and awakening its echoes with their loud huzzas, pressed fiercely after the astonished enemy, and forced them back to the river. Here the latter turned at bay, and for half an hour, maintained a determined fight. But being swept by such close and destructive volleys, they at length clambered down the levee, and turning it into a breastwork, repelled every attempt to dislodge them.

In the mean time, Jackson had advanced along the river. Guided by the guns of the Caroline, and the rockets of the enemy, that rose hissing from the gloom, he pressed swiftly forward. He had given directions to move by heads of companies, and as soon as they reached the enemy, to deploy into line, which was to be extended till it joined that of Gen. Coffee, thus forcing the British back upon the river, and keeping them under the guns of the Caroline. But, instead of doing this, they formed into line at the outset. The levee being wide where the march commenced, no inconvenience was felt from this order; but, as it grew narrower, the left wing was gradually forced in, and being a little in advance, crowded and drove back the centre, creating confusion and arresting its progress. The whole, however, continued to press forward, and soon came upon the enemy, entrenched behind a deep ditch. Jackson, perceiving the advantage of their position, ordered a charge at once. The troops marched up to the edge of the ditch, poured one destructive volley over, then leaped after. The British retired behind another, and another, only to be again forced to retreat. At length, Jackson halted; the enemy had withdrawn into the darkness, the Caroline had almost ceased her fire, while but random volleys were heard in the direction of Coffee's brigade. He knew not where to renew the conflict, while the rapidly increasing fog shrouded everything in still greater darkness and uncertainty. Finding, too, that his left wing had got into inextricable confusion, and that a part of Coffee's troops were in no better condition, he determined to withdraw.

While these things were passing on the banks of the Mississippi, and gloom and uncertainty hung over New Orleans, our commissioners at Ghent were wrapt in pleasant slumbers, for the next day was to witness the signature of a treaty of peace between the two countries, when the ravages of war should give place to the peaceful pursuits of commerce.

Jackson had laid his plans with skill, and entertained no doubt of success; and but for the fact that the Caroline commenced her fire a little too early, and that the after false movement of his left wing prevented the rapid advance of the centre, he no doubt would have slain or captured nearly the whole three thousand opposed to him. But night attacks are always subject to failure through mistakes caused by the darkness, especially if the movements are at all complicated. A sudden, heavy onset, overturning every thing before it—a single, concentrated blow, like the fall of an avalanche—are best fitted for the night.

Still, Jackson did not despair of success, and determined at daybreak to renew the attack. But it was soon ascertained, from prisoners and deserters, that by morning the enemy would be six thousand strong, making a disparity against him he could not hope to overcome. He therefore fell back to a deep ditch that stretched from the Mississippi, across the entire levee, to the swamp. Behind this he arrayed his troops, resolved, since nothing else could be done, to make there a determined stand. In his unsuccessful assault, he had lost, in killed, wounded, and prisoners, two hundred and forty men; while the enemy had been weakened by nearly double that number.

Jackson's first plan having failed, all his hopes now rested on a successful defence of his position. The gun-boats had been destroyed, leaving the lakes open to the hostile fleet. All the passes to the city had been guarded in vain. Through an unimportant and almost unknown canal, the enemy had passed unmolested, and landed where nothing but undisciplined troops lay between him and the city. Too strong to be assailed, the British could now complete their arrangements and array their strength at leisure. Undismayed, however, and unshaken in his confidence, Jackson gathered his little band behind this single ditch, and coolly surveyed his chances. He knew the history and character of the troops opposed to him; he knew also how uncertain untrained militia were in a close and hot engagement. Still he resolved to try the issue in a great and desperate battle. No sooner was this determination taken, than he set about increasing the strength of his position with every means in his power. He deepened and widened the ditch; and where it terminated in the swamp, cut down the trees, thus extending the line still further in, to prevent being outflanked. The gallant Coffee was placed here, who, with his noble followers, day after day, and night after night, stood knee-deep in the mud, and slept on the brush they piled together to keep them from the water. Sluices were also opened in the levee, and the waters of the Mississippi turned on the plain, covering it breast-deep. The earth was piled still higher on the edge of the ditch; while cotton bales were brought and covered over to increase the breadth and depth of the breastwork.

With a will unyielding as fate itself, tireless energy, and a frame of iron to match, Jackson no sooner set his heart on a great object, than he toiled towards it with a resolution—nay, almost fierceness—that amazed men.

Night and day the soldiers were kept at work, the sound of the spade and pickaxe never ceased, while the constant rolling of wheels was heard, as wagons and carts sped to and from the city. Jackson, with his whole nature roused to the highest pitch of excitement, moved amid this busy scene, its soul and centre. Impervious to fatigue, he worked on when others sank to rest; and at midday and midnight, was seen reviewing his troops, or traversing the trenches to cheer the laborers; and for four days and nights scarcely took a moment's rest.

In addition to the breastwork he was rearing on the east bank, he ordered General Morgan to take position on the right bank, opposite his line, and fortify it. To prevent the ships from ascending the river to co-operate with the army, he dispatched Major Reynolds to obstruct and defend the pass of Barataria—the channel through which they would in all probability attempt to approach.

In the mean time, the British were not idle. They had deepened the canal through which they had effected a landing, and thus, assisted by the high waters of the Mississippi, been able to bring up larger boats, loaded with the heavy artillery.

On the third day, a battery was observed, erected opposite the Caroline, which, after the good service she did in the night attack, had floated to the opposite shore, where she continued to annoy the enemy. Jackson knew her perilous position, but there had been no wind sufficiently strong to enable her to stem the rapid current; and, on the morning of the 27th, the battery opened on her with shells and red-hot shot. She was soon in a blaze; and the crew, seeing the attempt to save her useless, escaped to the shore. Soon after, she blew up.

The next day, Sir Edward Packenham ordered an attack on the American works. The columns advanced in beautiful order, and at the distance of half a mile opened their batteries, and, with bombshells and congreve-rockets, endeavored to send confusion among the American militia. But the guns of the latter were admirably served, and told with great effect on the exposed ranks of the enemy. The Louisiana sloop of war, that lay opposite the American line, swung her broadside so as to bear on the advancing columns, and raked them with such a deadly fire that the assault was abandoned, and the army returned to camp, with the loss of over a hundred men, while that of the Americans was but seven killed and eight wounded. But among the slain of the latter was Colonel Henderson of the Tennessee militia, a man deeply lamented.

Events were now evidently approaching a crisis; and the anxiety and interest deepened daily and hourly. To add to the weight which already pressed the heart of Jackson, he was told that the legislature had become frightened, and was discussing the propriety of surrendering the city. He immediately sent a dispatch to Governor Clairborne, ordering him to watch its proceedings, and the moment such a project should be fairly formed, to place a guard at the door of the chamber, and shut the members in. In his zeal and warm-hearted patriotism, or through misconception of the order, the governor, making sure work of it, turned the whole of them out of doors. Just before the execution of this high-handed measure, a committee of the legislature waited on Jackson, to inquire what he designed to do if compelled to abandon his position. "If," he replied, "I thought the hair of my head could divine what I should do, I would cut it off forthwith. Go back with this answer: say to your honorable body that if disaster does overtake me, and the fate of war drives me from my line to the city, that they may expect to have a warm session." To one who asked him afterwards what he would have done in such an emergency, he said, "I would have retreated to the city, fired it, and fought the enemy amid the surrounding flames." A more heroic speech never fell from the lips of a commander. New Orleans in flames and Jackson charging down its blazing streets, would have been one of the most frightful exhibitions furnished in the annals of the war.

The British, after the attack of the 28th, occupied their whole time in landing heavier cannon. Having completed their arrangements, they resolved to make another attempt on the American works. The New Year opened with a heavy fog, which shrouded the whole plain and British encampment from sight. But, from its mysterious bosom, ominous, muffled sounds arose, which were distinctly heard in every part of the American line, and the troops stood to arms. At length, as the sun gathered strength, the fog lifted and parted—dimly revealing the whole plain. No sooner did the enemy, who had advanced their batteries within six hundred yards of the American intrenchments, see the long, black line of the latter, stretching through the haze, than a tremendous burst of artillery shook the solid levee on which it stood. A flight of Congreve rockets followed, crossing and recrossing the heavens in every direction, and weaving a fiery net-work over the heads of the astonished but undaunted Americans. The first heavy explosion sent Jackson to the lines; and luckily for him it did; for the British having been shown by a spy the house which he occupied, they directed a battery upon it, and in a few minutes it was riddled with balls. The American artillery replied, and it was a constant roar of cannon till noon, when most of the English batteries being beaten down or damaged, they ceased their fire. One, near the river, continued to play on the American works till three o'clock, when it also became silent, and the enemy, baffled at every point, retired sullenly to his camp.

The two armies, each expecting reinforcements, now rested for a week from decisive hostilities. In the mean time, Jackson continued to strengthen his works and discipline his men. A Frenchman having come to him to complain of damage done to his property, the latter replied that, as he was a man of property, he knew of no one who had a better right to defend it, and placing a musket in his hands, ordered him into the ranks.

During this week of comparative repose, New Orleans and the two hostile camps presented a spectacle of the most thrilling interest. The British army lay in full view of the American lines, their white tents looking, amid the surrounding water, like clouds of sail resting on the bosom of the river. At intervals were heard the sharp and rattling volleys of the pickets of the two armies, as they came in collision, while the morning and evening gun sent their stern challenge over the plain. There was marching and countermarching, strains of martial music, and all the confused sounds of a camp, when preparations are making for a grand and decisive blow. To the farmers, merchants, mechanics, and youths, who lay within the American intrenchments, the scene and the thoughts it awakened were new. Behind them stood their homes; before them, the veterans of Spain, whom, in a few days, they were to meet in final combat.

In the city, the excitement kept increasing; but after the first battle, the patriotism of the population received a new impulse. In the night attack many of the troops had lost all their clothing except that which they wore on their backs, and hence soon began to suffer. No sooner was this known to the ladies than their fair hands were in motion; and in a short time the wants of the soldiers were supplied.

In the mean time the long-expected Kentucky troops, upwards of two thousand strong, arrived. Courier after courier had been sent to hurry their march; and the last day had been one of incredible toil and speed. Only five hundred of them, however, had muskets; the rest were armed with fowling-pieces, and such weapons as they could lay hands on. Nor were there any means of supplying them, so that the accession of strength was comparatively trifling. Gen. Lambert, too, had reinforced the British with several thousand veteran troops.

A canal in the mean time had been widened through the levee, by which boats were transported to the Mississippi for that portion of the army which was destined to act against the fortifications on the west bank, commanded by General Morgan. A long siege was out of the question, and now nothing remained to be done but to advance at once to the assault of the American intrenchments, or abandon the expedition. The latter alternative was not to be contemplated; and, on the night of the 7th, Jackson, surveying the encampment through his glass, discovered unmistakeable evidence that the enemy was meditating an important movement. The camp was in commotion; the boats which had been dragged through the canal, and now lay moored to the levee, were being loaded with artillery and munitions of war, and every thing betokened a hot to-morrow. Coffee still held the swamp on the left; Carroll, with his Tennesseans, the centre; while Jackson, with the regulars under him, commanded in person the right, resting on the river. Behind Carroll were placed the Kentuckians, under General Adair—in all, less than four thousand effective men. Jan. 8. This was the position of affairs as the Sabbath morning of the 8th of January began to dawn. The light had scarcely streaked the east, when the inhabitants of New Orleans were startled from their slumbers by an explosion of cannon that shook the city. The battle had opened. Under cover of the night, heavy batteries had been erected within eight hundred yards of the American intrenchments, and, the moment the fog lifted above them, they opened their fire. Directly after, a rocket, rising through the mist near the swamp, and another answering it from the shore, announced that all was ready. The next moment, two columns, each four or five thousand strong—one moving straight on Carrol's position, the other against the right of the intrenchments—swept steadily and swiftly across the plain. Three thrilling cheers rose over the dark intrenchments at the sight, and then all was still again.

The levee here was contracted to four hundred yards in width, and as the columns, sixty or seventy deep, crowded over this avenue, every cannon on the breastwork was trained upon them by Baratarian, French and American engineers, and the moment they came within range, a murderous fire opened. Frightful gaps were made in the ranks at every discharge, which were closed by living men only the next moment to be re-opened.

The Americans stood with their hands clenched around their muskets and rifles, gazing with astonishment on this new, unwonted spectacle. The calm and steady advance under such an incessant and crushing fire, carried with it the prestige of victory. As they approached the ditch, the columns swiftly, yet beautifully deployed, and under the cover of blazing bombs and rockets, that filled the air in every direction, and stooped hissing over the American works, pressed forward with loud cheers, to the assault. Nothing but cannon had spoken till then from that low breastwork; but as those two doomed columns reached the farthest brink of the ditch, the word "Fire!" ran along the American line—the next moment the intrenchments were in a blaze. It was a solid sheet of flame rolling on the foe. Stunned by the tremendous and deadly volleys, the front ranks stopped and sunk in their footsteps, like snow when it meets the stream. But high over the thunder of cannon were heard the words of command, and drums beating the charge; and still bravely breasting the fiery sleet, the ranks pressed forward, but only to melt away on the brink of that fatal ditch. Jackson, with flashing eye and flushed brow, rode slowly along the lines, cheering the men, and issuing his orders, followed by loud huzzas as he passed. From the effect of the American volleys, he knew, if the troops stood firm, the day was his own, and with stirring appeals and confident words he roused them to the same enthusiasm which animated his breast and beamed from his face. The soldiers of Gen. Adair, stationed in the rear of Carrol, loaded for those in front, so that there was no cessation to the fire. It was a constant flash and peal along the whole line. Every man was a marksman, every shot told, and no troops in the world could long withstand such a destructive fire. The front of battle, torn and rent, wavered to and fro on the plain, when Packenham galloped up, and riding bravely through the shaking ranks, for a moment restored order. The next moment he reeled from his saddle mortally wounded. Generals Gibbs and Keane, while nobly struggling to rally the men, were also shot down, and the maddened columns turned and fled. Lambert, hastening up with the reserve, met the fugitives, and endeavored, but in vain, to arrest the flight. They never halted till they reached a ditch four hundred yards distant, into which they flung themselves to escape the scourging fire that pursued them. Here he at last rallied them to another charge. The bleeding column, strengthened by the reserve, again advanced sternly but hopelessly, into the deadly fire, and attempted to deploy. It was a last vain effort—it was like charging down the mouth of a volcano, and the troops again broke and fled, smote at every step by the batteries.

Col. Kennie led the attack against the redoubt on the right, and succeeded in entering, but found there his grave. Driven forth, the troops sought safety in flight; but the fire that pursued them was too fatal, and they threw themselves into a ditch, where they lay sheltered till night, and then stole away under cover of the darkness.

The ground in front of the American intrenchments presented a frightful spectacle. It was red with the blood of men. The space was so narrow along which the enemy had advanced, that the dead literally cumbered the field.

The sun of that Sabbath morning rose in blood, and before he had advanced an hour on his course, a multitude of souls "unhouseled, unanneled," had passed to the stillness of eternity. New Orleans never before witnessed such a Sabbath morning. Anxiety and fear sat on every countenance. The road towards the American encampment was lined with trembling listeners, and tearful eyes were bent on the distance to catch the first sight of the retreating army. But when the thunder and tumult ceased, and word was brought that the Americans still held the intrenchments, and that the British had retreated in confusion, there went up a long, glad shout—the bells of the churches rang out a joyous peal, and hope and confidence revived in every bosom.

The attack on the right bank of the river had been successful, and but for the terrible havoc on the left shore, this stroke of good fortune might have changed the results of the day. The fort, from which Gen. Morgan had fled, commanded the interior of Jackson's entrenchments, and a fire opened from it would soon have shaken the steadiness of his troops. But Col. Thornton, who had captured it, seeing the complete overthrow of the main army, soon after abandoned it.

The Americans, with that noble-hearted generosity which had distinguished them on every battle-field, hurried forth soon as the firing had ceased, to succor the wounded, who they knew had designed to riot amid their own peaceful dwellings. "Beauty and booty," was the watchword in an orderly-book found on the battle-field; and though there is not sufficient reason to believe that the city would have been given over to rapine and lust, yet no doubt great excesses would have been tolerated. The recent conduct of the English troops on the Atlantic coast, where no such resistance had been offered to exasperate them, furnished grounds for the gravest fears.

The British in this attack outnumbered the Americans more than three to one, and yet the loss on the part of the latter was only thirteen killed and wounded—seventy-one, all told, both sides of the river—while that of the former was nearly two thousand, a disparity unparalleled in the annals of war.

The British were allowed to retreat unmolested to their ships, and the sails of that proud fleet, whose approach had sent such consternation through the hearts of the inhabitants, were seen lessening in the horizon with feelings of unspeakable joy and triumph. All danger had now passed away, and Jackson made his triumphal entry into the city. The bells were rung, maidens dressed in white, strewed flowers in his path, the heavens echoed with acclamations, and blessings unnumbered were poured on his head.

But as there had been foes and traitors to the American cause from the first appearance of the British fleet, so there were those now who stirred up strife, and by anonymous articles published in one of the city papers, endeavored to sow dissensions among the troops. It would, no doubt, have been better for Jackson, in the fulness of his triumph, and in the plenitude of his power, to have overlooked this. But these very men he knew had acted as spies while the enemy lay before his entrenchments, causing him innumerable vexations, and endangering the cause of the country, and he determined as martial law had not yet been repealed, to seize the offenders. He demanded of the editor the name of the writer of a certain article, who proved to be a member of the legislature. He then applied to Judge Hall for a writ of habeas corpus, which was granted, and the recreant statesman was thrown into prison. Soon after, martial law being removed, Judge Hall issued an attachment against Jackson for contempt of court, and he was brought before him to answer interrogatories. This he refused to do, and asked for the sentence. The judge, still smarting under the remembrance of his former arrest by Jackson, fined him a thousand dollars. A burst of indignation followed this sentence, and as the latter turned to enter his carriage, the crowd around seized it, and dragged it home with shouts. The fine was paid immediately; but in a few hours the outraged citizens refunded the sum to the general. He, however, refused it, requesting it to be appropriated to a charitable institution. Judge Hall by this act secured for himself the fame of the man who, to figure in history, fired the temple of Delphos.

The arbitrary manner in which Jackson disposed of the State legislature and judges of the court, became afterwards the subject of much discussion, and during his political life the ground of heavy accusations. If the question be respecting the manner in which he assumed arbitrary power, it is not worth discussing. But if, on the other hand, the assumption of it at all is condemned, then the whole thing turns on the necessities of the case, and whether that use was made of it which the general good and not personal feelings required. That it was necessary, no one can doubt. He had a right, also, as commander-in-chief of the army in that section, to whom the defence of the southern frontier had been intrusted, to force the civil power into obedience to the orders of the general government. He was to defend and save New Orleans, and if the civil authority proved treacherous or weak, it was his duty to see that it did not act against him while plainly in the path of his duty. New Orleans so considered it; and six years after, the corporation appropriated fifty thousand dollars to the erection of a marble statue of him in the city. Congress thought so, when, thirty years after, it voted the repayment of the fine, with interest, from the date it was inflicted, and notwithstanding the whole matter was made a party question, it will not stand as such in history.

Jackson remained in New Orleans till March, when he was relieved by General Gaines. On taking leave of his troops, who, by their cheerful endurance of hardships and their bravery, had become endeared to him, he issued an address full of encomiums on their conduct, and expressions of love for their character. He concluded by saying, "Farewell, fellow—soldiers! The expression of your General's thanks is feeble; but the gratitude of a country of freemen is yours—yours the applause of an admiring world." What a contrast does this man, covered with the laurels of his two recent campaigns, present to the captive boy in the revolutionary struggle whose hand was brutally gashed by a subordinate British officer, because he refused to black his boots! This world has changes. The lad with his eye to the knot-hole at Camden watching the defeat of the American army with anguish, and the hero gazing proudly on the flying columns of the veteran troops of the British empire, are the same in soul—but how different in position! They say, "Time sets all things even." In Jackson's case, the wrongs done to his family by an oppressive nation, and the outrages he himself had received, were terribly avenged.