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13. “The trophies won by the Athenians”
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121 13 “The trophies won by the Athenians” W hile Decatur was laying his laurels at Susan’s feet, Lieutenant Archibald Hamilton continued on to Washington. Hamilton left New London on Friday, December 4, and reached the capital on Tuesday, December 8. His timing could not have been better. That night at Tomlinson’s Hotel on Capitol Hill, all of Washington society would gather to honor the nation’s naval heroes.1 Isaac Hull, Charles Stewart, and Charles Morris were all in town, as was Jacob Jones, captain of the Wasp, which had defeated the Frolic. Stewart had hosted a celebration on board the Constellation, moored in the Potomac. President and Mrs. Madison had been among the five hundred dignitaries rowed out to dance and dine on the Constellation’s deck. As Washingtonians prepared for the ball at Tomlinson’s Hotel, a handbill circulated through town with the stunning news that Decatur had captured the frigate Macedonian. Immediately, Washington’s homes were illuminated in celebration, and as the architect Benjamin Latrobe and his wife Mary left for Tomlinson’s, they saw “Pennsylvania Ave. and the scattered houses on the hills” lit with “a most singular and splendid dash of scattered fires.” The revelers arrived in high spirits, but they were soon brought to earth. None of the officials present—including the secretary of the navy—could confirm the rumor about Decatur and the Macedonian. “People were ashamed to have wasted their candles on a false report.” But with the captured flags of the Guerriere and the Wasp hanging on the walls, and Hull, Morris, and Stewart with them, the revelers—who included Dolley Madison, Elizabeth Monroe, Hannah Gallatin, and Paul and Mary Hamilton and their daughters—celebrated anyway. They would consider their illuminations to be in honor of capturing the Guerriere. The dancing began with the usual “crowding . . . upon the toes and trains of those that did not dance,” and went on for several happy hours. Shortly after nine a loud “huzza” brought the music to a sudden stop. All eyes turned to the door, where a tall, fatigued lieutenant stood, carrying in his arms a British flag. Mary Hamilton nearly fainted. She had not seen her son Archibald in three years—and only a year before he had narrowly escaped death in a horrific fire in a Richmond theater. All day, as she had heard rumors of a battle between the United States and the Macedonian, she had been frantic with worry. Even in victory men died. Now suddenly here he was, alive. The false, 122 chapter thirteen almost forced gaiety gave way to “profound silence” as Hull, Stewart, and Morris marched to the door. The three captains raised the lieutenant onto their shoulders and carried him across the room to his mother. He “sprang into her arms,” and his sisters threw their arms around him as the band struck up “Yankee Doodle,” the song with which the British had once mocked the colonial Americans, and then “Hail, Columbia.” Leaving Mary Hamilton and her children, Hull, Morris, Stewart, and Secretary Hamilton unfurled the Macedonian’s flag and raised it over their heads like a canopy as they paraded around the crowded ballroom. The crowd cheered in delirium as the four men made their way to the front of the room, where they spread the flag at Dolley Madison’s feet. Benjamin Latrobe thought that this last gesture “degraded the whole scene,” but still could think of nothing more “affecting and at the same time dramatic” as this “unexpected and unprepared” celebration, which “went off as long rehearsed.” Mary Latrobe worried that this celebration, like those for the Guerriere victory, might be premature. The English navy still was much stronger than the American, and despite these victories, she thought, “there are ten chances to one that we are beaten.” And how could she look with any pleasure at the captured flags, “the taking of which had made so many orphans and widows.” As the crowd pressed to touch the Macedonian’s flag, she blurted out, “Good heavens! I would not touch that color for a thousand dollars.” One man in earshot quickly walked away. Another asked, “Is it possible, Mrs. Latrobe?” She turned to see who had caught her uttering such unpatriotic sentiments. She recognized Senator William Hunter, a Rhode Island Federalist, and so knew she was safe in her apostasy. Secretary Hamilton took up the flag from the floor for safekeeping, and Congressman Samuel Mitchill, a...