OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM.

ITs sponsors were England and America, its baptism fire, its cradle Fort McHenry, and its immediate occasion an incident in the war of 1812, the raison d'être of which has never been historically explained.

In the mid-August of 1814 the British fleet worked its way up the Patuxent River, nominally in pursuit of Barney's flotilla of seventeen sail, but really with the graver intention of raiding and destroying Washington.

The transports hove-to off Benedict, and landed the troops, whose route to the capital lay through Nottingham and Lower and Upper Marlboro'. At the latter place, on the night of the 22d, they halted, and Admiral Cockburn, General Ross, and a number of their officers billeted themselves in the house of Dr. Beanes, one of the leading magnates of the county.1

His estate was a beautiful one, his hospitality lavish, and of the quality that "called no man his enemy who sat 'neath his roof-tree and shared his salt;" so, although the "Demon of the Chesapeake" was his especial abhorrence, and the red cross of England his abomination, he treated his unwelcome and enforced guests with grave courtesy while they stayed, and thanked God when the red sun of morning shone on their backs, little knowing their plans of ruth and ruin.

A few days later the startling news went abroad of the destruction of Washington, the retreat of the enemy, and the fact that Dr. Beanes had been taken forcibly from his house, carried with the British aboard their transports, and thence transferred to the fleet to be sent no one knew where.

Chief Justice Taney, writing of the event many months after its occurrence, says,

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"Up to the present time the cause of Dr. Beanes's arrest is not precisely known. He is a gentleman of unspotted character and a nice sense of honor, incapable of doing anything that could have deserved the treatment he received."

1 "He was the leading physician of Upper Marlboro', an accomplished scholar, and his elegant house was selected for the quarters of Admiral Cockburn and some of the principal military officers of the expedition to Washington."-Letter from Chief Justice Taney to Mr. Nevins, of Baltimore.

This treatment, we are told by the same worthy authority, was characterized by "great harshness, and he was kept so closely guarded that his friends, who, as soon as they were apprised of his situation, hastened to British headquarters to solicit his release, were not even permitted to see him." Their request was peremptorily refused, and all they could learn was that he was still on board the fleet.

"Alarmed for his safety," Judge Taney continues, "Mr. West hastened to Georgetown (D. C.) and requested Mr. Francis S. Key to obtain the sanction of the government to his going aboard Admiral Cockburn's ship under a flag of truce to procure his release before the fleet sailed. It was then lying at the mouth of the Potomac" (having joined Cochrane's squadron that had been up and successfully "looted" the harbor of Alexandria), "but its destination was not definitely known. Mr. Key agreed readily to undertake the mission, and set at once about it."

So much history records, but from the family papers of the Hansons of Kent, the following facts, which are not unsuggestive, have been gathered.

A few days after Dr. Beanes's unwilling hostship, and while the thought of it still rankled, negro scouts and white fugitives came flying in to him with the news of the capture of Washington, the disaster at Bladensburg, the destruction of the Capitol, public buildings, and private property.

He was a man of hot, choleric temper and ardent patriotism, and the news fired both emotions. In the midst of it several gentlemen rode out to his country-seat to condole and talk over matters, and this added fresh fuel to the flame.

They adjourned to a beautiful and romantic spring on his plantation to drink confusion to the British, and consult as to retaliation and reprisal.

The longer they talked the madder they got, and at a heated pass in the discussion three foot-sore English soldiers straggled down the glen and asked for a drink of water. They were given the water and several glasses of very fine punch (as they afterwards testified), and then they were seized, bound, and marched into Marlboro', where they were locked up in the jail.

Glowing with rage, heat, and punch, the old cavalier reached home and peacefully ate his dinner, feeling he had done his country a service by ridding it of three invaders.

Meantime, however, the soldiers were missed from their command, and were easily traced to Dr. Beanes's plantation, for the British after burning Washington retraced exactly their line of march, and the corporal's guard soon discovered the circumstances, aided by a grinning countryman, who jeered the red-coats about "the three prisoners in Marlboro' jail."

That night (the 29th) a band of soldiery surrounded the mansion, burst into its hallway and into the doctor's room, hauled him from bed, and, refusing him time to dress, hustled him down-stairs and mounted him on a sorry mule.

Regardless of his rank and gray hairs, they added insult to injury by turning his face to the mule's tail, and by tying his bare feet under the animal's body. His hands they tied behind him, and in this plight they rode him through the night-and the August nights are cold on the bay-shore-to where the army was encamped some miles below, and where, as before stated, they shipped him on a transport.

The discovery by his friends of his whereabouts and the arrangements for the flag of truce consumed some days. Meantime, the fleet massed itself against Baltimore, the battle of North Point was fought, General Ross was killed, and on the morning of the 13th of September Mr. Key and Mr. Skinner (afterwards postmaster of Baltimore) put out on the cartel-ship "Surprise" for the "Mindon."

Arrived alongside, Mr. Key was put aboard the flag-ship, where he was courteously received and listened to while he stated his mission. In answer to his request, however, he was told that "the prisoner would be released only on condition of favor extended to the wounded English who lay prisoners of war at Baltimore."

This Mr. Key had full power to grant, and so stated; expressing, at the same time, the hope that as soon as the papers could be signed he and Dr. Beanes would be allowed to depart.

But to this, polite and emphatic response was made to the effect that neither of them could leave the ship until the following day, the detention being a military necessity.

He was permitted, however, to join the doctor, whom he found cooped up in a small cell-like hole and almost in an apoplexy from rage and discomfort.

The "military necessity" was soon made apparent, for the bombardment of Fort McHenry began at three o'clock that afternoon.

The odds were heavy against us, for the enemy's frigates, troopships, bomb-catches, rocket-ships, and ships-of-the-line numbered forty all told. And the "unknown quantity" added its integer of anxiety. Five thousand of "Wellington's Invincibles," two thousand sailors, and two thousand marines were known to have entered the battle of North Point, but what reserves there were no one knew. Three thousand two hundred Americans (principally militiamen) had been rallied to oppose the same. Seventeen hundred of these had actually been engaged, and all were exhausted by anxiety, loss of sleep, and bloodier causes, but they were full of enthusiasm, and the garrison proper of Fort McHenry, although small (about two hundred), numbered trained soldiers among its members, and their commander was the gallant Armistead.

The ball was opened by the "Meteor," the "Etna," "Terror," Volcano," and "Devastation" (bombs), and the "Erebus" (rocketship), while the heavy guns of the frigates and line-of-battles barked sullenly in between Covington City Battery (at the mouth of the Patapsco), and the fort responded so briskly that the firing was almost incessant.2

Little damage was done, however, the English either overshooting the mark or falling short of it, and the casualties were killed, two men, one officer (Lieutenant Claggett), one non-commissioned officer (Sergeant Clem); wounded, two men.

The enemy perceived this themselves, and at one time the commanders of the frigates "Severn," "Euryalus," "Havannah," and "Hebrus" signaled for permission to lighten ship, lay alongside the fort, and make a dash with the boats.

Fortunately, this was refused by Sir Alexander Cochrane, probably for the same reason given Colonel Brooke, when refusing to cooperate with him in an attack on Chinkapin Hill that same night.*

Meantime, our gunners served their pieces merrily, and cracked jokes right and left about the bad marksmanship of the English. They even stopped in the midst of the fiercest hurtling and crashing of projectiles to laugh at a rooster that flew up on the parapet and crowed lustily. As his strident voice rang out again and again over the water, they dropped their rammers, tore off their hats, and cheered him to the echo.

Under the heavy fire Baltimore was in a quiver, not merely figuratively, but actually, from the detonations, and as night drew on the anxious city kept watch on its roof-tops.

How the fight went no one could tell, but the black pall seaward was broidered with fiery arabesques and splendid mock-suns, and they knew that the end was not yet.

To the two Americans the time on board the "Mindon" was fraught with an agony of hope and fear.

Fastened like rats in a cage; no one to give them news, smothered in smoke, their only index of the struggle the shuddering timbers and trembling hull, the scream of shell and flare of "carcass" as they sped on their malignant mission, the hours crawled by.

They debated breathlessly at intervals, but generally they stood silent, with their faces pressed to the bull's-eye, watching the burning night, and straining their eyes towards the fort.

At daybreak the firing ceased.

They looked in each other's pallid faces.

One hundred and fifty rounds were fired from the fort.

3 Three hundred dollars covered the damages sustained.

See his dispatch to Mr. Croker, dated H. M. S. "Tonnant," Chesapeake, September 17, 1814.

What did it mean?

Had the flag fallen and defeat come upon us?

Again they strained their sight towards the fort. But a sea-mist hung between and blinded their vision.

White as a shroud it clung to the face of the waters, and in the silence they heard their hearts beat.

Just then the tide turned, and on its crest the sea-wind rode up the bay; it cleft the fog-folds for a moment, stirring and driving straight out a flag that hung heavy with the dews of September.

It was the Stars and Stripes!

Falling in each other's arms, they wept tears that honored their manhood, and gave way to sobs that were prayers of praise.

On fire with the rebound of hope deferred, glowing with patriotic fervor and noble enthusiasm, Key snatched a letter from his pocket and penciled on it the first verse of his immortal song.

That night, safe in Baltimore with his released friend, surrounded by the rejoicings of the delivered city, he completed it, and his uncle, Judge Nicholson, was so delighted with it that early in the morning (the 15th) he set out to have it published. He took it first to the printing-house of Colonel Benjamin Edes. But that sturdy patriot was still out with his troop, encamped at North Point. Then he took it to Captain Lester, and had it printed in the form of hand-bills and distributed.

It flew through the country on the wings of the morning, kindling in every breast a flame that burned pure and clear against the lurid background of war's greed and carnage, and from that day to this it has voiced a nation's love.

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McHenry stands to-day as then, a four-cornered bastion, with demi-lunes and counterscarp.

Above the postern is the date of its erection, 1794, and the defenses are so primitive and inefficient as to excite a smile. One Gatling-gun could kill the garrison, and a single Krupp cannon would knock the entire structure into the past tense.

Inside its inclosure are the old quarters, wherein are stationed the picked light infantry of the command,-eighteen families of children.

Three or four stunted peach-trees, an old cedar, and a few hardy roses are the only shade and shrubbery, and the back windows are on a hand-shaking line with the ramparts. The flag-pole occupies the same place as its historical predecessor, and a small gun stands near by, the military monitor that sounds the reveillé and tattoo of the sun. The gun-tracks are rusted; and the iron dogs, like toothless old hounds, "off duty" and stretched on the grass; and the few mortars

The grandfather of Lieutenant-Commander Benjamin Long-Edes, U.S.N., who was killed by a torpedo explosion at Newport a few years ago.