Evening Star Newspaper, April 5, 1925, Page 72

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C 'APRIL 5, 1925—~PART 5 Americans Accompany ' Wild Tribes of Persia on Their Migration First Foreigners Ever Permitted to Join Bakhtiari on the March in Search for Grass—Battle With Merian C. Cooper, American ex- plorer, newspaper and magazine writer, former Annapolis midship- man, captain in the American Army, lieutenant colonel in the Polish’ Army, and director of a for- eign relief administration, to- gether with Mrs. Harrison, the au- thor, and Ernest B. Schoedsack, Photographer, wera the first three foreigners ever to accompany or witness the great migration of the Persian tribes from Arabistan over Zardeh Kuh to the plateau of Isfahan. This is the statement of Amir Jang, prince of the Bakh- tiari, and Haidar Khan, chief of the Baba Ahmedi, which was Sworn to before the late Maj Robert W. Imbrie, vice consul of the United States, a few weeks before Maj. Imblrie's death at the hands of a riotous mob in Teheran. This is the first of two articles in which Mr. Cooper tells of ticipating in the great panoramic struggle for existence by the pas- toral tribes of this ancient race. BY MERIAN C. COOPER, HE grass dried up; and without grass the flocks and herds must die. Upon these animals depended both the shelter and food of the race—life itself. So, seeking gwass, th barbarian horde, carrying all its worldly goods, swept up out of the sun-baked plains of Arabistan toward a broad, swift and icy river, which must be swum, and toward week after week of strug- Eles, higher and higher, across the grim, forbidding zacros ranges, to come face to face with old Zardeh Kuh, that gigantic, snow-clad mon- archof the Persian Mountains Then they were to be confronted with its almost perpendicular snow surface—men, women and children— as a tremendous barrier between them and the wondrous valleys of the Isfahan Plateau beyond, green and soft and rich with the grass of life. Up over hill and mountain, on through desert and forest, beaten by storm and rain, sweating under a burning sun, shivering in glacial snows—over a thousand miles of wilderness, the migratory tribes of Persia, more than a million of them, one seventh of the people, were on the mo Pressing on and on—to gra At the camp of the Khans, Shushtar, at the end of March year, arrived Mrs. Marguerite E rison, the writer, Ernest B. ( Schoedsack, photographer, and 1. There was also Mustaufi, a soft- speaking, soft-living, slow-moving Persian gentleman, our host. It was at his house in Shushtar, the capital of Arabistan, that we were guests when a striking figure, overflowing with energy, with sparkling eyes and gleaming white teeth, appeared be- fore us. Five attendants followed him. In clear, though English, he said: Bakhtiari. My sent me to ask you to at vour service.” This, then, was one of the princes of the Bakhtiarl. Fifty thousand of his tribesmen we knew were camped in black tents along the 200-mile stretch of the foothills at the moun- tain range that dominated the east- ern horizon, two days' ride from Mustaufi’s door. Capt. Peel, a British political offi- cer in Ahwaz, 50 desert miles awa had sent the princes a message an- nouncing our visit. Rahim Khan was the answer to Capt. Peel's message and Rahim at once became a source of boundless delight to us. His knowledge of English came from the fact that he was educated in the Sy- rian Protestant College, now - the Amercian University of Beirut, where the curriculum apparently included American slang. * X ¥ % IDING to the camp next day under the escort of Rahim, as the sun was setting we swung around an el- bow in the foothills and beheld a lovely picture. Below the cliffs, where the bank of a swift-flowing river was golden-green, was pitched a camp of 50 many-colored tents. The amber glow lay like a shimmering veil on the black and orange and white and brown of them; it tinted and ‘dyed with its warm hue the black-cloaked figures, the steel of the rifie-barrels of scores of horsemen, the flocks of grazing sheep. All were covered with this golden light. Then, as darkness fell, we rode down into the camp and halted before & group of three tents—a reception tent and two sleeping tents. A camp- bed was produced from somewhere for Mrs. Harrison. “Shorty” and I were given rugs on Which to spread our bedding-rolls. A half-hour later Rahim came to say that his uncle, the Ilkhani (khan of the tribes), and his cousin, the II- begl (master of the tribes), were coming to call on us. We rem: ed in our reception tent. Then in walked the Ilkhani, a hale old man—a tribal prince who lived his life in camp among his people. The man who followed him was of the new generation—looking more like the city Persian than the chief of wild nomads. He, Amir Jang, the Tlbegi, was short and stout. His face was round as a moon. His little in- telligent black eyes snapped from be- hind gold-rtmmed glasses. He wore = huge solitaire diamond ring and a gold wrist-watch. “Salam alelkum!"—“Peace be with you!” said the two tribal princes. This s the greeting of all this part of the East—of Turkey, Persia, Arabia and the rest of Islam. “Aletkum sa- lam!"—“With you, peace!” we re- turned Through Rahim, after a long ex- ehangs of courtesies, we told the in last Har horty™) omewhat broken “I am khan of the isit him. Iam “l THOUGHT WHAT A STRANGE SIGHT IT MUST MAKE—WE THREE AMERICANS, WITH THE RUL- ERS OF THE WILDEST NOMAD TRIBES IN PERSIA." -y uncle, the Ilkhani, has | princes the reason for our visit. We ad come to beg permission to mi- grate over the mountains with one of their tribes. We should like to travel with one tribe, eat what they ate, they slept, really live their life At this, Amir hearty laughter. chuckled, in broken little black mustache glistening white teeth, “You go with one my tribes. But they no go Lynch road (the horse route over the moun- tains). They go ver-y, ver-y hard 10ad—so hard not any my family now living ever been that way foreigners ever been. Big moutains, woods, big river, then big, big mountain with plenty snow. And my people there men call ‘bears,’ they live so wild and hard. They drink sour milk, eat acorns and mutton. Ver-y, ver-y bad road.” And so it was decided that we were to go with one of Amir Jang's tribes. * % ok Jank broke into “All right” he English, as his waggled above hour after sunrise next day the camp already astir. In the center of a semi-circle of men sat a hunched figure on a rug spread on the grass. One man, gesticulating ve- hemently, stood before this still listener. “Yep,” said Rahim, who came up just then and saw us looking at this group. “That's the way I spend most my day. too. Talk, talk. Too much talk with us Bakhtiarl. But the Ilkhani, he must listen to more talk than any of us. He sits like that all day. every day. We have 250 tribes, and all give too much trouble. Poor old Ilkhani!" It seemed that the Ilkhani did work for his living. “What is life to me here now?" asked the young prince, turning to us with a gesture half sad and haif scornful. “Must T sit all day in a tent and say, ‘Beat that man,’ or, ‘The murderer must pay, fine “These people want nons of the things that I learned in your American school. What do they care for republics and votes and the equality of men? This life is their life, and they love it—to sleep on hard ground, to eat by camp fire, to fight with other tribes. What they want with civilization? “They want strong man, hard man, man who says, ‘You do this or I have you beaten until you die.’ Me, I am Bakhtiari, aleo, but 1 Jearned too much in American school. Now I lfke to go live on Broadway—theaters, plenty pretty girls, dance. I change places with you. You come be boss of Bakhtiari: I 0 dance on Broadway,” Rahim grinned. So goes the world. To be honest, noth- ing would please ma better than to run the Bakhtiari show or Rahim more than to “dance on Broadway." The Tlkhani and Amir Jang visited our reception tent.again a day or two later. 1 thought what a strange sight 0 sheep and a thousand-crown cruel man, of water past the sides: the paddles Tested idle; no dip nor roll nor turn. I looked at the shore, Ho, it was fiving, flving by! A white speck, up and down, up and down against a black mass on the short—all we could see of the old llkhani’s flowing white sleeves as he waved good-bye. And then that, too, was gone. The camp itself whisked round a turn and also disappeared. It was uncanny. All the world flashed by, but we stood still It was magical. Thus it felt to ride on & barge of the sking of a hundred goats. When we reached Shushtar we drew up to the shore. Down galloped a cavalcade of horses. The mayor had come running to bow to Jang. ROUTE OF THE GREAT MIGRA- TION PARTICIPATED IN BY MR. COOPER. we must make—the princes in black robes and we three Americans—all sit- ting cross-legged in a deep mountain gorge of the camp with the rulers of the wildest nomad tribes of Persia. Jang said he was off to Teheran to try to settle the dispute between the govern- ment and his tribes. He invited us to go as far-as Shushtar with him. ‘We said good-bye, and, followed by nearly all the camp, the Ilkhani and Amir Jang, one on each side of us, alked down to the edge of the river. A dozen yards from ehore floated a queer regal barge; a hundred goatskins blown up and fastened to the bottom of a light raft; this covered with rich Tugs; over the rugs, on four posts, & satin-and-yelvet canopy; _silk-covered pillows strewn underneath. The raft had been built overnight to float Amir Jang down the swift Karun to Shush- tar, 20 miles away. * X ¥ * \ HEN the barge, under paddles, had shot into midstream for a moment T thought we had stopped. No feeling of onward movement; no rush < And now we were back at Mustau- fi's. In the evening we walked by lanternlight, through the dirty, rough streets and came at last to a crumbling doorway. We went down a long, dark, arched alleyway and, of & sudden, found ourselves in a great and lovely court. It seemed like an- other world after the flith and smells outside. The graceful Oriental arches were now lighted, now shadowed by a line of candles gently touched by a oft, warm breeze, and overhead the diamond stars looked down to see their silver Images in a wide, fresh | pool. By the pool, surrounded by his courtiers, sat Amir Jang. At his shoulder stood a powerful, heavy fig- ure. Jang waved at him, saying: “This is the brother of my servant, Haidar, chief of the Baba Ahmedi tribe. He come to take you to live with my people. Everything all| ready.” “All ready!" TRat was good. Then, somewhers over against the moun- tains were the black tents of these tribesmen. They were the Baba Ah- medi, indeed, strongest and fergest of all the Bakhtiari. We set out for the camp of Haidar, but on the second day we learned l?ll he was at the Ilkhani's camp, waiting for us. Rahim came up to us when we Bad reached the latter point and at his heels stalked a man in a long brown coat, decorated with huge brass biit- tons. Under the bell-shaped hat, on the side of his head, hard eyes glared out of a heavy, lowering face. His jaw was powerful, his mouth brutal, His neck thick and brown and corded. “Haidar Khan,” said Shorty. So this was the chief of the five hundred “rifles” of the Baba Ahmedi. For thus the Bakhtiarl count their strength: by “rifles,” for men; by “tents,” for tamillies. And it was with him and his peo- ple that we were to go somewhere up through this roadless wilderness into the shadowy mountains beyond in the search for grass. * x x % HAT night at dinner, which we ate with Rahim off a rug on the ground, Haidar sat just within the flap of the tent and regarded us from under his heavy black brows, won- dering, 1 suppose, as much at us as we at him, and thinking, no doubt, what a devil of a lot of trouble his prince, Amir Jang, had forced on him by sending to his tribe these Christian strangers, to eat his bread and salt for so many weeks. Rahim was disconsolate. “My uncle has made me chief of this camp. T must see to the moving—everything. And more talk, talk, than ever,” he said. Dinner over, Rahim and Haidar went away. Shorty and I threw our bedding rolls on the turf under the stars and lay there talking with Mahommed our interpreter. Rahim’'s tent was near by. From it came the sound of a man pleading; then Rahim's voice, low, but shrill and penetrating. At that two guards burst out of the tent, dragging an elderly peasant. They threw him face downward on the ground. Whack! Screams! Whack! Then, before the stick could fall again, the prostrate man was shouting something over and over. The guard released him. The man knelt in front of Rahim, hands outspread, and then backed hastily away into the dark. “What's all this, now?" Shorty asked Mahommed. “That's the chief of a village,” he replied. “Rahim Khan told the chief to supply grain for the camp. At first the man swore there was not a bagful in all his village. But now he says he will bring everything quick. In a few minutes Rahim came ov to say good night. He smiled. hope the singing over at'm just now didn't disturb you, sald. . . . At daybreak T awoke. I looked about and then rubbed my eyes to make sure I was seeing straight. The noisy camp of the night befors had disappeared. Three tents only were standing. As 1 watched, two of these came down like lightnig, a group of horsemen driving pack animals rode away, and where had been that little town of canvas stood only Mrs. Har- rison's tent. Rahim had waited be- hind to say good-bve; then he, too, was gone. Of all the Ilkhani's camp there remained only Haidar, standing by his horse, and one of the Baba Ahmed!, whom he had given us for a camp attendant Three hours later we were riding into a long, narrow valley. A group of four black tents stood out on the floor at the bottom of the foothill, “Haidar Khan's camp,” said Mahom- med, Where were the 500 “rifies” of the tribe Haidar was supposed to com- mand? So I wondered, because of my fgnorance of tribal life. Mahommed explained. The tribes depend for ex- istence on their herds. Accordingly every part of their life is regulated by the requirements of these herds. Since the cattle and sheep and horses must have large grazing grounds, the families live well apart, to give them sufficient space. The Baba Ahmed! tribe, therefore, instead of being gathered into one big group, is scat- tered in family units for 20 miles down the narrow valleys. 1 looked up Haidar's valley. Yes, there, a mile away, was another 8roup of tents. I looked on to a point where the hills shadowed away into the horizon, and I knew that, if I could eee the thousand miles north- west from Arabistan to the Black Sea I should view all along the west- ern side of these great mountain ranges identical little groups of black tents at almost regular Intervals— hundreds of thousands of them, whole peoples living the ancient tribal life of our own Aryan forefathers. The migration of these nomads is nature's affair. The trouble is that she makes the- tribes dependent on grass for life, and then she doesn't Erow grass In one part of the coursry the year round. Here to the west of the mountains it is low and hot. Therefore there is plenty of vegeta- tion here in the Winter; but that vegetation {s withered up in the Sum- mer. = i tent he * ¥ *x ¥ INJOW: on the other side of the moun- tains it js high and cool. There- fore, there is plenty of grass there in the Summer; but thgt grass 18 killed by snow and ice in the Win- ter. So there you are. Twice a year, Spring and Fall, year in and year out, through the centurles. Nature has forced the tribes thus to fight their way back and forth across rivers and mountains and snow to reach the life-giving grass. Amir Jang had lent us two tents. These I had the men pitch on a nar- row shelf above Haidars camp. A reception tent had been put up for us, and there we dined with Haidar and his followers. Haidar, I found had nine brothers. “Aye,” sald he, “we ten are the strongest of all our people.” They certainly were the biggest men and had the hardest faces of any tribes- men we had yet seen. Ali Agha, the eldest brother, with grizzied mus- tache and a ‘smile, is chief. But he leaves the title and the work to Haidar. However, this does not change his actual power. Haldar, though, carrying the name of chief, must obey m, The day before the start the tent were down and only camp fires burned that pight among the crowded. cattle. Tomorrow we were to be off, all of us—men, women, children, our beasts and all our household goods. Not many of these household goods— a few rugs, pots and pans, a sack or two of grain and rice, the water pipes of the men, the tattered Korans to be kissed and pressed agalnst the forehead and then packed carefully away, a crude wooden cradle for each family and in nearly every cradle a baby, strapped in by horsebands. The Bakhtiari move light. Every- thing Is sacrificed to the driving of the beasts. The cattle were all brought in from the far grazing grounds in the afternoon. I have said that the tents were down. Well, they were not being packed for the journey. The tribes intended to leave them behind. They would store them away in some vil- lage bordering on the tribal country and would travel without tents. Yes, the tribes must travel light! Of the Bakhtiarl alone there were 80,000. They are called, as I have said, “mountain bears,” by the Per- sian townfolk. They overran Persia in 1909. As nearly as I could find out, 50,000 of them would move over the mountains now by five routes. About 5,000 were to go our way. Haldars tribe, our Baba Ahmedi, which num- bers several hundred, was among these 5,000. Besides the Bakhtlari, there are, of the Persian migratory tribes, the Lurs, Kurds, Kashkais, Kuhgelus, Baluchis and others, a millfon in all, who migrate in search of gr. * k % X S soon as a start was made I s it was going to be a great show. had never watched such a parade ip “IN THE MlI')VST”OFV' A TF.!H'(”R-M AD HERD OF ANIMALS my life. The hillslde swirmed with people and pack animals and with flocks of sheep and goats. The tribes were on the march! ¥ The crossing of the Karun River, a week later, was a remarkable battle 1 can't {magine a greater natural feat than the crossing of this river by the tribes. iz Consider it! Here was a river,a half-mile wide. Its waters were swelled to a rushing torrent by the melting snows of a hundred mountain peaks. The river was icy cold. It was filled with whirlpools, cross cur- rents, raplds. It was tearing through mountain gorges with cliffiike, jag- ged shores, and it was bridgeless and boatless, Now, here was the problem On, one side of this river were 5,000 people, With all their worldly goods and perhaps 50,000 animals. There were women here, children, babies. Tt pring and the herds and flocks had any number of baby animals. The people had no boats. But they must cross, and cross quickly, at that There was little or no grazing for the animals on their side of the river. They must cross: That was the problem. When T first rode along the rocky trall on the side of the mountain, on my way to the river to join Shorty, and saw the ter- rifio speed of the current and the jag- ged, short line on either side, T was almost ready to say, “It can't be done.” 1t would have given any army commander heart fallure. But I knew it could and would be done. For cen- turies, twice a year, the tribes have been crossing it. But how? the Torrent. Well, this was how. Every tribe had in its saddle bags quantities of goatskins. A score of skins was blown »p, tied and then fastened to one siie of rows of long sticks. A heavy carpet was laid on top. There was your raft. There was your boat for the women and children and baby animals. There were as many boats as you wanted. But of what use was a frail thing like this, unsteered and unsteerable, in that torrent river? It would seem to be swept down stream like a thistle, torn to pieces in the rapids, and every person aboard drowned ifi a minute. True enough. But soms wise old khan, in times befors the memory of the present tribes, riding along that river bank, with his starving people and animals walting for his wisdom to find & way to cross—he found the way. There is a place on the river where it swings to a great, perfect double 8. When the current comes out through that it ‘strikes the eastern shore with terrific force. But the current is a movable force strik- ing an immovable object. The mov- able force must give way. The cur- rent is thrown back from the rocks of the western shore, thrown back with a swing and a jerk, and sent shooting In a long, diagonal down- stream line, directly across to the other shore. | | - x ok % THAT old khan, riding there, those centuries agoy must have reined | in his horse and hailooed in delight ‘ when he saw how the current by its | very force was cheated of victory | over his people. He saw that all a man has 1o do is to paddle a raft out | from the shore directly into this cur- | rent, and presto’ with the speed of an | express train the raft is down the | river a mile and across. A similar | crogs current takes the raft back again for the next load. There's your way for the women and children! But you do not load half a hundred thousand bulky ani- mals on goatskin rafts; not in a week nor a month; no, nor, in fact, ever! The herds must be swum over. And somebody must swim with them. That's the men's game. But recall again that the river tor- rent is cold, snow-cold, fee-cold. 1| defy your strongest cross-channel | swimmer to plunge Into that stream, | fight a steer by the horns and swim it across, then retarn land then do it | | with | —haa | ried on down again and again, t or thirty times in & day But the Bakhtlar! do it. And this is the way they do it. Every man takes a pair of goatskins, blows them up and fastens them together at each end. He flings his goatskin float into the water and throws hime self upon it. He balances by putting one knes between the skins so th the lower part of hix leg rests in tha water. Thus hoth rms frea for awimming and fighting $ith erds, at the time his L is out of the water so that he does not succumb to cramps But it takes skill even to swim on goatskins, to say nothing of cross- Ing a torrent river in the midst of a terror-mad herd of anfmals it requires all an unpracticed man ean do even to stay on top of these stomach water-wings. I've tried it and I know. But it fa with them that the men of the tribes cross their herds, It was a show, days Short at legs and and stoma all and I moving watohed the gre tinuous action Long before dawn times it lasted once it went on women, squalli colts, goa cradles, babies skelter on the stream and off! Beaten with them, a half-do: into the has the down, ane. horses rafts, into the current and speed ing, speeding down the For five days without ceasing thus the tribes fought, and for many = day more the trbes beh had to battle on. But we were r. The, Baba Ahmedi had won through. But not without Every da dozens of animals—principally shee been drowned, and the las night the women of our camp we walling in the tent of the mother of a young tribesman who was car past the landing-plac ess rapids be right. For five rushing about cameras, ke down g0. More T sheep, donkevs, go. Outy ng, speed ream more nd into the piti (Copyrigh conomy Wave in Madison’s Day Made Burning of Capital Possible BY OLIVER P. NEWMAN. CONOMY in the White voluntarily advocated _and practiced by President Cool- idge, was a stern necessity a hundred years and more ago. Under Jefferson, Madison and Monroe the Congress was so economical in its attitude that the Chief Executive had & hard time to skimp along. The bullding was so scantily furnished that its interior presented a bare- barn-like appearance. All expense of upkeep had to be borne by the Presidents themselves. They retired from office penniless. In the matter of military protection the economical policy brought disas- trous and farcical results when the British swooped down on tie Little Capital, tumbled Its defenders over as if they had been tenpins, chased “Lit- tle Jim" Madison into Virginia, burned the public buildings, terrorized the inhabitants, and left as suddenly as they had come. As Phillp Freneau expressed it: A veteran host, by veterans led, With Ross and’ Cockburn at their head, They came, they saw, they burned and fied. The intimate detalls of the capture and burning of Washington, on Au- gust 24, 1814, furnish everything nec- essary for a comic opera of the rarest order. Imagine the cabinet council, with the harried and worried little Madison at its head, debating the news just received from Minister Gal- latin in London that a large force from Wellington's army, trained in the war against Napoleon, had em- barked for Chesapeake Bay, to join Admiral Cockburn's blockading squad- ron for an aggressive campaign up the peninsula to Washington or Bal- timore. In such a crisis the President turns to his Secretary of War, Gen. John Armstrong, a famous Revolu- tionary soldler: “The British come here!" Armstrong cries, with scorn. “What should they come here for? They would never be s0o mad as to make an attempt on ‘Washington. It is, therefore, sir, to- tally unnecessary to make any prep- arations for defense.” In spite of Armstrong’s advice a few precautions were taken. Gen. Wil- llam H. Winder was put in command of the military district, with about 900 soldlers from the 36th and 38th Regu- lar Infantry Regiments. One other long-headed act was performed. Three regiments of militia were drafted from Virginia, Pennsylvania and Maryland, with the stipulation that they would not be called into actlve service until the enemy appeared! The enemy soon appeared. On August 20 the smug complacency of the Capital City was rudely destroyed. A dusty rider dashed into town, galloped past the newly finished Cap- itol, raced through the swamp desig- nated as Pennsylvania avenue, halted before the famous Indian Queen Hotel, threw his reins to a black slave that hurried out to meet him and announced that a large British force, under Admiral George Cock- burn and Gen. Robert Ross, had landed at Benedict, 40 miles below ‘Washington, and was marching on the city. z hurried war council was held, with Armstrong still stoutly pooh- poohing the danger of attack and with President Madison, Secretary of the State Jamgs Monroe and Secge- tary of the Nafjy Willlam Jones run- ning around in circles. The town was in a panic because the peninsul campaign of the British had caused these troops to be known as “Cock- burn's Savages.” Commodore Barney's fleet had been sealed up in the Patuxent River and the panle- stricken naval Secretary now saved Cockburn any further annoyance from it by ordering its destruction. Accordingly, Commodore Barney re- luctantly set fire to his ships and beat a hurrjed retreat to Washington with his men and guns. * kK % \ORT Washington, designed by L'Enfant for the protection of the Capital, and situated on the Po- tomac bluffs 15 miles below the city, was abandoned without a shot at sight of the English. Armstrong continued to belittle the danger. “They will strike some- where,” he said, when couriers brought news that Cockburn was steadily advancing, “but they will not come here.” He added: “If they do, it will be a mere Cossack hur- rah, a rapid march and a hasty re- treat, as they are wholly unprepared for siege and investmen: When Gen. Winder appealed to his chief for istructions, in the event that the British should, after all, at- tack Washington, Secretary Arm- strong gave the following sage ad- vice: “I would assemble my force in the enemy’s front, fall quietly back to the House, Capitol, giving only that degree of resistance that invnelinr uit. When, S arrived at its (the Capitol's) front I would immediately put in battle my 20 pleces of artillery, give the di- rection and management of these to Barney and Peters, fill the upper part of the building and the adjacent buildings with Infantry. Regulars and Militia, amounting to 5,000 men, while my 300 Cavalry held themselves in reserve for a charge the moment a recoil appeared in the British col- umns of attack.” Such was the advice of the War Secretary for meeting a force of 6,000 veterans who had fought against Napoleon. Furthermore, he neglected to advise what to do in_case the British did no ‘“recoil.” More im- portant, he utterly failed to mention what course Gen. Winder might pur- sue if attacked by rockets instead of bullets These two omissions proved serious. The British did mot recoll, perhaps for the reason that their enemy fled at their approach, and they shot at the raw troops with Congreve rockets, a new-fangled im- plement of war resembling the mod- ern sky-rocket. Instead of sending their rockets into the air, however, the English sent them scooting into the faces of the opposing spldiers Never having seen or heard of such unethical warfare, the American troops threw down their arms and ran in confusion. The “battle” was fought at Bladens- burg. Probably no force in military history ever had so many high-rank- ing commanders. And perhaps this had something to do with the result. President James Madison was on the field in supreme command—when the conflict started. He was accompanied by Col. James Monroe of Virginia, a distinguished Revolutionary soldier, and now Secretary of State. Present in advisory capacities also were Gen. Armstrong, the sage War Secretary; Attorney General Richard Rush and Secretary of the Navy Jones. Gen. Windsor's job must have been pleas- ing, under such circumstances. How- ever, the high officials did not stay long. As the rockets began to sizzle into the American ranks and the green soldiers started running away by hundreds, President Madison turned to his cabinet members and said: “Come, Gen. Armstrong; come, Col. Monroe, let us go and leave it to the commanding general.’” This heroic epigram caused a New York newspaper to appeal to some Walter Scott to pen a poem on the battle of Bladensburg, to be fittingly concluded with the following words: “Fly, Monroe, fly! Run, Armstrong, ‘" “run! Were the last words of Madison.” The battle was fought early in the morning, and all day the city was the scene of the wildest confusion, “militia companies marching in and then out upon the pike; long trains of wagons laden with the Govern- ment's records, household effects; women and children hastening over the bridge toward the Virginia wilds; a mob of the lower orders on foot; swift courfers dashing in ftom the front; thunder of guns and roll of musketry: littla troops of gentfmen sightseers dashing in from the field. | and then fugitives.” the disorderly swarm of * X & HE British, with Cockburn at their head, reached the Capitol late in the afternoon and for a time con- tented themselves with shooting into it, until the walls were riddled and the windows broken. Finally Admiral Cockburn entered the building and hundreds of his army followed, whereupon he held a mock session in the House chamber. Seating him- self in the Speaker's chair, he rappe for order and sai vShall this harbor of Yankee democ- racy be burned? All for it say ‘aye.’ A chorus of “ayes,” mingled with cheers and yell greeted his ques- tion. He accordingly gave the order Furniture was gathered into piles paper from the Library of Con- | gress was used for kindling, he torch was applied and in a short time the Capitol bullding, which had re- quired 15 Years to construct and had just been finished, was in ruins, only its blackened walls standing. Cockburn next led his troops to the White House, which sturdy Dolly Madison had not left until late after- noon. There he found a dinner all prepared and set out on the table, where Mrs. Madison and her house- hold had left it at the last minute. The admiral and his staff first ate the dinner and then gave the word to his. troops to fire fhe building. By sundown of that Summer evening the | White House was also in ruins and the night was made lurid by flames from ‘the other public buildings, of which the patent office was the only one spared. Admiral Cockburn personally pick- ed out and marked for destruction | the building of the National Intel- ligencer, an important newspaper of that time, which had vigorously criticized him for the conduct of his troops along the coast. “Be sure,” he ordered, “that all the Cs are destroved, so that the rascals can have no further means of abus- ing me as they have done.” One herole figure stands out of the serfo-comedy of that 24th of August It fis Mistress Dolly Madison, to whom the attack was all tragedy Her journal of the time not only records her own sensations, but also gives a vivid picture of some of the events themselves. “My husband * * * inquired anx- fously whether I had courage to re- main n the presidential house till his return, and on my assurance that 1 had no fear but for him and the suc- cess of our Army he left mée, be- seeching me to take care of myself and of the éabinet papers, public and private. I have sinco received two dispatches from him. The last is alarming, because he desires that 1 shall be ready at a moment's notice to enter my carriage and leave the city. T am accordingly ready. I have pressed as many cabinet papers into | York for trunks as would fill one carriage. Our private property must be sacri- ficed, as agon am determined M, dison_ s pany me, ward hir us. My fts not and s 1 hear of mu Disaffec: nds are C. with his hundred m stationed as a guard in t “Wednesday Since sunrise I glass in watching with ng to discern dear husband alas! I ca military w s if there spirit to fig for transpo he wearied the appr d his descry onl rdering in were a lack o r their owr “Thres o'cl will you we. have had a battle near Bladensburg and I within sound of Madison comes n him! Twe dust, come to bid me flee. for him. At this late hou has been procured; 1 have ed with plate and most val able articles belonging to t Whether it wi the Bank of the hands of the events must determ r triend Mr. Carroll has come to hasten my departure and he humor with me b walting until the Gen. Washington requires to wall. (She re to portrait of Washingte Stuart, still in the White Housa.) This process is found too tedious for these perilous mome I have order- ed the frame to be broken and t canvas taken out. It and the precious portrait is hands of two gentlemen safe keeping must leave this house, ing army will make in by ng up directed to take. groups directions placed from N And now I the retreat- prisoner I am shall be the road re 1 tomorrow I cannot THE Anti-s gt par d their n papers, n erous an made great fun of the of the Government undisciplined Army Madison. One of them pu parody of “John Gilpin's which Mrs. Madison dress her husband as follows Sister Cutts and Cutts and T And Cntts® children thr Will A1l the coach—and you must ride On horseback after we It was no joke for Mre. Madison the time. Her destination was friend’s house in Virginia, but befora she reached Georgetown she heard that the British had not yvet entered Washington. Accordingly she order- ed her driver to turn around and take her back the White House whera she insisted she would wait for Mr. Madison Before reaching the Executive Mansion she met her husband, on horseback, hunting for (Continued on Sixth Page.) powerful, helplessness te flight of lished a Ride.” in to ad- he ro of 1t and t to “SEVEN BUILDINGS,” AS THEY APPEARED IN 1815.16, WHEN PRESIDENT AND MRS. MADISON '0CGCU- PIED CORNER AS A TEMPORARY WHITE HOUSE. THESE BUILDINGS ARE STILL STANDING AT NORTHWEST CORNER OF NINETEENTH %5!& AND PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE.