Dolley Madison & the War of 1812: America's First Lady by Libby Carty McNamee

Author:Libby Carty McNamee [McNamee, Libby Carty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sagebrush Publishing
Published: 2021-08-23T22:00:00+00:00

President Madison:

The British are in full march for Washington. Have the materials prepared to destroy the northern bridges and the Navy Yard. And you better remove the records. Our militiamen shall sleep on the floor of the Hall of Representatives tonight.

—Sec of State Monroe

“Dear God, this is it,” breathes Jemmy, his face ashen. “I never should’ve trusted Armstrong.”

Needless to say, the rest of our night is sleepless. Our gnashing of the teeth is interspersed with constant tossing and turning. At dawn, the sun has the nerve to rise like it’s an ordinary day, already sending off more scorching rays of heat. Kicking off the damp sheets that are twisted into knots, we force our weary bodies out of bed, and kneel. At this point my sore knee is the least of my concerns. We beseech God to show mercy on our young country. Today we must face our worst fears. The same British army that defeated Emperor Napoleon now advances upon tiny Washington City.

“Dearest, I’m sending word to Mr. Pleasanton over at the State Department to take action.” Jemmy looks over at me, his bloodshot eyes threatening to spill over in a waterfall.

“Why? What does that mean?” I grab his arm, dreading his response.

He holds his breath for a moment and then releases it. “We must move the Founding Documents to a safe location.”

“Dear God, has it really come to this?” I can hardly breathe.

“Not to worry, my dear. It’s just a precaution, but we can’t risk losing the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution or the Bill of Rights.” He purses his lips together. “Now I must go with Armstrong and Winder to join the troops in Bladensburg.”

“But darling, are you sure it’s safe for you there? Shouldn’t you stay back?”

“It may not be the most prudent move, but it’s the right thing to do. I can’t ask our militiamen to risk their lives on the battlefield if their president is too afraid to show his face there.” He shrugs. “Gallatin lent me some dueling pistols.”

Convinced my bookish husband has lost his mind, I lose my patience. “Make sure to stay back! You are not a solider. You’ve never even fired a musket because of your epilepsy. You are our president. The most important thing is for you to stay alive and out of enemy hands. Just think of the morale if something awful happens to you.” I swallow a lump in my throat. “Like becoming their prisoner—or worse.”

“Yes, dear. You’re right, as always.” He holds my hand and asks in a husky voice, “Do you have the courage?”

Putting a hand to his chest, he stops himself. “I apologize, my darling. You are the bravest person I know, including myself.” He pauses again. “But I wonder if you have the firmness to remain here until I return. I can arrange an escort to Virginia now if you would like.”

I don’t hesitate for a second. “I have no fear but for you and the success of our Army.” That is God’s honest truth.

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