THE CONCORD IN THE SEAS OF RUSSIA AND EGYPT.
THE stormy administration of Andrew Jackson, which began in 1829, and
the vigorous foreign policy which he inaugurated, or which devolved upon
him to follow up, promised activity if not glory for the navy. The
boundary question with England, and the long-standing claims for French
spoliations prior to 1801, also pressed for solution.
The pacific name of at least one of the vessels selected to bear our
flag, and our envoy, John Randolph of Roanoke, into Russian waters,
suggested the olive branch, rather than the arrows, held in the talons
of the American eagle. The _Concord_, which was to be put under Perry’s
command, was named after the capital of the state in which she was
built. She was of seven hundred tons burthen and carried eighteen guns.
She was splendidly equipped, costing $115,325; and was destined, before
shipwreck on the east coast of Africa in 1843, to the average life of
fifteen years, and thirteen of active service.
Perry was offered sea-duty April 1. Accepting at once, he received
orders, April 21, to command the _Concord_. By May 15, he had settled
his accounts at the recruiting station, and was on the _Concord’s_ deck.
He wrote asking the Department for officers. He was especially anxious
to secure a good school-master and chaplain. In those days, before naval
academies on land existed, the school was afloat in the ship itself, and
daily study was the rule on board. Mathematics, French and Spanish were
taught, and Perry took a personal interest in the pupils. In this
respect he was the superior even of his brother Oliver, whose honorable
fame as a naval educator equals that as a victor.
Leaving Norfolk, late in June, a run of forty-three days, including
stops for visits to London and Elsineur, brought the _Concord_ under the
guns of Cronstadt, August 9. Mr. Randolph spent ten days in Russia, and
then made his quarters in London.
The honors of this first visit on an American ship-of-war, in Russian
waters, were not monopolized by the minister. While at Cronstadt, the
Czar Nicholas came on board and inspected the _Concord_, with
unconcealed pleasure. In return, Perry and a few of his officers
received imperial audience at the palace in St. Petersburg, and were
shown the sights of the city—the “window looking out into
Europe”—which Peter the Great built. Being invited to come again, with
only his interpreter and private secretary, Chaplain Jenks, Perry
acceded, and this time the interview was prolonged and informal. The
Autocrat of all the Russias, and this representative officer of the
young republic, talked as friend to friend. At this time, Alexander, who
in 1880 was blown to pieces by the glass dynamite bombs of the
Nihilists, was a boy twelve years old. Nicholas complimented Perry very
highly on his naval knowledge; remarked that the United States was
highly favored in having such an officer, and definitely intimated that
he would like to have Perry in the Russian service. The
chaplain-interpreter gives a pen sketch of the scene. Both Captain Perry
and the Czar were tall and large; both were stern; Captain Perry was
abrupt, so was the Czar. They all stood in the great hall of the palace
(the same which was afterwards dynamited by the Nihilists). The Czar
asked a great many questions about the American navy, and Captain Perry
answered them. Professor Jenks translated for both, using his own
phrases; and, to quote his own description, “sweetening up the
conversation greatly.”
These interviews made a deep impression upon the young chaplain. As he
said: “The Czar had very remarkable eyes, and he had such a very
covetous look when he fixed them on Captain Perry and myself, that I was
very anxious to get out of his kingdom.” The young linguist felt in the
presence of the destroyer of Poland, very much as the “tender-foot”
traveller feels when invited to dine with the border gentleman who has
“killed his man.” The professor politely declined the Czar’s invitation
to become his superintendent of education, as did Perry the proposition
to enter the Russian naval service.
Nicholas I., one of the best of despots, was the grandson of Catharine
II. By this famous Russian queen, had been laid the foundation of that
abiding friendship between Russia and the United States. To this
foundation, Nicholas added a new tier of the superstructure. King George
III. of Great Britain had, in 1775, attempted to hire mercenaries in
Russia to fight against his American subjects. Queen Catharine refused
the proposition with scorn, replying that she had no soldiers to sell.
While this act compelled the gratitude of Americans to Russia, it forced
King George to seek among the shambles of petty princes in Germany.
Another friendly act which touched the heart of our young republic was
the liberal treaty of 1824, the first made with the United States. This
instrument declared the navigation and fisheries of the Pacific free to
the people of both nations. Indirectly, this was the cause of so many
American sailors being wrecked in Japan, and of our national interest in
the empire which Perry opened to the world.
The warm sympathy existing between Europe’s first despotism and the
democratic republic in America, is a subject profoundly mysterious to
the average Englishman. He wonders where Americans, who are antipodal to
Russians in political thought, find points of agreement. In Catharine’s
refusal to help Great Britain in oppressing her colonies, in liberal
diplomacy, in the emancipation of her bondmen, and the abolition of
slavery and serfdom, in the sympathy which covered national wounds, and
in mutual sorrow from assassination and condolence in grief, the
relation is clearly discerned. The cord of friendship has many strands.
These interviews, and the honors shown the captain of the _Concord_, by
the personal presence of the Czar on his ship, did not serve in allaying
the invalid envoy’s jealous temper. The mainmast of the vessel needed
repairs, and she lay at anchor six days—long enough for Randolph to
indite despatches homeward, one of which was a spiteful letter to the
President, blaming Captain Perry. These were brought by Lieutenant
Williamson on Sunday night, and at 4 A. M. sail was made for Copenhagen.
After much heavy weather, and a boisterous passage, Copenhagen was
reached September 6.
We may dismiss in a paragraph this whole matter of Randolph’s connection
with the _Concord_. After his return home he lapsed into his
speech-making habits. He indulged in slanders and falsehoods, asserting
that the condition of the sailors was worse than that of his own slaves,
and the discipline, especially flogging, severer than on the plantation.
Perry and his officers heard of this, and on February 16, 1832, sent an
exact report of the correction administered, proving that Randolph’s
assertions were unfounded. Supported by his own officers, who
voluntarily made flat contradiction of Mr. Randolph’s assertions, Perry
convicted the erring Virginian of downright falsehood. Perry was careful
to set this matter in its proper light, and two sets of his papers are
now in the naval archives. No censure was passed upon him. His conduct
was approved, for Randolph in addition to his disagreeable behavior, had
exceeded his authority. It would be idle to deny, what it is an honor to
Perry to declare, that the discipline on the _Concord_ was very strict.
Flogging for certain offences was the rule of the service, not made by
Perry but a custom fixed long before he was born. As a loyal officer,
Captain Perry had no choice in the matter. Whenever possible, by
persuasion, by the substitution of a reprimand for the cat, he avoided
the, then, universal method of correction. At all the floggings, every
one who could be spared from duty was obliged to be present. The logs of
the _Concord_ and of all the vessels commanded by Perry show that under
his discipline less, and not more, than the average of stripes were
administered. Perry went to the roots of the matter and was more anxious
to apply ounces of prevention than pounds of cure. The cause of the
offences which brought the cat to the sailors’ back was ardent spirits.
He, therefore, used his professional influence to have this ration
abolished to minors, and by his persistence finally succeeded. By the
law of August 29, 1842, the spirit ration was forbidden to all under
twenty-one years old—money being paid instead of grog. As a man, he
personally persuaded the sailors to give up liquor and live by
temperance principles. In this noble work he was remarkably successful,
and the _Concord_ led the squadron in the number of her crew who
voluntarily abandoned the use of grog. Hence, fewer floggings and better
discipline.
From Copenhagen the run was made to Cowes, Isle of Wight, September 22,
and thence to the Mediterranean. At Port Mahon the _Concord_ joined the
squadron. The autumn and early winter were spent in active cruising, and
in February we find Perry at Syracuse. Ever mindful of an opportunity to
add stores of science, he made a collection of the plants of Sicily and
forwarded it to the Massachusetts Horticultural Society. A box of other
specimens was sent to the Brooklyn Navy Yard.
Leaving Syracuse, February 27, for Malta, and touching at this island,
Captain Perry sailed, March 13, for Alexandria, having on board the
Reverend and Mrs. Kirkland and Lady Franklin and her servants. Her
husband, Sir John Franklin, afterwards world-renowned as an Arctic
explorer, was at this time taking an active part in the Greek war of
liberation. Perry’s acquaintance with the noble lady deepened into a
friendship that lasted throughout his life. It was, most probably,
through her admiration of the discipline and ability of the American
officers and crews, that she, in after years, appealed to them as well
as to Englishmen to rescue her husband. Nevertheless, as Chaplain Jenks
noticed, the rose had its thorn. “Captain Perry had a trial of his
patience with Lady Franklin, whom he took on board when he went to the
Mediterranean. Lady Franklin was full of her husband; and, of course, at
each meal the whole company had to hear theories and successes and
memories repeated on the one theme. Captain Perry bore it all with great
gentleness.”
Arriving at Alexandria, March 26, the _Concord_ remained until April 23.
The officers of the ship were invited to dine with Mehemet, the Viceroy
of Egypt, afterwards the famous exterminator of the Mamelukes and of the
feudal system which they represented and upheld. He had conquered
Soudan, built Khartoum, and founded the Khedival dynasty. The officers
were splendidly entertained by this latest master of the “Old House of
Bondage.” The thirteen swords, presented to the party, were afterwards
sent to Washington and placed in the Department of State. These weapons,
still to be seen in the section devoted to curiosities, are of exquisite
workmanship. The “Mameluke grip” was afterwards adopted on the
regulation navy swords.
The _Concord_, raising anchor, April 3, sailed for Milo, where the
famous statue of Venus had been found a few weeks before, and passed
Candia, going thence to Napoli, the capital of Greece, saluting the
British, French and Russian fleets, and the Greek forts. On his way to
Smyrna, a rich American vessel received convoy. Another was met which
had been robbed the night before by a party of fifty pirates in a boat.
In hopes of catching the thieves, and naturally enjoying a grim joke,
Perry put a number of sailors and marines in hiding on the richly-laden
merchantman, hoping to lure the pirates to another attack. The vessel,
however, got safely to Paros without special incident of any kind. He
then visited a number of the robbers’ haunts and scoured the coasts with
boat parties, but without securing any prizes. The _Concord_ then went
to Athens to bring away the Rev. Mr. Robertson, an American missionary
there, together with the property of the American Episcopal Mission,
which had been broken up by the war.
In accordance with the excellent naval policy of President Jackson, our
flag was shown in every Greek and Turkish port. Wool, opium and drugs
were the staples of export carried in American vessels, and most of
those met with were armed with small cannon and muskets. Arriving at
Port Mahon, the home of our military marine, June 25, 1832, Perry
reported a list of the vessels convoyed. It was found that in the
eighty-two days from Alexandria, the _Concord_ had visited twelve
islands, anchored in ten ports, and that the ship had lain in port only
sixteen days, being at sea sixty-four days. As strict sanitary
regulations had been enforced, the health of the crew was unusually
good.
At the transfer of the few invalids and of those whose terms of service
had expired, the bugler struck up the then new, but now old, strain of
“Home, Sweet Home,” which brought tears to many of the sailors’ eyes.
The sight, so unusual, of a crying sailor, suggested to a visitor on
board that these tears were of sorrow for leaving the _Concord_, than of
joy for returning home. The surrounding cliffs sent back the notes in
prolonged and saddened echoes. The heart-melting Sicilian air, without
whose consecrating melody, the stanzas of John Howard Payne might long
since have sunk into the ooze of oblivion, seemed then, as now, the
immortal soul of a perishable body.