For the small port Baltimore Town, the War for Independence offered great economic opportunity and little violence, unlike the experience of most other cities across the colonies. Living in a backwater village, Baltimoreans did not share in the war experience in the same way as did the majority of their compatriots. Consequentially the fruits borne from that War also differed. While the former colonies began to understand themselves as states in new nation, Maryland lagged behind in developing a strong feeling of national consciousness. Pride in one’s personal achievements, family lands, clipper ship, or hometown, was usually stronger that any national pride.
By the opening of the nineteenth century, however, this development of national identity came into clearer view. In a little over a decade, Baltimore found itself embroiled in “the Second War for Independence,” as many understood it: the War of 1812. Ironically, as other states were torn apart by regionalism and sectionalism, mostly due to politics surrounding the war, Baltimore was united.
Unlike the Revolution, this war hit home, in more ways than one. Baltimore seamen found themselves in constant conflict with the Royal Navy and in September of 1814 the British came right up to the doorstep of the city and threatened total annihilation. This intense personal contact with and experience of the War of 1812 catalyzed the development of a national consciousness in a truly revolutionary way in the city and surrounding areas. Division was not totally eradicated, as it never will be, but the Battle revealed to the people that if sectionalism divided them they would fall, but united they stood triumphant. Even prior to the Battle, as the city was torn between different influences coming from the North and South, the region was pushed to grasp at nationalism for a source of stability and pride. Looking internally, Baltimoreans saw division and turmoil, but by looking outwards to their ideal of a nation, whether it existed or not, gave them solace and hope that the potential for greatness actually existed. As September 1814 approached, the city was already charged with nationalism and just needed the spark to light the flame.
The impact of the war, and particularly the Battle of Baltimore, transformed people in such way that it appears that Baltimoreans of all rank embraced and participated in this new perspective of understanding themselves, not only as individual persons associated with particular trades, families or towns, but in an ever increasing way as Americans with a real and true relation to not only their home, but to their country.
To express this burgeoning conception of identity, Baltimoreans fashioned those things which surrounded them, from words to buildings, to reflect their thoughts and feelings. In this work I will explore this phenomenon of identity and nationalism in Baltimore, particularly through the medium of architecture. First I will present the social, political and economic context that laid the groundwork for nationalism. Then, in the second part, I will examine the expressions of changing identity found in the construction of monuments and buildings, both in the design and execution of the works. I intend to explain how architecture served the city as one of the most powerful means of expression both before and after the war. The construction of buildings and monuments became a way for the people to master the power of stone. That power, with its stability, force, and strength, allowed the patriotic citizens to immortalize their nationalistic sentiments by and embodied their ideas within it. I hope to concurrently reveal not only the local, but also the national impact of this process while illuminating the unique situations which gave rise to nationalism and its expressions in Baltimore.
In doing this it is important to remember the people behind the architecture, both the individuals and groups who gave this life to inanimate structure. The stories of men such as Charles Ridgely, John Eager Howard, the Carroll family and others illuminate the homes and other buildings they built or commissioned. …..
Many of these men came from families from England or Ireland who had first come to the southern regions of the Bay and eventually bought property further north as more and more immigrants came. Many of these families first made their money in law or trade.
Baltimoreans were not content to simply let their new burst of Post-Battle patriotism merely be a thing of high-sounding words. They desired to capture the spirit and immortalize it for posterity. They wanted to ensure that their “patriotic zeal” would never die and that they would never forget that they, the freemen, would never be slaves, rather they would hold “‘Tis glorious in our country’s cause to die.”
To accomplish this goal, the citizens of Baltimore set to memorializing the events, people, and thoughts through a number of mediums. Music, poetry, prose, art, even furniture and clothing, all became servants to this task. But perhaps the strongest and most lasting of all was that of architecture. Through this channel, the people literally set their ideals in stone in a public setting visible to every man, thus best achieving what the set out to accomplish.
Historiography
Present day scholarship on colonial Baltimore as well as the period from the Revolution up to the War of 1812 is nearly nonexistent, which poses a considerable problem for any attempts to compare the effects of the Revolution to the War of 1812. There are some older works; the best that exist were written by local historians in the nineteenth century. In discussing the matter with the chief Maryland librarian at the Enoch Pratt Library in Baltimore, he agreed that material on this period is hard to come by. The best he could offer to assist my quest was Schraf's 1879 History of Maryland from the Earliest Days. Fortunately Francis Scott Key secured the study of the Battle of Baltimore and War of 1812. A small canon of works on this subject can be found quite easily; however even these works are not the most useful since they tend to be strictly military histories.
My interest, however, is not in the movement of troops, but in the movement of feeling and thought. Therefore I have looked outside of the immediate locale to the broader setting of the country. There I have found other expressions and understandings of national identity which are similar in their basic concepts and intents, but yet quite different. Other scholars such as David Hackett Fischer, Philip Deloria, and David Waldstreicher understand that the intangible must often be expressed tangibly in order to have any power over people. Each scholar defines and explains nationalism and if manifestations in unique ways and scenarios.
David Hackett Fischer studies the blending of cultures, folkways and their cross influences. In Liberty and Freedom: A Visual History of America's Founding Ideas he explores the power of art and material culture in expressing otherwise intangible ideas. He studies the role the concepts of liberty and freedom played in becoming folkways vital to American life and identity. Fischer believes that “most Americans do not think of liberty and freedom as a set of texts, or a sequence of controversies, or a system of abstractions. They understand these ideas in another way, as inherited values that they have learned early in life and deeply believe.” He states that these values must be studied “by the same methods that any ethnographer would use to study any folkway. A folk belief can be studied from the inside and the outside. We know it from the inside be reenacting it in our minds, and we test the accuracy of that reenactment by studying it empirically from the outside.” His work, which spans from the earliest days up to the present, has been useful interpreting the material culture left behind by the early nineteenth century inhabitants of Baltimore. His method of reenacting thoughts and then testing the accuracy by empirical evidence in the forms of words, images, and actions, is nearly exactly that which I hope to use in my own study of nationalism in Baltimore. By “reenacting” the thoughts and experiences of the citizens of Baltimore between the American Revolution and immediate aftermath of the War of 1812 and then comparing them with the words, images, and records of actions left behind by those people, I believe that an actuate understanding of nationalism in Baltimore may be found.
Similar to Fischer’s work, David Waldstreicher’s In the Midst of Perpetual Fetes has been particularly helpful in identifying expressions and memorializations of self. While Fischer’s focus is broader and more material, Waldstriecher turns to the study of celebrations and rituals, such as parades, to understand nationalism. From his perspective: “In their rituals and their rhetoric, the American revolutionists created a new public called the ‘nation.” He also spends a good deal of time considering the nature of nationalism and all which it entails. Waldstreicher also provides a well grounded explanation of the political setting of this movement. He argues that regionalism emerged during the two and a half decades following the ratification of the Constitution thus leading to the tense domestic politics of the War of 1812. Baltimore, however, was torn, in a way characteristic of the state of which I will address later. Unlike New England or the ‘true’ south, Marylanders were torn apart by these politics that contributed to regionalism elsewhere. Instead, the effect was the opposite: regionalism was broken down, and Baltimoreans turned to nationalism.
In treating the subject of nationalism, Waldstreicher is very thorough. He explains: “Nationalism, the ideology of the ‘imagined community,’ is certainly an abstraction, but it is imagined and practiced locally in distinct, changing ways by different groups for a variety of purposes. How can we do justice to a history of something so imaginary and yet so grounded?” To answer his own question, Waldstreicher offers caveat to those who would try to answer that question by focusing on theory rather than practice:
‘National Character’ was a way of understanding the relationship between the citizen, or national subject, and the state, or national government…If we try too hard to uncover the metaphysics of national identity, we become prisoners of it, as students of national character often have. We lose sight of the histories, global and local, of which the nation is only a part. Here it is less important to theorize some timeless structure of national identity than to uncover its uses in particular moments and movements. In doing so it is helpful to remember that the ‘the nation’ is never just an idea or a thing; it is also a story.
For my purposes, it would be fitting to add “monuments” after “moments and movements” in Waldstreicher’s list as I intend to examine them and similar structures in such a way. By studying the “how,” the particular uses of architecture, instead of fretting over the “what,” the metaphysics of the phenomenon, we can actually see a clearer image of the entire picture. In fact the study of the “how” also leads to further understanding of the “what.” As the subjects of Waldstreicher’s study turned to parades and political ritual to articulate their nationalistic sentiments, and the people of Deloria’s work used Native American imagery to symbolize the same, [NEED TO WORK DELORIA BACK IN] the citizens of Baltimore in the early nineteenth century made reflections of classicism, specifically in architecture, their mode of expression.
But why use architecture as a medium to convey nationalism, particularly why build public monuments of stone? The great late-nineteenth-early-twentieth century social critic, historian, and author, G. K. Chesterton once wrote:
Architecture is a very good test of the true strength of a society, for the most valuable things in a human state are the irrevocable things…And architecture approaches nearer than any other art to being irrevocable, because it is so difficult to get rid of. You can turn a picture with its face to the wall; it would be a nuisance to turn that Roman cathedral with its face to the wall. You can tear a poem to pieces; it is only in moments of very sincere emotion that you tear a town-hall to pieces.
Indeed, this very understanding of architecture gives it its power. The essence of its strength is found in its immutability. Many things last for a little while, but buildings and other structures often last for generations.
[LOOK AT ST GEORGE]
Buildings serve many practical purposes. They house people, businesses, supplies, and place of worship. They are nearly indispensible to society – certainly so for any region of the world that experiences harsh and changing weather. As Chesterton implied buildings at least those coming out of the tradition of Europe, such as those in question here, are permanent. Usually they are built to last generations, and do so quite well. Thus their architects typically put a good deal of thought into their design – not only their structure, but their aesthetics as well. Their exteriors are always in public view, and sometimes so are the interiors. Architecture therefore becomes a venue for the display of tastes of architects and builders; but for those who care to try, architecture can express more than taste. A skilled architect can convey his ideas and values through his buildings just as Fischer and Waldstreicher’s subjects could craft their moments and movements into expressions of their thoughts. Then, once this allegorical language of stone has been mastered, structures become valuable in and of themselves. They need not house any person or object, only thoughts and ideas. Thence comes the creation of the public monument – an impractical structure by most accounts, but a highly symbolic one, and one which the people of Baltimore made so important to their city.
[ST GEORGE’s Mystical Understanding] In this age, buildings were more than mere structures: they were allegory – signs and expressions of status, thought, and feeling. Thus they were functioning, practical parts of daily life while perpetually conveying the less concrete aspects of life.
Fischer most eloquently articulates the important relationship between the common man and the impact of symbolic imagery on him:
“[The common man] did not write extended texts and treatises on liberty and freedom that might be analyzed by academic methods. But they left an abundance of evidence that might be studied in other ways…they carried images of liberty and freedom into battle. Complex symbols of these ideas were painted on their battle flags, etched into the musket stocks, carved upon their powder horns, and embroidered on their coats and hats…In a strict and literal sense [they] envisioned their ideas of liberty and freedom. They tended to represent their visions in the form of symbols and images. A symbol might be understood as a vehicle for thinking and as device for transporting thought from one mind to another. More than that, an image does not merely communicate a vision. It can also create it, transform it, and persuade others to adopt it. Some images take on the character of sacred objects. When that happens symbols become icons, which not merely signify but sanctify thought. They are regarded with reverence and protected from pollution.”
This process of envisioning ideas is central to the case of Baltimore. Even more than battle flags and power horns, symbols of liberty appeared in everything from ladies’ dresses and chairs to banks and churches. Even if this same vision conveyed through these things is not blatantly obvious to the present day observer, all of them shared a common iconography understood by the common man of the 1810s. In their appearance, these objects reached out and spoke to the average citizen reminding them of the ideas of liberty and freedom to which they aspired, often to the point of veneration.
While this continued to be the case after the Battle and buildings still were allegory, the citizens of Baltimore desired an even higher means of expressing their new nationalism. Therefore they more pursued a purer understanding of classical architecture [DO I NEED TO SAY MORE ON THAT HERE?] and even did away with the functional element altogether by erecting three of the young nation’s first public monuments – structures utterly impractical for any daily function of physical life, but seemingly quite important to the intellectual and sentimental realms. Beyond the merely visible impact of these structures there lay hidden a text for those who wished to read it. For those who did not deign to look deeper than the aesthetic or even the practical day to day use, the builders learned to write literal words on the stone so the message was unavoidable.
Fischer notes that even from the Revolution, many Americans counted literacy among their skills and so “nearly all American images of liberty and freedom were invented by literate people. In their symbols, words and image often appeared together and became mutually explanatory.” This observation is also crucial to understanding the envisioning of nationalism in Baltimore. Given this high rate of literacy and “the allegorical temperament of the age” those endeavoring to capture the intellectual in the material had to exercise caution in selecting the language to use. Of primary importance to this task was to express these sentiments in a language appealing and understandable to the common man.
“All of these flags, eagles, and Indians represented something new in the world: liberty and freedom as a national idea. As late as 1776, national consciousness was so little developed that out most common words for it did not exist with the meaning we use today. Our modern language of nationality began to develop rapidly during the American Revolution and its immediate aftermath. T……….The Stars and Stripes became a symbol of these ideas, and after 1815 it began to be displayed in a new way. No longer was it only an emblem of sovereignty for ships and public buildings and armies.” Thus it made perfect sense that this already popular language would be harnessed and driven to rise to a new level of expression.
Waldstreicher p 81.
EXPLORE THE ICONOGRAPHY HERE
Keeping in mind the context of the times, and the value and uses of architecture, we can come understand how the citizens of Baltimore in the years surrounding the War of 1812, fashioned their material world to communicate what otherwise would be fleeting thoughts, powerless without a stable or lasting form of expression and understanding.
Baltimore was late in rising, as it was only created in 1729 when ten of inhabitants of Baltimore Country petitioned that a warehouse for tobacco and accompanying town be built on the north side of the Patapsco River on land belonging to Charles and Daniel Carroll. So the land was bought from the Carroll brothers and their tenant John Flemming became the first inhabitant of Baltimore.
The architecture at this period was largely insignificant to the people. Their concern was not with any display of status or conscious expression of thought. What the small evidence of their buildings do reveal, however, is a focus on practicality. “Each new landowner in this area was required to build within eighteen months a house covering not less than 400 square feet on his acre lot in order to secure title. These houses were uniformly of wood without much architectural presentation, and often had old-fashioned gambrel roofs.” Nearly all structures continued to be built of wood until 1799, when the perpetual trouble of fire caused a city ordinance to be passed prohibiting the erection of wooden buildings in the heart of the town. Fortunately good clay and cheap marble could be found in abundance in the surrounding county.
Their economic situation as a tiny new port town did not give them the freedom to build whimsical structures for their own private enjoyment, or for any purpose except function. Sustenance was key; aesthetics only secondary, though evidence suggests the first buildings were not totally devoid of decoration. The late emanate architectural historian Richard Hubbard Howards writes that “Perhaps as early as this day they were painted in bright hues that later made Baltimore a variegated pattern of bold colors; in 1764 the wooden houses were reported painted blue and white, some yellow, contrasting with the occasional red brick structure.” Doubtlessly they were charming colonial structures with their bright colors, but nothing grand or magnificent as the inhabitants of Baltimore did not have time for the luxury of further decoration. As late as 1752, Baltimore, whose occupants now numbered around 300, was surrounded by a wooden wall for protection making it the only walled town in America at that time.
Only one family, the wealthy Carrolls, had the means to building anything grander than a brightly painted shack; and they did. The Carrolls, a noble Roman Catholic family from Ireland had come to Maryland in 1688. One of the brothers who emigrated to Maryland received a commission as attorney general of the colony from Lord Baltimore. This position set him in a good place for advancement in the colonies. ===BIO OF CARROLLS?=== In 1732, they purchased 2,568 acres on the Patapsco for the purpose of mining iron. In the 1750s the family began construction of Mount Clare, an elegant Georgian Mansion. The feel of the city must have certainly reflected that of a Medieval fiefdom: the wealthy lord who owned, at least originally, all the surrounding land lived in his great house removed from the common man’s hovel while they worked for him. In turn, the architecture reinforced these distinctions in colonial Baltimore.
In the 1790s the predominate type of architecture was based the Georgian style so popular in England. Deeply rooted in classical architecture, the Georgian style defined itself by balance and symmetry and largely followed in the footsteps of the sixteenth century Italian architect Andrea Palladio in reflecting the forms of Greek and Roman antiquity.
While the War for Independence may not have had an immediate impact in the formation of an understanding of national identity in Baltimore, the Revolution brought a unique economic opportunity to the city, which would pave the way for its development in the coming decades.
Likewise, this changed the architecture as it changed the people. While most of the young nation was rejoicing in the strength of the people as a nation community, Baltimoreans reveled in the new earned wealth. With their new fortunes the built really big houses all for themselves!
It would be far from the truth to claim that the War for Independence did not have a significant impact on Maryland. However, while it may have been a "Revolution" to "America" at large, it hardly revolutionized Maryland, specifically Baltimore, in terms of national identity. Doubtlessly it was an exciting time and countless Marylanders rallied around the patriot cause; but, the experience of Maryland was a far cry from Massachusetts, New York, Virginia, and the other colonies. Baltimore Town, as it was then, was little more than the sleepy tobacco port it was at its beginning. Marshy, rural, and essentially inland because of its location on the Chesapeake Bay, the small port was not a major target for the British forces which had more important people to pursue. They felt no need to waste time and supplies on a backwater town when trouble brewed elsewhere.
Thus Baltimoreans hardly experienced the same effects as their brethren in Boston and other major cities. They were removed from the immediate war-zones and effects of battle. For most Baltimoreans the war was found in the pages of newspapers and reports, not in their surrounding fields and near their homes. They lacked the experience of fighting the redcoats on the doorsteps of their homes they many others gained. Consequentially the war influenced them differently.
Baltimoreans were not totally oblivious to military movement, of course. Many Marylanders did join the Continental Army and engaged in combat in other places. This Revolutionary experience earned Maryland the nickname “The Old Line State” for the steadfastness of the Maryland militia, even though the Maryland line did not defend Maryland soil. REINSERT JOHN EAGER HOWARD
In addition to the distant military participation by those men such as Howard, Baltimore was politically conscious at this time. For three months in 1776, Baltimore hosted the Second Continental Congress as the advances of British troops across New Jersey brought them too close to Philadelphia for the comfort of the Congress. The proceedings of the Congress during the brief stay in Baltimore had a great impact on the nation as a whole. Washington’s powers were increased and he became the de facto leader of the nation. However, this had little effect on the common Baltimorean who was not present at these meetings. If the common man was concerned with the legislation it was probably only insofar as it impacted economic matters touching their lives.
Initially in 1774 to protest the closing of Boston harbor, citizens “stop all importations from…similar resolutions (161) Burring of the Peggy Stewart (162) While the people met these events with enthusiasm, the nature of the affairs reveals their concept of the broader movement. Rather that understanding the affair as a true revolution, a break from the mother country because of cultural or strong nationalistic sentiments, the people perceived their actions as an economic protest. Ironically though the War for Independence may have been understood mostly in terms of economics in Maryland, it was through the economic opportunities presented to the town was that Baltimore was revolutionized. During the War, the British blockaded the colonies' major ports of Philadelphia, Boston, and New York.. “the necessity of importation present, smaller ports snatched at the opportunity to pick up the other cities' lost business, and Baltimore was at their head. Soon the city, with its unique Clipper Ships, prized for their grace and speed, held a monopoly on importation. They were small but sleek ships “with schooner rig and sharp lines, the clippers could outsail and French or British vessel on the high seas.” They were the perfect ships to run the wartime blockades and bring the much needed food, guns and other supplies to Baltimore for distribution across the colonies.
Besides importation, local products were of great importance. The land just north of the city had a rich deposit of valuable iron ore, prized for making weapons and ammunition. The ironworks of Baltimore County would help supply the Continental Army. Flour was also an important export that was smuggled out for trade abroad as well as its even great importance in feeding the colonial army and struggling revolutionaries. Tobacco continued to be exported, hazardously, to Europe where the demand for the New World weed remained high throughout the war.
Salt works (172)
Captain Charles Ridgely was a renaissance man active in all of these aspects of the colonial and wartime Baltimore experience. Over the course of his 57 years of life, Ridgely was a merchant mariner, the master of a growing agricultural estate and flourishing ironworks, a popular politician, and builder of Hampton Mansion. Born in 1733 in Maryland to parents also native to the colony, Ridgely was removed from his family’s origins in England. However, Ridgely’s material possessions, particularly his mansion, reveal the transmitted memory and association with that country and culture was very much a deep part of his understanding of identity, even after the Revolution. The nationalism he experienced was that of pride and satisfaction in economic independence that was not necessarily divorced from the cultural influence of England. To him, to be American did not mean he could not continue to cling to the practices, tastes, and aspirations of his forbearers.
At a fairly young age Ridgely went to sea serving as a supercargo aboard one of the ships owned by his father. His career on the sea took him to Europe numerous times. In December 1757, as it was entering the English Channel, his ship was captured by a French privateer and he was held as a prisoner of war for a couple months. Thus he had a taste of the turmoil of war. By 1763 he forsook the sea in favor of the life of a planter and industrial entrepreneur.
Charles Ridgely as planter/ironmaster
The Politician: “Captain Charles Ridgely was a member of the Committee of Safety during part of the Revolution”
Ridgely was among the many Baltimoreans who pursued the numerous economic opportunities of the Revolution. The products of his land, particularly iron, were desperately needed by the Continental Army. Moreover, the iron from his mines was especially well suited to the making of cannon and rifle barrels, thus increasing its value and demand. Ridgely, while still keeping his hands in a number of business matters, turned most of his attention to his ironworks. The result of this choice was passed down and related in 1894 by James McHenry Howard, as follows:
“One time when reproached for absenting himself from his place in the legislature and staying at home for the sake making twenty-five dollars a day he replied in a manifesto to his constituents that had been absent from his public duty for reasons that seemed good to himself and intimates that the public was served rather than injured and that twenty-five dollars a day is a good thing to make.”
The attitude captured in this statement is very indicative of Ridgely’s mindset and that of many of his peers. Making some cash was perfectly compatible with serving the country, so long as the country could be served by material goods and not just legislation. Likewise Samuel Smith gifted solider, later to become a hero of the Battle of Baltimore, returned home from the war, much to Washington’s disappointment, to cash in on the economic opportunities of the day. He and his cousin James A. Buchanan revived their fathers’ business and both made great fortunes. Scottish immigrant Robert Gilmor also left the militia to become a representative of two merchants. He made a fortune out of the wartime European demand for wheat and tobacco and would rise to become one of the wealthiest men in the city. His son, Robert Gilmor Jr would eventually use his fortune to take a Grand Tour of Europe, thus influencing his understanding of architecture, art and the role of classicism. Given their later service to their home and country during the War of 1812, it would be difficult to argue that these men did not care about militarily defending their lands; they just simply did not perceive that to be the only type of service. Their ideal was synthesizing personal financial advancement with assistance to their fellow ‘Americans.’ They, or their fathers or grandfathers had come to the New World in large part to pursue economic happiness. Why should they not follow that dream?
At the close of the Revolution, Ridgely began work on his Hampton Mansion, just north of Baltimore, which is a fine example of Georgian design and the mentality of Ridgely and his peers. Both its location and style were carefully selected by Ridgely to reflect his life as a great America precisely he conceived it.
He chose the heart of his small empire, the grounds of North Hampton Furnace, as the site of his house and testament to self. Previously, the only known structure on the site was a small, one roomed building that may have existed as early as the 1740s when the land still belong to the Darnell family. This building would later become the overseer’s house for the home-farm. In the meantime, it would house Ridgely and his wife, Rebecca, until their new abode was completed. The National Park Service, in whose care the building now rests, in unsure about the precise dates of construction, but the ‘farmhouse’ was tripled in size while the Ridgelys lived there. In the 1980s, the Park Service discovered beautiful paneled walls beneath the horsehair plaster of the rooms added by the Ridgelys. Former curator Lynne Dakin Hastings and others have been unsure of the story of the paneling; however it seems most likely that the Ridgelys installed it for their own personal enjoyment when they resided there. The willingness to live in such a humble dwelling despite their rapidly increasing fortune indicates they still felt tied to the land and the life of a commoner. Ridgely was still one of the ordinary men he represented as a politician. He was still a farmer just like most of the inhabitants of the state. He knew the life of the sea, and still oversaw business ventures just as many men did down in the city. He was entrepreneur along the rest of them; but he had the great fortune of making a lot of money from his endeavors and he was bound to enjoy it in the tradition of his forefathers, as was his right as an American. He would live modestly while his pretentious mansion; but not too modestly, because he at least wanted to enjoy his beautifully paneled rooms.
The construction of the big house spanned over a seven year period ending in 1790; it captures many of the most iconic elements of Georgian architecture. It is very balanced, perfectly symmetrical - even the front and back of the house mirror each other in appearance. At first glance it elegantly idealizes the colonial Georgian style, most certainly British in origin, but colonial striving to live up to the ideals of the mother county. Today the house is a rosy ivory, whitewashed with a paint containing a high level of iron. This gives the house a stronger American feel; however, this was not the case during Ridgely’s life. The house appeared to be made of large stone blocks, more closely resembling the tradition of the British manor houses.
Hampton’s resemblance to the manor houses of England only begins there. Observers have noted that the front elevation of Hampton resembles that of Castle Howard of Yorkshire, England, in its elements. Hampton is undoubtedly simpler and of a much humbler class than its British cousin, begun nearly a century before its colonial counterpart. Certainly there are many differences; however, proportionally they are nearly identical. Unlike Hampton, the portico of Howard is enclosed, but bears the classical pediment. Its dome is heavier, not nearly as airy as Hampton’s; but like the Baltimore house, the dome was an addition postdating initial plans. Castle Howard also lost its ideal Georgian symmetry because of changing needs and wants over the extended period time it took to complete the house. Hampton, however, remained true to its conception and is therefore arguably architecturally superior to its older cousin. Whether the Castle Howard actually influenced the design of Hampton or not is unknown. The architect of Hampton is believed to have been Ridgely himself. With his connections to the Howard family of Maryland (who it must be noted were also removed by a couple generations from their British roots), it is possible that through the transmission of family memories, Ridgely was inspired to imitate the family’s ancestral home. On the other hand of this debate, family legend recorded by James McHenry Howard claimed that it was modeled after an Italian Villa seen by Ridgely on one of his voyages. However, what the family tradition meant by ‘Italian Villa’ could certainly be challenged. Hampton lacks any particular Italianate qualities, except those transmitted through the British understanding of Palladio. The more likely case would be an English Manor inspired by an Italian Villa of Palladio, simply referred to as an ‘Italian Villa.’
Sadly there are no extant writings from Ridgely discussing his actual inspiration. Whatever it may have been, however, it is probable that with all of his travels, he drew from a number of buildings he found attractive. Regardless, it is clear beyond doubt that Ridgely desired a residence of a well respected design that would convey to all who saw it that he possessed great wealth and importance. Ridgely succeeded in this endeavor as he did in all others, even though he died the year construction finished. At its completion, Hampton was the largest house in America and today is the only site within the National Park Service designated for its architectural significance.
With all of is grandeur, Hampton, like the Carrolls’ Mount Clare and the Howards’ Belvedere does not convey any particular sense of nationalism. It maintains ties and continuity with earlier traditions carried over from England. The experience of the Revolution apparently did not inspire Ridgely to any passionate feeling of nationalism that would have caused him to break with that tradition, even less than John Eager Howard. Ridgely was quite happy to construct his mansion in a Georgian, colonial style even though America had divorced itself from Britain. Nationalism would have to wait until the next generation to blossom in the Ridgely family.
Baltimore Town incorporated with its neighbor Jones Town on the last day of the year, 1796 to become Baltimore City. The new city’s awkward position as a port set at a practically inland location had begun to pay off. Since the city was one of the westernmost ports, as the nation’s population expanded westward Baltimore became the favored port of many farmers and “men and capital flowed into Baltimore eager to build on the successes of the first group of merchants.” The city quickly bloomed as into a hub of commerce. The ‘first families of Maryland,’ such as the Carrolls, Howards, and Ridgelys, continued enjoying the successes of their involvement in shipping, agriculture, politics and industry. However, new blood came onto the scene and younger compatriots who made their money through shipping, privateering and other business ventures joined the older families.
In the late 1790s, Alexander Brown came to Baltimore from Ireland as a linen merchant; but within a couple years he left that trade and began offering other merchants letter of credit and bills of exchange. In 1809, Alex. Brown & Sons underwrote the first initial public offering in America for the Baltimore Water Company. The Etting and Cohen families also took up banking through J.I Cohen Jr. & Bros. Their deftness in financial matters provided ship-owners and merchants with the necessary capital to run their trade. The risk that went into these business ventures easily romanticized, and those who participated in them did not hesitate to cast them in such light. Hayward notes: “It is no coincidence that in early nineteenth century account books of mercantile firms, each voyage was listed as an ‘adventure’ and that William Patterson, and important merchant, characterized shipping as a ‘hazardous and desperate game of chance.’”
If honest trading was not already adventurous enough for a seaman or investor, around 1800, the practice of privateering, began to flourish. The practice had taken root during the Revolution but now that America found itself in a skirmish with France, the undeclared “Quasi-War,” privateering rose to an unprecedented level. The word ‘privateer’ was, in all truth, little better than ‘pirate.’ As Hayward explains, “President John Adams authorized privately owned vessels to ‘seize, subdue, or capture and enemy ship…’ Called ‘Letters of Marque,’ these documents were licenses for piracy.” While piracy may not have been the original intent, and not every merchant who obtained a Letter of Marque wished to hunt down other ships, the document enabled the ship to be outfitted with enough guns to protect it well. With the speed of the Clipper ship, the protection of guns, the legal sanction of the President of the nation and the adventurous spirit of the age, privateering swiftly became an adventurous trade in its own right. Stories of bold attacks by privateers on foreign ships were carried back from the High Seas to the city, along with enormous amounts of captured wealth.
Through the myriad of opportunities available to Baltimoreans, the city and its economy flourished in the last years of the eighteenth century. Between 1790 and 1800 the city’s population doubled, making the city one of the largest in America. Because of this population expansion, “a boom in building was inevitable; while housing had kept up with the growth in population, public and commercial facilities had lagged.” Fortunately the economic growth in Maryland had created patrons for the city who all too willingly turned their attention towards guiding the architectural development of Baltimore in this period.
This patron class consisted of the Carrolls, Howards, Ridgelys and their peers. They had all begun to cultivate their own conceptions of nationalism grounded in their own person backgrounds, experiences and expectations. As time past, they drifted father from their British roots and started to identify themselves more strongly with America in its own right. They began to take pride in their new country and realize its potential. This pride, this nationalism, deserved to be placed in stone, as had their previous identity associations. They would surround themselves with it and make every new building in the quickly growing city reflect their ideology.
In search of a more powerful allegorical language to express the greatness of their nation, the people of Baltimore turned to one of the greatest inspirations in the history of mankind: Ancient Rome. Nearly every leader of aspiring empires, from the Charlemagne to Hitler, has turned to Rome at some point for inspiration. The leaders of young America were no different. While a respectable percentage of the population may have been literate, they did not all possess the same caliber of classical education. Not everyman was well versed in the lines of Cato, Cicero, Vigil and Horace. Nevertheless, classicism was unavoidable. It was already a highly popular model from the days of the Revolution. Classicism permeated the culture in many ways, albeit in a popular, romanticized form rather than a scholarly, realistic fashion. The common man need not understand Rome in a historical-critical way. He need only know that it was a golden age of patriotism where men and women were willing to lay themselves down on their country’s altar, because their country was the greatest and highest good. It was an era of perfect morals and upstanding citizens where traitors were quickly condemned.
This type of Roman mythology served as the perfect paradigm and people cited it for every purpose. For example, on August 26, 1814, before the Battle, The Baltimore Patriot ran an article from the New York Merchant Advertiser praising five patriotic women who assisted in the fortification of Brooklyn Heights in New York:
We are requested to notice, and we do it with pleasure, the laudable spirit which shewd itself on Saturday at Brooklin Heights in the ladies who accompanied the Rev. Mr. Lowe of Flushing. When they came to the place where the citizens (who were then at refreshment) had been at labour, they laid down their umbrellas, commenced working, and continued for a considerable time to show a zeal and activity worthy of matrons of Rome in the best days of the republic.
The accreditation of their “zeal and activity worthy of the matrons of Rome in the best days of the republic” is dubious. Not that these fine women did not contribute valiance and energy to this project, but it is doubtful that the “matrons of Rome in the best days of the republic” would have “laid down their umbrellas and commenced working.” Chances are the matrons of Rome would have rested in their villas and sent their slaves out to take care of such work. Furthermore, the matrons of Rome in “the best days of the republic” probably never had a need to fortify their homes against attack. Thus perhaps, in an ironic ways, the (people to be inspired) outshone their role models. However, it was of no great importance whether in reality the matrons of Rome were more commendable than the ladies of New York or not. What truly mattered was that the ladies of the day were encouraged to live up to a great, though potentially mythological, model reinforced by the examples of their contemporaries and the corollaries drawn by and praise given from the press.
With this model of Classical Rome in front of them, the leading citizens of Baltimore looked to channel the architecture of the much-needed new city buildings to reflect their image. This movement extended beyond Baltimore. Popularized by President and architect Thomas Jefferson and carried forth by others such as Charles Bulfinch and Pierre L’Enfant the Neo-Classical style began to sweep the nation as the new ‘Federal’ style. Granted, the Palladian, Georgian style so popular in the preceding years had slipped out of vogue in Europe as well, in America the shift to Neo-Classicism had a much deeper meaning. The Neo-Classical style which they adopted reflected the growing nationalistic sentiment that the United States was to become the New Rome. The mounting feelings of citizens across the nation supported this proposal, and the leaders of Baltimore were quick to agree and join in the expression of the growing nationalism through the architecture of their new buildings.
Beginning shortly after the completion of Ridgely’s Hampton, three skilled architects came to Baltimore more to leave their mark on the city; but not without the people of Baltimore having their say. Benjamin Henry Latrobe, Maximilian Godefroy, and Robert Mills designed many of the most important public buildings of the city erected between 1800 and 1820, as well as the city's two chief monuments: the Battle Monument and the Washington Monument. These structures became the face of the city and reflected the past, present and aspirations of its citizens. Each of these men brought with them their own backgrounds and personal understandings of life thus further adding to the diverse mix out of which came nationalism in Baltimore.
The Baltimore Cathedral was among the most important new buildings to arise in the city thanks to the work of two great men: Bishop John Carroll and Benjamin Henry Latrobe. Carroll was of the same prominent family that had built Mount Clare. Born in 1735 in Maryland, Carroll had spent much of his younger days as priest serving Maryland and Virginia as a missionary. During and following the Revolutionary War, Father Carroll was desperately concerned for the situation of Catholics in America. In 1783, he and five other priests banded together to formulate some structure for the Church in America. The Vatican responded in 1784 by giving them permission to nominate a superior to serve as bishop. Carroll was elected, confirmed by the pope, and made the first Roman Catholic bishop in the United States.
In 1804, Bishop Carroll resolved to build a new cathedral for the young diocese. He chose to locate the new church in the heart of the city. Until this time the Church was housed in St. Peter’s Church, which was first Catholic Church in the city and was completed in 1770. It was a small, two-story, high gabled, brick house which blended into the surrounding buildings. Carroll was quite dissatisfied that this unimpressive building should serve as the primary house of worship for the Church in this county. He desired a building befitting the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church in America. Besides the practical need of a worship space for his flock, Carroll had other ideological motivations and purposes for this structure. The Bishop wanted this new church to be monument and a testament to the triumph of Catholicism in America. It had not been an easy journey, even in Maryland, originally founded as a refuge for people of that faith. Until the Revolution, Catholics, such as himself and his family members, had been barred from holding public office.
Thus he wanted a ‘monument’ to his faith in this new, young country. His wishes are well expressed in a letter from 18__ to ______:
“What illustrious monuments of their faith and piety still subsist in the venerable Cathedral Churches, that seem to defy the desolating hand of time, and still replenish beholders with awe and reverence? You are not invited to contribute to your aid to raise a Church of the same grandeur and sublimity; but one, which in an humbler stile, may remain as a testimonial of your devotion to the glory of God your Creator.”
Likewise, in a letter to _____ in 18__ Carroll wrote: “The noblest Temples which cover every country of the old world, are monuments raised to celebrate the praises of GOD, but our Fathers in the same Faith of JESUS CHRIST; and tho’ many of them have fallen into other hands, yet they remain, even now, the venerable Witnesses of that piety and zeal which animated our Predecessors.”
But, in effect, this monument was not just to his faith, but also to the country which gave him the right to worship freely, even as he lamented the seizure of many formerly Catholic church buildings in Europe by Protestant sects over the years . The building of the cathedral thus had strong nationalist motivations in addition to the religious because, for Carroll, nationalism was fueled by thanksgiving for religious freedom. [Letter of Thanksgiving] Thus Carroll desired not merely a cathedral appropriate for the Catholic Church, but more importantly, a building to be an icon of -and monument to - the Catholic Church in America expressing the pride of faith and religious freedom.
Carroll thus sought out an architect capable of providing this monument to faith and freedom. After some searching, Carroll turned to Benjamin Henry Latrobe, a promising architect who had been born in 1764 in England to an American mother. He received a well grounded education in both architecture and engineering and had travelled extensively until financial and personal hardships brought him to America in 1796 in search for a better life. He would eventually become one of the most influential architects of America, counting the United States Capitol and White House among his many achievements.
After reviewing the project, Latrobe offered to draw up the plans free of charge and the following year presented the Bishop with two very different designs. The first was a Gothic structure; the second a Neo-Classical design. Latrobe’s letters from 18___ reveal that he was very attached to his first plan for the cathedral which he termed “Gothic Hints.” In his review of the project he had strongly criticized an initial plan by another architect of a Classical design. He seemed quite thoroughly convinced that the Gothic plan was more appropriate for a Catholic Church.
At the same time as this presentation, one of Latrobe’s friends and rivals, Maximilian Godefroy was working on the plans for the chapel at St. Mary’s Seminary – also a Gothic structure. Born in 1765 in Paris, Godefroy experienced the turmoil of the French Revolution first hand. In 1803 he was arrested and held prisoner without trial for nearly two years for allegedly holding ideals contrary to the Napoleonic regime. In 1805 he sailed in exile to the United States and arrived in Baltimore in December of that year bringing with him his own ideals, beliefs, conceptions, and understandings. Howland believes the two architects must have had a strong influence on each other. It seems that both of these men strongly associated Gothic architecture with the Catholic Church. Both men had come from Europe where the great Gothic cathedrals were icons of the Catholic Church.
Godefroy’s chapel at St. Mary’s does not stand out as any great architectural work, except in its indication of understandings of identity held by Godefroy and the Sulpician priest for whom he designed the chapel. Godefroy struggled to work around an existing structure and mould it into a Gothic work. The end result was far from perfection. He focused much attention on the façade, and it hinted of aspirations to the venerable cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris. The sides of the building however, were left plain, and the interior left much to be desired. Clearly Godefroy had gone too far out of his way to make the existing building conform to his Gothic design. This seems to indicate the dedication of Godefroy and his patrons to the concept that Gothic architecture passed down from the Middle Ages best befit the Church of Rome, despite any circumstances.
Likewise Latrobe held these conceptions. In 1805 he wrote a very knowledgeable letter to Bishop Carroll and the Baltimore Cathedral Building Committee explaining his understanding of the requirements of the Catholic Church on ecclesiastical architecture. He also explicated his two different designs, writing:
The Veneration which the Gothic cathedrals generally excite, by their particular style, by the associations belonging peculiarly to that style, and by the real grandeur, and beauty which it possesses, has induced me to propose the Gothic style of building in the first design submitted to you. The Gothic style of Cathedrals, is impractical to the uses of common life, while the Greek and Roman architecture has descended from the most magnificent temples to the decoration of our meanest furniture. On this account, I conceive that the former has a peculiar claim to preference, especially as the expense is not greater in proportion to the effect.
Having already betrayed a preference towards the Gothic design, Latrobe adds a few short remarks on the Neo-Classical design that hardly compare to his elucidation on the Gothic church:
The second design which is Roman, has, as far as I can judge of my own works, equal merit with the first in point of plan, and structure, and I therefore submit the choice to You entirely, having myself and equal desire to see the first, or the second executed, my habits rather inclining me to the latter, while my reasonings prefer the first.
This last explanation perfectly clarifies Latrobe’s state of mind. While he ordinarily designs buildings of Classical origin and inspiration, and is therefore habituated to such architecture, he believes that the first is a more intellectually appropriate design.
Bishop Carroll would have none of this, for his reasonings informed him differently. The Catholic Church was after all, as expressed by the very meaning of its name, universal. It did not need Gothic architecture to maintain its identity or the fervency of the devotion of the faithful. The Church was in America and would do best to take the up-and-coming American style and use it for its own purposes and expression. The Catholic Church and the United States were tied together thanks to the belief of freedom of worship. What better way to express this feeling perhaps these paradoxically coexisting sentiments of religious devotion and nationalism than functional monument, a cathedral in the new Federal style? Thus Bishop Carroll selected the second design for his new cathedral.
This cathedral resembled the Roman basilicas of the classical period, but with a distinctly Catholic flavor – precisely what Carroll desired. The high central dome, with a coffered ceiling is reminiscent of the Pantheon of Rome, would rise over the center of the traditional cruciform church. Light would stream in through numerous skylights, carefully placed in only partial view. Two smaller domes above the sanctuary and nave would provide more elevation. The interior would be plain, but dignified. Not cluttered as most European churches were, crammed full of statues, paintings and stained glass. It would reflect the staid tastes past down along with the rest of Carroll’s Anglo-Irish heritage, which was so inextricably tied to the developing American persona. The cathedral would not be in the ‘impractical,’ romantically mysterious Gothic style. It would resemble the pagan Romans, and the largely Protestant New Rome of America. Yet it would still be thoroughly Catholic while dismissing the traditional prejudices held against the ‘papists.’ The church would be filled with light, in contrast with the dark cavernous Gothic cathedrals, just as the new American Catholicism would be enlightened and free from the stigma of superstition. There were no secrets, no strange heathen mysteries; the Catholics were just enlightened as their Protestant brethren in this new world and young country. The Baltimore Cathedral would be a proud monument to this very American and nationalistic understanding of Carroll’s ancient faith.
In 1812, even as the construction of new Cathedral was finally underway, trouble for Baltimore loomed on the horizon as tension mounted between Great Britain and the young United States until June 18 of that year when America declared war. Even as war was declared, regionalism divided the nation and Baltimore, as a town in a middle state, was torn between the different regions which had some influence on the city.
In “A Riotous Affair,” Stephanie Hurter’s description of the physical public sphere of Baltimore during the War provides an insightful image of the city. She writes:
Socially and culturally Baltimore was expanding. With an influx of immigrants from those of Irish origin to French came new competition over jobs and city expansion. The population expanded widely, doubling in the period 1800 to 1820. The number of free blacks jumped radically, from just 3,771 in 1800 to 10, 047 in 1820. Religious differences abounded as city records note the existence of Episcopalians, Catholics, Presbyterians, First German Reformed, Quaker, and Methodist. Further, the hostilities between France, England, and the United States continued to create unrest as embargos and impressments stifled the maritime industry of the port city. As well, in the public sphere, where information was exchanged and debated, transitions from an oral culture dependent upon spoken rhetoric to a more print centered culture began to occur. Newspapers, such as the Federal Republican or the democratically led, Whig, began emerging and the debates that previously had been restricted to those few men of letters, now engulfed the crowds in the taverns and city square.
The consensus and homogeneity previously enjoyed by the inhabitants of Baltimore was crumbling and the tensions that emerged erupted against Hanson. One historian noted about the period, “but there is no period in American history in which fundamental change proceeded with greater power, speed, and effect than in this most obscure of periods.” Rising tensions meant that the public sphere was even less equipped to forge consensus, restrain passion and resolve disputes.
Four days after the declaration of war, one of the most brutal riots of the city’s history erupted because of the anger of the pro-war Democratic-Republicans of the city over the anti-war Federalists. Their primary target was the Baltimore-based newspaper The Federal Republican published by Alexander Contee Hanson. This riot would earn Baltimore the name “Mobtown” because of its extreme violence.
As if these riots were not powerful enough, the nationalistic sentiments of most Baltimoreans only continued to grow deeper and stronger as the war continued.
British on the Doorstep
Fine defense of St Michael’s (field book 944)
“Haec olim meminisse juvabit.” So the Niles’ Weekly Register, one of the most popular newspapers at the time, quoted Virgil’s Aeneid. “Someday it will be pleasant to remember all of this.” That was the motto that appeared in the header of every issue of the paper at this time.
- Key
- Niles
“Maryland Federalists such as Francis Scott Key were an odd breed in American politics. They combined the manners of southern gentlemen with very strong feelings of national identity. In the early republic, the strongest American nationalists were apt to be south Federalists and northern Republicans.”
“In 1814, Maryland Federalists were caught in a dilemma. They disliked Mr. Madison’s war and despised his incompetent administration, but they had no sympathy for the secessionist talk of New England Federalists. They were strongly anglophile, but they watched in dismay as the British warships seized control of the Chesapeake Bay and British troops marched deep into their beloved Maryland countryside. Key regarded the invaders as trespassers on his turf.”
SSB was song of Federalist party
Battle of North Point, 24 Americans killed and 139 wounded. 46 British killed, 295 wounded
March 4, 1815
Shocked by the American vicotory, Latrobe wrote to Godefroy from Pittsburg a month after the Battle: “Is it not astonishing that Baltimore still stands? That Smith and Stricker and Cary Long, and Stewart should claim a Victory of General Ross’s army, over Wellington’s troops, and also that appearances should be in ther favor, as history will probably be also?”
After the British left and the city began to restore its usual order, Baltimore experienced a tremendous surge of patriotism as it never had. Divisions were set aside and the city on the whole embraced the war; more so than it already had been prior to the Battle, as evidenced by the riots. Even members of the Federalist upper class like the Howards, Carrolls, Ridgelys, and Keys, could not help but partake in the triumphal celebrations and agree that success in the war was necessary.
On January 30, 1815, the Maryland senate “unanimously assented” to a pro-war proclamation in support of the federal government that perfectly embodies the feelings of the people of Baltimore. The statement condemned the British and their allies as well as those members of the Hartford Convention and other such “traitors.” They wrote:
…it becomes all faithful and patriotic citizens to manifest their devotion to the government of their choice, and their firm determination to support the administration, freely elected to conduct their public concerns.
The senate of Maryland, cherishing an ardent attachment to the free institutions of the republic and feeling an unimpaired confidence in the integrity and ability of those, who, in times of extraordinary difficulty, have wisely administered the national affairs, deem the present a proper occasions for declaring their fidelity and adherence to the union, their support of its rights and honor, and their continued approbation of its government.
Therefore resolved, by the senate of Maryland, That we entertain an exalted opinion of the virtue and talents of the president of the United States; and should his able and zealous measures for the honor and prosperity of his country be crowned with deserved success, (as we firmly believe) his administration will unfold a triumphant era in the American history.
Resolved, That we view with detestation the machinations of disaffected citizens to weaken the union, distract the public councils, and embarrass military operations, whereby the enemy is encouraged in his depredations, and the evils of war are protracted.
Resolved, That the war in which our country is engaged was rendered just and necessary, in defense of rights essential to freemen, and which it would be disgraceful to abandon.
Resolved, That the terms of peace proposed by the British government to our commissioners at Ghent are ignominious and humiliating, and excite our highest indignation, and that the war ought to be prosecuted with increased energy, until it an be terminated by an honorable peace, becoming a high-minded nation to accept.
Resolved, That the barbarous and vindictive modes of warfare, practiced by the enemy deserve the execration of all civilized nations, and are only worthy of the triple alliance of British, indians, and blacks.
Resolved, That the brilliant victories, so splendidly achieved by our gallant army and navy, have humbled the pride of the enemy, exalted the character of the nation, and filled the world with admiration of their valor, enterprize and heroism.
However, this outpouring of nationalism came too late, for the Treaty of Ghent had already been signed, and the war officially ended. Just as the people of Baltimore had finally become enraptured in a unanimous war time spirit, the game was over. Niles’ lamented “no sooner had we acquired the skill and experience necessary to give the war its full force, than the sword was returned to its scabbard.” There would be no more gallant battles, no second attacks, even though they had set about reinforcing the defenses of the city. But, the people had their pride, and so Niles continued:
It was ‘not drawn without cause nor sheathed without honor,’ and we hail returned peace with unspeakable joy…however great the sufferings of the war, we have great countervailing advantages such as the acquirement of knowledge, renown, internal wealth and strength, and security; of which we design to take a future opportunity to speak – proud in the belief that America now stands in the first rank of nations; a rank that, granted at present, by courtesy, to her gallantry, she will COMMAND a little while hence, through her increased population and multiplied resources of wealth and power.
As for the privateers, the Pride of Baltimore, Niles bragged in his high, victorious speech that they:
now hold many of the ports of great Britain and Ireland in actual blockade. They have captured at least two thousand British ships, and were just getting into the best way of managing them. By the mastery of their seamanship, they laughed at pursuit; or, like the eagle of the Alleganies, pounced on their game. The force, power and effect of the class of vessels generally used as privateers began to be universally acknowledged; and the government lately took up a plan (which, I believe I first recommended) for annoying the enemy by them. We had done enough for glory on the sea; and it was time to have entered the contest in a way by which we could have done our enemy the most harm, to bring about peace, and secure it.
Certainly he betrays no small pride in flaunting his support of the privateers from the outset; but more importantly, he connects these bold seamen to the iconography of American nationalism. The privateers were like the eagle, the national bird, one of the most prominent symbols of the country. Moreover, it was “the eagle of the Alleganies” - not the eagle of Rome, or Germany or any other nation, but the eagle that resided in an American mountain range. Above all other birds, this eagle was the best; for this bird, like the bold privateers, was American.
No other words than these from the same editorial from Niles could be more perfectly descriptive of the triumphalistic nationalism that filled Baltimore:
“The war finished in a blazed of glory, as though the Great Arbiter of all things had decreed that the wisdom and fortitude of our government, and the desperately daring courage, invincible patience and ingenious qualities of our people, should be tried in a short contest, to secure future peace and establish our mild and benevolent institutions. Hail, holy freedom! – What though traitors within, and barbarians without, assailed thy banner, - they have retired before the nervous arm of thy sons, and left thy stars unsullied!”
The people of America were of peerless quality and virtue, the government was infallible, and most importantly, God was on their side.
Now nationalism no longer was based solely on one’s personal achievements or believes. Before the Irish experience of the Carrolls, the attachment to the land and the military and other personal achievements of John Eager Howard, the economic and political success of Charles Ridgely and the thanksgiving for religious freedom of John Carroll had colored their perception of their love of their country. They loved it for what it had given them. But now the people together held a common view, a purer nationalism, for it they held pride of the country because of what they collectively, as a community, as a nation, had done. In many ways this sentiment foreshadows John F. Kennedy’s famous maxim of a century and a half later: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your county.”
As in years past, these feelings could not be left in there ephemeral state of thought, but must be immortalized. A couple decades later Lossing recalls: “The grateful citizens were not contented with bestowing praises upon their defenders, so they devised a memorial as perpetual and enduring as marble could make it. In now great city of Baltimore…may be seen a noble monument designed in white marble.” Not only did they build one monument, but they in fact erected a few. One to Washington, one to the defenders of Baltimore, and one to a common soldier, Aquila Randall, who fell at the Battle of North Point. While to an observer of the twenty-first century, an age flooded with memorials and monuments, this seems perfectly commonplace, such structures were nearly unheard of in early nineteenth century America and these monuments were among the first such public memorials to be built in the United States.
. The citizen of that day would wonder why these people choose to construct monuments of marble. Why not adhere to previous traditions? For example, the Liberty Trees were popular monuments of nationalism during the Revolution. Old trees “symbolized ancient folk-rights of freedom and liberty” and were used through out English history as symbols of struggle against oppression. Throughout the colonies, including Maryland, revolutionaries selected a strong, venerable tree in their town to decorate and gather under to celebrate their liberty and freedom. But these trees had deep English roots. For the revolutionary generation, English traditions were part of their identity and life. Thus even with the practice’s ancient heritage, arguably stretching back to even the time of the pre-Roman druids, the people were able to make this tradition their own.
However, this British heritage would not do for the increasing nationalistic Baltimore. Rather then expressing itself in the terms of England, the contemptuous country, the citizens reached out to antiquity again, to what they believed to be an era of perfect national unity, the Roman Republic. This time they looked not only for architectural style, as they had for their public building, but additionally for a new type of structure. Thus they borrowed the icons of the column and obelisk from Rome. To honor their heroes, the citizens of Baltimore did not merely bedeck a venerable old oak as they had in past times, but instead they began erecting monuments of stone.
Besides their Roman inspiration, these monuments were utterly impractical structures. They lacked any function; but in that lack of practicality lay their strongest effects. For just as Latrobe had argued that the impracticality of gothic architecture inspired veneration and devotion, so would the impracticality of these stone towers inspire secular veneration and devotion to nationalism.
Robert Alexander ascribes the creation of such a public memorial to Revolutionary France and claims that “the first American-made war memorial, Maximilian Godefroy’s Battle Monument in Baltimore…might have been erected in Paris more than a decade earlier.” It seems extraordinarily unfair to pay all credit for the monument and its counterparts to the French and Alexander fails to take note of earlier American experimentation in public memorial. The young United States and Revolutionary France shared many ideals and it is often difficult to distinguish which country inspired the other. Regardless, both nations looked to Rome for inspiration and thus it is hardly surprising that they should both settle on similar expressions of self. Furthermore, it must be duly noted that the architect of the Battle Monument, Maximilian Godefroy was a Frenchman; however, the citizens of Baltimore had quite distinct plans for their memorials, and were unafraid of controlling their contracted designers. It is also important to note that Godefroy had long been resident in Maryland, and both he and his fellow Frenchman Joseph Ramee, lost the competition to design the Washington Monument to the only American-trained architect, who perused the commission, Robert Mills. Even Alexander mentions, albeit in a footnote, in his biography of Godefroy, that he was partially commissioned to design the monument because of a “general feeling of guilt over the lack of recognition and remuneration he received for his two months of hard work, October through November, 1814, on the Baltimore defenses.” Besides this, the monument to Randall was of pure American contrivance and design and, in fact, harkens back to a few “Liberty Pillars” and obelisks of the American Revolution that by far predate the French.
Fischer notes that “In 1766, thus Sons of Liberty in Dedham, Massachusetts, built a monument to celebrate the repeal of the Stamp Act. They called it their Pillar of Liberty. It was a sturdy classical column eight or ten feet high…on the top was a bust of William Pitt.” This monument did not last long, for in a couple years Parliament again tried to tax the unrepresented colonies, and in their anger the colonist torn the monument down. Besides this liberty pillar, Paul Revere designed an obelisk of liberty to celebrate the same event of the repeal of the Stamp Act. Fischer writes: “it had nothing like the slender elegance of Cleopatra’s Needle. This was a blunt Boston obelisk, as short, squat, strong, and solid as the man who made it. It was a Yankee artisan’s adaptation of a Georgian English version of a neoclassical idea of an Egyptian obelisk, at least four incarnations removed from the original.” The design was extremely busy with each side of the obelisk divided into three parts. The lower third featured America harassed by England. The middle section contained inscriptions of the virtues of liberty and freedom. The top displayed portraits of sixteen defenders of American liberty. For all of the thought and work invested in this structure it was only “made of translucent oiled paper on a thin frame illuminated from within by 280 lamps” and quite sadly caught fire during one of Sons of Liberty’s celebration and disappeared in seconds.”
This catastrophe must have left a sour taste in the mouths of the people because no monuments, except one in Lexington, were erected during and following the Revolution. However, the people of Baltimore had decided the time had come to build memorials once again; thus they turned to two artistic sources drawn from antiquity: the obelisk or column and sepulchral imagery. Alexander identifies both as Revolutionary inspirations, particularly, the sepulchral imagery which was preferred in France; but the Baltimoreans were determined to take possession of these allegorical signs and use them for their own self expression. Thus they built three monuments within three years after the battle: the Washington Monument, a column combined with sepulchral imagery, the Battle Monument, a column in the shape of a fasces also paired with sepulchral imagery, and the monument to Aquilla Randall, a simple obelisk.
Of these three monuments, construction began on two of them in the same year following the Battle of Baltimore. The first to George Washington, and the second in memory of the Battle of Baltimore, were commissioned in the wake of the Battle and built shortly thereafter. Two years later in 1817, the small but significant monument to Aquila Randall was erected. Before these three, no major monument had been erected in the city and none would follow until thirty-five years later when Baltimoreans decided to erect yet another monument to some of the heroes of the Battle of Baltimore. Then seven years later came yet another monument to Washington. Only a full fifty years after the commencement of the first two monuments was a monument erected in honor of something else besides George Washington or the Defenders of Baltimore.
The first monument to be commissioned, the Washington Monument, was conceived before the war. The already shifting understanding of nationalism had raised interest among the leaders of the city to erect a memorial to the great father of the country. “In 1809 a group of Baltimoreans petitioned the Maryland General Assembly for authorization to hold a lottery to raise funds for a Washington monument” on the grounds that “‘Trophies to the memories of great and good men are an encouragement to victorious and heroic deeds. They stimulate the young to emulation and heroic deeds.’” However, as J.J. Miller points out in his article on the monument, the good citizens’ motives may not have been so altruistic and certainly lacked true nationalism. The lack of nationalism is betrayed in the very reasons for the monument offered in the petition. The people admired Washington more because he was a “great and good” man than because he was the father of the nation, first president, and hero of the United States of America. Moreover, in 1844, Robert Gilmore Jr., who was on the Board of Managers, remembered that “the monument was proposed in order to protect the fine town houses built on the city’s courthouse square.” The old courthouse was to be torn down, and the residents expressed concern that some “‘disagreeable and offensive building’” would take its place. They figured the proposal of an attractive monument to occupy that space would preserve the ascetics of their neighborhood.
The General Assembly appointed a board and money began to come in small amounts. In spring of 1810, the Board asked Godefroy to produce some designs for the proposed monument. Latrobe was conscious of the project and expressed interest, but once the Board spoke with Godefroy, Latrobe wrote to his friend “I am very happy that you have been applied to on the subject of General Washington’s Monument. I have not received any letter from the Managers of that concern.” But added an ironic side note, as the two would later have a falling out over a joint project: “I will never enter into a competition which your superiority of talent, as well as my more sincere affection for your person render impossible.”
Ultimately the work of neither the British nor the French architect would satisfy the board. In the same year Godefroy submitted at least five plans which included a triumphal arch over an equestrian statue, a fountain covered by an Ionic rotunda, two statues of Washington, and a Doric rotunda surmounted by a statue of the man. The Board obviously took no interest in these designs because they took no action.
The project looked doomed, for the War of 1812, turned everyone’s attention elsewhere and the monument project, already set aside, was nearly forgotten. But the mounting nationalism in the city, and need for some visible sign of America’s greatness to encourage the people may have been was caused the Design Committee to finally report to the Board in 1813, that they had made no progress but were willing to open up a design competition. Godefroy resubmitted his triumphal arch. Architect Joseph Ramee also submitted a triumphal arch. A third design, an obelisk, suspected by Gilmor to have been the work of Latrobe, was submitted anonymously. The fourth design came from Robert Mills: a column surmounted by a statue - the favorite of the committee.
Mills, born in 1781, in the midst of the Revolution, hailed from South Carolina and was the only American born architect of the competitors. In 1803, he had befriended Thomas Jefferson who referred him to Latrobe for training. He studied under Latrobe for a few years, but apparently this did nothing to salve the hurt caused when the Board selected Mills over Latrobe’s still dear friend, Godefroy. Latrobe wrote to Godefroy later that year, shortly after the great Battle: “Mills is a wretched designer
This harsh criticism may or may not have been wholly deserved. The monument to Nelson to which Latrobe referred could have been any number of columns erected in England, much like the Stamp Act column of 1664, Massachusetts. However, Mills may have just as easily looked directly at ancient Roman columns for inspiration, such as those of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius or the French Colonne Vendome, from which it, in its final state, is nearly indistinguishable. Despite the condemnation of Latrobe and Godefroy, Mills American birth gave him the advantage he needed. Nationalism was on his side, because he claimed to be aligned with it. Whatever he presented to the Board would be more fitting for Washington and more American simply because he was, himself, of America. Mills played this card well, and wrote to the Board:
Being an American by Birth and having also the honor of being the first American who has passed through a regular course of study of architecture in his own country, it is natural for me to feel much solicitude to aspire to the honor of raising a monument to the memory of our illustrious countryman. The education I have received being altogether American and unmixed with European habits, I can safely present the design submitted as American founded upon the general principles prefaced in the description contained in the Book of Designs. For the Honor of our country, my sincere wish is that it may not be said; to foreign genius and to foreign hands we are indebted for a Monument to perpetuate the glory of our beloved Chief.
Most of this claim may have been a boldfaced lie, Mills may have been derided by his fellow architects, and his monument scorned by artists of other cities, but the fact of the matter was, that he had couched his terms well in the language of nationalism. Times had changed. The monument was no longer needed to protect a neighborhood from an unsightly building as that space would hold the Battle Monument. The Washington Monument was to be built for its own sake – for the memory and honor of Washington and the nation. The Board could only “naturally” select the design “unmixed with European habits” drawn up by the “first American who has passed through a regular course of study of architecture in his own country” who himself feels “much solicitude” in “raising a monument to the memory of our illustrious countryman.”
Progress on the Monument had come slowly because of the military turmoil. Mill altered his designs numerous times, each reflecting different aspects of the Classical tradition he thought would best honor Washington and symbolize the nation. The final product was a Doric column on a sepulchral base with a large trophy topping each corner. Crowning the monument would be large statue of Washington.
Every detail of this monument was an allegory, metaphor or symbol of either Washington or America. The Niles Weekly Register published an article on July 1, 1815, three days before the dedication and groundbreaking, detailing the meaning behind every flourish so that the common man was fully aware of how to properly read the new addition to his city. For example, the Doric column “which from its solidity and simplicity of character harmonizes with the spirit of our government, and is emblematic of the personage to whose memory it is dedicated.”
Even though the imagery may have been abstract at times, the national connection was also personal and brought the spirit of the day home to Baltimore and its people. John Eager Howard, a war hero and nationalist, donated the land, and Charles Carnan Ridgely, a nationalist, soon-to-be governor of the state, the nephew and heir of Captain Charles Ridgely, donated the Maryland Cockeysville marble to build the monument. The committee requested that Bishop John Carroll, the champion of religious freedom, ardent admirer of the late president, and nationalist, lay corner stone; but poor health prevented him from accepting the honor.
On July 4, 1815 the cornerstone was laid. There was great celebration throughout the city. James A. Buchanan, cousin of Samuel Smith, who was president of the Board of Managers, presented an extremely nationalistic speech to the crowd of reportedly 25 to 30,000 people. He highlighted the fact that Baltimore was the first city to honor Washington in such a way. His speech was followed by an equally nationalistic prayer led by Bishop Kemp begging “the Supreme Ruler of nations” that “the private citizen, when he looks upon this monument, remember that it was erected in memory of a man who was an ornament in private life as well as public” and that it be “a reproof of sin, and encouragement to virtue, the ark of independence – the model of patriotism, and the reward of greatness.” More speeches and blessings followed, each more patriotic than the one before. Music was played, a hundred-gun salute was fired, and fireworks filled the sky that night. A prouder display of nationalistic sentiment would be hard to come by in any city, yet, here it was in Baltimore, the city so late to rise.
Nevertheless, the second monument to be commissioned, the Baltimore Battle Monument, was arguably the most significant and meaningful to the people of the city. Even today, while the modern skyscrapers have lessened its prominence compared to the Washington Monument it remains one of the defining symbols of the city and appears on the city flag and seal. The story of its design was not as dramatic and prolonged as the Washington Monument, but only because the urgency with which the people desired to erect it.
On March 25, 1815, barely six months after the Battle, the Niles’ Weekly Register published a statement from the Committee of Vigilance and Safety. The statement read that the Committee had unanimously resolved that:
The return of peace having terminated the active duties of the committee of vigilance and safety, its members are now desirous of preparing a suitable tribute of respect to the memory of our brave but unfortunate fellow citizens who feel in defense of this city, on the memorable 12th and 13th September last.
A monument would be built within the city, supervised by a committee headed by James A. Buchanan and some of the other men who were also overseeing the Washington Monument. There would be no contest for the design, as the commission was given to Godefroy without hesitation “for his patriotic and voluntary offer, gratuitously, to prepare designs for the inspection of the committee, and to superintend the execution of the one of their choice” and perhaps also as a consolation prize for his persistence in the Washington competition.
Godefroy submitted three designs for review. On April 29, the Niles’ Weekly described the designs:
The first was a simple Obelisk of Verd Antique, (green antique) marble, ornamented with bronze – The second, a Sarcophagus or rather, a Cenotaph, in the antique style, adorned with appropriate bass reliefs; the length of each was to have been 39 feet, in allusion to the 39 years of American independence – That which the committee has chosen, is entirely allegorical, and consists of three parts.
The first part was “a square base of stone, simply rusticated, of sepulchral antique form.” The second part was “a second base, square also, each angle of which will be adorned with a Griffin” out of which would rise a fasces. The third part was a statue of a women standing atop the monument. The monument was rich in symbolism as well as architectural heritage.
Again, as he had with the Washington Monument, Niles wrote:
The deep interest which must be excited by a monument, the design of which is so honorable to the feelings which gave it birth, and the brave men to whom it is to be dedicated, make it desirable that the public should be enabled to form a correct idea of the fabric which the city of Baltimore has so honorably resolved to erect to the memory of those citizens who fell nobly fighting in defense of their country.
Thus he published an article as a guide to understanding the monument. If any pile of stones ever could speak, could capture and express the nationalistic spirit of a people, this monument did. It truly is a masterpiece of symbolic imagery. Nothing was placed randomly or for the sake of mere ornamentation. The sepulchral base was very Egyptian in style, a design that certainly was more French influence given the growing fascination of the French with Egyptian after Napoleon’s expedition. It was built in eighteen layers of stone to represent the eighteen states of the union. At the top of each side was the winged globe, which as Alexander points out, calls to mind “eternity and the flight of time.” The Griffins that perched on top of the tomb-like base symbolized immortality and had the form of eagles to tie that imagery to that of the United States. The fasces, would be eighteen feet high, continuing with the symbolism of the states. The rods of the fasces were bound with filets inscribed with the names of some of the defenders of Baltimore. At the bottom of the fasces were two bas reliefs, one representing the Bombardment of the Fort McHenry, the other depicting the Battle of North Point. The two reliefs were separated by lachrymal urns, Roman symbols of grief, in this case, mourning for the dead. The fasces was capped by section displaying the names of some of the men who fell in battle. This section rested on a wreath of cypress, a symbol of mourning; on top was a wreath of laurel, a sign of glory. Niles explained the statue at the top could represent either the United States or Baltimore; however, Alexander believes that the mural crown she lifts with her right hand, established her as a symbol of Baltimore. Her face was turned towards the Chesapeake, and an eagle and bomb rested at her feet. The monument was then surrounded by a fence of lances and cannon.
Praise cannot be reserved for the actual structure alone. The entire process of the building reflected the post-Battle surge of nationalism of Baltimore. Everything would reflect American ideals. The fund raising for the project is of note, and seems to reflect the ideals of American nationalism. The Committee appointed that its surplus funds would be appropriated for the project. To augment that fund, a subscription would be run; however, no person could contribute more than $5.00. At the end of each week the names of the subscribers, but the not sums given, would be published. Thus each person could contribute regardless of their financial state in life, and yet, since America was a land of equality, they would all receive equal recognition and thanks.
The third monument is frequently forgotten by historians and nearly everyone else. Yet, of the three, if any of them are to be called “American” the monument Aquilla Randall should claim the title. Two years after construction began on the Washington and Battle Monuments, the First Mechanical Volunteers, one of the companies of the Fifth Regiment which fought in the Battle of North Point, held a ceremony to erect a memorial to on of their fallen men: Aquila Randall. There was no great competition for its design, there was no sea of 30,000 people present; but what was expressed was perhaps the purest act of nationalistic devotion. Though it lacks the grandeur of the other two, it honors Baltimore’s role in the War and in place in country through the remembrance of a brave young patriot who sacrificed himself for, as the monument reads still today, “his country and his home.” Randall, was twenty-four years old when he was shot down near the same place where General Ross fell. Randall was believed to be the first Maryland militia man killed in the battle. Little is known of his life, but his death touched his brothers-in-arms and the citizens of the city he died defending. Captain Benjamin Howard, commander of the Regiment, delivered an address exhorting the people to live in the spirit of Randall’s sacrifice.
The monument was designed by Colonels Nathan Towson and Small. Its silhouette resembles Paul Revere’s ill-fated illuminated obelisk. The monument is not very tall, the base being about four feet, with a stubbly little obelisk of about the same height resting on top. Niles wrote that its design “has aimed at simplicity and neatness and…has not disappointed.”
But the monument had another twist: rumors had arisen in England that General Ross had fallen at Washington, not Baltimore. Baltimore was still, in the mind of the British, a backwater town, a filthy “nest of pirates.” Their beloved General certainly did not have the disgrace of dying there – he must have fallen in the capital of the rebellious United States if he had fallen at all. But no, Howard asserted, Ross had fallen here, and Baltimore would claim her just prize. She was just as great of a city as Washington; her men were the bravest, most loyal and true. In his own pride, he spoke, condemning that of the British:
The honors we pay are those we think are due. No more. With that sublime attribute of heaven, truth, engrafted upon them, they can be looked upon with more pride by those who give them and the friends of him on whom they are bestowed, than the most pompous and lordly testimonials, framed to feed national vanity at the expense of history and fact.
Home & Country versus Country & Home
This speech, both of the leaders of the city as well as the stone testaments of these monuments illustrated the concept of nationalism. It helped ground their feelings, so impassioned by the recent victory, to ensure that these emotions would not just pass away.
In 2 years, the emphasis is reversed – the country is more important than the home.
-John Quincy Adams visit in 1827. “Monumental City.”
- WAS BALTIMORE REALLY THE FIRST CITY TO ERECT MOMUMENTS? yes Other places did not get around until later (Ft Niagara, Queenston Monument)
Ft Stephenson 1885
Local historian Christopher George
