In 1827, the governments of the United States and Brazil were on most cordial terms. Emperor Dom Pedro I, who descended from the Portuguese royal house of Braganza, sat on the imperial throne of Brazil. In June of that year, the USS Cyane, a 32-gun frigate was operating with the U. S. Brazilian Squadron. The Cyane was experiencing difficulty with her mainmast and had received permission from the Squadron Commodore to put into Rio de Janeiro for repairs. She was tied up at the Imperial Brazilian Navy Yard, the facilities of Brazilian ports being at the disposal of American naval vessels. Also present was a new, 60-gun, American-built frigate purchased by Dom Pedro, who was attempting both to build up his navy and at the same time to put down an insurrection at St. Catherine. The 60-gun ship had been turned over to Brazil by Lieutenant (later Captain) Franklin Buchanan, U. S. Navy. She was then awaiting a captain and a crew.
The mainmast of the Cyane had to be removed and although it was customary for the First Lieutenant (equivalent to the Executive Officer of the modern navy) to supervise the unstepping of the mast, the Captain appointed a more junior lieutenant to oversee the job. The lieutenant was an ex-warrant officer who had entered the Navy as a sailing master from the Merchant Service at the outbreak of the War of 1812. In those days, sailing masters were experienced mariners who handled the navigation, rigging, and cargo stowage of naval vessels. During the Second War for Independence, this tall, strong, and capable officer, who had once been taken by a British press gang, sailed in the famous brig Argus aboard which ship he received his lieutenancy for outstanding service. He was captured again by the Bridsh, this time while commanding a prize vessel attempting flight from a British squadron to a French Channel port.
Released from the terrible Dartmoor Prison after the War, the young officer chose to remain in the service of his country. This lieutenant, who survived six courts martial, grounding, and the loss of a vessel under his command, several duels, years of forced inactivity, and dismissal by the infamous Board of Fifteen, later rose to become Captain Uriah Phillips Levy, U. S. Navy, Commodore of the U. S. Mediterranean Squadron and senior American naval officer.
Commodore Levy became famous for many reasons. Being a great admirer of Thomas Jefferson, he commissioned the French artist Pierre David d’Angers to create a bust of the former president which the Commodore presented to the U. S. Government and which may still be seen on exhibit in the rotunda of the Capitol. Commodore Levy also purchased and restored Monticello, and upon his death in 1862, he willed the estate to the U. S. Government to be used:
... for the sole and only purpose of establishing and maintaining at said Farm of Monticello in Virginia an Agricultural School for the purpose of educating as practical farmers children of the warrant office of the United States Navy whose Fathers are dead.
Perhaps the one achievement of his life for which he is most remembered is best expressed by the inscription on his tombstone in New York’s Cypress Hill Cemetery.
Uriah P. Levy Captain in the United States Navy Father of the law for the abolition of the barbarous practice of corporal punishment in the Navy of the United States.
He also wrote the Manual of Internal Rules and Regulations for Men-of-War.
But back in the 1830s, Lieutenant Levy was held in high esteem by midshipmen and seamen for his actions on a sunny June afternoon in Rio de Janeiro.
On that day, Midshipman John W. Moores, U. S. Navy, of the Cyane was proceeding through the navy yard on ship’s business. He stopped to watch a file of seamen being herded through the navy yard by a Brazilian press gang. Suddenly, one of the impressed sailors broke from his captors, ran up to Moores and informed the startled midshipman that he was a shanghaied American seaman. The distraught man begged him to help.
The young midshipman tried to reason with the Brazilian sailors, but since he spoke no Portuguese and they no English, his efforts were of no avail. Meanwhile, the Brazilians attempted to seize the American seaman. An old-fashioned Donnybrook ensued. At the moment, a Brazilian admiral and Lieutenant Levy appeared on the scene from opposite directions. Moores gave the admiral a straight right which flattened him for the remainder of the encounter. Moores was then hit hard and went down. The Brazilians immediately drew their weapons and a sabre stroke descended towards Moores’ head. Levy, jumping into the melee, blocked the thrust with his bare hands, receiving a blow that both smashed his finger and cut him. Another Brazilian jabbed his bayonet into Levy’s side, but Levy, an experienced swordsman and notorious dueler, got Moores to his feet. He wrapped a neckerchief around his bleeding hand, and the three Americans then fought their way back to the Cyane where the watch came to their rescue.
Years later, Moores wrote a letter thanking the Commodore for saving his life.
The next morning, Levy received a call from Dom Pedro. The emperor often visited the navy yard and had been told about the incident. He also had been impressed by the expeditious and skillful manner in which Levy had supervised the replacement of the mast. Present at the meeting between Dom Pedro and Levy were Captain Haddaman, formerly of the Austrian Army, then in the service of the U. S. Navy as Professor of Mathematics and Languages aboard the Cyane, and Lieutenant Peter Turner, U. S. Navy.
The conversation between the Brazilian Emperor and the American naval officer was in French, and Haddaman translated the word exchange to Turner who later recorded the incident.
The emperor complimented the 35-year- old lieutenant on the way he had entered the fight against superior numbers and had come to the aid of not only his brother officer but also a seaman, a common man. Dom Pedro stated that he wished he had such zealous officers in his own navy. Then, to the astonishment of all present, Dom Pedro offered Levy a captaincy in the Brazilian Navy and command of the new 60-gun frigate tied up nearby.
Lieutenant Levy was momentarily taken aback; however, he answered without hesitation that he was very grateful for the honor and kindness shown to him, but that he must decline. He told the Emperor that he loved his own service well. Smiling good naturedly but speaking in dead earnest, Lieutenant Uriah Phillips Levy, U. S. Navy, said to Dom Pedro I, Emperor of Brazil,
“Sir, I would rather serve as a cabin boy in the American Navy than as a captain in any other service in the world.”