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Title: History of the United States of America, Volume 7 (of 9)
        During the second administration of James Madison

Author: Henry Adams

Release date: January 31, 2024 [eBook #72846]

Language: English

Original publication: New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1889

Credits: Richard Hulse and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, VOLUME 7 (OF 9) ***





Transcriber’s Note: Italics are enclosed in _underscores_. Additional
notes will be found near the end of this ebook.




                                  THE

                         SECOND ADMINISTRATION

                                   OF

                             JAMES MADISON

                               1813–1817




                     HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES.

                                   BY

                              HENRY ADAMS.


  VOLS. I. AND II.--THE FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF JEFFERSON.
      1801–1805.

  VOLS. III. AND IV.--THE SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF JEFFERSON.
      1805–1809.

  VOLS. V. AND VI.--THE FIRST ADMINISTRATION OF MADISON. 1809–1813.

  VOLS. VII., VIII., AND IX.--THE SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF MADISON.
      1813–1817. WITH AN INDEX TO THE ENTIRE WORK.




                                HISTORY

                                 OF THE

                        UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

                  DURING THE SECOND ADMINISTRATION OF

                             JAMES MADISON


                             BY HENRY ADAMS


                                VOL. I.


                                NEW YORK
                        CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
                                  1891




                           _Copyright, 1890_
                      BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS.


                           University Press:
                    JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.




CONTENTS OF VOL. I.


 CHAPTER                                                            PAGE
     I. ENGLAND ANGRY                                                  1

    II. RUSSIAN MEDIATION                                             26

   III. THE EXTRA SESSION OF 1813                                     48

    IV. THE RIVER RAISIN                                              72

     V. PROCTOR AND PERRY                                             99

    VI. THE BATTLE OF THE THAMES                                     128

   VII. DEARBORN’S CAMPAIGN                                          144

  VIII. WILKINSON’S CAMPAIGN                                         172

    IX. MOBILE AND FORT MIMS                                         206

     X. CAMPAIGNS AMONG THE CREEKS                                   232

    XI. THE BLOCKADE                                                 262

   XII. “CHESAPEAKE” AND “ARGUS”                                     285

  XIII. PRIVATEERING                                                 309

   XIV. RUSSIA AND ENGLAND                                           339

    XV. THE LAST EMBARGO                                             364

   XVI. MONROE AND ARMSTRONG                                         391




HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES.




CHAPTER I.


THE American declaration of war against England, July 18, 1812, annoyed
those European nations that were gathering their utmost resources for
resistance to Napoleon’s attack. Russia could not but regard it as an
unfriendly act, equally bad for political and commercial interests.
Spain and Portugal, whose armies were fed largely if not chiefly on
American grain imported by British money under British protection,
dreaded to see their supplies cut off. Germany, waiting only for
strength to recover her freedom, had to reckon against one more element
in Napoleon’s vast military resources. England needed to make greater
efforts in order to maintain the advantages she had gained in Russia
and Spain. Even in America, no one doubted the earnestness of England’s
wish for peace; and if Madison and Monroe insisted on her acquiescence
in their terms, they insisted because they believed that their military
position entitled them to expect it. The reconquest of Russia and
Spain by Napoleon, an event almost certain to happen, could hardly fail
to force from England the concessions, not in themselves unreasonable,
which the United States required.

This was, as Madison to the end of his life maintained, “a fair
calculation;”[1] but it was exasperating to England, who thought that
America ought to be equally interested with Europe in overthrowing
the military despotism of Napoleon, and should not conspire with him
for gain. At first the new war disconcerted the feeble Ministry that
remained in office on the death of Spencer Perceval: they counted on
preventing it, and did their utmost to stop it after it was begun.
The tone of arrogance which had so long characterized government and
press, disappeared for the moment. Obscure newspapers, like the London
“Evening Star,” still sneered at the idea that Great Britain was to be
“driven from the proud pre-eminence which the blood and treasure of her
sons have attained for her among the nations, by a piece of striped
bunting flying at the mastheads of a few fir-built frigates, manned by
a handful of bastards and outlaws,”--a phrase which had great success
in America,--but such defiances expressed a temper studiously held in
restraint previous to the moment when the war was seen to be inevitable.

Castlereagh did not abandon the hope of peace until Jonathan Russell,
August 24, reported to him the concessions which the President required
antecedent to negotiation, the stoppage of impressments, dismissal
of impressed seamen, indemnity for spoliations, and abandonment of
paper blockades. The British secretary intimated that he thought
these demands, as conditions precedent to an armistice, somewhat
insulting;[2] and in conversation he explained to Russell that such
concessions would merely cost the Ministry their places without result.
“You are not aware,” he said,[3] “of the great sensibility and jealousy
of the people of England on this subject; and no administration could
expect to remain in power that should consent to renounce the right
of impressment or to suspend the practice, without certainty of an
arrangement which should obviously be calculated to secure its object.”
Russell then proposed an informal understanding,--adding of his own
accord, without authority from his Government, a proposal, afterward
adopted by Congress, that the United States should naturalize no more
British seamen. Castlereagh made the obvious reply that an informal
understanding offered no more guaranty to England than a formal one;
that it had the additional disadvantage of bearing on its face a
character of disguise; that in any case the discussion of guaranties
must precede the understanding; and that Russell had on this subject
neither authority nor instructions.[4]

The correspondence closed September 19, and Russell left England; but
not until October 13, after learning that the President had refused to
ratify the armistice made by Prevost with Dearborn, did the British
government order general reprisals,--and even this order closed with
a proviso that nothing therein contained should affect the previous
authority given to Admiral Sir John Borlase Warren to arrange a
cessation of hostilities.

The realization that no escape could be found from an American war
was forced on the British public at a moment of much discouragement.
Almost simultaneously a series of misfortunes occurred which brought
the stoutest and most intelligent Englishmen to the verge of despair.
In Spain Wellington, after winning the battle of Salamanca in July,
occupied Madrid in August, and obliged Soult to evacuate Andalusia; but
his siege of Burgos failed, and as the French generals concentrated
their scattered forces, Wellington was obliged to abandon Madrid
once more. October 21, he was again in full retreat on Portugal.
The apparent failure of his campaign was almost simultaneous with
the apparent success of Napoleon’s; for the Emperor entered Moscow
September 14, and the news of this triumph, probably decisive of
Russian submission, reached England about October 3. Three days later
arrived intelligence of William Hull’s surrender at Detroit; but this
success was counterbalanced by simultaneous news of Isaac Hull’s
startling capture of the “Guerriere,” and the certainty of a prolonged
war.

In the desponding condition of the British people,--with a deficient
harvest, bad weather, wheat at nearly five dollars a bushel, and the
American supply likely to be cut off; consols at 57½, gold at thirty
per cent premium; a Ministry without credit or authority, and a general
consciousness of blunders, incompetence, and corruption,--every new
tale of disaster sank the hopes of England and called out wails of
despair. In that state of mind the loss of the “Guerriere” assumed
portentous dimensions. The “Times” was especially loud in lamenting the
capture:--

    “We witnessed the gloom which that event cast over high and
    honorable minds.... Never before in the history of the world did
    an English frigate strike to an American; and though we cannot say
    that Captain Dacres, under all circumstances, is punishable for
    this act, yet we do say there are commanders in the English navy
    who would a thousand times rather have gone down with their colors
    flying, than have set their fellow sailors so fatal an example.”

No country newspaper in America, railing at Hull’s cowardice and
treachery, showed less knowledge or judgment than the London “Times,”
which had written of nothing but war since its name had been known
in England. Any American could have assured the English press that
British frigates before the “Guerriere” had struck to American;
and even in England men had not forgotten the name of the British
frigate “Serapis,” or that of the American captain Paul Jones. Yet
the “Times’s” ignorance was less unreasonable than its requirement
that Dacres should have gone down with his ship,--a cry of passion
the more unjust to Dacres because he fought his ship as long as she
could float. Such sensitiveness seemed extravagant in a society which
had been hardened by centuries of warfare; yet the “Times” reflected
fairly the feelings of Englishmen. George Canning, speaking in open
Parliament not long afterward,[5] said that the loss of the “Guerriere”
and the “Macedonian” produced a sensation in the country scarcely to
be equalled by the most violent convulsions of Nature. “Neither can I
agree with those who complain of the shock of consternation throughout
Great Britain as having been greater than the occasion required.... It
cannot be too deeply felt that the sacred spell of the invincibility of
the British navy was broken by those unfortunate captures.”

Of all spells that could be cast on a nation, that of believing itself
invincible was perhaps the one most profitably broken; but the process
of recovering its senses was agreeable to no nation, and to England, at
that moment of distress, it was as painful as Canning described. The
matter was not mended by the “Courier” and “Morning Post,” who, taking
their tone from the Admiralty, complained of the enormous superiority
of the American frigates, and called them “line-of-battle ships in
disguise.” Certainly the American forty-four was a much heavier ship
than the British thirty-eight, but the difference had been as well
known in the British navy before these actions as it was afterward; and
Captain Dacres himself, the Englishman who best knew the relative force
of the ships, told his court of inquiry a different story:[6] “I am so
well aware that the success of my opponent was owing to fortune, that
it is my earnest wish, and would be the happiest period of my life, to
be once more opposed to the ‘Constitution,’ with them [the old crew]
under my command, in a frigate of similar force with the ‘Guerriere.’”
After all had been said, the unpleasant result remained that in future
British frigates, like other frigates, could safely fight only their
inferiors in force. What applied to the “Guerriere” and “Macedonian”
against the “Constitution” and “United States,” where the British force
was inferior, applied equally to the “Frolic” against the “Wasp,” where
no inferiority could be shown. The British newspapers thenceforward
admitted what America wished to prove, that, ship for ship, British
were no more than the equals of Americans.

Society soon learned to take a more sensible view of the subject,
but as the first depression passed away a consciousness of personal
wrong took its place. The United States were supposed to have stabbed
England in the back at the moment when her hands were tied, when her
existence was in the most deadly peril and her anxieties were most
heavy. England never could forgive treason so base and cowardice so
vile. That Madison had been from the first a tool and accomplice of
Bonaparte was thenceforward so fixed an idea in British history that
time could not shake it. Indeed, so complicated and so historical had
the causes of war become that no one even in America could explain or
understand them, while Englishmen could see only that America required
England as the price of peace to destroy herself by abandoning her
naval power, and that England preferred to die fighting rather than to
die by her own hand. The American party in England was extinguished;
no further protest was heard against the war; and the British people
thought moodily of revenge.

This result was unfortunate for both parties, but was doubly
unfortunate for America, because her mode of making the issue told
in her enemy’s favor. The same impressions which silenced in England
open sympathy with America, stimulated in America acute sympathy with
England. Argument was useless against people in a passion, convinced
of their own injuries. Neither Englishmen nor Federalists were open to
reasoning. They found their action easy from the moment they classed
the United States as an ally of France, like Bavaria or Saxony; and
they had no scruples of conscience, for the practical alliance was
clear, and the fact proved sufficiently the intent.

This outbreak of feeling took place in the month of October, when the
hopes of England were lowest. While Wellington retreated from Madrid
and Burgos to Ciudad Rodrigo; while Napoleon was supposed to be still
victorious at Moscow, although his retreat began October 19, two days
before Wellington abandoned the siege of Burgos; and while, October 18,
the “Wasp” captured the “Frolic,” and October 25 the “United States”
captured the “Macedonian,”--in England public opinion broke into outcry
against the temporizing conduct of the government toward America, and
demanded vigorous prosecution of the war.

    “In any other times than the present,” said the “Times” of October
    30, “it would appear utterly incredible that men should adopt
    so drivelling a line of conduct as to think of waging a war of
    conciliation and forbearance, and that with enemies whom they
    themselves represent as alike faithless and implacable.”

The Government hastened to pacify these complaints. Orders were given
to hurry an overwhelming force of ships-of-the-line and frigates to the
American coast. Almost immediately England recovered from her dismay;
for November 11 news arrived that the Russians were again masters of
Moscow, and that Napoleon was retreating. Day after day the posts
arrived from Russia, bringing accounts more and more encouraging, until
when Parliament met, November 24, the hope that Napoleon might never
escape from Russia had become strong.

Thus the new Ministry found themselves able to face opposition with
unexpected strength. Madison’s calculations, reasonable as they seemed
to be, were overthrown, and the glow of English delight over the
success of Russia made the burden of the American war seem easy to
bear. In Parliament hardly a voice was raised for peace. The Marquess
Wellesley in the debate on the King’s speech attacked ministers,
not because they had brought the country into war with America, but
because they had been unprepared for it; “they ought as statesmen to
have known that the American government had been long infected with
a deadly hatred toward this country, and, if he might be allowed
an unusual application of a word, with a deadly affection toward
France.”[7] America had been suffered to carry on hostilities without
danger to herself, and must be convinced of her folly and desperation.
Lord Grenville also asserted that the American government was always
hostile to England, but that only the conduct of ministers had enabled
it to pluck up courage to show its enmity.[8] Canning, in the Commons,
attacked still more sharply the forbearance of the Ministry and their
silence toward America:

    “It never entered into my mind that the mighty naval power of
    England would be allowed to sleep while our commerce was swept
    from the surface of the Atlantic; and that at the end of six
    months’ war it would be proclaimed in a speech from the throne that
    the time was now at length come when the long-withheld thunder of
    Britain must be launched against an implacable foe, and the fulness
    of her power at length drawn out. It never entered into my mind
    that we should send a fleet to take rest and shelter in our own
    ports in North America, and that we should then attack the American
    ports with a flag of truce.”[9]

From such criticisms Lord Castlereagh had no difficulty in defending
himself. Whitbread alone maintained that injustice had been done to
America, and that measures ought to be taken for peace.

This debate took place November 30, two days after the destruction of
Napoleon’s army in passing the Beresina. From that moment, and during
the next eighteen months, England had other matters to occupy her mind
than the disagreeable subject of the American war. Napoleon arrived in
Paris December 18, and set himself to the task of renewing the army of
half a million men which had been lost in Russia, and of strengthening
his hold on Germany, where a violent popular emotion threatened to
break into open alliance with the Russian Czar. December 30 the
Prussian corps of the Grand Army deserted to the Russians; and soon
afterward the French abandoned Poland and the province of old Prussia,
and with difficulty, no enemy attacking, held Berlin. The interest
of England turned to the negotiations and military movements of the
Continent, After January 1, 1813, Englishmen never willingly thought of
the American war, or gave attention to terms of peace. They regarded
the result in America as dependent on the result in Germany; and they
would have ignored the war altogether had not the American frigates and
privateers from time to time compelled their attention.

With the prospect of a great trade about to open with the continent
of Europe, as the French garrisons were driven out of Germany and
Spain, English manufacturers could afford to wait with patience for
better times; but although a nation so long accustomed to the chances
of war could adapt itself quickly to changes in the course of trade,
England felt more than it liked to admit the annoyance of American
hostilities on the ocean. During the first few months this annoyance
was the greater because it was thought to be the result of official
negligence. December 30, a merchant writing to the “Times” declared
that “the Americans have taken upward of two hundred sail of British
merchantmen and three or four packets from the West Indies. Recent
advices from the Windward Islands state that the Admiral is mortified
at the depredations of the American privateers, it not being in his
power to prevent them, most of the few cruisers under his orders having
been out so long from England that their copper is nearly off,--so that
the privateers remain unmolested, as they can sail round our ships
whenever they think proper; they are in consequence become so daring
as even to cut vessels out of harbors, though protected by batteries,
and to land and carry off cattle from plantations. The accounts from
Jamaica by the mail which arrived on Friday represent that island to be
literally blockaded by American privateers.”

When the press spoke at all of naval matters, it talked wildly about
the American frigates. “Such fearful odds,” said the “Morning Post” in
regard to the “Macedonian,” December 26, “would break the heart and
spirit of our sailors, and dissolve that charm, that spell, which has
made our navy invincible.” “The land-spell of the French is broken,
and so is our sea-spell,” said the “Times.” The American frigates were
exaggerated into ships-of-the-line, and were to be treated as such,
British frigates keeping out of their way. At first, the British naval
officers hesitated to accept this view of a subject which had never
before been suggested. Neither Captain Dacres nor his court-martial
attributed his defeat to this cause; but before long, nearly all
England agreed to rate the American frigates as seventy-fours, and
complained that the Americans, with their accustomed duplicity, should
have deceived the British navy by representing the “Constitution” and
“United States” to be frigates. The “Times” protested in vain against
this weakness:--

    “Good God! that a few short months should have so altered the tone
    of British sentiments! Is it true, or is it not, that our navy was
    accustomed to hold the Americans in utter contempt? Is it true, or
    is it not, that the ‘Guerriere’ sailed up and down the American
    coast with her name painted in large characters on her sails, in
    boyish defiance of Commodore Rodgers? Would any captain, however
    young, have indulged such a foolish piece of vain-boasting if he
    had not been carried forward by the almost unanimous feeling of his
    associates?”[10]

To the charge that the British Admiralty had been taken unprepared by
the war, the Admiralty replied that its naval force on the American
station at the outbreak of hostilities exceeded the American in the
proportion of eighty-five to fourteen.

    “We have since sent out more line-of-battle ships and heavier
    frigates,” added the “Times,” January 4, 1813. “Surely we must now
    mean to smother the American navy.... A very short time before the
    capture of the ‘Guerriere’ an American frigate was an object of
    ridicule to our honest tars. Now the prejudice is actually setting
    the other way, and great pains seem to be taken by the friends of
    ministers to prepare the public for the surrender of a British
    seventy-four to an opponent lately so much contemned.”

The loss of two or three thirty-eight gun frigates on the ocean was a
matter of trifling consequence to the British government, which had a
force of four ships-of-the-line and six or eight frigates in Chesapeake
Bay alone, and which built every year dozens of ships-of-the-line
and frigates to replace those lost or worn out; but although the
American privateers wrought more injury to British interests than was
caused or could be caused by the American navy, the pride of England
cared little about mercantile losses, and cared immensely for its
fighting reputation. The theory that the American was a degenerate
Englishman,--a theory chiefly due to American teachings,--lay at
the bottom of British politics. Even the late British minister at
Washington, Foster, a man of average intelligence, thought it manifest
good taste and good sense to say of the Americans in his speech of
February 18, 1813, in Parliament, that “generally speaking, they were
not a people we should be proud to acknowledge as our relations.”[11]
Decatur and Hull were engaged in a social rather than in a political
contest, and were aware that the serious work on their hands had little
to do with England’s power, but much to do with her manners. The
mortification of England at the capture of her frigates was the measure
of her previous arrogance.

The process of acquiring knowledge in such light as was furnished by
the cannon of Hull, Decatur, and Bainbridge could not be rendered easy
or rapid. News of the American victories dropped in at intervals, as
though American captains intentionally prolonged the enjoyment of their
certain success, in order to keep England in constant ill temper.
News of the “Java” arrived about the middle of March, and once more
the press broke into a chorus of complaints. The “Times” renewed its
outcry; the “Courier” abused the “Times” for its “tone of whining
lamentation, of affected sensibility, and puerile grief,” but admitted
that the behavior of the American frigates seemed extraordinary; while
the “Pilot,” the chief naval authority, lamented in set periods the
incomprehensible event:--

    “The public will learn, with sentiments which we shall not
    presume to anticipate, that a third British frigate has struck
    to an American. This is an occurrence that calls for serious
    reflection,--this, and the fact stated in our paper of yesterday,
    that Loyd’s list contains notices of upwards of five hundred
    British vessels captured in seven months by the Americans. Five
    hundred merchantmen and three frigates! Can these statements be
    true; and can the English people hear them unmoved? Any one who
    had predicted such a result of an American war this time last year
    would have been treated as a madman or a traitor. He would have
    been told, if his opponents had condescended to argue with him,
    that long ere seven months had elapsed the American flag would be
    swept from the seas, the contemptible navy of the United States
    annihilated, and their maritime arsenals rendered a heap of ruins.
    Yet down to this moment not a single American frigate has struck
    her flag. They insult and laugh at our want of enterprise and
    vigor. They leave their ports when they please, and return to them
    when it suits their convenience; they traverse the Atlantic; they
    beset the West India Islands; they advance to the very chops of the
    Channel; they parade along the coasts of South America; nothing
    chases, nothing intercepts, nothing engages them but to yield them
    triumph.”

The immediate moral drawn from these complaints was the necessity of
punishing the United States; but no one could longer deny that the
necessary punishment was likely to prove tedious and costly. February
18 Parliament took up the subject of the American war, and both
Houses debated it. In the Lords, Bathurst made a temperate speech
devoted to showing that America in claiming immunity from impressments
claimed more than England could afford to yield,--“a right hitherto
exercised without dispute, and of the most essential importance to our
maritime superiority.” Lord Lansdowne replied with tact and judgment,
rather hinting than saying that the right was becoming too costly
for assertion. “Some time ago it was imagined on all hands that in
the event of a war with America, the first operation would be the
destruction of her navy. What the fact had turned out to be, he was
almost ashamed to mention. If any one were asked what had been the
success of our navy in this war, he would unfortunately find some
difficulty in giving an answer.”[12] Lord Liverpool, while defending
his administration from the charge of imbecility, tended to strengthen
the prevailing impression by the tone of his complaints against
America: “Although she might have had wrongs, although she might
have had grounds for complaint, although she might have had pressing
provocations, yet she ought to have looked to this country as the
guardian power to which she was indebted not only for her comforts,
not only for her rank in the scale of civilization, but for her very
existence.”[13] Perhaps these words offered as good an explanation as
the Prime Minister could give of the war itself, for apart from the
unconscious sarcasm they contained, they implied that England assumed
to act as guardian to the United States, and had hitherto denied to the
United States the right to act independently.

Both Lord Holland and Lord Erskine gently glanced at this assumption;
and Erskine went so far as to intimate that sooner or later England
must give way. “It has been said that this war, if the Americans
persist in their claims, must be eternal. If so, our prospects are
disheartening. America is a growing country,--increasing every day
in numbers, in strength, in resources of every kind. In a lengthened
contest all the advantages are on her side, and against this country.”
The warning lost none of its point from Lord Eldon, who, always ready
to meet any logical necessity by an equally logical absurdity, granted
that “unless America should think proper to alter her tone, he did not
see how the national differences could be settled.”

Such a debate was little likely to discourage America. Every country
must begin war by asserting that it will never give way, and of all
countries England, which had waged innumerable wars, knew best when
perseverance cost more than concession. Even at that early moment
Parliament was evidently perplexed, and would willingly have yielded
had it seen means of escape from its naval fetich, impressment.
Perhaps the perplexity was more evident in the Commons than in the
Lords, for Castlereagh, while defending his own course with elaborate
care, visibly stumbled over the right of impressment. Even while
claiming that its abandonment would have been “vitally dangerous if
not fatal” to England’s security, he added that he “would be the last
man in the world to underrate the inconvenience which the Americans
sustained in consequence of our assertion of the right of search.” The
embarrassment became still plainer when he narrowed the question to one
of statistics, and showed that the whole contest was waged over the
forcible retention of some eight hundred seamen among one hundred and
forty-five thousand employed in British service. Granting the number
were twice as great, he continued, “could the House believe that there
was any man so infatuated, or that the British empire was driven to
such straits, that for such a paltry consideration as seventeen hundred
sailors, his Majesty’s government would needlessly irritate the pride
of a neutral nation or violate that justice which was due to one
country from another?” If Liverpool’s argument explained the causes of
war, Castlereagh’s explained its inevitable result, for since the war
must cost England at least ten million pounds a year, could Parliament
be so infatuated as to pay ten thousand pounds a year for each American
sailor detained in service, when one tenth of the amount, if employed
in raising the wages of the British sailor, would bring any required
number of seamen back to their ships? The whole British navy in 1812
cost twenty million pounds; the pay-roll amounted to only three million
pounds; the common sailor was paid four pounds bounty and eighteen
pounds a year, which might have been trebled at half the cost of an
American war.

No one rose in the House to press this reasoning. Castlereagh completed
his argument, showing, with more temper than logic, that England was
wholly in the right and America altogether in the wrong; the American
government and people were infatuated; they had an inordinate and
insolent spirit of encroachment and unreasonable hostility; had
prostituted their character and showed an unexampled degeneracy of
feeling. “For America he confessed that he deeply lamented the injury
which her character had sustained by the conduct of her government; it
was conduct unworthy of any State calling itself civilized and free.”

Castlereagh’s invective had the merit of being as little serious as his
logic, and left as little sting; but what Castlereagh could say without
causing more than a smile, never failed to exasperate Americans like
drops of vitriol when it came from the lips of George Canning. Canning
had not hitherto succeeded better in winning the confidence of England
than in curbing the insolence of America; he was still in opposition,
while the man whom in 1807 he could hardly condescend to consider a
rival was Secretary for Foreign Affairs and leader of the House. Worst
of all, Canning could not escape the necessity of supporting him, for
Castlereagh’s position in regard to America was strong, while Canning’s
own position was weak and needed constant excuse. In the debate of
Feb. 18, 1813, he undertook the difficult task of appearing to attack
Castlereagh while defending himself.

Canning’s speech began by an argument so characteristic as to win the
praise of John Wilson Croker, Secretary to the Admiralty,--a man less
than most politicians prone to waste praise on opponents. Whitbread
had quoted, in excuse of the American practice of naturalization, two
Acts of Parliament,--one the 6th Anne, according to which any foreigner
who served two years in any British vessel, military or merchant,
without further condition or even oath, or more than the statement of
the fact of service, became entitled to every protection of a natural
subject of the realm. No words could be more emphatic than those of
the statutes. “Such foreign mariner,” said the 6th Anne, “shall to all
intents and purposes be deemed and taken to be a natural-born subject
of his Majesty’s kingdom of Great Britain, and have and enjoy all the
privileges, powers, rights, and capacities” which a native could enjoy.
Again, by the 13th George II. every foreign seaman who in time of war
served two years on board an English ship by virtue of the king’s
proclamation was _ipso facto_ naturalized. Other naturalization laws
existed, guaranteeing all the privileges of a natural-born subject to
foreigners under certain conditions; but the Acts of Anne and George
II. were most in point, as they referred to foreign sailors alone;
and with these laws on the statute-book Parliament seemed to stand in
an unfavorable position for disputing the right of America to adopt a
similar system. Canning’s argument on the meaning of these statutes was
interesting, not only as an example of his own mind, but as the only
legal justification of a long war which England fought against America
at prodigious expense,--a justification which she maintained for years
to be sound.

    “My construction of the Acts of Anne was altogether different,”
    said Canning in reply to these quotations. “I understood that by
    it this country professed to give that only which it is competent
    to bestow without interfering in any degree with the rights or
    claims of other Powers; that it imparted to foreigners on certain
    conditions certain municipal privileges, but leaves untouched and
    unimpaired their native allegiance.... The enactments of this
    statute are a testimony of national gratitude to brave men of
    whatever country who may lend their aid in fighting the battles
    of Great Britain, but not an invitation to them to abandon the
    cause of their own country when it may want their aid; not an
    encouragement to them to deny or to undervalue the sacred and
    indestructible duty which they owe to their own sovereign and to
    their native soil.”

Something peculiarly sacred must have inhered in the statute of Anne
which thus conferred naturalization on Dutch or Swedish seamen as “a
testimony of national gratitude” for “fighting the battles of Great
Britain” for two years in the British merchant service in time of
peace, and converted them into citizens enjoying “all the privileges,
powers, rights, and capacities” of natural-born subjects of Great
Britain, which consisted, according to Canning, only in “certain
municipal privileges” in England, subject to the will of a foreign
sovereign. Such a definition of the “privileges, powers, rights, and
capacities” of a natural-born subject of his Majesty’s kingdom of
Great Britain seemed new to American lawyers; but it was received with
applause by the House, and was further developed by Croker, who laid
down the principle, new to the popular view of England’s pride, that
the naturalized citizen, who was by the law required “to all intents
and purposes” to “be deemed and taken to be a natural-born subject,”
was in fact by the Admiralty “considered as having two countries,--the
voluntary service of the one being looked upon as unable to debar the
natural allegiance to the other.”

The rest of Canning’s speech consisted in defence of impressment
and of paper blockades, and in panegyric upon European republics
at the expense of “the hard features of transatlantic democracy.”
While assailing the British government because “the arm which should
have launched the thunderbolt was occupied in guiding the pen,” he
expressed his devout wish that the war might not be concluded until
England had smothered in victories the disasters to which she was
so little habituated. If an harangue of this character served in
any degree to guide or aid the councils of England, it served much
more effectually the war-party of America, where Canning was held in
singular antipathy, and where every admission he made in regard to “the
shock of consternation” caused by the American frigates gave pleasure
more acute than any pain his sarcastic phrases could thenceforward
inflict.

Alexander Baring spoke with his usual good sense, pointing out that
Castlereagh’s speech proved chiefly the greater interest of England
to call for and court negotiation on the subject of impressments.
Whitbread challenged public opinion by going to the verge of actual
sympathy with America. The debate ended in an unopposed vote for
a vigorous prosecution of the war, leaving the subject in truth
untouched, except that England had avowed an extreme desire to punish
America, and naturally felt an extreme irritation because America
showed ability to bear punishment.

The spring came, bringing no new prospects. England refused to make a
suggestion on which the governments could discuss terms of peace. She
refused even to think upon the problem, but massed a huge armament in
Chesapeake Bay and Delaware River to restore her naval invincibility.
Yet reflection seemed still to be silently at work, for, March 22,
the “Times” interrupted its outcry over the loss of the “Java” by
publishing a temperate article on the new Foreign Seamen Bill of
Congress,--an article in which the suggestion first appeared that peace
might after all be restored by simply omitting in the pacification any
mention of impressment. The idea found support nowhere; but while,
insufficient as it seemed, the human imagination could hardly conceive
of any other expedient, at the same moment the uselessness of trying
to obtain peace on any terms was made clear by the interference of the
Russian Czar.




CHAPTER II.


NAPOLEON declared war against Russia June 22, four days after the
American declaration against England; crossed the Niemen June 24,
and August 1 was already at Vitebsk, about three hundred miles south
of St. Petersburg, and about equally distant from the frontier and
from Moscow. There, in the heart of Russia, he paused to collect his
strength for some blow that should lay the Russian empire at his feet;
and while he hesitated, the Czar, August 3, returned to his capital to
wait. At that moment the chances of war favored Napoleon. Nothing was
more likely than his success in destroying the Russian army, and in
dictating terms of peace in St. Petersburg.

News of the American declaration of war reached St. Petersburg August
6, and added a new anxiety to the overburdened mind of Alexander. The
American minister at that court found himself in a delicate position.
His Government declared war against England and became for military
purposes an ally of France at the moment when Russia entered into
formal alliance with England and went to war with France. If Napoleon
caught and crushed the Russian army and marched on St. Petersburg,
the American minister would certainly be no favorite with Russians;
if Napoleon were beaten, the American minister need expect no
consideration, for in that case every influence at the Russian Court
was certain to be English, and from England could come no favors.

At the moment when Brock, with his force of a few hundred men attacked
Detroit, Napoleon with two hundred thousand men moved upon Smolensk and
the Russian army. August 15, he celebrated his fête-day on the banks
of the Dnieper; and while Hull was surrendering the fort of Detroit,
the Russian army, hardly in better humor than the Ohio militia, were
preparing to abandon Smolensk to save themselves from Hull’s fate.
Napoleon took possession of the town August 18, but failed to destroy
the Russian army, and then, turning away from St. Petersburg, pursued
his retreating enemy toward Moscow. The battle of Borodino, or Moscowa,
followed, September 6, and the French army entered Moscow September 14.
There it remained more than a month.

During these weeks of alarm and incessant fighting, the Czar still
found time to think of American affairs. The influence of Count
Roumanzoff, though lessening every day, still controlled the regular
course of foreign relations. September 21 Roumanzoff sent for Adams,
and said that the Emperor had been much concerned to find the interests
of his subjects defeated and lost by the new war, and it had occurred
to him that perhaps an arrangement might be more easily made by an
indirect than by a direct negotiation: he wished to know whether an
offer of mediation on his part would meet with any difficulty on the
part of the United States.[14] Adams replied that his Government could
not fail to consider it as a new evidence of the Czar’s friendship, but
suggested that there was a third party to be consulted,--the British
government. Roumanzoff answered that he had already sounded the British
minister, who had written to Lord Castlereagh on the subject.

The British minister, lately arrived in Russia, was not a person
calculated to aid Roumanzoff. Lord Cathcart, who had been chosen by
Castlereagh for the post of ambassador at St. Petersburg, was best
known as the commander of the Copenhagen expedition in 1807. Some
Americans might perhaps remember that he had served in America during
the Revolutionary War. A well-informed writer in the London “Times,”
who belonged to the Wellesley interest, seemed to doubt Lord Cathcart’s
qualifications for his new post. “He is only better fitted for it than
the horse he rides,” was the criticism;[15] but the better he had been
fitted for it, the worse he would have suited Roumanzoff’s purpose,
for his first object could be no other than to overthrow Roumanzoff
and thwart his policy. No serious support of Russian mediation could
be expected from him. He began his career by seeking access to the
Emperor through other channels than the chancellor.[16]

Adams, September 30, advised his Government of the Czar’s proposed
mediation. October 15, Roumanzoff announced that his proposal was
ready, and would be sent at once to Washington,--which was actually
done, before receiving a reply from London. The step could hardly
please the British government; but Roumanzoff seemed almost to take
pleasure in disregarding England, and perhaps felt that the course of
events must either remove him entirely from the government, or make him
independent of British support. He clung to the American mediation as
the last remnant of his anti-British policy.

The British government would have preferred to make no answer to the
Russian offer of mediation. To English statesmen the idea was absurd
that England could allow Russia, more than France or the United States
themselves, to mediate on blockade and impressment, or upon points of
neutrality in any form; but Castlereagh had every reason to conciliate
the Czar, and rather than flatly reject a suggestion from such a
source, he replied that he thought the time had not yet come, and that
the offer would not be accepted by America.[17] So it happened that the
offer of Russian mediation went to America without positive objection
from England, finding its way slowly across the Atlantic during the
winter months.

With it went the tale of Napoleon’s immense disaster. October 23 he
began his retreat; November 23 he succeeded in crossing the Beresina
and escaping capture; December 5 he abandoned what was still left of
his army; and December 19, after travelling secretly and without rest
across Europe, he appeared suddenly in Paris, still powerful, but in
danger. Nothing could be better calculated to support the Russian
mediation in the President’s mind. The possibility of remaining without
a friend in the world while carrying on a war without hope of success,
gave to the Czar’s friendship a value altogether new.

Other news crossed the ocean at the same time, but encouraged no hope
that England would give way. First in importance, and not to be trifled
with, was the British official announcement, dated December 26, 1812,
of the blockade of the Chesapeake and Delaware. Americans held that
this blockade was illegal,[18]--a blockade of a coast, not of a port; a
paper-blockade, one of the grievances against which the war was waged;
but whatever they might choose to call it, they could not successfully
disprove its efficiency, or deny that it made Chesapeake Bay, Delaware
River, and the Vineyard Sound little better than British waters. Export
of American produce from the Chesapeake and Delaware ceased.

The blockade, though serious beyond all other military measures,
roused less attention and less protest than another measure of the
British government which had the character of a profitable insult. A
circular dated November 9, addressed to the governors of West Indian
colonies by the British government, authorized them to issue licenses
for importation of necessary supplies during the war,--a precaution
commonly taken to meet the risk of famine in those regions. The
Governor of the Bermudas, in issuing a proclamation January 14, 1813,
published the circular, which contained one unusual provision:[19]--

    “Whatever importations are proposed to be made, under the order,
    from the United States of America, should be by your licenses
    confined to the ports in the Eastern States exclusively, unless
    you have reason to suppose that the object of the order would not
    be fulfilled if licenses are not also granted for the importations
    from the other ports in the United States.”

Probably the discrimination was intended, like the exemption from
blockade, as a favor to New England, and must have been meant to be
more or less secret, since publication was likely to counteract its
effect; but in time of war the British government was at liberty to
seek supplies where it chose.

Madison thought differently. He sent to Congress, February 24, 1813, a
special Message expressing indignation at the conduct of England.

    “The policy now proclaimed to the world,” he charged, “introduces
    into her modes of warfare a system equally distinguished
    by the deformity of its features and the depravity of its
    character,--having for its object to dissolve the ties of
    allegiance and the sentiments of loyalty in the adversary nation,
    and to seduce and separate its component parts the one from the
    other. The general tendency of these demoralizing and disorganizing
    contrivances will be reprobated by the civilized world.”

Although many persons shared Madison’s view of war as a compulsory
process of international law, Federalists and Republicans were at a
loss to understand his view of “deformity” and “depravity” in modes
of warfare. The whole truth in regard to West and East Florida was
not known, but so much was notorious, even in 1811, as to warrant the
British minister in protesting “against an attempt so contrary to every
principle of public justice, faith, and national honor.”[20] What the
United States could do in Florida in time of peace, England could
surely do in Massachusetts in time of war; but if England’s conduct
was in reality deformed and depraved, as charged, the celebrated
proclamation of William Hull to the Canadians in 1812, inviting them
to quit their allegiance and to “choose wisely” the side of the United
States, should have been previously disavowed by the United States
government. No little ridicule was caused by the contrast between
Madison’s attitude toward Canada and his denunciation of England’s
attitude toward Massachusetts.

Taken together, the news from Europe in the last days of winter gave
ground for deep reflection. With the overthrow of Napoleon’s authority
and the close alliance between Great Britain and Russia, the last
chance of forcing concessions from England vanished. A long war,
with no prospect of success, lay before the United States. New York
harbor, the Delaware River, and Chesapeake Bay were already so nearly
closed to commerce as to foreshadow complete stoppage; and if Boston
was still open, its privileges must soon cease unless Great Britain
deliberately intended to regard New England as neutral. All this,
though alarming enough, might be met with courage; but against the
pronounced disaffection of Massachusetts and Connecticut no defence
existed; and whenever those States should pass from stolid inertia into
the stage of active resistance to the war, the situation would become
hopeless. Under such circumstances England would have a strong motive
for refusing peace on any terms.

The shadow of these fears lay over the Inaugural Address which the
President pronounced March 4, 1813, after taking for a second time the
oath of office at the Capitol. His speech contained only the defence
of a war that needed no defence, and complaints against England which
were drowned in the tumult of war, the loudest complaint that man could
make. Every tone showed that Madison felt doubtful of support, and that
in proving the war to be just he betrayed consciousness that it was not
energetic. Perhaps the most characteristic sentence in the Address was
that in which he congratulated the country “with a proud satisfaction,”
that in carrying on the war, “no principle of justice or honor, no
usage of civilized nations, no precept of courtesy or humanity, have
been infringed; the war has been waged on our part with scrupulous
regard to all these relations, and in a spirit of liberality which was
never surpassed.” Madison’s phrases were the more remarkable because
at about the same time the British government announced its intention
of making America feel what war meant. The courtesy and humanity of
the war were to be all on the American side; while not a word in the
Inaugural Address gave the pledge which could win victories,--the
assurance that the President himself had energy and meant to exert it.

Besides the alarming difficulties which rose partly from failure of
military calculations at home and abroad, but chiefly from want of
national experience in the business of war, other annoyances surrounded
the President, and could not fail to make him wish for peace. Armstrong
had not been six weeks in the War Department before he set the
members of Administration at odds. The factious days of Robert Smith
returned, and the President found the task of maintaining discipline
as great in the Cabinet as it was in the army. One of the strongest
characters called into prominence by the war, who was himself destined
to have charge of the War Department, spoke of Armstrong, four months
later, in language hinting impatient consciousness of something too
complicated to describe. “And Armstrong!--he was the devil from the
beginning, is now, and ever will be.”[21] Only by studying what
Armstrong did, could the causes be understood of the passion which he
excited in every man he crossed.

Monroe was the first to resent Armstrong’s proceedings. Monroe’s
character, the opposite of Armstrong’s, was transparent; no one could
mistake his motives, except by supposing them to be complex; and in
his relations with Armstrong his motives were simpler than usual, for
Armstrong’s views could not be carried into effect without loss of
pride to Monroe. Already Monroe had surrendered the War Department to
him, with the expectation that if any one was to have general command
of the armies in the field, Monroe was to be the man. Down to the time
when Armstrong took control, the idea was universal that the next
campaign was to be fought by Monroe. Jan. 13, 1813, Serurier wrote to
his Government:[22]

    “There is much talk of Mr. Monroe for the command of the army, and
    he has shown a zeal in organizing his Department which tends to
    confirm me in that belief.... Mr. Monroe is not a brilliant man,
    and no one expects to find a great captain in him; but he served
    through the War of Independence with much bravery under the orders
    and by the side of Washington. He is a man of great good sense,
    of the most austere honor, the purest patriotism, and the most
    universally admitted integrity. He is loved and respected by all
    parties, and it is believed that he would soon gain the hearts
    of all his officers and soldiers. He would be given a staff as
    good as possible, and with this assistance as well as all his own
    recognized resources, it is believed that he would be perfectly
    suited to carry on the campaign about to open against the last
    continental possession of England in America.”

As acting Secretary of War, Monroe had urged Congress to increase
the number of major-generals; and after Armstrong took charge of the
Department Congress passed the Act of February 24, 1813, authorizing
the increase. February 27 the nominations were sent to the Senate. In a
letter to Jefferson, Monroe told the story:[23]--

    “On the day that the nomination of these officers was made to the
    Senate the President sent for me and stated that the Secretary of
    War had placed me in his list of major-generals, at their head, and
    wished to know whether I would accept the appointment, intimating
    that he did not think I ought to do it, nor did he wish me to leave
    my present station. I asked where I was to serve. He supposed it
    would be with the Northern army under General Dearborn. I replied
    that if I left my present office for such a command it would be
    inferred that I had a passion for military life, which I had not;
    that in such a station I could be of no service in any view to
    the general cause or to military operations, even perhaps with
    the army in which I might serve; that with a view to the public
    interest the commander ought to receive all the support which the
    government could give him, and by accepting the station proposed,
    I might take from General Dearborn without aiding the cause by
    anything that I might add. I stated, however, that the grade made
    no difficulty with me, a desire to be useful being my only object;
    and that if the command was given me even with a lower grade than
    that suggested, admitting the possibility, I would accept it. The
    difficulty related to General Dearborn, who could not well be
    removed to an inactive station.”

Monroe said, in effect, that he would have the command in chief
or nothing. Armstrong said, in effect, that he meant to be
commander-in-chief himself. The new major-generals were James
Wilkinson, Wade Hampton, William R. Davy of South Carolina, Morgan
Lewis of New York, William Henry Harrison of Indiana Territory, and
Aaron Ogden of New Jersey. The command of the Northern army was left
to Dearborn, and as the world knew Dearborn’s incompetence to conduct
a campaign, no one was surprised to learn that Armstrong meant to
conduct it as Secretary of War, at the army headquarters in the field,
performing the duties of lieutenant-general.

No sooner was Monroe satisfied that Armstrong meant to follow this
course than he took the unusual step of writing to the President a
formal remonstrance against his colleague’s supposed plan. The act
appointing six major-generals was approved February 24. The same
evening Monroe had a conversation on the subject with the President,
and the next day, February 25, submitted the substance of his remarks
in writing.[24] His argument chiefly regarded the inconvenience and
unconstitutionality of separating the War Department from the President
and of mixing military with civil functions:--

    “As soon as General Armstrong took charge of the Department at
    War, I thought I saw his plan; that is, after he had held it a few
    days. I saw distinctly that he intended to have no grade in the
    army which should be competent to a general control of military
    operations; that he meant to keep the whole in his own hands; that
    each operation should be distinct and separate, with distinct and
    separate objects, and of course to be directed by himself, not
    simply in outline but in detail. I anticipated mischief from this,
    because I knew that the movements could not be directed from this
    place. I did not then anticipate the remedy which he had in mind.”

From that moment began a feud between the two Cabinet ministers. The
cause was obvious. Armstrong had found that if a general command were
to be created, it must be given to Monroe. Probably he felt no more
confidence in Monroe’s military abilities than in those of Dearborn;
but determined that his hand should not be thus forced, Armstrong
decided to retain Dearborn, although his opinion of Dearborn, as shown
afterward,[25] made the retention an act of grave responsibility. The
decision once taken, he had no choice but to supply Dearborn’s wants
by his own presence with the army,--a course certain to challenge
attack from all Virginia. Had Armstrong been bent on destroying his
rival by means which the world could have found no chance to oppose or
criticise, he would have removed Dearborn, and would have sent Monroe
to waste his reputation in the task of conquering and holding Canada.
The retention of Dearborn was an unfortunate beginning for the new
Secretary of War.

The first effect of Armstrong’s administration was to turn Monroe into
a vindictive enemy; the second was to alienate Gallatin. Of all the
old Republican leaders, Gallatin cared least for office and most for
consistency. Under any reasonable distribution of party favors, the
Presidency should have fallen to him after Madison, not only because he
was the fittest man, the oldest, ablest, and most useful member of the
Executive government, but also because he represented Pennsylvania; and
if any State in the Union had power to select a President, it was she.
Madison would have been glad to secure for Gallatin the succession;
he had no special love or admiration for Monroe, while his regard for
Gallatin was strong and constant; but Pennsylvania cared more for
interests than for men, while Virginia cared so much for men that she
became prodigal of interests. Pennsylvania allowed Virginia, through
the agency of William B. Giles, Samuel Smith, and Michael Leib, to
thrust Gallatin aside and to open the path for a third Virginian at
the risk of the Union itself. Gallatin, too proud to complain, had no
longer an object of ambition; and from the moment ambition ceased
abstract ideas of duty alone remained to counteract the disgusts of
disappointment.

Gallatin’s abstract ideas were those of 1801,--simplicity, economy,
and purity. Financiering--the providing of money for wasteful
expenditure--was his abhorrence. “I cannot consent to act the part of
a mere financier,” he wrote to Jefferson in 1809;[26] “to become a
contriver of taxes, a dealer of loans, a seeker of resources for the
purpose of supporting useless baubles, of increasing the number of idle
and dissipated members of the community, of fattening contractors,
pursers, and agents, and of introducing in all its ramifications that
system of patronage, corruption, and rottenness which you so justly
execrate.” These words were meant to apply only to a state of peace,
but they applied equally well to a state of war from the moment war
became useless. In the beginning of Madison’s second term, no man of
intelligence denied that the war had failed; that its avowed objects
could not be gained; that every month of war increased the danger of
disunion, brought national bankruptcy nearer, and fastened habits
of extravagance and corruption on the country. From his post at the
Treasury, Gallatin could see better than most men the dangers, both
financial and political, engendered by the war, while his acquaintance
with European affairs showed him the need of rapid diplomacy.

Armstrong represented everything antagonistic to Gallatin; his methods
were arbitrary and underhand; his political training was that of
the New York school, tempered by personal contact with the court of
Napoleon; from him economy could hardly be expected. Yet perhaps
the worst feature of his administration was likely to be his use of
patronage. The number of Gallatin’s personal enemies was small, and
the use of patronage in a way that would outrage him seemed difficult;
yet within a few weeks Armstrong offended him deeply. March 18, 1813,
William Duane, of the “Aurora” newspaper, was appointed to the post
of adjutant-general. The appointment was improper, and the motives to
which it was sure to be attributed made it more scandalous than the
unfitness of the person made it harmful to the service. Gallatin’s
anger was deep: “Duane’s last appointment has disgusted me so far as to
make me desirous of not being any longer associated with those who have
appointed him.”[27]

Into this embroglio of national and personal difficulties Daschkoff,
the Russian _chargé_ at Washington, suddenly dropped the Czar’s offer
to mediate a peace. Of its prompt acceptance, under such circumstances,
no one could doubt, and on this point the Administration was united.
Daschkoff’s letter bore date March 8, and Monroe’s reply was sent
March 11. The letter of reply was a civil and somewhat flattering
compliment to Alexander;[28] the mission itself was a matter to be more
deliberately arranged.

The next decision regarded the character of the mission. The necessary
powers might have been sent, without further form, to Minister Adams
at St. Petersburg, but the President and his advisers thought with
reason that the addition of other negotiators to the mission would give
more weight and political effect to the measure.[29] They decided to
send two new envoys to join Adams; and on the same reasoning to select
prominent men. As a guaranty of their wish for peace, they decided
that one of these men should be a Federalist, and they chose James
A. Bayard of Delaware for the post. For the other, Monroe thought
of naming some Western man, to secure the confidence of the Western
country, and reconcile it to the result; but a different turn was given
to the measure by Gallatin, who asked the appointment for himself.
Gallatin’s exceptional fitness for the task outweighed all objections.
The President consented to appoint him; and Monroe, who had from the
first attached himself to Gallatin, acquiesced, although he saw the
consequences to the Cabinet and the Treasury.

A question less easy to decide was whether the new mission should
be despatched at once, or should wait until England should formally
accept the mediation. There again political motives dictated immediate
action. If England should accept, much time might be saved if the
mission were on the spot; if she did not accept, the peace-party in
America would be more effectually silenced. In either case, Russia
would be deeply pledged to support her own undertaking.

The President did not intend to lose Gallatin in the Treasury. Abundant
precedents warranted the double employment of government officers. In
1794 John Jay, then chief-justice, had been sent to negotiate with
England, and the Senate had approved the appointment. In 1799 Oliver
Ellsworth, also chief-justice, was sent to negotiate with France,
and the Senate had again approved. These were Federalist precedents,
supposed to be binding, at least on the Federalist party. If the
chief-justice, the head of an independent branch of government, could
be sent abroad as an Envoy Extraordinary in Executive employment, no
objection could exist to sending an Executive officer on a temporary
service of the same kind, unless on the score of expediency. To prevent
difficulty on that account, the Secretary of the Navy consented to
act as head of the Treasury until Gallatin’s return. Gallatin himself
inclined to look on his separation from the Treasury as final,[30] but
made his arrangements in agreement with the President’s views, which
looked to his return in the autumn.

Before he could depart he was obliged to complete the necessary
financial arrangements for the coming year, on which he was busily
engaged at the moment when Daschkoff’s letter arrived. First in
importance was the loan of sixteen million dollars. March 12,
subscription books were opened in all the principal towns, and the
public was invited to take the whole amount at seven per cent interest,
to be reduced to six per cent at the end of thirteen years. About four
million dollars were offered on these terms. Proposals in writing were
then invited by a Treasury circular, dated March 18, and after an
active negotiation between Gallatin and three or four capitalists of
New York and Philadelphia,--John Jacob Astor, Stephen Girard, David
Parish,--the remainder of the loan was provided. In all about eighteen
millions were offered. Fifteen and a half millions were taken, in the
form of six per cent stock, issued at eighty-eight dollars for every
hundred-dollar certificate, redeemable after the year 1825. About half
a million was taken at par, with an annuity of 1½ per cent for thirteen
years, in addition to the six per cent interest.

Calculated as a perpetual annuity, as English borrowers would have
viewed it, the rate of this loan was less than seven per cent; but if
the nominal capital must or should be repaid after twelve years, the
rate was about 7.50 per cent. In the end, the government paid 7.487
per cent, for the use of these sixteen millions for thirteen years.
The terms were not excessive when it was considered that New England
in effect refused to subscribe. Perhaps the loan could not have been
taken at all, had not credit and currency been already expanded to the
danger-point, as the allotment showed; for while New England, where
most of the specie was held, subscribed less than half a million, and
Boston took but seventy-five thousand, Pennsylvania, where banking had
become a frenzy, took seven million dollars. New York and Baltimore
together contributed only half a million more than was given by
Philadelphia alone. Ten million dollars were taken by Astor, Girard,
and Parish,--three foreign-born Americans, without whose aid the money
could not have been obtained on these terms, if at all. Doubtless they
were bold operators; but Americans were supposed to be not wanting in
the taste for speculation, and the question could not but rise how
these men knew the secret of distributing the load which no native
American dared carry.

The bargain was completed April 7. At that moment the Treasury was
empty, and could not meet the drafts of the other departments; but
with sixteen millions in hand, five millions of Treasury notes, and
an estimated revenue of something more than nine millions, Gallatin
collected about thirty million dollars, and April 17 wrote to the
Secretaries of War and Navy,[31] allotting to the one thirteen millions
and a quarter, to the other four and a half millions, which could not
be exceeded without the consent of Congress. This done, and every
question having been settled that could be foreseen,--the tax-bills
ready to be laid before Congress, and even the draft for a new
bank-charter prepared,--Gallatin bade farewell to the Treasury, and May
9 sailed from the Delaware River, with Bayard, for the Baltic.

Twelve years had passed since Gallatin took charge of the finances,
and his retirement was an event hardly less serious than a change of
President; for it implied that the political system he had done so
much to create and support stood so near the brink of disaster as to
call him from the chosen field of his duties into a new career, where,
if anywhere, he could save it. As Monroe felt called to the army, so
Gallatin turned naturally to diplomacy. He knew that after another
year of war the finances must be thrown into disorder like that of
the Revolutionary War, beyond the reach of financial skill; and he
believed that if any one could smooth the path of negotiation, that
person was likely to serve best the needs of the Treasury. Yet he took
grave responsibility, of which he was fully aware, in quitting his
peculiar post at a moment so serious. Success alone could save him from
universal censure; and perhaps nothing in his career better proved the
high character he bore, and the extraordinary abilities he possessed,
than the ease with which he supported responsibility for this almost
desperate venture.

The task he had set for himself was hopeless, not so much because of
the concessions he was to require, as on account of the change in
European affairs which made England indifferent for the moment to
any injury the United States could inflict. Monroe’s instructions
to the new commission, though long, consisted largely in arguments
against the legality of impressment as a part of the _jus gentium_;
although the legality of European war-measures had long ceased to be
worth discussing. As the solution of the dispute, Monroe could offer
only the new Foreign Seamen Act, which England had refused from the
first to consider, and which was certainly open to objections,--on
the American side because it offered too much; on the British side
because it offered more than could in practice be performed. To make
the utmost possible concession, Monroe proposed that no native-born
British subject, thenceforward naturalized in America, should be
allowed to serve either in the national or the private vessels of the
United States,--a provision which carried one step further the offer to
naturalize no British seamen except on condition of leaving the sea,
and which went to the verge of conceding the right of impressment.
Notwithstanding these concessions, the instructions were still positive
on the main point. Without a clear and distinct stipulation against
impressments, no treaty was to be signed; negotiations must cease, and
the negotiators must return home.[32]




CHAPTER III.


During the winter the Republican legislature of New York chose Rufus
King, the chief Federalist in the country, to succeed John Smith as
United States senator. Some Republicans charged that this election
was the price paid by De Witt Clinton for Federalist votes in the
Presidential contest; but Clinton’s friends declared it to be the price
paid by the Administration Republicans for Federalist aid in granting
a corrupt bank charter. That the choice was due to a bargain of some
kind no one denied, and possibly both stories were true. Rufus King
himself stood above suspicion, and had been considered an opponent of
the Federalist alliance with Clinton; but he was a powerful recruit
to the opposition in the Senate, which numbered thenceforward nine
votes, or precisely one fourth of the body. The annoyance to the
Administration was the greater because King’s Republican colleague,
Obadiah German, belonged to the Clintonian opposition, and voted with
the Federalists. At the same time Charles Cutts of New Hampshire was
succeeded by Jeremiah Mason, a very able and extreme Federalist.
Three more senators--Giles, Samuel Smith, and Michael Leib--could
be counted as personally hostile to the President. Jesse Franklin of
North Carolina was succeeded by David Stone, an independent, opposed
to the war. Already the opposition threatened to outweigh the votes
on which the President could depend. As though legislation had become
a matter of inferior importance, William H. Crawford of Georgia, the
only vigorous Republican leader in the Senate, resigned his seat, and
followed Gallatin to Europe. He was sent to take the place of Joel
Barlow at Paris, and hurried to his post. In this condition of party
weakness, the election of Rufus King and Jeremiah Mason to the Senate
was a disaster to the Administration; and all the more anxiously the
President feared lest the popular election in May should convert New
York altogether into a Federalist State, and give Massachusetts the
necessary strength to stop the war.

This election, on which the fate of the war was believed to turn,
took place as usual, May 1, and began by a Federalist success in
the city of New York, followed by another in Kings, Queens, and
Westchester counties. These counties before the century ended had a
voting population of near half a million, but in 1813 they cast in
State elections about eight thousand votes, and gave a majority of
eight hundred for the Federalist candidate Stephen Van Rensselaer,
the unfortunate general of the Niagara campaign. Throughout the
eastern and central counties the election was disputed; three of the
four districts into which the State was divided left the result so
close--within about three hundred votes--that only the western counties
of Cayuga, Seneca, and Genesee turned the scale. Governor Tompkins was
re-elected by the moderate majority of three thousand in a total vote
of eighty-three thousand; but the Federalists obtained a majority of
ten in the Assembly, and gained confidence with their strength. In this
election, for the first time, the issue was distinct between those who
supported and those who opposed the war. The chief towns, New York,
Hudson, and Albany, were strong in opposition; the country districts
tended to support.

In Massachusetts the Federalist governor Caleb Strong, who had made
himself peculiarly obnoxious by refusing to call out the State’s quota
of militia, received nearly fifty-seven thousand votes, while Senator
Varnum, the Republican candidate, received forty-three thousand.
Considering that the population of Massachusetts was about one fourth
smaller than that of New York, the vote of one hundred thousand persons
in the smaller State, and only eighty-three thousand in the larger,
seemed a proof of popular indifference; but in truth the vote of New
York was larger than usual, and only one thousand less than at the next
election of governor, in 1816. The difference was due to the unequal
suffrage, which in New York State elections was restricted to one
hundred pound free-holds, while in Massachusetts all citizens worth
sixty pounds were entitled to vote.

At the same time John Randolph met with defeat, for the only time in
his life. John W. Eppes, one of Jefferson’s sons-in-law, took residence
within Randolph’s district for the purpose of contesting it; and after
a struggle succeeded in winning the seat, on the war-issue, by a vote
of eleven hundred and twelve to nine hundred and forty-three.[33] This
change of membership tended, like the New York election, to show that
the people were yielding to the necessity of supporting the war. Yet
the process was alarmingly slow. In the second year of hostilities, New
Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and New Jersey
were Federal in all branches of their State governments; New York,
Delaware, and Maryland were partly Republican and partly Federalist;
of the eighteen States only ten were wholly Republican, and seven of
these were Southern. In the United States Senate the Administration
could count upon twenty-two votes, with reasonable certainty; the other
fourteen senators were more or less lukewarm or hostile. In the House,
one hundred and fourteen members supported the Administration, and
sixty-eight opposed it. As far as concerned numbers, the Administration
was strong enough in Congress; but the universal want of faith in its
capacity to conduct a war of such consequence gave the Federalists
an advantage beyond proportion to their numerical strength. The task
of opposition was easy, and its force irresistible when the ablest
and oldest Republican in office--the Secretary of the Treasury--felt
himself helpless in face of the Government’s inaptitude for war,
and wrote to his closest intimates that no one could “expect much
improvement in the manner of making it more efficient. I think that
there exists real incapacity in that respect,--an incapacity which must
necessarily exhaust our resources within a very short time.”[34]

Fortunately for the Government the same slowness of movement which
counteracted its undertakings, affected equally its internal enemies
in their hostility. The New England extremists wished and expected
to act energetically against the war. Chief-Justice Parsons quieted
Pickering in the autumn of 1812 by assuring him that the Massachusetts
House of Representatives would act at its winter session;[35] yet the
legislature met and adjourned without action. The party waited for
the spring election of 1813, which was to give them control of New
York. Their disappointment at the re-election of Governor Tompkins
was extreme, and the temptation to wait until the national government
should become bankrupt and disgraced became irresistible. Another
campaign was likely to answer their purpose. While England grew
stronger every day, America grew weaker; the struggle became more
and more unequal, the result more and more certain; and the hope of
peaceably restoring the Federalist party to power diminished the
temptation to adopt measures of force.

Thus when the Thirteenth Congress met for its extra session, May 24,
the Government felt stronger than on March 5, when the old Congress
expired. The elections were safely passed; the peace negotiations might
be considered as begun; taxation was no longer a matter of taste. The
majority liked taxation as little in 1813 as they had liked it in
1812 or in 1801; but they could no longer dispute or even discuss it.
Gallatin had gone, leaving the bills for them to pass; and Congress,
which at any other time would have rebelled, had no choice but to pass
them.

Once more Henry Clay was chosen Speaker, and setting Cheves aside he
placed John W. Eppes at the head of the Ways and Means Committee. The
House missed John Randolph, but gained John Forsyth of Georgia, and
Daniel Webster,--a new member from New Hampshire, of the same age as
Calhoun and Lowndes, but five years younger than Clay. Otherwise the
members varied little from the usual type, and showed more than their
usual faculty for discussing topics no longer worth discussion.

President Madison’s Message of May 25 challenged no angry comment. Its
allusion to the Russian mediation and the terms of peace had an accent
of self-excuse, as though he were anxious to convince England of her
true interests; its allusion to France contained the usual complaint of
delays “so unreasonably spun out;” and its reference to the war and
the finances was rather cheerful than cheering. Daring as Madison’s
policy had been, he commonly spoke in tones hardly to be called bold;
and this Message had the disadvantage, which under the circumstances
could not be called a fault, of addressing itself rather to Europe and
to enemies, than to a spirited and united nation. It had also the merit
of directing Congress strictly to necessary business; and Congress
acted on the direction.

Nothing less than necessity could at that moment of early summer have
induced the members of Congress to remain in session at all. Stout
as the majority might be in support of the war, the stoutest were
depressed and despondent. They saw themselves disappointed in every
hope and calculation on which they had counted a year before. Even
their unexpected naval glory was lost for the moment by the victory
of Broke’s frigate the “Shannon” over the “Chesapeake,” June 1, as
Congress began its work. Disaster after disaster, disgrace upon
disgrace, had come and were every moment multiplying. Suffocated with
heat, members were forced to sit day by day in the half-finished
Capitol, with a Southern village about them, their nearest neighbor a
British fleet. “Defeated and disgraced everywhere,” said one of the
stanchest war members describing the scene, “Congress was to impose the
burden of taxes on a divided people, who had been taught by leaders
of the war party to look upon a tax-gatherer as a thief, if not to
shoot him as a burglar.”[36] According to the same authority, “the
country was at the lowest point of depression, where fear is too apt to
introduce despair.” In this condition of spirits, Gallatin’s tax-bills
were reported to the House June 10,--measures such as the Republican
party had, till very lately, not conceived as within the range of its
possible legislation. They included a direct tax of three million
dollars; taxes on salt, licenses, spirits, carriages, auctions, sugar
refineries; a stamp tax, and a complete machinery for the assessment
and collection of these odious and oppressive imposts.

At the same moment, Daniel Webster began his career in Congress by
moving Resolutions which caused a long and unprofitable debate on the
conduct of France and the character of the French repealing Decree of
April 28, 1811,--a debate that could have no other result or object
than to mortify and annoy the President, who had been, like so many
other rulers, the victim of Napoleon’s audacity. Pending this debate,
June 13, the President took to his bed with a remittent fever, and for
five weeks his recovery was doubtful. Madison was still confined to
his bed, when, July 15, messengers from the lower Potomac brought news
that the British fleet, consisting of eight or ten ships-of-the-line
and frigates, was in the river, sixty miles below, making its way up
the difficult channel to Washington. A reasonable and well-grounded
fear took possession of the city. July 21, Serurier wrote to his
Government:[37]--

    “Every one is making ready to move. I know that they are secretly
    packing up at the Departments. I have as yet sent nothing away,
    in order not to show distrust of the Government’s power; but I
    have got ready my most valuable papers, and from the moment the
    President shall quit his residence, I shall follow where he goes,
    with my principal portfolios in one of my carriages.”

The British ships were approaching the city; the sound of their guns
was believed to be heard; and the Government had little means of
stopping them. Every man prepared for volunteer duty; other work was
suspended. About three thousand militia and volunteers, among whom
were all the Cabinet and many members of Congress, were mustered, and
marched to Fort Washington, which was occupied by some six hundred
regular troops, with the Secretary of War at their head; while the
Secretary of the Navy took his post on the 28-gun frigate “Adams” in
the river beneath, and the Secretary of State rode down the river shore
with a cavalry scouting party to reconnoitre the British ships.[38]
July 15 and 16 the House of Representatives ordered a Fast, and went
into secret session to consider modes of defence.

Unfortunately the motion for inquiry was made by a Federalist. The
majority, determined to make no admissions, referred the subject
to the Military Committee, which reported the next day through its
chairman, Troup of Georgia, that the preparation was “in every respect
adequate to the emergence.” When a majority could benefit only its
enemies by telling the truth, history showed that honorable men often
preferred to tell what was untrue. In this case the British ships
made their soundings, and obtained whatever knowledge they sought;
then left the river to visit other parts of the Bay, but never were
so far distant that they might not, with energy and a fair wind,
within four-and-twenty hours, have raided the defenceless village.
They had but to choose their own time and path. Not a defensible fort
or a picket-fence stood within ten miles of Washington, nor could a
sufficient garrison be summoned in time for defence. Armstrong, Jones,
and Monroe doubtless assured Congress that their means of defence were
“in every respect adequate,” but Congress took the responsibility on
its own shoulders when it accepted their assurance.

Perhaps of all the incompetence shown in the war this example most
exasperated patriotic citizens, because it was shared by every branch
of the government. For six months the Administration and its friends
had denounced Hull, Van Rensselaer, and Smyth for betraying the
government, while the Clintonians and peace Democrats had denounced
the President for imbecility; but in regard to the city of Washington
the generals were not in question, for no generals were there, while
the President was dangerously ill in bed. The Legislature and Cabinet
were chiefly responsible for whatever should happen,--the more because
their warning was ample, even if under such circumstances warning was
needed. If Jefferson assumed as a matter of course that William Hull
was to be shot and Stephen Van Rensselaer broken for their mistakes,
Republicans might properly ask what punishment should be reserved for
Armstrong, Jones, and Monroe of the Cabinet, Troup of Georgia, Sevier
of Tennessee, Wright of Maryland, and other members of the Military
Committees of the House and Senate for their neglect of the national
capital.

The debate on Webster’s Resolutions, and the report made in consequence
by Monroe, July 12, tended to throw additional discredit on the
Government. In no respect did Madison’s Administration make an
appearance less creditable than in its attitude toward Napoleon’s
Decrees, again and again solemnly asserted by it to have been repealed,
in the face of proof that the assertion was unfounded. No Federalist
rhetoric was necessary to make this mortification felt. Madison seldom
expressed himself with more bitterness of temper than in regard to the
Emperor’s conduct, and with Monroe the subject drew forth recurrent
outbursts of anger and disgust. His report tacitly admitted everything
that the Federalists charged, except that the Administration had a
secret engagement with France: it had deceived itself, but it had not
wilfully deceived the public.

While the House was busied with these unpleasant subjects, the Senate
took up the President’s recent nominations. May 29, four names were
sent to it for diplomatic appointments,--those of Albert Gallatin,
J. Q. Adams, and James A. Bayard, to negotiate treaties of peace and
commerce with Great Britain, and a treaty of commerce with Russia;
that of Jonathan Russell to be Minister Plenipotentiary to Sweden.
Rufus King immediately began opposition by moving three Resolutions
of inquiry in regard to the nature of the Russian appointments and
the authority under which the Treasury was to be administered in the
Secretary’s absence. The President replied, June 3, that the duties of
the Secretary of the Treasury were discharged by the Secretary of the
Navy under the provisions of the Act of 1792. The Senate, by a vote
of twenty to fourteen, referred the matter to a committee consisting
of Anderson of Tennessee, Rufus King, Brown of Louisiana, and Bledsoe
of Kentucky. Anderson, the chairman, wrote to the President and went
to see him on behalf of the committee, but received only the answer
that the President declined to discuss the matter with them in their
official character. The Senate then adopted a Resolution that the
functions of Secretary of the Treasury and Envoy Extraordinary were
incompatible. The Federalists obtained on this vote the support of
Giles, Leib, and Samuel Smith, German of New York, and Gilman of New
Hampshire, all of whom were disaffected Republicans; but even with
this aid they would have failed without the votes of Anderson, Bledsoe,
and the two Louisiana senators, who joined the malcontents.

Madison was then slowly recovering strength, and greatly harassed by
anxieties. He would not sacrifice Gallatin to the Senate; he hoped that
firmness would carry the point,[39] and at worst he could throw upon
senators the charge of factious opposition. This he succeeded in doing.
July 16 the Senate committee, naturally expecting Madison to suggest
some arrangement, once more sought and obtained a conference,--“when
the President was pleased to observe,” said their report,[40] “that he
was sorry that the Senate had not taken the same view of the subject
which he had done; and that he regretted that the measure had been
taken under circumstances which deprived him of the aid or advice of
the Senate. After the committee had remained a reasonable time for the
President to make any other observations if he thought proper to do so,
and observing no disposition manifested by him to enter into further
remarks, the committee retired without making any observations on the
matter of the Resolutions, or in reply to those made by the President.”

Finding itself thus defied, the Senate, without more discussion,
rejected Gallatin’s nomination by eighteen votes to seventeen, Anderson
and the two Louisiana senators still adhering to the hostile interest.
Adams and Bayard were then confirmed with little opposition.

After the passage of many years, the propriety of the decision may
still be left open to debate. As far as the Federalists were concerned,
their votes contradicted their own precedents; and if they conceded,
as their precedents required, that the question was not one of law but
of expediency, they assumed responsibility in acting as final judges.
The incompatibility asserted by them was a matter of dispute. Two
successive chief-justices had been sent as envoys abroad. No one could
doubt that the Secretary of the Treasury, or any other member of the
Executive or Judicial departments, might be appointed to negotiate
a treaty in Washington. Temporary absence from Washington had never
implied incompatibility. Everyone knew that the Secretary of War meant
in person to conduct the war on the frontier. No one could question
the President’s right to appoint acting secretaries. If convenience
alone was the point at issue, surely the President knew best the
demands of his own Executive departments, and might be trusted with the
responsibility which belonged to him. That he should fail to see, as
soon as the Senate could discover, an incompatibility that would work
only against himself, need not be taken for granted by his own party,
whatever might be the case with the opposition.

On the other hand every one might admit that as the country grew,
Secretaries of the Treasury were likely to find work in their own
Department that would effectually limit their capacity for foreign
travel; and if the Senate thought that stage to be already reached,
senators were right in insisting upon the appointment of a new
secretary in Gallatin’s place. Unfortunately for their argument,
their power did not extend so far. Gallatin remained Secretary of the
Treasury, and continued to negotiate as such, without paying attention
to the Senate or its theories.

The Senate further weakened its position in acting on the nomination
of Jonathan Russell as Minister to Sweden. The subject was referred,
June 2, to a committee consisting of Senator Goldsborough of Maryland,
together with Anderson and Rufus King. Jonathan Russell had made
himself obnoxious to the peace party by eagerness shown, while he
was in charge at London, to bring on the war. The committee not
only entered on an investigation of his doings at Paris, but also
introduced a Resolution declaring that any mission to Sweden at that
time was inexpedient, and by order of the Senate asked a conference
with the President. Monroe, angry at this conduct, declared privately
that a faction in the Senate, counting on the death not only of
President Madison but of Vice-President Gerry, and the election of
Giles as President of the Senate, were scheming to usurp the Executive
power.[41]

In order to counteract their manœuvre, and also to relieve the
President, who was then dangerously ill, Monroe took the ground that
the Executive would not confer with a co-ordinate branch of government
except through an agent, because his dignity would not allow him
to meet a committee except by a committee of his own. Monroe thus
expressed this somewhat unrepublican doctrine: “A committee of the
Senate ought to confer with a committee of the President through a
head of a Department, and not with the Chief Magistrate; for in the
latter case a committee of that House is equal to the President.”[42]
As a necessary conclusion, Monroe’s argument seemed to the Senate not
beyond dispute; but they answered it, three days afterward, still less
logically, by passing Goldsborough’s Resolution that it was inexpedient
at that time to send a Minister Plenipotentiary to Sweden.

Whatever might have been the case with Gallatin’s rejection, no one
could doubt that the vote on Russell’s appointment was factious. When
twenty-two senators, including Jeremiah Mason, Christopher Gore, Samuel
Dana, Rufus King, and William B. Giles, declared that a minister
resident in Sweden was inexpedient in the summer of 1813, they declared
what every other well-informed man knew to be an error. If any American
envoy was ever expedient, it was an envoy to Sweden in 1813; for in
Sweden at that moment all that was left of American commerce centred
after being driven from England, and the political interests of Sweden
were greatly involved with those of the United States. The error was
the less to be denied, because, only six months afterward, the Senate
admitted itself in the wrong, and approved the appointment of Russell.

These votes of the Senate made a deep impression. In time of peace and
safety the Senate might show factiousness without necessarily exciting
public anger, although at no time was the experiment quite safe; but at
a moment like July, 1813, when public opinion tended toward a serious
temper, factiousness was out of place, and was the more dangerous
because President Madison, though never showing great power as a
popular leader, had still a clear perception of the moment when to
strike an enemy. He rarely failed to destroy when he struck. The time
had come when the Republican party, with one voice, would be obliged
to insist that party discipline must be restored; and this result
was precipitated by the Senate’s conduct in regard to the diplomatic
nominations.

An illustration of the dangers into which the spirit of faction at
that excited moment led the factious, was furnished by the legislature
of Massachusetts, which met, May 26, and after listening to a long
speech from Governor Strong arraigning the national government for its
injustice to England and partiality to France, referred the subject
to committees which lost no time in reporting. One of these reports,
presented June 4 by Josiah Quincy of the State Senate, closed with a
Resolution that the Act admitting Louisiana into the Union violated the
Constitution, and that the Massachusetts senators in Congress should
use their utmost endeavors to obtain its repeal. Another report, by a
joint committee, contained a remonstrance addressed to Congress against
the war, couched in terms of strong sectional hostility to the Southern
States, and marked throughout by a covert argument for disunion. A
third report, also by Josiah Quincy, on a naval victory lately won by
Captain James Lawrence of the “Hornet,” contained a phrase even longer
remembered than Quincy’s assertion that the Government could not be
kicked into a war. The Government had in fact been kicked into the
war, but Quincy was not the better pleased. He reported that in order
not to give offence to many of the good people of the Commonwealth by
appearing to encourage the continuance of an unjust, unnecessary, and
iniquitous war, the Massachusetts senate while admiring Lawrence’s
virtues refrained from approving his acts,--

    “And to the end that all misrepresentations on this subject may be
    obviated,--

    _Resolved_, as the sense of the Senate of Massachusetts, that
    in a war like the present, waged without justifiable cause, and
    prosecuted in a manner which indicates that conquest and ambition
    are its real motives, it is not becoming a moral and religious
    people to express any approbation of military or naval exploits
    which are not immediately connected with the defence of our
    sea-coast and soil.”

Such tactics, whether in or out of Congress, were more dangerous to
their authors than any blunders of the Administration could ever be
to the party in power. If the nation should be successful in the war,
it might perhaps in good nature leave unpunished the conduct of its
malcontents; but if by their means the nation should be conquered or
forced into a humiliating peace, the people would never forget, and
never forego revenge. Mere opposition to foreign war rarely injured
public men, except while the war-fever lasted. Many distinguished
statesmen of Europe and America had been, at one time or another, in
opposition to some special war,--as was the case with Talleyrand,
Charles James Fox, Lord Grey, Jefferson, and Madison; but opposition
became unpardonable when it took a form which could have no apparent
object except national ruin. The Federalists who held the ideas
expressed by the legislature of Massachusetts could explain or defend
their future course only by the conviction that the inevitable
and long-expected “crisis” was at hand, which must end either in
disunion or in reconstruction of the Union on new ground. As “a moral
and religious people,” they separated from the common stock, and
thenceforward, if the Union lasted, could expect no pardon.

The extravagance of the Massachusetts Federalists was counterbalanced
by the same national disasters which caused it. Nothing showed that
the war was popular in any of the sea-board States; but the pressure
of circumstances, little by little, obliged lukewarm and even hostile
communities to support it. Virginia and the Southern States were drawn
into relations toward the government which they had never intended to
accept. Pennsylvania, Kentucky, and Tennessee submitted to exactions
that would at any previous stage of their history have produced a
revolution. Perhaps the strongest proof of change in popular prejudices
was furnished by the taxes. Tax-bills which were supposed to have
already overthrown one great political party,--bills which inflicted
the evils so hotly and persistently denounced by Jefferson, Gallatin,
and John Randolph in opposition, and which had been long delayed by
fear of their popular effect,--were passed by Congress quickly, by
decided votes, and with less debate than was given to the discussion
whether the President had or had not told all he knew about Bassano’s
Decree of April 28, 1811. From the time they were approved by the
President, in July and August, 1813, to the time of their repeal,
neither the President nor his party was troubled by popular discontent
on account of the passage of these Acts. They were accepted as a
necessary part of the national system, and of a war-policy.

The most curious symptom, and the one which most perplexed the
Federalists, was that this popular movement of concentration acted
in direct resistance to the movement of events. In every respect as
the Federalists looked back at the past twelve years their prophecies
had come true. The Republican party, they argued, had proved itself
incompetent, and had admitted the failure of its principles; it had
been forced to abandon them in practice, to replace the government
where the Federalists had put it, and to adopt all the Federalists’
methods; and even then the party failed. Equally imbecile in peace
and war, the democratic movement had ended in such disgrace and
helplessness as few governments had ever outlived, and such as no
nation with a near and powerful neighbor could have survived. In 1813
the evidence of downfall had become patent. The government was ruined
in credit and character; bankrupt, broken, and powerless, it continued
to exist merely because of habit, and must succumb to the first shock.
All this the Federalists had long foreseen. Fisher Ames in the press,
scores of clergymen in the pulpit, numberless politicians in Congress,
had made no other use of their leisure than to point out, step by step,
every succeeding stage in the coming decline. The catastrophe was no
longer far away, it was actually about them,--they touched and felt it
at every moment of their lives. Society held itself together merely
because it knew not what else to do.

Under circumstances following each other in necessity so stringent,
no Federalist could doubt that society would pursue the predicted
course; but it did not. Illogical and perverse, society persisted in
extending itself in lines which ran into chaos. The threatened “crisis”
had arrived, wanting no characteristic of those so long foretold;
but society made no effort to save itself. A vaster ruin and still
more terrible retribution lay beyond. The Federalists were greatly
and naturally perplexed at discovering the silent under-current which
tended to grow in strength precisely as it encountered most resistance
from events. They tried to explain the phenomenon in their own
way,--the clergy according to religious conceptions, the politicians
according to their ideas of popular character. The political theory
was the more plausible and less respectable. A. C. Hanson, the extreme
Maryland Federalist, mobbed and nearly killed in Baltimore in June,
1812, only to be elected to Congress in November, thought that the
national movement of 1813 was due to military glory. Hanson wrote to
Pickering on the subject, in the autumn:[43]--

    “The war is becoming more popular every day in this State
    [Maryland]. Our successes, and the weak manner in which it is
    conducted by the enemy make it so.... It would seem that after
    a while, unless the British can gather the sense and courage to
    strike some severe blows, the war by its own generative powers
    will create the means for its support. The vanity of a people
    cannot bear these brilliant naval victories, and there is no
    passion to which the rulers of a people can address themselves
    with greater effect. Even in my district the active opposers of
    the war are falling off every day, and unless we shortly meet with
    some reverses, the Administration will shortly find more friends
    than enemies in this State by a great deal.... The impression is
    becoming universal that the enemy cannot harm us if he would. A few
    hard blows struck in the right place would be of great service to
    the country.”

A people that could feel its vanity flattered by such glories as the
war gave in 1813 must have felt the want of flattery to an unusual
degree. The idea was extravagant. Not so much the glories as the
disgraces of the war roused public sympathy; not so much the love
of victory as the ignominy of defeat, and the grinding necessity of
supporting government at any cost of private judgment. At such a moment
any success was keenly felt, and covered every failure. The slow
conviction that come what would the nation must be preserved, brought
one man after another into support of the war, until the Federalists
found their feet in a quicksand. The “crisis” produced the opposite
effect to that which Burke’s philosophy predicted.

Congress finished its work, and August 2 adjourned. Immediately
afterward the President went to Montpelier to recover his strength in
the air of the Blue Ridge. The session had not been unsatisfactory,
for although the Senate refused to impose an embargo, wanted by the
President in order to cut off illegitimate trade with England’s
dependencies, and although the same body put its negative on the
appointments of Gallatin and Jonathan Russell, yet Congress passed the
tax-bills, authorized another loan of seven and a half millions, and
made the business of trading under a British license a penal offence.
The operations of war alone remained to burden the President’s mind.




CHAPTER IV.


The fall of Detroit and Chicago in August, 1812, threw the American
frontier back to the line of the Wabash and the Maumee, and threatened
to throw it still farther back to the Indian boundary itself. The Miami
or Maumee River was defended by Fort Wayne; the Wabash had no other
defence than the little fort or blockhouse which Harrison built during
the Tippecanoe campaign, and named after himself. Fort Harrison stood
near the later city of Terre Haute, close to the border of Illinois;
Fort Wayne stood within twenty miles of the Ohio border. The width of
Indiana lay between the two.

Had Brock been able, after the capture of Detroit, to lead his little
army into Ohio, he might have cleared not only the Maumee River, but
the whole western end of Lake Erie from American possession. Recalled
in haste to defend Niagara, Brock left only two or three companies of
troops as garrison at Detroit and Malden. The Indians could do little
without the aid of regular forces, but they tried to carry both Fort
Wayne and Fort Harrison by stratagem. The attacks were made almost
simultaneously a few days after September 1, and not without skill.
In the case of Fort Harrison the Indians were nearly successful, not
so much in fighting as in burning it. With great difficulty its young
captain, Zachary Taylor, of the Seventh Infantry, succeeded in saving
his post. Fort Wayne was held by Captain James Rhea of the First
Infantry until reinforcements arrived, September 12. Except the usual
massacres of scattered families, the Indians accomplished nothing.

Upon the State of Ohio, with its quarter of a million inhabitants, and
of Kentucky with four hundred thousand, fell the immediate burden of
defending the border between the Ohio and the Lakes. Governor William
Henry Harrison of the Indiana Territory leaving Vincennes June 19, the
day after the declaration of war, was at Cincinnati when threatening
news began to arrive from Detroit. Harrison had military knowledge and
instincts. He saw that after the capture of Mackinaw Detroit must fall,
and that Hull could save himself only by evacuating it.[44] Harrison’s
ambition, which had drawn him to Tippecanoe, drew him also to lead
the new crusade for the relief or recovery of Detroit. He went to
Kentucky at the invitation of Governor Scott, and under the patronage
of Scott and Henry Clay he took the direction of military affairs.
August 24 news reached Kentucky that Hull was shut in Detroit, and must
surrender unless immediately relieved.[45] The Governor of Kentucky at
once summoned what was then called a _caucus_, composed of himself,
his successor elect Governor Shelby, Henry Clay, Justice Todd of the
United States Supreme Court, Major-General Hopkins of the Kentucky
militia, various Congressmen, judges, and other citizens,[46] whose
whole authority was needed to warrant giving to Harrison, who was not
a citizen of Kentucky, the commission of major-general and the command
of the expedition to Detroit. By general acclamation, and on the warm
assurances of universal popular approval, the measure was taken; and
Harrison started at once for Cincinnati and Detroit to organize the
campaign. The news of Hull’s surrender met him as he left Frankfort.

By this combination of skill and accident, Harrison reached the object
of his ambition,--the conduct of war on a scale equal to his faith
in his own powers; but the torrent of Western enthusiasm swept him
forward faster than his secret judgment approved. Appointed by caucus
the general of volunteers, he could keep his position only by keeping
his popularity. Without deciding precisely where to march, or what
military object to pursue, he talked and acted on the idea that he
should recover Detroit by a _coup-de-main_.[47] He knew that the idea
was baseless as a practical plan, and futile as a military measure; but
nothing less would satisfy the enthusiasm of his Kentucky volunteers,
and the national government almost compelled him to pretend what he
did not at heart believe possible.

The confusion thus created was troublesome. First, Harrison insisted
on commanding the troops marching to relieve Fort Wayne, and obliged
the good-natured General Winchester, who outranked him, to yield the
point.[48] Then after a forced march with the Kentuckians down the
St. Mary’s River, having relieved Fort Wayne, Harrison was obliged,
September 19, to surrender the command to Winchester, who arrived
with orders from the Secretary of War to take general charge of the
northwestern army. Harrison then left Fort Wayne for Piqua. Meanwhile
the President and Eustis, learning what had been done in Kentucky,
September 17, after much debate decided to give to Harrison the
commission of brigadier-general, with the command of the northwestern
army, to consist of ten thousand men, with unlimited means and no
orders except to retake Detroit.[49] Brigadier-General Winchester,
who was already at Fort Wayne, was given the option of serving under
Harrison, or of joining the army at Niagara.

These new orders reached Harrison September 25 at Piqua. Harrison then
resumed command, and two days afterward, September 27, wrote to the
secretary, announcing his plan for the autumn campaign. Three columns
of troops, from widely distant quarters, were to move to the Maumee
Rapids,--the right column, consisting of Virginia and Pennsylvania
troops, by way of the Sandusky River; the centre column, of twelve
hundred Ohio militia, by Hull’s road; the left column, consisting of
four Kentucky regiments and the Seventeenth U. S. Infantry, was to
descend the Auglaize River to Fort Defiance on the Maumee, and thence
to fall down that river to the point of junction with the two other
columns.

Compared with Hull’s resources, Harrison’s were immense; and that he
had no serious enemy to fear was evident from his dividing the army
into three columns, which marched by lines far beyond supporting
distance of each other. At the same time he ordered Major-General
Hopkins of the Kentucky militia to march with two thousand men up the
Wabash into the Indian country, and to destroy the Indian settlements
on the Wabash and Illinois rivers. Had a British force been opposed
to the Americans, its general would have had little difficulty in
destroying some one of these four isolated columns, and driving
Harrison back to central Ohio; but only bands of Indians, not exceeding
five hundred at most, were to be feared before the army should cross
the Maumee, and little anxiety existed on account of enemies, unless
for the safety of Fort Wayne.

Harrison’s anxieties bore a different character. September 23 he wrote
to the Secretary of War: “If the fall should be very dry, I will take
Detroit before the winter sets in; but if we should have much rain, it
will be necessary to wait at the rapids until the Miami of the Lakes is
sufficiently frozen to bear the army and its baggage.”[50] The promise
was rash. However dry the season might be, the task of marching an army
with siege-artillery past Malden to Detroit, and of keeping it supplied
from a base two hundred miles distant, with the British commanding the
Lake, was one which Harrison had too much sense to attempt. Nothing but
disaster could have resulted from it, even if Detroit had been taken.
In the actual condition of that territory, no army could be maintained
beyond the Maumee River without controlling the Lake. Perhaps Harrison
was fortunate that constant rains throughout the month of October
brought the army to a halt long before it reached the Maumee. Only the
left division of five Kentucky regiments succeeded in getting to the
river, and camped in the neighborhood of old Fort Defiance, waiting for
the other columns to reach the rapids. There the Kentuckians remained,
under the command of General Winchester, without food, clothing, or
sufficient shelter, in a state of increasing discontent and threatening
mutiny, till the year closed.

Within a month after assuming command Harrison found himself helpless
either to advance or to retreat, or to remain in any fixed position.
The supplies required for ten thousand troops could not be sent forward
by any means then known. October 22 the left column, consisting of
the Kentucky regiments and some regulars, was at Defiance on the
Maumee; the central column of a thousand Ohio troops under General
Tupper was on Hull’s road, a hundred miles from the Maumee, unable to
march beyond Urbana, where its supplies were collecting; the right
column of Pennsylvanians and Virginians was still farther from the
front, slowly approaching the Sandusky River from the southeast, but
far out of reach. General Hopkins’s expedition up the Wabash ended
in failure, his troops becoming a mere mob, and at last disbanding,
leaving their general to follow them home. Harrison himself was riding
indefatigably through the mud, from one end to the other of his vast
concave line,--now at Defiance, making speeches to pacify Winchester’s
Kentuckians; then at Piqua and Urbana with the Ohioans; soon a hundred
miles away at the river Huron, east of Sandusky; next at Wooster,
Delaware, or Franklinton, afterward Columbus, in the centre of Ohio,
looking for his right wing; but always searching for a passable ridge
of dry land, on which his supplies could go forward to the Maumee
Rapids. The result of his search was given in a letter of October 22,
from Franklinton, to the Secretary of War:--

    “I am not able to fix any period for the advance of the troops to
    Detroit. It is pretty evident that it cannot be done upon proper
    principles until the frost shall become so severe as to enable us
    to use the rivers and the margin of the Lake for transportation
    of the baggage and artillery upon the ice. To get them forward
    through a swampy wilderness of near two hundred miles, in wagons
    or on packhorses which are to carry their own provisions, is
    absolutely impossible.”

The obstacle which brought Harrison’s autumn campaign to this sudden
close was the vast swamp that extended from the Sandusky River on his
right to the Auglaize River on his left, and for the moment barred the
passage of his necessary supplies as effectually as though it had been
the Andes. Hull had crossed it, cutting a road as he went, and no one
had then appreciated his effort; but he had marched with a small force
in May and June. Harrison tried to transport supplies, heavy guns,
military stores, and all the material for an army of ten thousand men
on a long campaign, as the autumn rains set in. On the extreme right,
with great effort and expense, a considerable quantity of rations was
accumulated on the Sandusky River, to be sent to the Maumee Rapids
whenever the frosts should harden the swamps. On the extreme left,
desperate efforts were made to carry supplies to Winchester’s army at
Defiance by way of the Auglaize and St. Mary’s rivers. Hull’s road was
impassable, and for that reason the column of Ohio troops and their
supplies were stopped in the neighborhood of Urbana.

Throughout the months of October and November Harrison’s army stood
still, scattered over the State of Ohio, while wagons and packhorses
wallowed in mud toward the Maumee Rapids. None arrived. Sometimes
the wagons were abandoned in the mud; sometimes the packhorses broke
down; sometimes the rivers were too low for boats; then they froze and
stopped water-transport. Universal confusion, want of oversight and
organization, added to physical difficulties, gave play to laziness,
incapacity, and dishonesty. No bills of lading were used; no accounts
were kept with the wagoners; and the teams were valued so high, on
coming into service, that the owners were willing to destroy them
for the price to be received.[51] The waste of government funds was
appalling, for nothing short of a million rations at the Maumee Rapids
could serve Harrison’s objects, and after two months of effort not a
ration had been carried within fifty miles of the spot. In Winchester’s
camp at Defiance the men were always on half rations, except when they
had none at all. During the greater part of December they had no flour,
but lived on poor beef and hickory roots. Typhus swept them away by
scores; their numbers were reduced to about one thousand. The exact
force which Harrison had in the field was matter of conjecture, for he
sent no return of any description to the adjutant-general’s office.[52]
The Government gave him _carte blanche_, and he used it.[53] Chaos and
misconduct reigned in every department, while he, floundering through
the mud along his line of two hundred miles front, sought in vain for
a road.

For the train of errors and disasters in the northwest Secretary Eustis
was chiefly responsible, and his resignation, Dec. 3, 1812, left the
campaign in this hopeless condition. From Dec. 3, 1812, until Jan. 13,
1813, Monroe acted as Secretary of War; and to him Harrison next wrote
from Delaware, December 12, a letter which not only disheartened the
Government, but was calculated to create a prejudice against the writer
in the mind of any Secretary of War who was not invincibly prejudiced
in his favor.[54]

    “If there were not some important political reason,” said
    Harrison, “urging the recovery of the Michigan Territory and
    the capture of Malden as soon as those objects can possibly be
    effected, and that to accomplish them a few weeks sooner expense
    was to be disregarded, I should not hesitate to say that if
    a small proportion of the sums which will be expended in the
    quartermaster’s department in the active prosecution of the
    campaign during the winter was devoted to obtaining the command of
    Lake Erie, the wishes of the Government, in their utmost extent,
    could be accomplished without difficulty in the months of April and
    May. Malden, Detroit, and Mackinaw would fall in rapid succession.
    On the contrary, all that I can certainly promise to accomplish
    during the winter, unless the strait should afford us a passage
    on the ice, is to recover Detroit. I must further observe that no
    military man would think of retaining Detroit, Malden being in
    possession of the enemy, unless his army was at least twice as
    strong as the disposable force of the enemy. An army advancing to
    Detroit along a line of operation passing so near the principal
    force of the enemy as to allow them access to it whenever they
    think proper, must be covered by another army more considerable
    than the disposable force of the enemy. I mention this circumstance
    to show that the attack ought not to be directed against Detroit,
    but against Malden; and that it depends upon the ice affording a
    safe passage across the strait, whether I shall be able to proceed
    in this way or not. Detroit is not tenable. Were I to take it
    without having it in my power to occupy the opposite shore, I
    should be under the necessity of hiding the army in the adjacent
    swamp to preserve it from the effects of the shot and shells which
    the enemy would throw with impunity from the opposite shore. This
    result is so obvious to every man who has the least military
    information, that it appears to me as extraordinary as any other
    part of General Hull’s conduct that he should choose to defend
    Detroit rather than attack Malden.”

Hull could have asked no better apology for his surrender. Harrison
did not know that the insubordination and refusal of the Ohio colonels
to evacuate Detroit had forced Hull to remain there; but that Detroit
was not tenable came at last to the surface as a self-evident truth of
the campaign,--which Hull had always seen, and which Harrison himself
announced almost as clearly in August as in December, but which he
ignored in the interval.

    “If it should be asked,” he continued, “why these statements were
    not made sooner,--I answer that although I was always sensible
    that there were great difficulties to be encountered in the
    accomplishment of the wishes of the President in relation to the
    recovery of Detroit and the conquest of the adjacent part of Upper
    Canada in the manner proposed, I did not make sufficient allowance
    for the imbecility and inexperience of the public agents and the
    villany of the contractors. I am still, however, very far from
    believing that the original plan is impracticable. I believe on the
    contrary that it can be effected.”

The excuse did not satisfy the Cabinet, who thought they saw that
Harrison wished to throw upon Government the responsibility for a
military failure fatal to himself. Perhaps a simpler motive guided
Harrison, who from the first never had known precisely what to do,
or had seen any clear path to success. He wrote, January 4, from
Franklinton,--

    “When I was directed to take the command in the latter end of
    September, I thought it possible by great exertions to effect the
    objects of the campaign before the setting in of winter.... The
    experience of a few days was sufficient to convince me that the
    supplies of provisions could not be procured for our autumnal
    advance; and even if this difficulty was removed, another of equal
    magnitude existed in the want of artillery. There remained then no
    alternative but to prepare for a winter campaign.”

According to this account he had seen early in October that advance was
impossible, yet he wasted millions of money and many of his best troops
in attempting it. Winter had come, and he was pledged to a winter
campaign as impracticable as the autumn campaign had proved to be.
Without the control of the Lake, any army beyond the Maumee must starve
or surrender. The government had already paid a vast price in money and
men in order to obtain this knowledge; yet Harrison proposed a winter
campaign, with full persuasion of its uselessness.

December 20 he sent orders[55] to Winchester to descend the Maumee
River from Defiance to the rapids, there to prepare sleds for an
expedition against Malden, to be made by a choice detachment when
the whole army should concentrate at the rapids. Early in January,
the ground being at last frozen, provisions in large quantities
were hurried to the Maumee River. Artillery was sent forward. The
Pennsylvania and Virginia brigades moved to the Sandusky River, making
an effective force of fifteen hundred men at that point. The whole
effective force on the frontier amounted to six thousand three hundred
infantry.[56] Harrison intended to move his headquarters forward from
the Sandusky, and to reach the Maumee Rapids January 20, to which point
he supposed General Winchester already in motion from Defiance.[57]

This was the situation January 12; and although Harrison hinted in
his reports of January 4 and 8 that his winter campaign would probably
fail,[58] he showed the intention of advancing at least as far as the
strait opposite Malden, about thirty-five miles beyond the Maumee. This
he might venture without much danger; and if he reached that point,
supposing the straits to be frozen, the enemy to show little sign of
resistance, and the weather to favor, he might attack Malden. Hull had
been expected to take Malden with twelve or fourteen hundred men, with
an open river behind him, a British fleet on his flank, fifty miles
of road to cover, and supplies for only a few days at Detroit; but
Harrison with six thousand men, the river frozen and the British fleet
frozen in it, a secure base, with a million rations close in his rear,
and no Isaac Brock in his front, still spoke with extreme doubt of his
prospects, and said that “most of the well-informed men who knew the
character of the country”[59] expected a suspension of operations for
the winter.

Aware that from a military point of view no land-campaign could, except
by accident, effect any result proportionate to its cost, Harrison had
placed himself at the head of a popular movement so strong that he
would have met the fate of Hull and Alexander Smyth, had he not made at
least a demonstration against an enemy whose face he had not yet seen.
Forced by his own pledges and the public discontent to enter on an
unmilitary campaign, he was anxious to risk as little as possible where
he could hardly expect to gain anything; and he would probably have
contented himself with his first scheme of a _coup-de-main_ against
Malden or Detroit, without attempting to hold either place, had not his
subordinate, General Winchester, rescued him from an awkward position
by a blunder that relieved Harrison of further responsibility.

Brigadier-General Winchester was a planter of Tennessee, sixty-one
years old, and formerly an officer in the Revolutionary War. Though
outranking Harrison, he had allowed himself to be set aside by what he
thought intrigue,[60] and consented to conduct the left wing of the
force under Harrison’s command. Winchester was not a favorite with
his Kentucky militia-men, who had no choice in electing him to their
command. Their term of service was to expire in February; they had
been imprisoned since September in a wilderness at Defiance,--hungry,
cold, sick, and mutinous, able to find no enemy willing to fight them,
and disgusted with idleness. No sooner was the ground frozen and the
general movement of concentration possible, than Winchester’s command
by common consent, under Harrison’s orders, broke up their camp near
Defiance and marched to the rapids, where Hull’s road crossed the
Maumee. There they arrived January 10, as Harrison expected. They
fortified themselves on the north bank, and waited for the arrival of
Harrison, who intended to join them January 20.

Winchester’s force included three regiments of Kentucky militia,
numbering nine hundred effectives,[61] and the Seventeenth United
States Infantry, numbering three hundred men, also Kentuckians.
Altogether he had under his command at the rapids about thirteen
hundred men,[62]--a force barely sufficient to hold the exposed
position it had taken on the north bank of the river. The three
Kentucky militia regiments were soon to go home. The other columns were
not yet within supporting distance. If Colonel Proctor, who commanded
at Malden, were capable of imitating Brock’s enterprise, he would
hardly throw away an opportunity, which might never recur, to strike a
blow at the Kentuckians, and by defeating them to drive Harrison’s army
behind the Sandusky River. Every military motive warned Winchester not
to divide, detach, or expose his troops without caution. He was himself
a detachment, and he had no support nearer than the Sandusky.

While the troops were busily engaged in building a store-house and
throwing up log-works in an injudicious and untenable position,[63]
two Frenchmen came into camp, begging protection for the inhabitants
of Frenchtown on the river Raisin, thirty miles in front, and within
the British lines. Thirty-three families, or about one hundred and
fifty persons, were resident at Frenchtown, and the place was held by
a few Canadian militia, supposed to consist of two companies, with
about as many Indians,--in all, some three hundred men.[64] This
force might easily be destroyed, and the loss to the British would be
serious. Winchester’s troops became eager to dash at them. A council
of war decided, January 16, without a voice in remonstrance, that the
movement should be made. The most ardent supporter of the adventure
was Col. John Allen of the Kentucky Rifle regiment; but no one offered
opposition, and Winchester agreed to the council’s opinion.[65]

The next morning, Jan. 17, 1813, Col. William Lewis, of the Fifth
Kentucky militia, started for the river Raisin, with four hundred and
fifty men.[66] A few hours afterward he was followed by Colonel Allen
with one hundred and ten men. No reports told what regiments were
taken, or where they were at any moment stationed; but Lewis and Allen
probably led twelve companies, drawn from four Kentucky regiments,--the
Seventeenth United States Infantry, recruited in Kentucky, commanded
by Col. Samuel Wells; the Kentucky Rifles, Col. John Allen; the First
Kentucky Infantry; and Colonel Lewis’s regiment, the Fifth Kentucky
Infantry,--in all, six hundred and sixty men, representing the flower
of Kentucky.

They marched on the ice, along the shore of Maumee Bay and Lake
Erie, until nightfall, when they camped, and at two o’clock the next
afternoon, January 18, reached without meeting resistance the houses
on the south bank of the river Raisin. The north bank was occupied,
according to British authority,[67] by fifty Canadian militia and two
hundred Indians. The British force opened fire with a three-pound
howitzer. The action began at three o’clock and lasted till dark, when
the enemy after an obstinate resistance was driven about two miles
into the woods with inconsiderable loss.[68] The action was sharp, and
cost the Americans not less than twelve killed and fifty-five wounded,
reducing their effective number to six hundred.

Colonel Lewis had orders to take possession of Frenchtown, and hold
it. He reported his success to General Winchester at the rapids, and
remained at Frenchtown waiting further orders. Winchester became
then aware that the situation was hazardous. Six hundred men were
with him in a half-fortified camp on the north bank of the Maumee;
six hundred more were thirty miles in advance, at the Raisin River;
while fully two thousand--or, according to Harrison’s estimate, four
thousand[69]--enemies held two fortresses only eighteen miles beyond
the Raisin. The Kentuckians at the Maumee, equally aware of their
comrades’ peril, insisted on going to their aid. Winchester promptly
started on the evening of January 19, and arrived at Frenchtown the
next morning. Colonel Wells’s Seventeenth United States Infantry,
two hundred and fifty men, followed, arriving at Frenchtown in the
evening.[70]

Winchester, before leaving the Maumee Rapids, sent a despatch to
Harrison with a report of the battle of the 18th, which met Harrison
on the road hurrying to the Maumee Rapids. The next morning, January
20, Harrison arrived at the camp on the Maumee, and found there about
three hundred Kentucky troops,[71] the remainder being all with
Winchester at the river Raisin. Probably Harrison, whose own caution
was great, felt the peril of Winchester’s situation,[72] but he sent
his inspector-general, Captain Hart, forward with orders to Winchester
“to hold the ground we had got at any rate,”[73] while he wrote to the
Secretary of War:--

    “Upon my way to this place [Maumee Rapids] last evening, I received
    the letter from the General [Winchester] of which the enclosed is
    a copy, informing me of the complete success of the enterprise in
    the defeat of the enemy and taking the stores they had collected.
    The detachment under Colonel Lewis remain at the river Raisin,
    and General Winchester very properly marched yesterday with two
    hundred and fifty men to reinforce him and take the command....
    It is absolutely necessary to maintain the position at the river
    Raisin, and I am assembling the troops as fast as possible for the
    purpose.”[74]

Harrison added that his only fear was lest Winchester should be
overpowered. He waited at the Maumee Rapids two days, until at noon,
January 22, a messenger arrived with disastrous tidings from the front.

Winchester afterward told the story of his own proceedings with so much
candor that his narrative became a necessary part of any explanation of
his disaster:--

    “Suspecting that Proctor would make an attempt to avenge this
    stroke, and knowing that our wounded men could not be removed, I
    hastened to reinforce Colonel Lewis with Wells’s regiment, two
    hundred and fifty men; and set out myself to join him, and arrived
    on the morning of the 20th. The town, lying on the north side
    of the river, was picketed on three sides, the longest facing
    the north, and making the front. Within these pickets Colonel
    Lewis’s corps was found. Not thinking the position eligible, nor
    the pickets a sufficient defence against artillery, I would have
    retreated but for the wounded, of whom there were fifty-five;
    but having no sufficient means for transporting these, and being
    equally destitute of those necessary for fortifying strongly, I
    issued an order for putting the place in the best condition for
    defence that might be practicable, intending to construct some new
    works as soon as the means for getting out timber might be had. On
    the evening of the 20th Wells arrived, and was directed to encamp
    on the right, in an open field, immediately without the picketing.
    On the 21st a patrol as far as Brownstown [opposite Malden] was
    sent out, and returned without seeing anything of an enemy. On the
    same day a man from Malden came in who reported that the enemy were
    preparing to attack us; but knowing nothing of the kind or extent
    of the preparation made or making, what he brought was thought to
    be only conjecture and such as led to a belief that it would be
    some days before Proctor would be ready to do anything.... Neither
    night-patrol nor night-pickets were ordered by me, from a belief
    that both were matters of routine and in constant use.... Not to
    discommode the wounded men, ... I took quarters for myself and
    suite in a house on the southern bank, directly fronting the troops
    and only separated from them by the river, then firmly frozen, and
    but between eighty and a hundred yards wide.”

The only educated officer under Harrison’s command was Major E. D.
Wood of the Engineers, one of the early graduates of West Point, and
an officer of high promise. He was not with Winchester’s division, but
with the right wing on the Sandusky, and arrived at the Maumee Rapids
some ten days afterward, where he built Fort Meigs, in February. During
the campaign he kept a diary, and his criticisms of Winchester, Lewis,
Allen, and their command were quoted with approval by the Kentucky
historian,[75] as well as by Harrison’s biographer:[76]--

    “The troops were permitted to select, each for himself, such
    quarters on the west side of the river as might please him best,
    whilst the general ... took his quarters on the east side,--not the
    least regard being paid to defence, order, regularity, or system,
    in the posting of the different corps.... With only one third
    or one fourth of the force destined for that service; destitute
    of artillery, of engineers, of men who had ever seen or heard
    the least of an enemy; and with but a very inadequate supply of
    ammunition,--how he ever could have entertained the most distant
    hope of success, or what right he had to presume to claim it, is
    to me one of the strangest things in the world.... Winchester was
    destitute of every means of supporting his corps long at the river
    Raisin; was in the very jaws of the enemy, and beyond the reach of
    succor. He who fights with such flimsy pretensions to victory will
    always be beaten, and eternally ought to be.”

Defeat under such conditions was disgraceful enough; but defeat by
Colonel Proctor was one of the worst misfortunes that happened to
an American general. The Prince Regent took occasion, at the close
of the war, to express his official opinion of this officer, then
Major-General Proctor, in language of unusual severity.[77] Yet
Proctor’s first movements at the Raisin River showed no apparent sign
of his being “so extremely wanting in professional knowledge, and
deficient in those active, energetic qualities which must be required
of every officer,” as his later career, in the Prince Regent’s opinion,
proved him to be. He had opposed Brock’s bold movement on Detroit;
but he did not hesitate to make a somewhat similar movement himself.
January 21 he marched with artillery across the river on the ice, to
Brownstown opposite Malden, in full view of any American patrol in the
neighborhood. His force consisted of six hundred whites, all told,[78]
besides either four hundred and fifty, six hundred or eight hundred
Indians, under the chief Round Head, Tecumthe being absent collecting
reinforcements on the Wabash.[79] This large body of more than a
thousand men, without an attempt at concealment, crossed to Brownstown
and marched twelve miles, January 21, camping at night within five
miles of Frenchtown.[80] If the British historian James was correct,
they numbered eleven hundred and eighty men, of whom five hundred and
thirty were white, and the rest Indians;[81] but the official return
reported the whites, including every person present, at five hundred
and ninety-seven men. Two hours before dawn, January 22, they again
advanced, and before daybreak approached within musket-shot of the
picket-fence, and half-formed their line, before an alarm was given.

Had Proctor dashed at once on the defenceless Seventeenth regiment and
the fence that covered the militia, he would probably have captured the
whole without loss; but he preferred to depend on his three-pound guns,
which gave the Kentuckians opportunity to use their rifles. In such
fighting the Americans had much the advantage, especially as British
regulars were opposite them. Within an hour the Forty-first regiment
lost fifteen killed and ninety-eight wounded, and of the entire body
of six hundred British troops not less than twenty-four were killed
and one hundred and sixty-one wounded.[82] Their three-pound guns were
abandoned, so murderous were the Kentucky rifles.[83] Had all the
American troops been under cover, the battle would have been theirs;
but Wells’s Seventeenth regiment was a hundred yards away, on open
ground outside the picket-fence on the right, where it was flanked by
the Canadian militia and Indians and driven back toward the river,
until Allen’s Rifle regiment went out to help it. Gradually forced
toward the rear, across the river, this part of the line was at last
struck with a panic and fled, carrying with it Winchester himself,
Colonel Allen, and Colonel Lewis; while six hundred Indians were in hot
pursuit, or already in advance of them.

In the deep snow escape was impossible. Nearly a hundred Kentuckians
fell almost side by side, and were scalped. Among these was Colonel
Allen. General Winchester and Colonel Lewis were so fortunate as to
fall into the hands of the chief Round Head, who first stripped them
and then took them to Proctor, who had for the time withdrawn his
forces and ceased firing. By Proctor’s advice, General Winchester sent
an order to the men within the picket-fence to surrender.

By eight o’clock all resistance had ceased except from three hundred
and eighty-four Kentuckians who remained within the picket-fence,
under the command of Major Madison of the Rifle regiment. Surrounded
by a thousand enemies, they had no chance of escape. Their ammunition
was nearly exhausted; retreat was impossible; they could choose only
between surrender and massacre, and they surrendered.[84] The British
officers looked at them with curiosity, as they came within the British
line.

    “Their appearance,” said Major Richardson,[85] “was miserable
    to the last degree. They had the air of men to whom cleanliness
    was a virtue unknown, and their squalid bodies were covered by
    habiliments that had evidently undergone every change of season,
    and were arrived at the last stage of repair.... It was the depth
    of winter; but scarcely an individual was in possession of a
    great coat or cloak, and few of them wore garments of wool of any
    description. They still retained their summer dress, consisting of
    cotton stuff of various colors shaped into frocks, and descending
    to the knee. Their trowsers were of the same material. They were
    covered with slouched hats, worn bare by constant use, beneath
    which their long hair fell matted and uncombed over their cheeks;
    and these, together with the dirty blankets wrapped round their
    loins to protect them against the inclemency of the season, and
    fastened by broad leathern belts, into which were thrust axes
    and knives of an enormous length, gave them an air of wildness
    and savageness which in Italy would have caused them to pass for
    brigands of the Apennines. The only distinction between the garb of
    the officer and that of the soldier was that the one, in addition
    to his sword, carried a short rifle instead of a long one, while
    a dagger, often curiously worked and of some value, supplied the
    place of the knife.”

This description gave a lifelike idea of what Harrison justly thought
the best material in the world for soldiery, had it been properly
handled. Men who for four months had suffered every hardship, and
were still unclothed, unfed, uncared for, and sacrificed to military
incompetence, but hardened to cold, fatigue, and danger, had no reason
to be ashamed of their misfortunes or of their squalor. Fortunately
about five hundred were saved as prisoners, and thirty or forty
escaped to the rapids; the rest, four hundred in number, were killed in
battle, or massacred afterward.

Had Proctor acted with energy, he might have advanced to the rapids,
and there have captured Harrison with his remaining force of nine
hundred men, his artillery train and stores. Even with the utmost
celerity Harrison could hardly have escaped, if an active pursuit
had been made by Indians through the swamp which he had with extreme
difficulty crossed two days before,[86] and in the heavy rain which
followed the battle;[87] but Proctor had no wish for fighting. So far
from thinking of attack, he thought only of escaping it, and hurried
back to Malden at noon the same day, leaving the wounded prisoners
behind without a guard. Nothing excused such conduct, for Proctor
knew the fate to which he was exposing his prisoners. That night
the Indians, drunk with whiskey and mad with their grievances and
losses, returned to Frenchtown and massacred the wounded. About thirty
perished, some apparently burned. Fortunately for the United States the
glamour of Proctor’s victory hid his true character, and he was made a
major-general,--the most favorable event of the war for the American
armies he was to meet, and one which cost Great Britain even more in
pride than in power.




CHAPTER V.


If Proctor was afraid of Harrison, with more military reason Harrison
was afraid of Proctor; and while the British colonel, deserting his
wounded prisoners, hurried from the field of battle, and felt himself
in danger until the next day he was again entrenched at Malden, at
the same moment Harrison, burning the post at the Maumee Rapids and
destroying such stores as were collected there, hastened back to the
Portage or Carrying River some fifteen miles in the rear. Within
thirty-six hours after the battle, the two enemies were sixty miles
apart. At the Portage River Harrison remained a week, until he had
collected a force of two thousand men. With these he returned to the
rapids February 1, and began to construct a regularly fortified camp on
the south bank of the river. Fort Meigs, as it was called, did credit
to the skill of Major Wood, the engineer officer who constructed it;
but such a fortress seemed rather intended for defence than for the
conquest of Canada.

In fact, Harrison had succeeded only in making the most considerable
failure that had thus far marked the progress of the war; but while
the public was still assuming treason and cowardice in William Hull,
who had been sent with fifteen hundred men to hold Detroit and conquer
Canada, and had been left unsupported to face destruction,--the same
public admitted the excuses of Harrison, who with ten thousand men,
unlimited means, and active support at Niagara, after four months of
effort, failed even to pass the Maumee River except with a detachment
so badly managed that only thirty-three men in a thousand escaped. This
was the crowning misfortune which wrung from Gallatin the complaint
that a “real incapacity” for war existed in the government itself,
and must inevitably exhaust its resources without good result; but
although it drove Gallatin to Europe, it left Harrison on the Maumee.
Harrison would not take on himself the disgrace of admitting his
inability to recapture Detroit, and the President would not, without
his express admission, order him to desist. As Armstrong afterward
explained:[88] “The Cabinet, not inexpert at deciphering military
diplomacy, and peculiarly shy of incurring any responsibility it could
avoid, determined, with perhaps less of patriotism than of prudence,
to leave the question of continuing the winter campaign exclusively
with the General.” The General, not inclined to sink into obscurity
or to admit failure, set himself to a third campaign as hopeless as
either of its predecessors. Ordering all the troops in his rear to
join him, making a body of four thousand men, he fixed February 11 as
the day for his advance on Malden, not expecting to reduce that place,
but merely to raid it.[89] When the day arrived, the roads had again
become impassable, the ice was no longer safe; and Harrison, “with much
reluctance and mortification,”[90] was reduced to write from the Maumee
Rapids to the Secretary of War that the campaign must cease.

Thus the Western movement, likened by Henry Clay to a tenth-century
crusade, ended in failure. The Government would have been in a better
position had it never sent a man to the Maumee, but merely built a few
sloops at Cleveland. The entire result of six months’ immense effort
was confined to raids into the Indian country; and even these were
costly beyond proportion to their results. When the militia of Kentucky
and Ohio, which had been mustered in August for six months’ service,
returned to their homes in February, 1813, not only had they failed to
reoccupy a foot of the ground abandoned by Hull, but they left Harrison
almost alone at Fort Meigs, trembling lest the enemy should descend
on his rear and destroy his supplies, or force him back to protect
them.[91] He had accumulated artillery, ammunition, and stores at the
Maumee Rapids, in a fortress which itself required a garrison of two
thousand men and from which he could neither fall back, as he thought
the wiser course,[92] nor remain with safety exposed to an active
enemy. He called for more militia from Kentucky and Ohio, but the
people no longer felt enthusiasm for war.

    “I am sorry to mention,” reported Harrison, March 17,[93] “the
    dismay and disinclination to the service which appear to prevail in
    the Western country; numbers must give that confidence which ought
    to be produced by conscious valor and intrepidity, which never
    existed in any army in a superior degree than amongst the greater
    part of the militia who were with me through the winter. The new
    drafts from this State [Ohio] are entirely of another character,
    and are not to be depended on.”

In short, Harrison, who had in 1812 commanded ten thousand militia,
seemed to think double the number necessary for 1813, besides regular
troops and a fleet.

President Madison and two successive Secretaries of War had allowed
themselves, for fear of displeasing Kentucky, to give Harrison _carte
blanche_,[94] which Harrison had used without other limit than that
of the entire resources of the West. The time at last came when
such management must be stopped, and Secretary Armstrong, naturally
impatient under the load of Eustis’s and Monroe’s failures, quickly
decided to stop it. Harrison’s letter of February 11, announcing his
failure, reached the Department March 1. March 5 the secretary wrote
to Harrison ordering him to maintain a threatening attitude, but
altering the mode of warfare. Henceforward the army was to be made
subordinate,--the navy was to take the lead; and until the middle of
May, when the fleet on Lake Erie should be constructed, Harrison was to
maintain a strict defensive, and to protect the line of the Maumee with
six regular regiments, only three of which had been yet partly raised.

Meanwhile, Harrison had but a few hundred regulars and some
Pennsylvania and Virginia militia,--perhaps five hundred men in
all,--to hold Fort Meigs, and mere squads of militia to guard eight
other posts which had cost the government some millions of dollars.
These five hundred troops, whose service was mostly near its end,
he left at Fort Meigs, and in the middle of March he set out for
Chillicothe and Cincinnati. Greatly annoyed at the summary manner in
which Armstrong had put an end to his campaigning, he protested only
against the inadequacy of his force for the defence required of it,
and insisted on a temporary reinforcement of militia to garrison the
fortress that had cost him so much effort to construct at the Maumee
Rapids.

Then the value of General Proctor to his enemy became immense. Between
January 22, when he attacked Winchester, and the end of April, when
he moved on Fort Meigs, Proctor molested in no way the weak and
isolated American garrisons. With hundreds of scouts and backwoodsmen
at his command, he had not the energy or the knowledge to profit by
his opponents’ exposed and defenceless condition. He allowed Major
Wood to make Fort Meigs capable of standing a siege; he let Harrison,
unmolested, pass a month away from his command; he looked on while the
Virginia militia marched home, leaving only a handful of sickly men,
under a major of artillery, to defend the unfinished fort; he made no
attempt to waylay Harrison, who returned with reinforcements by way of
the Auglaize River; and not until Harrison had enjoyed all the time
necessary to prepare for attack, did Proctor disturb him.

Harrison, expecting an assault, hurried back from Cincinnati to Fort
Meigs with some three hundred men, leaving a brigade of Kentucky
militia to follow him. April 12 he reached the fort, but not till
April 28 did Proctor appear at the mouth of the Maumee, with about
five hundred regulars and nearly as many militia,--nine hundred and
eighty-three whites, all told, and twelve hundred Indians under
Tecumthe and other chiefs.[95] Besides this large force, he brought
two twenty-four pound guns with other artillery from Detroit, and
two gunboats supported the land-battery. While the guns were placed
in position on the north bank of the river, the Indians crossed and
surrounded the fort on the south. May 1 the batteries opened, and
during four days kept up a heavy fire. Proctor, like Harrison, moved in
the wilderness as though he were conducting a campaign on the Rhine;
he liked regular modes of warfare, and with a force almost wholly
irregular, after allowing Fort Meigs to be built, he besieged it as
though he could take it by battering its earthen ramparts. Untaught
by his losses at the river Raisin, he gave once more advantage to
the Kentucky rifle; and with every opportunity of destroying the
reinforcement which he knew to be near, he allowed himself to be
surprised by it.

The Kentucky brigade of twelve hundred men, under Brigadier-General
Green Clay, had descended the Auglaize River in boats, and arrived
at Defiance May 3, where they learned that Fort Meigs was invested.
So neglectful of his advantages was Proctor that he not only failed
to prevent General Clay from advancing, but failed to prevent
communication between the besieged fort and the relief-column, so that
Harrison was able to arrange a general attack on the investing lines,
and came near driving the British force back to Malden with the loss
of all its artillery and baggage. At about nine o’clock on the morning
of May 5, Clay’s brigade descended the rapids, and eight hundred
and sixty-six men under Colonel William Dudley,[96] landing on the
north side of the river, surprised and took possession of the British
batteries, which were entirely unsupported. Had Clay’s whole force
been on the ground, and had it been vigorously pushed forward, the
small British division which held the north bank must have abandoned
all its positions; but Dudley’s men were under no discipline, and
though ready to advance were in no hurry to retreat, even when ordered.
Three companies of the British Forty-first, and some of the Canadian
militia soon gathered together; and although these could hardly have
been half the number of Dudley’s force,[97] yet with Tecumthe and a
body of Indians they attacked the batteries, drove the Kentuckians out,
dispersed them, and either captured or massacred the whole body, under
the eyes of Harrison and Fort Meigs.

This affair, though little less fatal to the Americans than that of the
river Raisin, was much less dearly bought by the British. Five hundred
prisoners fell into Proctor’s hands; two or three hundred more of the
Kentucky brigade, including “the weak and obstinate but brave”[98]
Dudley himself, must have been either killed in battle or massacred
after surrender;[99] only one hundred and seventy escaped; the boats
with the baggage were captured; while the whole British loss on the
north side of the river hardly exceeded fifty killed and wounded. A
bitter feeling against Proctor was caused by the massacre of some
forty American prisoners while under a British guard, and also, as was
alleged, under the eyes of General Proctor, who did not interpose,
although a soldier of the Forty-first was murdered in trying to
protect them. Probably all the prisoners would have been massacred had
Tecumthe not ridden up at full speed, tomahawk in hand, and threatened
to kill the first Indian who defied his authority.[100]

On the south side Harrison had better fortune, and Colonel John Miller
of the Nineteenth U. S. Infantry by a sortie gallantly captured a
battery, with some forty prisoners; but neither on the north nor on the
south did the fighting of May 5 decide any immediate military result.
Besides losing on the north bank half the reinforcement brought by
General Green Clay, Harrison had lost in the siege and in the sorties
on the south bank nearly three hundred men in killed and wounded.[101]
If the numbers loosely reported in the American accounts were correct,
the siege cost Harrison one thousand men, or fully half his entire
force, including his reinforcements. After the fighting of May 5, he
withdrew once more into the fort; the British batteries reopened fire,
and the siege went on. No further attempt was made to trouble the enemy
in open field. Harrison felt himself too weak for further ventures; yet
never had his chance of a great success been so fair.

Proctor’s siege of Fort Meigs was already a failure. Not only had the
fort proved stronger than he expected, but the weather was bad; his
troops were without shelter; dysentery and loss in battle rapidly
weakened them; half his militia went home, and, what was fatal to
further action, his Indians could not be held together. Within three
days after the battle of May 5, the twelve hundred Indians collected
by Tecumthe’s influence and exertions in the northwest territory
dispersed, leaving only Tecumthe himself and a score of other warriors
in the British camp.[102] Proctor had no choice but to retire as
rapidly as possible, and May 9 embarked his artillery and left his
encampment without interference from Harrison, who looked on as a
spectator while the movement was effected.

From that time until the middle of July Proctor remained quiet.
Harrison moved his headquarters to Upper Sandusky and to Cleveland, and
began to prepare for advance under cover of a naval force; but he was
not allowed to rest, even though Proctor might have preferred repose.
Proctor’s position was difficult. Told by Sir George Prevost[103]
that he must capture what supplies he needed from the Americans, and
must seek them at Erie and Cleveland, since Lower Canada could spare
neither food nor transport, he was compelled to look for support to the
American magazines. He was issuing ten thousand rations a day to the
Indian families at Malden, and his resources were near an end.[104]
Leaving Malden with either three hundred and ninety-one regulars,
or about five hundred regulars and militia, and by one British
account nearly a thousand Indians, by another between three and four
thousand,[105] Proctor returned by water to the Maumee Rapids July
20, and tried to draw the garrison of Fort Meigs into an ambush. The
attempt failed. General Green Clay, who was in command, had learned
caution, and imposed it on his troops. Proctor then found that his
Indians were leaving him and returning to Detroit and Amherstburg. To
occupy them, Proctor took again to his boats and coasted the Lake shore
as far as the Sandusky River, while the Indians who chose to accompany
him made their way by land. August 1 the expedition effected a landing
at the mouth of the Sandusky, and scattered panic into the heart of
Ohio.

In truth, nothing could be more alarming than this movement, which
threatened Harrison in all directions,--from Fort Meigs, on the Maumee,
to Erie, or Presqu’isle, where Perry’s fleet was building. On Sandusky
River Harrison had collected his chief magazines. All the supplies
for his army were lying at Upper Sandusky, some thirty miles above
the British landing-place, and he had only eight hundred raw recruits
to defend their unfortified position.[106] Nothing but an untenable
stockade, called Fort Stephenson, on the Sandusky River, where the
town of Fremont afterward grew, offered an obstacle to the enemy in
ascending; and Tecumthe with two thousand Indians was said to be
moving from Fort Meigs by the direct road straight for the magazines,
thus flanking Fort Stephenson and every intermediate position on the
Sandusky.

In just panic for the safety of his magazines, the only result of a
year’s campaigning, Harrison’s first thought was to evacuate Fort
Stephenson in order to protect Upper Sandusky. The flank-attack from
two thousand Indians, who never showed themselves, impelled him to
retire before Proctor, and to leave the river open. July 29, after a
council of war, he sent down a hasty order to young Major Croghan who
commanded Fort Stephenson, directing him immediately to burn the fort
and retreat up the river or along the Lake shore, as he best could,
with the utmost haste.[107] Croghan, a Kentuckian, and an officer of
the Seventeenth U. S. regiment, refused to obey. “We have determined
to maintain this place, and by Heaven, we will,” he wrote back.[108]
Harrison sent Colonel Wells, of the same regiment, to relieve him; but
Croghan went to headquarters, and by somewhat lame excuses carried his
point, and resumed his command the next day. Harrison gave him only
conditional orders to abandon the fort,--orders which Croghan clearly
could not regard, and which Harrison seemed to feel no confidence in
his wishing to follow.[109] In the face of British troops with cannon
he was to retreat; but “you must be aware that the attempt to retreat
in the face of an Indian force would be vain.” Proctor’s main force was
believed to be Indian.

Neither evacuating nor defending Fort Stephenson, Harrison remained
at Seneca, ten miles behind it, watching for Tecumthe and the
flank attack, and arranging a plan of battle for his eight hundred
men by which he could repel the Indians with dragoons in the open
prairie.[110] Croghan remained at Fort Stephenson with one hundred and
sixty men, making every preparation to meet an attack. August 1 the
woods were already filled with Indians, and retreat was impossible,
when the British boats appeared on the river, and Proctor sent to
demand surrender of the fort. Immediately on Croghan’s refusal, the
British howitzers opened fire and continued until it became clear that
they were too light to destroy the stockade.

If experience had been of service to Proctor, he should have learned to
avoid direct attack on Americans in fortified places; but his position
was difficult, and he was as much afraid of Harrison as Harrison was
afraid of him. Fearing to leave Croghan’s little fort in the rear,
and to seek Harrison himself, ten miles above, on the road to Upper
Sandusky; fearing delay, which would discontent his Indian allies;
fearing to go on to Cleveland or Erie without crippling Harrison; still
more afraid to retire to Malden without striking a blow,--Proctor again
sacrificed the Forty-first regiment which had suffered at the river
Raisin and had been surprised at Fort Meigs. On the afternoon of August
2 the Forty-first regiment and the militia, in three columns of about
one hundred and twenty men each,[111] with the utmost gallantry marched
to the pickets of Fort Stephenson, and were shot down. After two hours’
effort, and losing all its officers, the assaulting column retired,
leaving twenty-six dead, forty-one wounded, and about thirty missing,
or more than one fifth of their force. The same night the troops
re-embarked and returned to Malden.

Proctor’s report[112] of this affair was filled with complaints of
the Indians, who could not be left idle and who would not fight. At
Sandusky, he said, “we could not muster more hundreds of Indians than I
might reasonably have expected thousands.”

    “I could not, therefore, with my very small force remain more than
    two days, from the probability of being cut off, and of being
    deserted by the few Indians who had not already done so.... On the
    morning of the 2d inst. the gentlemen of the Indian department who
    have the direction of it, declared formally their decided opinion
    that unless the fort was stormed we should never be able to bring
    an Indian warrior into the field with us, and that they proposed
    and were ready to storm one face of the fort if we would attempt
    another. I have also to observe that in this instance my judgment
    had not that weight with the troops I hope I might reasonably
    have expected.... The troops, after the artillery had been used
    for some hours, attacked two faces, and impossibilities being
    attempted, failed. The fort, from which the severest fire I ever
    saw was maintained during the attack, was well defended. The troops
    displayed the greatest bravery, the much greater part of whom
    reached the fort and made every effort to enter; but the Indians
    who had proposed the assault, and, had it not been assented to,
    would have ever stigmatized the British character, scarcely came
    into fire before they ran out of its reach. A more than adequate
    sacrifice having been made to Indian opinion, I drew off the brave
    assailants.”

Sir George Prevost seemed to doubt whether Proctor’s excuse for the
defeat lessened or increased the blame attached to it.[113] The defeat
at Sandusky ruined Proctor in the esteem of his men. On the American
side, Harrison’s conduct roused a storm of indignation. Through the
whole day, August 2, he remained at Seneca with eight hundred men,
listening to the cannonade at Fort Stephenson till late at night,
when he received an express from Croghan to say that the enemy were
embarking. The story ran, that as the distant sound of Croghan’s guns
reached the camp at Seneca, Harrison exclaimed: “The blood be on his
own head; I wash my hands of it.[114]” Whatever else might be true,
his conduct betrayed an extravagant estimate of his enemy’s strength.
The only British eye-witness who left an account of the expedition
reckoned Proctor’s force, on its departure from Malden, at about four
hundred troops, and “nearly a thousand Indians.”[115] The Indians
dispersed until those with Proctor at Fort Stephenson probably numbered
two or three hundred,[116] the rest having returned to Detroit and
Malden. Harrison reported the British force as five thousand strong, on
the authority of General Green Clay.[117]

Whether the British force was large or small, Harrison’s arrangements
to meet it did not please Secretary Armstrong. “It is worthy of
notice,” he wrote long afterward,[118] “that of these two commanders,
always the terror of each other, one [Proctor] was now actually flying
from his supposed pursuer; while the other [Harrison] waited only the
arrival of Croghan at Seneca to begin a camp-conflagration and flight
to Upper Sandusky.”

The well-won honors of the campaign fell to Major George Croghan,
with whose name the whole country resounded. Whatever were the faults
of the two generals, Major Croghan showed courage and intelligence,
not only before and during the attack, but afterward in supporting
Harrison against the outcry which for a time threatened to destroy the
General’s authority. Immediately after the siege of Fort Stephenson
every energy of the northwest turned toward a new offensive movement by
water against Malden, and in the task of organizing the force required
for that purpose, complaints of past failures were stifled. Secretary
Armstrong did not forget them, but the moment was not suited for
making a change in so important a command. Harrison organized, under
Armstrong’s orders, a force of seven thousand men to cross the Lake in
boats, under cover of a fleet.

The fleet, not the army, was to bear the brunt of reconquering the
northwest; and in nothing did Armstrong show his ability so clearly
as in the promptness with which, immediately after taking office, he
stopped Harrison’s campaign on the Maumee, while Perry was set to work
at Erie. Feb. 5, 1813, Armstrong entered on his duties. March 5 his
arrangements for the new movements were already made. Harrison did not
approve them,[119] but he obeyed. The Navy Department had already begun
operations on Lake Erie, immediately after Hull’s surrender; but though
something was accomplished in the winter, great difficulties had still
to be overcome when February 17 Commander Perry, an energetic young
officer on gunboat service at Newport, received orders from Secretary
Jones to report to Commodore Chauncey on Lake Ontario. Chauncey ordered
him to Presqu’isle, afterward called Erie, to take charge of the
vessels under construction on Lake Erie. March 27 he reached the spot,
a small village in a remote wilderness, where timber and water alone
existed for the supply of the fleets.

When Perry reached Presqu’isle the contractors and carpenters had
on the stocks two brigs, a schooner, and three gunboats. These were
to be launched in May, and to be ready for service in June. Besides
these vessels building at Erie, a number of other craft, including
the prize brig “Caledonia,” were at the Black Rock navy-yard in the
Niagara River, unable to move on account of the British fort opposite
Buffalo and the British fleet on the Lake. Perry’s task was to unite
the two squadrons, to man them, and to fight the British fleet, without
allowing his enemy to interfere at any stage of these difficult
operations.

The British squadron under Commander Finnis, an experienced officer,
had entire control of the Lake and its shores. No regular garrison
protected the harbor of Presqu’isle; not two hundred men could be
armed to defend it, nor was any military support to be had nearer than
Buffalo, eighty miles away. Proctor or Prevost were likely to risk
everything in trying to destroy the shipyard at Erie; for upon that
point, far more than on Detroit, Fort Meigs, Sandusky, or Buffalo,
their existence depended. If Perry were allowed to control the Lake,
the British must not only evacuate Detroit, but also Malden, must
abandon Tecumthe and the military advantages of three or four thousand
Indian auxiliaries, and must fall back on a difficult defensive at the
Niagara River. That they would make every effort to thwart Perry seemed
certain.

Superstition survived in nothing more obstinately than in faith in
luck; neither sailors nor soldiers ever doubted the value of this
inscrutable quality in the conduct of war. The “Chesapeake” was an
unlucky ship to the luckiest commanders, even to the British captain
who captured it. The bad luck of the “Chesapeake” was hardly steadier
than the good luck of Oliver Perry. Whatever he touched seemed to
take the direction he wanted. He began with the advantage of having
Proctor for his chief enemy; but Harrison, also a lucky man, had the
same advantage and yet suffered constant disasters. Commander Finnis
was a good seaman, yet Finnis failed repeatedly, and always by a
narrow chance, to injure Perry. Dearborn’s incompetence in 1813 was
not less than it had been in 1812; but the single success which in two
campaigns Dearborn gained on the Niagara obliged the British, May 27,
to evacuate Fort Erie opposite Buffalo, and to release Perry’s vessels
at Black Rock. June 6, at leisure, Perry superintended the removal of
the five small craft from the navy-yard at Black Rock; several hundred
soldiers, seamen, and oxen warped them up stream into the Lake. Loaded
with stores, the little squadron sailed from Buffalo June 13; the wind
was ahead; they were five days making eighty miles; but June 19 they
arrived at Presqu’isle, and as the last vessel crossed the bar, Finnis
and his squadron came in sight. Finnis alone could explain how he, a
first-rate seaman, with a strong force and a fair wind, in such narrow
seas, could have helped finding Perry’s squadron when he knew where it
must be.

From June 19 to August 1 Perry’s combined fleet lay within the bar at
Presqu’isle, while Proctor, with a sufficient fleet and a military
force superior to anything on the Lake, was planning expeditions from
Malden against every place except the one to which military necessity
and the orders of his Government bade him go. August 4, Perry took
out the armaments of his two brigs and floated both over the bar into
deep water. Had the British fleet been at hand, such a movement would
have been impossible or fatal; but the British fleet appeared just as
Perry’s vessels got into deep water, and when for the first time an
attack could not be made with a fair hope of success.

These extraordinary advantages were not gained without labor, energy,
courage, and wearing anxieties and disappointments. Of these Perry had
his full share, but no more; and his opponents were no better off than
himself. By great exertions alone could the British maintain themselves
on Lake Ontario, and to this necessity they were forced to sacrifice
Lake Erie. Sir George Prevost could spare only a new commander with
a few officers and some forty men from the lower Lake to meet the
large American reinforcements on the upper. When the commander, R. H.
Barclay, arrived at Malden in June, he found as many difficulties there
as Perry found at Presqu’isle. Barclay was a captain in the British
Royal Navy, thirty-two years old; he had lost an arm in the service,
but he was fairly matched as Perry’s antagonist, and showed the
qualities of an excellent officer.

Perry’s squadron, once on the Lake, altogether overawed the British
fleet, and Barclay’s only hope lay in completing a vessel called the
“Detroit,” then on the stocks at Amherstburg. Rough and unfinished,
she was launched, and while Perry blockaded the harbor, Barclay, early
in September, got masts and rigging into her, and armed her with guns
of every calibre, taken from the ramparts.[120] Even the two American
twenty-four pound guns, used by Proctor against Fort Meigs, were put
on board the “Detroit.” Thus equipped, she had still to be manned; but
no seamen were near the Lake. Barclay was forced to make up a crew of
soldiers from the hardworked Forty-first regiment and Canadians unused
to service. September 6 the “Detroit” was ready to sail, and Barclay
had then no choice but to fight at any risk. “So perfectly destitute of
provisions was the port that there was not a day’s flour in store, and
the crews of the squadron under my command were on half allowance of
many things; and when that was done, there was no more.”[121]

Early on the morning of September 9 Barclay’s fleet weighed and sailed
for the enemy, who was then at anchor off the island of Put-in-Bay
near the mouth of Sandusky River. The British squadron consisted of
six vessels,--the “Detroit,” a ship of four hundred and ninety tons,
carrying nineteen guns, commanded by Barclay himself; the “Queen
Charlotte” of seventeen guns, commanded by Finnis; the “Lady Prevost”
of thirteen guns; the “Hunter” of ten; the “Little Belt” carrying
three, and the “Chippeway” carrying one gun,--in all, sixty-three guns,
and probably about four hundred and fifty men. The American squadron
consisted of nine vessels,--the “Lawrence,” Perry’s own brig, nearly
as large as the “Detroit,” and carrying twenty guns; the “Niagara,”
commander Jesse D. Elliott, of the same tonnage, with the same
armament; the “Caledonia,” a three-gun brig; the schooners “Ariel,”
“Scorpion,” “Somers,” “Porcupine,” and “Tigress,” carrying ten guns;
and the sloop “Trippe,” with one gun,--in all, fifty-four guns, with
a nominal crew of five hundred and thirty-two men, and an effective
crew probably not greatly differing from the British. In other respects
Perry’s superiority was decided, as it was meant to be. The Americans
had thirty-nine thirty-two pound carronades; the British had not a gun
of that weight, and only fifteen twenty-four pound carronades. The
lightest guns on the American fleet were eight long twelve-pounders,
while twenty-four of the British guns threw only nine-pound shot, or
less. The American broadside threw at close range about nine hundred
pounds of metal; the British threw about four hundred and sixty. At
long range the Americans threw two hundred and eighty-eight pounds of
metal; the British threw one hundred and ninety-five pounds. In tonnage
the Americans were superior as eight to seven. In short, the Navy
Department had done everything reasonably necessary to insure success;
and if the American crews, like the British, were partly made up of
landsmen, soldiers or volunteers, the reason was in each case the same.
Both governments supplied all the seamen they had.

Between forces so matched, victory ought not to have been in doubt;
and if it was so, the fault certainly lay not in Perry. When, at
daylight September 10, his look-out discovered the British fleet, Perry
got his own squadron under way, and came down with a light wind from
the southeast against Barclay’s line, striking it obliquely near the
head. Perry must have been anxious to fight at close range, where his
superiority was as two to one, while at long range his ship could use
only two long twelve-pounders against the “Detroit’s” six twelves,
one eighteen, and two twenty-fours,--an inferiority amounting to
helplessness. Both the “Lawrence” and the “Niagara” were armed for
close fighting, and were intended for nothing else. At long range their
combined broadside, even if all their twelve-pounders were worked on
one side, threw but forty-eight pounds of metal; at short range the two
brigs were able to throw six hundred and forty pounds at each broadside.

Perry could not have meant to fight at a distance, nor could Commander
Elliott have thought it good seamanship. Yet Perry alone acted on this
evident scheme; and though his official account showed that he had
himself fought at close range, and that he ordered the other commanders
to do the same, it gave no sufficient reasons to explain what prevented
the whole fleet from acting together, and made the result doubtful. He
did not even mention that he himself led the line in the “Lawrence,”
with two gunboats, the “Ariel” and the “Scorpion,” supporting him, the
“Caledonia,” “Niagara,” and three gunboats following. The “Lawrence”
came within range of the British line just at noon, the wind being very
light, the Lake calm, and Barclay, in the “Detroit,” opposite. Perry’s
report began at that point:--

    “At fifteen minutes before twelve the enemy commenced firing;
    at five minutes before twelve the action commenced on our part.
    Finding their fire very destructive, owing to their long guns,
    and its being mostly directed to the ‘Lawrence,’ I made sail (at
    quarter-past twelve) and directed the other vessels to follow, for
    the purpose of closing with the enemy. Every brace and bowline
    being shot away, she became unmanageable, notwithstanding the
    great exertions of the sailing-master. In this situation she
    sustained the action upwards of two hours, within canister-shot
    distance, until every gun was rendered useless, and a greater part
    of the crew either killed or wounded. Finding she could no longer
    annoy the enemy, I left her in charge of Lieutenant Yarnall, who, I
    was convinced from the bravery already displayed by him, would do
    what would comport with the honor of the flag. At half-past two,
    the wind springing up, Captain Elliott was enabled to bring his
    vessel, the ‘Niagara,’ gallantly into close action. I immediately
    went on board of her, when he anticipated my wish by volunteering
    to bring the schooners, which had been kept astern by the lightness
    of the wind, into close action.... At forty-five minutes past two
    the signal was made for ‘close action.’ The ‘Niagara’ being very
    little injured, I determined to pass through the enemy’s line; bore
    up, and passed ahead of their two ships and a brig, giving a raking
    fire to them from the starboard guns, and to a large schooner and
    sloop, from the larboard side, at half pistol-shot distance. The
    smaller vessels at this time having got within grape and canister
    distance, under the direction of Captain Elliott, and keeping
    up a well-directed fire, the two ships, a brig, and a schooner
    surrendered, a schooner and sloop making a vain attempt to escape.”

From this reticent report, any careful reader could see that for some
reason, not so distinctly given as would have been the case if the
wind alone were at fault, the action had been very badly fought on the
American side. The British official account confirmed the impression
given by Perry. Barclay’s story was as well told as his action was
well fought:--

    “At a quarter before twelve I commenced the action by a few long
    guns; about a quarter-past, the American commodore, also supported
    by two schooners, ... came to close action with the ‘Detroit.’ The
    other brig [the ‘Niagara’] of the enemy, apparently destined to
    engage the ‘Queen Charlotte,’ kept so far to windward as to render
    the ‘Queen Charlotte’s’ twenty-four pounder carronades useless,
    while she was, with the ‘Lady Prevost,’ exposed to the heavy and
    destructive fire of the ‘Caledonia’ and four other schooners, armed
    with heavy and long guns.... The action continued with great fury
    until half-past two, when I perceived my opponent [the ‘Lawrence’]
    drop astern, and a boat passing from him to the ‘Niagara,’ which
    vessel was at this time perfectly fresh. The American commodore,
    seeing that as yet the day was against him, ... made a noble and,
    alas! too successful an effort to regain it; for he bore up, and
    supported by his small vessels, passed within pistol-shot and took
    a raking position on our bow.... The weather-gage gave the enemy a
    prodigious advantage, as it enabled them not only to choose their
    position, but their distance also, which they [the ‘Caledonia,’
    ‘Niagara,’ and the gunboats] did in such a manner as to prevent
    the carronades of the ‘Queen Charlotte’ and ‘Lady Prevost’ from
    having much effect, while their long ones did great execution,
    particularly against the ‘Queen Charlotte.’”

Barclay’s report, agreeing with Perry’s, made it clear that while
Perry and the head of the American line fought at close quarters,
the “Caledonia,” “Niagara,” and the four gunboats supporting them
preferred fighting at long range,--not because they wanted wind, but
because the “Caledonia” and gunboats were armed with long thirty-two
and twenty-four pounders, while the British vessels opposed to them had
only one or two long twelve-pounders. Certainly the advantage in this
respect on the side of the American brig and gunboats was enormous;
but these tactics threw the “Niagara,” which had not the same excuse,
out of the battle, leaving her, from twelve o’clock till half-past
two, firing only two twelve-pound guns, while her heavy armament was
useless, and might as well have been left ashore. Worse than this,
the persistence of the “Caledonia,” “Niagara,” and their gunboats in
keeping, beyond range of their enemies’ carronades nearly lost the
battle, by allowing the British to concentrate on the “Lawrence” all
their heavy guns, and in the end compelling the “Lawrence” to strike.
On all these points no reasonable doubt could exist. The two reports
were the only official sources of information on which an opinion as to
the merits of the action could properly be founded. No other account,
contemporaneous and authoritative, threw light on the subject, except
a letter by Lieutenant Yarnall, second in command to Perry on the
“Lawrence,” written September 15, and published in the Ohio newspapers
about September 29,--in which Yarnall said that if Elliott had brought
his ship into action when the signal was given, the battle would have
ended in much less time, and with less loss to the “Lawrence.” This
statement agreed with the tenor of the two official reports.

Furious as the battle was, a more furious dispute raged over it when
in the year 1834 the friends of Perry and of Elliott wrangled over
the action. With their dispute history need not concern itself. The
official reports left no reasonable doubt that Perry’s plan of battle
was correct; that want of wind was not the reason it failed; but that
the “Niagara” was badly managed by Elliott, and that the victory, when
actually forfeited by this mismanagement, was saved by the personal
energy of Perry, who, abandoning his own ship, brought the “Niagara”
through the enemy’s line, and regained the advantage of her heavy
battery. The luck which attended Perry’s career on the Lake saved him
from injury, when every other officer on the two opposing flagships
and four-fifths of his crew were killed or wounded, and enabled him to
perform a feat almost without parallel in naval warfare, giving him a
well-won immortality by means of the disaster unnecessarily incurred.
No process of argument or ingenuity of seamanship could deprive Perry
of the fame justly given him by the public, or detract from the
splendor of his reputation as the hero of the war. More than any other
battle of the time, the victory on Lake Erie was won by the courage and
obstinacy of a single man.

Between two opponents such as Perry and Barclay, no one doubted that
the ships were fought to their utmost. Of the “Lawrence” not much
was left; ship, officers, and crew were shot to pieces. Such carnage
was not known on the ocean, for even the cockpit where the sick and
wounded lay, being above water, was riddled by shot, and the wounded
were wounded again on the surgeon’s board. Of one hundred and three
effectives on the “Lawrence,” twenty-two were killed and sixty-one
wounded. The brig herself when she struck was a wreck, unmanageable,
her starboard bulwarks beaten in, guns dismounted, and rigging cut to
pieces. The British ships were in hardly better condition. The long
guns of the gunboats had raked them with destructive effect. Barclay
was desperately wounded; Finnis was killed; Barclay’s first lieutenant
was mortally wounded; not one commander or second in command could
keep the deck; the squadron had forty-one men killed and ninety-four
wounded, or nearly one man in three; the “Detroit” and “Queen
Charlotte” were unmanageable and fell foul; the “Lady Prevost” was
crippled, and drifted out of the fight. Perry could console himself
with the thought that if his ship had struck her flag, she had at least
struck to brave men.




CHAPTER VI.


GENERAL HARRISON, waiting at Seneca on the Sandusky River, received,
September 12, Perry’s famous despatch of September 10: “We have met the
enemy, and they are ours.” The navy having done its work, the army was
next to act.

The force under Harrison’s command was ample for the required purpose,
although it contained fewer regular troops than Armstrong had intended.
The seven regular regiments assigned to Harrison fell short in numbers
of the most moderate expectations. Instead of providing seven thousand
rank-and-file, the recruiting service ended in producing rather
more than twenty-five hundred.[122] Divided into two brigades under
Brigadier-Generals McArthur and Lewis Cass, with a light corps under
Lieutenant-Colonel Ball of the Light Dragoons, they formed only one
wing of Harrison’s army.

To supply his main force, Harrison had still to depend on Kentucky;
and once more that State made a great effort. Governor Shelby took the
field in person, leading three thousand volunteers,[123] organized
in eleven regiments, five brigades, and two divisions. Besides the
militia, who volunteered for this special purpose, Harrison obtained
the services of another Kentucky corps, which had already proved its
efficiency.

One of Armstrong’s happiest acts, at the beginning of his service as
War Secretary,[124] was to accept the aid of Richard M. Johnson in
organizing for frontier defence a mounted regiment of a thousand men,
armed with muskets or rifles, tomahawks, and knives.[125] Johnson and
his regiment took the field about June 1, and from that time anxiety
on account of Indians ceased. The regiment patrolled the district from
Fort Wayne to the river Raisin, and whether in marching or fighting
proved to be the most efficient corps in the Western country. Harrison
obtained the assistance of Johnson’s regiment for the movement into
Canada, and thereby increased the efficiency of his army beyond the
proportion of Johnson’s numbers.

While the mounted regiment moved by the road to Detroit, Harrison’s
main force was embarked in boats September 20, and in the course of a
few days some forty-five hundred infantry were safely conveyed by way
of Bass Island and Put-in-Bay to Middle Sister Island, about twelve
miles from the Canadian shore.[126] Harrison and Perry then selected
a landing place, and the whole force was successfully set ashore,
September 27, about three miles below Malden.

Although Proctor could not hope to maintain himself at Malden or
Detroit without control of the Lake, he had still the means of
rendering Harrison’s possession insecure. According to the British
account, he commanded at Detroit and Malden a force of nine hundred
and eighty-six regulars, giving about eight hundred effectives.[127]
Not less than thirty-five hundred Indian warriors had flocked to
Amherstburg, and although they greatly increased the British general’s
difficulties by bringing their families with them, they might be
formidable opponents to Harrison’s advance. Every motive dictated to
Proctor the necessity of resisting Harrison’s approach. To Tecumthe and
his Indians the evacuation of Malden and Detroit without a struggle
meant not only the sacrifice of their cause, but also cowardice; and
when Proctor announced to them, September 18, that he meant to retreat,
Tecumthe rose in the council and protested against the flight, likening
Proctor to a fat dog that had carried its tail erect, and now that it
was frightened dropped its tail between its legs and ran.[128] He told
Proctor to go if he liked, but the Indians would remain.

Proctor insisted upon retiring at least toward the Moravian town,
seventy miles on the road to Lake Ontario, and the Indians yielded.
The troops immediately began to burn or destroy the public property
at Detroit and Malden, or to load on wagons or boats what could not
be carried away. September 24, three days before Harrison’s army
landed, the British evacuated Malden and withdrew to Sandwich, allowing
Harrison to establish himself at Malden without a skirmish, and
neglecting to destroy the bridge over the Canards River.

Harrison was surprised at Proctor’s tame retreat.

    “Nothing but infatuation,” he reported,[129] “could have governed
    General Proctor’s conduct. The day that I landed below Malden he
    had at his disposal upward of three thousand Indian warriors; his
    regular force reinforced by the militia of the district would have
    made his number nearly equal to my aggregate, which on the day of
    landing did not exceed forty-five hundred.... His inferior officers
    say that his conduct has been a series of continued blunders.”

This crowning proof of Proctor’s incapacity disorganized his force.
Tecumthe expressed a general sentiment of the British army in his
public denunciation of Proctor’s cowardice. One of the inferior British
officers afterward declared that Proctor’s “marked inefficiency” and
“wanton sacrifice” of the troops raised more than a doubt not only of
his capacity but even of his personal courage, and led to serious
thoughts of taking away his authority.[130] The British at Sandwich
went through the same experience that marked the retreat of Hull and
his army from the same spot, only the year before.

Harrison on his side made no extreme haste to pursue. His army marched
into Malden at four o’clock on the afternoon of September 27,[131]
and he wrote to Secretary Armstrong that evening: “I will pursue the
enemy to-morrow, although there is no probability of my overtaking
him, as he has upwards of a thousand horses, and we have not one in
the army.”[132] The pursuit was not rapid. Sandwich, opposite Detroit,
was only thirteen miles above Malden, but Harrison required two days
to reach it, arriving at two o’clock on the afternoon of September 29.
From there, September 30, he wrote again to Secretary Armstrong that
he was preparing to pursue the enemy on the following day;[133] but he
waited for R. M. Johnson’s mounted regiment, which arrived at Detroit
September 30, and was obliged to consume a day in crossing the river.
Then the pursuit began with energy, but on the morning of October 2
Proctor had already a week’s advance and should have been safe.

Proctor seemed to imagine that the Americans would not venture to
pursue him. Moving, according to his own report,[134] “by easy
marches,” neither obstructing the road in his rear nor leaving
detachments to delay the enemy, he reached Dolson’s October 1, and
there halted his army, fifty miles from Sandwich, while he went to the
Moravian town some twenty-six miles beyond. He then intended to make a
stand at Chatham, three miles behind Dolson’s.

    “I had assured the Indians,” said Proctor’s report of October 23,
    “that we would not desert them, and it was my full determination
    to have made a stand at the Forks (Chatham), by which our vessels
    and stores would be protected; but after my arrival at Dover
    [Dolson’s] three miles lower down the river, I was induced to take
    post there first, where ovens had been constructed, and where there
    was some shelter for the troops, and had accordingly directed that
    it should be put into the best possible state of defence that time
    and circumstances would admit of; indeed it had been my intention
    to have opposed the enemy nearer the mouth of the river, had not
    the troops contrary to my intention been moved, during my absence
    of a few hours for the purpose of acquiring some knowledge of the
    country in my rear.”

The British army, left at Dolson’s October 1, without a general or
orders,[135] saw the American army arrive in its front, October 3,
and retired three miles to Chatham, where the Indians insisted upon
fighting; but when, the next morning, October 4, the Americans advanced
in order of battle,[136] the Indians after a skirmish changed their
minds and retreated. The British were compelled to sacrifice the
supplies they had brought by water to Chatham for establishing their
new base, and their retreat precipitated on the Moravian town the
confusion of flight already resembling rout.

Six miles on their way they met General Proctor returning from the
Moravian town, and as much dissatisfied with them as they with him.
Pressed closely by the American advance, the British troops made what
haste they could over excessively bad roads until eight o’clock in the
evening, when they halted within six miles of the Moravian town.[137]
The next morning, October 5, the enemy was again reported to be close
at hand, and the British force again retreated. About a mile and a
half from the Moravian town it was halted. Proctor had then retired as
far as he could, and there he must either fight, or abandon women and
children, sick and wounded, baggage, stores, and wagons, desert his
Indian allies, and fly to Lake Ontario. Probably flight would not have
saved his troops. More than a hundred miles of unsettled country lay
between them and their next base. The Americans had in their advance
the mounted regiment of R. M. Johnson, and could outmarch the most
lightly equipped British regulars. Already, according to Proctor’s
report, the rapidity of the Americans had destroyed the efficiency of
the British organization:[138]--

    “In the attempt to save provisions we became encumbered with boats
    not suited to the state of navigation. The Indians and the troops
    retreated on different sides of the river, and the boats to which
    sufficient attention had not been given became particularly exposed
    to the fire of the enemy who were advancing on the side the Indians
    were retiring, and most unfortunately fell into possession of the
    enemy, and with them several of the men, provisions, and all the
    ammunition that had not been issued to the troops and Indians. This
    disastrous circumstance afforded the enemy the means of crossing
    and advancing on both sides of the river. Finding the enemy were
    advancing too near I resolved to meet him, being strong in cavalry,
    in a wood below the Moravian town, which last was not cleared of
    Indian women and children, or of those of the troops, nor of the
    sick.”

The whole British force was then on the north bank of the river Thames,
retreating eastward by a road near the river bank. Proctor could hardly
claim to have exercised choice in the selection of a battleground,
unless he preferred placing his little force under every disadvantage.
“The troops were formed with their left to the river,” his report
continued, “with a reserve and a six-pounder on the road, near the
river; the Indians on the right.” According to the report of officers
of the Forty-first regiment, two lines of troops were formed in a
thick forest, two hundred yards apart. The first line began where the
six-pound field-piece stood, with a range of some fifty yards along
the road. A few Canadian Light Dragoons were stationed near the gun.
To the left of the road was the river; to the right a forest, free
from underbrush that could stop horsemen, but offering cover to an
approaching enemy within twenty paces of the British line.[139] In the
wood about two hundred men of the British Forty-first took position as
well as they could, behind trees, and there as a first line they waited
some two hours for their enemy to appear.

The second line, somewhat less numerous, two hundred yards behind the
first, and not within sight, was also formed in the wood; and on the
road, in rear of the second line, Proctor and his staff stationed
themselves. The Indians were collected behind a swamp on the right,
touching and covering effectually the British right flank, while the
river covered the left.

Such a formation was best fitted for Harrison’s purposes, but the mere
arrangement gave little idea of Proctor’s weakness. The six-pound
field-piece, which as he afterward reported “certainly should have
produced the best effect if properly managed,” had not a round of
ammunition, and could not be fired.[140] The Forty-first regiment
was almost mutinous, but had it been in the best condition it could not
have held against serious attack. The whole strength of the Forty-first
was only three hundred and fifty-six rank-and-file, or four hundred
and eight men all told.[141] The numbers of the regiment actually in
the field were reported as three hundred and fifteen rank-and-file,
or three hundred and sixty-seven men all told.[142] The dragoons were
supposed not to exceed twenty. This petty force was unable to see
either the advancing enemy or its own members. The only efficient
corps in the field was the Indians, who were estimated by the British
sometimes at five hundred, at eight hundred, and twelve hundred in
number, and who were in some degree covered by the swamp.

[Illustration:

    A. B. Advance Guard on foot at head of 5 Collumns--the 1st
    Battalion of the mounted Regiments.

    C. D. Capt. Slecker’s Comp. of 100 men on foot at head of 2 Collumns

    Note: five Brigades & Reserved Corps, Governor Shelbys troops

    G. D. E. represents the whole of the 2d Battalion after I was
    wounded & finding it impracticable on account of logs & the
    thickness of the woods to break through the Indian line & form
    in their rear, I ordered the men to dismount & fight the Indians
    in their own way, part of the time the Indians contended for the
    ground at the 2d Swamp.

ACCOMPANYING COL. R. M. JOHNSON’S LETTER OF NOV. 21st 1813, DETAILING
THE AFFAIR OF THE 5th AT THE RIVER THAMES, ETC.--WAR DEPARTMENT
ARCHIVES, MSS.]

Harrison came upon the British line soon after two o’clock in the
afternoon, and at once formed his army in regular order of battle. As
the order was disregarded, and the battle was fought, as he reported,
in a manner “not sanctioned by anything that I had seen or heard
of,”[143] the intended arrangement mattered little. In truth, the
battle was planned as well as fought by Richard M. Johnson, whose
energy impressed on the army a new character from the moment he joined
it. While Harrison drew up his infantry in order of battle, Johnson,
whose mounted regiment was close to the British line, asked leave to
charge,[144] and Harrison gave him the order, although he knew no rule
of war that sanctioned it.

Johnson’s tactics were hazardous, though effective. Giving to his
brother, James Johnson, half the regiment to lead up the road against
the six-pound gun and the British Forty-first regiment, R. M. Johnson
with the other half of his regiment wheeled to the left, at an angle
with the road, and crossed the swamp to attack twice his number of
Indians posted in a thick wood.

James Johnson, with his five hundred men, galloped directly through
the British first line,[145] receiving a confused fire, and passing
immediately to the rear of the British second line, so rapidly as
almost to capture Proctor himself, who fled at full speed.[146] As the
British soldiers straggled in bands or singly toward the rear, they
found themselves among the American mounted riflemen, and had no choice
but to surrender. About fifty men, with a single lieutenant, contrived
to escape through the woods; all the rest became prisoners.

R. M. Johnson was less fortunate. Crossing the swamp to his left, he
was received by the Indians in underbrush which the horses could not
penetrate. Under a sharp fire his men were obliged to dismount and
fight at close quarters. At an early moment of the battle, Johnson
was wounded by the rifle of an Indian warrior who sprang forward to
despatch him, but was killed by a ball from Johnson’s pistol. The
fighting at that point was severe, but Johnson’s men broke or turned
the Indian line, which was uncovered after the British defeat, and
driving the Indians toward the American left, brought them under fire
of Shelby’s infantry, when they fled.

In this contest Johnson maintained that his regiment was alone engaged.
In a letter to Secretary Armstrong, dated six weeks after the battle,
he said:[147]--

    “I send you an imperfect sketch of the late battle on the river
    Thames, fought solely by the mounted regiment; at least, so much
    so that not fifty men from any other corps assisted.... Fought the
    Indians, twelve hundred or fifteen hundred men, one hour and twenty
    minutes, driving them from the extreme right to the extreme left
    of my line, at which last point we came near Governor Shelby, who
    ordered Colonel Simrall to reinforce me; but the battle was over,
    and although the Indians were pursued half a mile, there was no
    fighting.”

Harrison’s official report gave another idea of the relative share
taken by the Kentucky infantry in the action; but the difference in
dispute was trifling. The entire American loss was supposed to be
only about fifteen killed and thirty wounded. The battle lasted, with
sharpness, not more than twenty minutes; and none but the men under
Johnson’s command enjoyed opportunity to share in the first and most
perilous assault.

The British loss was only twelve men killed and thirty-six wounded.
The total number of British prisoners taken on the field and in the
Moravian town, or elsewhere on the day of battle, was four hundred
and seventy-seven; in the whole campaign, six hundred. All Proctor’s
baggage, artillery, small arms, stores, and hospital were captured in
the Moravian town. The Indians left thirty-three dead on the field,
among them one reported to be Tecumthe. After the battle several
officers of the British Forty-first, well acquainted with the Shawnee
warrior, visited the spot, and identified his body. The Kentuckians
had first recognized it, and had cut long strips of skin from the
thighs, to keep, as was said, for razor-straps, in memory of the river
Raisin.[148]

After Perry’s victory on Lake Erie, Tecumthe’s life was of no value
to himself or his people, and his death was no subject for regret;
but the manner chosen for producing this result was an expensive mode
of acquiring territory for the United States. The Shawnee warrior
compelled the government to pay for once something like the value
of the lands it took. The precise cost of the Indian war could not
be estimated, being combined in many ways with that of the war with
England; but the British counted for little, within the northwestern
territory, except so far as Tecumthe used them for his purposes. Not
more than seven or eight hundred British soldiers ever crossed the
Detroit River; but the United States raised fully twenty thousand men,
and spent at least five million dollars and many lives in expelling
them. The Indians alone made this outlay necessary. The campaign of
Tippecanoe, the surrender of Detroit and Mackinaw, the massacres at
Fort Dearborn, the river Raisin, and Fort Meigs, the murders along the
frontier, and the campaign of 1813 were the price paid for the Indian
lands in the Wabash Valley.

No part of the war more injured British credit on the American
continent than the result of the Indian alliance. Except the capture of
Detroit and Mackinaw at the outset, without fighting, and the qualified
success at the river Raisin, the British suffered only mortifications,
ending with the total loss of their fleet, the abandonment of their
fortress, the flight of their army, and the shameful scene before the
Moravian town, where four hundred British regulars allowed themselves
to be ridden over and captured by five hundred Kentucky horsemen, with
hardly the loss of a man to the assailants. After such a disgrace
the British ceased to be formidable in the northwest. The Indians
recognized the hopelessness of their course, and from that moment
abandoned their dependence on England.

The battle of the Thames annihilated the right division of the
British army in Upper Canada. When the remnants of Proctor’s force
were mustered, October 17, at Ancaster, a hundred miles from the
battlefield, about two hundred rank-and-file were assembled.[149]
Proctor made a report of the battle blaming his troops, and Prevost
issued a severe reprimand to the unfortunate Forty-first regiment on
the strength of Proctor’s representations. In the end the Prince Regent
disgraced both officers, recognizing by these public acts the loss of
credit the government had suffered; but its recovery was impossible.

So little anxiety did General Harrison thenceforward feel about the
Eighth Military District which he commanded, that he returned to
Detroit October 7; his army followed him, and arrived at Sandwich,
October 10, without seeing an enemy. Promptly discharged, the Kentucky
Volunteers marched homeward October 14; the mounted regiment and its
wounded colonel followed a few days later, and within a fortnight only
two brigades of the regular army remained north of the Maumee.

At Detroit the war was closed, and except for two or three distant
expeditions was not again a subject of interest. The Indians were for
the most part obliged to remain within the United States jurisdiction.
The great number of Indian families that had been collected about
Detroit and Malden were rather a cause for confidence than fear,
since they were in effect hostages, and any violence committed by
the warriors would have caused them, their women and children, to be
deprived of food and to perish of starvation. Detroit was full of
savages dependent on army supplies, and living on the refuse and offal
of the slaughter-yard; but their military strength was gone. Some
hundreds of the best warriors followed Proctor to Lake Ontario, but
Tecumthe’s northwestern confederacy was broken up, and most of the
tribes made submission.




CHAPTER VII.


THE new Secretaries of War and Navy who took office in January, 1813,
were able in the following October to show Detroit recovered. Nine
months solved the problem of Lake Erie. The problem of Lake Ontario
remained insoluble.

In theory nothing was simpler than the conquest of Upper Canada. Six
months before war was declared, Jan. 2, 1812, John Armstrong, then a
private citizen, wrote to Secretary Eustis a letter containing the
remark,--

    “In invading a neighboring and independent territory like Canada,
    having a frontier of immense extent; destitute of means strictly
    its own for the purposes of defence; separated from the rest of the
    empire by an ocean, and having to this but one outlet,--this outlet
    forms your true object or point of attack.”

The river St. Lawrence was the true object of attack, and the Canadians
hardly dared hope to defend it.

    “From St. Regis to opposite Kingston,” said the Quebec “Gazette” in
    1814, “the southern bank of the river belongs to the United States.
    It is well known that this river is the only communication between
    Upper and Lower Canada. It is rapid and narrow in many places.
    A few cannon judiciously posted, or even musketry, could render the
    communication impracticable without powerful escorts, wasting and
    parcelling the force applicable to the defence of the provinces. It
    is needless to say that no British force can remain in safety or
    maintain itself in Upper Canada without a ready communication with
    the lower province.”

Closure of the river anywhere must compel the submission of the whole
country above, which could not provide its supplies. The American,
who saw his own difficulties of transport between New York and the
Lakes, thought well of his energy in surmounting them; but as the war
took larger proportions, and great fleets were built on Lake Ontario,
the difficulties of Canadian transport became insuperable. Toward the
close of the war, Sir George Prevost wrote to Lord Bathurst[150] that
six thirty-two-pound guns for the fleet, hauled in winter four hundred
miles from Quebec to Kingston, would cost at least £2000 for transport.
Forty twenty-four-pounders hauled on the snow had cost £4,800; a cable
of the largest size hauled from Sorel to Kingston, two hundred and
fifty-five miles, cost £1000 for transport. In summer, when the river
was open, the difficulties were hardly less. The commissary-general
reported that the impediments of navigation were incalculable, and the
scarcity of workmen, laborers, and voyageurs not to be described.[151]

[Illustration: UPPER CANADA

NEW YORK

  EAST END OF
  LAKE ONTARIO
  AND
  RIVER ST. LAWRENCE
  FROM
  Kingston to French Mills
  REDUCED FROM AN
  ORIGINAL DRAWING IN THE
  NAVAL DEPARTMENT
  BY JOHN MELISH.

  STRUTHERS & CO., ENGR’S, N.Y.
]

If these reasons for attacking and closing the river St. Lawrence had
not been decisive with the United States government, other reasons
were sufficient. The political motive was as strong as the military.
Americans, especially in New England, denied that treasonable
intercourse existed with Canada; but intercourse needed not to be
technically treasonable in order to have the effects of treason. Sir
George Prevost wrote to Lord Bathurst, Aug. 27, 1814,[152] when the war
had lasted two years,--

    “Two thirds of the army in Canada are at this moment eating beef
    provided by American contractors, drawn principally from the States
    of Vermont and New York. This circumstance, as well as that of the
    introduction of large sums of specie into this province, being
    notorious in the United States, it is to be expected Congress
    will take steps to deprive us of those resources, and under that
    apprehension, large droves are daily crossing the lines coming into
    Lower Canada.”

This state of things had then lasted during three campaigns, from
the beginning of the war. The Indians at Malden, the British army at
Niagara, the naval station at Kingston were largely fed by the United
States. If these supplies could be stopped, Upper Canada must probably
fall; and they could be easily stopped by interrupting the British line
of transport anywhere on the St. Lawrence.

The task was not difficult. Indeed, early in the war an enterprising
officer of irregulars, Major Benjamin Forsyth, carried on a troublesome
system of annoyance from Ogdensburg, which Sir George Prevost treated
with extreme timidity.[153] The British commandant at Prescott, Major
Macdonnell, was not so cautious as the governor-general, but crossed
the river on the ice with about five hundred men, drove Forsyth from
the town, destroyed the public property, and retired in safety with
a loss of eight killed and fifty-two wounded.[154] This affair, Feb.
23, 1813, closed hostilities in that region, and Major Forsyth was
soon ordered to Sackett’s Harbor. His experience, and that of Major
Macdonnell, proved how easy the closure of such a river must be,
exposed as it was for two hundred miles to the fire of cannon and
musketry.

The St. Lawrence was therefore the proper point of approach and attack
against Upper Canada. Armstrong came to the Department of War with that
idea fixed in his mind. The next subject for his consideration was the
means at his disposal.

During Monroe’s control of the War Department for two months, between
Dec. 3, 1812, and Feb. 5, 1813, much effort had been made to increase
the army. Monroe wrote to the chairman of the Military Committee Dec.
22, 1812, a sketch of his ideas.[155] He proposed to provide for the
general defence by dividing the United States into military districts,
and apportioning ninety-three hundred and fifty men among them as
garrisons. For offensive operations he required a force competent to
overpower the British defence, and in estimating his wants, he assumed
that Canada contained about twelve thousand British regulars, besides
militia, and three thousand men at Halifax.

    “To demolish the British force from Niagara to Quebec,” said
    Monroe, “would require, to make the thing secure, an efficient
    regular army of twenty thousand men, with an army of reserve of
    ten thousand.... If the government could raise and keep in the
    field thirty-five thousand regular troops, ... the deficiency to
    be supplied even to authorize an expedition against Halifax would
    be inconsiderable. Ten thousand men would be amply sufficient;
    but there is danger of not being able to raise that force, and to
    keep it at that standard.... My idea is that provision ought to be
    made for raising twenty thousand men in addition to the present
    establishment.”

Congress voted about fifty-eight thousand men, and after deducting ten
thousand for garrisons, counted on forty-eight thousand for service
in Canada. When Armstrong took control, Feb. 5, 1813, he began at
once to devise a plan of operation for the army which by law numbered
fifty-eight thousand men, and in fact numbered, including the staff and
regimental officers, eighteen thousand nine hundred and forty-five
men, according to the returns in the adjutant-general’s office February
16, 1813. Before he had been a week in the War Department, he wrote,
February 10, to Major-General Dearborn announcing that four thousand
men were to be immediately collected at Sackett’s Harbor, and three
thousand at Buffalo. April 1, or as soon as navigation opened, the four
thousand troops at Sackett’s Harbor were to be embarked and transported
in boats under convoy of the fleet across the Lake at the mouth of
the St. Lawrence, thirty-five miles, to Kingston. After capturing
Kingston, with its magazines, navy-yards, and ships, the expedition
was to proceed up the Lake to York (Toronto) and capture two vessels
building there. Thence it was to join the corps of three thousand men
at Buffalo, and attack the British on the Niagara River.[156]

In explaining his plan to the Cabinet, Armstrong pointed out that the
attack from Lake Champlain on Montreal could not begin before May 1;
that Kingston, between April 1 and May 15, was shut from support by
ice; that not more than two thousand men could be gathered to defend
it; and that by beginning the campaign against Kingston rather than
against Montreal, six weeks’ time would be gained before reinforcements
could arrive from England.[157]

Whatever defects the plan might have, Kingston, and Kingston alone,
possessed so much military importance as warranted the movement.
Evidently Armstrong had in mind no result short of the capture of
Kingston.

Dearborn received these instructions at Albany, and replied, February
18, that nothing should be omitted on his part in endeavoring to
carry into effect the expedition proposed.[158] Orders were given
for concentrating the intended force at Sackett’s Harbor. During the
month of March the preparations were stimulated by a panic due to the
appearance of Sir George Prevost at Prescott and Kingston. Dearborn
hurried to Sackett’s Harbor in person, under the belief that the
governor-general was about to attack it.

Armstrong estimated the British force at Kingston as nine hundred
regulars, or two thousand men all told; and his estimate was probably
correct. The usual garrison at Kingston and Prescott was about eight
hundred rank-and-file. In both the British and American services, the
returns of rank-and-file were the ordinary gauge of numerical force.
Rank-and-file included corporals, but not sergeants or commissioned
officers; and an allowance of at least ten sergeants and officers was
always to be made for every hundred rank-and-file, in order to estimate
the true numerical strength of an army or garrison. Unless otherwise
mentioned, the return excluded also the sick and disabled. The
relative force of every army was given in effectives, or rank-and-file
actually present for duty.

In the distribution of British forces in Canada for 1812–1813, the
garrison at Prescott was allowed three hundred and seventy-six
rank-and-file, with fifty-two officers including sergeants. To Kingston
three hundred and eighty-four rank-and-file were allotted, with sixty
officers including sergeants. To Montreal and the positions between
Prescott and the St. John’s River about five thousand rank-and-file
were allotted.[159] At Prescott and Kingston, besides the regular
troops, the men employed in ship-building or other labor, the sailors,
and the local militia were to be reckoned as part of the garrison, and
Armstrong included them all in his estimate of two thousand men.

The British force should have been known to Dearborn nearly as well
as his own. No considerable movement of troops between Lower and
Upper Canada could occur without his knowledge. Yet Dearborn wrote to
Armstrong, March 9, 1813, from Sackett’s Harbor,[160]--

    “I have not yet had the honor of a visit from Sir George Prevost.
    His whole force is concentrated at Kingston, probably amounting
    to six or seven thousand,--about three thousand of them regular
    troops. The ice is good, and we expect him every day.... As soon
    as the fall [fate?] of this place [Sackett’s Harbor] shall be
    decided, we shall be able to determine on other measures. If we
    hold this place, we will command the Lake, and be able to act in
    concert with the troops at Niagara.”

A few days later, March 14, Dearborn wrote again.[161]

    “Sir George,” he said, had “concluded that it is too late to
    attack this place.... We are probably just strong enough on each
    side to defend, but not in sufficient force to hazard an offensive
    movement. The difference of attacking and being attacked, as it
    regards the contiguous posts of Kingston and Sackett’s Harbor,
    cannot be estimated at less than three or four thousand men,
    arising from the circumstance of militia acting merely on the
    defensive.”

Clearly Dearborn did not approve Armstrong’s plan, and wished to
change it. In this idea he was supported, or instigated, by the naval
commander on the Lake, Isaac Chauncey, a native of Connecticut, forty
years of age, who entered the service in 1798 and became captain in
1806. Chauncey and Dearborn consulted together, and devised a new
scheme, which Dearborn explained to Armstrong about March 20:[162]--

    “To take or destroy the armed vessels at York will give us the
    complete command of the Lake. Commodore Chauncey can take with him
    ten or twelve hundred troops to be commanded by Pike; take York;
    from thence proceed to Niagara and attack Fort George by land
    and water, while the troops at Buffalo cross over and carry Forts
    Erie and Chippewa, and join those at Fort George; and then collect
    our whole force for an attack on Kingston. After the most mature
    deliberation the above was considered by Commodore Chauncey and
    myself as the most certain of ultimate success.”

Thus Dearborn and Chauncey inverted Armstrong’s plan. Instead of
attacking on the St. Lawrence, they proposed to attack on the
Niagara. Armstrong acquiesced. “Taking for granted,” as he did[163]
on Dearborn’s assertion, “that General Prevost ... has assembled at
Kingston a force of six or eight thousand men, as stated by you,” he
could not require that his own plan should be pursued. “The alteration
in the plan of campaign so as to make Kingston the last object instead
of making it the first, would appear to be necessary, or at least
proper,” he wrote to Dearborn, March 29.[164]

The scheme proposed by Dearborn and Chauncey was carried into effect by
them. The contractors furnished new vessels, which gave to Chauncey for
a time the control of the Lake. April 22 the troops, numbering sixteen
hundred men, embarked. Armstrong insisted on only one change in the
expedition, which betrayed perhaps a shade of malice, for he required
Dearborn himself to command it, and Dearborn was suspected of shunning
service in the field.

From the moment Dearborn turned away from the St. Lawrence and
carried the war westward, the naval and military movements on Lake
Ontario became valuable chiefly as a record of failure. The fleet
and army arrived at York early in the morning of April 27. York, a
village numbering in 1806, according to British account, more than
three thousand inhabitants, was the capital of Upper Canada, and
contained the residence of the lieutenant-governor and the two brick
buildings where the Legislature met. For military purposes the place
was valueless, but it had been used for the construction of a few
war-vessels, and Chauncey represented, through Dearborn, that “to take
or destroy the armed vessels at York will give us the complete command
of the Lake.” The military force at York, according to British account,
did not exceed six hundred men, regulars and militia; and of these,
one hundred and eighty men, or two companies of the Eighth or King’s
regiment, happened to be there only in passing.[165]

Under the fire of the fleet and riflemen, Pike’s brigade was set
ashore; the British garrison, after a sharp resistance, was driven
away, and the town capitulated. The ship on the stocks was burned;
the ten-gun brig “Gloucester” was made prize; the stores were
destroyed or shipped; some three hundred prisoners were taken; and
the public buildings, including the houses of Assembly, were burned.
The destruction of the Assembly houses, afterward alleged as ground
for retaliation against the capitol at Washington, was probably the
unauthorized act of private soldiers. Dearborn protested that it was
done without his knowledge and against his orders.[166]

The success cost far more than it was worth. The explosion of a powder
magazine, near which the American advance halted, injured a large
number of men on both sides. Not less than three hundred and twenty
Americans were killed or wounded in the battle or explosion,[167] or
about one fifth of the entire force. General Pike, the best brigadier
then in the service, was killed. Only two or three battles in the
entire war were equally bloody.[168] “Unfortunately the enemy’s armed
ship the ‘Prince Regent,’” reported Dearborn,[169] “left this place for
Kingston four days before we arrived.”

Chauncey and Dearborn crossed to Niagara, while the troops remained
some ten days at York, and were then disembarked at Niagara, May
8, according to Dearborn’s report, “in a very sickly and depressed
state; a large proportion of the officers and men were sickly and
debilitated.”[170] Nothing was ready for the movement which was to
drive the British from Fort George, and before active operations
could begin, Dearborn fell ill. The details of command fell to his
chief-of-staff, Colonel Winfield Scott.

The military organization at Niagara was at best unfortunate. One of
Secretary Armstrong’s earliest measures was to issue the military
order previously arranged by Monroe, dividing the Union into military
districts. Vermont and the State of New York north of the highlands
formed the Ninth Military District, under Major-General Dearborn. In
the Ninth District were three points of activity,--Plattsburg on Lake
Champlain, Sackett’s Harbor on Lake Ontario, and the Niagara River.
Each point required a large force and a commander of the highest
ability; but in May, 1813, Plattsburg and Sackett’s Harbor were denuded
of troops and officers, who were all drawn to Niagara, where they
formed three brigades, commanded by Brigadier-Generals John P. Boyd,
who succeeded Pike, John Chandler, and W. H. Winder. Niagara and the
troops in its neighborhood were under the command of Major-General
Morgan Lewis, a man of ability, but possessing neither the youth nor
the energy to lead an army in the field, while Boyd, Chandler, and
Winder were competent only to command regiments.

Winfield Scott in effect assumed control of the army, and undertook to
carry out Van Rensselaer’s plan of the year before for attacking Fort
George in the rear, from the Lake. The task was not very difficult.
Chauncey controlled the Lake, and his fleet was at hand to transfer the
troops. Dearborn’s force numbered certainly not less than four thousand
rank-and-file present for duty. The entire British regular force on the
Niagara River did not exceed eighteen hundred rank-and-file, and about
five hundred militia.[171] At Fort George about one thousand regulars
and three hundred militia were stationed, and the military object to
be gained by the Americans was not so much the capture of Fort George,
which was then not defensible, as that of its garrison.

Early on the morning of May 27, when the mist cleared away, the British
General Vincent saw Chauncey’s fleet, “in an extended line of more than
two miles,” standing toward the shore. When the ships took position,
“the fire from the shipping so completely enfiladed and scoured the
plains, that it became impossible to approach the beach,” and Vincent
could only concentrate his force between the Fort and the enemy,
waiting attack. Winfield Scott at the head of an advance division first
landed, followed by the brigades of Boyd, Winder, and Chandler, and
after a sharp skirmish drove the British back along the Lake shore,
advancing under cover of the fleet. Vincent’s report continued:[172]--

    “After awaiting the approach of the enemy for about half an hour
    I received authentic information that his force, consisting of
    from four to five thousand men, had reformed his columns and was
    making an effort to turn my right flank. Having given orders for
    the fort to be evacuated, the guns to be spiked, and the ammunition
    destroyed, the troops under my command were put in motion, and
    marched across the country in a line parallel to the Niagara
    River, toward the position near the Beaver Dam beyond Queenston
    mountain.... Having assembled my whole force the following morning,
    which did not exceed sixteen hundred men, I continued my march
    toward the head of the Lake.”

Vincent lost severely in proportion to his numbers, for fifty-one
men were killed, and three hundred and five were wounded or missing,
chiefly in the Eighth or King’s regiment.[173] Several hundred militia
were captured in his retreat. The American loss was about forty killed
and one hundred and twenty wounded. According to General Morgan Lewis,
Col. Winfield Scott “fought nine-tenths of the battle.”[174] Dearborn
watched the movements from the fleet.

For a time this success made a deep impression on the military
administration of Canada, and the abandonment of the whole country west
of Kingston was thought inevitable.[175] The opportunity for achieving
a decided advantage was the best that occurred for the Americans
during the entire war; but whatever might be said in public, the
battle of Fort George was a disappointment to the War Department[176]
as well as to the officers in command of the American army, who had
hoped to destroy the British force. The chief advantage gained was the
liberation of Perry’s vessels at Black Rock above the Falls, which
enabled Perry to complete his fleet on Lake Erie.

On Lake Ontario, May 31, Chauncey insisted, not without cause, on
returning to Sackett’s Harbor. Dearborn, instead of moving with his
whole force, ordered Brigadier-General Winder, June 1, to pursue
Vincent. Winder, with eight hundred or a thousand men marched twenty
miles, and then sent for reinforcements. He was joined, June 5, by
General Chandler with another brigade. Chandler then took command, and
advanced with a force supposed to number in the aggregate two thousand
men[177] to Stony Creek, within ten miles of Vincent’s position at
Hamilton, where sixteen hundred British regulars were encamped. There
Chandler and Winder posted themselves for the night, much as Winchester
and his Kentuckians had camped at the river Raisin four months
earlier.[178]

Vincent was not to be treated with such freedom. Taking only seven
hundred rank-and-file,[179] he led them himself against Chandler’s
camp. The attack began, in intense darkness, at two o’clock in the
morning of June 6. The British quickly broke the American centre and
carried the guns. The lines became mixed, and extreme confusion lasted
till dawn. In the darkness both American generals, Chandler and Winder,
walked into the British force in the centre, and were captured.[180]
With difficulty the two armies succeeded in recovering their order, and
then retired in opposite directions. The British suffered severely,
reporting twenty-three killed, one hundred and thirty-four wounded,
and fifty-five missing, or two hundred and twelve men in all; but they
safely regained Burlington Heights at dawn.[181] The American loss
was less in casualties, for it amounted only to fifty-five killed and
wounded, and one hundred missing; but in results the battle at Stony
Creek was equally disgraceful and decisive. The whole American force,
leaving the dead unburied, fell back ten miles, where Major-General
Lewis took command in the afternoon of June 7. An hour later the
British fleet under Sir James Yeo made its appearance, threatening to
cut off Lewis’s retreat. Indians hovered about. Boats and baggage were
lost. Dearborn sent pressing orders to Lewis directing him to return,
and on the morning of June 8 the division reached Fort George.[182]

These mortifications prostrated Dearborn, whose strength had been
steadily failing. June 8 he wrote to Armstrong: “My ill state of health
renders it extremely painful to attend to the current duties; and
unless my health improves soon, I fear I shall be compelled to retire
to some place where my mind may be more at ease for a short time.”[183]
June 10, his adjutant-general, Winfield Scott, issued orders devolving
on Major-General Morgan Lewis the temporary command not only of
the Niagara army but also of the Ninth Military district.[184] “In
addition to the debility and fever he has been afflicted with,” wrote
Dearborn’s aid, S. S. Connor, to Secretary Armstrong, June 12,[185]
“he has, within the last twenty-four hours, experienced a violent
spasmodic attack on his breast, which has obliged him to relinquish
business altogether.” “I have doubts whether he will ever again be fit
for service,” wrote Morgan Lewis to Armstrong, June 14;[186] “he has
been repeatedly in a state of convalescence, but relapses on the least
agitation of mind.” June 20 Dearborn himself wrote in a very despondent
spirit both in regard to his health and to the military situation: “I
have been so reduced in strength as to be incapable of any command.
Brigadier-General Boyd is the only general officer present.”[187]

The sudden departure of Morgan Lewis, ordered to Sackett’s Harbor,
left General Boyd for a few days to act as the general in command at
Niagara. Boyd, though well known for his success at Tippecanoe, was
not a favorite in the army. “A compound of ignorance, vanity, and
petulance,” wrote his late superior, Morgan Lewis,[188] “with nothing
to recommend him but that species of bravery in the field which is
vaporing, boisterous, stifling reflection, blinding observation, and
better adapted to the bully than the soldier.”

Galled by complaints of the imbecility of the army, Boyd, with
Dearborn’s approval,[189] June 23, detached Colonel Boerstler of the
Fourteenth Infantry with some four hundred men and two field-pieces,
to batter a stone house at Beaver Dam, some seventeen miles from Fort
George.[190] Early in the morning of June 24 Boerstler marched to
Beaver Dam. There he found himself surrounded in the woods by hostile
Indians, numbering according to British authority about two hundred.
The Indians, annoying both front and rear, caused Boerstler to attempt
retreat, but his retreat was stopped by a few militia-men, said to
number fifteen.[191] A small detachment of one hundred and fifty men
came to reinforce Boerstler, and Lieutenant Fitzgibbon of the British
Forty-ninth regiment, with forty-seven men, reinforced the Indians.
Unable to extricate himself, and dreading dispersion and massacre,
Boerstler decided to surrender; and his five hundred and forty men
accordingly capitulated to a British lieutenant with two hundred and
sixty Indians, militia, and regulars.

Dearborn reported the disaster as “an unfortunate and unaccountable
event;”[192] but of such events the list seemed endless. A worse
disaster, equally due to Dearborn and Chauncey, occurred at the
other end of the Lake. Had they attacked Kingston, as Armstrong
intended, their movement would have covered Sackett’s Harbor; but
when they placed themselves a hundred and fifty miles to the westward
of Sackett’s Harbor, they could do nothing to protect it. Sackett’s
Harbor was an easy morning’s sail from Kingston, and the capture of the
American naval station was an object of infinite desire on the part of
Sir George Prevost, since it would probably decide the result of the
war.

Prevost, though not remarkable for audacity, could not throw away such
an opportunity without ruining his reputation. He came to Kingston, and
while Dearborn was preparing to capture Fort George in the night of
May 26–27, Prevost embarked his whole regular force, eight hundred men
all told,[193] on Yeo’s fleet at Kingston, set sail in the night, and
at dawn of May 27 was in sight of Sackett’s Harbor.[194]

Had Yeo and Prevost acted with energy, they must have captured the
Harbor without serious resistance. According to Sir George’s official
report, “light and adverse winds” prevented the ships from nearing the
Fort until evening.[195] Probably constitutional vacillation on the
part of Sir James Yeo caused delay, for Prevost left the control wholly
to him and Colonel Baynes.[196]

At Sackett’s Harbor about four hundred men of different regular
regiments, and about two hundred and fifty Albany volunteers were in
garrison; and a general alarm, given on appearance of the British fleet
in the distance, brought some hundreds of militia into the place; but
the most important reinforcement was Jacob Brown, a brigadier-general
of State militia who lived in the neighborhood, and had been requested
by Dearborn to take command in case of an emergency. Brown arrived at
the Harbor in time to post the men in order of battle. Five hundred
militia were placed at the point where the British were expected to
land; the regulars were arranged in a second line; the forts were in
the rear.

[Illustration:

  EAST END
  OF
  LAKE ONTARIO

  STRUTHERS & CO., ENGR’S., N.Y.
]

At dawn of May 28, under command of Colonel Baynes, the British
grenadiers of the One Hundredth regiment landed gallantly under “so
heavy and galling a fire from a numerous but almost invisible foe, as
to render it impossible to halt for the artillery to come up.”[197]
Pressing rapidly forward, without stopping to fire, the British
regulars routed the militia and forced the second line back until they
reached a block-house at the edge of the village, where a thirty-two
pound gun was in position, flanked by log barracks and fallen timber.
While Brown with difficulty held his own at the military barracks, the
naval lieutenant in charge of the ship-yard, being told that the battle
was lost, set fire to the naval barracks, shipping, and store-houses.
Brown’s indignation at this act was intense.

    “The burning of the marine barracks was as infamous a transaction
    as ever occurred among military men,” he wrote to Dearborn.[198]
    “The fire was set as our regulars met the enemy upon the main line;
    and if anything could have appalled these gallant men it would have
    been the flames in their rear. We have all, I presume, suffered
    in the public estimation in consequence of this disgraceful
    burning. The fact is, however, that the army is entitled to much
    higher praise than though it had not occurred. The navy are alone
    responsible for what happened on Navy Point, and it is fortunate
    for them that they have reputations sufficient to sustain the
    shock.”

Brown’s second line stood firm at the barracks, and the British attack
found advance impossible. Sir George Prevost’s report admitted his
inability to go farther:[199]--

    “A heavier fire than that of musketry having become necessary
    in order to force their last position, I had the mortification
    to learn that the continuation of light and adverse winds had
    prevented the co-operation of the ships, and that the gunboats
    were unequal to silence the enemy’s elevated batteries, or to
    produce any effect on their block houses. Considering it therefore
    impracticable without such assistance to carry the strong works by
    which the post was defended, I reluctantly ordered the troops to
    leave a beaten enemy whom they had driven before them for upwards
    of three hours, and who did not venture to offer the slightest
    opposition to the re-embarkation, which was effected with proper
    deliberation and in perfect order.”

If Sir George was correct in regarding the Americans as “a beaten
enemy,” his order of retreat to his own troops seemed improper; but
his language showed that he used the words in a sense of his own, and
Colonel Baynes’s report gave no warrant for the British claim of a
victory.[200]

    “At this point,” said Baynes,[201] “the further energies of the
    troops became unavailing. Their [American] block-houses and
    stockaded battery could not be carried by assault, nor reduced by
    field-pieces had we been provided with them.... Seeing no object
    within our reach to attain that could compensate for the loss we
    were momentarily sustaining from the heavy fire of the enemy’s
    cannon, I directed the troops to take up the position we had
    charged from. From this position we were ordered to re-embark,
    which was performed at our leisure and in perfect order, the enemy
    not presuming to show a single soldier without the limits of his
    fortress.”

Another and confidential report was written by E. B. Brenton of
Prevost’s staff to the governor’s military secretary, Noah Freer.[202]
After describing the progress of the battle until the British advance
was stopped, Brenton said that Colonel Baynes came to Sir George to
tell him that the men could not approach nearer the works with any
prospect of success:--

    “It was however determined to collect all the troops at a point,
    to form the line, and to make an attack immediately upon the
    battery and barracks in front. For this purpose the men in advance
    were called in, the line formed a little without the reach of the
    enemy’s musketry, and though evidently much fagged, was, after
    being supplied with fresh ammunition, again led in line. At this
    time I do not think the whole force collected in the lines exceeded
    five hundred men.”

The attack was made, and part of the Hundred-and-fourth regiment
succeeded in getting shelter behind one of the American barracks,
preparing for a farther advance. Sir George Prevost, under a fire which
his aid described as tremendous,--“I do not exaggerate when I tell you
that the shot, both of musketry and grape, was falling about us like
hail,”--watched the American position through a glass, when, “at this
time those who were left of the troops behind the barracks made a dash
out to charge the enemy; but the fire was so destructive that they
were instantly turned by it, and the retreat was sounded. Sir George,
fearless of danger and disdaining to run or to suffer his men to run,
repeatedly called out to them to retire in order; many however made off
as fast as they could.”

These reports agreed that the British attack was totally defeated, with
severe loss, before the retreat was sounded. Such authorities should
have silenced dispute; but Prevost had many enemies in Canada, and
at that period of the war the British troops were unused to defeat.
Both Canadians and English attacked the governor-general privately and
publicly, freely charging him with having disgraced the service, and
offering evidence of his want of courage in the action.[203] Americans,
though not interested in the defence of Prevost, could not fail to
remark that the British and Canadian authorities who condemned him,
assumed a condition of affairs altogether different from that accepted
by American authorities. The official American reports not only
supported the views taken by Prevost and Baynes of the hopelessness of
the British attack, but added particulars which made Prevost’s retreat
necessary. General Brown’s opinion was emphatic: “Had not General
Prevost retired _most rapidly_ under the guns of his vessels, he would
never have returned to Kingston.”[204] These words were a part of
Brown’s official report. Writing to Dearborn he spoke with the same
confidence:[205]--

    “The militia were all rallied before the enemy gave way, and were
    marching perfectly in his view towards the rear of his right flank;
    and I am confident that even then, if Sir George had not retired
    with the utmost precipitation to his boats, he would have been cut
    off.”

Unlike the Canadians, Brown thought Prevost’s conduct correct and
necessary, but was by no means equally complimentary to Sir James Yeo,
whom he blamed greatly for failing to join in the battle. The want of
wind which Yeo alleged in excuse, Brown flatly denied. From that time
Brown entertained and freely expressed contempt for Yeo, as he seemed
also to feel little respect for Chauncey. His experience with naval
administration on both sides led him to expect nothing but inefficiency
from either.

Whatever were the true causes of Prevost’s failure, Americans could
not admit that an expedition which cost the United States so much,
and which so nearly succeeded, was discreditable to the British
governor-general, or was abandoned without sufficient reason. The
British return of killed and wounded proved the correctness of Prevost,
Baynes, and Brown in their opinion of the necessity of retreat.
According to the report of Prevost’s severest critics, he carried less
than seven hundred and fifty rank-and-file to Sackett’s Harbor.[206]
The returns showed forty-four rank-and-file killed; one hundred and
seventy-two wounded, and thirteen missing,--in all, two hundred and
twenty-nine men, or nearly one man in three. The loss in officers was
relatively even more severe; and the total loss in an aggregate which
could hardly have numbered much more than eight hundred and fifty men
all told, amounted to two hundred and fifty-nine killed, wounded, and
missing, leaving Prevost less than six hundred men to escape,[207] in
the face of twice their numbers and under the fire of heavy guns.[208]

The British attack was repulsed, and Jacob Brown received much credit
as well as a commission of brigadier-general in the United States
army for his success; but the injury inflicted by the premature
destruction at the navy-yard was very great, and was sensibly felt.
Such a succession of ill news could not but affect the Government.
The repeated failures to destroy the British force at Niagara; the
disasters of Chandler, Winder, and Boerstler; the narrow and partial
escape of Sackett’s Harbor; the total incapacity of Dearborn caused
by fever and mortification,--all these evils were not the only or the
greatest subjects for complaint. The two commanders, Dearborn and
Chauncey, had set aside the secretary’s plan of campaign, and had
substituted one of their own, on the express ground of their superior
information. While affirming that the garrison at Kingston had been
reinforced to a strength three or four times as great as was humanly
possible, they had asserted that the capture of York would answer their
purpose as well as the capture of Kingston, to “give us the complete
command of the Lake.” They captured York, April 27, but the British
fleet appeared June 6, and took from them the command of the Lake.
These miscalculations or misstatements, and the disasters resulting
from them, warranted the removal of Chauncey as well as Dearborn from
command; but the brunt of dissatisfaction fell on Dearborn alone. Both
Cabinet and Congress agreed in insisting on Dearborn’s retirement,
and the President was obliged to consent. July 6, Secretary Armstrong
wrote,--

    “I have the President’s orders to express to you the decision that
    you retire from the command of District No. 9, and of the troops
    within the same, until your health be re-established and until
    further orders.”




CHAPTER VIII.


ARMSTRONG’S embarrassment was great in getting rid of the generals
whom Madison and Eustis left on his hands. Dearborn was one example of
what he was obliged to endure, but Wilkinson was a worse. According
to Armstrong’s account,[209] New Orleans was not believed to be safe
in Wilkinson’s keeping. The senators from Louisiana, Tennessee, and
Kentucky remonstrated to the President, and the President ordered his
removal. Armstrong and Wilkinson had been companions in arms, and
had served with Gates at Saratoga. For many reasons Armstrong wished
not unnecessarily to mortify Wilkinson, and in conveying to him,
March 10, the abrupt order[210] to proceed with the least possible
delay to the headquarters of Major-General Dearborn at Sackett’s
Harbor, the Secretary of War added, March 12, a friendly letter of
advice:[211]--

    “Why should you remain in your land of cypress when patriotism and
    ambition equally invite to one where grows the laurel? Again, the
    men of the North and East want you; those of the South and West are
    less sensible of your merits and less anxious to have you among
    them. I speak to you with a frankness due to you and to myself, and
    again advise, Come to the North, and come quickly! If our cards be
    well played, we may renew the scene of Saratoga.”

The phrase was curious. Saratoga suggested defeated invasion rather
than conquest; the surrender of a British army in the heart of New York
rather than the capture of Montreal. The request for Wilkinson’s aid
was disheartening. No one knew better than Armstrong the feebleness
of Wilkinson’s true character. “The selection of this unprincipled
imbecile was not the blunder of Secretary Armstrong,” said Winfield
Scott long afterward;[212] but the idea that Wilkinson could be
chief-of-staff to Dearborn,--that one weak man could give strength to
another,--was almost as surprising as the selection of Wilkinson to
chief command would have been. Armstrong did not intend that Wilkinson
should command more than a division under Dearborn;[213] but he must
have foreseen that in the event of Dearborn’s illness or incapacity,
Wilkinson would become by seniority general-in-chief.

[Illustration: _REMARKS_

    Cedars: _A small Village, a place of business, built pretty
    compact, several stone houses: Settlers, Scottish and 9 or 10
    French_.

    River d l’Isle _The course of this River is S. and E. till within 4
    or 5 miles of the St. Lawrence thence it runs almost parallel with
    that river to its mouth at the Coteau. It is about 4 rods wide at
    its mouth and is shoal. One mile above the confluence the distance
    is only ¾ mile between the two rivers: The banks of both are low
    and flat._

    _There is a settlement of 60 French Families or upwards 4 miles
    above Coteau. No road thence to Point Bodet distant 7½ miles._

    _The road is excellent from Pt. Bodet to Raisin R._

    _McPherson keeps Tavern at Pt. Mouille and a Ferry to Pt. Bodet._

    _McGee keeps Tavern at Pt. Bodet and a Ferry down the Lake._

    _There is a Ferry from Coteau to Pt. Bodet._

  MAP OF THE
  RIVER ST. LAWRENCE
  AND ADJACENT COUNTRY
  From Williamsburg to Montreal.
  FROM AN ORIGINAL DRAWING
  IN THE
  WAR DEPARTMENT.

  MILITARY AND TOPOGRAPHICAL ATLAS

  BY JOHN MELISH, 1815.

  STRUTHERS & CO., ENGR’S, N.Y.
]

Wilkinson at New Orleans received Armstrong’s letter of March 10 only
May 19,[214] and started, June 10, for Washington, where he arrived
July 31, having consumed the greater part of the summer in the journey.
On arriving at Washington, he found that Dearborn had been removed,
and that he was himself by seniority in command of the Ninth Military
District.[215] This result of Dearborn’s removal was incalculably
mischievous, for if its effect on Wilkinson’s vanity was unfortunate,
its influence on the army was fatal. Almost every respectable officer
of the old service regarded Wilkinson with antipathy or contempt.

Armstrong’s ill-fortune obliged him also to place in the position
of next importance Wilkinson’s pronounced enemy, Wade Hampton. A
major-general was required to take command on Lake Champlain, and but
one officer of that rank claimed employment or could be employed; and
Wade Hampton was accordingly ordered to Plattsburg.[216] Of all the
major-generals Hampton was probably the best; but his faults were
serious. Proud and sensitive even for a South Carolinian; irritable,
often harsh, sometimes unjust, but the soul of honor,[217] Hampton
was rendered wholly intractable wherever Wilkinson was concerned, by
the long-standing feud which had made the two generals for years the
heads of hostile sections in the army.[218] Hampton loathed Wilkinson.
At the time of his appointment to command on Lake Champlain he had
no reason to expect that Wilkinson would be his superior; but though
willing and even wishing to serve under Dearborn, he accepted only
on the express understanding that his was a distinct and separate
command,[219] and that his orders were to come directly from the War
Department. Only in case of a combined movement uniting different
armies, was he to yield to the rule of seniority. With that agreement
he left Washington, June 15, and assumed command, July 3, on Lake
Champlain.

Nearly a month afterward Wilkinson arrived in Washington, and reported
at the War Department. By that time Armstrong had lost whatever chance
he previously possessed of drawing the army at Niagara back to a
position on the enemy’s line of supply. Three insuperable difficulties
stood in his way,--the season was too late; the army was too weak; and
the generals were incompetent. Armstrong found his generals the chief
immediate obstacle, and struggled perseveringly and good-humoredly to
overcome it. Wilkinson began, on arriving at Washington, by showing
a fancy for continuing the campaign at Niagara.[220] Armstrong was
obliged to give an emphatic order, dated August 8, that Kingston
should be the primary object of the campaign, but he left Wilkinson at
liberty to go there by almost any route, even by way of Montreal.[221]
Disappointed at the outset by finding Wilkinson slow to accept
responsibility or decided views,[222] he was not better pleased when
the new general began his duties in Military District No. 9.

Wilkinson left Washington August 11, and no sooner did he reach Albany
than he hastened to write, August 16, two letters to General Hampton,
assuming that every movement of that general was directly dependent
on Wilkinson’s orders.[223] Considering the relations between the two
men, these letters warranted the inference that Wilkinson intended
to drive Hampton out of his Military District, and if possible from
the service. Hampton instantly leaped to that conclusion, and wrote
to Armstrong, August 23, offering his resignation in case Wilkinson’s
course was authorized by government.[224] Wilkinson also wrote to
the secretary August 30, substantially avowing his object to be what
Hampton supposed:[225]--

    “You have copies of my letters to Major-General Hampton, which I
    know he has received, yet I have no answer. The reflection which
    naturally occurs is that if I am authorized to command he is bound
    to obey; and if he will not respect the obligation, he should be
    turned out of the service.”

Armstrong pacified Hampton by promising once more that all his orders
and reports should pass through the Department. Hampton promised to
serve cordially and vigorously through the campaign, but he believed
himself intended for a sacrifice, and declared his intention of
resigning as soon as the campaign was ended.[226] Wilkinson, after
having at Albany provoked this outburst, started for Sackett’s Harbor,
where he arrived August 20.

At Sackett’s Harbor Wilkinson found several general officers. Morgan
Lewis was there in command, Commodore Chauncey was there with his
fleet. Jacob Brown was also present by virtue of his recent appointment
as brigadier-general. The quartermaster-general, Robert Swartwout, a
brother of Burr’s friend who went to New Orleans, was posted there.
Wilkinson summoned these officers to a council of war August 26, which
deliberated on the different plans of campaign proposed to it, and
unanimously decided in favor of one called by Armstrong “No. 3 of the
plans proposed by the government.”[227] As defined in Wilkinson’s
language[228] the scheme was--

    “To rendezvous the whole of the troops on the Lake in this
    vicinity, and in co-operation with our squadron to make a bold
    feint upon Kingston, slip down the St. Lawrence, lock up the enemy
    in our rear to starve or surrender, or oblige him to follow us
    without artillery, baggage, or provisions, or eventually to lay
    down his arms; to sweep the St. Lawrence of armed craft, and in
    concert with the division under Major-General Hampton to take
    Montreal.”

Orders were given, August 25, for providing river transport for seven
thousand men, forty field-pieces, and twenty heavy guns, to be in
readiness by September 15.[229]

The proposed expedition closely imitated General Amherst’s expedition
against Montreal in 1760, with serious differences of relative
situation. After Wolfe had captured Quebec and hardly twenty-five
hundred French troops remained to defend Montreal, in the month of
July Amherst descended the river from Lake Ontario with more than ten
thousand men, chiefly British veterans, capturing every fortified
position as he went. Wilkinson’s council of war proposed to descend
the river in October or November with seven thousand men, leaving a
hostile fleet and fortresses in their rear, and running past every
fortified position to arrive in the heart of a comparatively well
populated country, held by a force greater than their own, with
Quebec to support it, while Wilkinson would have no certain base of
supplies, reinforcements, or path of escape. Knowledge of Wilkinson’s
favorite Quintus Curtius or of Armstrong’s familiar Jomini was not
required to satisfy any intelligent private, however newly recruited,
that under such circumstances the army would be fortunate to escape
destruction.[230]

Wilkinson next went to Niagara, where he arrived September 4, and where
he found the army in a bad condition, with Boyd still in command,
but restrained by the President’s orders within a strict defensive.
Wilkinson remained nearly a month at Fort George making the necessary
preparations for a movement. He fell ill of fever, but returned October
2 to Sackett’s Harbor, taking with him all the regular troops at
Niagara. At that time Chauncey again controlled the Lake.

Secretary Armstrong also came to Sackett’s Harbor, September 5,
and established the War Department at that remote point for nearly
two months.[231] When Wilkinson arrived, October 2, Armstrong’s
difficulties began. Wilkinson, then fifty-six years old, was broken
by the Lake fever. “He was so much indisposed in mind and body,”
according to Brigadier-General Boyd,[232] “that in any other service
he would have perhaps been superseded in his command.” According to
Wilkinson’s story, he told Secretary Armstrong that he was incapable of
commanding the army, and offered to retire from it; but the secretary
said there was no one to take his place, and he could not be spared.
In private Armstrong was believed to express himself more bluntly,
and Wilkinson was told that the secretary said: “I would feed the
old man with pap sooner than leave him behind.”[233] Wilkinson’s
debility did not prevent him from giving orders, or from becoming
jealous and suspicious of every one, but chiefly of Armstrong.[234]
Whatever was suggested by Armstrong was opposed by Wilkinson. Before
returning to Sackett’s Harbor, October 4, Wilkinson favored an
attack on Kingston.[235] On reaching Sackett’s Harbor, finding that
Armstrong also favored attacking Kingston, Wilkinson argued “against
my own judgment” in favor of passing Kingston and descending upon
Montreal.[236] Ten days afterward Armstrong changed his mind. Yeo had
succeeded in returning to Kingston, bringing reinforcements.

    “He will bring with him about fifteen hundred effectives,” wrote
    Armstrong;[237] “and thanks to the storm and our snail-like
    movements down the Lake, they will be there before we can reach it.
    The manœuvre intended is lost, so far as regards Kingston. What we
    now do against that place must be done by hard blows, at some risk.”

Accordingly, October 19, Armstrong wrote to Wilkinson a letter advising
abandonment of the attack on Kingston, and an effort at “grasping the
safer and the greater object below.”[238]

    “I call it the safer and greater object, because at Montreal you
    find the weaker place and the smaller force to encounter; at
    Montreal you meet a fresh, unexhausted, efficient reinforcement of
    four thousand men; at Montreal you approach your own resources,
    and establish between you and them an easy and an expeditious
    intercourse; at Montreal you occupy a point which must be gained
    in carrying your attacks home to the purposes of the war, and
    which, if seized now, will save one campaign; at Montreal you hold
    a position which completely severs the enemy’s line of operations,
    which shuts up the Ottawa as well as the St. Lawrence against him,
    and which while it restrains all below, withers and perishes all
    above itself.”

As Armstrong veered toward Montreal Wilkinson turned decidedly toward
Kingston, and wrote the same day to the secretary a letter[239] of
remonstrance, closing by a significant remark:--

    “Personal considerations would make me prefer a visit to Montreal
    to the attack of Kingston; but before I abandon this attack, which
    by my instructions I am ordered to make, it is necessary to my
    justification that you should by the authority of the President
    direct the operations of the army under my command particularly
    against Montreal.”

The hint was strong that Wilkinson believed Armstrong to be trying to
evade responsibility, as Armstrong believed Wilkinson to be trying
to shirk it. Both insinuations were probably well-founded; neither
Armstrong nor Wilkinson expected to capture Kingston, and still
less Montreal. Wilkinson plainly said as much at the time. “I speak
conjecturally,” he wrote; “but should we surmount every obstacle in
descending the river we shall advance upon Montreal ignorant of the
force arrayed against us, and in case of misfortune, having no retreat,
the army must surrender at discretion.” Armstrong’s conduct was more
extraordinary than Wilkinson’s, and could not be believed except on his
own evidence. He not only looked for no capture of Montreal, but before
writing his letter of October 19 to Wilkinson, he had given orders for
preparing winter quarters for the army sixty or eighty miles above
Montreal, and did this without informing Wilkinson. In later years he
wrote:[240]--

    “Suspecting early in October, from the lateness of the season,
    the inclemency of the weather, and the continued indisposition of
    the commanding general, that the campaign then in progress would
    terminate as it did,--‘with the disgrace of doing nothing, but
    without any material diminution of physical power,’--the Secretary
    of War, then at Sackett’s Harbor, hastened to direct Major-General
    Hampton to employ a brigade of militia attached to his command, in
    constructing as many huts as would be sufficient to cover an army
    of ten thousand men during the winter.”

The order dated October 16 and addressed to the
quartermaster-general,[241] prescribed the cantonment of ten thousand
men within the limits of Canada, and plainly indicated the secretary’s
expectation that the army could not reach Montreal. In other ways
Armstrong showed the same belief more openly.

All the available troops on or near Lake Ontario were concentrated at
Sackett’s Harbor about the middle of October, and did not exceed seven
thousand effectives, or eight thousand men.[242] “I calculate on six
thousand combatants,” wrote Wilkinson after starting,[243] “exclusive
of Scott and Randolph, neither of whom will, I fear, be up in season.”
The army was divided into four brigades under Generals Boyd, Swartwout,
Jacob Brown, and Covington,--the latter a Maryland man, forty-five
years old, who entered the service in 1809 as lieutenant-colonel
of dragoons. The brigades of Boyd and Covington formed a division
commanded by Major-General Morgan Lewis. The second division was
intended for Major-General Hampton; a reserve under Colonel Macomb, and
a park of artillery under Brigadier-General Moses Porter, completed the
organization.[244]

The men were embarked in bateaux, October 17, at Henderson’s Bay, to
the westward of Sackett’s Harbor. The weather had been excessively
stormy, and continued so. The first resting-point to be reached was
Grenadier Island at the entrance of the St. Lawrence, only sixteen
or eighteen miles from the starting-point; but the bateaux were
dispersed by heavy gales of wind, October 18, 19, and 20, and the last
detachments did not reach Grenadier Island until November 3. “All our
hopes have been nearly blasted,” wrote Wilkinson October 24; but at
length, November 5, the expedition, numbering nearly three hundred
boats, having safely entered the river, began the descent from French
Creek. That day they moved forty miles, and halted about midnight
six miles above Ogdensburg. The next day was consumed in running
the flotilla past Ogdensburg under the fire of the British guns at
Prescott. The boats floated down by night and the troops marched by
land. November 7 the army halted at the White House, about twenty miles
below Ogdensburg. There Wilkinson called a council of war, November 8,
to consider whether the expedition should proceed. Lewis, Boyd, Brown,
and Swartwout voted simply in favor of attacking Montreal. Covington
and Porter were of the opinion “that we proceed from this place under
great danger, ... but ... we know of no other alternative.”[245]

More than any other cause, Armstrong’s conduct warranted Wilkinson
in considering the campaign at an end. If the attack on Montreal was
seriously intended, every motive required Armstrong to join Hampton
at once in advance of Wilkinson’s expedition. No one knew so well as
he the necessity of some authority to interpose between the tempers
and pretensions of these two men in case a joint campaign were to be
attempted, or to enforce co-operation on either side. Good faith toward
Hampton, even more than toward Wilkinson, required that the secretary
who had led them into such a situation should not desert them. Yet
Armstrong, after waiting till Wilkinson was fairly at Grenadier
Island, began to prepare for return to Washington. From the village
of Antwerp, half way between Sackett’s Harbor and Ogdensburg, the
secretary wrote to Wilkinson, October 27, “Should my fever continue I
shall not be able to approach you as I intended.”[246] Three days later
he wrote again from Denmark on the road to Albany,--

    “I rejoice that your difficulties are so far surmounted as to
    enable you to say with assurance when you will pass Prescott. I
    should have met you there; but bad roads, worse weather, and a
    considerable degree of illness admonished me against receding
    farther from a point where my engagements call me about the 1st
    proximo. The resolution of treading back my steps was taken at
    Antwerp.”[247]

From Albany Armstrong wrote, November 12, for the last time, “in the
fulness of my faith that you are in Montreal,”[248] that he had sent
orders to Hampton to effect a junction with the river expedition. Such
letters and orders, whatever Armstrong meant by them, were certain to
impress both Wilkinson and Hampton with a conviction that the secretary
intended to throw upon them the whole responsibility for the failure of
an expedition which he as well as they knew to be hopeless.

Doubtless a vigorous general might still have found means if not to
take Montreal, at least to compel the British to evacuate Upper Canada;
but Wilkinson was naturally a weak man, and during the descent of the
river he was excessively ill, never able to make a great exertion.
Every day his difficulties increased. Hardly had his flotilla begun
its descent, when a number of British gunboats commanded by Captain
Mulcaster, the most energetic officer in the British naval service
on the Lake, slipping through Chauncey’s blockade, appeared in
Wilkinson’s rear, and caused him much annoyance. Eight hundred British
rank-and-file from Kingston and Prescott were with Mulcaster, and at
every narrow pass of the river, musketry and artillery began to open
on Wilkinson from the British bank. Progress became slow. November 7,
Macomb was landed on the north bank with twelve hundred men to clear
away these obstructions.[249] The day and night of November 8 were
consumed at the White House in passing troops across the river. Brown’s
brigade was landed on the north shore to reinforce Macomb. The boats
were delayed to keep pace with Brown’s march on shore, and made but
eleven miles November 9, and the next day, November 10, fell down only
to the Long Saut, a continuous rapid eight miles in length. The enemy
pressed close, and while Brown marched in advance to clear the bank
along the rapid, Boyd was ordered to take all the other troops and
protect the rear.

The flotilla stopped on the night of November 10 near a farm called
Chrystler’s on the British bank; and the next morning, November 11,
at half-past ten o’clock Brown having announced that all was clear
below, Wilkinson was about to order the flotilla to run the rapids when
General Boyd sent word that the enemy in the rear were advancing in
column. Wilkinson was on his boat, unable to leave his bed;[250] Morgan
Lewis was in no better condition; and Boyd was left to fight a battle
as he best could. Boyd never had the confidence of the army; Brown was
said to have threatened to resign rather than serve under him,[251] and
Winfield Scott, who was that day with Macomb and Brown in the advance,
described[252] Boyd as amiable and respectable in a subordinate
position, but “vacillating and imbecile beyond all endurance as a chief
under high responsibilities.”

The opportunity to capture or destroy Mulcaster and his eight hundred
men was brilliant, and warranted Wilkinson in turning back his whole
force to accomplish it. Boyd actually employed three brigades, and
made an obstinate but not united or well-supported attempt to crush
the enemy. Colonel Ripley with the Twenty-first regiment drove in the
British skirmishers, and at half-past two o’clock the battle became
general. At half-past four, after a stubborn engagement, General
Covington was killed; his brigade gave way, and the whole American line
fell back, beaten and almost routed.

This defeat was the least creditable of the disasters suffered by
American arms during the war. No excuse or palliation was ever offered
for it.[253] The American army consisted wholly of regulars, and all
the generals belonged to the regular service. Wilkinson could hardly
have had less than three thousand men with him, after allowing for
his detachments, and was alone to blame if he had not more. Boyd,
according to his own account, had more than twelve hundred men and two
field-pieces under his immediate command on shore.[254] The reserve,
under Colonel Upham of the Eleventh regiment, contained six hundred
rank-and-file,[255] with four field-pieces. Wilkinson’s official report
admitted that eighteen hundred rank-and-file were engaged; Colonel
Walbach, his adjutant-general, admitted two thousand,[256] while
Swartwout thought that twenty-one hundred were in action. The American
force was certainly not less than two thousand, with six field-pieces.

The British force officially reported by Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison
of the Eighty-ninth regiment, who was in command, consisted of eight
hundred rank-and-file, and thirty Indians. The rank-and-file consisted
of three hundred and forty-two men of the Forty-ninth regiment, about
as many more of the Eighty-ninth, and some Canadian troops. They had
three six-pound field-pieces, and were supported on their right flank
by gunboats.[257]

On the American side the battle was ill fought both by the generals
and by the men. Wilkinson and Morgan Lewis, the two major-generals,
who were ill on their boats, never gave an order. Boyd, who
commanded, brought his troops into action by detachments, and the
men, on meeting unexpected resistance, broke and fled. The defeat
was bloody as well as mortifying. Wilkinson reported one hundred and
two killed, and two hundred and thirty-seven wounded, but strangely
reported no missing,[258] although the British occupied the field of
battle, and claimed upward of one hundred prisoners.[259] Morrison
reported twenty-two killed, one hundred and forty-eight wounded, and
twelve missing. The American loss was twice that of the British,
and Wilkinson’s reports were so little to be trusted that the loss
might well have been greater than he represented it. The story had no
redeeming incident.

If three brigades, numbering two thousand men, were beaten at
Chrystler’s farm by eight hundred British and Canadians, the chance
that Wilkinson could capture Montreal, even with ten thousand men, was
small. The conduct of the army showed its want of self-confidence. Late
as it was, in the dusk of the evening Boyd hastened to escape across
the river. “The troops being much exhausted,” reported Wilkinson,[260]
“it was considered most convenient that they should embark, and that
the dragoons with the artillery should proceed by land. The embarkation
took place without the smallest molestation from the enemy, and the
flotilla made a harbor near the head of the Saut on the opposite
shore.” In truth, neither Wilkinson nor his adjutant gave the order
of embarkation,[261] nor was Boyd willing to admit it as his.[262]
Apparently the army by common consent embarked without orders.

Early the next morning, November 12, the flotilla ran the rapids and
rejoined Brown and Macomb near Cornwall, where Wilkinson learned that
General Hampton had taken the responsibility of putting an end to an
undertaking which had not yet entered upon its serious difficulties.

Four months had passed since Hampton took command on Lake Champlain.
When he first reached Burlington, July 3, neither men nor material
were ready, nor was even a naval force present to cover his weakness.
While he was camped at Burlington, a British fleet, with about a
thousand regulars, entered the Lake from the Isle aux Noix and the
Richelieu River, and plundered the American magazines at Plattsburg,
July 31, sweeping the Lake clear of American shipping.[263] Neither
Hampton’s army nor McDonough’s small fleet ventured to offer
resistance. Six weeks afterward, in the middle of September, Hampton
had but about four thousand men, in bad condition and poor discipline.

Wilkinson, though unable to begin his own movement, was earnest that
Hampton should advance on Montreal.[264] Apparently in order to assist
Wilkinson’s plans, Hampton moved his force, September 19, to the Canada
line. Finding that a drought had caused want of water on the direct
road to Montreal, Hampton decided to march his army westward to the
Chateaugay River, forty or fifty miles, and established himself there,
September 26, in a position equally threatening to Montreal and to the
British line of communication up the St. Lawrence. Armstrong approved
the movement,[265] and Hampton remained three weeks at Chateaugay,
building roads and opening lines of communication while waiting for
Wilkinson to move.

October 16 Armstrong ordered Hampton, in view of Wilkinson’s probable
descent of the river, to “approach the mouth of the Chateaugay, or
other point which shall better favor our junction, and hold the enemy
in check.”[266] Hampton instantly obeyed, and moved down the Chateaugay
to a point about fifteen miles from its mouth. There he established
his army, October 22, and employed the next two days in completing his
road, and getting up his artillery and stores.

Hampton’s movements annoyed the British authorities at Montreal. Even
while he was still within American territory, before he advanced from
Chateaugay Four Corners, Sir George Prevost reported, October 8, to his
government,[267]--

    “The position of Major-General Hampton at the Four Corners on the
    Chateaugay River, and which he continued to occupy, either with the
    whole or a part of his force, from the latest information I have
    been able to obtain from thence, is highly judicious,--as at the
    same time that he threatens Montreal and obliges me to concentrate
    a considerable body of troops in this vicinity to protect it, he
    has it in his power to molest the communication with the Upper
    Province, and impede the progress of the supplies required there
    for the Navy and Army.”

If this was the case, October 8, when Hampton was still at Chateaugay,
fifty miles from its mouth, the annoyance must have been much greater
when he advanced, October 21, to Spear’s, within ten miles of the St.
Lawrence on his left, and fifteen from the mouth of the Chateaugay.
Hampton accomplished more than was expected. He held a position equally
well adapted to threaten Montreal, to disturb British communication
with Upper Canada, and to succor Wilkinson.

That Hampton, with only four thousand men, should do more than this,
could not fairly be required. The defences of Montreal were such as
required ten times his force to overcome. The regular troops defending
Montreal were not stationed in the town itself, which was sufficiently
protected by a broad river and rapids. They were chiefly at Chambly,
St. John’s, Isle aux Noix, or other points on the Richelieu River,
guarding the most dangerous line of approach from Lake Champlain; or
they were at Coteau du Lac on the St. Lawrence about twenty miles
northwest of Hampton’s position. According to the general weekly return
of British forces serving in the Montreal District under command
of Major-General Sir R. H. Sheaffe, Sept. 15, 1813, the aggregate
rank-and-file present for duty was five thousand seven hundred and
fifty-two. At Montreal were none but sick, with the general staff.
At Chambly were nearly thirteen hundred effectives; at St. John’s
nearly eight hundred; at Isle aux Noix about nine hundred. Excluding
the garrison at Prescott, and including the force at Coteau du Lac,
Major-General Sheaffe commanded just five thousand effectives.[268]

Besides the enrolled troops, Prevost could muster a considerable number
of sailors and marines for the defence of Montreal; and his resources
in artillery, boats, fortifications, and supplies of all sorts were
ample. In addition to the embodied troops, Prevost could count upon
the militia, a force almost as good as regulars for the defence of
a forest-clad country where axes were as effective as musketry in
stopping an invading army. In Prevost’s letter to Bathurst of October
8, announcing Hampton’s invasion, the governor-general said:--

    “Measures had been in the mean time taken by Major-General Sir
    Roger Sheaffe commanding in this district, to resist the advance
    of the enemy by moving the whole of the troops under his command
    nearer to the frontier line, and by calling out about three
    thousand of the sedentary militia. I thought it necessary to
    increase this latter force to nearly eight thousand by embodying
    the whole of the sedentary militia upon the frontier, this being in
    addition to the six battalions of incorporated militia amounting to
    five thousand men; and it is with peculiar satisfaction I have to
    report to your Lordship that his Majesty’s Canadian subjects have a
    second time answered the call to arms in defence of their country
    with a zeal and alacrity beyond all praise.”

Thus the most moderate estimate of the British force about Montreal
gave at least fifteen thousand rank-and-file under arms.[269] Besides
this large array of men, Prevost was amply protected by natural
defences. If Hampton had reached the St. Lawrence at Caughnawaga, he
would still have been obliged to cross the St. Lawrence, more than
two miles wide, under the fire of British batteries and gunboats.
Hampton had no transports. Prevost had bateaux and vessels of every
description, armed and unarmed, above and below the rapids, besides two
river steamers constantly plying to Quebec.

Hampton’s command consisted of four thousand infantry new to service,
two hundred dragoons, and artillery.[270] With such a force, his chance
of suffering a fatal reverse was much greater than that of his reaching
the St. Lawrence. His position at the Chateaugay was not less perilous
than that of Harrison on the Maumee, and far more so than that which
cost Dearborn so many disasters at Niagara.

The British force in Hampton’s immediate front consisted at first of
only three hundred militia, who could make no resistance, and retired
as Hampton advanced. When Hampton made his movement to Spear’s,
Lieutenant-Colonel de Salaberry in his front commanded about eight
hundred men, and immediately entrenched himself and obstructed the
road with abattis.[271] Hampton felt the necessity of dislodging
Salaberry, who might at any moment be reinforced; and accordingly,
in the night of October 25, sent a strong force to flank Salaberry’s
position, while he should himself attack it in front.

The flanking party failed to find its way, and the attack in front
was not pressed.[272] The American loss did not exceed fifty men.
The British loss was reported as twenty-five. Sir George Prevost and
his officers were greatly pleased by their success;[273] but Prevost
did not attempt to molest Hampton, who fell back by slow marches to
Chateaugay, where he waited to hear from the Government. The British
generals at Montreal showed little energy in thus allowing Hampton to
escape; and the timidity of their attitude before Hampton’s little army
was the best proof of the incompetence alleged against Prevost by many
of his contemporaries.

Hampton’s retreat was due more to the conduct of Armstrong than to the
check at Spear’s or to the movements of Prevost. At the moment when he
moved against Salaberry, October 25, a messenger arrived from Sackett’s
Harbor, bringing instructions from the quartermaster-general for
building huts for ten thousand men for winter quarters. These orders
naturally roused Hampton’s suspicions that no serious movement against
Montreal was intended.

    “The papers sunk my hopes,” he wrote to Armstrong, November 1,[274]
    “and raised serious doubts of receiving that efficacious support
    that had been anticipated. I would have recalled the column,
    but it was in motion, and the darkness of the night rendered it
    impracticable.”

In a separate letter of the same date[275] which Hampton sent to
Armstrong by Colonel King, assuming that the campaign was at an end,
he carried out his declared purpose of resigning. “Events,” he said,
“have had no tendency to change my opinion of the destiny intended for
me, nor my determination to retire from a service where I can neither
feel security nor expect honor. The campaign I consider substantially
at an end.” The implication that Armstrong meant to sacrifice him was
certainly disrespectful, and deserved punishment; but when Colonel
King, bearing these letters, arrived in the neighborhood of Ogdensburg,
he found that Armstrong had already done what Hampton reproached him
for intending to do. He had retired to Albany, “suspecting ... that the
campaign ... would terminate as it did.”

A week afterward, November 8, Hampton received a letter from
Wilkinson, written from Ogdensburg, asking him to forward supplies and
march his troops to some point of junction on the river below St.
Regis.[276] Hampton replied from Chateaugay that he had no supplies
to forward; and as, under such circumstances, his army could not
throw itself on Wilkinson’s scanty means, he should fall back on
Plattsburg, and attempt to act against the enemy on some other road
to be indicated.[277] Wilkinson received the letter on his arrival at
Cornwall, November 12, the day after his defeat at Chrystler’s farm;
and with extraordinary energy moved the whole expedition the next day
to French Mills, six or seven miles up the Salmon River, within the
United States lines, where it went into winter quarters.

Armstrong and Wilkinson made common cause in throwing upon Hampton
the blame of failure. Wilkinson at first ordered Hampton under
arrest, but after reflection decided to throw the responsibility upon
Armstrong.[278] The secretary declined to accept it, but consented
after some delay to accept Hampton’s resignation when renewed in
March, 1814. Wilkinson declared that Hampton’s conduct had blasted his
dawning hopes and the honor of the army.[279] Armstrong sneered at
Wilkinson for seizing the pretext for abandoning his campaign.[280]
Both the generals believed that Armstrong had deliberately led them
into an impossible undertaking, and deserted them, in order to shift
the blame of failure from himself.[281] Hampton behaved with dignity,
and allowed his opinion to be seen only in his contemptuous silence;
nor did Armstrong publicly blame Hampton’s conduct until Hampton was
dead. The only happy result of the campaign was to remove all the older
generals--Wilkinson, Hampton, and Morgan Lewis--from active service.

The bloodless failure of an enterprise which might have ended in
extreme disaster was not the whole cost of Armstrong’s and Wilkinson’s
friendship and quarrels. In November nearly all the regular forces,
both British and American, had been drawn toward the St. Lawrence. Even
Harrison and his troops, who reached Buffalo October 24, were sent to
Sackett’s Harbor, November 16, to protect the navy. Not a regiment of
the United States army was to be seen between Sackett’s Harbor and
Detroit. The village of Niagara and Fort George on the British side
were held by a few hundred volunteers commanded by Brigadier-General
McClure of the New York militia. As long as Wilkinson and Hampton
threatened Montreal, Niagara was safe, and needed no further attention.

After November 13, when Wilkinson and Hampton withdrew from Canada,
while the American army forgot its enemy in the bitterness of its own
personal feuds, the British generals naturally thought of recovering
their lost posts on the Niagara River. McClure, who occupied Fort
George and the small town of Newark under its guns, saw his garrison
constantly diminishing. Volunteers refused to serve longer on any
conditions.[282] The War Department ordered no reinforcements,
although ten or twelve thousand soldiers were lying idle at French
Mills and Plattsburg. December 10 McClure had about sixty men of the
Twenty-fourth infantry, and some forty volunteers, at Fort George,
while the number of United States troops present for duty at Fort
George, Fort Niagara, Niagara village, Black Rock, and Buffalo, to
protect the people and the magazines, amounted to four companies, or
three hundred and twenty-four men.

As early as October 4, Armstrong authorized McClure to warn the
inhabitants of Newark that their town might suffer destruction in case
the defence of Fort George should render such a measure proper.[283]
No other orders were given, but Wilkinson repeatedly advised that Fort
George should be evacuated,[284] and Armstrong did nothing to protect
it, further than to issue a requisition from Albany, November 25, upon
the Governor of New York for one thousand militia.[285]

The British, though not rapid in their movements, were not so slow as
the Americans. Early in December Lieutenant-General Gordon Drummond
came from Kingston to York, and from York to the head of the Lake where
the British had maintained themselves since losing the Niagara posts
in May. Meanwhile General Vincent had sent Colonel Murray with five
hundred men to retake Fort George. McClure at Fort George, December
10, hearing that Murray had approached within ten miles, evacuated the
post and crossed the river to Fort Niagara; but before doing so he
burned the town of Newark and as much as he could of Queenston, turning
the inhabitants, in extreme cold, into the open air. He alleged as
his motive the wish to deprive the enemy of winter quarters;[286] yet
he did not destroy the tents or military barracks,[287] and he acted
without authority, for Armstrong Had authorized him to burn Newark only
in case he meant to defend Fort George.

    “The enemy is much exasperated, and will make a descent on this
    frontier if possible,” wrote McClure from the village of Niagara,
    December 13; “but I shall watch them close with my handful of men
    until a reinforcement of militia and volunteers arrives.... I am
    not a little apprehensive that the enemy will take advantage of
    the exposed condition of Buffalo and our shipping there. My whole
    effective force on this extensive frontier does not exceed two
    hundred and fifty men.”

Five days passed, and still no reinforcements arrived, and no regular
troops were even ordered to start for Niagara. “I apprehended an
attack,” wrote McClure;[288] and he retired thirty miles to Buffalo,
“with a view of providing for the defence.” On the night of December
18 Colonel Murray, with five hundred and fifty regular rank-and-file,
crossed the river from Fort George unperceived; surprised the sentinels
on the glacis and at the gates of Fort Niagara; rushed through the main
gate; and, with a loss of eight men killed and wounded, captured the
fortress with some three hundred and fifty prisoners.

Nothing could be said on the American side in defence or excuse
of this disgrace. From Armstrong at the War Department to Captain
Leonard who commanded the fort, every one concerned in the transaction
deserved whatever punishment the law or army regulations could
inflict. The unfortunate people of Niagara and Buffalo were victims
to official misconduct. The British, thinking themselves released
from ordinary rules of war by the burning of Newark and Queenston,
showed unusual ferocity. In the assault on Fort Niagara they killed
sixty-seven Americans, all by the bayonet, while they wounded only
eleven. Immediately afterward they “let loose”[289] their auxiliary
Indians on Lewiston and the country around. On the night of December
29, Lieutenant-General Drummond sent a force of fifteen hundred men
including Indians[290] across the river above the falls, and driving
away the militia, burned Black Rock and Buffalo with all their public
stores and three small war-schooners.[291]

These acts of retaliation were justified by Sir George Prevost in a
long proclamation[292] dated Jan. 12, 1814, which promised that he
would not “pursue further a system of warfare so revolting to his own
feelings and so little congenial to the British character unless the
future measures of the enemy should compel him again to resort to
it.” The Americans themselves bore Drummond’s excessive severity with
less complaint than usual. They partly suspected that the destruction
effected on the Thames, at York and at Newark, by American troops,
though unauthorized by orders, had warranted some retaliation; but they
felt more strongly that their anger should properly be vented on their
own government and themselves, who had allowed a handful of British
troops to capture a strong fortress and to ravage thirty miles of
frontier, after repeated warning, without losing two hundred men on
either side, while thousands of regular troops were idle elsewhere, and
the neighborhood ought without an effort to have supplied five thousand
militia.

Fort Niagara, which thus fell into British hands, remained, like
Mackinaw, in the enemy’s possession until the peace.




CHAPTER IX.


MILITARY movements in the Southern department attracted little notice,
but were not the less important. The Southern people entered into
the war in the hope of obtaining the Floridas. President Madison,
like President Jefferson, gave all the support in his power to the
scheme. Throughout the year 1812 United States troops still occupied
Amelia Island and the St. Mary’s River, notwithstanding the refusal of
Congress to authorize the occupation. The President expected Congress
at the session of 1812–1813 to approve the seizure of both Floridas,
and took measures in advance for that purpose.

October 12, 1812, Secretary Eustis wrote to the Governor of Tennessee
calling out fifteen hundred militia for the defence of the “lower
country.” The force was not intended for defence but for conquest; it
was to support the seizure of Mobile, Pensacola, and St. Augustine by
the regular troops. For that object every man in Tennessee was ready
to serve; and of all Tennesseeans, Andrew Jackson was the most ardent.
Governor Blount immediately authorized Jackson, as major-general of
the State militia, to call out two thousand volunteers. The call was
issued November 14; the volunteers collected at Nashville December 10;
and Jan. 7, 1813, the infantry embarked in boats to descend the river,
while the mounted men rode through the Indian country to Natchez.

    “I have the pleasure to inform you,” wrote Jackson to Eustis in
    departing,[293] “that I am now at the head of two thousand and
    seventy volunteers, the choicest of our citizens, who go at the
    call of their country to execute the will of the Government; who
    have no Constitutional scruples, and if the Government orders, will
    rejoice at the opportunity of placing the American eagle on the
    ramparts of Mobile, Pensacola, and Fort St. Augustine.”

The Tennessee army reached Natchez, February 15, and went into camp to
wait orders from Washington, which were expected to direct an advance
on Mobile and Pensacola.

While Jackson descended the Mississippi, Monroe, then acting Secretary
of War, wrote, January 13, to Major-General Pinckney,[294] whose
military department included Georgia: “It is intended to place under
your command an adequate force for the reduction of St. Augustine
should it be decided on by Congress, before whom the subject will be
in a few days.” A fortnight later, January 30, Monroe wrote also to
Wilkinson,[295] then commanding at New Orleans: “The subject of taking
possession of West Florida is now before Congress, and will probably
pass. You will be prepared to carry into effect this measure should it
be decided on.”

Neither Madison nor Monroe raised objection to the seizure of territory
belonging to a friendly power; but Congress showed no such readiness
to act. Senator Anderson of Tennessee, as early as Dec. 10, 1812,
moved,[296] in secret session of the Senate, that a committee be
appointed to consider the expediency of authorizing the President
“to occupy and hold the whole or any part of East Florida, including
Amelia Island, and also those parts of West Florida which are not now
in the possession and under the jurisdiction of the United States.”
After much debate the Senate, December 22, adopted the resolution by
eighteen votes to twelve, and the committee, consisting of Anderson,
Samuel Smith, Tait of Georgia, Varnum of Massachusetts, and Goodrich
of Connecticut, reported a bill,[297] January 19, authorizing the
President to occupy both Floridas, and to exercise government there,
“provided ... that the section of country herein designated that is
situated to the eastward of the river Perdido may be the subject of
future negotiation.”

The bill met opposition from the President’s personal enemies, Giles,
Leib, and Samuel Smith, as well as from the Federalists and some of
the Northern Democrats. January 26, Samuel Smith moved to strike
out the second section, which authorized the seizure of Florida east
of the Perdido; and the Senate, February 2, by a vote of nineteen
to sixteen, adopted Smith’s motion. The vote was sectional. North
and South Carolina, Georgia, Tennessee, and Louisiana supported the
bill; Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, and
Rhode Island opposed it; Virginia, Kentucky, Ohio, Massachusetts, New
Hampshire, and Vermont were divided; New Jersey threw one vote in its
favor, the second senator being absent. Had Leib not changed sides the
next day, the whole bill would have been indefinitely postponed; but
the majority rallied, February 5, and by a vote of twenty-one to eleven
authorized the President to seize Florida west of the Perdido, or, in
other words, to occupy Mobile. The House passed the bill in secret
session February 9, and the President signed it February 12.[298]

In refusing to seize East Florida, the Senate greatly disarranged
Madison’s plans. Three days afterward, February 5, Armstrong took
charge of the War Department, and his first orders were sent to Andrew
Jackson directing him to dismiss his force, “the causes of embodying
and marching to New Orleans the corps under your command having ceased
to exist.”[299] Jackson, ignorant that the Administration was not to
blame, and indignant at his curt dismissal, marched his men back to
Tennessee, making himself responsible for their pay and rations. On
learning these circumstances, Armstrong wrote, March 22, a friendly
letter thanking him for the important services his corps would have
rendered “had the Executive policy of occupying the two Floridas been
adopted by the national legislature.”[300]

After the Senate had so persistently refused to support Madison’s
occupation of East Florida, he could hardly maintain longer the illegal
possession he had held during the past year of Amelia Island. February
15, Armstrong wrote to Major-General Pinckney,[301] “The late private
proceedings of Congress have resulted in a decision not to invade
East Florida at present;” but not until March 7, did the secretary
order Pinckney to withdraw the troops from Amelia Island and Spanish
territory.[302]

The troops were accordingly withdrawn from Amelia Island, May 16;
but nothing could restore East Florida to its former repose, and the
anarchy which had been introduced from the United States could never
be mastered except by the power that created it. Perhaps Madison
would have retained possession, as the least of evils, in spite of
the Senate’s vote of February 3, had not another cause, independent
of legislative will, overcome his repugnance to the evacuation. The
Russian offer of mediation arrived while the President was still in
doubt. The occupation of Florida, being an act of war against Spain,
could not fail to excite the anger of England, and in that feeling of
displeasure the Czar must inevitably share. From the moment their cause
against Napoleon was common, Russia, England, and Spain were more than
likely to act together in resistance to any territorial aggression upon
any member of their alliance, the evacuation of East Florida by the
United States evaded a serious diplomatic difficulty; and probably not
by mere coincidence, Armstrong’s order to evacuate Amelia Island was
dated March 7, while Daschkoff’s letter offering the Czar’s mediation
was dated March 8.

The Cabinet was so little united in support of the Executive policy
that Madison and Monroe ordered the seizure of Mobile without
consulting Gallatin, whose persistent hostility to the Florida
intrigues was notorious. When Monroe in April gave to Gallatin and
Bayard the President’s instructions[303] for the peace negotiations,
among the rest he directed them to assert “a right to West Florida
by cession from France, and a claim to East Florida as an indemnity
for spoliations.” On receiving these instructions, Gallatin wrote to
Monroe, May 2, asking,[304]--

    “Where is the importance of taking possession of Mobile this
    summer? We may do this whenever we please, and is it not better to
    delay every operation of minor importance which may have a tendency
    to impede our negotiations with Great Britain and Russia? You know
    that to take by force any place in possession of another nation,
    whatever our claim to that place may be, is war; and you must be
    aware that both Russia and Great Britain will feel disposed, if not
    to support the pretensions of Spain against us, at least to take
    part against the aggressor.”

Monroe quickly replied:[305] “With respect to West Florida, possession
will be taken of it before you get far on your voyage. That is a
question settled.” In fact, possession had been taken of it three weeks
before he wrote, in pursuance of orders sent in February, apparently
without Gallatin’s knowledge. Monroe added views of his own, singularly
opposed to Gallatin’s convictions.

    “On the subject of East Florida,” wrote Monroe to Gallatin, May
    6,[306] “I think I intimated to you in my last that Colonel
    Lear was under the most perfect conviction, on the authority of
    information from respectable sources at Cadiz, that the Spanish
    regency had sold that and the other province to the British
    government, and that it had done so under a belief that we had,
    or should soon get, possession of it. My firm belief is that if
    we were possessed of both, it would facilitate your negotiations
    in favor of impressment and every other object, especially if it
    was distinctly seen by the British ministers or minister that,
    instead of yielding them or any part of either, we would push our
    fortunes in that direction, and in Canada, if they did not hasten
    to accommodate.”

Gallatin, on the eve of sailing for Russia, replied with good temper,
expressing opinions contrary to those of the President and Secretary of
State.

    “On the subject of Florida,” Gallatin said,[307] “I have always
    differed in opinion with you, and am rejoiced to have it in our
    power to announce the evacuation of the province. Let it alone
    until you shall, by the introduction of British troops, have a
    proof of the supposed cession. In this I do not believe. It can be
    nothing more than a permission to occupy it in order to defend it
    for Spain. By withdrawing our troops, we withdraw the pretence;
    but the impolitic occupancy of Mobile will, I fear, renew our
    difficulties. The object is at present of very minor importance,
    swelled into consequence by the representations from that quarter,
    and which I would not at this moment have attempted, among other
    reasons, because it was a Southern one, and will, should it involve
    us in a war with Spain, disgust every man north of Washington. You
    will pardon the freedom with which, on the eve of parting with you,
    I speak on this subject. It is intended as a general caution, which
    I think important, because I know and see every day the extent of
    geographical feeling, and the necessity of prudence if we mean to
    preserve and invigorate the Union.”

No sooner did the Act of February 12 become law than Armstrong wrote,
February 16, to Wilkinson at New Orleans, enclosing a copy of the
Act, and ordering him immediately to take possession of Mobile and the
country as far as the Perdido.[308] Wilkinson, who had for years looked
forward to that step, hastened to obey the instruction. When Gallatin
remonstrated, the measure had been already taken and could not be
recalled.

Since July 9, 1812, Wilkinson had again commanded at New Orleans. No
immediate attack was to be feared, nor could a competent British force
be collected there without warning; but in case such an attack should
be made, Wilkinson had reason to fear the result, for his regular
force consisted of only sixteen hundred effectives, ill equipped
and without defences.[309] The War Department ordered him to depend
on movable ordnance and temporary works rather than on permanent
fortifications;[310] but with his usual disregard of orders he began
the construction or the completion of extensive works at various points
on the river and coast, at a cost which the government could ill afford.

While engaged in this task Wilkinson received, March 14, Armstrong’s
order of February 16 for the invasion of West Florida. When the
government’s orders were agreeable to Wilkinson, they reached him
promptly and were executed with rapidity. Within three weeks he
collected at Pass Christian a force of about six hundred men, supported
by gunboats, and entered the Bay of Mobile on the night of April 10,
while at the same time the garrison at Fort Stoddert descended the
Tensaw River, and cut the communication by land between Mobile and
Pensacola. At that time Mobile Point was undefended. The only Spanish
fortress was Fort Charlotte at Mobile, garrisoned by one hundred and
fifty combatants. Wilkinson summoned the fort to surrender, and the
commandant had no choice but to obey, for the place was untenable and
without supplies. The surrender took place April 15. Wilkinson then
took possession of the country as far as the Perdido, and began the
construction of a fort, to be called Fort Bowyer, on Mobile Point at
the entrance of the Bay, some sixty miles below the town.[311]

This conquest, the only permanent gain of territory made during the
war, being effected without bloodshed, attracted less attention than it
deserved. Wilkinson committed no errors, and won the President’s warm
approval.[312] Wilkinson was greatly pleased by his own success, and
wished to remain at New Orleans to carry out his projected defences;
but Armstrong had written as early as March 10, ordering him to the
Lakes. As so often happened with orders that displeased the general,
Armstrong’s letter, though dated March 10, and doubtless arriving
in New Orleans before April 10, was received by Wilkinson only on
his return, May 19. After another delay of three weeks, he started
northward, and travelled by way of Mobile through the Creek country to
Washington.

Wilkinson’s departure, June 10, and the evacuation of Amelia Island
by General Pinckney May 16, closed the first chapter of the war in
the South. Armstrong wrote to Wilkinson, May 27:[313] “The mission
to Petersburg and the instructions to our envoys will put a barrier
between you and Pensacola for some time to come at least, and
permanently in case of peace.” The sudden stop thus put by the Senate
and the Russian mediation to the campaign against Pensacola and St.
Augustine deranged the plans of Georgia and Tennessee, arrested the
career of Andrew Jackson, and caused the transfer of Wilkinson from New
Orleans to the Lakes. The government expected no other difficulties in
the Southern country, and had no reason to fear them. If new perils
suddenly arose, they were due less to England, Spain, or the United
States than to the chance that gave energy and influence to Tecumthe.

[Illustration:

  MAP OF THE

  Seat of War among the
  Creek Indians.

  _From the Original Drawing_
  IN THE
  WAR DEPARTMENT.

  PUBLISHED BY JOHN MELISH,
  1815.
]

The Southern Indians were more docile and less warlike than the Indians
of the Lakes. The Chickasaws and Choctaws, who occupied the whole
extent of country on the east bank of the Mississippi River from
the Ohio to the Gulf, gave little trouble or anxiety; and even the
great confederacy of Muskogees, or Creeks, who occupied the territory
afterward called the State of Alabama and part of Georgia, fell in some
degree into a mode of life which seemed likely to make them tillers
of the soil. In 1800 the Creeks held, or claimed, about three hundred
miles square from the Tennessee River to the Gulf, and from the middle
of Georgia nearly to the line which afterward marked the State of
Mississippi. The Seminoles, or wild men, of Florida were a branch of
the Muskogees, and the Creek warriors themselves were in the habit of
visiting Pensacola and Mobile, where they expected to receive presents
from the Spanish governor.

Two thirds of the Creek towns were on the Coosa and Tallapoosa rivers
in the heart of Alabama. Their inhabitants were called Upper Creeks.
The Lower Creeks lived in towns on the Chattahooche River, the modern
boundary between Alabama and Georgia. The United States government,
following a different policy in 1799 from that of Jefferson toward
the Northwestern Indians, induced the Creeks to adopt a national
organization for police purposes; it also helped them to introduce
ploughs, to learn cotton-spinning, and to raise crops. The success of
these experiments was not at first great, for the larger number of
Indians saw no advantage in becoming laborers, and preferred sitting
in the squares of the towns, or hunting; but here and there chiefs or
half-breeds had farms, slaves, stock, orchards, and spinning-wheels.

Large as the Creek country was, and wild as it had ever been, it did
not abound in game. A good hunter, passing in any direction through
the three hundred miles of Alabama and Georgia, found difficulty
in obtaining game enough for his support.[314] For that reason the
Seminoles left their old towns and became wild people, as their name
implied, making irregular settlements in Florida, where game and food
were more plenty. The mass of the Creek nation, fixed in the villages
in the interior, clung to their habits of hunting even when obliged to
cultivate the soil, and their semi-civilization rendered them a more
perplexing obstacle to the whites than though they had obstinately
resisted white influence.

Had the Indian problem been left to the people of Georgia and
Tennessee, the Indians would soon have disappeared; but the national
government established under President Washington in 1789 put a sharp
curb on Georgia, and interposed decisively between the Georgians and
the Creeks.[315] President Washington in 1796 appointed Benjamin
Hawkins of North Carolina as Indian agent among the Creeks, and Hawkins
protected and governed them with devotion; but the result of his
friendliness was the same as that of others’ greed. The Indians slowly
lost ground.

The Creeks complained of grievances similar to those of the
Northwestern Indians, and their position was even more helpless.
They had no other outlet than Pensacola and Mobile. Except from the
Spaniards they could expect no aid in case of trouble, and the Spanish
governors of Florida, after the abdication of Carlos IV. in 1807, could
scarcely maintain their own position, much less supply the Creeks with
arms or gunpowder. While the Northwestern Indians could buy at Malden
all the weapons and ammunition they wanted, the Creeks possessed few
firearms, and these in bad condition; nor were they skilful in using
guns.

The United States government prevented the Georgians from compelling
the Indians to sell their lands, but nothing could prevent them from
trespass; and the Indian woods along the frontier were filled with
cattle, horses, and hogs belonging to the whites, while white men
destroyed the game, hunting the deer by firelight, and scaring the
Indian hunters from their hunting-grounds. “Every cane-swamp where they
go to look for a bear--which is part of their support--is near eat out
by the stocks put over by the citizens of Georgia.”[316] This complaint
was made in 1796, and as time went on the Indian hunting-grounds were
more rapidly narrowed. Not only from Georgia but also from Fort
Stoddert, along the course of the Tombigbee River, above Mobile,
intruders pressed into the Creek country. The Indians had no choice but
to sell their lands for annuities, and under this pressure the Creeks,
in 1802 and 1803, were induced to part with the district between the
Oconee and Ocmulgee in the centre of Georgia. They retained their towns
on the Chattahoochee, where Hawkins’s agency was established in the
town of Coweta, on the edge of the Creek country.

Hawkins was satisfied with their behavior, and believed the chiefs
to be well disposed. They showed none of the restlessness which
characterized the Northwestern Indians, until Tecumthe conceived
the idea of bringing them into his general league to check the
encroachments of the whites. After Tecumthe’s interview with Governor
Harrison at Vincennes, in July, 1811, he made a long journey through
the Chickasaw and Choctaw country, and arrived among the Creeks in
October, bringing with him a score of Indian warriors. The annual
council of the Creeks was held in that month at the village of
Tuckaubatchee,--an ancient town of the Upper Creeks on the Tallapoosa.
The rumor that Tecumthe would be present brought great numbers of
Indians, even Cherokees and Choctaws, to the place, while Hawkins
attended the council in his character as agent.

Tecumthe and his warriors marched into the centre of the square and
took their places in silence. That night “they danced the dance of the
Indians of the Lakes,” which became thenceforward a political symbol of
their party among the Creeks. Some nights afterward Tecumthe addressed
the council. Versions more or less untrustworthy have been given of the
speech;[317] but the only official allusion to it by a person entitled
to credit seemed to show that it was in substance the address made by
Tecumthe at Vincennes. Hawkins, recalling to the Creek chiefs in 1814
the course of events which had caused their troubles, reminded them
how “Tecumseh, in the square of Tuckaubatchee, ... told the Creeks
not to do any injury to the Americans; to be in peace and friendship
with them; not to steal even a bell from any one of any color. Let the
white people on this continent manage their affairs their own way. Let
the red people manage their affairs their own way.”[318] Hawkins and
the old chiefs would have certainly interfered had Tecumthe incited
the Creeks to war or violence; but according to Hawkins the speech was
a pacific “talk,” delivered by Tecumthe in the name of the British.
Indian tradition preserved another form of Tecumthe’s rhetoric, which
seemed to complete the identity with the Vincennes address. Unable
to express himself in the Muskogee language, Tecumthe used pantomime
familiar to Indians. Holding his war-club with outstretched arm, he
opened first the little finger, then the next and the next, till the
club fell from his hand.

Indian union was unquestionably the chief theme of all Tecumthe’s
public addresses. Whether in private he taught other doctrines must
be matter of surmise; but he certainly brought into the Creek nation
a religious fanaticism of a peculiar and dangerous kind. Prophets
soon appeared, chiefly among the Alabamas, a remnant of an ancient
race, not of Creek blood, but members of the Creek confederacy.[319]
The prophets, with the usual phenomena of hysteria, claimed powers
of magic, and promised to bring earthquakes to destroy an invading
army. They preached the total destruction of everything, animate and
inanimate, that pertained to civilization. As the nation generally was
badly armed, and relied chiefly on their bows, arrows, and war-clubs
for battle,[320] the moral support of magic was needed to give them
confidence.

So secret was the influence of Tecumthe’s friends that no suspicion of
the excitement reached Hawkins even when the war with England began;
and the old chiefs of the nation--known to be devoted to peace and
to the white alliance--were kept in ignorance of all that was done
among the young warriors. The Alabamas, or Coosadas, lived below the
junction of the Coosa and Tallapoosa, on the west bank of the Alabama
River, about eight miles above the modern town of Montgomery; they
were considered by Hawkins the most industrious and best behaved of
all the Creeks, whose fields were the granaries of the upper towns and
furnished supplies even to Mobile. Their town was the last place in
which Hawkins expected to see conspiracy, violence, or fanaticism. The
young men “sang the song of the Indians of the Lakes, and danced the
dance” in secret for eighteen months after Tecumthe’s visit, without
public alarm, and probably would have continued to do so except for an
outbreak committed by some of their nation three hundred miles away.

In 1812 a band of six Indians led by the Little Warrior of Wewocau, a
Creek town on the Coosa, was sent by the nation on a public mission to
the Chickasaws.[321] Instead of delivering their “talks” and returning,
they continued their journey to the northern Lakes and joined Tecumthe
at Malden. They took part in the massacre at the river Raisin, Jan. 22,
1813, and soon afterward began their return, bringing talks from the
Shawanese and British and also a letter from some British officer at
Malden to the Spanish officials at Pensacola, from whom they hoped to
obtain weapons and powder. According to common report, Tecumthe told
the Little Warrior that he was about to aid the British in capturing
Fort Meigs, and as soon as the fort was taken he would come to join the
Creeks.[322] Until then his friends were to increase their party by the
secret means and magic that had proved so successful, but were not to
begin open war.[323]

The Little Warrior and his party, including a warrior from Tuskegee,
a Creek town at the fork of the Coosa and Tallapoosa, after crossing
Indiana in the month of February reached the north bank of the Ohio
River about seven miles above its mouth, where were two cabins occupied
by white families.[324] Unable to resist the temptation to spill blood,
the band murdered the two families with the usual Indian horrors. This
outrage was committed February 9; and the band, crossing the Ohio,
passed southward through the Chickasaw country, avowing the deed and
its motive.[325]

The Little Warrior arrived at home about the middle of March, and
reported that he brought talks from the Shawanese and British. The
old chiefs of the Upper Creeks immediately held a council March 25,
and after listening to the talks, reprimanded the Little Warrior and
ordered him to leave the Council House.[326] On the same day Hawkins
wrote to them from Coweta, demanding delivery of the Little Warrior
and his six companions to answer for the murders they had committed.
On hearing this demand, the old chiefs at Tuckaubatchee under the lead
of the Big Warrior held another council, while the Little Warrior, the
Tuskegee Warrior, and the murderers took to the woods. The old chiefs
in council decided to execute the murderers, and sent out parties to
do it. The Little Warrior was found in the swamp, well armed, but was
decoyed out and killed by treachery; “the first and second man’s gun
snapped at him, but the third man’s gun fired and killed; ... four men
that had on pouches kept them shaking following after him, so that he
could not hear the gun snap; if he had found out that, he would have
wounded a good many with his arrows.”[327]

The Tuskegee warrior and four others were found in a house on the
Hickory Ground at the fork of the rivers. As long as they had
ammunition, they held the attack at a distance, but at last the house
was fired. The Tuskegee Warrior being wounded, was burned in the house,
while his two young brothers were taken out and tomahawked. One warrior
broke away, but was caught and killed; two more were killed elsewhere.
One escaped, and “set out the morning after to kill white people.”
Warriors were sent after him.

    “He made battle, firing at the warriors, and was near killing
    one; the bullet passed near his ear. He then drew his knife and
    tomahawk, defended himself, and the warriors shot three balls
    through him. He fell, retained the power of speech till next day,
    and died. He said he had been to the Shawanese helping of them, and
    had got fat eating white people’s flesh. Every one to the very last
    called on the Shawanese general, Tecumseh.”[328]

Such political executions, in the stifled excitement of the moment,
could not but rouse violent emotion throughout the Creek nation. The
old chiefs, having given life for life, felt the stronger for their
assertion of authority; but they knew nothing of the true situation.
For several weeks no open outbreak occurred, but the prophets were more
active than ever. About June 4 the old chiefs at Tuckaubatchee, hearing
that the prophets “kept as usual their fooleries,” sent a runner to the
Alabamas with a message:[329]--

    “You are but a few Alabama people. You say that the Great Spirit
    visits you frequently; that he comes in the sun and speaks to you;
    that the sun comes down just above your heads. Now we want to see
    and hear what you say you have seen and heard. Let us have the
    same proof you have had, and we will believe what we see and hear.
    You have nothing to fear; the people who committed murders have
    suffered for their crimes, and there is an end of it.”

The runner who carried this message was one of the warriors who had
aided in killing the seven murderers. The Alabamas instantly put him to
death, and sent his scalp to their friends at the forks of the river.
Then began a general uprising, and every warrior who had aided in
killing the murderers was himself killed or hunted from the Upper Creek
country. The chiefs of Tuckaubatchee with difficulty escaped to the
agency at Coweta, where they were under the protection of Georgia.

The Lower Creek towns did not join the outbreak; but of the Upper
Creek towns twenty-nine declared for war, and only five for peace. At
least two thousand warriors were believed to have taken the war-club
by August 1, and got the name of Red Clubs, or Red Sticks, for that
reason. Everywhere they destroyed farms, stock, and all objects of
white civilization, and killed or drove away their opponents.[330]

With all this the Spaniards had nothing to do. The outbreak was caused
by the Indian War in the Northwest, and immediately by the incompetence
of General Winchester and by the massacre at the river Raisin. The
Creeks were totally unprepared for war, except so far as they trusted
to magic; they had neither guns, powder, nor balls. For that reason
they turned to the Spaniards, who could alone supply them. When the
Little Warrior was put to death, the British letter which he carried
from Malden for the Spanish officials at Pensacola came into the
charge of another Creek warrior, Peter McQueen, a half-breed. In July,
McQueen, with a large party of warriors started for Pensacola, with the
letter and four hundred dollars, to get powder.[331] On arriving there
they saw the Spanish governor, who treated them civilly, and in fear
of violence gave them, according to McQueen’s account,[332] “a small
bag of powder each for ten towns, and five bullets to each man.” With
this supply, which the governor represented as a friendly present for
hunting purposes, they were obliged to content themselves, and started
on their return journey.

News that McQueen’s party was at Pensacola instantly reached the
American settlements above Mobile, where the inhabitants were already
taking refuge in stockades.[333] A large number of Americans, without
military organization, under several leaders, one of whom was a
half-breed named Dixon Bailey, started July 26 to intercept McQueen,
and succeeded in surprising the Indians July 27 at a place called
Burnt Corn, about eighty miles north of Pensacola. The whites at first
routed the Indians, and captured the pack-mules with the ammunition;
but the Indians quickly rallied, and in their turn routed the whites,
with a loss of two killed and fifteen wounded,--although they failed to
recover the greater part of the pack-animals. With the small amount of
powder left to him, McQueen then returned to his people.

Angry at the attack and eager to revenge the death of his warriors,
McQueen summoned the warriors of thirteen towns, some eight hundred
in number, and about August 20 started in search of his enemies.
The Creek war differed from that on the Lakes in being partly a war
of half-breeds. McQueen’s strongest ally was William Weatherford, a
half-breed, well known throughout the country as a man of property and
ability, as nearly civilized as Indian blood permitted, and equally at
home among Indians and whites. McQueen and Weatherford were bitterly
hostile to the half-breeds Bailey and Beasley, who were engaged in
the affair of Burnt Corn.[334] Both Beasley and Bailey were at a
stockade called Fort Mims, some thirty-five miles above Mobile, on
the eastern side of the Alabama River, where about five hundred and
fifty persons were collected,--a motley crowd of whites, half-breeds,
Indians, and negroes, old and young, women and children, protected
only by a picket wall, pierced by five hundred loop-holes three and a
half feet from the ground, and two rude gates.[335] Beasley commanded,
and wrote, August 80, that he could “maintain the post against any
number of Indians.”[336] To Fort Mims the Creek warriors turned, for
the reason that Beasley and Bailey were there, and they arrived in the
neighborhood, August 29, without giving alarm. Twice, negroes tending
cattle outside rushed back to the fort reporting that painted warriors
were hovering about; but the horsemen when sent out discovered no sign
of an enemy, and Beasley tied up and flogged the second negro for
giving a false alarm.

At noon, August 30, when the drum beat for dinner no patrols were out,
the gates were open, and sand had drifted against that on the eastern
side so that it could not quickly be closed. Suddenly a swarm of
Indians raising the warwhoop rushed toward the fort. Beasley had time
to reach the gate, but could not close it, and was tomahawked on the
spot. The Indians got possession of the loop-holes outside, and of one
inclosure. The whites, under Dixon Bailey, held the inner inclosure and
fought with desperation; but at last the Indians succeeded in setting
fire to the house in the centre, and the fire spread to the whole
stockade. The Indians then effected an entrance, and massacred most
of the inmates. Fifteen persons escaped, and among these was Dixon
Bailey mortally wounded. Most of the negroes were spared to be slaves.
Two hundred and fifty scalps became trophies of the Creek warriors,--a
number such as had been seldom taken by Indians from the white people
on a single day.




CHAPTER X.


THE battle at Burnt Corn was regarded by the Indians as a declaration
of war by the whites. Till then they seemed to consider themselves
engaged in a domestic quarrel, or civil war;[337] but after the
massacre at Fort Mims they could not retreat, and yet knew that they
must perish except for supernatural aid. Their destiny was controlled
by that of Tecumthe. Ten days after the massacre at Fort Mims, Perry
won his victory on Lake Erie, which settled the result of the Indian
wars both in the North and in the South. Tecumthe had expected to
capture Fort Meigs, and with it Fort Wayne and the line of the Maumee
and Wabash. On the impulse of this success he probably hoped to raise
the war-spirit among the Chickasaws and Choctaws, and then in person to
call the Creeks into the field. Proctor’s successive defeats blasted
Indian hopes, and the Creeks had hardly struck their first blow in
his support when Tecumthe himself fell, and the Indians of the Lakes
submitted or fled to Canada.

At best, the Creek outbreak would have been hopeless. Although the
number of hostile Creek warriors was matter of conjecture, nothing
showed that they could exceed four thousand. At Pensacola, Peter
McQueen was said to have claimed forty-eight hundred “gun-men” on
his side.[338] At such a moment he probably exaggerated his numbers.
The Big Warrior, who led the peace party, estimated the hostile
Creeks, early in August, as numbering at least twenty-five hundred
warriors.[339] If the number of gun-men was four thousand, the number
of guns in their possession could scarcely be more than one thousand.
Not only had the Creeks few guns, and those in poor condition, but they
had little powder or lead, and no means of repairing their weapons.
Their guns commonly missed fire, and even after discharging them,
the Creeks seldom reloaded, but resorted to the bow-and-arrows which
they always carried. As warriors they felt their inferiority to the
Shawanese and Indians of the Lakes, while their position was more
desperate, for the Choctaws and Cherokees behind them refused to join
in their war.

Four thousand warriors who had never seen a serious war even with
their Indian neighbors, and armed for the most part with clubs, or
bows-and-arrows, were not able to resist long the impact of three or
four armies, each nearly equal to their whole force, coming from every
quarter of the compass. On the other hand, the military difficulties
of conquering the Creeks were not trifling. The same obstacles that
stopped Harrison in Ohio, stopped Pinckney in Georgia. Pinckney,
like Harrison, could set in motion three columns of troops on three
converging lines, but he could not feed them or make roads for them.
The focus of Indian fanaticism was the Hickory Ground at the fork of
the Coosa and Tallapoosa, about one hundred and fifty miles distant
from the nearest point that would furnish supplies for an American army
coming from Georgia, Tennessee, or Mobile. Pinckney’s natural line of
attack was through Georgia to the Lower Creek towns and the American
forts on the Chattahoochee, whence he could move along a good road
about eighty miles to the Upper Creek towns, near the Hickory Ground.
The next convenient line was from Mobile up the Alabama River about one
hundred and fifty miles to the same point. The least convenient was the
pathless, mountainous, and barren region of Upper Alabama and Georgia,
through which an army from Tennessee must toil for at least a hundred
miles in order to reach an enemy.

The State of Georgia was most interested in the Creek war, and was
chiefly to profit by it. Georgia in 1813 had a white population of
about one hundred and twenty-five thousand, and a militia probably
numbering thirty thousand. Military District No. 6, embracing the two
Carolinas and Georgia, was supposed to contain two thousand regular
troops, and was commanded by Major-General Pinckney. Under Pinckney’s
command, a thousand regulars and three thousand militia, advancing from
Georgia by a good road eighty miles into the Indian country, should
have been able to end the Creek war within six months from the massacre
at Fort Mims; but for some reason the attempts on that side were not
so successful as they should have been, and were neither rapid nor
vigorous. Tennessee took the lead.

In respect of white population, the State of Tennessee was more than
double the size of Georgia; but it possessed a greater advantage in
Andrew Jackson, whose extreme energy was equivalent to the addition of
an army. When news of the Mims massacre reached Nashville about the
middle of September, Jackson was confined to his bed by a pistol-shot,
which had broken his arm and nearly cost his life ten days before in
a street brawl with Thomas H. Benton. From his bed he issued an order
calling back into service his two thousand volunteers of 1812; and
as early as October 12, little more than a month after the affair at
Fort Mims, he and his army of twenty-five hundred men were already
camped on the Tennessee River south of Huntsville in Alabama. There was
his necessary base of operations, but one hundred and sixty miles of
wilderness lay between him and the Hickory Ground.

On the Tennessee River Jackson’s position bore some resemblance to
that of Harrison on the Maumee a year before. Energy could not save him
from failure. Indeed, the greater his energy the more serious were his
difficulties. He depended on supplies from east Tennessee descending
the river; but the river was low, and the supplies could not be moved.
He had taken no measures to procure supplies from Nashville. Without
food and forage he could not safely advance, or even remain where he
was. Under such conditions, twenty-five hundred men with half as many
horses could not be kept together. Harrison under the same difficulties
held back his main force near its magazines till it disbanded, without
approaching within a hundred miles of its object. Jackson suffered
nearly the same fate. He sent away his mounted men under General Coffee
to forage on the banks of the Black Warrior River, fifty miles to the
southwest, where no Creeks were to be feared. He forced his infantry
forward through rough country some twenty miles, to a point where
the river made its most southern bend, and there, in the mountainous
defile, he established, October 23, a camp which he called Deposit,
where his supplies were to be brought when the river should permit.

Coffee’s mounted men returned October 24. Then, October 25, in the
hope of finding food as he went, Jackson plunged into the mountains
beyond the river, intending to make a raid, as far as he could, into
the Creek country. Except fatigue and famine, he had nothing to fear.
The larger Creek towns were a hundred miles to the southward, and
were busy with threatened attacks nearer home. After a week’s march
Jackson reached the upper waters of the Coosa. Within a short distance
were two or three small Creek villages. Against one of these Jackson
sent his mounted force, numbering nine hundred men, under General
Coffee. Early in the morning of November 3, Coffee surrounded and
destroyed Talishatchee. His report represented that the Indians made
an obstinate resistance.[340] “Not one of the warriors escaped to tell
the news,--a circumstance unknown heretofore.” According to Coffee’s
estimate, Talishatchee contained two hundred and eighty-four Indians of
both sexes and all ages. If one in three could be reckoned as capable
of bearing arms, the number of warriors was less than one hundred.
Coffee’s men after the battle counted one hundred and eighty-six dead
Indians, and estimated the total loss at two hundred. In every attack
on an Indian village a certain number of women and children were
necessarily victims, but the proportion at Talishatchee seemed large.

    “I lost five men killed, and forty-one wounded,” reported
    Coffee,--“none mortally, the greater part slightly, a number with
    arrows. Two of the men killed was with arrows; this appears to form
    a very principal part of the enemy’s arms for warfare, every man
    having a bow with a bundle of arrows, which is used after the first
    fire with the gun until a leisure time for loading offers.”

Meanwhile Jackson fortified a point on the Coosa, about thirty-five
miles from his base on the Tennessee, and named it Fort Strother.
There he expected to be joined by a division of east Tennessee militia
under General Cocke, approaching from Chattanooga, as he hoped, with
supplies; but while waiting, he received, November 7, a message from
Talladega, a Creek village thirty miles to the southward, reporting
that the town, which had refused to join the war-party, was besieged
and in danger of capture by a large body of hostile warriors. Jackson
instantly started to save Talladega, and marched twenty-four miles
November 8, surrounding and attacking the besieging Creeks the next
morning.

    “The victory was very decisive,” reported Jackson to Governor
    Blount,[341] November 11; “two hundred and ninety of the enemy were
    left dead, and there can be no doubt but many more were killed who
    were not found.... In the engagement we lost fifteen killed, and
    eighty-five wounded.”

Coffee estimated the number of Indians, on their own report,[342] at
about one thousand. Jackson mentioned no wounded Indians, nor the
number of hostile Creeks engaged. Male Indians, except infants, were
invariably killed, and probably not more than five or six hundred were
in the battle, for Coffee thought very few escaped unhurt.

At Talladega Jackson was sixty miles from the Hickory Ground, and
still nearer to several large Indian towns, but he had already passed
the limit of his powers. News arrived that the army of eastern
Tennessee had turned eastward toward the Tallapoosa, and that his
expected supplies were as remote as ever. Returning to Fort Strother
November 10, Jackson waited there in forced inactivity, as Harrison had
waited at Fort Meigs, anxious only to avoid the disgrace of retreat.
For two weeks the army had lived on the Indians. A month more passed
in idle starvation, until after great efforts a supply train was
organized, and difficulties on that account ceased; but at the same
moment the army claimed discharge.

The claim was reasonable. Enlisted Dec. 10, 1812, for one year, the
men were entitled to their discharge Dec. 10, 1813. Had Jackson been
provided with fresh levies he would doubtless have dismissed the old;
but in his actual situation their departure would have left him at Fort
Strother to pass the winter alone. To prevent this, he insisted that
the men had no right to count as service, within the twelve months for
which they had enlisted, the months between May and October when they
were dismissed to their homes. The men, unanimous in their own view
of the contract, started to march home December 10; and Jackson, in a
paroxysm of anger, planted two small pieces of artillery in their path
and threatened to fire on them. The men, with good-temper, yielded for
the moment; and Jackson, quickly recognizing his helplessness, gave
way, and allowed them to depart December 12, with a vehement appeal
for volunteers who made no response.

Fort Strother was then held for a short time by east Tennessee militia,
about fourteen hundred in number, whose term of service was a few weeks
longer than that of the west Tennesseeans. Jackson could do nothing
with them, and remained idle. The Governor of Tennessee advised him to
withdraw to the State frontier; but Jackson, while admitting that his
campaign had failed, declared that he would perish before withdrawing
from the ground he considered himself to have gained.[343] Fortunately
he stood in no danger. The Creeks did not molest him, and he saw no
enemy within fifty miles.

While Jackson was thus brought to a stand-still, Major-General Cocke of
east Tennessee, under greater disadvantages, accomplished only results
annoying to Jackson. Cocke with twenty-five hundred three-months
militia took the field at Knoxville October 12, and moving by way
of Chattanooga reached the Coosa sixty or seventy miles above Camp
Strother. The nearest Creek Indians were the Hillabees, on a branch of
the Tallapoosa about sixty miles from Cocke’s position, and the same
distance from Jackson. The Hillabees, a group of four small villages,
numbered in 1800 one hundred and seventy warriors.[344] Unaware that
the Hillabees were making their submission to Jackson, and were to
receive his promise of protection, Cocke sent a large detachment, which
started November 12 into the Indian country, and surprised one of the
Hillabee villages November 18, massacring sixty-one warriors, and
capturing the other inmates, two hundred and fifty in number, without
losing a drop of blood or meeting any resistance.[345]

Jackson was already displeased with General Cocke’s conduct, and the
Hillabee massacre increased his anger. Cocke had intentionally kept
himself and his army at a distance in order to maintain an independent
command.[346] Not until Jackson’s troops disbanded and marched home,
December 12, did Cocke come to Fort Strother. There his troops remained
a month, guarding Jackson’s camp, until January 12, 1814, when their
three months’ term expired.

While five thousand men under Jackson and Cocke wandered about northern
Alabama, able to reach only small and remote villages, none of which
were actively concerned in the outbreak, the Georgians organized a
force to enter the heart of the Creek country. Brigadier-General
John Floyd commanded the Georgia army, and neither Major-General
Pinckney nor any United States troops belonged to it. Jackson’s battle
of Talladega was fought November 9; Cocke’s expedition against the
Hillabees started November 12, and surprised the Hillabee village
November 18. Floyd entered the hostile country November 24. The
Georgians though nearest were last to move, and moved with the weakest
force. Floyd had but nine hundred and forty militia, and three or four
hundred friendly warriors of the Lower Creek villages.

Floyd had heard that large numbers of hostile Indians were assembled
at Autossee,--a town on the Tallapoosa River near Tuckaubatchee, in
the centre of the Upper Creek country. He crossed the Chattahoochee
November 24 with five days rations, and marched directly against
Autossee, arriving within nine or ten miles without meeting resistance.
At half-past six on the morning of November 29 he formed his troops for
action in front of the town.[347]

The difference between the Northwestern Indians and the Creeks was
shown in the battle of Autossee compared with Tippecanoe. Floyd was
weaker than Harrison, having only militia and Indians, while Harrison
had a regular regiment composing one third of his rank-and-file.
The Creeks were probably more numerous than the Tippecanoe Indians,
although in both cases the numbers were quite unknown. Probably the
Creeks were less well armed, but they occupied a strong position and
stood on the defensive. Floyd reported that by nine o’clock he drove
the Indians from their towns and burned their houses,--supposed to be
four hundred in number. He estimated their loss at two hundred killed.
His own loss was eleven killed and fifty-four wounded. That of Harrison
at Tippecanoe was sixty-one killed or mortally wounded, and one hundred
and twenty-seven not fatally injured. The Creeks hardly inflicted one
fourth the loss caused by the followers of the Shawnee Prophet.

General Floyd,--himself among the severely wounded,--immediately after
the battle ordered the troops to begin their return march to the
Chattahoochee. The Georgia raid into the Indian country was bolder,
less costly, and more effective than the Tennessee campaign; but at
best it was only a raid, like the Indian assault on Fort Mims, and
offered no immediate prospect of regular military occupation. Another
attempt, from a third quarter, had the same unsatisfactory result.

The successor of General Wilkinson at New Orleans and Mobile, and in
Military District No. 7, was Brigadier-General Thomas Flournoy. Under
his direction an expedition was organized from Fort Stoddert, commanded
by Brigadier-General Claiborne of the Mississippi volunteers. Claiborne
was given the Third United States Infantry, with a number of militia,
volunteers, and Choctaw Indians,--in all about a thousand men. He
first marched to a point on the Alabama River, about eighty-five miles
above Fort Stoddert, where he constructed a military post, called Fort
Claiborne. Having established his base there, he marched, December 13,
up the river till he reached, December 23, the Holy Ground, where the
half-breed Weatherford lived. There Claiborne approached within about
fifty miles of the point which Floyd reached a month before, but for
want of co-operation he could not maintain his advantage. He attacked
and captured Weatherford’s town, killing thirty Indians, with a loss of
one man; but after destroying the place he retreated, arriving unharmed
at Fort Claiborne, on the last day of the year.

Thus the year 1813 ended without closing the Creek war. More than seven
thousand men had entered the Indian country from four directions; and
with a loss of thirty or forty lives had killed, according to their
reports, about eight hundred Indians, or one fifth of the hostile Creek
warriors; but this carnage had fallen chiefly on towns and villages
not responsible for the revolt. The true fanatics were little harmed,
and could offer nearly as much resistance as ever. The failure and
excessive expense of the campaign were the more annoying, because they
seemed beyond proportion to the military strength of the fanatics.
Major-General Pinckney wrote to the War Department at the close of the
year:[348]--

    “The force of the hostile Creeks was estimated by the best judges
    to have consisted of three thousand five hundred warriors; of these
    it is apprehended that about one thousand have been put _hors de
    combat_.”

To Andrew Jackson, Pinckney wrote, Jan. 19, 1814,[349]

    “Your letter, dated December 26, did not reach me until the last
    evening. Your preceding dispatches of December 14 had led me to
    conclude what would probably soon be the diminished state of your
    force. I therefore immediately ordered to your support Colonel
    Williams’s regiment of twelve-months men, and wrote to the Governor
    of Tennessee urging him to complete the requisition of fifteen
    hundred for the time authorized by law. I learn from the person who
    brought your letter that Colonel Williams’s regiment is marching
    to join you; if the fifteen hundred of the quota should also be
    furnished by Governor Blount, you will in my opinion have force
    sufficient for the object to be attained. The largest computation
    that I have heard of the hostile Creek warriors, made by any
    competent judge, is four thousand. At least one thousand of them
    have been killed or disabled; they are badly armed and supplied
    with ammunition; little doubt can exist that two thousand of our
    men would be infinitely superior to any number they can collect.”

Jackson at Fort Strother on the departure of the east Tennesseeans,
January 14, received a reinforcement of sixty-day militia, barely
nine hundred in number.[350] Determined to use them to the utmost,
Jackson started three days afterward to co-operate with General Floyd
in an attack on the Tallapoosa villages, aiming at a town called
Emuckfaw, some forty miles north of Tuckaubatchee. The movement was
much more dangerous than any he had yet attempted. His own force
was fresh, motley, and weak, numbering only nine hundred and thirty
militia, including “a company of volunteer officers headed by General
Coffee, who had been abandoned by his men,” and assisted by two or
three hundred friendly Creeks and Cherokees. The sixty-day militia
were insubordinate and unsteady, the march was long, and the Creek
towns at which he aimed were relatively large. Emuckfaw was one
of seven villages belonging to Ocfuskee, the largest town in the
Creek nation,--in 1800 supposed to contain four hundred and fifty
warriors.[351]

As far as Enotachopco Creek, twelve miles from Emuckfaw, Jackson had no
great danger to fear; but beyond that point he marched with caution.
At daylight, January 22, the Indians, who were strongly encamped at
about three miles distance, made an attack on Jackson’s camp, which
was repulsed after half an hour’s fighting. Jackson then sent Coffee
with four hundred men to burn the Indian camp, but Coffee returned
without attempting it. “On viewing the encampment and its strength the
General thought it most prudent to return to my encampment,” reported
Jackson.[352] Immediately after Coffee’s return the Indians again
attacked, and Coffee sallied out to turn their flank, followed by not
more than fifty-four men. The Indians were again repulsed with a loss
of forty-five killed, but Coffee was severely wounded, and Jackson
“determined to commence a return march to Fort Strother the following
day.”

At that moment Jackson’s situation was not unlike that of Harrison
after the battle of Tippecanoe, and he escaped less happily.
Fortifying his camp, he remained during the night of January 22
undisturbed. At half-past ten, January 23, he began his return march,
“and was fortunate enough to reach Enotachopco before night, having
passed without interruption a dangerous defile occasioned by a
hurricane.”[353] Enotachopco Creek was twelve or fifteen miles from
Emuckfaw Creek, and the Hillabee towns were about the same distance
beyond.

At Enotachopco Jackson again fortified his camp. His position was such
as required the utmost caution in remaining or moving. So hazardous was
the passage of the deep creek and the defile beyond, through which the
army had marched in its advance, that Jackson did not venture to return
by the same path, but on the morning of January 24 began cautiously
crossing the creek at a safer point:--

    “The front guard had crossed with part of the flank columns,
    the wounded were over, and the artillery in the act of entering
    the creek, when an alarm-gun was heard in the woods.... To my
    astonishment and mortification, when the word was given by Colonel
    Carrol to halt and form, and a few guns had been fired, I beheld
    the right and left columns of the rear guard precipitately give
    way. This shameful retreat was disastrous in the extreme; it drew
    along with it the greater part of the centre column, leaving not
    more than twenty-five men, who being formed by Colonel Carrol
    maintained their ground as long as it was possible to maintain
    it, and it brought consternation and confusion into the centre of
    the army,--a consternation which was not easily removed, and a
    confusion which could not soon be restored to order.”[354]

The Indians were either weak or ignorant of warfare, for they failed to
take advantage of the panic, and allowed themselves to be driven away
by a handful of men. Jackson’s troops escaped unharmed, or but little
injured, their loss in the engagements of January 22 and 24 being
twenty-four men killed and seventy-one wounded. Probably the Creek
force consisted of the Ocfuskee warriors, and numbered about half that
of Jackson.[355] Coffee supposed them to be eight hundred or a thousand
in number, but the exaggeration in estimating Indian forces was always
greater than in estimating white enemies in battle. An allowance of
one third was commonly needed for exaggeration in reported numbers of
European combatants; an allowance of one half was not unreasonable in
estimates of Indian forces.

In letting Jackson escape from Emuckfaw the Creeks lost their single
opportunity. Jackson never repeated the experiment. He arrived at
Fort Strother in safety January 29, and did not again leave his
intrenchment until the middle of March, under much better conditions.

General Floyd was no more successful. Jackson started from Fort
Strother for Emuckfaw January 17; Floyd left Fort Mitchell, on the
Chattahoochee, January 18, for Tuckaubatchee, only forty miles south
of Emuckfaw.[356] Floyd’s army, like Jackson’s, was partly composed
of militia and partly of Lower Creek warriors, in all about seventeen
hundred men, including four hundred friendly Creeks. From the best
information to be obtained at the time, the effective strength of
the hostile Indians did not then exceed two thousand warriors,[357]
scattered along the Coosa and Tallapoosa rivers; while experience
proved the difficulty of concentrating large bodies of Indians, even
when supplies were furnished them. The British commissariat in Canada
constantly issued from five to ten thousand rations for Indians and
their families, but Proctor never brought more than fifteen hundred
warriors into battle. The Creeks, as far as was known, never numbered a
thousand warriors in any battle during the war. Floyd, with seventeen
hundred men well armed, was able to face the whole Creek nation, and
meant to move forward, fortifying military posts at each day’s march,
until he should establish himself on the Tallapoosa in the centre of
the Creek towns, and wait for a junction with Jackson.

When Jackson was repulsed at Emuckfaw January 22, Floyd was about forty
miles to the southward, expecting to draw the chief attack of the
Indians. Having advanced forty-eight miles from the Chattahoochee he
arrived at a point about seven or eight miles south of Tuckaubatchee,
where he fortified, on Calibee Creek, a camp called Defiance. There,
before daybreak on the morning of January 27, he was sharply attacked,
as Harrison was attacked at Tippecanoe, and with the same result. The
attack was repulsed, but Floyd lost twenty-two killed and one hundred
and forty-seven wounded,--the largest number of casualties that had
yet occurred in the Indian war. The Indians “left thirty-seven dead on
the field; from the effusion of blood and the number of head-dresses
and war-clubs found in various directions, their loss must have been
considerable independent of their wounded.”[358]

The battle of Calibee Creek, January 27, was in substance a defeat
to Floyd. So decided were his militia in their determination to go
home, that he abandoned all his fortified posts and fell back to
the Chattahoochee, where he arrived February 1, four days after the
battle.[359]

Six months had then elapsed since the outbreak of hostilities at Burnt
Corn; a year since the Little Warrior murders on the Ohio River, yet
not a post had been permanently occupied within eighty miles of the
fanatical centre at the fork of the Coosa and Tallapoosa.

Pinckney was obliged to apply to the governors of North and South
Carolina to furnish him with men and equipments. The Governor of
Georgia also exerted himself to supply the deficiencies of the national
magazines.[360] By their aid Pinckney was able to collect an army with
which to make another and a decisive movement into the Creek country:
but before he could act, Jackson succeeded in striking a final blow.

Jackson’s success in overcoming the obstacles in his path was due to
his obstinacy in insisting on maintaining himself at Fort Strother,
which obliged Governor Blount to order out four thousand more militia
in January for six months. Perhaps this force alone would have been
no more effectual in 1814 than in 1813, but another reinforcement was
decisive. The Thirty-ninth regiment of the regular army, authorized
by the Act of January 29, 1813, had been officered and recruited
in Tennessee, and was still in the State. Major-General Pinckney
sent orders, Dec. 23, 1813, to its colonel, John Williams, to join
Jackson.[361] The arrival of the Thirty-ninth regiment February 6,
1814, gave Jackson the means of coping with his militia. February 21
he wrote to his quartermaster, Major Lewis, that he meant to use his
regulars first to discipline his own army.[362] “I am truly happy in
having the Colonel [Williams] with me. His regiment will give strength
to my arm, and quell mutiny.” His patience with militia-men had been
long exhausted, and he meant to make a warning of the next mutineer.

The first victim was no less a person than Major-General Cocke of the
east Tennessee militia. Cocke’s division of two thousand men, mustered
for six months, began January 17 its march from Knoxville to Fort
Strother.[363] Learning on the march that the west Tennessee division,
mustered at the same time for the same service, had been accepted to
serve only three months, Cocke’s men mutinied, and Cocke tried to
pacify them by a friendly speech. Jackson, learning what had passed,
despatched a sharp order to one of Cocke’s brigadiers to arrest and
send under guard to Fort Strother every officer of whatever rank who
should be found exciting the men to mutiny. Cocke was put under arrest
when almost in sight of the enemy’s country; his sword was taken from
him, and he was sent to Nashville for trial.[364] His division came to
Fort Strother, and said no more about its term of service.

Having dealt thus with the officers, Jackson selected at leisure a test
of strength with the men. The conduct of the Fayetteville company of
the Twenty-eighth regiment of west Tennessee light infantry gave him
ground for displeasure. Not only had they refused to obey the call
for six months’ service and insisted on serving for three months or
not at all, but they had halted on their march, and had sent their
commanding officer to bargain with Jackson for his express adhesion
to their terms. Learning that Jackson made difficulties, they marched
home without waiting for an official reply. Jackson ordered the whole
body to be arrested as deserters, accompanying his order by an offer of
pardon to such as returned to duty on their own understanding of the
term of service. The company was again mustered, and arrived at Fort
Strother not long after the arrival of the Thirty-ninth United States
Infantry.

A few weeks later an unfortunate private of the same company, named
Woods, refused to obey the officer of the day, and threatened to shoot
any man who arrested him. Jackson instantly called a court-martial,
tried and sentenced Woods, and March 14 caused him to be shot. The
execution was a harsh measure; but Jackson gave to it a peculiar
character by issuing a general order in which he misstated facts
that made Wood’s case exceptional,[365] in order to let the company
understand that their comrade was suffering the penalty which they all
deserved.

Without giving his army time to brood over this severity, Jackson
ordered a general movement, and within forty-eight hours after Woods’s
execution, all were well on their way toward the enemy. Jackson had
with him about five thousand men, four fifths of whom expected their
discharge in a month. He left them not a day’s repose.

Two lines of advance were open to him in approaching the fork of the
Coosa and Tallapoosa, which was always the objective point. He might
descend the Coosa, or cross to the Tallapoosa by the way he had taken
in January. He descended the Coosa thirty miles, and then struck a
sudden blow at the Tallapoosa towns.

The Ocfuskee Indians, elated by their success in January, collected
their whole force, with that of some neighboring towns, in a bend of
the Tallapoosa, where they built a sort of fortress by constructing
across the neck of the Horse-shoe a breastwork composed of five large
logs, one above the other, with two ranges of port-holes.[366] The
interior was covered with trees and fallen timber along the river side,
and caves were dug in the bank. Seven or eight hundred Indian warriors
together with many women and children were within the enclosure of
eighty or a hundred acres.

Jackson, after leaving a garrison at a new fort which he constructed
on the Coosa, about half way to the Horse-shoe, had somewhat less
than three thousand effectives.[367] With these he camped, on the
evening of March 28, about six miles northwest of the bend, and the
next morning advanced to attack it. “Determined to exterminate them,”
he reported,[368] he detached Coffee with the mounted force of seven
hundred men and six hundred friendly Indians[369] to surround the bend,
along the river bank, while Jackson himself with all his infantry took
position before the breastwork. At half-past ten o’clock he planted his
cannon about two hundred yards[370] from the centre of the work, and
began a rapid fire of artillery and musketry, which continued for two
hours without producing apparent effect. Meanwhile the Cherokee allies
swam the river in the rear of the Creek warriors, who were all at the
breastwork, and seizing canoes, brought some two hundred Indians and
whites into the Horse-shoe, where they climbed the high ground in the
rear of the breastwork and fired on the Creeks, who were occupied in
defending their front.

Jackson then ordered an assault on the breastwork, which was carried,
with considerable loss, by the Thirty-ninth regiment, in the centre.
The Creeks sought shelter in the thickets and under the bluffs, where
they were hunted or burned out, and killed. “The slaughter was greater
than all we had done before,” wrote Coffee; it was continued all day
and the next morning. When the Horse-shoe had been thoroughly cleared,
five hundred and fifty-seven dead bodies were counted within the bend;
many were killed in the river, and about twenty were supposed to have
escaped. According to Coffee, “we killed not less than eight hundred
and fifty or nine hundred of them, and took about five hundred squaws
and children prisoners.” The proportion of squaws and children to the
whole number of Indians showed the probable proportion of warriors
among the dead. “I lament that two or three women and children were
killed by accident,” reported Jackson.[371]

Jackson’s loss was chiefly confined to the Thirty-ninth regiment and
the friendly Indians, who were most actively engaged in the storm.
The Thirty-ninth lost twenty killed and fifty-two wounded. Among the
severely wounded was Ensign Samuel Houston, struck by an arrow in the
thigh. The major and two lieutenants were killed. The Cherokees lost
eighteen killed and thirty-five wounded. The friendly Creeks lost five
killed and eleven wounded. The Tennessee militia, comprising two thirds
of the army, lost only eight killed and fifty-two wounded. The total
loss was fifty-one killed and one hundred and forty-eight wounded.

Jackson’s policy of extermination shocked many humane Americans, and
would perhaps have seemed less repulsive had the Creeks shown more
capacity for resistance. The proportion between two hundred casualties
on one side and seven or eight hundred killed on the other would have
been striking in any case, but was especially so where the advantages
of position were on the side of the defence. A more serious criticism
was that the towns thus exterminated were not the towns chiefly
responsible for the outbreak. The Alabamas and the main body of
fanatical Creeks escaped.

Jackson was obliged to return to his new fort on the Coosa, a march of
five days; and was delayed five days more by preparations to descend
the river. When at length he moved southward, scouring the country as
he went, he could find no more enemies. He effected his junction with
the Georgia troops April 15, and the united armies reached the fork of
the Coosa and Tallapoosa April 18, where Major-General Pinckney joined
them, April 20, and took command;[372] but the Red Sticks had then fled
southward. A few of the hostile leaders, including Weatherford, made
submission, but McQueen and the chief prophets escaped to continue the
war from Florida. The friendly Creeks did not consider the war to be
finished; they reported to Hawkins[373]--

    “They did not believe the hostile Indians were ready for peace,
    although a part of them had suffered so severely in battle against
    our armies. They were proud, haughty, brave, and mad by fanaticism.
    Those of the towns of Tallapoosa below Tuckaubatchee and Alabama
    had suffered the least, although they were the most culpable; and
    it was probable they would mistake our object in offering terms of
    peace to them.”

The number of refugees was never precisely known, but Hawkins reported
that eight of the Tallapoosa towns had migrated in a body to Spanish
territory,[374] and probably a larger proportion of the Coosa and
Alabama towns accompanied them. The Indians themselves gave out that a
few more than a thousand Red Stick warriors survived, who meant to die
fighting. In May the British admiral Cochrane sent Captain Pigot of the
“Orpheus” to the Appalachicola to communicate with the refugee Creek
Indians and supply them with arms. Pigot received ten of the principal
chiefs on board his vessel May 20, and reported[375] on their authority
that “the number of the warriors of the Creek Nation friendly to the
English and ready to take up arms was about twenty-eight hundred,
exclusive of one thousand unarmed warriors who had been driven by the
Americans from their towns into the marshes near Pensacola, and who
were expected to rejoin the main body.” The Creek warriors friendly to
the Americans were estimated at about twelve hundred, and the fugitive
Red Sticks at one thousand. Whatever their number, they included the
most fanatical followers of Tecumthe, and their obstinate outlawry
caused long and costly difficulties to the United States government.

Meanwhile the whites were conquerors and could take as much of the
Creek lands as suited them; but an irregularity of form could not
be avoided. Secretary Armstrong first authorized General Pinckney
to conclude a treaty of peace with the hostile Creeks, containing a
cession of land and other provisions.[376] A few days later Armstrong
saw reason to prefer that the proposed treaty with the Creeks
should take a form altogether military, and be in the nature of a
capitulation.[377] His idea required a treaty with the hostile Creek
chiefs;[378] but the hostile Creeks were not a separate organization
capable of making a treaty or granting lands of the Creek nation; and
besides that difficulty the hostile chiefs had fled, and refused either
to submit or negotiate. No chiefs remained except among the friendly
Creeks, who could not capitulate because they had never been at war.
They had fought in the United States service and were entitled to
reward as allies, not to punishment as enemies.

The solution of this legal problem was entrusted to Andrew Jackson,
whose services in the war earned for him the appointment of
major-general in the regular army, and the command of Military District
No. 7, with headquarters at Mobile. Jackson met the Creek chiefs in
July. The Indians, parties to the negotiation, were friendly chiefs,
deputies, and warriors, representing perhaps one third of the entire
Creek nation. To these allies and friends Jackson presented a paper,
originally intended for the hostile Indians, entitled “Articles of
Agreement and Capitulation,” requiring as indemnity for war expenses
a surrender of two thirds of their territory. They were required to
withdraw from the southern and western half of Alabama, within the
Chattahoochee on the east and the Coosa on the west. The military
object of this policy was to isolate them from the Seminoles and
Spaniards on one side, and from the Choctaws and Chickasaws on
the other. The political object was to surround them with a white
population.

Unanimously the Creeks refused to accept the sacrifice. Jackson told
them in reply that their refusal would show them to be enemies of the
United States; that they might retain their own part of the country,
but that the part which belonged to the hostile Indians would be taken
by the government; and that the chiefs who would not consent to sign
the paper might join the Red Sticks at Pensacola,--although, added
Jackson, he should probably overtake and destroy them before they could
get there. Such arguments could not be answered. A number of the Creeks
at last, after long resistance, signed the capitulation or agreement,
although they continued to protest against it, and refused their aid to
carry it out.

Jackson’s capitulation of Aug. 9, 1814,[379] which, without closing
the Creek war, appropriated to the government the larger part of the
Creek lands, was nearly simultaneous with a treaty[380] signed July 22
by William Henry Harrison and Lewis Cass, at Greenville in Ohio, with
chiefs of the Wyandots, Delawares, Shawanese, Senecas, and Miamis. This
treaty contained no land-cession, but established peace between the
parties, and obliged the Indian signers to declare war on the British.
Neither Harrison’s nor Jackson’s treaty embraced the chief body of
hostile Indians; but Harrison’s treaty served another purpose of no
small value in appearing to remove an obstacle to negotiation with
England.




CHAPTER XI.


BADLY as the United States fared in the campaign of 1813, their
situation would have been easy had they not suffered under the
annoyances of a blockade continually becoming more stringent. The
doctrine that coasts could be blockaded was enforced against America
with an energy that fell little short of demonstration. The summer was
well advanced before the whole naval force to be used for the purpose
could be posted at the proper stations. Not until May 26 did Admiral
Warren issue at Bermuda his proclamation of “a strict and rigorous
blockade of the ports and harbors of New York, Charleston, Port Royal,
Savannah, and of the river Mississippi,” which completed the blockade
of the coast, leaving only the ports of New England open to neutrals.
From that time nothing entered or left the blockaded coast except swift
privateers, or occasional fast-sailing vessels which risked capture
in the attempt. Toward the close of the year Admiral Warren extended
his blockade eastward. Notice of the extension was given at Halifax
November 16, and by the blockading squadron off New London December 2,
thus closing Long Island Sound to all vessels of every description.[381]

The pressure of the blockade was immediately felt. In August[382]
superfine flour sold at Boston for $11.87 a barrel, at Baltimore for
$6.00, and at Richmond for $4.50. Upland cotton sold at Boston for
twenty cents a pound; at Charleston for nine cents. Rice sold at
Philadelphia for $12.00 a hundred weight; in Charleston and Savannah
for $3.00. Sugar sold in Boston for $18.75 a hundred weight; in
Baltimore for $26.50. Already the American staples were unsalable at
the places of their production. No rate of profit could cause cotton,
rice, or wheat to be brought by sea from Charleston or Norfolk to
Boston. Soon speculation began. The price of imported articles rose to
extravagant points. At the end of the year coffee sold for thirty-eight
cents a pound, after selling for twenty-one cents in August. Tea which
could be bought for $1.70 per pound in August, sold for three and four
dollars in December. Sugar which was quoted at nine dollars a hundred
weight in New Orleans, and in August sold for twenty-one or twenty-two
dollars in New York and Philadelphia, stood at forty dollars in
December.

More sweeping in its effects on exports than on imports, the blockade
rapidly reduced the means of the people. After the summer of 1813,
Georgia alone, owing to its contiguity with Florida, succeeded in
continuing to send out cotton. The exports of New York, which exceeded
$12,250,000 in 1811, fell to $209,000 for the year ending in 1814. The
domestic exports of Virginia diminished in four years from $4,800,000
to $3,000,000 for 1812, $1,819,000 for 1813, and $17,581 for the year
ending Sept. 30, 1814. At the close of 1813 exports, except from
Georgia and New England, ceased.[383]

On the revenue the blockade acted with equal effect. Owing to the
increase of duties and to open ports, the New England States rather
increased than diminished their customs receipts. Until the summer of
1813, when the blockade began in earnest, New York showed the same
result; but after that time the receipts fell, until they averaged
less than $50,000 a month instead of $500,000, which would have been
a normal average if peace had been preserved. Philadelphia suffered
sooner. In 1810 the State of Pennsylvania contributed more than
$200,000 a month to the Treasury; in 1813 it contributed about $25,000
a month. Maryland, where was collected in 1812 no less than $1,780,000
of net revenue, paid only $182,000 in 1813, and showed an actual excess
of expenditures in 1814. After the summer, the total net revenue
collected in every port of the United States outside of New England did
not exceed $150,000 a month, or at the rate of $1,800,000 a year.[384]

No ordinary operations of war could affect the United States so
severely as this inexorable blockade. Every citizen felt it in every
action of his life. The farmer grew crops which he could not sell,
while he paid tenfold prices for every necessity. While the country
was bursting with wealth, it was ruined. The blockade was but a part
of the evil. The whole coast was systematically swept of the means of
industry. Especially the Virginians and Marylanders felt the heavy hand
of England as it was felt nowhere else except on the Niagara River. A
large British squadron occupied Chesapeake Bay, and converted it into
a British naval station. After the month of February, 1813, the coasts
of Virginia and Maryland enjoyed not a moment’s repose. Considering the
immense naval power wielded by England, the Americans were fortunate
that their chief losses were confined to the farm-yards and poultry of
a few islands in Chesapeake Bay, but the constant annoyance and terror
were not the less painful to the people who apprehended attack.

Fortunately the British naval officers showed little disposition to
distinguish themselves, and their huge line-of-battle ships were not
adapted to river service. The squadron under the general command of
Admiral Sir John Borlase Warren seemed contented for the most part to
close the bay to commerce. The only officer in the fleet who proved
the energy and capacity to use a part of the great force lying idle at
Lynnhaven Bay was Rear-Admiral Sir George Cockburn, whose efficiency
was attested by the execration in which his name was held for fifty
years in the United States. His duties were not of a nature to make
him popular, and he was an admiral of the old school, whose boisterous
energy seemed to take needless pleasure in the work.

Early in April, 1813, Admiral Warren sent Cockburn with a light
flotilla to the head of Chesapeake Bay to destroy everything that
could serve a warlike purpose, and to interrupt, as far as possible,
communication along the shore.[385] The squadron consisted of only
one light frigate, the “Maidstone,” thirty-six guns; two brigs, the
“Fantome” and “Mohawk;” and three or four prize schooners, with four
or five hundred seamen, marines, and soldiers. With this petty force
Cockburn stationed himself at the mouth of the Susquehanna River,
and soon threw Maryland into paroxysms of alarm and anger. Taking
possession of the islands in his neighborhood, he obtained supplies
of fresh food for the whole British force in Chesapeake Bay. He then
scoured every creek and inlet above his anchorage. He first moved into
the Elk River, and sent his boats, April 28, with one hundred and
fifty marines, to Frenchtown,--a village of a dozen buildings, which
had acquired a certain importance for the traffic between Baltimore
and Philadelphia since the stoppage of transit by sea. Without losing
a man, the expedition drove away the few Americans who made a show
of resistance, and burned whatever property was found, “consisting of
much flour, a large quantity of army clothing, of saddles, bridles, and
other equipments for cavalry, etc., together with various articles of
merchandise,” besides five vessels lying near the place.[386]

Cockburn next sent the same force to destroy a battery lately erected
at Havre de Grace. The attack was made on the morning of May 3, and
like the attack on Frenchtown, met with only resistance enough to
offer an excuse for pillage. The militia took refuge in the woods;
Cockburn’s troops destroyed or carried away the arms and cannon, and
set fire to the town of some sixty houses, “to cause the proprietors
(who had deserted them and formed part of the militia who had fled
to the woods) to understand and feel what they were liable to bring
upon themselves by building batteries and acting toward us with so
much useless rancor.”[387] While engaged in this work Cockburn was
told that an extensive cannon-foundry existed about four miles up the
Susquehanna River; and he immediately started for it in his boats.
He met no resistance, and destroyed the foundry with several small
vessels. His handful of men passed the day undisturbed on the banks of
the Susquehanna, capturing fifty-one cannon, mostly heavy pieces, with
one hundred and thirty stand of small arms. The party then returned to
their ships, “where we arrived at ten o’clock, after being twenty-two
hours in constant exertion, without nourishment of any kind; and I
have much pleasure in being able to add that, excepting Lieutenant
Westphall’s wound, we have not suffered any casualty whatever.”

These expeditions cleared every inlet in the Upper Chesapeake except
the Sassafras River on the eastern shore. During the night of May 5
Cockburn sent his boats into the Sassafras. Militia in considerable
numbers assembled on both banks and opened a fire which Cockburn
described as “most heavy,” aided by one long gun. Cockburn landed,
dispersed the militia, and destroyed Fredericktown and Georgetown, with
the vessels and stores he found there. This expedition cost him five
men wounded, one severely. The next day, May 6, he reported to Admiral
Warren,--

    “I had a deputation from Charleston in the Northeast River to
    assure me that that place is considered by them at your mercy, and
    that neither guns nor militia-men shall be suffered there; and as
    I am assured that all the places in the upper part of Chesapeake
    Bay have adopted similar resolutions, and as there is now neither
    public property, vessels, nor warlike stores remaining in this
    neighborhood, I propose returning to you with the light squadron
    to-morrow morning.”

Thus in the course of a week, and without loss of life on either side,
Cockburn with a few boats and one hundred and fifty men terrorized
the shores of the Upper Chesapeake, and by his loud talk and random
threats threw even Baltimore into a panic, causing every one to suspend
other pursuits in order to garrison the city against an imaginary
attack. The people, harassed by this warfare, remembered with extreme
bitterness the marauding of Cockburn and his sailors; but where he met
no resistance he paid in part for what private property he took, and as
far as was recorded, his predatory excursions cost the Marylanders not
a wound.

For six weeks after Cockburn’s return to Warren’s station at Lynnhaven
Bay, the British fleet remained inactive. Apparently the British
government aimed at no greater object than that of clearing from
Chesapeake Bay every vessel not engaged in British interests under
British protection. The small craft and privateers were quickly
taken or destroyed; but the three chief depots of commerce and
armaments--Norfolk, Baltimore, and Washington--required a greater
effort. Of these three places Norfolk seemed most open to approach, and
Admiral Warren determined to attack it.

The British navy wished nothing more ardently than to capture or
destroy the American frigates. One of these, the “Constellation,” lay
at Norfolk, where it remained blockaded throughout the war. Admiral
Warren could earn no distinction so great as the credit of capturing
this frigate, which not only threatened to annoy British commerce
should she escape to sea, but even when blockaded in port required a
considerable squadron to watch her, and neutralized several times her
force.

Another annoyance drew Warren’s attention to Norfolk. June 20, fifteen
gunboats issued from the harbor before daylight, and under cover of
darkness approached within easy range of a becalmed British frigate,
the “Junon” of forty-six guns. For half an hour, from four o’clock till
half-past four, the gunboats maintained, according to the official
report of Commodore Cassin who commanded them, “a heavy, galling fire
at about three quarters of a mile distance.”[388] Their armament was
not mentioned, but probably they, like the gunboats on the Lakes,
carried in part long thirty-two and twenty-four-pound guns. The attack
was intended to test the offensive value of gunboats, and the result
was not satisfactory. The fire of fifteen heavy guns for half an hour
on a defenceless frigate within easy range should have caused great
injury, but did not. When a breeze rose and enabled the “Junon” and a
neighboring frigate, the “Barrosa,” to get under weigh, the gunboats
were obliged to retire with the loss of one man killed and two wounded.
The “Junon” also had one man killed, but received only one or two shots
in her hull.[389]

The “Constellation” lay, under the guns of two forts and with every
possible precaution, five miles up the Elizabeth River, at the
Portsmouth navy-yard. The utmost pains had been taken to provide
against approach by water. Whatever incompetence or neglect was shown
elsewhere, Norfolk was under the command of able officers in both
services, who neglected no means of defence. General Wade Hampton had
fortified the interior line immediately below the town, where two
strong forts were constructed under the direction of Captain Walker
Keith Armistead of the Engineers, the first graduate of the West
Point Academy in 1803. Five miles below these forts, where the river
widened into Hampton Roads, Brigadier-General Robert Taylor of the
Virginia militia, and Captain John Cassin commanding at the navy-yard,
established a second line of defence, resting on Craney Island on
the left, supported by fifteen or twenty gunboats moored across the
channel. A battery of seven guns was established on the island covering
the approach to the gunboats, so that the capture of the island was
necessary to the approach by water. The force on the island consisted
of about seven hundred men, of whom less than a hundred were State
troops. The rest were infantry of the line, riflemen, seamen, and
marines.[390] The town and forts were strongly garrisoned, and a large
body of State militia was constantly on service.

To deal with the defences of Norfolk, Admiral Warren brought from
Bermuda, according to newspaper account, a detachment of battalion
marines eighteen hundred strong; three hundred men of the One
Hundred-and-second regiment of the line, commanded by Lieut.-Colonel
Charles James Napier, afterward a very distinguished officer; two
hundred and fifty chasseurs, or French prisoners of war who had
entered the British service; and three hundred men of the royal
marine artillery,[391]--in all, two thousand six hundred and fifty
rank-and-file, or about three thousand men all told, besides the
sailors of the fleet. At that time no less than thirteen sail of
British ships, including three ships-of-the-line and five frigates, lay
at anchor within thirteen miles of Craney Island.

The attack was planned for June 22. The land forces were commanded by
Sir Sydney Beckwith, but the general movement was directed by Admiral
Warren.[392] The main attack, led by Major-General Beckwith in person,
was to land and approach Craney Island from the rear, or mainland; the
second division, under command of Captain Pechell of the flag-ship “San
Domingo,” 74, was to approach the island in boats directly under fire
of the American guns on the island, but not exposed to those in the
gunboats.

The plan should have succeeded. The island was held by less than seven
hundred men in an open earthwork easily assaulted from the rear. The
water was so shallow as to offer little protection against energetic
attack. The British force was more than twice the American, and
the plan of attack took from the gunboats the chance of assisting the
land-battery.

[Illustration:

  MAP
  OF THE
  BATTLE
  OF
  CRANEY ISLAND
  FROM MAPS IN
  OFFICE CHIEF OF ENGINEERS
]

At daylight on the morning of June 22 Beckwith, with about eight
hundred men, landed on the main shore outside of Craney Island, and
pushed forward to take the island in the rear. Soon afterward Captain
Pechell, with about seven hundred men in fifteen boats, approached the
island from the northwest along the shore, far out of the reach of the
gunboats. Toward eleven o’clock the British boats came within range of
the American battery on the island. Contrary to the opinions of several
officers, Captain Pechell insisted on making the attack independently
of Beckwith’s approach, and pushed on. Two or three hundred yards from
land the leading boats grounded in shoal water. Apparently the men
might have waded ashore; but “one of the seamen, having plunged his
boat-hook over the side, found three or four feet of slimy mud at the
bottom;”[393] the leading officer’s boat being aground was soon struck
by a six-pound shot, the boat sunk, and himself and his crew, with
those of two other launches, were left in the water. The other boats
took a part of them in, and then quickly retired.

The affair was not improved by the fortunes of Sir Sydney Beckwith,
who advanced to the rear of Craney Island, where he was stopped by
creeks which he reported too deep to ford, and accordingly re-embarked
his troops without further effort; but the true causes of the failure
seemed not to be understood. Napier thought it due to the division
of command between three heads, Warren, Cockburn, and Beckwith;[394]
but incompetence was as obvious as the division of command.
Admiral Warren’s official report seemed to admit that he was also
overmatched:[395]--

    “Upon approaching the island, from the extreme shoalness of the
    water on the seaside and the difficulty of getting across from the
    land, as well as the island itself being fortified with a number of
    guns and men from the frigate [‘Constellation’] and the militia,
    and flanked by fifteen gunboats, I considered, in consequence
    of the representation of the officer commanding the troops of
    the difficulty of their passing over from the land, that the
    persevering in the attempt would cost more men than the number with
    us would permit, as the other forts must have been stormed before
    the frigate and dock-yard could be destroyed. I therefore directed
    the troops to be re-embarked.”

On neither side were the losses serious. The American battery inflicted
less injury than was to be expected. Fifteen British boats containing
at least eight hundred men, all told, remained some two hours under
the fire of two twenty-four-pound and four six-pound guns, at a range
differently estimated from one hundred to three hundred yards, but
certainly beyond musketry fire, for the American troops had to wade
out before firing. Three boats were sunk; three men were killed,
and sixteen were wounded.[396] Sixty-two men were reported missing,
twenty-two of whom came ashore from the boats, while forty deserted
from Beckwith’s land force.[397] The Americans suffered no loss.

To compensate his men for their check at Craney Island, Admiral Warren
immediately afterward devised another movement, which proved, what
the Craney Island affair suggested, that the large British force in
the Chesapeake was either ill constructed or ill led. Opposite Craney
Island, ten miles away on the north shore of James River, stood the
village of Hampton, a place of no importance either military or
commercial. Four or five hundred Virginia militia were camped there,
covering a heavy battery on the water’s edge. The battery and its
defenders invited attack, but Admiral Warren could have no military
object to gain by attacking them. His official report[398] said “that
the enemy having a post at Hampton defended by a considerable corps
commanding the communication between the upper part of the country and
Norfolk, I considered it advisable, and with a view to cut off their
resources, to direct it to be attacked.” Hampton could not fairly be
said to “command” communication with Norfolk, a place which lay beyond
ten miles of water wholly commanded by the British fleet; but Warren
was not obliged to excuse himself for attacking wherever he pleased,
and Hampton served his object best.

At dawn of June 25, Beckwith’s troops were set ashore about two miles
above the village, and moved forward to the road, taking Hampton in
the rear, while Cockburn’s launches made a feint from the front. The
militia, after resistance costing Beckwith a total loss of nearly
fifty men, escaped, and the British troops entered the town, where
they were allowed to do what they pleased with property and persons.
Lieutenant-Colonel Napier of the One Hundred-and-second regiment,
who commanded Beckwith’s advance, wrote in his diary that Sir Sydney
Beckwith “ought to have hanged several villains at Little Hampton; had
he so done, the Americans would not have complained; but every horror
was perpetrated with impunity,--rape, murder, pillage,--and not a man
was punished.” The British officers in general shared Napier’s disgust,
but alleged that the English troops took no part in the outrages, which
were wholly the work of the French chasseurs.

Warren made no attempt to hold the town; the troops returned two days
afterward to their ships, and the Virginia militia resumed their
station; but when the details of the Hampton affair became known, the
story roused natural exasperation throughout the country, and gave in
its turn incitement to more violence in Canada. Admiral Warren and Sir
Sydney Beckwith did not deny the wrong; they dismissed their Frenchmen
from the service, and the United States had no further reason to
complain of that corps; but the double mortification seemed to lower
the British officers even in their own eyes to the level of marauders.

After the failure to destroy the “Constellation,” Admiral Warren
could still indulge a hope of destroying the twenty-eight-gun frigate
“Adams,” and the navy-yard at Washington; for the defence of the
Potomac had been totally neglected, and only one indifferent fort,
about twelve miles below the Federal city, needed to be captured. July
1 the British squadron entered the Potomac; but beyond rousing a panic
at Washington it accomplished nothing, except to gain some knowledge of
the shoals and windings that impeded the ascent of the river. Leaving
the Potomac, Warren turned up Chesapeake Bay toward Annapolis and
Baltimore, but made no attempt on either place. During the rest of the
year he cruised about the bay, meeting little resistance, and keeping
the States of Virginia and Maryland in constant alarm.

Cockburn was more active. In the month of July he was detached with
a squadron carrying Napier’s One Hundred-and-second regiment, and
arrived, July 12, off Ocracoke Inlet, where he captured two fine
privateers,--the “Atlas” and “Anaconda.” Thence he sailed southward,
and established himself for the winter on Cumberland Island, near the
Florida boundary, where he vexed the Georgians. Besides the property
consumed or wasted, he gave refuge to many fugitive slaves, whom he
assisted to the West Indies or Florida. “Strong is my dislike,” wrote
Napier, “to what is perhaps a necessary part of our job: namely,
plundering and ruining the peasantry. We drive all their cattle, and of
course ruin them. _My_ hands are clean; but it is hateful to see the
poor Yankees robbed, and to be the robber.”

Compared with the widespread destruction which war brought on these
regions half a century afterward, the injury inflicted by the British
navy in 1813 was trifling, but it served to annoy the Southern
people, who could offer no resistance, and were harassed by incessant
militia-calls. To some extent the same system of vexation was pursued
on the Northern coast. The Delaware River was blockaded and its
shores much annoyed. New York was also blockaded, and Nantucket with
the adjacent Sounds became a British naval station. There Sir Thomas
Hardy, Nelson’s favorite, officer, commanded, in his flag-ship the
“Ramillies.” Hardy did not encourage marauding such as Cockburn
practised, but his blockade was still stringent, and its efficiency was
proved by the failure of Decatur’s efforts to evade it.

Decatur commanded a squadron composed of the “United States,” its prize
frigate the “Macedonian,” and the sloop-of-war “Hornet,” which lay in
the harbor of New York, waiting for a chance to slip out. Impatient
at the steady watch kept by the British fleet off Sandy Hook, Decatur
brought his three ships through the East River into Long Island Sound.
He reached Montauk Point, May 29, only to find Hardy’s squadron waiting
for him. June 1 he made an attempt to run out, but was chased back,
and took refuge in the harbor of New London. A large British squadron
immediately closed upon the harbor, and Decatur not only lost hope
of getting to sea but became anxious for the safety of his ships. He
withdrew them as far as he could into the river, five miles above the
town, and took every precaution to repel attack. The British officers
were said to have declared that they would get the “Macedonian” back
“even if they followed her into a cornfield.” They did not make the
attempt, but their vigilance never relaxed, and Decatur was obliged to
remain all summer idle in port. He clung to the hope that when winter
approached he might still escape; but in the month of December the
country was scandalized by the publication of an official letter from
Decatur to the Secretary of the Navy, charging the people of New London
with the responsibility for his failure.

    “Some few nights since,” he wrote,[399] Dec. 20, 1813, “the weather
    promised an opportunity for this squadron to get to sea, and it was
    said on shore that we intended to make the attempt. In the course
    of the evening two blue lights were burned on both the points at
    the harbor’s mouth as signals to the enemy; and there is not a
    doubt but that they have, by signals and otherwise, instantaneous
    information of our movements. Great but unsuccessful exertions
    have been made to detect those who communicated with the enemy
    by signal.... Notwithstanding these signals have been repeated,
    and have been seen by twenty persons at least in this squadron,
    there are men in New London who have the hardihood to affect to
    disbelieve it, and the effrontery to avow their disbelief.”

Decatur’s charge roused much ill feeling, and remained a subject of
extreme delicacy with the people of New London. Perhaps Decatur would
have done better not to make such an assertion until he could prove
its truth. That blue lights, as well as other lights, were often seen,
no one denied; but whether they came from British or from American
hands, or were burned on sea or on shore, were points much disputed.
The town of New London was three miles from the river’s mouth, and
Decatur’s squadron then lay at the town. At that distance the precise
position of a light in line with the British fleet might be mistaken.
Decatur’s report, if it proved anything, proved that the signals were
concerted, and were burnt from “both the points at the river’s mouth.”
If the British admiral wanted information, he could have found little
difficulty in obtaining it; but he would hardly have arranged a system
of signals as visible to Decatur as to himself. Even had he done so, he
might have employed men in his own service as well as Americans for the
purpose. Decatur’s letter admitted that he had made great exertions to
detect the culprits, but without success.

The rigor of the British blockade extended no farther north than
the Vineyard and Nantucket. Captain Broke in the “Shannon,” with a
companion frigate, cruised off Boston harbor rather to watch for
ships-of-war than to interfere with neutral commerce. Along the coast
of Maine an illicit trade with the British provinces was so actively
pursued that one of the few American sloops-of-war, the “Enterprise,”
cruised there, holding smugglers, privateers, and petty marauders in
check. On no other portion of the coast would an armed national vessel
have been allowed to show itself, but the “Enterprise,” protected
by the bays and inlets of Maine, and favored by the absence of a
blockade, performed a useful service as a revenue cutter. She was
not a first-rate vessel. Originally a schooner, carrying twelve guns
and sixty men, she had taken part in the war with Tripoli. She was
afterward altered into a brig, and crowded with sixteen guns and a
hundred men. In 1813 she was commanded by Lieutenant William Burrows,
a Pennsylvanian, who entered the navy in 1799, and, like all the naval
heroes, was young,--not yet twenty-eight years old.

On the morning of September 5, as the “Enterprise” was cruising
eastward, Burrows discovered in a bay near Portland a strange brig,
and gave chase. The stranger hoisted three English ensigns, fired
several guns, and stood for the “Enterprise.” Perhaps escape would
have been impossible; but the British captain might, without disgrace,
have declined to fight, for he was no match for the American. The
“Enterprise” measured about ninety-seven feet in length; the “Boxer,”
as the British brig was named, measured about eighty-four. The
“Enterprise” was nearly twenty-four feet in extreme width; the “Boxer”
slightly exceeded twenty-two feet. The “Enterprise” carried fourteen
eighteen-pound carronades and two long-nines; the “Boxer” carried
twelve eighteen-pound carronades and two long-sixes. The “Enterprise”
had a crew of one hundred and two men; the “Boxer” had only sixty-six
men on board. With such odds against him, the British captain might
have entertained some desperate hope of success, but could not have
expected it.

The behavior of Captain Blyth of the “Boxer” showed consciousness of
his position, for he nailed his colors to the mast, and told his men
that they were not to be struck while he lived. The day was calm,
and the two brigs manœuvred for a time before coming together; but
at quarter-past three in the afternoon they exchanged their first
broadside within a stone’s throw of one another. The effect on both
vessels was destructive. Captain Blyth fell dead, struck full in the
body by an eighteen-pound shot. Lieutenant Burrows fell, mortally
wounded, struck by a canister shot. After another broadside, at
half-past three the “Enterprise” ranged ahead, crossed the “Boxer’s”
bow, and fired one or two more broadsides, until the “Boxer” hailed and
surrendered, her colors still nailed to the mast.

Considering the disparity of force, the two brigs suffered nearly
in equal proportion. The “Boxer” lost seven men killed or mortally
wounded; the “Enterprise” lost four. The “Boxer” had thirteen wounded,
not fatally; the “Enterprise” had eight. The “Boxer’s” injuries were
not so severe as to prevent her captors from bringing her as a prize
to Portland; and no incident in this quasi-civil war touched the
sensibilities of the people more deeply than the common funeral of
the two commanders,--both well known and favorites in the service,
buried, with the same honors and mourners, in the graveyard at Portland
overlooking the scene of their battle.

Neither the battle between the “Enterprise” and “Boxer,” nor any
measures that could be taken by sea or land, prevented a constant
traffic between Halifax and the New England ports not blockaded. The
United States government seemed afraid to interfere with it. The
newspapers asserted that hundreds of Americans were actually in Halifax
carrying on a direct trade, and that thousands of barrels of flour were
constantly arriving there from the United States in vessels carrying
the Swedish or other neutral flag. In truth the government could do
little to enforce its non-intercourse, and even that little might prove
mischievous. Nothing could be worse than the spirit of the people on
the frontier. Engaged in a profitable illicit commerce, they could only
be controlled by force, and any force not overwhelming merely provoked
violence or treason. The Navy Department had no vessels to send there,
and could not have prevented their capture if vessels in any number had
been sent. The Secretary of War had abandoned to the State governments
the defence of the coast. When Armstrong allotted garrisons to the
various military districts, he stationed one regiment, numbering three
hundred and fifty-two effectives, besides two hundred and sixty-three
artillerists, in Military District No. 1, which included the whole
coast north of Cape Cod, with the towns of Boston, Marblehead, Salem,
Gloucester, Portsmouth, Portland, and Eastport. Such a provision was
hardly sufficient for garrisoning the fort at Boston. The government
doubtless could spare no more of its small army, but for any military
or revenue purpose might almost as well have maintained in New England
no force whatever.




CHAPTER XII.


DURING the month of April, 1813, four American frigates lay in Boston
Harbor fitting for sea. The “President” and “Congress” returned to
that port Dec. 31, 1812. The “Constitution,” after her battle with the
“Java,” arrived at Boston February 27, 1813. The “Chesapeake” entered
in safety April 9, after an unprofitable cruise of four months. The
presence of these four frigates at Boston offered a chance for great
distinction to the British officer stationed off the port, and one
of the best captains in the service was there to seize it. In order
to tempt the American frigates to come out boldly, only two British
frigates, the “Shannon” and “Tenedos,” remained off the harbor. They
were commanded by Captain P. B. V. Broke of the “Shannon.” Broke
expected Rodgers with his ships, the “President” and “Congress,” to
seize the opportunity for a battle with two ships of no greater force
than the “Shannon” and “Tenedos;” but either Rodgers did not understand
the challenge or did not trust it, or took a different view of his
duties, for he went to sea on the night of April 30, leaving Broke
greatly chagrined and inclined to be somewhat indignant with him for
escaping.[400]

After May 1, Broke on the watch outside, as he ran in toward Nahant,
could see the masts of only the “Constitution” and “Chesapeake” at
the Charlestown navy-yard, and his anxiety became the greater as he
noticed that the “Chesapeake” was apparently ready for sea.[401] May 25
Broke sent away his consort, the “Tenedos,” to cruise from Cape Sable
southward, ostensibly because the two frigates cruising separately
would have a better chance of intercepting the “Chesapeake” than if
they kept together.[402] His stronger reason was to leave a fair field
for the “Chesapeake” and “Shannon,” as he had before kept all force at
a distance except the “Shannon” and “Tenedos” in order to tempt Rodgers
to fight.[403] That there might be no second misunderstanding, he sent
several messages to Captain Lawrence commanding the “Chesapeake,”
inviting a combat.

Nothing showed so clearly that at least one object of the war had been
gained by the Americans as the habit adopted by both navies in 1813 of
challenging ship-duels. War took an unusual character when officers
like Hardy and Broke countenanced such a practice, discussing and
arranging duels between matched ships, on terms which implied that
England admitted half-a-dozen American frigates to be equal in value
to the whole British navy. The loss of a British frigate mattered
little to a government which had more than a hundred such frigates
actually at sea, not to speak of heavier ships; but the loss of the
“Chesapeake” was equivalent to destroying nearly one fourth of the
disposable American navy. Already the “Constellation” was imprisoned at
Norfolk; the “United States” and “Macedonian” were blockaded for the
war; the “Congress” though at sea was unseaworthy and never cruised
again; the “Adams” was shut in the Potomac; the “Essex” was in the
Pacific. The United States Navy consisted, for active service on the
Atlantic, of only the “President,” 44, at sea; the “Constitution,” 44,
replacing her masts at the Charlestown navy-yard; the “Chesapeake,”
38, ready for sea; and a few sloops-of-war. Under such circumstances,
British officers who like Broke considered every American frigate bound
to offer them equal terms in a duel, seemed to admit that the American
service had acquired the credit it claimed.

The first duty of a British officer was to take risks; the first
duty of an American officer was to avoid them, and to fight only at
his own time, on his own terms. Rodgers properly declined to seek a
battle with Broke’s ships. Captain James Lawrence of the “Chesapeake”
was less cautious, for his experience in the war led him to think
worse of the British navy than it deserved. Lawrence commanded the
“Hornet” in Bainbridge’s squadron at the time of the “Java’s” capture.
Bainbridge and Lawrence blockaded the “Bonne Citoyenne,” a twenty-gun
sloop-of-war at San Salvador in Brazil. Lawrence sent a message to
the captain of the “Bonne Citoyenne” inviting him to come out and
meet the “Hornet.” The British captain declined, doubtless for proper
reasons; but the reason he gave seemed to Lawrence insufficient, for
it was merely that Commodore Bainbridge, in spite of his pledged
word, might interfere.[404] Bainbridge sailed about Christmas, and
was absent till January 3, capturing the “Java” in the interval.
January 6 he sailed for Boston, leaving Lawrence in the “Hornet” still
blockading the “Bonne Citoyenne,” which showed no more disposition to
fight the “Hornet” in Bainbridge’s absence than before, although the
British captain’s letter had said that “nothing could give me greater
satisfaction than complying with the wishes of Captain Lawrence” if the
single alleged objection were removed.

The conduct of the “Bonne Citoyenne”--a vessel at least the equal of
the “Hornet”[405]--gave Lawrence a low opinion of the British service,
and his respect was not increased by his next experience. A British
seventy-four arrived at San Salvador, January 24, and obliged the
“Hornet” to abandon the “Bonne Citoyenne.” During the next month the
little vessel cruised northward along the Brazil coast, making a few
prizes, until February 24 off the mouth of Demerara River, at half-past
three o’clock in the afternoon, Captain Lawrence discovered a sail
approaching him. Within the bar at the mouth of the river, seven or
eight miles distant, he saw another vessel at anchor. Both were British
sloops-of-war. The one at anchor was the “Espiègle,” carrying eighteen
thirty-two-pound carronades. The other, approaching on the “Hornet’s”
weather-quarter, was the “Peacock,” carrying eighteen twenty-four-pound
carronades, two long-sixes, and one or two lighter pieces.

The “Peacock,” according to British report,[406] had long been “the
admiration of her numerous visitors,” and was remarkable for the
elegance of her fittings; but in size she was inferior to the “Hornet.”
Lawrence reported his ship to be four feet the longer, but the British
believed the “Hornet” to measure one hundred and twelve feet in length,
while the “Peacock” measured one hundred.[407] Their breadth was the
same. The “Hornet” carried eighteen thirty-two-pounders, while the
British captain, thinking his sloop too light for thirty-twos, had
exchanged them for twenty-fours, and carried only sixteen. The American
crew numbered one hundred and thirty-five men fit for duty; the British
numbered one hundred and twenty-two men and boys.

At ten minutes past five, Lawrence tacked and stood for the brig.
Fifteen minutes afterward the two vessels, sailing in opposite
directions, passed each other and exchanged broadsides within a
stone’s-throw. The British fire, even at point-blank range of forty
or fifty feet, did no harm, while the “Hornet’s” broadside must have
decided the battle; for although both vessels instantly wore, and
Lawrence at thirty-five minutes past five ran his enemy close aboard,
the “Peacock” almost immediately struck at thirty-nine minutes past
five in a sinking condition, and actually went down immediately
afterward, carrying with her nine of the “Peacock’s” wounded and three
of the “Hornet’s” crew.

The ease of this victory was beyond proportion to the odds. The British
captain and four men were killed outright, thirty-three officers
and men were wounded, and the brig was sunk in an action of less
than fifteen minutes; while the “Hornet” lost one man killed and two
wounded, all aloft, and not a shot penetrated her hull. If the facility
of this triumph satisfied Lawrence of his easy superiority in battle,
the conduct of the “Espiègle” convinced him that the British service
was worse than incompetent. Lawrence, expecting every moment to see the
“Espiègle” get under weigh, made great exertions to put his ship in
readiness for a new battle, but to his astonishment the British brig
took no notice of the action.[408] Subsequent investigation showed that
the “Espiègle” knew nothing of the battle until the next day; but
Lawrence, assuming that the British captain must have seen or heard,
or at least ought to have suspected what was happening, conceived that
cowardice was a trait of the British navy.

When Lawrence reached New York he became famous for his victory, and
received at once promotion. The “Hornet,” given to Captain Biddle,
was attached to Decatur’s squadron and blockaded at New London, while
Lawrence received command of the “Chesapeake.” Lawrence was then
thirty-two years old; he was born in New Jersey in 1781, entered
the navy in 1798, and served in the war with Tripoli. He was first
lieutenant on the “Constitution,” and passed to the grade of commander
in 1810, commanding successively the “Vixen,” the “Wasp,” the “Argus,”
and the “Hornet.” His appointment to the “Chesapeake” was an accident,
owing to the ill health of Captain Evans, who commanded her on her
recent cruise. The “Chesapeake’s” reputation for ill luck clung to her
so persistently that neither officers nor men cared greatly to sail in
her, and Lawrence would have preferred to remain in the “Hornet;”[409]
but his instructions were positive, and he took command of the
“Chesapeake” about the middle of May. Most of the officers and crew
were new. The old crew on reaching port, April 9, had been discharged,
and left the ship, dissatisfied with their share of prize-money, and
preferring to try the privateer service. The new crew was unequal in
quality and required training; they neither knew their officers nor
each other.

Lawrence’s opponent, Captain Broke of the “Shannon,” was an officer
whose courage could as little be questioned as his energy or skill.
Among all the commanders in the British service Broke had profited
most by the lessons of the war. More than seven years’ experience of
his ship and crew gave him every advantage of discipline and system.
Nearly every day the officers at the Charlestown navy-yard could
see the “Shannon” outside, practising her guns at floating targets
as she sailed about the bay. Broke’s most anxious wish was to fight
the “Chesapeake,” which he considered to be of the same size with
the “Shannon.”[410] The two frigates were the same length within
a few inches,--between one hundred and fifty, and one hundred and
fifty-one feet. Their breadth was forty feet within a few inches.
The “Chesapeake” carried eighteen thirty-two-pound carronades
on the spar-deck; the “Shannon” carried sixteen. Each carried
twenty-eight long eighteen-pounders on the gun-deck. The “Chesapeake”
carried also two long twelve-pounders and a long eighteen-pounder,
besides a twelve-pound carronade. The “Shannon” carried four long
nine-pounders, a long six-pounder, and three twelve-pound carronades.
The “Chesapeake’s” only decided advantage was in the number of her
crew, which consisted of three hundred and seventy-nine men, while the
“Shannon” carried three hundred and thirty all told.

Broke sent the “Tenedos” away May 25, but Lawrence was not aware of
it, and wrote, May 27, to Captain Biddle of the “Hornet” a letter,
showing that till the last moment he hoped not to sail in the
“Chesapeake:”[411]--

    “In hopes of being relieved by Captain Stewart, I neglected writing
    to you according to promise; but as I have given over all hopes
    of seeing him, and the ‘Chesapeake’ is almost ready, I shall sail
    on Sunday, provided I have a chance of getting out clear of the
    ‘Shannon’ and ‘Tenedos,’ who are on the look-out.”

Sunday, May 30, the ship was ready, though the crew was not as good or
as well disciplined as it should have been, and showed some discontent
owing to difficulties about prize-money. On the morning of June 1
the frigate was lying in President’s Roads, when between eight and
nine o’clock the second lieutenant, George Budd, reported a sail in
sight. Captain Lawrence went up the main rigging, and having made out
the sail to be a large frigate, ordered the crew to be mustered, and
told them he meant to fight. At midday he stood down the harbor and
out to sea. The “Shannon,” outside, stood off under easy sail, and
led the way until five o’clock, when she luffed and waited till the
“Chesapeake” came up. As the wind was westerly, Lawrence had the
choice of position, but he made no attempt to profit by his advantage,
although it might have been decisive. Bringing the “Chesapeake” with
a fresh breeze directly down on the “Shannon’s” quarter, at half-past
five he luffed, at about fifty yards distance, and ranged up abeam on
the “Shannon’s” starboard side.

The “Shannon” opened fire as her guns began to bear, but discharged
only her two sternmost guns when the “Chesapeake” replied. The
two ships ran on about seven minutes, or about the length of time
necessary for two discharges of the first guns fired, when, some of the
“Shannon’s” shot having cut away the “Chesapeake’s” foretopsail tie and
jib-sheet, the ship came up into the wind and was taken aback. Lying
with her larboard quarter toward the “Shannon’s” side, at some forty
or fifty yards distance, she began to drift toward her enemy. None of
the “Chesapeake’s” guns then bore on the “Shannon,” and the American
frigate wholly ceased firing.

From the moment the “Chesapeake” was taken aback she was a beaten ship,
and the crew felt it. She could be saved only by giving her headway,
or by boarding the “Shannon;” but neither expedient was possible. The
effort to make sail forward was tried, and proved futile. The idea
of boarding was also in Lawrence’s mind, but the situation made it
impracticable. As the “Chesapeake” drifted stern-foremost toward the
“Shannon,” every gun in the British broadside swept the American deck
diagonally from stern to stem, clearing the quarter-deck and beating
in the stern-ports, while the musketry from the “Shannon’s” tops killed
the men at the “Chesapeake’s” wheel, and picked off every officer,
sailor, or marine in the after-part of the ship. Boarders could not be
rallied under a fire which obliged them to seek cover. The men on the
spar-deck left their stations, crowding forward or going below.

[Illustration: _Chesapeake_ _Shannon_]

Nevertheless, Lawrence ordered up his boarders,--he could do nothing
else; but the affair hurried with such rapidity to its close that
almost at the same instant the “Chesapeake’s” quarter touched the
“Shannon” amidships. From the moment when the “Chesapeake” was taken
aback until the moment when she fell foul, only four minutes were given
for Lawrence to act. Before these four minutes were at an end, he was
struck and mortally wounded by a musket-ball from the “Shannon.” His
first lieutenant, Ludlow, had already been carried below, wounded. His
second lieutenant, Budd, was stationed below. His third lieutenant,
Cox, improperly assisted Lawrence to reach the gun-deck. Not an officer
remained on the spar-deck, and neither an officer nor a living man was
on the quarter-deck when the “Chesapeake’s” quarter came against the
“Shannon’s” gangway, as though inviting the British captain to take
possession.

As the ships fouled, Broke ran forward and called for boarders. With
about twenty men he stepped on the “Chesapeake’s” quarter-deck, and
was followed by thirty more before the ships parted. The error should
have cost him his life and the lives of all who were with him, for the
Americans might easily have killed every man of the boarding-party in
spite of the fire from the “Shannon.” For several moments Broke was in
the utmost peril, not only from the American crew but from his own. His
first lieutenant, Watt, hastening to haul down the American ensign,
was killed by the discharge of a cannon from the “Shannon;” and when
Broke, leaving the “Chesapeake’s” quarter-deck, went forward to clear
the forecastle, enough of the American crew were there to make a sharp
resistance. Broke himself was obliged to take part in the scuffle.
According to his report, he “received a severe sabre-wound at the first
onset, whilst charging a part of the enemy who had rallied on their
forecastle.” According to another British account he was first knocked
down with the butt-end of a musket, and then was cut by a broadsword.
Of his fifty boarders, not less than thirty-seven were killed or
wounded.[412]

Had the American crew been in a proper state of discipline, the
struggle would have taken an extraordinary character, and the two
ships might have renewed the combat, without officers, and in a more
or less unmanageable condition. Fortunately for Broke, his fifty men
outnumbered the Americans on the spar-deck, while the men below, for
the most part, would not come up. About a score of sailors and marines
were on the forecastle, and about a dozen more rushed up from below,
led by the second lieutenant, George Budd, as soon as he, at his
station on the main-deck, learned what was happening above; but so
rapidly did the whole affair pass, that in two minutes the scuffle was
over, the Americans were killed or thrown down the hatchway, and the
ship was helpless, with its spar-deck in the hands of Broke’s boarders.
The guns ceased firing, and the crew below surrendered after some
musket-shots up and down the hatchways.

The disgrace to the Americans did not consist so much in the loss of a
ship to one of equal force, as in the shame of suffering capture by a
boarding-party of fifty men. As Lawrence lay wounded in the cockpit, he
saw the rush of his men from the spar-deck down the after-ladders, and
cried out repeatedly and loudly, “Don’t give up the ship! blow her up!”
He was said to have added afterward: “I could have stood the wreck if
it had not been for the boarding.”

Doubtless the “Shannon” was the better ship, and deserved to win.
Her crew could under no circumstances have behaved like the crew of
the “Chesapeake.” In discipline she was admittedly superior; but
the question of superiority in other respects was not decided. The
accident that cut the “Chesapeake’s” jib-sheet and brought her into the
wind was the only decisive part of the battle, and was mere ill luck,
such as pursued the “Chesapeake” from the beginning. As far as could be
seen, in the favorite American work of gunnery the “Shannon” showed no
superiority.

On that point the reports agreed. The action began at half-past
five o’clock in the afternoon at close range. In seven minutes the
“Chesapeake” forged ahead, came into the wind and ceased firing, as
none of her guns could be made to bear. Seven minutes allowed time at
the utmost for two discharges of some of her guns. No more guns were
fired from the “Chesapeake” till she drifted close to the “Shannon.”
Then her two sternmost guns, the thirteenth and fourteenth on the
main deck, again bore on the enemy, and were depressed and fired by
Lieutenant Cox while the boarders were fighting on the spar-deck.[413]
Thus the number of discharges from the “Chesapeake’s” guns could be
known within reasonable certainty. She carried in her broadside nine
thirty-two-pounders and fourteen or fifteen eighteen-pounders, besides
one twelve-pounder,--twenty-five guns. Assuming them to have been
all discharged twice, although the forward guns could scarcely have
been discharged more than once, the “Chesapeake” could have fired
only fifty-two shot, including the two eighteen-pounders fired by
Lieutenant Cox at the close.

According to the official report nearly every shot must have taken
effect. The “Shannon” was struck by thirteen thirty-two-pound shot;
the “Chesapeake” fired only eighteen, if she discharged every gun
twice. The “Shannon” was struck by twelve eighteen-pound shot, fourteen
bar-shot, and one hundred and nineteen grape-shot; the “Chesapeake’s”
fifteen eighteen-pounders could hardly have done more in the space of
seven minutes. In truth, every shot that was fired probably took effect.

The casualties showed equal efficiency of fire, and when compared
with other battles were severe. When the “Guerriere” struck to the
“Constitution” in the previous year, she had lost in half an hour of
close action twenty-three killed or mortally wounded and fifty-six more
or less injured. The “Shannon” seems to have lost in eleven minutes,
before boarding, twenty-seven men killed or mortally wounded and
nineteen more or less injured.[414]

The relative efficiency of the “Shannon’s” gunnery was not so
clear, because the “Shannon’s” battery continued to fire after the
“Chesapeake” ceased. As the “Chesapeake” drifted down on the “Shannon”
she was exposed to the broadside of the British frigate, while herself
unable to fire a gun.

    “The shot from the ‘Shannon’s’ aftermost guns now had a fair
    range along the ‘Chesapeake’s’ decks,” said the British
    account,[415] “beating in the stern-ports and sweeping the men
    from their quarters. The shots from the foremost guns at the same
    time entering the ports from the mainmast aft did considerable
    execution.”

Broke’s biographer[416] said that the “Chesapeake” fired but one
broadside, and then coming into the wind drifted down, “exposed while
making this crippled and helpless movement to the ‘Shannon’s’ second
and most deliberate broadside.” The “Chesapeake” was very near, almost
touching the British frigate during the four or five minutes of this
fire, and every shot must have taken effect. Broke ordered the firing
to cease when he boarded, but one gun was afterward discharged, and
killed the British first lieutenant as he was lowering the American
flag on the “Chesapeake’s” quarter-deck.

The “Shannon’s” fire lasted eleven or twelve minutes. She
carried twenty-five guns in broadside.[417] Eight of these were
thirty-two-pound carronades, and the official report showed that the
“Chesapeake” was struck by twenty-five thirty-two-pound shot, showing
that three full broadsides were fired from the “Shannon,” and at least
one gun was discharged four times. The “Shannon’s” broadside also
carried fourteen eighteen-pounders, which threw twenty-nine shot into
the “Chesapeake,” besides much canister and grape. Considering that
at least half the “Shannon’s” shot were fired at so close a range
that they could not fail to take effect, nothing proved that her guns
were better served than those of the “Chesapeake.” The “Shannon,”
according to the British account, fired twice as many shot under twice
as favorable conditions, but the injury she inflicted was not twice
the injury inflicted in return. Setting aside the grape-shot, the
“Chesapeake” struck the “Shannon” thirty-nine times; the “Shannon”
struck the “Chesapeake” fifty-seven times. Including the grape-shot,
which Broke used freely, the “Shannon” probably did better, but even
with a liberal allowance for grape and canister, nothing proved her
superiority at the guns.

The loss in men corresponded with the injury to the ships. The
“Shannon” lost eighty-three killed and wounded; the “Chesapeake” lost
one hundred and forty-six. Thirty-three of the “Shannon’s” men were
killed or died of their wounds; sixty-one of the “Chesapeake’s” number
were killed or mortally wounded.

The injuries suffered by the “Chesapeake” told the same story, for
they were chiefly in the stern, and were inflicted by the “Shannon’s”
second and third broadsides, after the “Chesapeake” ceased firing. The
“Chesapeake’s” bowsprit received no injury, and not a spar of any kind
was shot away. The “Shannon” carried her prize into Halifax with all
its masts standing, and without anxiety for its safety.

The news of Broke’s victory was received in England and by the British
navy with an outburst of pleasure that proved the smart of the
wound inflicted by Hull, Decatur, and Bainbridge. The two official
expressions of Broke’s naval and civil superiors probably reflected the
unexaggerated emotion of the service.

    “At this critical moment,” wrote Admiral Warren[418] by a curious
    coincidence the day before his own somewhat less creditable defeat
    at Craney Island, “you could not have restored to the British naval
    service the pre-eminence it has always preserved, or contradicted
    in a more forcible manner the foul aspersions and calumnies of
    a conceited, boasting enemy, than by the brilliant act you have
    performed.”

A few days later he wrote again:[419]--

    “The relation of such an event restores the history of ancient
    times, and will do more good to the service than it is possible to
    conceive.”

In Parliament, July 8, John Wilson Croker said:[420]

    “The action which he [Broke] fought with the ‘Chesapeake’ was in
    every respect unexampled. It was not--and he knew it was a bold
    assertion which he made--to be surpassed by any engagement which
    graced the naval annals of Great Britain.”

The Government made Broke a baronet, but gave him few other rewards,
and his wound was too serious to permit future hard service. Lawrence
died June 5, before the ships reached Halifax. His first lieutenant,
Ludlow, also died. Their bodies were brought to New York and buried
September 16, with formal services at Trinity Church.

By the Americans the defeat was received at first with incredulity and
boundless anxiety, followed by extreme discouragement. The news came at
a dark moment, when every hope had been disappointed and the outlook
was gloomy beyond all that had been thought possible.

    “I remember,” wrote Richard Rush in later life,--“what American
    does not!--the first rumor of it. I remember the startling
    sensation. I remember at first the universal incredulity. I
    remember how the post-offices were thronged for successive days
    by anxious thousands; how collections of citizens rode out for
    miles on the highway, accosting the mail to catch something by
    anticipation. At last, when the certainty was known, I remember the
    public gloom; funeral orations and badges of mourning bespoke it.
    ‘Don’t give up the ship!’--the dying words of Lawrence--were on
    every tongue.”

Six weeks afterward another American naval captain lost another
American vessel-of-war by reason of the same over-confidence which
caused Lawrence’s mistakes, and in a manner equally discreditable to
the crew. The “Argus” was a small brig, built in 1803, rating sixteen
guns. In the summer of 1813 she was commanded by Captain W. H. Allen,
of Rhode Island, who had been third officer to Barron when he was
attacked in the “Chesapeake” by the “Leopard.” Allen was the officer
who snatched a coal from the galley and discharged the only gun that
was fired that day. On leaving the “Chesapeake,” Allen was promoted to
be first officer in the “United States.” To his exertions in training
the men to the guns, Decatur attributed his superiority in gunnery over
the “Macedonian.” To him fell one of the most distinguished honors
that ever came to the share of an American naval officer,--that of
successfully bringing the “Macedonian” to port. Promoted to the rank
of captain, he was put in command of the “Argus,” and ordered to take
William Henry Crawford to his post as Minister to France.

On that errand the “Argus” sailed, June 18, and after safely landing
Crawford, July 11, at Lorient in Brittany, Captain Allen put to sea
again, three days afterward, and in pursuance of his instructions
cruised off the mouth of the British Channel. During an entire
month he remained between the coast of Brittany and the coast of
Ireland, destroying a score of vessels and creating a panic among the
ship-owners and underwriters of London. Allen performed his task with
as much forbearance as the duty permitted, making no attempt to save
his prizes for the sake of prize-money, and permitting all passengers
to take what they claimed as their own without inspection or restraint.
The English whose property he destroyed spoke of him without personal
ill-feeling.

The anxiety and labor of such a service falling on a brig of three
hundred tons and a crew of a hundred men, and the impunity with which
he defied danger, seemed to make Allen reckless. On the night of August
13 he captured a brig laden with wine from Oporto. Within sight of
the Welsh coast and within easy reach of Milford Haven, he burned his
prize, not before part of his crew got drunk on the wine. The British
brig “Pelican,” then cruising in search of the “Argus,” guided by the
light of the burning prize, at five o’clock on the morning of August
14 came down on the American brig; and Captain Allen, who had often
declared that he would run from no two-masted vessel, waited for his
enemy.

According to British measurements, the “Argus” was ninety-five and
one-half feet long; the “Pelican,” one hundred. The “Argus” was
twenty-seven feet, seven and five-eighths inches in extreme breadth;
the “Pelican” was thirty feet, nine inches. The “Argus” carried
eighteen twenty-four-pound carronades, and two long twelve-pounders;
the “Pelican” carried sixteen thirty-two-pound carronades, four long
six-pounders, and a twelve-pound carronade. The number of the “Argus’s”
crew was disputed. According to British authority, it was one hundred
and twenty-seven,[421] while the “Pelican” carried one hundred and
sixteen men and boys.[422]

At six o’clock in the morning, according to American
reckoning,[423]--at half-past five according to the British
report,--the “Argus” wore, and fired a broadside within grape-distance,
which was returned with cannon and musketry. Within five minutes
Captain Allen was struck by a shot which carried away his left leg,
mortally wounding him; and five minutes afterward the first lieutenant
was wounded on the head by a grape-shot. Although the second lieutenant
fought the brig well, the guns were surprisingly inefficient. During
the first fifteen minutes the “Argus” had the advantage of position,
and at eighteen minutes after six raked the “Pelican” at close range,
but inflicted no great injury on the enemy’s hull or rigging, and
killed at the utmost but one man, wounding only five. According to an
English account,[424] “the ‘Argus’ fought well while the cannonading
continued, but her guns were not levelled with precision, and many
shots passed through the ‘Pelican’s’ royals.” The “Pelican,” at the
end of twenty-five minutes, succeeded in cutting up her opponent’s
rigging so that the “Argus” lay helpless under her guns. The “Pelican”
then took a position on her enemy’s starboard quarter, and raked her
with eight thirty-two-pound carronades for nearly twenty minutes at
close range, without receiving a shot in return except from musketry.
According to the report of the British captain, the action “was kept
up with great spirit on both sides forty-three minutes, when we lay
her alongside, and were in the act of boarding when she struck her
colors.”[425]

The “Argus” repeated the story of the “Chesapeake,” except that the
action lasted three quarters of an hour instead of fifteen minutes.
During that time, the “Pelican” should have fired all her broadside
eight or ten times into the “Argus” at a range so close that no shot
should have missed. Sixty thirty-two-pound shot fired into a small brig
less than one hundred feet long should have shivered it to atoms. Nine
thirty-two-pound shot from the “Hornet” seemed to reduce the “Peacock”
to a sinking condition in fifteen minutes; yet the “Argus” was neither
sunk nor dismasted. The British account of her condition after the
battle showed no more injury than was suffered by the “Peacock,” even
in killed and wounded, by one or at the utmost two broadsides of the
“Hornet.”

    “The ‘Argus’ was tolerably cut up in her hull. Both her lower masts
    were wounded, although not badly, and her fore-shrouds on one side
    nearly all destroyed; but like the ‘Chesapeake,’ the ‘Argus’ had no
    spar shot away. Of her carronades several were disabled. She lost
    in the action six seamen killed; her commander, two midshipmen,
    the carpenter, and three seamen mortally, her first lieutenant and
    five seamen severely, and eight others slightly wounded,--total
    twenty-four; chiefly, if not wholly by the cannon-shot of the
    ‘Pelican.’”[426]

The “Pelican” lost seven men killed or wounded, chiefly by musketry. On
both sides the battle showed little skill with the guns; but perhaps
the “Pelican,” considering her undisputed superiority during half the
combat, showed even less than the “Argus.” As in the “Chesapeake’s”
battle, the discredit of the defeated ship lay in surrender to boarders.

Two such defeats were calculated to shake confidence in the American
navy. That Allen should have been beaten in gunnery was the more
strange, because his training with the guns gave him his chief credit
with Decatur. Watson, the second lieutenant of the “Argus,” attributed
the defeat to the fatigue of his crew. Whatever was the immediate
cause, no one could doubt that both the “Chesapeake” and “Argus” were
sacrificed to the over-confidence of their commanders.




CHAPTER XIII.


THE people of the Atlantic coast felt the loss of the “Chesapeake” none
too keenly. Other nations had a history to support them in moments of
mortification, or had learned by centuries of experience to accept
turns of fortune as the fate of war. The American of the sea-coast
was not only sensitive and anxious, but he also saw with singular
clearness the bearing of every disaster, and did not see with equal
distinctness the general drift of success. The loss of the “Chesapeake”
was a terrible disaster, not merely because it announced the quick
recovery of England’s pride and power from a momentary shock, but
also because it threatened to take away the single object of American
enthusiasm which redeemed shortcomings elsewhere. After the loss of
the “Chesapeake,” no American frigate was allowed the opportunity to
fight with an equal enemy. The British frigates, ordered to cruise in
company, gave the Americans no chance to renew their triumphs of 1812.

Indeed, the experience of 1813 tended to show that the frigate was no
longer the class of vessel best suited to American wants. Excessively
expensive compared with their efficiency, the “Constitution,”
“President,” and “United States” could only with difficulty obtain
crews; and when after much delay they were ready for sea, they could
not easily evade a blockading squadron. The original cost of a frigate
varied from two hundred thousand dollars to three hundred thousand;
that of a sloop-of-war, like the “Hornet,” “Wasp,” or “Argus,” varied
between forty and fifty thousand dollars. The frigate required a crew
of about four hundred men; the sloop carried about one hundred and
fifty. The annual expense of a frigate in active service was about
one hundred and thirty-four thousand dollars; that of the brig was
sixty thousand. The frigate required much time and heavy timber in
her construction; the sloop could be built quickly and of ordinary
material. The loss of a frigate was a severe national disaster; the
loss of a sloop was not a serious event.

For defensive purposes neither the frigate nor the brig counted
heavily against a nation which employed ships-of-the-line by dozens;
but even for offensive objects the frigate was hardly so useful as
the sloop-of-war. The record of the frigates for 1813 showed no
results equivalent to their cost. Their cruises were soon told. The
“President,” leaving Boston April 30, ran across to the Azores,
thence to the North Sea, and during June and July haunted the shores
of Norway, Scotland, and Ireland, returning to Newport September 27,
having taken thirteen prizes. The “Congress,” which left Boston with
the “President,” cruised nearly eight months in the Atlantic, and
returned to Boston December 14, having captured but four merchantmen.
The “Chesapeake,” which sailed from Boston Dec. 13, 1812, cruised
four months in the track of British commerce, past Madeira and Cape
de Verde, across the equator, and round through the West Indies,
returning to Boston April 9, having taken six prizes; at the beginning
of her next cruise, June 1, the “Chesapeake” was herself captured.
The adventures of the “Essex” in the Pacific were such as might have
been equally well performed by a sloop-of-war, and belonged rather to
the comparative freedom with which the frigates moved in 1812 than to
the difficult situation that followed. No other frigates succeeded in
getting to sea till December 4, when the “President” sailed again.
The injury inflicted by the frigates on the Atlantic was therefore
the capture of twenty-three merchantmen in a year. At the close of
1813, the “President” and the “Essex” were the only frigates at
sea; the “Constitution” sailed from Boston only Jan. 1, 1814; the
“United States” and “Macedonian” were blockaded at New London; the
“Constellation” was still at Norfolk; the “Adams” was at Washington,
and the “Congress” at Boston.

When this record was compared with that of the sloops-of-war the
frigates were seen to be luxuries. The sloop-of-war was a single-decked
vessel, rigged sometimes as a ship, sometimes as a brig, but never as
a sloop, measuring about one hundred and ten feet in length by thirty
in breadth, and carrying usually eighteen thirty-two-pound carronades
and two long twelve-pounders. Of this class the American navy possessed
in 1812 only four examples,--the “Hornet,” the “Wasp,” the “Argus,”
and the “Syren.” The “Wasp” was lost Oct. 18, 1812, after capturing
the “Frolic.” The “Syren” remained at New Orleans during the first
year of the war, and then came to Boston, but saw no ocean service of
importance during 1813. The “Hornet” made three prizes, including the
sloop-of-war “Peacock,” and was then blockaded with the “United States”
and “Macedonian;” but the smaller vessel could do what the frigates
could not, and in November the “Hornet” slipped out of New London and
made her way to New York, where she waited an opportunity to escape to
sea. The story will show her success. Finally, the “Argus” cruised for
a month in the British Channel, and made twenty-one prizes before she
was captured by the “Pelican.”

The three frigates, “President,” “Congress,” and “Chesapeake,”
captured twenty-three prizes in the course of the year, and lost the
“Chesapeake.” The two sloops, the “Hornet” and “Argus,” captured
twenty-four prizes, including the sloop-of-war “Peacock,” and lost the
“Argus.”

The government at the beginning of the war owned four smaller
vessels,--the “Nautilus” and “Vixen” of fourteen guns, and the
“Enterprise” and “Viper” of twelve. Another brig, the “Rattlesnake,”
sixteen, was bought. Experience seemed to prove that these were of
little use. The “Nautilus” fell into the hands of Broke’s squadron July
16, 1812, within a month after the declaration of war. The “Vixen” was
captured Nov. 22, 1812, by Sir James Yeo. The “Viper,” Jan. 17, 1813,
became prize to Captain Lumley in the British frigate “Narcissus.” The
“Enterprise” distinguished itself by capturing the “Boxer,” and was
regarded as a lucky vessel, but was never a good or fast one.[427] The
“Rattlesnake,” though fast, was at last caught on a lee shore by the
frigate “Leander,” July 11, 1814, and carried into Halifax.[428]

In the enthusiasm over the frigates in 1812, Congress voted that six
forty-fours should be built, besides four ships-of-the-line. The Act
was approved Jan. 2, 1813. Not until March 3 did Congress pass an Act
for building six new sloops-of-war. The loss of two months was not
the only misfortune in this legislation. Had the sloops been begun in
January, they might have gone to sea by the close of the year. The
six sloops were all launched within eleven months from the passage of
the bill, and the first of them, the “Frolic,” got to sea within that
time, while none of the frigates or line-of-battle ships could get
to sea within two years of the passage of the law. A more remarkable
oversight was the building of only six sloops, when an equal number of
forty-fours and four seventy-fours were ordered. Had Congress voted
twenty-four sloops, the proportion would not have been improper; but
perhaps the best policy would have been to build fifty such sloops, and
to prohibit privateering. The reasons for such a course were best seen
in the experiences of the privateers.

The history of the privateers was never satisfactorily written. Neither
their number, their measurements, their force, their captures, nor
their losses were accurately known. Little ground could be given for
an opinion in regard to their economy. Only with grave doubt could
any judgment be reached even in regard to their relative efficiency
compared with government vessels of the same class. Yet their
experience was valuable, and their services were very great.

In the summer of 1812 any craft that could keep the sea in fine weather
set out as a privateer to intercept vessels approaching the coast.
The typical privateer of the first few months was the pilot-boat,
armed with one or two long-nine or twelve-pound guns. Of twenty-six
privateers sent from New York in the first four months of war, fifteen
carried crews of eighty men or less. These small vessels especially
infested the West Indies, where fine weather and light breezes suited
their qualities. After the seas had been cleared of such prey as these
petty marauders could manage, they were found to be unprofitable,--too
small to fight and too light to escape. The typical privateer of 1813
was a larger vessel,--a brig or schooner of two or three hundred
tons, armed with one long pivot-gun, and six or eight lighter guns in
broadside; carrying crews which varied in number from one hundred and
twenty to one hundred and sixty men; swift enough to escape under most
circumstances even a frigate, and strong enough to capture any armed
merchantman.

After the war was fairly begun, the British mercantile shipping always
sailed either under convoy or as armed “running ships” that did not
wait for the slow and comparatively rare opportunities of convoy, but
trusted to their guns for defence. The new American privateer was
adapted to meet both chances. Two or three such craft hanging about a
convoy could commonly cut off some merchantman, no matter how careful
the convoying man-of-war might be. By night they could run directly
into the fleet and cut out vessels without even giving an alarm, and
by day they could pick up any craft that lagged behind or happened to
stray too far away. Yet the “running ships” were the chief objects of
their search, for these were the richest prizes; and the capture of a
single such vessel, if it reached an American port in safety, insured
success to the cruise. The loss of these vessels caused peculiar
annoyance to the British, for they sometimes carried considerable
amounts of specie, and usually were charged with a mail which was
always sunk and lost in case of capture.

As the war continued, experience taught the owners of privateers the
same lesson that was taught to the government. The most efficient
vessel of war corresponded in size with the “Hornet” or the new
sloops-of-war building in 1813. Tonnage was so arbitrary a mode of
measurement that little could be learned from the dimensions of five
hundred tons commonly given for these vessels; but in a general way
they might be regarded as about one hundred and fifteen or one hundred
and twenty feet long on the spar-deck and thirty-one feet in extreme
breadth. Unless such vessels were swift sailers, particularly handy in
working to windward, they were worse than useless; and for that reason
the utmost effort was made both by the public and private constructors
to obtain speed. At the close of the war the most efficient vessel
afloat was probably the American sloop-of-war, or privateer, of four
or five hundred tons, rigged as a ship or brig, and carrying one
hundred and fifty or sixty men, with a battery varying according to the
ideas of the captain and owners, but in the case of privateers almost
invariably including one “long Tom,” or pivot-gun.

Yet for privateering purposes the smaller craft competed closely with
the larger. For ordinary service no vessel could do more effective work
in a more economical way than was done by Joshua Barney’s “Rossie” of
Baltimore, or Boyle’s “Comet” of the same port, or Champlin’s “General
Armstrong” of New York,--schooners or brigs of two or three hundred
tons, uncomfortable to their officers and crews, but most dangerous
enemies to merchantmen. Vessels of this class came into favor long
before the war, because of their speed, quickness in handling, and
economy during the experience of twenty years in blockade-running and
evasion of cruisers. Such schooners could be built in any Northern
sea-port in six weeks or two months at half the cost of a government
cruiser.

The government sloop-of-war was not built for privateering purposes.
Every government vessel was intended chiefly to fight, and required
strength in every part and solidity throughout. The frame needed to be
heavy to support the heavier structure; the quarters needed to be thick
to protect the men at the guns from grape and musketry; the armament
was as weighty as the frame would bear. So strong were the sides of
American frigates that even thirty-two-pound shot fired at forty or
fifty feet distance sometimes failed to penetrate, and the British
complained as a grievance that the sides of an American forty-four
were thicker than those of a British seventy-four.[429] The American
ship-builders spared no pains to make all their vessels in every
respect--in size, strength, and speed--superior to the vessels with
which they were to compete; but the government ship-carpenter had a
harder task than the private ship-builder, for he was obliged to obtain
greater speed at the same time that he used heavier material than the
British constructors. As far as the navy carpenters succeeded in their
double object, they did so by improving the model and increasing the
proportions of the spars.

The privateer was built for no such object. The last purpose of a
privateer was to fight at close range, and owners much preferred that
their vessels, being built to make money, should not fight at all
unless much money could be made. The private armed vessel was built
rather to fly than to fight, and its value depended far more on its
ability to escape than on its capacity to attack. If the privateer
could sail close to the wind, and wear or tack in the twinkling of an
eye; if she could spread an immense amount of canvas and run off as
fast as a frigate before the wind; if she had sweeps to use in a calm,
and one long-range gun pivoted amidships, with plenty of men in case
boarding became necessary,--she was perfect. To obtain these results
the builders and sailors ran excessive risks. Too lightly built and
too heavily sparred, the privateer was never a comfortable or a safe
vessel. Beautiful beyond anything then known in naval construction,
such vessels roused boundless admiration, but defied imitators. British
constructors could not build them, even when they had the models;
British captains could not sail them; and when British admirals,
fascinated by their beauty and tempted by the marvellous qualities of
their model, ordered such a prize to be taken into the service, the
first act of the carpenters in the British navy-yards was to reduce
to their own standard the long masts, and to strengthen the hull and
sides till the vessel should be safe in a battle or a gale. Perhaps an
American navy-carpenter must have done the same; but though not a line
in the model might be altered, she never sailed again as she sailed
before. She could not bear conventional restraints.

Americans were proud of their privateers, as they well might be; for
this was the first time when in competition with the world, on an
element open to all, they proved their capacity to excel, and produced
a creation as beautiful as it was practical. The British navy took a
new tone in regard to these vessels. Deeply as the American frigates
and sloops-of-war had wounded the pride of the British navy, they
never had reduced that fine service to admitted inferiority. Under one
pretext or another, every defeat was excused. Even the superiority of
American gunnery was met by the proud explanation that the British
navy, since Trafalgar, had enjoyed no opportunity to use their
guns. Nothing could convince a British admiral that Americans were
better fighters than Englishmen; but when he looked at the American
schooner he frankly said that England could show no such models, and
could not sail them if she had them. In truth, the schooner was a
wonderful invention. Not her battles, but her escapes won for her the
open-mouthed admiration of the British captains, who saw their prize
double like a hare and slip through their fingers at the moment when
capture was sure. Under any ordinary condition of wind and weather,
with an open sea, the schooner, if only she could get to windward,
laughed at a frigate.

As the sailing rather than the fighting qualities of the privateer
were the chief object of her construction, those were the points best
worth recording; but the newspapers of the time were so much absorbed
in proving that Americans could fight, as to cause almost total neglect
of the more important question whether Americans could sail better than
their rivals. All great nations had fought, and at one time or another
every great nation in Europe had been victorious over every other; but
no people, in the course of a thousand years of rivalry on the ocean,
had invented or had known how to sail a Yankee schooner. Whether ship,
brig, schooner, or sloop, the American vessel was believed to outsail
any other craft on the ocean, and the proof of this superiority was
incumbent on the Americans to furnish. They neglected to do so. No
clear evidence was ever recorded of the precise capacities of their
favorite vessels. Neither the lines of the hull, the dimensions of the
spars, the rates of sailing by the log in different weather, the points
of sailing,--nothing precise was ever set down.

Of the superiority no doubts could be entertained. The best proof of
the American claim was the British admission. Hardly an English writer
on marine affairs--whether in newspapers, histories, or novels--failed
to make some allusion to the beauty and speed of American vessels. The
naval literature of Great Britain from 1812 to 1860 was full of such
material. The praise of the invention was still commonly accompanied
by some expression of dislike for the inventor, but even in that
respect a marked change followed the experiences of 1812–1814. Among
the Englishmen living on the island of Jamaica, and familiar with the
course of events in the West Indies from 1806 to 1817, was one Michael
Scott, born in Glasgow in 1789, and in the prime of his youth at the
time of the American war. In the year 1829, at the age of forty, he
began the publication in “Blackwood’s Magazine” of a series of sketches
which rapidly became popular as “Tom Cringle’s Log.” Scott was the
best narrator and probably the best informed man who wrote on the West
Indies at that period; and his frequent allusions to the United States
and the war threw more light on the social side of history than could
be obtained from all official sources ever printed.

    “I don’t like Americans,” Scott said; “I never did and never shall
    like them. I have seldom met an American gentleman in the large and
    complete sense of the term. I have no wish to eat with them, drink
    with them, deal with or consort with them in any way; but let me
    tell the whole truth,--_nor fight_ with them, were it not for the
    laurels to be acquired by overcoming an enemy so brave, determined,
    and alert, and every way so worthy of one’s steel as they have
    always proved.”

The Americans did not fight the War of 1812 in order to make themselves
loved. According to Scott’s testimony they gained the object for
which they did fight. “In gunnery and small-arm practice we were
as thoroughly weathered on by the Americans during the war as we
overtopped them in the bull-dog courage with which our boarders handled
those genuine English weapons,--the cutlass and the pike.” Superiority
in the intellectual branches of warfare was conceded to the Americans;
but even in regard to physical qualities, the British were not inclined
to boast.

    “In the field,” said Scott, “or grappling in mortal combat on the
    blood-slippery quarter-deck of an enemy’s vessel, a British soldier
    or sailor is the bravest of the brave. No soldier or sailor of any
    other country, saving and excepting those damned Yankees, can stand
    against them.”

Had English society known so much of Americans in 1807, war would have
been unnecessary.

Yet neither equality in physical courage nor superiority in the higher
branches of gunnery and small-arms was the chief success of Americans
in the war. Beyond question the schooner was the most conclusive
triumph. Readers of Michael Scott could not forget the best of his
sketches,--the escape of the little American schooner “Wave” from two
British cruisers, by running to windward under the broadside of a
man-of-war. With keen appreciation Scott detailed every motion of the
vessels, and dwelt with peculiar emphasis on the apparent desperation
of the attempt. Again and again the thirty-two-pound shot, as he
described the scene, tore through the slight vessel as the two crafts
raced through the heavy seas within musket-shot of one another, until
at last the firing from the corvette ceased. “The breeze had taken
off, and the ‘Wave,’ resuming her superiority in light winds, had
escaped.” Yet this was not the most significant part of “Tom Cringle’s”
experience. The “Wave,” being afterward captured at anchor, was taken
into the royal service and fitted as a ship-of-war. Cringle was ordered
by the vice-admiral to command her, and as she came to report he took a
look at her:--

    “When I had last seen her she was a most beautiful little craft,
    both in hull and rigging, as ever delighted the eye of a sailor;
    but the dock-yard riggers and carpenters had fairly bedevilled her,
    at least so far as appearances went. First they had replaced the
    light rail on her gunwale by heavy solid bulwarks four feet high,
    surmounted by hammock nettings at least another foot; so that the
    symmetrical little vessel that formerly floated on the foam light
    as a sea-gull now looked like a clumsy, dish-shaped Dutch dogger.
    Her long, slender wands of masts which used to swing about as if
    there were neither shrouds nor stays to support them were now as
    taut and stiff as church-steeples, with four heavy shrouds of a
    side, and stays and back-stays, and the Devil knows what all.”

“If them heave-‘emtaughts at the yard have not taken the speed out of
the little beauty I am a Dutchman” was the natural comment,--as obvious
as it was sound.

The reports of privateer captains to their owners were rarely
published, and the logs were never printed or deposited in any public
office. Occasionally, in the case of a battle or the loss of guns or
spars or cargo in a close pursuit, the privateer captain described the
causes of his loss in a letter which found its way into print; and
from such letters some idea could be drawn of the qualities held in
highest regard, both in their vessels and in themselves. The first and
commonest remark was that privateers of any merit never seemed to feel
anxious for their own safety so long as they could get to windward a
couple of gunshots from their enemy. They would risk a broadside in
the process without very great anxiety. They chiefly feared lest they
might be obliged to run before the wind in heavy weather. The little
craft which could turn on itself like a flash and dart away under a
frigate’s guns into the wind’s eye long before the heavy ship could
come about, had little to fear on that point of sailing; but when she
was obliged to run to leeward, the chances were more nearly equal.
Sometimes, especially in light breezes or in a stronger wind, by
throwing guns and weighty articles overboard privateers could escape;
but in heavy weather the ship-of-war could commonly outcarry them, and
more often could drive them on a coast or into the clutches of some
other man-of-war.

Of being forced to fly to leeward almost every privateer could tell
interesting stories. A fair example of such tales was an adventure
of Captain George Coggeshall, who afterward compiled, chiefly from
newspapers, an account of the privateers, among which he preserved
a few stories that would otherwise have been lost.[430] Coggeshall
commanded a two-hundred-ton schooner, the “David Porter,” in which
he made the run to France with a cargo and a letter-of-marque. The
schooner was at Bordeaux in March, 1814, when Wellington’s army
approached. Afraid of seizure by the British if he remained at
Bordeaux, Coggeshall sailed from Bordeaux for La Rochelle with a light
wind from the eastward, when at daylight March 15, 1814, he found
a large ship about two miles to windward. Coggeshall tried to draw
his enemy down to leeward, but only lost ground until the ship was
not more than two gunshots away. The schooner could then not run to
windward without taking the enemy’s fire within pistol-shot, and dared
not return to Bordeaux. Nothing remained but to run before the wind.
Coggeshall got out his square-sail and studding-sails ready to set,
and when everything was prepared he changed his course and bore off
suddenly, gaining a mile in the six or eight minutes lost by the ship
in spreading her studding-sails. He then started his water-casks, threw
out ballast, and drew away from his pursuer, till in a few hours the
ship became a speck on the horizon.

Apparently a similar but narrower escape was made by Captain Champlin
of the “Warrior,” a famous privateer-brig of four hundred and thirty
tons, mounting twenty-one guns and carrying one hundred and fifty
men.[431] Standing for the harbor of Fayal, Dec. 15, 1814, he was seen
by a British man-of-war lying there at anchor. The enemy slipped her
cables and made sail in chase. The weather was very fresh and squally,
and at eight o’clock in the evening the ship was only three miles
distant. After a run of about sixty miles, the man-of-war came within
grape-shot distance and opened fire from her two bow-guns. Champlin
luffed a little, got his long pivot-gun to bear, and ran out his
starboard guns as though to fight, which caused the ship to shorten
sail for battle. Then Champlin at two o’clock in the morning threw
overboard eleven guns, and escaped. The British ship was in sight the
next morning, but did not pursue farther.

Often the privateers were obliged to throw everything overboard at the
risk of capsizing, or escaped capture only by means of their sweeps. In
1813 Champlin commanded the “General Armstrong,” a brig of two hundred
and forty-six tons and one hundred and forty men. Off Surinam, March
11, 1813, he fell in with the British sloop-of-war “Coquette,” which
he mistook for a letter-of-marque, and approached with the intention
of boarding. Having come within pistol-shot and fired his broadsides,
he discovered his error. The wind was light, the two vessels had no
headway, and for three quarters of an hour, if Champlin’s account
could be believed, he lay within pistol-shot of the man-of-war. He
was struck by a musket-ball in the left shoulder; six of his crew
were killed and fourteen wounded; his rigging was cut to pieces; his
foremast and bowsprit injured, and several shots entered the brig
between wind and water, causing her to leak; but at last he succeeded
in making sail forward, and with the aid of his sweeps crept out of
range. The sloop-of-war was unable to cripple or follow him.[432]

Sometimes the very perfection of the privateer led to dangers as great
as though perfection were a fault. Captain Shaler of the “Governor
Tompkins,” a schooner, companion to the “General Armstrong,” chased
three sail Dec. 25, 1812, and on near approach found them to be two
ships and a brig. The larger ship had the appearance of a government
transport; she had boarding-nettings almost up to her tops, but her
ports appeared to be painted, and she seemed prepared for running
away as she fought. Shaler drew nearer, and came to the conclusion
that the ship was too heavy for him; but while his first officer went
forward with the glass to take another look, a sudden squall struck
the schooner without reaching the ship, and in a moment, before the
light sails could be taken in, “and almost before I could turn round,
I was under the guns, not of a transport, but of a large frigate,
and not more than a quarter of a mile from her.” With impudence that
warranted punishment, Shaler fired his little broadside of nine
or twelve pounders into the enemy, who replied with a broadside of
twenty-four-pounders, killing three men, wounding five, and causing an
explosion on deck that threw confusion into the crew; but the broadside
did no serious injury to the rigging. The schooner was then just abaft
the ship’s beam, a quarter of a mile away, holding the same course
and to windward. She could not tack without exposing her stern to a
raking fire, and any failure to come about would have been certain
destruction. Shaler stood on, taking the ship’s fire, on the chance of
outsailing his enemy before a shot could disable the schooner. Side by
side the two vessels raced for half an hour, while twenty-four-pound
shot fell in foam about the schooner, but never struck her, and at
last she drew ahead beyond range. Even then her dangers were not at
an end. A calm followed; the ship put out boats; and only by throwing
deck-lumber and shot overboard, and putting all hands at the sweeps,
did Shaler “get clear of one of the most quarrelsome companions that I
ever met with.”[433]

The capacities of the American privateer could to some extent be
inferred from its mishaps. Notwithstanding speed, skill, and caution,
the privateer was frequently and perhaps usually captured in the end.
The modes of capture were numerous. April 3, 1813, Admiral Warren’s
squadron in the Chesapeake captured by boats, after a sharp action,
the privateer “Dolphin” of Baltimore, which had taken refuge in the
Rappahannock River. April 27 the “Tom” of Baltimore, a schooner of
nearly three hundred tons, carrying fourteen guns, was captured by his
Majesty’s ships “Surveillante” and “Lyra” after a smart chase. Captain
Collier of the “Surveillante” reported: “She is a remarkably fine
vessel of her class, and from her superior sailing has already escaped
from eighteen of his Majesty’s cruisers.” May 11, the “Holkar” of New
York was driven ashore off Rhode Island and destroyed by the “Orpheus”
frigate. May 19, Captain Gordon of the British man-of-war “Ratler,”
in company with the schooner “Bream,” drove ashore and captured the
“Alexander” of Salem, off Kennebunk, “considered the fastest sailing
privateer out of the United States,” according to Captain Gordon’s
report.[434] May 21, Captain Hyde Parker of the frigate “Tenedos,” in
company with the brig “Curlew,” captured the “Enterprise” of Salem,
pierced for eighteen guns. May 23, the “Paul Jones,” of sixteen guns
and one hundred and twenty men, fell in with a frigate in a thick fog
off the coast of Ireland, and being crippled by her fire surrendered.
July 13, Admiral Cockburn captured by boats at Ocracoke Inlet the fine
privateer-brig “Anaconda” of New York, with a smaller letter-of-marque.
July 17, at sea, three British men-of-war, after a chase of four hours,
captured the “Yorktown” of twenty guns and one hundred and forty men.
The schooner “Orders in Council” of New York, carrying sixteen guns
and one hundred and twenty men, was captured during the summer, after a
long chase of five days, by three British cutters that drove her under
the guns of a frigate. The “Matilda,” privateer of eleven guns and one
hundred and four men, was captured off San Salvador by attempting to
board the British letter-of-marque “Lyon” under the impression that she
was the weaker ship.

In these ten instances of large privateers captured or destroyed in
1813, the mode of capture happened to be recorded; and in none of them
was the privateer declared to have been outsailed and caught by any
single British vessel on the open seas. Modes of disaster were many,
and doubtless among the rest a privateer might occasionally be fairly
beaten in speed, but few such cases were recorded, although British
naval officers were quick to mention these unusual victories. Unless
the weather gave to the heavier British vessel-of-war the advantage of
carrying more sail in a rough sea, the privateer was rarely outsailed.

The number of privateers at sea in 1813 was not recorded. The list
of all private armed vessels during the entire war included somewhat
more than five hundred names.[435] Most of these were small craft,
withdrawn after a single cruise. Not two hundred were so large as to
carry crews of fifty men. Nearly two hundred and fifty, or nearly half
the whole number of privateers, fell into British hands. Probably at
no single moment were more than fifty seagoing vessels on the ocean
as privateers, and the number was usually very much less; while the
large privateer-brigs or ships that rivalled sloops-of-war in size were
hardly more numerous than the sloops themselves.

The total number of prizes captured from the British in 1813
exceeded four hundred, four fifths of which were probably captured
by privateers, national cruisers taking only seventy-nine. If the
privateers succeeded in taking three hundred and fifty prizes, the
whole number of privateers could scarcely have exceeded one hundred.
The government cruisers “President,” “Congress,” “Chesapeake,”
“Hornet,” and “Argus” averaged nearly ten prizes apiece. Privateers
averaged much less; but they were ten times as numerous as the
government cruisers, and inflicted four times as much injury.

Such an addition to the naval force of the United States was very
important. Doubtless the privateers contributed more than the regular
navy to bring about a disposition for peace in the British classes most
responsible for the war. The colonial and shipping interests, whose
influence produced the Orders in Council, suffered the chief penalty.
The West India colonies were kept in constant discomfort and starvation
by swarms of semi-piratical craft darting in and out of every channel
among their islands; but the people of England could have borne with
patience the punishment of the West Indies had not the American
cruisers inflicted equally severe retribution nearer home.

Great Britain was blockaded. No one could deny that manifest danger
existed to any merchant-vessel that entered or left British waters.
During the summer the blockade was continuous. Toward the close of
1812 an American named Preble, living in Paris, bought a small vessel,
said to have belonged in turn to the British and French navy, which
he fitted as a privateer-brig, carrying sixteen guns and one hundred
and sixty men. The “True-Blooded Yankee,” commanded by Captain Hailey,
sailed from Brest March 1, 1813, and cruised thirty-seven days on
the coasts of Ireland and Scotland, capturing twenty-seven valuable
vessels; sinking coasters in the very bay of Dublin; landing and taking
possession of an island off the coast of Ireland, and of a town in
Scotland, where she burned seven vessels in the harbor. She returned
safely to Brest, and soon made another cruise. At the same time the
schooner “Fox” of Portsmouth burned or sunk vessel after vessel in
the Irish Sea, as they plied between Liverpool and Cork. In May, the
schooner “Paul Jones” of New York, carrying sixteen guns and one
hundred and twenty men, took or destroyed a dozen vessels off the Irish
coast, until she was herself caught in a fog by the frigate “Leonidas,”
and captured May 23 after a chase in which five of her crew were
wounded.

While these vessels were thus engaged, the brig “Rattlesnake” of
Philadelphia, carrying sixteen guns and one hundred and twenty men, and
the brig “Scourge” of New York, carrying nine guns and one hundred and
ten men, crossed the ocean and cruised all the year in the northern
seas off the coasts of Scotland and Norway, capturing some forty
British vessels, and costing the British merchants and ship-owners
losses to the amount of at least two million dollars. In July the
“Scourge” fell in with Commodore Rodgers in the “President,” and the
two vessels remained several days in company off the North Cape, while
the British admiralty sent three or four squadrons in search of them
without success. July 19, after Rodgers had been nearly a month in
British waters, one of these squadrons drove him away, and he then made
a circuit round Ireland before he turned homeward. At the same time,
from July 14 to August 14, the “Argus” was destroying vessels in the
British Channel at the rate of nearly one a day. After the capture of
the “Argus,” August 14, the “Grand Turk” of Salem, a brig carrying
sixteen guns and one hundred and five men, cruised for twenty days
in the mouth of the British Channel without being disturbed. Besides
these vessels, others dashed into British waters from time to time as
they sailed forward and back across the ocean in the track of British
commerce.

No one disputed that the privateers were a very important branch of
the American navy; but they suffered under serious drawbacks, which
left doubtful the balance of merits and defects. Perhaps their chief
advantage compared with government vessels was their lightness,--a
quality which no government would have carried to the same extent. The
long-range pivot-gun was another invention of the privateer, peculiarly
successful and easily adapted for government vessels. In other
respects, the same number or even half the number of sloops-of-war
would have probably inflicted greater injury at less cost. The “Argus”
showed how this result could have been attained. The privateer’s first
object was to save prizes; and in the effort to send captured vessels
into port the privateer lost a large proportion by recapture. Down to
the moment when Admiral Warren established his blockade of the American
coast from New York southward, most of the prizes got to port. After
that time the New England ports alone offered reasonable chance of
safety, and privateering received a check.[436] During the war about
twenty-five hundred vessels all told were captured from the British.
Many were destroyed; many released as cartels; and of the remainder not
less than seven hundred and fifty, probably one half the number sent
to port, were recaptured by the British navy. Most of these were the
prizes of privateers, and would have been destroyed had they been taken
by government vessels. They were usually the most valuable prizes, so
that the injury that might have been inflicted on British commerce was
diminished nearly one half by the system which encouraged private war
as a money-making speculation.

Another objection was equally serious. Like all gambling ventures,
privateering was not profitable. In the list of five hundred privateers
furnished by the Navy Department,[437] three hundred were recorded as
having never made a prize. Of the remainder, few made their expenses.
One of the most successful cruises of the war was that of Joshua Barney
on the Baltimore schooner “Rossie” at the outbreak of hostilities, when
every prize reached port. Barney sent in prizes supposed to be worth
fifteen hundred thousand dollars; but after paying charges and duties
and selling the goods, he found that the profits were not sufficient
to counterbalance the discomforts, and he refused to repeat the
experiment. His experience was common. As early as November, 1812, the
owners of twenty-four New York privateers sent to Congress a memorial
declaring that the profits of private naval war were by no means equal
to the hazards, and that the spirit of privateering stood in danger of
extinction unless the government would consent in some manner to grant
a bounty for the capture or destruction of the enemy’s property.

If private enterprise was to fail at the critical moment, and if the
government must supply the deficiency, the government would have done
better to undertake the whole task. In effect, the government in the
end did so. The merchants asked chiefly for a reduction of duties
on prize-goods. Gallatin pointed out the serious objections to such
legislation, and the little probability that the measure would increase
the profits of privateering or the number of privateers. The actual
privateers, he said, were more than enough for the food offered by the
enemy’s trade, and privateering, like every other form of gambling,
would always continue to attract more adventurers than it could
support.[438]

Congress for the time followed Gallatin’s advice, and did nothing; but
in the summer session of 1813, after Gallatin’s departure for Europe,
the privateer owners renewed their appeal, and the acting Secretary of
the Treasury, Jones, wrote to the chairman of the Naval Committee July
21, 1813,[439]--

    “The fact is that ... privateering is nearly at an end; and from
    the best observation I have been enabled to make, it is more from
    the deficiency of remuneration in the net proceeds of their prizes
    than from the vigilance and success of the enemy in recapturing.”

In deference to Jones’s opinion, Congress passed an Act, approved Aug.
2, 1813, reducing one third the duties on prize-goods. Another Act,
approved August 3, granted a bounty of twenty-five dollars for every
prisoner captured and delivered to a United States agent by a private
armed vessel. A third Act, approved August 2, authorized the Secretary
of the Navy to place on the pension list any privateersman who should
be wounded or disabled in the line of his duty.

These complaints and palliations tended to show that the privateer cost
the public more than the equivalent government vessel would have cost.
If instead of five hundred privateers of all sizes and efficiency, the
government had kept twenty sloops-of-war constantly at sea destroying
the enemy’s commerce, the result would have been about the same as
far as concerned injury to the enemy, while in another respect the
government would have escaped one of its chief difficulties. Nothing
injured the navy so much as privateering. Seamen commonly preferred
the harder but more profitable and shorter cruise in a privateer,
where fighting was not expected or wished, to the strict discipline
and murderous battles of government ships, where wages were low and
prize-money scarce. Of all towns in the United States, Marblehead was
probably the most devoted to the sea; but of nine hundred men from
Marblehead who took part in the war, fifty-seven served as soldiers,
one hundred and twenty entered the navy, while seven hundred and
twenty-six went as privateersmen.[440] Only after much delay and
difficulty could the frigates obtain crews. The “Constitution” was
nearly lost by this cause at the beginning of the war; and the loss of
the “Chesapeake” was supposed to be chiefly due to the determination
of the old crew to quit the government service for that of the
privateers.

Such drawbacks raised reasonable doubts as to the balance of advantages
and disadvantages offered by the privateer system. Perhaps more
careful inquiry might show that, valuable as the privateers were, the
government would have done better to retain all military and naval
functions in its own hands, and to cover the seas with small cruisers
capable of pursuing a system of thorough destruction against the
shipping and colonial interests of England.




CHAPTER XIV.


GALLATIN and Bayard, having sailed from the Delaware May 9, arrived
at St. Petersburg July 21, only to find that during the six months
since the Czar offered to mediate, Russia had advanced rapidly in
every direction except that of the proposed mediation. Napoleon
after being driven from Russia in December, 1812, passed the winter
in Paris organizing a new army of three hundred thousand men on the
Elbe, between Dresden and Magdeburg, while a second army of more than
one hundred thousand was to hold Hamburg and Bremen. Russia could not
prevent Napoleon from reconstructing a force almost as powerful as that
with which he had marched to Moscow, for the Russian army had suffered
very severely and was unfit for active service; but the Czar succeeded
in revolutionizing Prussia, and in forcing the French to retire from
the Vistula to the Elbe, while he gained a reinforcement of more than
one hundred thousand men from the fresh and vigorous Prussian army.
Even with that assistance the Czar could not cope with Napoleon, who,
leaving Paris April 17, during the month of May fought furious battles
at Lützen and Bautzen, which forced the allied Russian and Prussian
armies back from the Elbe to the Oder.

At that point Austria interfered so energetically as to oblige Napoleon
to accept an armistice for the purpose of collecting new forces. During
the armistice the Czar stationed himself at Gitschin in Bohemia, nine
hundred miles from St. Petersburg, and about the same distance from
London by the path that couriers were obliged to take. When Gallatin
and Bayard reached St. Petersburg, July 21, the armistice, which had
been prolonged until August 10, was about to expire, and the Czar could
not be anxious to decide subordinate questions until the issue of the
coming campaign should be known.

Meanwhile the government of England had in May, with many friendly
expressions, declined the Russian mediation.[441] Castlereagh probably
hoped that this quiet notification to Lieven, the Russian envoy in
London, would end the matter; but toward the month of July news reached
London that the American commissioners, Gallatin and Bayard, had
arrived at Gothenburg on their way to Russia, and Castlereagh then
saw that he must be more explicit in his refusal. Accordingly he took
measures for making the matter clear not only to the Russian government
but also to the American commissioners.

With the Russian government he was obliged by the nature of their
common relations to communicate officially, and he wrote instructions
to Lord Cathcart, dated July 5, directing communication to be made.

    “I am afraid,” said Castlereagh’s letter,[442] “this tender of
    mediation which on a question of maritime right cannot be listened
    to by Great Britain, however kindly and liberally intended, will
    have had the unfortunate effect of protracting the war with the
    United States. It is to be lamented that the formal offer was made
    to America before the disposition of the British government was
    previously sounded as to its acceptance of a mediation. It has
    enabled the President to hold out to the people of America a vague
    expectation of peace, under which he may reconcile them with less
    repugnance to submit to the measures of the Government. This evil,
    however, cannot now be avoided, and it only remains to prevent this
    question from producing any embarrassment between Great Britain and
    Russia.”

Embarrassment between Great Britain and Russia was no new thing in
European politics, and commonly involved maritime objects for which
the United States were then fighting. Castlereagh had much reason
for wishing to avoid the danger. The most fortunate result he could
reasonably expect from the coming campaign was a defeat of Bonaparte
that should drive him back to the Rhine. Then Russia and Austria would
probably offer terms to Napoleon; England would be obliged to join in
a European Congress; Napoleon would raise the question of maritime
rights, and on that point he would be supported by Russian sympathies.
Napoleon and Russia might insist that the United States should take
part in the Congress, and in that case England might be obliged to
retire from it. Castlereagh felt uneasy at the prospect, and ordered
Cathcart to “press the Emperor of Russia in the strongest manner not
to push his personal interference on this point further.” Cathcart
was to use his utmost endeavors to persuade the Czar “pointedly to
discountenance a design so mischievously calculated to promote the
views of France.”

Another week of reflection only increased Castlereagh’s anxieties, and
caused the British government to take a step intended to leave the Czar
no opening for interference. July 13 Castlereagh wrote Cathcart new
instructions,[443] directing him to present a formal note acquainting
the Czar that the Prince Regent was “ready immediately to name
plenipotentiaries to meet and treat with the American plenipotentiaries
in the earnest desire” of peace, either in London or at Gothenburg;
although he could “not consent that these discussions should be carried
on in any place which might be supposed to imply that they were in
any way connected with any other negotiations.” He wrote privately to
Cathcart that the mere knowledge of the intervention of a third power
in any arrangement with the United States would probably decide the
British people against it.[444]

Thus in July, 1813, when the war was barely a year old, Castlereagh
reached the point of offering to negotiate directly with the United
States. This advantage was gained by the Russian offer of mediation,
and was intended not to pacify America but to silence Alexander and
Roumanzoff. Castlereagh was frank and prompt in his declarations.
His offer of direct negotiation was dated July 13, at a time when
Alexander Baring received a letter from Gallatin announcing his arrival
at Gothenburg and inviting assistance for the proposed mediation.
Baring consulted Castlereagh, and wrote, July 22, a long letter to
Gallatin, to inform the American commissioners what the British
government had done and was willing to do. “Before this reaches you,”
said Baring,[445] “you will have been informed that this mediation
has been refused, with expressions of our desire to treat separately
and directly here; or, if more agreeable to you, at Gothenburg.”
To leave no room for misunderstanding, Baring added that if the
American commissioners were obliged by their instructions to adhere
pertinaciously to the American demands in respect to impressments, he
should think negotiation useless.

In regular succession all these expressions of British policy were
received at St. Petersburg in the Czar’s absence, and in the doubtful
state of mind which followed the battles of Lützen and Bautzen.
Alexander had left Count Roumanzoff at St. Petersburg, continuing to
act as Chancellor of the Empire and Foreign Secretary; but in truth
the Minister of Foreign Affairs, as far as the Czar then required such
an officer, was Count Nesselrode, who attended Alexander in person and
received his orders orally. Nesselrode at that time was rather an agent
than an adviser; but in general he represented the English alliance and
hostility to Napoleon, while Roumanzoff represented the French alliance
and hostility to England.

Of English diplomacy Americans knew something, and could by similarity
of mind divine what was not avowed. Of French diplomacy they had long
experience, and their study was rendered from time to time more easy
by Napoleon’s abrupt methods. Of Russian diplomacy they knew little
or nothing. Thus far Minister Adams had been given his own way. He
had been allowed to seem to kindle the greatest war of modern times,
and had been invited to make use of Russia against England; but the
Czar’s reasons for granting such favor were mysterious even to Adams,
for while Napoleon occasionally avowed motives, Alexander never did.
Russian diplomacy moved wholly in the dark.

Only one point was certain. For reasons of his own, the Czar chose
to leave Roumanzoff nominally in office until the result of the war
should be decided, although Roumanzoff was opposed to the Czar’s
policy. The chancellor did not stand alone in his hostility to the war;
probably a majority of the Russian people shared the feeling. Even the
army and its old General Koutousoff, though elated with an immense
triumph, grumbled at being obliged to fight the battles of Germany,
and would gladly have returned to their own soil. The Czar himself
could not afford to break his last tie with the French interest, but
was wise to leave a path open by which he could still retreat in case
his war in Germany failed. If Napoleon should succeed once more in
throwing the Russian army back upon Russian soil, Alexander might still
be obliged to use Roumanzoff’s services if not to resume his policy.
Such a suspicion might not wholly explain Alexander’s course toward
Roumanzoff and Koutousoff, but no one could doubt that it explained
the chancellor’s course toward the Czar. Indeed, Roumanzoff made
little concealment of his situation or his hopes. Adams could without
much difficulty divine that the failure of the Czar in Germany would
alone save Roumanzoff in St. Petersburg, and that the restoration of
Roumanzoff to power was necessary to reinvigorate the mediation.

Castlereagh’s first positive refusal to accept the mediation was
notified to Count Lieven in May, and was known to Roumanzoff in St.
Petersburg about the middle of June. Early in July the Czar received
it, and by his order Nesselrode, in a despatch to Lieven dated July
9, expressed “the perfect satisfaction which his Imperial Majesty felt
in the reasons which actuated the conduct of this [British] government
on a point of so much delicacy and importance.”[446] The Czar was then
in the midst of difficulties. The result of the war was doubtful, and
depended on Austria.

Just as news of the armistice arrived in St. Petersburg, Minister Adams
went to Roumanzoff, June 22, to inform him of Gallatin’s and Bayard’s
appointment. Roumanzoff in return gave Adams explicit information
of England’s refusal to accept the Czar’s offer. Adams immediately
recorded it in his Diary:[447]--

    “He [Roumanzoff] said that he was very sorry to say he had
    received since he had seen me [June 15] further despatches from
    Count Lieven, stating that the British government, with many
    very friendly and polite assurances that there was no mediation
    which they should so readily and cheerfully accept as that of the
    Emperor of Russia, had however stated that their differences with
    the United States of America involving certain principles of the
    internal government of England were of a nature which they did not
    think suitable to be settled by a mediation.”

Adams expected this answer, and at once assumed it to be final;
but Roumanzoff checked him. “It would now be for consideration,”
he continued, “whether, after the step thus taken by the American
government [in sending commissioners to St. Petersburg], it would not
be advisable to renew the proposition to Great Britain; upon which he
should write to the Emperor.” Not because of any American request, but
wholly of his own motion, Roumanzoff proposed to keep the mediation
alive. His motives were for Adams to fathom. The chancellor did not
avow them, but he hinted to Adams that the chances of war were many.
“Perhaps it might be proper not to be discouraged by the ill success
of his first advances. After considerations might produce more pacific
dispositions in the British government. Unexpected things were
happening every day; ‘and in our own affairs,’ said the count, ‘a very
general report prevails that an armistice has taken place.’” A Congress
had been proposed, and the United States were expressly named among the
Powers to be invited to it.

Adams reported this conversation to his Government in a despatch dated
June 26,[448] and waited for his two new colleagues, who arrived July
21. Personally the colleagues were agreeable to Adams, and the proposed
negotiation was still more so, for the President sent him official
notice that in case the negotiations were successful, Adams’s services
would be required as minister in London; but with the strongest
inducements to press the mediation, Adams could not but see that he and
his colleagues depended on Roumanzoff, and that Roumanzoff depended
not on Alexander, but on Napoleon. Roumanzoff’s only chance of aiding
them was by clinging to office until the Czar should be weary of war.

Unwilling as Gallatin was to be thus made the sport of imperial policy,
he was obliged, like his colleagues, to submit. Two days after their
arrival, Roumanzoff told them that he meant, if possible, to begin the
whole transaction anew.

    “The count said he regretted much that there was such reason
    to believe the British would decline the mediation; but on
    transmitting the copy of the credential letter to the Emperor, he
    would determine whether to renew the proposal, as the opposition in
    England might make it an embarrassing charge against the Ministry
    if they should under such circumstances reject it.”[449]

Roumanzoff had written soon after June 22 to ask the Czar whether,
on the arrival of the American commissioners, the offer of mediation
should be renewed. The Czar, overwhelmed with business, wrote back,
about July 20, approving Roumanzoff’s suggestion, and authorizing him
to send a despatch directly to Count Lieven in London renewing the
offer. The Czar’s letter was communicated to Adams August 10[450] by
Roumanzoff, who was evidently much pleased and perhaps somewhat excited
by it.

Such a letter warranted some excitement, for Roumanzoff could regard it
only as a sign of hesitation and anxiety. Alexander was in a degree
pledged to England to press the mediation no further. While he assured
England through Nesselrode, July 9, that he was perfectly satisfied
with the British reasons for refusing his offer of mediation “on a
point of so much delicacy and importance,” he authorized Roumanzoff
only ten days afterward to annoy England a second time with an offer
which he had every reason to know must be rejected; and he did this
without informing Nesselrode.

Gallatin and Bayard found themselves, August 10, condemned to
wait two or three months for the British answer, which they knew
must be unfavorable, because Gallatin received August 17 Baring’s
letter announcing the determination of Castlereagh to negotiate
separately. Roumanzoff’s conduct became more and more mysterious to
the commissioners. He did not notify them of Castlereagh’s official
offer to negotiate directly. He confounded Adams, August 19, by flatly
denying his own information, given two months before, that England
rejected mediation in principle because it involved doctrines of
her internal government. Roumanzoff insisted that England had never
refused to accept the mediation, although he held in his hands at least
two despatches from Lieven, written as late as July 13, officially
communicating England’s determination to negotiate directly or not
at all. Castlereagh, foreseeing the possibility of misunderstanding,
had read to Lieven the instructions of July 13 for communication to
Roumanzoff, besides authorizing Cathcart to show them _in extenso_
to the Czar.[451] In denying that such instructions had been given,
Roumanzoff could not have expected the American commissioners to
believe him.

The motive of Roumanzoff’s persistence might be open to the simple
explanation that the chancellor hoped to recover power, and within
a few months to re-establish his policy of antagonism to England.
Alexander’s conduct could be explained by no such obvious interest.
When Castlereagh’s letters of July 13 and 14 reached Cathcart at the
Czar’s headquarters in Bohemia about August 10, they arrived at the
most critical moment of the war. On that day the armistice expired.
The next day Austria declared war on Napoleon. The combined armies
of Russia, Prussia, and Austria concentrated behind the mountains,
and then marched into Saxony. While starting on that campaign, August
20, the Czar was told by Lord Cathcart the reasons why his offer of
mediation was rejected, and answered at once that in this case he could
do nothing more.[452] Cathcart wrote to Nesselrode a formal note on
the subject August 23 or 24, but did not at once communicate it,[453]
because the campaign had then begun; the great battle of Dresden was
fought August 26 and 27, and the allies, again beaten, retired into
Bohemia August 28. The Czar saw his best military adviser Moreau
killed by his side at Dresden, and he returned to Töplitz in no happy
frame of mind.

At Töplitz, September 1, Cathcart delivered to Nesselrode his formal
note,[454] refusing Russian mediation and communicating the offer of
England to negotiate directly. In an ordinary condition of government
Nesselrode should have taken care that the British note should be made
known without delay to the American commissioners at St. Petersburg,
but the Czar kept in his own hands the correspondence with Roumanzoff
and the Americans, and neither he nor Nesselrode communicated
Cathcart’s act to Roumanzoff.[455] Possibly their silence was due to
the new military movements. August 29 the French marshal Vandamme
with forty thousand men, pursuing the allies into Bohemia, was caught
between the Prussians and Austrians August 30 and crushed. During the
month of September severe fighting, favorable to the allies, occurred,
but no general advance was made by the allied sovereigns.

Alexander next received at Töplitz toward September 20 a letter from
Roumanzoff enclosing a renewal of the offer of mediation, to be
proposed in a despatch to Lieven, read by Roumanzoff to the American
commissioners August 24, and sent to London August 28. The Czar must
have known the futility of this new step, as well as the mistake
into which Roumanzoff had been led, and the awkward attitude of the
American commissioners. Only a fortnight before, he had received
Cathcart’s official note, and a few days earlier he had assured
Cathcart that he should do no more in the matter. Yet, September 20,
Alexander wrote with his own hand a note of four lines to Roumanzoff,
approving his despatch to Lieven, and begging him to follow up the
affair as he had begun it.[456]

The Czar’s letter of September 20 completed the embroglio, which
remained unintelligible to every one except himself. Cathcart was the
most mystified of all the victims to the Czar’s double attitude. At the
time when Alexander thus for the second time authorized Roumanzoff to
disregard the express entreaties of the British government, Cathcart
was making an effort to explain to Castlereagh the Czar’s first
interference. If Castlereagh understood his minister’s ideas, he was
gifted with more than common penetration.

    “I believe the not communicating the rescript of the Emperor
    concerning the American plenipotentiaries to have been the effect
    of accident,” wrote Cathcart[457] from Töplitz September 25; “but
    what is singular is that notwithstanding his [Nesselrode’s] letter
    of the ninth [July], by the Emperor’s command, to Count Lieven,
    this communication from and instruction to Roumanzoff was not known
    to Count Nesselrode till this day, when I mentioned it to him,
    having received no caution to do otherwise, and he was not at all
    pleased with it. It was during the advance to Dresden. But I cannot
    help thinking that there must have been some policy of Roumanzoff’s
    stated in regard to keeping hold of the mediation, which,
    whether it was detailed or not, would not escape the Emperor’s
    penetration, and upon which he may have been induced to act as far
    as sanctioning the proposal of treating at _London_ under Russia’s
    mediation, which the Prince Regent’s government might accept or
    reject as they pleased; and that not wishing to go at that time
    into a discussion of maritime rights with either Nesselrode or me,
    he afterward forgot it.”

Cathcart’s style was involved, but his perplexity was evident. His
remarks related only to the Czar’s first letter to Roumanzoff, written
about July 20, not “during the advance to Dresden.” He knew nothing of
the Czar’s second letter to Roumanzoff, dated September 20, renewing
the same authority, only five days before Cathcart’s labored attempt
to explain the first. Of the second letter, as of the first, neither
Nesselrode nor Cathcart was informed.

The Czar’s motive in thus ordering each of his two ministers to act
in ignorance and contradiction of the other’s instructions perplexed
Roumanzoff as it did Cathcart. Lieven first revealed to Roumanzoff
the strange misunderstanding by positively refusing to present to
Castlereagh the chancellor’s note of August 28 renewing the offer of
mediation. Roumanzoff was greatly mortified. He told Gallatin that
the mediation had been originally the Czar’s own idea; that it had
been the subject of repeated discussions at his own motion, and had
been adopted notwithstanding Roumanzoff’s hints at the possibility
of English reluctance.[458] The chancellor sent Lieven’s despatch
immediately to the Czar without comment, requesting the Czar to read
it and give his orders. The British officials, unwilling to blame
Alexander, attacked Roumanzoff. Lord Walpole, who came directly from
Bohemia to St. Petersburg to act as British ambassador, said “he was
as sure as he was of his own existence, and he believed he could prove
it, that Roumanzoff had been cheating us all.”[459] Cathcart wrote,
December 12, to Castlereagh,--

    “I think Nesselrode knows nothing of the delay of communicating
    with the American mission; that it was an intrigue of the
    chancellor’s, if it is one; and that during the operations of
    war the Emperor lost the clew to it, so that something has been
    unanswered.”[460]

Perhaps the Czar’s conduct admitted of several interpretations. He
might wish to keep the mediation alive in order to occupy Roumanzoff
until the campaign should be decided; or he might in his good nature
prefer to gratify his old favorite by allowing him to do what he
wished; or he took this method of signifying to Roumanzoff his disgrace
and the propriety of immediate retirement. Apparently Roumanzoff took
the last view, for he sent his resignation to the Czar, and at the
close of the year quitted his official residence at the Department of
Foreign Affairs, telling Gallatin that he remained in office only till
he should receive authority to close the American mission.

The American commissioners in private resented Alexander’s treatment,
but were unable to leave Russia without authority. Gallatin learned,
October 19, that the Senate had refused to confirm his appointment, but
he remained at St. Petersburg, chiefly in deference to Roumanzoff’s
opinion, and probably with ideas of assisting the direct negotiation at
London or elsewhere. Meanwhile the campaign was decided, October 18, by
Napoleon’s decisive overthrow at Leipzig, which forced him to retreat
behind the Rhine. Still the Czar wrote nothing to Roumanzoff, and the
American commissioners remained month after month at St. Petersburg.
Not until Jan. 25, 1814, did Gallatin and Bayard begin their winter
journey to Amsterdam, where they arrived March 4 and remained a month.
Then Gallatin received, through Baring, permission to enter England,
and crossed the Channel to hasten if he could the direct negotiation
which Castlereagh had offered and Madison accepted.

The diplomatic outlook had changed since March, 1813, when the
President accepted the offer of Russian mediation; but the change was
wholly for the worse. England’s triumphs girdled the world, and found
no check except where Perry’s squadron blocked the way to Detroit.
The allied armies crossed the Rhine in December and entered France
on the east. At the same time Wellington after a long campaign drove
Joseph from Spain, and entering France from the south pressed against
Bordeaux. The government and people of England, in their excitement and
exultation at daily conquests, thought as little as they could of the
American war. Society rarely mentioned it. Newspapers alone preserved
a record of British feelings toward the United States during the year
1813. The expressions of newspapers, like those of orators, could not
be accepted without allowance, for they aimed at producing some desired
effect, and said either more or less than the truth; as a rule, they
represented the cool opinion neither of the person who uttered nor
of the audience who heard them; but in the absence of other records,
public opinion was given only in the press, and the London newspapers
alone furnished evidence of its character.

The “Morning Chronicle”--the only friend of the United States in the
daily press of England--showed its friendship by silence. Whatever the
liberal opposition thought in private, no one but Cobbett ventured
in public to oppose the war. Cobbett having become a radical at the
time of life when most men become conservative, published in his
“Weekly Register” many columns of vigorous criticism on the American
war without apparent effect, although in truth he expressed opinions
commonly held by intelligent people. Even Lord Castlereagh, Cobbett’s
antipathy, shared some of Cobbett’s least popular opinions in the
matter of the American war.

English society, whatever shades of diversity might exist, was frank
and free in expressing indifference or contempt. Of the newspapers
which made a duty of reflecting what was believed to be the prevailing
public opinion, the “Times,” supposed to favor the interests of
Wellesley and Canning, was probably the ablest. During the early part
of the war, the “Times” showed a disposition to criticise the Ministry
rather than the Americans. From the “Times” came most of the bitter
complaints, widely copied by the American press, of the naval defeats
suffered by the “Guerriere,” the “Java,” and the “Macedonian.” British
successes were belittled, and abuse of Americans was exaggerated, in
order to deprive ministers of credit. “The world has seen President
Madison plunge into a war from the basest motives, and conduct it
with the most entire want of ability,” said the “Times” of February
9, 1813. “The American government has sounded the lowest depth of
military disgrace, insomuch that the official records of the campaign
take from us all possibility of exulting in our victories over such an
enemy.” The “Times” found in such reflections a reason for not exulting
in ministerial victories, but it bewailed defeats the more loudly,
and annoyed the Ministry by the violence of its attacks on naval
administration.

As the year passed, and England’s triumph in Europe seemed to
overshadow the world, the “Times,” probably recognizing the uselessness
of attacking the Ministry, showed worse temper toward the United
States. The Americans were rarely mentioned, and always with language
of increasing ill humor. “Despicable in the cabinet, ridiculous in the
field,”[461] the Americans disappeared from sight in the splendor of
victory at Vittoria and Leipzig. No wish for peace was suggested, and
if the “Times” expressed the true feelings of the respectable middle
class, as it was supposed to aim at doing, no wish for peace could be
supposed to exist.

Of the ministerial papers the “Courier” was the best, and of course was
emphatic in support of the American war. The Ministry were known to
be lukewarm about the United States, and for that reason they thought
themselves obliged to talk in public as strongly as the strongest
against a peace. When the Russian mediation called for notice, May 13,
the “Courier” at once declared against it:--

    “Before the war commenced, concession might have been proper; we
    always thought it unwise. But the hour of concession and compromise
    is passed. America has rushed unnecessarily and unnaturally
    into war, and she must be made to feel the effects of her folly
    and injustice; peace must be the consequence of punishment, and
    retraction of her insolent demands must precede negotiation. The
    thunders of our cannon must first strike terror into the American
    shores.”

The “Courier” felt that Americans were not Englishmen, and could not
forgive it, but was unable to admit that they might still exercise a
considerable influence on human affairs:--

    “They have added nothing to literature, nothing to any of
    the sciences; they have not produced one good poet, not one
    celebrated historian! Their statesmen are of a mixed breed,--half
    metaphysicians, half politicians; all the coldness of the one with
    all the cunning of the other. Hence we never see anything enlarged
    in their conceptions or grand in their measures.”[462]

These reasons were hardly sufficient to prove the right of impressing
American seamen. The literary, metaphysical, or social qualities
of Americans, their “enlarged conceptions,” and the grandeur or
littleness of their measures, had by common consent ceased to enter
into discussion, pending a settlement of the simpler issue, whether
Americans could fight. For a long time the English press encouraged the
belief that Americans were as incapable of fighting as of producing
poets and historians. Their naval victories were attributed to British
seamen. Perhaps the first turn of the tide was in November, 1813,
when news of Perry’s victory on Lake Erie crossed in London the news
of Napoleon’s defeat at Leipzig. Perry’s victory, like those of Hull,
Decatur, and Bainbridge, was too complete for dispute: “It may,
however, serve to diminish our vexation at this occurrence to learn
that the flotilla in question was not any branch of the British navy,
... but a local force, a kind of mercantile military.”[463]

By a curious coincidence, Castlereagh’s official letter to Monroe,
offering direct negotiation, was dated the same day, November 4,
when news of the victory at Leipzig met in London news of the defeat
on Lake Erie, and Castlereagh probably meant to allow no newspaper
prejudices to obstruct a peace; but public opinion was slow to recover
its balance. When news arrived that the Americans had captured Malden,
recovered Detroit, and destroyed Proctor’s army on the Thames, the
“Courier” showed the first symptom of change in opinion by expressing a
somewhat simple-minded wish to hear no more about the Americans:--

    “The intelligence is unpleasant, but we confess that we do not
    view, and have never from the beginning of the war viewed, the
    events in America with any very powerful interest. The occurrences
    in Europe will no doubt produce a very decisive effect upon the
    American government; and unless it is more obstinate and stupid
    in its hostility than even _we_ think it, it will do as the other
    allies of Bonaparte have done,--abandon him.”

If the national extravagance could be expected to show its full force
in one direction rather than in another, naturalized Americans taken
in arms were certain to produce it. The issue was regularly raised
after Van Rensselaer’s defeat at Queenston in 1812. When the American
prisoners arrived at Quebec, they were mustered, and twenty-three
native-born subjects of Great Britain, belonging to the First, Sixth,
and Thirteenth U. S. Infantry, were taken from the ranks and shipped to
England to be put on trial as British subjects for bearing arms against
their king. The American agent in London reported to the President that
the men had arrived there for the reason given. Secretary Armstrong,
May 15, 1813, then ordered twenty-three British soldiers into close
confinement as hostages. The British government directed Sir George
Prevost to put double the number of Americans in close confinement,
and Sir George, in giving notice of this measure to General Wilkinson,
October 17, 1813,[464] added:--

    “I have been further instructed by his Majesty’s government to
    notify to you for the information of the government of the United
    States that the commanders of his Majesty’s armies and fleets on
    the coasts of America have received instructions to prosecute
    the war with unmitigated severity against all cities, towns,
    and villages belonging to the United States, and against the
    inhabitants thereof, if, after this communication shall have been
    made to you, and a reasonable time given for its being transmitted
    to the American government, that government shall unhappily not be
    deterred from putting to death any of the soldiers who now are or
    who may hereafter be kept as hostages for the purposes stated in
    the letter from Major-General Dearborn.”

The limit of retaliation was soon reached, for the number of prisoners
was small on both sides. The British government somewhat carefully
refrained from committing itself too far; but the press treated the
matter as though it were vital.

    “If Mr. Madison,” said the “Courier” of July 24, “dare to retaliate
    by taking away the life of one English prisoner in revenge for a
    British subject fully proved to be such being taken in the act of
    voluntarily bearing arms against his country, America puts herself
    out of the protection of the law of nations, and must be treated
    as an outlaw. An army and navy acting against her will then be
    absolved from all obligation to respect the usages and laws of war.
    Hostilities may be carried on against her in any mode until she is
    brought to a proper sense of her conduct.”

The “Morning Post” of December 28 called for the execution of British
subjects taken in arms, and for retaliation on retaliation in defiance
of “the brutal wretches who, after betraying, are still suffered
to govern America.” The “Times” of May 24 spoke with hardly less
vehemence. Probably such talk was not shared by the government, for
the government never tested its sincerity by bringing the men to
trial; but at the close of 1813 public opinion in England was supposed
to be tending toward extreme measures against the United States. The
approaching fall of Napoleon threatened to throw America outside the
pale of civilization. Englishmen seemed ready to accept the idea that
Madison and Napoleon should be coupled together, and that no peace
should be made which did not include the removal of both from office
and power. Of all periods in American history this was probably the
least adapted to negotiation, but while England was at the moment of
her most extravagant sense of power, President Madison received and
accepted Castlereagh’s offer to negotiate, and Gallatin went with
Bayard to London to hasten the approach of peace.




CHAPTER XV.


CONGRESS assembled Dec. 6, 1813, at a time of general perplexity.
The victories of Perry and Harrison, September 10 and October 5, had
recovered Detroit and even conquered a part of West Canada, but their
successes were already dimmed by the failures of Wilkinson and Hampton
before Montreal, and the retreat of both generals November 13 within
United States territory. In the Creek country the Georgians had failed
to advance from the east, and Jackson was stopped at Fort Strother
by want of supplies and men. At sea the navy was doing little, while
the British blockade from New London southward was becoming more and
more ruinous to the Southern and Middle States, and through them to
the government. Abroad the situation was not yet desperate. The latest
news from Europe left Napoleon at Dresden, victorious for the moment,
before the great battles of October. From the American commissioners
at St. Petersburg no news had arrived, but England’s refusal to accept
mediation was unofficially known. With this material the President was
obliged to content himself in framing his Annual Message.

The Message sent to Congress December 7 began by expressing regret that
the British government had disappointed the reasonable anticipation
of discussing and, if possible, adjusting the rights and pretensions
in dispute. From France nothing had been received on the subjects of
negotiation. Madison congratulated Congress on the success of the navy
upon the ocean and the Lakes, and the victory won by Harrison and R. M.
Johnson in Canada. He mentioned briefly the failure of the armies on
the St. Lawrence, and at greater length the success of Jackson on
the Coosa; and he entered in detail into the retaliatory measures
taken on either side in regard to naturalized soldiers. The finances
were treated with more show of confidence than was warranted by the
prospects of the Treasury; and the Message closed by a succession of
paragraphs which seemed written in a spirit of panegyric upon war:--

    “The war has proved moreover that our free government like other
    free governments, though slow in its early movements, acquires in
    its progress a force proportioned to its freedom; and that the
    Union of these States, the guardian of the freedom and safety of
    all and of each, is strengthened by every occasion that puts it to
    the test. In fine, the war with its vicissitudes is illustrating
    the capacity and the destiny of the United States to be a great, a
    flourishing, and a powerful nation.”

The rule that feeble and incompetent governments acquire strength by
exercise, and especially in war, had been as well understood in 1798 as
it was in 1813, and had been the chief cause of Republican antipathy
to war; but had Madison publicly expressed the same sentiment in 1798
as in 1813, he would have found himself in a better position to enforce
the rights for which he was struggling when the extreme discontent of
nearly one third of the States contradicted his congratulations on “the
daily testimony of increasing harmony throughout the Union.” Whatever
the ultimate result of the war might be, it had certainly not thus far
strengthened the Union. On the contrary, public opinion seemed to be
rapidly taking the shape that usually preceded a rupture of friendly
relations between political societies. Elections in the Middle States
showed that the war, if not actually popular, had obliged the people
there to support the government for fear of worse evils. New Jersey by
a small majority returned to its allegiance, and the city of New York
elected a Republican to represent it in Congress; but the steady drift
of opinion in the Middle States toward the war was simultaneous with an
equally steady drift in the Eastern States against it.

The evidences of chronic discontent in the Eastern States were
notorious. Less than a month before Madison wrote his Annual Message,
Governor Chittenden of Vermont, by proclamation November 10, recalled
the State militia from national service:[465]

    “He cannot conscientiously discharge the trust reposed in him by
    the voice of his fellow-citizens, and by the Constitution of
    this and the United States, without an unequivocal declaration
    that in his opinion the military strength and resources of
    this State must be reserved for its own defence and protection
    exclusively, excepting in cases provided for by the Constitution
    of the United States, and then under orders derived only from the
    commander-in-chief.”

The intercourse between the Eastern States and the enemy was notorious.
The Federalist press of Massachusetts, encouraged by Russian and
English success in Europe, discussed the idea of withdrawing the State
from all share in the war, and making a separate arrangement with
England. The President’s first act, after sending to Congress his
Annual Message, was to send a special Message incidentally calling
attention to the want of harmony that paralyzed the energy of the
government.

The special and secret Message of December 9 asked Congress once more
to impose an embargo. Considering the notorious antipathy of the
Eastern States to the system of embargo, the new experiment was so
hazardous as to require proof of its necessity. That it was directed
against the commerce of the New England States was evident, for the
blockade answered the purposes of embargo elsewhere. The Message
seemed to propose that all commerce should cease because any commerce
must favor the enemy; in effect, it urged that New England should
be forbidden to sell or buy so long as the rest of the country was
prevented from doing so.

    “The tendency of our commercial and navigation laws in their
    present state to favor the enemy,” said Madison,[466] “and thereby
    prolong the war, is more and more developed by experience. Supplies
    of the most essential kinds find their way not only to British
    ports and British armies at a distance, but the armies in our
    neighborhood with which our own are contending derive from our
    ports and outlets a subsistence attainable with difficulty if at
    all from other sources. Even the fleets and troops infesting our
    coasts and waters are by like supplies accommodated and encouraged
    in their predatory and incursive warfare. Abuses having a like
    tendency take place in our import trade. British fabrics and
    products find their way into our ports under the name and from the
    ports of other countries, and often in British vessels disguised
    as neutrals by false colors and papers.... To shorten as much as
    possible the duration of the war, it is indispensable that the
    enemy should feel all the pressure that can be given to it.”

Although Madison pointed to the notorious supply of food for the
British forces in Canada as one of the motives for imposing an embargo,
no one supposed that motive to be decisive. Other laws already forbade
and punished such communication with the enemy; and experience proved
that a general embargo would be no more effective than any special
prohibition. The idea that England could be distressed by an embargo
seemed still less likely to influence Government. Congress knew that
Russia, Prussia, Denmark, Sweden and Norway, Spain, and South America
were already open to English commerce, and that a few days must decide
whether Napoleon could much longer prevent Great Britain from trading
with France. The possibility of distressing England by closing Boston
and Salem, New Bedford and Newport to neutral ships was not to be
seriously treated.

Whatever was the true motive of the President’s recommendation,
Congress instantly approved it. The next day, December 10, the House
went into secret session, and after two days of debate passed an
Embargo Act by a vote of eighty-five to fifty-seven, which quickly
passed the Senate by a vote of twenty to fourteen, and received the
President’s approval December 17, being the first legislation adopted
at the second session of the Thirteenth Congress.[467] The Act was at
once enforced with so much severity that within a month Congress was
obliged to consider and quickly adopted another Act[468] relieving
from its operation the people of Nantucket, who were in a state of
starvation, all communication with the main land having been forbidden
by the law; but nothing proved that the illicit communication with
Canada ceased.

This beginning of legislation at a time when the crisis of the war
could be plainly seen approaching suggested much besides want of
harmony. The embargo strengthened the antipathy of New England to
the war,--a result sufficiently unfortunate; but it also led to a
number of other consequences that were doubtless foreseen by the
Administration, since they were prophesied by the Federalists. The Act
was approved December 17. Hardly had it gone into operation when the
British schooner “Bramble” arrived at Annapolis, December 30, bringing
a letter from Castlereagh to Monroe offering to negotiate directly,
though declining mediation. Important as this news was, it did not
compare with that in the newspapers brought by the “Bramble.” These
contained official reports from Germany of great battles fought at
Leipzig October 16, 18, and 19, in which the allies had overwhelmed
Napoleon in defeat so disastrous that any hope of his continuing to
make head against them in Germany was at an end. Except France, the
whole continent of Europe already was open to British commerce, or soon
must admit it. From that moment the New England Federalists no longer
doubted their own power. Their tone rose; their opposition to the war
became more threatening; their schemes ceased to be negative, and began
to include plans for positive interference; and the embargo added
strength to their hatred of Madison and the Union.

Madison was seldom quick in changing his views, but the battle of
Leipzig was an event so portentous that optimism could not face it.
Other depressing news poured in. Fort George was evacuated; Fort
Niagara was disgracefully lost; Lewiston, Black Rock, and Buffalo were
burned, and the region about Niagara was laid waste; blue lights were
seen at New London. Every prospect was dark, but the battle of Leipzig
was fatal to the last glimmer of hope that England could be brought to
reason, or that New England could be kept quiet. A change of policy
could not safely be delayed.

Castlereagh’s offer was instantly accepted. January 5 Monroe replied,
with some complaint at the refusal of mediation, that the President
acceded to the offer of negotiating at Gothenburg. The next day Madison
sent the correspondence to Congress, with a warning not to relax
“vigorous preparations for carrying on the war.” A week afterward,
January 14, he nominated J. Q. Adams, J. A. Bayard, Henry Clay, and
Jonathan Russell as commissioners to negotiate directly with Great
Britain, and the Senate confirmed the nominations, January 18, with
little opposition except to Jonathan Russell’s further nomination as
Minister to Sweden, which was confirmed by the narrow vote of sixteen
to fourteen. Three weeks later, February 8, Albert Gallatin was added
to the commission, George W. Campbell being nominated to the Treasury.

The prompt acceptance of Castlereagh’s offer, the addition of Henry
Clay to the negotiators, and the removal of Gallatin from the Treasury
showed that diplomacy had resumed more than its old importance. The
hope of peace might serve to quiet New England for a time, but mere
hope with so little to nourish it could not long pacify any one, if
the embargo was to remain in force. Several signs indicated there
also a change of policy. Besides the embargo, and in support of its
restrictions, Madison had recommended the passage of bills prohibiting
collusive captures, ransoming vessels captured by the enemy, and
interference by the courts, as well as the introduction of British
woollens, cottons, and spirits. The bill prohibiting woollens and other
articles was reported to the Senate December 30, the day when the
“Bramble” reached Annapolis. The Senate waited nearly a month, till
January 27, and then passed the bill, January 31, by a vote of sixteen
to twelve. The House referred it to the Committee on Foreign Relations
February 3, where it remained. On the other hand, the bill prohibiting
ransoms was introduced in the House December 30, and passed January 26
by a vote of eighty to fifty-seven. The Senate referred it January 28
to the Committee on Foreign Relations, which never reported it. The
fate of these measures foreshadowed the destiny of the embargo.

Yet the President clung to his favorite measure with a degree
of obstinacy that resembled desperation. Congress showed by its
indifference to the two supplementary bills that it had abandoned the
President’s system as early as January, but the embargo continued
throughout the winter, and the month of March passed without its
removal. The news from Europe at the close of that month left no doubt
that Napoleon could offer little effectual resistance even in France
to the allies, whose armies were known to have crossed the Rhine,
while Wellington advanced on Bordeaux. Holland was restored to her
ancient independence, and Napoleon was understood to have accepted in
principle, for a proposed Congress at Mannheim, the old boundaries of
France as a basis of negotiation. In theory, the overthrow of Napoleon
should have not essentially affected the embargo or the Non-importation
Acts, which were expected to press upon England independently of
Napoleon’s Continental system; but in practice the embargo having
produced no apparent effect on Europe during the war, could not be
expected to produce an effect after England had succeeded in conquering
France, and had abandoned her blockades as France had abandoned her
decrees. For that reason avowedly Madison at last yielded, and sent
a Message to Congress March 31, recommending that the system of
commercial restriction should cease:--

    “Taking into view the mutual interests which the United States and
    the foreign nations in amity with her have in a liberal commercial
    intercourse, and the extensive changes favorable thereto which
    have recently taken place; taking into view also the important
    advantages which may otherwise result from adapting the state of
    our commercial laws to the circumstances now existing,”--

Taking into view only these influences, Madison seemed to ignore the
supposed chief motive of the embargo in stopping supplies for Canada,
and to admit that embargo was an adjunct of Napoleon’s Continental
system; but in truth Madison’s motives, both political and financial,
were deeper and more decisive than any he alleged. His retreat was
absolute. He recommended that Congress should throw open the ports, and
should abandon all restriction on commerce beyond a guaranty of war
duties for two years after peace as a measure of protection to American
manufactures. The failure of the restrictive system was not disguised.

The House received the Message with a mixed sense of relief and
consternation, and referred it to Calhoun’s committee, which reported
April 4 a bill for repealing the Embargo and Non-importation Acts,
together with the reasons which led the committee to unite with the
Executive in abandoning the restrictive system.

Calhoun had always opposed the commercial policy of Jefferson and
Madison. For him the sudden Executive change was a conspicuous triumph;
but he showed remarkable caution in dealing with the House. Instead of
attempting to coerce the majority, according to his habit, by the force
of abstract principles, he adopted Madison’s reasoning and softened his
own tone, seeming disposed to coax his Southern and Western friends
from making a display of useless ill-temper. “Men cannot go straight
forward,” he said, “but must regard the obstacles which impede their
course. Inconsistency consists in a change of conduct when there is no
change of circumstances which justify it.” The changes in the world’s
circumstances required a return to free trade; but the manufactures
would not be left unprotected,--on the contrary, “he hoped at all times
and under every policy they would be protected with due care.”[469]

As an example of political inconsistency, as Calhoun defined it, his
pledge to protect American manufactures deserved to be remembered;
but hardly had Calhoun’s words died on the echoes of the House when
another distinguished statesman offered a prospective example even
more striking of what Calhoun excused. Daniel Webster rose, and in
the measured and sonorous tones which impressed above all the idea of
steadfastness in character, he pronounced a funeral oration over the
restrictive system:--

    “It was originally offered to the people of this country as a kind
    of political faith; it was to be believed, not examined; ... it was
    to be our political salvation, nobody knew exactly how; and any
    departure from it would lead to political ruin, nobody could tell
    exactly why.”

Its opponents had uniformly contended that it was auxiliary to
Napoleon’s Continental system, in co-operation with Napoleon’s
government; and its abandonment with the fall of Napoleon showed the
truth. While thus exulting in the overthrow of the first “American
system,” Webster qualified his triumph by adding that he was,
“generally speaking,” not the enemy of manufactures; he disliked only
the rearing them in hot-beds:--

    “I am not in haste to see Sheffields and Birminghams in America....
    I am not anxious to accelerate the approach of the period when
    the great mass of American labor shall not find its employment in
    the field; when the young men of the country shall be obliged to
    shut their eyes upon external Nature,--upon the heavens and the
    earth,--and immerse themselves in close and unwholesome workshops;
    when they shall be obliged to shut their ears to the bleatings of
    their own flocks upon their own hills, and to the voice of the lark
    that cheers them at the plough, that they may open them in dust and
    smoke and steam, to the perpetual whirl of spools and spindles and
    the grating of rasps and saws.”

Potter of Rhode Island, where the new manufactures centred, spoke hotly
against the change. Much Federalist capital had been drawn into the
manufacturing business as well as into speculation in all articles of
necessity which the blockade and the embargo made scarce. At heart
the Federalists were not unanimous in wishing for a repeal of the
restrictive system, and Potter represented a considerable class whose
interests were involved in maintaining high prices. He admitted that
the average duties would still give American manufactures an advantage
of thirty-six per cent, without including freight and marine risks, but
he insisted that the bill was intended to encourage importations of
British goods “that we do not want and can do very well without, in
order to raise a revenue from the people in an indirect way.”

Probably Potter’s explanation of the change in system was correct.
The necessities of the Treasury were doubtless a decisive cause of
Madison’s step; but these necessities were foreseen by the Federalists
when Madison recommended the embargo, and the neglect to give them due
weight exposed the Administration to grave reproach. “A government
which cannot administer the affairs of a nation,” said Webster,
“without producing so frequent and such violent alterations in the
ordinary occupations and pursuits of private life, has in my opinion
little claim to the regard of the community.”

The Republicans made no attempt to defend themselves from such
criticisms. Among the small number who refused to follow Calhoun was
Macon, who sat in his seat during the debate writing to his friend
Judge Nicholson.

    “Those who voted the embargo so very lately,” he said,[470] “and
    those or him who recommended it must, I think, feel a little sore
    under Webster’s rubs.... I have not for a long time seen the Feds
    look in so good humor. They have all a smile on their countenances,
    and look at each other as if they were the men which had brought
    this great and good work about.... The Republicans have not the
    most pleasing countenances. Those who support the bill do not look
    gay or very much delighted with their majority, and those who
    expect to be in the minority have a melancholy gloom over their
    faces.”

That the system of commercial restrictions had failed was admitted, but
the failure carried no conviction of error to its friends. Physical
force had also apparently failed. The Southern Republicans had no
choice but to adopt strong measures, giving to the government powers
which in their opinion they had no constitutional right to confer; but
they remained unshaken in their opinions.

    “I confess to you,” wrote Macon, “that the parties seem by their
    acts to be approaching each other, and I fear that tough times is
    a strong argument with many of us to stretch the Constitution; and
    the difference between expediency and constitutionality becomes
    every day less. Notwithstanding this, I do not despair of the
    republic, because my dependence has always been on the people; and
    their influence was felt in laying the embargo, and probably that
    of the Executive in repealing it.”

No one understood or represented so well as Macon the instincts and
ideas of the Southern people at that time, and he never represented
them more truly than in the matter of the embargo. Virginia and the
Carolinas were with him at heart. Macon’s hopes for the republic
depended on his confidence in the people; and that confidence in its
turn depended on his belief that the people were still true to a dogma
which the Government had abandoned as impracticable. The belief was
well founded, as the course of events proved. The House, April 7, by
a vote of one hundred and fifteen to thirty-seven, passed the bill
repealing the Embargo and Non-importation Acts; the Senate also passed
it, April 12, by a vote of twenty-six to four; the President, April
14, approved it; and from that day the restrictive system, which had
been the cardinal point of Jefferson’s and Madison’s statesmanship,
seemed to vanish from the public mind and the party politics of the
country. Yet so deeply riveted was the idea of its efficacy among the
Southern people, that at the next great crisis of their history they
staked their lives and fortunes on the same belief of their necessity
to Europe which had led them into the experiment of coercing Napoleon
and Canning by commercial deprivations; and their second experiment had
results still more striking than those which attended their first.

The explanation of this curious popular trait certainly lay in the
nature of Southern society; but the experience was common to the whole
Union. When the restrictive system was abandoned of necessity in
April, 1814, it had brought the country to the verge of dissolution.
The Government could neither make war nor peace; the public seemed
indifferent or hostile; and the same traits which characterized the
restrictive system continued to paralyze the efforts of Congress to
adopt more energetic methods.

    “I will yet hope we may have no more war,” wrote Mrs. Madison to
    Mrs. Gallatin Jan. 7, 1814.[471] “If we do, alas! alas! we are not
    making ready as we ought to do. Congress trifle away the most
    precious of their days,--days that ought to be devoted to the
    defence of their divided country.”

Mrs. Madison doubtless echoed the language she heard used at the White
House; yet the leaders of Congress were neither triflers nor idlers,
and they did all that public opinion permitted. Within a week after
Mrs. Madison’s complaint, the military committee of the House reported
a bill for encouraging enlistments. Viewed as a means of embodying the
whole military strength of the republic to resist the whole military
strength of Great Britain, about to be released from service in Europe,
Troup’s bill[472] was not an efficient measure; but it terrified
Congress.

During the campaign of 1813, as the story has shown, the Government
never succeeded in placing more than ten or eleven thousand effective
rank-and-file in the field in a single body. About as many more were
in garrison, and the sick-list was always large. Armstrong reported to
the Ways and Means Committee that the aggregate strength of the army
in February, 1813, was 18,945; in June, 27,609; in December, 34,325;
and Jan. 17, 1814, it was 33,822.[473] Discouraging as this report was,
it concealed the worst part of the situation. In truth, the abstract
furnished by the adjutant-general’s office gave the number of regular
troops in service for January, 1814, not as 33,822, but as 23,614;
and to the return a note was appended, explaining that “although the
numerical force in January, 1814, was 23,614, the actual strength of
the army at that time was less than half that number, arising from the
expiration of the term of service of the troops raised in 1809 and
enlisted for five years, and of the twelve and eighteen-months men
enlisted in 1812–1813.”[474] The establishment consisted of 58,254 men
authorized by law; but the legal establishment was not half filled.
The European news showed that England would soon be able to reinforce
her army in Canada and take the offensive. Instead of sixty thousand
men, Armstrong needed twice that number for a moderately safe defence,
since every part of the sea-coast stood at the enemy’s mercy, and no
adequate defence was possible which did not include an offensive return
somewhere on the Canadian frontier. Needing more than one hundred
thousand,--authorized by law to enlist sixty thousand,--he could
depend on less than thirty thousand men. Yet so far from attempting to
increase the establishment, Armstrong hoped only to fill the ranks.

Troup’s bill aimed at that object, purporting to be “A Bill making
further provision for filling of the ranks of the regular army.” No
system of draft was suggested. Troup’s committee proposed to treble the
bounty rather than raise the pay,--a system which might be economical
in a long war; but if the war should last only one year, the soldier
must gain four fifths of his bounty without return. Troup first
suggested one hundred dollars as bounty, which Congress raised to one
hundred and twenty-four dollars, together with three hundred and twenty
acres of land as already fixed. The pay of privates remained at ten
dollars. Twenty-four dollars of the bounty was to be paid only on the
soldier’s discharge. Recruiting-agents were to receive eight dollars
for each recruit.

Such a provision for filling the ranks could not be called excessive.
Even if the whole bounty were added to the pay, and the soldier were to
serve but twelve months, he would receive only twenty dollars a month
and his land-certificate. If he served his whole term of five years,
he received little more than twelve dollars a month. The inducement
was not great in such a community as the United States. The chance
that such a measure would fill the ranks was small; yet the measure
seemed extravagant to a party that had formerly pledged itself against
mercenary armies.

If the bill showed the timidity of the Republicans, it called out
worse qualities in the Federalists. The speeches of the opposition
were for the most part general in their criticisms and denunciations,
and deserved little attention; but that of Daniel Webster was doubly
interesting, because Webster was not only the ablest but among the
most cautious of his party. His speech[475] suggested much of the
famous eloquence of his later oratory, but dwelt on ideas to which his
later life was opposed, and followed lines of argument surprising in
a statesman of his great intellectual powers. His chief theme was the
duty of government to wage only a defensive war, except on the ocean.
“Give up your futile projects of invasion. Extinguish the fires that
blaze on your inland frontiers.” He wished the government to use its
forces only to repel invasion.

    “The enemy, as we have seen, can make no permanent stand in any
    populous part of the country. Its citizens will drive back his
    forces to the line; but at that line where defence ceases and
    invasion begins, they stop. They do not pass it because they do not
    choose to pass it. Offering no serious obstacle to their actual
    power, it rises like a Chinese wall against their sentiments and
    their feelings.”

This advice, which echoed a Federalist idea reasonable or excusable
in 1812, was out of place in January, 1814. The battles of Leipzig
and Vittoria had settled the question of offensive and defensive in
Canada. The offensive had passed into British hands, and a successful
defence was all that the United States could hope. The interests of New
England as well as of New York and of the whole Union required that
the defensive campaign should, if possible, be fought on Canadian soil
rather than at Plattsburg, Washington, or New Orleans; and even the
most extreme Federalist could scarcely be believed blind to an idea so
obvious.

Moderate as the bill was, fifty-eight members voted against it, while
ninety-seven voted in its favor. In the Senate the bill passed without
a division, and received, January 27, the President’s approval.
Meanwhile the Senate passed bills for converting the twelve-months
regiments into regiments enlisted for the war, as well as for raising
three rifle regiments for the same term, and any number of volunteers
that in the President’s opinion the public service required, offering
to all recruits for these corps the same inducements as to the regular
regiments. These bills produced another and a longer debate, but were
passed without serious opposition. No further addition was made to the
regular army, and no other effort to obtain recruits.

Thus organized, the army consisted of forty-six regiments of infantry
enlisted for five years,--four rifle regiments; an artillery corps and
a regiment of light artillery; a regiment of dragoons; the engineer
corps, the rangers, and sea-fencibles,--an aggregate of 62,773 men
authorized by law, an increase of only five thousand men over that of
the previous year.

The appropriations for the military establishment amounted to nearly
twenty-five million dollars, the Federalists alone voting against them.
The naval appropriations amounted to seven millions, and were voted
without opposition. The Secretary of the Navy discouraged the building
of more cruisers, owing to want of timber and seamen; but Congress
showed more than ordinary sagacity by appropriating half a million
dollars for the construction of floating batteries with steam-power.

Such provision for the coming campaign offered little evidence of
increasing energy to make head against the vastly increased military
and naval power of England; but the financial outlook was much worse
than the military, and Congress dared not face it. The acting Secretary
of the Treasury, William Jones, sent his annual report to the House
January 8, and so far as his balance-sheet went, no difficulties were
apparent. He had disbursed thirty million dollars during the past
fiscal year, and needed nearly forty millions for the current year.
These sums were not excessive when compared with the wealth of the
country or its exertions at other periods of national danger. Half a
century afterward the people of the Southern States, not much more
numerous than the people of the Union in 1812, and with a far larger
proportion of slaves, supported during four years the burden of an
army numbering nearly five hundred thousand men. For the same period
the Northern people, not much exceeding twenty millions in number,
lent their government more than five hundred million dollars a year.
The efforts of 1864, proportioned to the population, were nearly ten
times as great as those of 1814, when Secretary Jones looked with
well-founded alarm at the prospect of borrowing thirty millions for the
year, and of maintaining an army which could scarcely be expected to
number forty thousand rank-and-file.

The United States, with a proper currency and untouched resources,
should have found no serious difficulty in borrowing thirty or even
fifty millions a year in 1814; but they were in reality on the verge
of bankruptcy, although the national resources were probably ample.
The amount of private capital available for loans was uncertain, and
the amount of circulating medium was equally doubtful. Timothy Pitkin
of Connecticut, perhaps the best authority in Congress, thought that
the paid bank capital of the United States did not much exceed sixty
millions,[476] and that the notes of these banks in circulation did not
reach thirty millions. His estimate of paid bank capital was probably
liberal, but his estimate of the circulation was eight or ten millions
too small. Had the Treasury been able to count on the use of these
resources, they might have answered all necessary purposes; but between
the mistakes of the government and the divisions of the people, the
Treasury was left with no sound resources whatever.

The first and fatal blow to the Treasury was the loss of the Bank
of the United States, which left the government without financial
machinery or a sound bank-note circulation. The next blow, almost
equally severe, was the loss of the Massachusetts and Connecticut
banks, which were the strongest in the Union. Whether the
responsibility for the loss rested on the Executive, Congress, or the
two States might be a subject for dispute; but whoever was responsible,
the effect was ruinous. The New England banks were financial agents
of the enemy. The bank capital of Massachusetts including Maine was
about twelve and a quarter million dollars; that of Connecticut
exceeded three millions. The whole bank capital of New England reached
eighteen millions,[477] or nearly one third of the paid bank capital
of the whole country, if Pitkin’s estimate was correct. That nearly
one third of the national resources should be withdrawn from the aid
of government was serious enough; but in reality the loss was much
greater, for New England held a still larger proportion of the specie
on which the bank circulation of other States depended.

The system of commercial restrictions was responsible for thus, at
the most critical moment of the war, throwing the control of the
national finances into the hands of the Boston Federalists. Against
the protests of the Federalists, manufactures had been forced upon
them by national legislation until New England supplied the Union
with articles of necessary use at prices practically fixed by her own
manufacturers. From the whole country specie began to flow toward
Boston as early as the year 1810, and with astonishing rapidity after
the war was declared. The British blockade stimulated the movement,
and the embargo of December, 1813, which lasted till April, 1814, cut
off every other resource from the Southern and Western States. Unable
longer to send their crops even to New England for a market, they were
obliged to send specie, and they soon came to the end of their supply.
The Massachusetts banks, which reported about $820,000 in specie in
1809, returned more than $3,680,000 in June, 1812; which rose to
$5,780,000 in June, 1813, and reached nearly $7,000,000 in June, 1814.
In five years the Massachusetts banks alone drew more than six million
dollars in specie from the Southern and Middle States,[478] besides
what they sent to Canada in payment for British bills.

No one knew how much specie the country contained. Gallatin afterward
estimated it at seventeen million dollars,[479] and of that amount the
banks of New England in 1814 probably held nearly ten millions. The
Massachusetts banks, with seven millions in specie, had a bank-note
circulation of less than three millions. The Middle, Southern, and
Western States must have had a bank-note circulation approaching forty
millions in paper, with seven or eight millions in specie to support
it,[480] while the paper was constantly increasing in quantity and the
specie constantly diminishing. Bank paper, as was believed, could not
with safety exceed the proportion of three paper dollars to every
specie dollar in the bank vaults; but the banks in 1814 beyond New
England were circulating at least four paper dollars to every silver
or gold dollar, and in many cases were issuing paper without specie in
their possession.

Already the banks of New England were pressing their demands on those
of New York, which in their turn called on Philadelphia and Baltimore.
The specie drained to New England could find its way back only by means
of government loans, which New England refused to make in any large
amount. On the other hand, Boston bought freely British Treasury notes
at liberal discount, and sent coin to Canada in payment of them.[481]
Probably New England lent to the British government during the war more
money than she lent to her own. The total amount subscribed in New
England to the United States loans was less than three millions.

This situation was well understood by Congress. In the debate of
February, 1814, the approaching dangers were repeatedly pointed out.
The alarm was then so great that the Committee of Ways and Means
reported a bill to incorporate a new national bank with a capital of
thirty million dollars, while Macon openly advocated the issue of
government paper,[482] declaring that “paper money never was beat.”
Congress after a diffuse debate passed only a loan bill for twenty-five
millions, and an Act for the issue of five million interest-bearing
Treasury notes, leaving with the President the option to issue five
millions more in case he could not borrow it. The legislation was
evidently insufficient, and satisfied no one. “You have authorized a
loan for twenty-five millions,” said Grundy in the debate of April 2,
“and have provided for the expenditure of so much money. Where is the
money?”

Without attempting to answer this question, April 18 Congress
adjourned.




CHAPTER XVI.


WHILE Congress was thus employed, much occurred behind the scenes that
bore directly on the movements of war. The French minister, Serurier,
alone made official reports, and his letters became less interesting
as his importance diminished; but occasionally he still threw a ray
of light on Madison’s troubles. At midsummer in 1813 he was in high
spirits.

    “Within the past week,” Serurier wrote, July 21, 1813,[483] “we
    have received, one after another, news of the fresh successes at
    the beginning of the campaign,--the battle of Lützen, the offer of
    armistice, and the battle of Bautzen. These events, so glorious for
    France, have been so many thunder-strokes for the enemy in America.
    Their consternation is equal to their previous confidence, which
    had no bounds. The Republicans of Congress, on the other hand, have
    received these news in triumph. All have come to congratulate me,
    and have told me that they, not less than we, had been victorious
    at Lützen. The ascendency, henceforward irresistible, which his
    Majesty is acquiring over his enemies, will, I hope, supply a
    little tone and vigor to this Government, which had need of them.”

When the President returned to Washington, Oct. 25, 1813, Serurier
reported with less enthusiasm, but still with confidence, that Madison
remained firm:

    “He expressed himself in very proper, though very measured,
    terms on the monstrous coalition that has been renewed against
    his Majesty. I remarked to him that among our advantages we must
    doubtless count the fact that the coalition had ten heads, while
    France had but one. ‘And what a powerful head!’ replied the
    President, instantly, with less grace than conviction in his whole
    countenance.”

The vigor of Napoleon postponed for a few months the total downfall of
Serurier’s influence, but it slowly waned, and he became more and more
grateful for consideration shown him. The President’s Annual Message,
December 7, met his approval. “All agree that nothing more energetic or
more warlike has yet come from Mr. Madison’s Cabinet.”[484] The secret
Message of December 9 and the embargo pleased him more.

    “Mr. Monroe assured me three days ago,” continued Serurier, writing
    December 10, “that the Government had been informed of supplies to
    the extent of nearly thirty thousand barrels of flour furnished
    to Canada from ports of the United States. A rigorous embargo
    can alone prevent such criminal speculations, and give the war a
    decisive character which will shorten its duration and assure its
    success.... In this affair is seen a new proof of Mr. Madison’s
    obstinacy (_roideur_) which prevents him from abandoning a measure
    he has once put forward, and judges to be for the public interest.”

The arrival of the “Bramble” with news of the battle of Leipzig, and
with Castlereagh’s offer to negotiate, left Serurier helpless. “In
this state of things,” he wrote,[485] January 14, “it would have been
difficult for the Executive to refuse to negotiate; and I cannot but
think that he accedes to it only with regret and without illusions.”
In deference to Serurier’s opinion, the President appointed Henry
Clay as commissioner to treat for peace rather than Crawford, then
American envoy to Napoleon; but in the last week of March news arrived
from Bordeaux to February 10, announcing that the allies had reached
Troyes and were advancing on Paris, while Napoleon had accepted their
conditions of negotiation.

    “For the moment the public believed everything to be lost,”
    reported Serurier, April 15.[486] “I ought in justice to say that
    the President and his Cabinet showed more coolness and did not
    share the universal alarm, and that they continued to show me great
    confidence in the Emperor’s genius. I did not find them excessively
    disturbed by the march of the allies, or doubtful of our power
    to repulse them; but I know that his Majesty’s adhesion to the
    preliminary conditions of the allies, and yet more the Congress of
    Chatillon, and the irresistible influence necessarily acquired for
    the British minister, greatly (_vivement_) alarmed Mr. Madison.
    He thought he saw, in the announcement of our adoption of those
    conditions, our renunciation of every kind of power and control
    over Spain and Germany, where England was to rule. He believed
    that a peace, dictated by Lord Castlereagh, must already have been
    signed, and that the United States were to remain alone on the
    field of battle. It was then that Mr. Madison, abruptly and without
    having in any way prepared the public for it, addressed to Congress
    the Message recommending an immediate repeal of the embargo and a
    partial repeal of the non-importation.”

While Serurier explained the suddenness of Madison’s action by the need
of conciliating the Continental powers and the manufacturing cities of
England, he added that domestic difficulties had a large share in the
decision. Contraband trade had become general in the Eastern States.
A sort of civil war, he said, was beginning between the officers of
customs and the smugglers; the Government also felt serious anxiety for
the success of its loan, and began to doubt its ability to maintain
payments for the army and navy. Revenue had become necessary. Such
was the terror caused by the French news that the capitalists who had
offered to contract for the loan began to withdraw their offers and to
say that it was no longer practicable. “Analyze it as you please,”
said Serurier, “you will still find that it was the passage of the
Rhine and the progress of the allies in France which, in spite of all
I could say, decided this retrograde movement of a Government which I
have hitherto always found firm, wise, and consequent. But fear does
not reason.”

Serurier failed even to obtain permission for French letters-of-marque
to be received with their prizes in American ports. The President
recommended it to Congress, but Monroe told Serurier that the committee
of Congress had not dared to make a report, being persuaded that it
would be rejected.[487] “Mr. Monroe agreed to all I said; granted
that Congress was in the wrong, and I entirely in the right; but
nevertheless Congress has adjourned without considering the question.”
Serurier was disposed to advise the withdrawal by France of the
liberties granted to American privateers,--a measure which, he might
almost have foreseen, was likely in any case soon to be taken.

With the repeal of the embargo ended the early period of United
States history, when diplomatists played a part at Washington equal
in importance to that of the Legislature or the Executive. The
statecraft of Jefferson and Madison was never renewed. Thenceforward
the government ceased to balance between great foreign Powers, and
depended on its own resources. As far as diplomacy had still a part to
play in the year 1814, its field of action was in Europe; and there the
ablest men in civil life were sent. Gallatin, Bayard, J. Q. Adams, and
Crawford were already on the spot; and Henry Clay, after, resigning the
Speaker’s chair, Jan. 19, 1814, sailed for Gothenburg to take part in
the negotiation.

President Madison sought in vain for men of equal ability to supply
the gaps made by transferring so many of his strongest supporters to
Europe. The House of Representatives, January 19, elected Langdon
Cheves Speaker; but the choice was a defeat for Madison, whose friends
supported Felix Grundy. The Federalists, joining those Republicans who
were hostile to commercial restrictions, numbered ninety-four against
fifty-nine votes for Grundy,--and the success of Cheves foreshadowed
the overthrow of the embargo. In providing for other vacancies the
President fared worse. Cheves was a man of ability, and in general
policy was a friend of the Administration; but most of the other
material upon which the President must depend was greatly inferior to
Cheves. The Cabinet needed partial reconstruction, and Madison was at a
loss for choice.

The President’s favorite candidate for the Treasury, after Gallatin
showed his determination to remain abroad, was Alexander James Dallas
of Pennsylvania. Dallas was one of Gallatin’s strongest personal
friends, an old Republican, and a lawyer of undoubted ability. Born in
Jamaica in 1759, like Gallatin and Hamilton he had become a citizen
of the United States before the Constitution or the confederation was
adopted. He had been a leader of the Republican party in Federalist
times, and was made district-attorney of Pennsylvania by Jefferson; but
Duane and the “Aurora” destroyed his influence and left him isolated.
In Pennsylvania Dallas commanded no support. Both the senators, Leib
and Lacock, opposed his appointment to the Treasury, and were able to
procure his rejection had Madison ventured to make it.[488]

Obliged to abandon Dallas, the President offered the appointment
to Richard Rush, the comptroller, who declined it. At last Madison
pitched upon G. W. Campbell, of Tennessee. Since Crawford’s departure
Campbell had represented the Administration in the Senate, but neither
as senator nor as representative had he won great distinction. Best
known for his duel with Barent Gardenier, his physical courage was
more apparent than his financial fitness. Campbell brought no strength
to the Administration, and rather weakened its character among
capitalists; but Madison could think of no one better qualified for the
place. The Republicans were at a loss for leaders. “I do not complain
that Campbell is unfit,” wrote Macon to Nicholson;[489] “indeed, if the
choice of secretary must be made out of Congress, I do not know that a
better could be made.” Yet the selection was unfortunate.

Madison was also obliged to select a new attorney-general in place of
William Pinkney. Till then the attorney-general had not been regarded
as standing on the same footing with other members of the Cabinet.
The Secretaries of State and Treasury were paid five thousand dollars
a year; those of the War and Navy were paid forty-five hundred; but
the attorney-general was paid only three thousand. He had neither
office-room nor clerks, and was not required to reside permanently at
Washington, but pursued the private business of his profession where
he liked, attending to the business of government rather as a counsel
under general retainer than as a head of Department. Pinkney lived
in Baltimore, and his abilities were so valuable that the President
was glad to employ them on any terms, and was not inclined to impose
conditions of residence which Pinkney could not accept without a
greater sacrifice than he was ready to make.[490] Congress was not
so forbearing as the President. John W. Taylor, a member from New
York, moved a resolution January 5, directing the Judiciary Committee
to inquire into the expediency of requiring the attorney-general to
reside in Washington during the session of Congress. The committee
reported a bill, January 22, requiring permanent residence from the
attorney-general, with an increase of salary. The bill failed to become
law, but Pinkney at once resigned.

Madison offered the post to Richard Rush, who accepted it. Rush’s
abilities were more than respectable, and caused regret that he had not
accepted the Treasury, for which he was better fitted than Campbell;
but these changes did not improve the Cabinet. “His predecessor,
Pinkney, I believe considered him the best lawyer in the nation,”
wrote Macon;[491] “but that Campbell and Rush are equal to Gallatin
and Pinkney is not, I imagine, believed by any one who knows them.” In
the case of Pinkney and Rush, the advantages of permanent residence
balanced in part the loss of ability; but no such consideration
affected the change of Campbell for Gallatin.

Fortunately Madison lost enemies as well as friends. Time worked
steadily in his favor. The old Smith faction, the Clinton party,
and the “Aurora” were already broken. Senators who claimed too much
independence of action found public opinion setting strongly against
them. Samuel Smith and Giles were near the end of their terms, and
had no chance of re-election. The legislature of North Carolina, in
December, 1813, censured so severely the conduct of Senator Stone that
the senator resigned his seat.[492] At the same time, Pennsylvania
succeeded in ridding herself of Senator Leib, and Madison was able to
punish the postmaster-general, Gideon Granger, whose friendship for
Leib made him obnoxious to his party.

Granger was not a member of the Cabinet, but his patronage was the
more important because at that time, by some anomaly in the law,
it was not subject to approval by the Senate. Early in January one
of his best post-offices, that of Philadelphia, became vacant. One
senator of the United States had already resigned his seat to become
postmaster of New York; and the Pennsylvanians had reason to fear
that Leib, whose term was about to expire, would resign to become
postmaster of Philadelphia, and that Granger wished to gratify him.
Immediately all the Administration Republicans, including members of
Congress and of the State legislature, joined in recommending another
man, and warned Granger in private that his own removal from office
would follow the appointment of Leib.[493] C. J. Ingersoll--a young
member from Pennsylvania, among the warmest supporters of Madison and
the war--reinforced the threat by moving the House, January 7, for a
committee to amend the laws with a view to making postmasters subject
to the usual rule of confirmation. The committee was appointed.

Irritated by this treatment, Granger in defiance of President and party
appointed Michael Leib to the office, and Leib instantly resigned
his seat and hastened to assume the duties of his new post. In this
transaction Madison was the chief gainer. Not only did he rid himself
of Leib, but he gained a warm ally in the person of Leib’s successor;
for the Pennsylvania legislature, February 28, transferred Jonathan
Roberts from the House to take Leib’s place in the Senate. Madison’s
advantage was not limited by Leib’s departure or Roberts’s accession.
He was able also to punish Granger in a manner at that time almost
or quite without parallel. Executive offices ran, as a rule, during
good behavior; and although Jefferson made removals of party enemies,
neither he nor Madison had ventured to remove party friends, except in
cases of misbehavior. Granger’s conduct exasperated the Pennsylvanians
to a point where no rules were regarded. Eighty-six members of the
Pennsylvania legislature joined in addressing a memorial to the
President demanding the removal of Granger as the only means of getting
rid of Leib, who had not only opposed Madison’s election, but who,
“when entrusted with one of the highest offices in the gift of the
State, ... acted in direct hostility to her wishes and interests, and
aided as far as possible her political enemies.” Madison needed little
urging. February 25 he nominated to the Senate as postmaster-general
the governor of Ohio, Return Jonathan Meigs. After some little delay,
the Senate confirmed the appointment, March 17, without a division.

Scarcely was this matter settled, when Congress yielded to Madison’s
opinion in another instance where for ten years the House had
obstinately resisted his wishes. The Yazoo bill became law. For this
concession several reasons combined. The Supreme Court, through
Chief-Justice Marshall, by an elaborate decision in February, 1810,
settled the law in favor of the claimants. John Randolph’s defeat
removed from Congress the chief obstacle to the proposed agreement. The
threatening attitude of New England made every palliative necessary.
Under these inducements, the Senate passed the bill, February 28, by a
vote of twenty-four to eight, and the House passed it, March 26, by a
vote of eighty-four to seventy-six.

Little by little the pressure of necessity compelled Congress and
the country to follow Madison’s lead. Whether for good or for evil,
he had his way. His enemies were overcome and driven from the field;
his friends were rewarded, and his advice followed. Of revolt within
the party he stood no longer in fear. Already political intrigue and
factiousness began to take a direction which concerned him only so far
as he felt an interest in the choice of his successor. Three years
more would complete Madison’s public career, and in all probability if
another President of the United States were ever elected, he would be
one of Madison’s friends; but many persons doubted whether the country
would reach another Presidential election, and the jealousy which
actuated New England against the South was not the only ground for
that opinion. In Madison’s immediate circle of friends, the jealousy
between Virginia and New York threatened to tear the government in
pieces. These States did not, like Massachusetts, threaten to leave
the Union, but their struggles for power promised to bring government
to a standstill.

The antipathy of New York for Virginia was not lessened by the success
of Virginia in overthrowing Aaron Burr and DeWitt Clinton. The
Republican party in New York quickly produced two new aspirants to the
Presidency, whose hopes were founded on public weariness of Virginian
supremacy. One of the two candidates was Governor Daniel D. Tompkins,
whose services as war-governor of New York were great, and were
rewarded by great popularity. Governor Tompkins was too remote from the
capital to annoy Madison by direct contact with factions or activity
in intrigue; but the other rival stood at the centre of Executive
patronage. John Armstrong was a man capable of using power for personal
objects, and not easily to be prevented from using it as he pleased.

Armstrong was an unusual character. The local influences which shaped
Americans were illustrated by the leaders whom New York produced, and
by none better than by Armstrong. Virginians could not understand,
and could still less trust, such a combination of keenness and will,
with absence of conventional morals as the Secretary of War displayed.
The Virginians were simple in everything; even their casuistry was
old-fashioned. Armstrong’s mind belonged to modern New York. The
Virginians were a knot of country gentlemen, inspired by faith in
rural virtues, and sustained by dislike for the city tendencies of
Northern society. Among themselves they were genial, reluctant to
offend, and eager to remove causes of offence. The domestic history of
the government at Washington repeated the Virginian traits. Jefferson
and his friends passed much time in making quarrels, and more in making
peace. Unlike Pennsylvania, New York, and New England, Virginia stood
stoutly by her own leaders; and however harsh Virginians might be in
their judgment of others, they carried delicacy to an extreme in their
treatment of each other. Even John Randolph and W. B. Giles, who seemed
to put themselves beyond the social pale, were treated with tenderness
and regarded with admiration.

The appearance of a rough and harshly speaking friend in such a society
was no slight shock, and for that reason William Henry Crawford was
regarded with some alarm; but Crawford was socially one of themselves,
while Armstrong belonged to a different type and class. The faculty of
doing a harsh act in a harsh way, and of expressing rough opinions in a
caustic tone, was not what the Virginians most disliked in Armstrong.
His chief fault in their eyes, and one which they could not be blamed
for resenting, was his avowed want of admiration for the Virginians
themselves. Armstrong’s opinion on that subject, which was but the
universal opinion of New York politicians, became notorious long before
he entered the Cabinet, and even then annoyed Madison.[494] The
newspapers gossiped about the mean estimate which Armstrong expressed
for the capacities of the Virginia statesmen. So old and fixed was
the feud, that from the first the Virginians lost no opportunity to
express their opinion of Armstrong, especially in the Senate, whenever
he was nominated for office. Madison unwillingly selected him for
the post of secretary after Crawford refused it, but neither of the
Virginia senators voted on the question of confirmation. In appointing
Armstrong, Madison bestowed on him neither respect nor confidence. He
afterward declared the reasons that caused him to invite a person whom
he distrusted into a position of the highest importance.

    “Should it be asked,” wrote Madison ten years after the war,[495]
    “why the individual in question was placed, and after such
    developments of his career continued, at the head of the War
    Department, the answer will readily occur to those best acquainted
    with the circumstances of the period. Others may be referred for
    an explanation to the difficulty, which had been felt in its
    fullest pressure, of obtaining services which would have been
    preferred, several eminent citizens to whom the station had been
    offered having successively declined it. It was not unknown at the
    time that objections existed to the person finally appointed, as
    appeared when his nomination went to the Senate, where it received
    the reluctant sanction of a scanty majority [eighteen to fifteen].
    Nor was the President unaware or unwarned of the temper and turn of
    mind ascribed to him, which might be uncongenial with the official
    relations in which he was to stand. But these considerations were
    sacrificed to recommendations from esteemed friends; a belief
    that he possessed, with known talents, a degree of military
    information which might be useful; and a hope that a proper mixture
    of conciliating confidence and interposing control would render
    objectionable peculiarities less in practice than in prospect.”

Possibly Armstrong took a different view of Madison’s conduct, and
regarded his own acceptance of the War Department in January, 1813,
as proof both of courage and disinterestedness. He knew that he could
expect no confidence from Virginians; but apparently he cared little
for Virginian enmity, and was chiefly fretted by what he thought
Virginian incompetence. No one could fail to see that he came into the
Government rather as a master than a servant. According to General
Wilkinson, he was quite as much feared as hated. “I am indeed shocked,”
wrote Wilkinson in his Memoirs,[496] “when I take a retrospect of
the evidence of the terror in which that minister kept more than one
great man at Washington.” Wilkinson, who hated Madison even more than
he hated Armstrong, evidently believed that the President was afraid
of his secretary. Madison himself explained that he thought it better
to bear with Armstrong’s faults than to risk another change in the
Department of War.

In that decision Madison was doubtless right. Whatever were
Armstrong’s faults, he was the strongest Secretary of War the
government had yet seen. Hampered by an inheritance of mistakes not
easily corrected, and by a chief whose methods were unmilitary in the
extreme, Armstrong still introduced into the army an energy wholly new.
Before he had been a year in office he swept away the old generals
with whom Madison and Eustis had encumbered the service, and in their
place substituted new men. While Major-Generals Dearborn, Pinckney,
and Morgan Lewis were set over military districts where active service
was unnecessary, and while Major-General Wilkinson was summoned to the
last of his many courts of inquiry, the President sent to the Senate,
January 21 and February 21, the names of two new major-generals and
six brigadiers of a totally different character from the earlier
appointments.

The first major-general was George Izard of South Carolina, born at
Paris in 1777, his father Ralph Izard being then American commissioner
with Franklin and Deane. Returning to America only for a few years
after the peace, George Izard at the age of fifteen was sent abroad to
receive a military education in England, Germany, and France in the
great school of the French Revolution. As far as education could make
generals, Izard was the most promising officer in the United States
service. Appointed in March, 1812, colonel of the Second Artillery,
promoted to brigadier in March, 1813, he served with credit under
Hampton at Chateaugay, and received his promotion over the heads of
Chandler, Boyd, and one or two other brigadiers his seniors. He was
intended to succeed Hampton on Lake Champlain.

The second new major-general was Jacob Brown, who after receiving
the appointment of brigadier, July 19, 1813, was suddenly promoted
to major-general at the same time with Izard. The selection was the
more remarkable because Brown had no military education, and was taken
directly from the militia. Born in Pennsylvania in 1775 of Quaker
parentage, Brown began life as a schoolmaster. At the instance of the
Society of Friends, he taught their public school in New York city
for several years with credit.[497] He then bought a large tract of
land near Sackett’s Harbor, and in 1799 undertook to found a town of
Brownville. He soon became a leading citizen in that part of New York,
and in 1809 was appointed to the command of a militia regiment. In
1811 he was made a brigadier of militia, and at the beginning of the
war distinguished himself by activity and success at Ogdensburg. His
defence of Sackett’s Harbor in 1813 won him a brigade in the regular
service, and his share in Wilkinson’s descent of the St. Lawrence led
to his further promotion.

Wilkinson, who regarded Brown as one of his enemies, declared that
he knew not enough of military duty to post the guards of his
camp,[498] and that he compelled his battery to form in a hollow
for the advantage of elevating the pieces to fire at the opposite
heights.[499] Winfield Scott, who was one of Brown’s warmest friends,
described him as full of zeal and vigor, but not a technical soldier,
and but little acquainted with organization, tactics, police,
and camp-duties in general.[500] The promotion of an officer so
inexperienced to the most important command on the frontier, gave a
measure of Armstrong’s boldness and judgment.

The six new brigadiers were also well chosen. They were Alexander
Macomb, T. A. Smith, Daniel Bissell, Edmund P. Gaines, Winfield Scott,
and Eleazer W. Ripley, all colonels of the regular army, selected for
their merits. Armstrong supplied Brown’s defects of education by giving
him the aid of Winfield Scott and Ripley, who were sent to organize
brigades at Niagara.

The energy thus infused by Armstrong into the regular army lasted
for half a century; but perhaps his abrupt methods were better shown
in another instance, which brought upon him the displeasure of the
President. Against Harrison, Armstrong from the first entertained a
prejudice. Believing him to be weak and pretentious, the Secretary
of War showed the opinion by leaving him in nominal command in the
northwest, but sending all his troops in different directions, without
consulting him even in regard to movements within his own military
department. Harrison, taking just offence, sent his resignation as
major-general, May 11, 1814, but at the same time wrote to Governor
Shelby of Kentucky a letter which caused the governor to address to the
President a remonstrance against accepting the resignation.[501]

At that moment Armstrong and Madison were discussing the means of
promoting Andrew Jackson in the regular service for his success in
the Creek campaigns. No commission higher than that of brigadier was
then at their disposal, and a commission as brigadier was accordingly
prepared for Jackson May 22, with a brevet of major-general.[502]
Harrison’s resignation had been received by Armstrong two days before
issuing Jackson’s brevet, and had been notified to the President, who
was then at Montpelier.[503] The President replied May 25, suggesting
that in view of Harrison’s resignation, the better way would be to send
a commission as major-general directly to Jackson: “I suspend a final
decision, however, till I see you, which will be in two or three days
after the arrival of this.”[504] No sooner did Armstrong receive the
letter, than without waiting for the President’s return he wrote to
Jackson, May 28: “Since the date of my letter of the 24th Major-General
Harrison has resigned his commission in the army, and thus is created
a vacancy in that grade, which I hasten to fill with your name.”[505]

Armstrong’s course was irregular, and his account to Jackson of the
circumstances was incorrect; for Harrison’s resignation had been
received before, not after, Armstrong’s letter of the 24th. Madison
believed that Armstrong wished to appear as the source of favor to the
army. Armstrong attributed Madison’s hesitation to the wish of Madison
and Monroe that Harrison, rather than Jackson, should take command of
Mobile and New Orleans.[506] Both suspicions might be wrong or right;
but Armstrong’s conduct, while betraying the first motive, suggested
the fear that the President might change his mind; and Harrison
believed that the President would have done so, had not Armstrong’s
abrupt action made it impossible. “The President expressed his great
regret,” said Harrison’s biographer,[507] “that the letter of Governor
Shelby had not been received earlier, as in that case the valuable
services of General Harrison would have been preserved to the nation in
the ensuing campaign.”

Little as the President liked his Secretary of War, his antipathy was
mild when compared with that of Monroe. The failure of the Canada
campaign gave a serious blow to Armstrong; but he had still recovered
Detroit, and was about to finish the Creek war. His hold upon the
army was becoming strong. His enemies charged him with ambition; they
said he was systematically engaged in strengthening his influence by
seducing the young officers of talents into his personal support,
teaching them to look for appreciation not to the President but to
himself, and appointing to office only his own tools, or the sons of
influential men. He was believed to favor a conscription, and to aim
at the position of lieutenant-general. These stories were constantly
brought to Monroe, and drove him to a condition of mind only to be
described as rabid. He took the unusual step of communicating them
to the President,[508] with confidential comments that, if known to
Armstrong, could hardly have failed to break up the Cabinet.

    “It is painful to me to make this communication to you,” wrote the
    Secretary of State Dec. 27, 1813;[509] “nor should I do it if I
    did not most conscientiously believe that this man, if continued
    in office, will ruin not you and the Administration only, but the
    whole Republican party and cause. He has already gone far to do
    it, and it is my opinion, if he is not promptly removed, he will
    soon accomplish it. Without repeating other objections to him, if
    the above facts are true, ... he wants a head fit for his station.
    Indolent except to improper purposes, he is incapable of that
    combination and activity which the times require. My advice to
    you, therefore, is to remove him at once. The near prospect of a
    conscription, adopted and acted on without your approbation or
    knowledge, is a sufficient reason. The burning of Newark, if done
    by his orders, is another. The failure to place troops at Fort
    George is another. In short there are abundant reasons for it.
    His removal for either of the three would revive the hopes of our
    party now desponding, and give a stimulus to measures. I do not
    however wish you to act on my advice,--consult any in whom you have
    confidence. Mr. A. has, as you may see, few friends, and some of
    them cling to him rather as I suspect from improper motives, or on
    a presumption that you support him.”

Armstrong’s faults were beyond dispute, but his abilities were very
considerable; and the President justly thought that nothing would be
gained by dismissing him, even to restore Monroe to the War Department.
Armstrong, struggling with the load of incapable officers and
insufficient means, for which Madison and Congress were responsible,
required the firm support of his chief and his colleagues, as well as
of the army and of Congress, to carry the burden of the war; but he had
not a friend to depend upon. Secretary Jones was as hostile as Monroe.
Pennsylvania and Virginia equally distrusted him, and the fate of any
public man distrusted by Pennsylvania and Virginia was commonly fixed
in advance. Armstrong was allowed to continue his preparations for
the next campaign, but Monroe remained actively hostile. In a private
letter to Crawford, written probably about the month of May, 1814, and
preserved with a memorandum that it was not sent, Monroe said:[510]--

    “There is now no officer free to command to whom the public looks
    with any sort of confidence or even hope. Izard stands next, but
    he is as you see otherwise engaged [on a court of inquiry on
    Wilkinson]. Thus the door is left open for some new pretender, and
    Mr. Armstrong is that pretender. This has been his object from the
    beginning.... The whole affair is beyond my control.”

Thus the elements of confusion surrounding Armstrong were many. A
suspicious and hesitating President; a powerful and jealous Secretary
of State; a South Carolinian major-general, educated in the French
engineers, commanding on Lake Champlain; a Pennsylvania schoolmaster,
of Quaker parentage, without military knowledge, commanding at
Sackett’s Harbor and Niagara; a few young brigadiers eager to
distinguish themselves, and an army of some thirty thousand men,--these
were the elements with which Armstrong was to face the whole military
power of England; for Paris capitulated March 31, and the war in Europe
was ended.

In one respect, Armstrong’s conduct seemed inconsistent with the idea
of selfishness or intrigue. The duty of organizing a court martial for
the trial of William Hull fell necessarily upon him. Hull’s defence
must inevitably impeach Hull’s superiors; his acquittal was possible
only on the ground that the Government had been criminally negligent
in supporting him. As far as Armstrong was interested in the result,
he was concerned in proving the incapacity of his predecessor Eustis,
and of the President, in their management of the war. He could have had
no personal object to gain in procuring the conviction of Hull, but he
might defend his own course by proving the imbecility of Dearborn.

The President ordered a court martial on Hull before Armstrong entered
the War Department. A. J. Dallas drew up the specifications, and
inserted, contrary to his own judgment, a charge of treason made by
the Department. The other charges were cowardice, neglect of duty, and
unofficer-like conduct. Monroe, while temporarily at the head of the
Department, organized the first court to meet at Philadelphia Feb. 25,
1813. Major-General Wade Hampton was to preside.

Before the trial could be held, Armstrong came into office, and was
obliged to order the members of the court to active service. Hampton
was sent to Lake Champlain, and when his campaign ended in November,
1813, he returned under charges resembling those against Hull.[511]
Finding that neither Wilkinson nor Armstrong cared to press them, and
satisfied that no inquiry could be impartial, Hampton determined to
settle the question by once more sending in his resignation,[512]
which he did in March, 1814, when it was accepted. Armstrong in effect
acquitted Hampton by accepting his resignation, and never publicly
affirmed any charge against him until after Hampton’s death, when he
attributed to the major-general “much professional error and great
moral depravity.”[513] Hampton’s opinion of Armstrong could be gathered
only from his conduct and his letters to the Secretary of War, but was
not materially different from Armstrong’s opinion of Hampton.

Meanwhile Hull waited for trial. During the summer of 1813 he saw
nearly all his possible judges disgraced and demanding courts martial
like himself. Hampton was one; Wilkinson another; Dearborn a third.
Dearborn had been removed from command of his army in face of the
enemy, and loudly called for a court of inquiry. Instead of granting
the request, the President again assigned him to duty in command of
Military District No. 3, comprising the city of New York, and also made
him President of the court martial upon General Hull.

The impropriety of such a selection could not be denied. Of all men in
the United States, Dearborn was most deeply interested in the result of
Hull’s trial, and the President, next to Dearborn, would be most deeply
injured by Hull’s acquittal. The judgment of Dearborn, or of any court
over which Dearborn presided, in a matter which affected both court and
government so closely could not command respect. That Armstrong lent
himself to such a measure was a new trait of character never explained;
but that Madison either ordered or permitted it showed that he must
have been unconscious either of Dearborn’s responsibility for Hull’s
disaster, or of his own.

Hull offered no objection to his court, and the trial began at Albany,
Jan. 3, 1814, Dearborn presiding, and Martin Van Buren acting as
special judge-advocate. March 26 the court sentenced Hull to be shot to
death for cowardice, neglect of duty, and unofficer-like conduct. April
25 President Madison approved the sentence, but remitted the execution,
and Hull’s name was ordered to be struck from the army roll.

That some one should be punished for the loss of Detroit was evident,
and few persons were likely to complain because Hull was a selected
victim; but many thought that if Hull deserved to be shot, other men,
much higher than he in office and responsibility, merited punishment;
and the character of the court-martial added no credit to the
Government, which in effect it acquitted of blame.


END OF VOL. I.




FOOTNOTES


[1] Madison to Wheaton, Feb. 26, 1827; Works, iii. 553.

[2] Castlereagh to Russell, Aug. 29, 1812; State Papers, iii. 589.

[3] Russell to Monroe, Sept. 17, 1812; State Papers, iii. 593.

[4] Castlereagh to Russell, Sept. 18, 1812; State Papers, iii. 592.

[5] Cobbett’s Debates, xxiv. 463; Feb. 18, 1813.

[6] James, App. No. 77.

[7] Cobbett’s Debates, xxiv. 34; Nov. 30, 1812.

[8] Cobbett’s Debates, xxiv. 47, 48; Nov. 30. 1812.

[9] Cobbett’s Debates, xxiv. 72; Nov. 30, 1812.

[10] The Times, Jan. 2, 1813.

[11] Cobbett’s Debates, xxiv. 625; Feb. 13, 1813.

[12] Cobbett’s Debates, xxiv. 582.

[13] Cobbett’s Debates, xxiv. 586.

[14] Diary of J. Q. Adams, Sept. 21, 1812; ii. 401.

[15] VETUS, in the “Times,” Oct. 26, 1812.

[16] Diary of J. Q. Adams, Oct. 21, 1812; ii. 414.

[17] Diary of J. Q. Adams, ii. 433. Adams to Monroe, Dec. 11, 1812;
State Papers, iii. 626.

[18] Diary of J. Q. Adams, Feb. 1, 1813; ii. 440.

[19] State Papers, iii. 608.

[20] Foster to Monroe, July 2, 1811; State Papers, iii. 542.

[21] Adams’s Gallatin, p. 488.

[22] Serurier to Bassano, Jan. 13, 1813; Archives des Aff. Étr. MSS.

[23] Monroe to Jefferson, June 7, 1813; Jefferson MSS.

[24] Monroe to Madison, Feb. 25, 1813; Monroe MSS. State Department
Archives; Gilman’s Monroe, p. 108.

[25] Armstrong’s Notices of the War, i. 113–116.

[26] Adams’s Gallatin, p. 408.

[27] Gallatin to Nicholson, May 5, 1813; Adams’s Gallatin, p. 482.

[28] State Papers, iii. 624.

[29] Monroe to Jefferson, June 7, 1813; Jefferson MSS.

[30] Adams’s Gallatin, p. 483.

[31] Gallatin’s Writings, i. 535.

[32] Monroe to the Plenipotentiaries, April 15, 1813; State Papers,
iii. 695.

[33] Niles, iv. 168.

[34] Gallatin to William Few, May 9, 1813; Gallatin MSS.

[35] Pickering to Lowell, Nov. 7, 1814; New England Federalism, p. 404.

[36] Ingersoll’s History, i. 120.

[37] Serurier to Bassano, July 21, 1813; Archives des Aff. Étr. MSS.

[38] National Intelligencer, July 17, 20, 22, 1813.

[39] Madison to Gallatin, Aug. 2, 1813; Works, ii. 566.

[40] Executive Journal, ii. 388.

[41] Monroe to Jefferson, June 28, 1813; Adams’s Gallatin, p. 484.

[42] Monroe to Jefferson, June 28, 1813; Adams’s Gallatin, p. 484. Cf.
Madison to the Senate, July 6, 1813; Executive Journal, ii. 381.

[43] Hanson to Pickering, Oct. 16, 1813; Pickering MSS.

[44] Harrison to Eustis, Aug. 10, 1812; Dawson, p. 273.

[45] Harrison to Eustis, Aug. 28, 1812; Dawson, p. 283.

[46] Harrison to Eustis, Aug. 28, 1812; Dawson, p. 283.

[47] Dawson, p. 296.

[48] Winchester to the “National Intelligencer,” Sept. 16, 1816.

[49] Eustis to Harrison, Sept. 17, 1812; Dawson, p. 299. Eustis to
Governor Shelby, Sept. 17, 1812. McAffee, p. 117.

[50] Dawson, p. 312.

[51] McAffee, p. 184.

[52] Armstrong to Harrison, April 4, 1813; Armstrong’s Notices, i. 245.

[53] Harrison to Secretary of War, Jan. 4, 1813; Dawson, p. 337.

[54] Dawson, p. 333. Armstrong’s Notices, i. 63, 86.

[55] Dawson, p. 454.

[56] Harrison to the Secretary of War, Jan. 4, 1813; Dawson, p. 339.

[57] Harrison to the Secretary of War, Jan. 4, 1813; Dawson, p. 339.

[58] Harrison to the Secretary of War, Jan. 4, 1813; Dawson, p. 339.

[59] Harrison to the Secretary of War, Jan. 8, 1813; Dawson, p. 339.

[60] Winchester to the “National Intelligencer,” Sept. 16, 1817; Major
Eves’s Statement; Armstrong’s Notices, i. 203. Cf. Dawson, p. 443.

[61] Winchester’s Statement; Armstrong’s Notices, i. 197.

[62] McAffee, p. 230.

[63] McAffee, p. 237.

[64] Winchester’s Statement; Armstrong’s Notices, i. 199.

[65] Winchester to the “National Intelligencer,” Dec. 13, 1817.

[66] Winchester to the “National Intelligencer,” Dec. 13, 1817.

[67] James, i. 185; Richardson, p. 74.

[68] Richardson, p. 75.

[69] Winchester’s Statement; Armstrong’s Notices, i. 198.

[70] Winchester to the “National Intelligencer,” Dec. 17, 1817.

[71] Harrison to the Secretary of War, Jan. 26, 1813; Official Letters,
p. 125.

[72] Harrison to Governor Meigs, Jan. 19, 1813; “National
Intelligencer,” Feb. 11, 1813.

[73] McAffee, p. 210; Armstrong’s Notices, i. 200.

[74] Harrison to the Secretary of War, Feb. [Jan.] 20, 1813; MSS. War
Department Archives.

[75] McAffee, p. 233.

[76] Dawson, p. 364.

[77] Life of Sir George Prevost; App. xxv. p 74. Christie, ii. 115.

[78] Return of the whole of the troops engaged at Frenchtown, Jan. 22,
1813; MSS. Canadian Archives, c. 678, p. 18.

[79] Christie, ii. 69; James, i. 186; Richardson, p. 75.

[80] Proctor’s Report of Jan. 25, 1813; James, i. 418.

[81] James, i. 185, 186.

[82] Return, etc.; MSS. Canadian Archives, c. 648, p. 18.

[83] Richardson, p. 76.

[84] Statement of Madison, March 13, 1813; Niles, iv. 83.

[85] Richardson’s War of 1812, p. 79.

[86] Dawson, p. 362.

[87] Dawson, p. 356.

[88] Armstrong’s Notices, i. 85.

[89] Dawson, p. 370.

[90] McAffee, p. 240.

[91] Dawson, p. 375.

[92] Dawson, p. 373.

[93] Armstrong’s Notices, i. 242.

[94] Dawson, p. 337.

[95] Proctor’s Report of May 4, 1813; Richardson, p. 94; James, i. 196,
429.

[96] Lossing, p. 486, _note_.

[97] Richardson, p. 86; James, i. 198.

[98] Harrison to Armstrong, May 13, 1813; MSS. War Department Archives.

[99] Richardson, pp. 87, 88. Harrison to Armstrong, May 9, 1813; MSS.
War Department Archives.

[100] Richardson, p. 88.

[101] Harrison to Armstrong, May 13, 1813; MSS. War Department Archives.

[102] Proctor’s Report of May 14, 1813; James, i. 428; Richardson, pp.
93, 94.

[103] Prevost to Proctor, July 11, 1813; Armstrong’s Notices i. 228.

[104] Richardson, p. 111.

[105] James, i. 264, 265; Richardson, p. 104; Christie, p. 117.

[106] Dawson, p. 408.

[107] McAffee, p. 322.

[108] McAffee, p. 323.

[109] Governor Duncan’s Report, 1834; Armstrong’s Notices, i. 230.

[110] Dawson, p. 408.

[111] Richardson, p. 105.

[112] Proctor to Prevost, Aug. 9, 1813; MSS. Canadian Archives.

[113] Life of Prevost, p. 106, _note_.

[114] Governor Duncan’s Report, 1834; Armstrong’s Notices, i. 230.

[115] Richardson, p. 104.

[116] James, ii. 264.

[117] Dawson, p. 407; McAffee, p. 302.

[118] Armstrong’s Notices, i. 166, _note_.

[119] Harrison to Armstrong, March 17, 1813; Notices, i. 242.

[120] Richardson, p. 110; James, Naval Occurrences, p. 285.

[121] Barclay’s Report of Sept. 12, 1813; James, Naval Occurrences.
Appendix, no. 54.

[122] McAffee, p. 334.

[123] Harrison to Meigs, Oct. 11, 1813; Official Letters, p. 239.

[124] Armstrong, i. 171, _note_; McAffee, p. 286.

[125] R. M. Johnson to Armstrong, Dec. 22, 1834; Armstrong, i. 232.

[126] Perry to Secretary Jones, Sept. 24, 1813; Official Letters, p.
215.

[127] James, i. 269.

[128] Richardson, p. 119.

[129] Harrison to Meigs, Oct. 11, 1813; Official Letters, p. 239.

[130] Richardson, pp. 126, 133, 134.

[131] Perry to Secretary Jones, Sept. 27, 1813; Official Letters, p.
220.

[132] Harrison to Armstrong, Sept. 27, 1813; Dawson, p. 421.

[133] Harrison to Armstrong, Oct. 9, 1813; Official Letters, p. 233.

[134] Report of Oct. 23, 1813; MSS. British Archives. Lower Canada,
vol. cxxiii.

[135] Richardson, pp. 133, 134.

[136] Harrison’s Report, Oct. 9, 1813; Official Letters, p. 234.

[137] Narrative of Lieutenant Bullock, Dec. 6, 1813; Richardson, p. 137.

[138] Proctor’s Report of Oct. 23, 1813; MSS. British Archives.

[139] Richardson, pp. 122, 139.

[140] Richardson, p. 136.

[141] James, i. 278.

[142] Report of Lieutenant Bullock, Dec. 6, 1813; Richardson, p. 140.

[143] Harrison’s Report of Oct. 9, 1813; Official Letters, p. 233.

[144] R. M. Johnson to Armstrong, Dec. 22, 1834; Armstrong’s Notices,
i. 232.

[145] Report of Lieutenant Bullock, Dec. 6, 1813; Richardson, p. 140.

[146] Richardson, p. 136.

[147] R. M. Johnson to Armstrong, Nov. 21, 1813; MSS. War Department
Archives.

[148] Richardson, p. 125. Lewis Cass to Armstrong, Oct. 28, 1813; MSS.
War Department Archives.

[149] Return of Right Division, Richardson, p. 129.

[150] Prevost to Bathurst, Feb. 14, 1815; MSS. British Archives.

[151] W. H. Robinson to Prevost, Aug. 27, 1814; MSS. British Archives.

[152] Prevost to Bathurst, Aug. 27, 1814; MSS. British Archives, Lower
Canada, vol. cxxviii. no. 190.

[153] James, i. 140.

[154] Report of Major Macdonnell, Feb. 23, 1813; James, i. Appendix no.
16.

[155] State Papers, Military Affairs, i. 608.

[156] Armstrong to Dearborn, Feb. 10, 1813; Armstrong’s Notices, i. 221.

[157] Note presented to Cabinet, Feb. 8, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs,
iii. Appendix xxvi.; State Papers, Military Affairs, i. 439.

[158] State Papers; Military Affairs, i. 440.

[159] Distribution of Forces in Canada; Canadian Archives, Freer
Papers, 1812–1813, p. 47.

[160] Dearborn to Armstrong, March 9, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 441.

[161] Dearborn to Armstrong, March 9, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 442.

[162] State Papers, Military Affairs, i. 442.

[163] Armstrong to Dearborn, April 19, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 442.

[164] State Papers, Military Affairs, i. 442.

[165] James, i. 143, 149.

[166] Letter of Dearborn, Oct. 17, 1814; Niles, viii. 36.

[167] Niles, iv. 238.

[168] Table of Land Battles; Niles, x. 154.

[169] Dearborn to Armstrong, April 28, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 443.

[170] Dearborn to Armstrong, May 13, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 444.

[171] James, i. p. 151.

[172] Vincent to Sir George Prevost, May 28, 1813; James, i. 407;
Appendix no. 21.

[173] Return of killed, etc.; James, i. 410.

[174] Morgan Lewis to Armstrong, July 5, 1813; MSS. War Department
Archives.

[175] James, i. 203.

[176] Armstrong to Dearborn, June 19, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 449.

[177] Table of land battles; Niles, x. 154.

[178] Morgan Lewis to Armstrong, June 14, 1813; Official Letters, p.
165. Chandler to Dearborn, June 18, 1813; Official Letters, p. 169.

[179] Vincent to Prevost, June 6, 1813; James, i. p. 431.

[180] Chandler’s Report of June 18, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. p. 448.

[181] Report of Colonel Harvey, June 6, 1813; Canadiana, April, 1889.
Report of General Vincent, June 6, 1813; James, i. p. 431.

[182] Morgan Lewis to Armstrong, June 14 (8?), 1813; Official Letters,
p. 165.

[183] State Papers; Military Affairs, i. 445.

[184] State Papers; Military Affairs, i. 447.

[185] State Papers; Military Affairs, i. 448.

[186] State Papers; Military Affairs, i. 446.

[187] State Papers; Military Affairs, i. 449.

[188] Morgan Lewis to Armstrong, July 5, 1813; MSS. War Department
Archives.

[189] Memoir of Dearborn, etc., compiled by Charles Coffin, p. 139.

[190] Court of Inquiry on Colonel Boerstler, Feb. 17, 1815; Niles x. 19.

[191] James, i. 216.

[192] Dearborn to Armstrong, June 25, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs; i. 449.

[193] James, i. 165; Colonel Baynes to Prevost, May 30, 1813; James, i.
413.

[194] Report of Sir George Prevost, June 1, 1813; MSS. British Archives.

[195] Prevost to Bathurst, June 1, 1813; MSS. British Archives.
Prevost’s Life, p. 82, 83.

[196] James, i. 165, 166. Brenton to Freer, May 30, 1813; MSS. Canadian
Archives, Freer Papers, 1812–1813, p. 183.

[197] Report of Colonel Baynes, May 30, 1813; James, i. 413.

[198] Brown to Dearborn, July 25, 1813; Dearborn MSS.

[199] Prevost’s Report of June 1, 1813; MSS. British Archives.

[200] James, i. 175.

[201] Report of Colonel Baynes, May 30, 1813; James, i. 413.

[202] Brenton to Freer, May 30, 1813; MSS. Canadian Archives. Freer
Papers, 1812–1813.

[203] Quarterly Review, xxvii. 419; Christie, ii. 81; James, i. 177.

[204] Brown’s Report of June 1, 1813; Niles, iv. 260.

[205] Brown to Dearborn, July 25, 1813; Dearborn MSS.

[206] James, i. 165.

[207] Return, etc.; James, i. 417.

[208] Baynes’s Report of May 30, 1813; James, i. 413.

[209] Strictures on General Wilkinson’s Defence; from the Albany
“Argus.” Niles, ix. 425.

[210] Armstrong to Wilkinson, March 10, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii.
341.

[211] Armstrong to Wilkinson, March 12, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii.
342.

[212] Autobiography, p. 94, _note_.

[213] Strictures; Niles, ix. 425.

[214] Wilkinson, to Armstrong, May 23, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii.
341.

[215] Armstrong’s Notices, ii. 23.

[216] Armstrong’s Notices, ii. 23.

[217] Scott’s Autobiography, p. 50.

[218] Scott’s Autobiography, p. 36.

[219] Hampton to Armstrong, Aug. 23, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii.
Appendix xxxvi.

[220] Memorandum by Armstrong, July 23, 1813; Wilkinson to Armstrong,
Aug. 6, 1813; State Papers, Military Affairs, i. 463; Armstrong’s
Notices, ii. 31.

[221] Armstrong to Wilkinson, Aug. 8, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 464.

[222] Armstrong’s Notices, ii. 32.

[223] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. Appendix xxxv.

[224] Hampton to Armstrong, Aug. 23, 1813; Memoirs, iii. Appendix xxxvi.

[225] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 358.

[226] Hampton to Armstrong, Aug. 31, 1813; MSS. War Department
Archives. Armstrong to Wilkinson, Sept. 6, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs,
iii. Appendix xxxvii.

[227] Armstrong’s Notices, ii. 33; Memorandum of July 23, 1813; State
Papers, Military Affairs, i. 463.

[228] Minutes, etc.; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. Appendix no. 1.

[229] Wilkinson to Swartwout, Aug. 25, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii.
51.

[230] Cf. Wilkinson to Armstrong, Oct. 19, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 472.

[231] Armstrong to Wilkinson, Sept. 6, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii.
Appendix xxxvii.

[232] Testimony of Brigadier-General Boyd; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 80.

[233] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 354.

[234] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 357.

[235] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 353.

[236] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 190; Paper A, _note_.

[237] Armstrong to Hampton, Oct. 16, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii.
361.

[238] Armstrong to Wilkinson, Oct. 19, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 472.

[239] Wilkinson to Armstrong, Oct. 19, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 472.

[240] Armstrong’s Notices, ii. 63.

[241] Armstrong to Swartwout, Oct. 16, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii.
70.

[242] Council of War, Nov. 8, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. Appendix
xxiv. Report of Adjutant-General, Dec. 1, 1813, Appendix vii.

[243] Wilkinson to Armstrong, Oct. 28, 1813; MSS. War Department
Archives.

[244] General Order of Encampment; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 126; Order
of October 9, Appendix iii.

[245] Minutes etc.; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. Appendix xxiv.

[246] Armstrong to Wilkinson, Oct. 27, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii.
Appendix xli.

[247] Armstrong to Wilkinson, Oct. 30, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 474.

[248] Armstrong to Wilkinson, Nov. 12, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 474.

[249] Journal etc.; State Papers, Military Affairs, i. 477.

[250] Evidence of General Boyd; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 84; Evidence
of Doctor Bull; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 214.

[251] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 364.

[252] Autobiography, pp. 93, 94.

[253] Wilkinson’s Defence, Memoirs, iii. 451; Ripley’s Evidence,
Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 139.

[254] Evidence of General Boyd; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 85.

[255] Wilkinson to Armstrong, Nov. 18, 1813; Niles, v. 235.

[256] Evidence of Colonel Walbach; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 151.

[257] James, i. 323–325, 467.

[258] Return, etc., State Papers, Military Affairs, i. 476.

[259] Morrison’s Report of Nov. 12, 1813; James, i. 451.

[260] Journal, Nov. 11, 1813; State Papers, Military Affairs, i. 478.

[261] Evidence of Colonel Walbach; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 145;
Evidence of Colonel Pinkney, iii. 311.

[262] Evidence of Brigadier-General Boyd; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 91.

[263] James, i. 242; Christie, ii. 94.

[264] Wilkinson to Armstrong, Aug. 30, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 466.

[265] Armstrong to Hampton, Sept. 28, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 460. Cf. Armstrong’s Notices, ii. 25.

[266] State Papers, Military Affairs, i. 461.

[267] Prevost to Bathurst, Oct. 8, 1813; MSS. British Archives.

[268] Weekly General Return, Sept. 15, 1813; MSS. Canadian Archives,
Freer Papers, 1813, p. 35.

[269] Cf. Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. Appendix xxiv.; Council of War,
Nov. 8, 1813; Wilkinson’s Defence, Memoirs, iii. 449.

[270] Hampton to Armstrong, Oct. 12, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 460.

[271] James, i. 307.

[272] Hampton to Armstrong, Nov. 1, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 461.

[273] Prevost to Bathurst, Oct. 30, 1813; James, i. 462.

[274] Hampton to Armstrong, Nov. 1, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 461.

[275] Hampton to Armstrong, Nov. 1, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs iii.
Appendix lxix.

[276] Wilkinson to Hampton, Nov. 6, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 462.

[277] Hampton to Wilkinson, Nov. 8, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, 462.

[278] Wilkinson to Hampton; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. Appendix v.
Wilkinson to Armstrong, Nov. 24, 1813; State Papers, Military Affairs,
i. 480.

[279] Wilkinson to Armstrong, Nov. 17, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 478.

[280] Armstrong’s Notices, ii. 43.

[281] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 362, _note_.

[282] McClure to Armstrong, Dec. 10, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 486.

[283] Armstrong to McClure, Oct. 4, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 484.

[284] Wilkinson to Armstrong, Sept. 16, 1813; Sept. 20, 1813; State
Papers, Military Affairs, i. 467, 469.

[285] Armstrong to McClure, Nov. 25, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 485.

[286] McClure to Armstrong, Dec. 10 and 13, 1813; State Papers,
Military Affairs, i. 486.

[287] James, ii. 77.

[288] McClure to Armstrong, Dec. 22, 1813; State Papers, Military
Affairs, i. 487.

[289] Christie, ii. 140.

[290] James, ii. 20, 21.

[291] James, ii. 23.

[292] Christie, ii. 143; Niles, v. 382.

[293] Parton’s Jackson, i. 372.

[294] Monroe to Pinckney, Jan. 13, 1813; MSS. War Department Records.

[295] Monroe to Wilkinson, Jan. 30, 1813; MSS. War Department Records.

[296] Annals of Congress, 1812–1813, p. 124.

[297] Annals of Congress, 1812–1813, p. 127.

[298] Act of Feb. 12, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 339.

[299] Parton’s Jackson, i. 377.

[300] Armstrong to Jackson, March 22, 1813; MSS. War Department Records.

[301] Armstrong to Pinckney, Feb. 15, 1813; MSS. War Department Records.

[302] Armstrong to Pinckney, March 7, 1813; MSS. War Department Records.

[303] Gallatin’s Works, i. 539, _note_.

[304] Gallatin to Monroe, May 2, 1813; Gallatin’s Writings, i. 539.

[305] Monroe to Gallatin, May 5, 1813; Gallatin’s Writings, i. 540.

[306] Monroe to Gallatin, May 6, 1813; Gallatin’s Writings, 1. 542.

[307] Gallatin to Monroe, May 8, 1813; Gallatin’s Writings, i. 544.

[308] Armstrong to Wilkinson, Feb. 16, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii.
339.

[309] Minutes of a Council of War, Aug. 4, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs,
i. 498–503.

[310] Eustis to Wilkinson, April 15, 1812; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, i. 495.

[311] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, i. 507–522.

[312] Armstrong to Wilkinson, May 22, 1813; Wilkinson’s Memoirs, i. 521.

[313] Armstrong to Wilkinson, May 27, 1813; MSS. War Department Records.

[314] Hawkins’s Sketch, p. 24.

[315] U. S. Commissioners to Governor Irwin, July 1, 1796; State
Papers, Indian Affairs, i. 611.

[316] Talk of the Creek Indians, June 24, 1796; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 604.

[317] Life of Sam Dale, p. 59.

[318] Hawkins to the Creek Chiefs, June 16, 1814; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 845.

[319] Report of Alexander Cornells, June 22, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 845, 846.

[320] Hawkins to General Pinckney, July 9, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 848.

[321] Hawkins to the Creek Chiefs, March 29, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 839.

[322] Hawkins to Armstrong, Aug. 23, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i 851.

[323] Report of Alexander Cornells, June 23, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 846.

[324] Letter from Kaskaskias, Feb. 27, 1813; Niles, iv. 135.

[325] Hawkins to the Creek Chiefs, March 29, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 839.

[326] Hawkins to Armstrong, March 25, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 840.

[327] Report of the Big Warrior, April 26, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 843.

[328] Report of Nimrod Doyell, May 3, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 843.

[329] Report of Alexander Cornells, June 22, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 845.

[330] Talosee Fixico to Hawkins, July 5, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 847.

[331] Hawkins to Armstrong, July 20, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 849.

[332] Hawkins to Armstrong, Aug. 23, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 851.

[333] Carson to Claiborne, July 29, 1813; Life of Dale, p. 78.

[334] Hawkins to Floyd, Sept. 30, 1813; State Papers, Indian Affairs,
i. 854.

[335] Pickett’s Alabama, ii. 264.

[336] Life of Dale, 106.

[337] Hawkins to Armstrong, July 20, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 849.

[338] Hawkins to Floyd, Sept. 30, 1813; State Papers, Indian Affairs,
i. 854.

[339] Big Warrior to Hawkins, Aug. 4, 1813; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 851.

[340] Report of General Coffee, Nov. 4, 1813; Niles, v. 218.

[341] Jackson to Blount, Nov. 11, 1813; Niles, v. 267.

[342] Parton’s Jackson, i. 445.

[343] Blount to Jackson, Dec. 22, 1813; Parton’s Jackson, i. 479,
480–484.

[344] Hawkins’s Sketch, pp. 43, 44.

[345] Cocke to the Secretary of War, Nov. 28, 1813; Niles, v. 282, 283.

[346] Cocke to White; Parton’s Jackson, i. 451.

[347] Floyd to Pinckney, Dec. 4, 1813; Niles, v. 283.

[348] Pinckney to Armstrong, Dec. 28, 1813; MSS. War Department
Archives.

[349] Pinckney to Jackson, Jan. 19, 1814; MSS. War Department Archives.

[350] Parton, i. 864.

[351] Hawkins’s Sketch, p. 45.

[352] Jackson to Pinckney, Jan. 29, 1814; Niles, v. 427.

[353] Jackson to Pinckney, Jan. 29, 1814; Niles, v. 427.

[354] Jackson to Pinckney, Jan. 29, 1814; Niles, v. 427.

[355] Pickett’s Alabama, ii. 336.

[356] Jackson to Pinckney, Jan. 29, 1814; Niles v. 427.

[357] Letter from Milledgeville, March 16, 1814; “The War,” April 5,
1814.

[358] Floyd to Pinckney, Jan. 27, 1814; Niles, v. 411.

[359] Floyd to Pinckney, Feb. 2, 1814; Military and Naval Letters, p.
306. Hawkins to Armstrong, June 7, 1814; State Papers, Indian Affairs,
i. 858.

[360] Pinckney to the Governor of Georgia, Feb. 20, 1814; Niles, vi.
132.

[361] Pinckney to Colonel Williams, Dec. 23, 1813; MSS. War Department
Archives.

[362] Parton’s Jackson, i. 503.

[363] Parton’s Jackson, i. 454.

[364] Cocke’s Defence; “National Intelligencer,” October, 1852.
Parton’s Jackson, i. 455. Eaton’s Jackson, p. 155.

[365] Parton’s Jackson, i. 511.

[366] Col. Gideon Morgan to Governor Blount, April 1, 1814; Niles, vi.
148.

[367] Eaton’s Jackson, p. 156.

[368] Jackson to Pinckney, March 28, 1814; Military and Naval Letters,
p. 319.

[369] Coffee to Jackson, April 1, 1814; Niles, vi. 148.

[370] Colonel Morgan to Governor Blount, April 1, 1814; Niles, vi. 148.

[371] Jackson to Governor Blount, March 31, 1814; Niles, vi. 147.

[372] Jackson to Governor Blount, April 18, 1814; Niles, vi. 212. April
25, 1814; Niles, vi. 219.

[373] Hawkins to Pinckney, April 25, 1814; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 858.

[374] Hawkins to Armstrong, July 19, 1814; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 860.

[375] Abstract of Correspondence, Expedition to New Orleans, 1814–1815;
MSS. British Archives.

[376] Armstrong to Pinckney, March 17, 1814; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 836.

[377] Armstrong to Pinckney, March 20, 1814; State Papers, Indian
Affairs, i. 837.

[378] Madison to Armstrong, May 20, 1814; Madison’s Works, iii. 399.
Madison’s Works, iii. 400, 401.

[379] State Papers, Indian Affairs, i. 826.

[380] State Papers, Indian Affairs, i. 826.

[381] Proclamation and Notice; Niles, v. 264.

[382] Prices Current; Niles, v. 41.

[383] Table No. II.; Pitkin, p. 56.

[384] Table No. I.; Pitkin, p. 415.

[385] Admiral Warren to J. W. Croker, May 28, 1813; London “Gazette,”
July 6, 1813.

[386] Warren’s Report of May 28, 1813; London “Gazette.”

[387] Cockburn to Warren, May 3, 1813; London “Gazette,” July 6, 1813.

[388] Cassin to Secretary Jones, June 21, 1813; Niles, iv. 291.

[389] James, ii. 55.

[390] Report of Robert Taylor, July 4, 1813; Niles, iv. 324.

[391] James, ii. 54.

[392] Warren’s Report of June 24, 1813; James, ii. 414.

[393] James, ii. 59.

[394] Napier’s Life, i. 221.

[395] Warren’s Report of June 24, 1813; London “Gazette,” Aug. 10, 1813.

[396] Return, etc.; James, ii. 414, 415.

[397] Colonel Beatty’s Report of June 25, 1813; Niles, iv. 324.

[398] Warren’s Report of June 27, 1813; James, ii. 414.

[399] Niles, v. 302.

[400] Broke to Lawrence, June 1, 1813; Broke’s Life, 159. Niles, v. 29.

[401] Broke’s Life, pp. 150, 151.

[402] Broke’s Life, p. 156.

[403] Broke’s Life, pp. 160, 383.

[404] Letter of Captain Greene; James, Appendix, no. 35.

[405] James, p. 209.

[406] James, p. 202.

[407] James, p. 206; Roosevelt’s Naval War of 1812, p. 48.

[408] Lawrence’s Report of March 19, 1813; Niles, iv. 84.

[409] Biography; from “The Portfolio.” Niles, Supplement to vol. v. p.
29. Cooper’s Naval History, ii. 247.

[410] Broke’s Life, p. 333.

[411] Cooper’s Naval History, ii. 247.

[412] Life of Broke, p. 203.

[413] Evidence of Midshipman Edmund Russell; Court-Martial of
Lieutenant Cox. MSS. Navy Department Archives.

[414] List of killed and wounded; Life of Broke, p. 203.

[415] James, p. 216.

[416] Life of Broke, p. 170.

[417] Broke’s letter of challenge; James, Appendix, p. 36.

[418] Broke’s Life, p. 298.

[419] Broke’s Life, p. 300.

[420] Cobbett’s Debates, xxvi. 1160.

[421] Report of Captain Maples, Aug. 14, 1813; James, Appendix no. 42,
p. lxv.

[422] James, pp. 275–282.

[423] Report of Lieutenant Watson, March 2, 1815; Niles, viii. 43.

[424] Niles, v. 118.

[425] Report of Captain Maples, Aug. 14, 1813; Niles, v. 118. James,
Appendix no. 42.

[426] James, p. 273.

[427] Lieutenant Creighton to Secretary Jones, March 9, 1814; Niles,
vi. 69.

[428] Niles, vi. 391.

[429] James, p. 18.

[430] Coggeshall’s History of American Privateers, p. 188.

[431] Extract of letter from Captain Champlin; Niles, viii. 110.

[432] Extract from log, March 11, 1813; Niles, iv. 133.

[433] Shaler’s Report of Jan. 1, 1813; Niles, v. 429.

[434] London Gazette for 1813, p. 1574.

[435] Emmons’s Navy of the United States, pp. 170–197.

[436] Memorial of Baltimore merchants, Feb. 19, 1814; State Papers,
Naval Affairs, p. 300.

[437] Emmons’s Navy of the United States.

[438] Gallatin to Langdon Cheves, Dec. 8, 1812; Annals, 1812–1813, p.
434.

[439] Annals, 1813–1814, i. 473.

[440] Roads’s Marblehead, p. 255.

[441] Diary of J. Q. Adams, June 22, 1813, ii. 479.

[442] Castlereagh to Cathcart, July 5, 1813; MSS. British Archives.

[443] Castlereagh to Cathcart, July 13, 1813; MSS. British Archives.

[444] Castlereagh to Cathcart, July 14, 1813; Castlereagh Papers, Third
Series, i. 35.

[445] Baring to Gallatin, July 22, 1813; Gallatin’s Writings, i. 546.

[446] Castlereagh to Cathcart, Sept. 1, 1813; MSS. British Archives.

[447] Diary of J. Q. Adams, June 22, 1813, ii. 479.

[448] Adams to Monroe, June 26, 1813; MSS. State Department Archives.

[449] Diary of J. Q. Adams, July 23, 1813, ii. 489.

[450] Diary of J. Q. Adams, July 23, 1813, ii. 501.

[451] Castlereagh to Cathcart, July 14, 1813; Castlereagh’s Papers,
Third Series, i. 35.

[452] Diary of J. Q. Adams, Nov. 23, 1813, ii. 539, 542.

[453] Diary of J. Q. Adams, April 2, 1814, ii. 593.

[454] Cathcart to Nesselrode, Sept. 1, 1813; State Papers, iii. 622.

[455] Diary of J. Q. Adams, April 23, 1814, ii. 599.

[456] Diary of J. Q. Adams, Sept. 10, 1813, ii. 531.

[457] Cathcart to Castlereagh, Sept. 25, 1813; MSS. British Archives.

[458] Diary of J. Q. Adams, Nov. 3, 1813, ii. 541.

[459] Diary of J. Q. Adams, April 2, 1814, ii. 591.

[460] Cathcart to Castlereagh, Dec. 12, 1813; Castlereagh Papers.

[461] The Times, Oct. 17, 1813.

[462] The Courier, July 27, 1813.

[463] The Courier, Nov. 4, 1813.

[464] Prevost to Wilkinson, Oct. 17, 1813; State Papers, Foreign
Relations, iii. 635. Bathurst to Prevost, Aug. 12, 1813; State Papers,
Foreign Relations, iii. 641.

[465] Proclamation of Nov. 10, 1813; Niles, v. 212.

[466] Message of Dec. 9, 1813; Annals, 1813–1814, p. 2031.

[467] Act laying an Embargo, Dec. 17, 1813; Annals, 1813–1814, p. 2781.

[468] Act of Jan. 25, 1814; Annals, 1813–1814, p. 2788.

[469] Annals, 1813–1814, p. 1965.

[470] Macon to Nicholson, April 6, 1814; Nicholson MSS.

[471] Gallatin MSS.

[472] Annals, 1813–1814, p. 928.

[473] Armstrong to Eppes, Feb. 10, 1814; Niles, vi. 94.

[474] Note to abstract of regular troops in service, January, 1814;
adjutant-general’s office. MSS. War Department Archives.

[475] Annals, 1813–1814, p. 940.

[476] Speech of Timothy Pitkin, Feb. 10, 1814; Annals, 1813–1814, p.
1297.

[477] Considerations on Currency, etc. By Albert Gallatin, 1831.
Statements II. and III., pp. 101, 103.

[478] Schedule, 1803–1837; Senate Document No. 38. Massachusetts
Legislature, 1838.

[479] Gallatin’s Considerations, p. 45.

[480] Gallatin’s Considerations, p. 45. Schedules II. and III., pp.
101, 103. Gallatin’s Writings, iii. 286, 357, 359.

[481] Gallatin’s Writings, iii. 284.

[482] Annals, 1813–1814, p. 1787.

[483] Serurier to Bassano, July 21, 1813; Archives des Aff. Étr. MSS.

[484] Serurier to Bassano, Dec. 10, 1813; Archives des Aff. Étr. MSS.

[485] Serurier to Bassano, Jan. 14, 1814; Archives des Aff. Étr. MSS.

[486] Serurier to Bassano, April 15, 1814; Archives des Aff. Étr. MSS.

[487] Serurier to Bassano, April 25, 1814; Archives des Aff. Étr. MSS.

[488] Ingersoll’s History, ii. 253.

[489] Macon to Nicholson, Feb. 8, 1814; Nicholson MSS.

[490] Madison to Pinkney, Jan. 29, 1814; Works, ii. 581.

[491] Macon to Nicholson, Feb. 17, 1814; Nicholson MSS.

[492] Report and Resolution of Dec. 16, 1814; Niles, v. 356.

[493] Granger to John Todd, February, 1814; New England “Palladium,”
March 4, 1814.

[494] Madison to Jefferson, April 19, 1811; Works, ii. 493.

[495] Works, iii. 384.

[496] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, i. 762.

[497] Memoir of Brown from the “Port Folio;” Niles, vii. 32.

[498] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 402.

[499] Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii. 65.

[500] Autobiography, p. 118.

[501] Dawson, p. 436; Lossing, p. 563.

[502] Armstrong to Jackson, May 23, 1814; Madison’s Works, iii. 376.

[503] Armstrong to Madison, May 20, 1814; Madison’s Works, iii. 375.

[504] Madison’s Works, iii. 375.

[505] Madison’s Works, iii. 377.

[506] Kosciusko Armstrong’s Notice of J. Q. Adams’s Eulogy on James
Monroe, p. 32, _note_.

[507] Dawson, p. 436.

[508] Gilman’s Monroe, p. 114.

[509] Monroe to Madison, Dec. 27, 1813; Monroe MSS. State Department
Archives.

[510] Monroe MSS. State Department Archives.

[511] Wilkinson to Armstrong, Nov. 24, and Dec. 8, 1813. State Papers,
Military Affairs, p. 480. Order of Arrest. Wilkinson’s Memoirs, iii.
Appendix v.

[512] Defence of General Hampton; “National Intelligencer,” June 7,
1814.

[513] Notices, etc., ii. 26.




Transcriber’s Notes


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