by Ron Carter
“The mad ambition, the lust for power, and commercial avarice of Great Britain, have left to neutral nations an alternative only between the base surrender of their rights and a manly vindication of them. I plead most vigorously an immediate appeal to arms.”
The Calhoun report was delivered to Attorney General William Pinckney. When the text was read by the Federalists they recoiled in horror and sought to have the veil of secrecy lifted for open public debate. The Republicans, a strong majority in the House, voted them down, and the debate proceeded behind closed doors. Two days later—a near record for such a shocking matter as a declaration of war—the Republicans forced the vote. Those in favor, 79; those against, 49.
The matter went to the Senate, where debate raged hot and heavy, with attempts made to limit the declaration to maritime war only, and to include France in any declaration of war. The members of the House of Representatives were riveted with the split they were seeing in the Senate, and James Madison hardly slept or rested.
On June 17, 1812, the vote was held on the original bill, which had survived all proposed amendments. The senators in favor, 19; those against, 13.
That night, President Madison slept soundly for the first time in seventeen days. The following morning, June 18, 1812, he sat once again at his desk with quill in hand and carefully read the simple document Congress had delivered to him. It lacked some things he would have included had it been his creation, but he was satisfied with it as it was. He carefully signed his name, and the bill became law.
For the second time in his lifetime, the United States had declared war on England.
Notes
On June 1, 1812, President Madison drafted and then submitted a secret document to the United States Congress with the intent of delivering his views on the question of war with England. Included in Madison’s reasoning was the political setting of the time, with the majority of Americans openly favoring such a war. The American populace was divided into two parties at the time, the Republicans and the Federalists, with the Republicans decidedly the larger and more powerful of the two. Madison, a Republican, saw need to prepare for the election that he would be facing in November and calculated correctly that his hopes for reelection would be considerably enhanced if the nation was at war when the election arrived, since the voting public would be prone to favor retaining the acting president in office to perpetuate the national effort to win the war. He also had the serious problem of lack of money as a result of the staggering debt inherited from the Revolutionary War some thirty-five years earlier, combined with Jefferson’s purchase of the Louisiana Territory in 1803 with borrowed money—eleven million additional dollars. The document Madison created was many, many pages longer than what appears in this chapter; however, the parts of it as they appear herein are direct, verbatim quotations of the document he produced. In this manner, the writer of this book attempted to capture the intent of the document, and any shortcomings are the fault of the author. The document was delivered to the House of Representatives on June 2, and John C. Calhoun, acting chair of the Foreign Relations Committee, added his words to make it slightly stronger than Madison’s effort, and delivered it to the House on June 3. It was passed by the House on a 79–49 vote within two days and went to the Senate. The Senate became embroiled in attempted amendments and argued it hotly, but finally, on June 17, passed the bill as originally received, by the narrow margin of 19 to 13. On June 18, President Madison signed it into law, and it was made known to the public. The addition of the comments of John C. Calhoun, as found herein, are direct, verbatim quotations.
The United States had declared war on England.
For the complete text of Madison’s secret message to Congress, see Messages and Papers of the Presidents, Volume II, pp. 484–490. For the responses to the secret message and additions of John C. Calhoun, see Hickey, The War of 1812, p. 44; for the vote count in both the House and Senate, see Horsman, The Causes of the War of 1812, pp. 260–262; for the financial condition of the United States at the time in question, see Stagg, Mister Madison’s War, pp. 130–135, and generally, pp. 130–176; for the five points on which Madison accused the British of illegal and insulting acts, and which five points form the basis of his secret message to Congress, see Hickey, The War of 1812, p. 44; Barbuto, Niagara 1814, p. 6. In general support, see also Wills, James Madison, pp. 69–96; Barbuto, Niagara 1814, pp. 6–11.
Part Two
Boston
June 22, 1812
CHAPTER XI
* * *
A soft, steady, warm, summer morning rain was falling beneath a gray, overcast sky to seal Boston into a hot, humid day that slowly diminished the spirit of the town and left people wilted, quiet, glancing at clocks as they counted the hours until they could be home, out of their damp clothing, into something cooler and less confining.
The waterfront had much the appearance of a dying thing, with ships tied to less than half the docks, and none standing at anchor in the harbor with their sails furled, waiting for their rotation to load or unload a cargo. dockhands and ship crews, including captains and officers, and the men who owned the ships and cargoes labored in worried silence, preoccupied with the single question that dominated the entire Boston peninsula: When will the blockades be lifted and the rights of free commerce on the high seas be restored; When will Boston become once again a bustling seaport with ships and crews and dockhands straining to handle the cargoes, both coming and going? When will prosperity return? Or, with an all-out war with England in the making, are Boston and the sea commerce of America doomed?
Just before noon, John Dunson stepped into the White Pearl tavern near Fruit Street and walked to the desk where an elderly man with a useless leg sat on a high stool, spectacles at the end of his nose, thin gray hair pulled back. The old man peered at John over his spectacles.
“Mail?”
“Yes. Anything for us?”
The gnarled fingers shuffled through a stack, drew out half a dozen sealed envelopes and a newspaper and handed them to John.
“Here it is. Say hello to Matthew and Billy.”
John nodded, and as he turned toward the front door, he unfolded the four-page newspaper. Eyes wide, he stopped and quickly scanned the first page, then barged on through the door and out into the rain, to trot back east along the waterfront to the office of Dunson & Weems.
Inside the office, the sound of the door being thrown open brought the heads of Matthew Dunson and Billy Weems up from the documents spread on their desks, and Matthew stared at his son, silently asking the question.
“War!” John exclaimed.
Matthew and Billy both stood and strode to the front counter where John spread the newspaper for them to read.
“France or England?” Matthew asked. “Or both?”
John’s voice was high, excited. “England! Last week. Congress declared war on England. President Madison signed the declaration. Announced it to the newspapers on Thursday the eighteenth. We’re at war.”
For a moment Matthew and Billy stared at John in disbelief, and then Billy rounded his mouth and blew air. “It finally happened. We’re there.”
The three men clustered to silently read the great, bold headlines. “WAR DECLARED ON ENGLAND.”
“I knew it was coming,” Matthew murmured, “but it’s still a shock when it happens.”
John pointed to the two-column article. “That’s not all. It looks like Madison intends invading Canada.”
Billy’s eyes narrowed, and his forehead creased in doubt. “Canada? He thinks we can take Canada?”
Matthew was shaking his head. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Read it!”
For thirty seconds the room was silent as Matthew and Billy read the article.
“I don’t think we stand a chance of taking Canada,” Matthew said. “Not now, not with the army we have.”
Billy stepped back to the huge map of the world that was attached to the wall of the austere office. His finger traced a line f
rom the Atlantic ocean to the left end of Lake Erie. “Fourteen hundred miles of lakes and rivers and almost no roads through those forests. Ten years ago Jefferson thought we could take it just by marching up there. Today? There are as many Canadians and English and Indians up there as there are Americans, and they’re a lot more familiar with the territory than we are. That newspaper article says President Madison thinks we can take Canada and use her for a bargaining pawn. If England will give us freedom of the seas and ports, we’ll return Canada to her.” He shook his head. “I doubt it can be done.”
Matthew spoke. “The key to that whole area is not by land. It’s by water. You can reach all of it—from the Atlantic to Detroit—by the rivers and the Great Lakes, and right now the British navy controls them all.” He tapped the map with a forefinger as he recited. “Quebec, Montreal, Prescott, Kingston, York, Stoney Creek, Fort George, Fort Erie, Moraviantown, Amherstburg—all on Canadian soil, all distant from each other, all accessible from the water—the St. Lawrence, Lake Ontario, Lake Erie. To take them all by land and hold them, we would have to divide our army into units so small there’s no chance of success. I think we do it by water, not land, and that means we’ll be fighting a naval war, not a land war.”
Billy looked at Matthew, then John, then at the floor for a moment before he spoke. “Eli’s up there trying to forestall a war. I hope he hears about this before the Canadians do. I doubt they’ll hesitate to shoot him if they find out first.”
For a moment the men stared at each other with the growing awareness of the danger he was in and the fact that there was no way to warn him.
John broke in. “Congress has authorized money to expand the army. Maybe that will be enough.”
Billy shook his head. “To go fight in those woods? Territory the enemy knows, and we don’t? The trouble is that President Madison has never been in battle, and neither have most of our congressmen. Their notions of what will work up there fall far short of the reality. They just don’t know.”
Matthew picked up the half dozen pieces of mail and walked back to his desk and sat down, and Billy and John followed. Matthew leaned forward on his elbows.
“We’ve got to remember, this is all going to be decided by politics. The Republicans and Federalists in Washington, D.C., will collide, and what finally comes out of it could be disastrous. Good sense will take a beating, maybe get lost altogether. Did Congress authorize money to expand the navy? Not just the army?”
John shook his head. “No. Matter of fact, I think they reduced the number of ships we have.”
Matthew shook his head. “Who’s doing the thinking down there?”
Billy responded, “Politicians. I think General Washington had it right back in ’78 when he wrote to the old Continental Congress. Come on out here where we are at Valley Forge. Starve with us. Freeze. Get sick with us. Die with us and help bury our five hundred we lose each month. Maybe then you’ll learn enough to understand how a war is fought.”
John watched the hot light in Billy’s eyes recede and disappear.
Matthew reached for the mail. “Well,” he said, “there’s not much we can do about it right now.” He handed four of the envelopes to Billy. “Payments from customers.” He set the other few pieces on his own desk. “New contracts for business.” He went on. “John, on your way home stop and tell Mother I’ll be over to see her tonight. She’ll need to talk with someone about this declaration of war.”
“She’ll ask about Adam and Caleb.”
“Adam’s due back from Charleston. Caleb’s not due back from Philadelphia for a few days. Tell her not to worry. I’ll explain when I stop there on my way home.”
It was after one o’clock when the three hurried back to the White Pearl for their midday meal of chowder and bread, then ducked their heads against the rain to return to the office and the unending work of keeping accounts, answering correspondence, making contracts, tracking the maintenance records of their fleet of ships, hiring seamen and officers to sail them, negotiating for insurance. In the late afternoon the first breaks overhead showed patches and slivers of blue sky, and by five o’clock the sun was casting shadows eastward and tiny wisps of steam were rising from the puddled water. The three men were setting their desks in order when the door opened and Adam entered, satchel in one hand, his tunic in the other.
Not as tall as Matthew, built somewhat more thickly, dark hair and dark eyes, steady, tending to speak little, regular, strong features, Adam was a born leader. The three rose to meet him, relief showing as always when one of their ship captains returned from the open seas.
“Back safe,” Matthew exclaimed.
Adam smiled. “Good to be home.” He laid his tunic and satchel on the counter. “Too warm out there. Humid.”
“Could be worse,” Matthew answered.
“Any trouble?” Billy asked, grinning.
“None to speak of.” Adam pointed at the satchel. “Ship’s log’s in there. Payment for the last load with it.”
John took the satchel and walked back to the large, black vault.
Matthew asked, “You get the load of cotton?”
Adam hooked a finger over his shoulder. “In the ship, safe. I let the crew go for the night. They’ll be back tomorrow to unload. Is Brewerton ready to receive it?”
Billy nodded. “Yes. Right on time.”
“Good. Can you pay the crew tomorrow?”
“Got it in the vault,” Billy answered.
Adam leaned against the counter. “Did I hear it right? Congress declared war on England? President Madison’s talking about invading Canada?”
Matthew pointed at the newspaper. “It did. Last Thursday. And Madison is talking about invading Canada.”
For long moments Adam stared down at the countertop while his thoughts ran. He slowly exhaled. “David and Goliath. What is Madison going to use for the stone to put in his sling? The one that will hit England in the forehead and end this thing? Is he thinking of the army or the navy?”
Billy cut in. “No one knows yet. But either way, the stone won’t be big enough.”
Adam looked at them, first Billy and then Matthew, and then John. “It’s going to come down to the navy, one way or another.” He pointed at the map. “It will take an army twenty times what we have to occupy and hold all that land. And right now the British navy has total control of the rivers and Great Lakes.”
Adam fell silent, and a quiet fear arose in each man that everything they had had suddenly been plunged into a war that was going to demand it all. Their ships, their crews, their fortunes, their lives, their skills with men and the sea—everything they had built was at risk. None of them had the faintest hope that the United States could prevail against England’s vastly superior army and navy. For long moments they stood at the counter, struggling to rise above the sick knot that had risen in their chests.
“Well,” Matthew finally said, “it appears we have some plans to make. Adam, there’s no need to hold you here any longer tonight. Charlotte and the children are waiting. See you in the morning.”
Adam reached for his tunic. “How’s Mother?”
A cloud crossed Matthew’s face. “All right. We check on her every day. You might stop on the way home to let her see you. It does something for her to see us.”
Adam shook his head and a smile crossed his face. “Why won’t she come live with us? Take turns at our homes?
Matthew grinned. “Mother? Dependent?”
Adam grinned back. “Pardon me for asking. I’ll stop to see her for a minute. See you in the morning.”
He was at the front door when Matthew called, “Good to have you home. Say hello to Charlotte.”
The sun was touching the western rim when the three men walked out the door into the stifling, sweltering heat and the familiar sounds of seabirds squawking and quarreling and tides working against the pilings of the wharfs. They separated, Billy going home to Brigitte, John to Laura, and Matthew to Kathleen. Matthew struggled with his th
oughts, trying to restore some sense of dependable structure to a world that had been shattered by a declaration of war, but there was nothing left for a foundation. The very existence of the United States was in doubt! David and Goliath? At least David had a sling that he had mastered, and a smooth round stone. What does the United States have? An army and a navy that are impotent against the mightiest military power on the earth—no sling, no stone. If England were to crush the United States, what would become of everything they had fought for since that morning of April 19, 1775—thirty-seven years ago? Their wives—families—children—Dunson & Weems? His mind could not imagine it, nor could he force his thoughts to invent it.
He glanced up at the beauty of the sun catching the tops of the green trees that lined the streets as he came to the white picket fence he had known from earliest memory, and he pushed through the gate and onto the walkway to the front door. He did not knock, but pushed it open and stepped into the parlor.
“Mother?” he called.
The answer came from the open back door. “Matthew, is that you?”
“Yes. What are you doing out there?”
“Getting some ham from the root cellar.”
“You wait for me. I’ll get it.” He hurried through the house.
“Too late,” Margaret answered, “I’ve already got it. I’m coming in.”
“Mother,” Matthew scolded, “you know you shouldn’t be lifting that door and going up and down those stairs. What would happen if you fell? You wait until one of us is here.”
“Oh, fiddle,” Margaret said. “I can still go up and down stairs.”
She walked in, a little flushed, puffing, swaying slightly, carrying a chunk of ham on a wooden plate. “For supper,” she said, and Matthew took it from her and set it on the cupboard. He took her by one arm.
“Sit down for a minute. We need to talk.”
They sat down at the dining table, Matthew beside her. He did not sit at the head, where his father had presided until he took the British musket ball in his right lung that day in April, thirty-seven years earlier.