by Mark Zuehlke
The pace of events now quickened, and all eyes in Washington turned toward the Atlantic in anticipation of Hornet’s imminent arrival. But by early May she still had not appeared, and Madison stuck to his guns that no war declaration could occur until she arrived. A Kentucky newspaper editor vented his frustration that a single ship should take on such prominence. “Ever since her sailing the cant word has been, the Hornet, the Hornet. What sting she will bring on her return.”29
On May 18, Madison was nominated Republican candidate for the next presidential race and five days later a bag of dispatches from the just-arrived Hornet was rushed to Washington. The news was disappointing. Joel Barlow, the minister to France, reported that no commercial treaty seemed imminent. The French were also unwilling to release the American ships they had impounded. For his part, Jonathan Russell, chargé d’affaires in London, reported that the orders-in-council were being strongly contested by British manufacturers but there was scant hope of their repeal. No instructions had been sent to the British minister to the United States to offer any olive branches.30
Finding France’s policy “puzzling,” Madison and his administration became suddenly hesitant. Gallatin was again vacillating away from war, and Monroe was falling into bouts of depression over its prospect. Had Madison thought back to a letter that Russell had sent to Monroe in July of 1811, while he was legation secretary to America’s French mission, France’s purpose might have been understood. “The great object” of Napoleon’s policy, Russell had written, was “to entangle us in a war with England.”31
Shortly after Hornet’s return, Clay led a deputation of congressional Republicans into a private meeting with Madison. Clay told the president that the time had come for decisive action and “that a majority of Congressmen would support war if the President recommended it.”32
On June 1, Madison did precisely that, and three days later the House voted for war by a margin of seventy-nine to forty-nine. The vote, however, was taken in secrecy and not announced, pending its adoption by the Senate. There the matter was more closely contested. Various senators presented motions to modify the effect of war or to limit its dimensions. One called for the Senate to approve only a maritime war, as it was on the seas that America’s rights had been violated. The motion was defeated on June 15 by a vote of eighteen to fourteen.
The following day, Bayard, who still believed that the British would rescind the orders-in-council, introduced a motion to “postpone the further consideration of the bill to the thirty-first day of October.” Now, he said, “was not a time at which war ought to be declared…. It is not enough that we have cause of war; we must see that we are prepared, and in a condition to make war. You do not go to war for the benefit of your enemy, but your own advantage; not to give proofs of a vain and heedless courage, but to assert your rights and redress your wrongs.” He pleaded for time to bring home American ships to save them from seizure, time to raise a proper army and to build a strong navy. “Was any nation ever less prepared for war?” Bayard asked. The senator warned that war would cause economic chaos because of the loss of trade that could not be elsewhere replaced. “The laws of war will operate still more extensively than the Orders-in-Council; and though no doubt we shall gratify the Emperor of France, we shall enjoy little commerce with his dominions. As it regards, therefore, our interest, it is found in protracting the present state of affairs.” The motion was defeated twenty-three to nine.33
On June 17, the Senate voted nineteen to thirteen in favour of immediate and unrestricted war. The next day, the House accepted a few minor Senate amendments to the war bill and then Madison fixed his signature to it. Then, noted government comptroller Richard Rush, the president personally visited the offices of War and Navy “in a manner worthy of a little commander in chief with his little round hat and huge cockade.”34
“We shall have war,” Clay wrote ecstatically. “Every patriot bosom must throb with anxious solicitude for the result. Every patriot arm will assist in making that result conducive to the glory of our beloved country.”35Henry Clay had his war.
Part Two
RELUCTANTLY TO WAR
SEVEN
While Disunion Prevails
SUMMER 1812
“At the moment of the declaration of war,” James Monroe later wrote, “the President, regretting the necessity which produced it, looked to its termination.” The secretary of state and the majority of James Madison’s administration were similarly minded. Monroe, however, was more ardent than the others in this desire. As a result, he indulged in the fanciful delusion that declaration of war alone would bring about the downfall of Secretary of Foreign Affairs Viscount Castlereagh, a hard-line supporter of the orders-in-council. Nobody in Washington, however, was aware that Britain’s government had been cast into disarray by Prime Minister Spencer Perceval’s assassination on May 11.
Perceval was gunned down by a deranged man named John Bellingham, who while imprisoned in Russia had sought assistance in securing his release from the British representative, Leveson Gower, but was refused any help. Upon serving out his sentence, Bellingham returned to Britain bankrupt and intent on revenge. Unable to locate Gower, he decided that Perceval—whom he had never met—would suffice. Bellingham was hanged for the murder.
Having only returned to the cabinet earlier that year to head the Foreign Affairs Department, Castlereagh handily survived the ensuing month-long cabinet reorganization, not only retaining that position but also being appointed leader of the House of Commons. Save for Prime Minister Lord Liverpool, this made him the cabinet’s most powerful member.
Ignorant of these events, Monroe considered that the continuing war with France was surely so calamitous that the British would prefer to treat rather than deny themselves all trade with America. Such were the growing shortages in Britain, Monroe believed, that the government must “afford vast facilities to our trade,” so that the United States could perhaps prosecute a war against that nation while simultaneously trading with it until peace was agreed. America should, he confided to John Taylor of Carolina, “open our ports & trade & fight & fight & trade.” If there was war, Monroe assured his friend, none of it would be fought on American soil and there would be no more loss of commercial trade than had been the case under the embargo or non-importation act.1
This rosy scenario, where the United States was spared any loss or inconvenience, was glaringly at odds with events already unfolding in Washington and elsewhere. The day after the declaration’s signing, Madison received Augustus Foster, the British minister to America. Foster, having assumed the post in the summer of 1811, had issued a stream of reports home detailing the many divisions present in American society and among its politicians regarding any discussion of war. The tenor of these notes had lulled Castlereagh into complacently believing no true crisis brewed and consequently no reconsideration of the orders-in-council was warranted. Now Foster belatedly attempted to limit the consequence of the war declaration by proposing that both sides avoid hostile acts until he could personally carry the declaration back to Britain. He would, of course, welcomely also take along any proposal Madison wished to send that might resolve the matter peacefully.
Hobbled by the necessity to offer no fodder to the many critics who accused him of lacking sufficient martial fire, Madison reluctantly declined this offer. Diplomatic relations between the two countries, the president said, must cease immediately. He would, however, leave chargé d’affaires Jonathan Russell in London to oversee treatment of prisoners, and Foster’s legation secretary, Anthony St. John Baker, could do the same in Washington. Desperate to offer some olive branch, no matter how meagre, Foster said Baker’s first duty would be to see to the repatriation of two of the seamen seized from Chesapeake five years earlier. They were, he reported, already aboard HMS Bramble en route from Halifax to American waters.
Madison received this news without comment, no doubt because those unfortunate sailors had long since been martyred to the cause
of war and their release was of no consequence. Instead, he assured Foster that British packet ships could pass freely under flag of truce between North America and Britain to sustain a limited channel for diplomatic communication through the offices of Baker and Russell.
Foster was still packing when a pouch of British newspapers borne by such a ship was delivered to Madison on June 22. The press reported that the British government might be on the verge of rescinding the orders-in-council. Realizing Liverpool’s government could have no knowledge yet that America had declared war and so must be responding purely to domestic opposition, Madison sensed an opportunity to secure peace and hurriedly invited Foster for a farewell visit. With Baker in tow, Foster reported to Madison’s office, where the president made it plain that he desired to eliminate the causes of the war in order to restore peace.
“If the Orders-in-Council were revoked,” Foster asked, “would peace be restored?”
Their revocation, Madison replied, and a “promise of negotiation given on the question of impressment … would suffice.” Great Britain, he added, “could not perhaps do more on the latter at present than offer to negotiate.” Foster pressed whether such a move by the British government would result in an immediate armistice, but Madison demurred that such a decision was the responsibility of Congress and could not be made until its next sitting. If the president unilaterally announced cessation of all military operations pending negotiations, Foster said he could guarantee that Vice-Admiral Herbert Sawyer, commanding the British fleet at Halifax, would reciprocate. Madison responded coldly that the war declaration granted the presidency a specific mandate that must be carried out without compromise or modification.
Frustrated by Madison’s alternating passive and aggressive tactics, Foster observed that the orders-in-council had been rendered pointless by the fact that now that America was at war scarcely a neutral nation remained; every country was pretty much aligned either with Britain or with France. Foster feared that the United States would now see fit to formally align with Bonaparte.
Madison countered this concern by asking whether Portugal and Spain were not bound by treaties to fight alongside Britain. “Not against the United States,” Foster replied, but did America plan to invade Florida? Foster wrote of Madison’s reply: “The President observed the Executive could not well be justified in stopping any expeditions which might have been undertaken at a time when perhaps alone they could be successful. It seemed indeed evident that he was decided to take Florida if he could, and for purposes of defense that something else might be done, probably Fort Malden taken.” That the Americans intended to clear the British out of Fort Malden, near Detroit, was worrisome because that was the first natural step toward an invasion of Upper Canada.
The meeting ended coolly. Outside the president’s office, Foster was taken aside by Monroe. The secretary of state promised he would meet informally with Baker and receive any communications from Foster through him. Thus, a thin line of formal communication was preserved, but with Atlantic crossing time averaging five to six weeks it was a tortuously slow path.2
Madison and his administration were classically caught on the horns of a dilemma of their own making. While seeking to avoid hostilities that might render peaceful settlement impossible, there was the at least equally pressing need to initiate operations intended to win victory. Yet, while rushing toward war, neither Congress nor the president had done much to enable the nation to wage one effectively.
The 35,603-man army Congress had approved existed only on paper. On June 6, War Secretary Dr. William Eustis had reported to Congress that the regular army numbered just 6,744 officers and men, with another 5,000 having been raised under the authorization to increase the army by 25,000 soldiers. Most of these troops were poorly trained and their officers either equally inexperienced or elderly veterans of the Revolutionary War.3 Theoretically the various state militias could supplement this total, but Congress had refused Madison the power to force militiamen to serve beyond American borders.4
Congress’s gutting of the navy bill left that service in even more parlous straits. Five frigates were in service and another five listing in harbours awaiting repairs. Additionally the navy could boast a mere three sloops, seven brigs, and sixty-two coastal gunboats. The latter were useless for anything beyond limited harbour defence. The navy mustered 4,000 seamen and 1,800 marines.
Given the paucity of ships and sailors, Secretary of the Navy Paul Hamilton’s inclination had been to preserve what he had by laying up all the ships in safe harbours. But Madison scotched that idea. He told Hamilton “not to despair of our navy; that though its numbers were small … it would do its duty.”5 That said, no naval strategy was agreed upon before war was declared.
When Madison donned his little military hat on June 18 and visited the Navy Office, he told Hamilton to grant Commodore John Rodgers and Capt. Stephen Decatur “every belligerent right.” These orders were rushed to New York City, where the thirty-nine-year-old Rodgers, who was the senior officer, “ten minutes after the receipt of … instructions … put to sea” intent on pursuing a British convoy out of Jamaica reportedly consisting of 100 merchantmen protected by a thin screen of warships. Rodgers had five ships: the frigates President, United States, and Congress, the sloop Hornet, and the brig Argus. Departing with such haste, the commodore was well out to sea when a more detailed set of orders arrived instructing him to sail northward with President and Hornet from the Virginia capes while Decatur headed southward from New York with the other three ships. Their joint purpose was to protect from Royal Navy seizure American merchantmen bound for U.S. ports.6
This revised order had emanated on Sunday, June 21, from Secretary of the Treasury Albert Gallatin, who knew that a great number of vessels bearing between one and one and a half million dollars of imports were to arrive over the next four weeks. The navy’s primary mission, he argued, must be to protect these ships, orders that “ought to have been sent yesterday … at all events, not one day longer ought to be lost.”7 Madison listened, issuing orders early Monday morning to “afford to our returning commerce all possible protection—nationally and individually.”8 But Rodgers and the fleet were long gone, so there was nothing Madison could do until he decided to return to port. Failure to agree on a naval strategy prior to hostilities had given Rodgers opportunity to do as he pleased, which perfectly suited the impetuous and daring sailor.
Planning for land operations had proceeded little better. Although congressmen like Henry Clay had boasted that Canada could be quickly and easily conquered, nobody had bothered to draft a real invasion strategy. No team of staff officers was assigned to the War Office to undertake such planning. Eustis, with only a dozen civilian staff, held a dizzying array of responsibilities that included being quartermaster general, commissary general, Indian commissioner, and commissioner of public lands.9 A civilian, Eustis’s only military experience was as a surgeon during the Revolutionary War.
The senior military officer was sixty-one-year-old Maj. Gen. Henry Dearborn, who had seen no action since the Revolution. Although his appointment to command of the Northern Department on January 27, 1812, was more due to political connections than past military record, responsibility for conducting land operations fell on his shoulders. With more verve than an eye for tactics, intelligence, or logistics, Dearborn envisioned a three-pronged invasion of Canada. In April, he submitted a formal plan to Madison and Eustis. A main column would advance on Montreal by way of Lake Champlain, while another struck along the Niagara River and the third swept out of Fort Detroit across Upper Canada. The latter force would be commanded by Brig. Gen. William Hull, governor of Michigan Territory, who had been persuaded by Madison to take a regular army commission for this purpose. No timetable coordinating the three offensives was developed, so it was assured that each would be launched independently of the others.
Hull had accepted his appointment on April 9 and received immediate instructions from Madison to “repair wit
h as little delay as possible to Detroit.”10 He responded that the many American inhabitants of Upper Canada would welcome his army as liberators. All agreed that the conquest of Canada would more than offset any gains the British might win with their supremacy at sea.11 Former president Thomas Jefferson offered regular counsel to his friend and successor Madison. “The acquisition of Canada this year as far as the neighbourhood of Quebec,” he said, “will be a mere matter of marching.”12
In truth, nobody knew what American forces would face once they crossed the border into Canada. The lack of intelligence was such that estimates of British troop strength were grossly understated while the naval presence on the North American station was equally inflated. Although Britain had almost 700 warships at sea, including 260 ships of the line and frigates, in North American waters there were only 3 ships of the line, 23 frigates, and 53 sloops, brigs, and schooners. These were spread out across the seas from the West Indies to Halifax to Newfoundland.13
For the defence of Canada, Lt. Gen. and Governor in Chief Sir George Prevost had roughly 5,600 regulars. Only about 1,200 of these were stationed in Upper Canada and they were scattered across a string of small garrisons. While on paper the militia in Lower Canada numbered an impressive 60,000, Prevost considered them “a mere posse, ill armed and without discipline.” In Upper Canada, there was potential to call up 10,000 militiamen, but Prevost believed only 4,000 trustworthy enough to consider arming. The rest might as likely desert to the Americans and turn their guns against the redcoats.14
The British could also depend on some support from native tribes, but to what extent was hard to predict. Before returning to Britain in October of 1811 to attend to urgent personal business, Upper Canada’s lieutenant governor Francis Gore reported on the strengths and allegiances of the various tribes that might be brought to the battlefield. Gore’s report illustrated that the British could expect limited support from the tribes remaining in Lower Canada, while the existence of Tecumseh’s confederacy on the western frontier could provide a significant number of warriors.