Jefferson and his Colleagues, A Chronicle of the Virginia Dynasty The Last Phase of Peaceable Coercion byJohnson, Allen
Three days after Jefferson gave his consent to the repeal of the
embargo, the Presidency passed in succession to the second of the
Virginia Dynasty. It was not an impressive figure that stood
beside Jefferson and faced the great crowd gathered in the new
Hall of Representatives at the Capitol. James Madison was a pale,
extremely nervous, and obviously unhappy person on this occasion.
For a masterful character this would have been the day of days;
for Madison it was a fearful ordeal which sapped every ounce of
energy. He trembled violently as he began to speak and his voice
was almost inaudible. Those who could not hear him but who
afterward read the Inaugural Address doubtless comforted
themselves with the reflection that they had not missed much. The
new President, indeed, had nothing new to say--no new policy to
advocate. He could only repeat the old platitudes about
preferring "amicable discussion and reasonable accommodation of
differences to a decision of them by an appeal to arms."
Evidently, no strong assertion of national rights was to be
expected from this plain, homespun President.
At the Inaugural Ball, however, people forgot their President in
admiration of the President's wife, Dolly Madison. "She looked a
queen," wrote Mrs. Margaret Bayard Smith. "She had on a pale
buff-colored velvet, made plain, with a very long train, but not
the least trimming, and beautiful pearl necklace, earrings, and
bracelets. Her head dress was a turban of the same colored velvet
and white satin (from Paris) with two superb plumes, the bird of
paradise feathers. It would be absolutely imporrisblefor any one
to behave with more perfect propriety than she did. Unassuming
dignity, sweetness, grace. Mr. Madison, on the contrary,"
continued this same warm-hearted observer, "seemed spiritless and
exhausted. While he was standing by me, I said, 'I wish with all
my heart I had a little bit of seat to offer you.' 'I wish so
too,' said he, with a most woebegone face, and looking as if he
could hardly stand. The managers came up to ask him to stay to
supper, he assented, and turning to me, 'but I would much rather
be in bed,' he said." Quite different was Mr. Jefferson on this
occasion. He seemed to be in high spirits and "his countenance
beamed with a benevolent joy." It seemed to this ardent admirer
that "every demonstration of respect to Mr. M. gave Mr. J. more
pleasure than if paid to himself." No wonder that Mr. Jefferson
was in good spirits. Was he not now free from all the anxieties
and worries of politics? Already he was counting on retiring "to
the elysium of domestic affections and the irresponsible
direction" of his own affairs. A week later he set out for
Monticello on horseback, never again to set foot in the city
which had witnessed his triumph and his humiliation.
The election of Madison had disclosed wide rifts in his party.
Monroe had lent himself to the designs of John Randolph and had
entered the list of candidates for the Presidency; and
Vice-President Clinton had also been put forward by other
malcontents. It was this division in the ranks of the opposition
which in the end had insured Madison's election; but factional
differences pursued Madison into the White House. Even in the
choice of his official family he was forced to consider the
preferences of politicians whom he despised, for when he would
have appointed Gallatin Secretary of State, he found Giles of
Virginia and Samuel Smith of Maryland bent upon defeating the
nomination. The Smith faction was, indeed, too influential to be
ignored; with a wry face Madison stooped to a bargain which left
Gallatin at the head of the Treasury but which saddled his
Administration with Robert Smith, who proved to be quite unequal
to the exacting duties of the Department of State.
The Administration began with what appeared to be a great
diplomatic triumph. In April the President issued a proclamation
announcing that the British orders-in-council would be withdrawn
on the 10th of June, after which date commerce with Great Britain
might be renewed. In the newspapers appeared, with this welcome
proclamation, a note drafted by the British Minister Erskine
expressing the confident hope that all differences between the
two countries would be adjusted by a special envoy whom His
Majesty had determined to send to the United States. The
Republican press was jubilant. At last the sage of Monticello was
vindicated. "It may be boldly alleged," said the National
Intelligencer, "that the revocation of the British orders is
attributable to the embargo."
Forgotten now were all the grievances against Great Britain.
Every shipping port awoke to new life. Merchants hastened to
consign the merchandise long stored in their warehouses;
shipmasters sent out runners for crews; and ships were soon
winging their way out into the open sea. For three months
American vessels crossed the ocean unmolested, and then came the
bitter, the incomprehensible news that Erskine's arrangement had
been repudiated and the over-zealous diplomat recalled. The one
brief moment of triumph in Madison's administration had passed.
Slowly and painfully the public learned the truth. Erskine had
exceeded his instructions. Canning had not been averse to
concessions, it is true, but he had named as an indispensable
condition of any concession that the United States should bind
itself to exclude French ships of war from its ports. Instead of
holding to the letter of his instructions, Erskine had allowed
himself to be governed by the spirit of concession and had
ignored the essential prerequisite. Nothing remained but to renew
the NonIntercourse Act against Great Britain. This the President
did by proclamation on August 9, 1809, and the country settled
back sullenly into commercial inactivity.
Another scarcely less futile chapter in diplomacy began with the
arrival of Francis James Jackson as British Minister in
September. Those who knew this Briton were justified in
concluding that conciliation had no important place in the
programme of the Foreign Office, for it was he who, two years
before, had conducted those negotiations with Denmark which
culminated in the bombardment and destruction of Copenhagen. "It
is rather a prevailing notion here," wrote Pinkney from London,
"that this gentleman's conduct will not and cannot be what we all
wish." And this impression was so fully shared by Madison that he
would not hasten his departure from Montpelier but left Jackson
to his own devices at the capital for a full month.
This interval of enforced inactivity had one unhappy consequence.
Not finding employment for all his idle hours, Jackson set
himself to read the correspondence of his predecessor, and from
it he drew the conclusion that Erskine was a greater fool than he
had thought possible, and that the American Government had been
allowed to use language of which "every third word was a
declaration of war." The further he read the greater his ire, so
that when the President arrived in Washington (October 1),
Jackson was fully resolved to let the American Government know
what was due to a British Minister who had had audiences "with
most of the sovereigns of Europe."
Though neither the President nor Gallatin, to whose mature
judgment he constantly turned, believed that Jackson had any
proposals to make, they were willing to let Robert Smith carry on
informal conversations with him. It speedily appeared that so far
from making overtures, Jackson was disposed to await proposals.
The President then instructed the Secretary of State to announce
that further discussions would be "in the written form" and
henceforth himself took direct charge of negotiations. The
exchange of letters which followed reveals Madison at his best.
His rapier-like thrusts soon pierced even the thick hide of this
conceited Englishman. The stupid Smith who signed these letters
appeared to be no mean adversary after all.
In one of his rejoinders the British Minister yielded to a flash
of temper and insinuated (as Canning in his instructions had
done) that the American Government had known Erskine's
instructions and had encouraged him to set them aside--had
connived in short at his wrongdoing. "Such insinuations," replied
Madison sharply, "are inadmissible in the intercourse of a
foreign minister with a government that understands what it owes
itself." "You will find that in my correspondence with you,"
wrote Jackson angrily, "I have carefully avoided drawing
conclusions that did not necessarily follow from the premises
advanced by me, and least of all should I think of uttering an
insinuation where I was unable to substantiate a fact." A fatal
outburst of temper which delivered the writer into the hands of
his adversary. "Sir," wrote the President, still using the pen of
his docile secretary, "finding that you have used a language
which cannot be understood but as reiterating and even
aggravating the same gross insinuation, it only remains, in order
to preclude opportunities which are thus abused, to inform you
that no further communications will be received from you."
Therewith terminated the American Mission of Francis James
Jackson.
Following this diplomatic episode, Congress Wain sought a way of
escape from the consequences of total nonintercourse. It finally
enacted a bill known as Macon's Bill No. 2, which in a sense
reversed the former policy, since it left commerce everywhere
free, and authorized the President, "in case either Great Britain
or France shall, before the 3d day of March next, so revoke or
modify her edicts as that they shall cease to violate the neutral
commerce of the United States," to cut off trade with the nation
which continued to offend. The act thus gave the President an
immense discretionary power which might bring the country face to
face with war. It was the last act in that extraordinary series
of restrictive measures which began with the Non-Intercourse Act
of 1806. The policy of peaceful coercion entered on its last
phase.
And now, once again, the shadow of the Corsican fell across the
seas. With the unerring shrewdness of an intellect never vexed by
ethical considerations, Napoleon announced that he would meet the
desires of the American Government. "I am authorized to declare
to you, Sir," wrote the Duc de Cadore, Minister of Foreign
Affairs, to Armstrong, "that the Decrees of Berlin and Milan are
revoked, and that after November 1 they will cease to have
effect--it being understood that in consequence of this
declaration the English are to revoke their Orders-in-Council,
and renounce the new principles of blockade which they have
wished to establish; or that the United States, conformably to
the Act you have just communicated [the Macon Act], cause their
rights to be respected by the English."
It might be supposed that President Madison, knowing with whom he
had to deal, would have hesitated to accept Napoleon's
asseverations at their face value. He had, indeed, no assurances
beyond Cadore's letter that the French decrees had been repealed.
But he could not let slip this opportunity to force Great
Britain's hand. It seemed to be a last chance to test the
effectiveness of peaceable coercion. On November 2, 1810, he
issued the momentous proclamation which eventually made Great
Britain rather than France the object of attack. "It has been
officially made known to this government," said the President,
"that the said edicts of France have been so revoked as that they
ceased, on the first day of the present month, to violate the
neutral commerce of the United States." Thereupon the Secretary
of the Treasury instructed collectors of customs that commercial
intercourse with Great Britain would be suspended after the 2d of
February of the following year.
The next three months were full of painful experiences for
President Madison. He waited, and waited in vain, for authentic
news of the formal repeal of the French decrees; and while he
waited, he was distressed and amazed to learn that American
vessels were still being confiscated in French ports. In the
midst of these uncertainties occurred the biennial congressional
elections, the outcome of which only deepened his perplexities.
Nearly one-half of those who sat in the existing Congress failed
of reelection, yet, by a vicious custom, the new House, which
presumably reflected the popular mood in 1810, would not meet for
thirteen months, while the old discredited Congress wearily
dragged out its existence in a last session. Vigorous
presidential leadership, it is true, might have saved the
expiring Congress from the reproach of incapacity, but such
leadership was not to be expected from James Madison.
So it was that the President's message to this moribund Congress
was simply a counsel of prudence and patience. It pointed out, to
be sure, the uncertainties of the situation, but it did not
summon Congress sternly to face the alternatives. It alluded
mildly to the need of a continuance of our defensive and
precautionary arrangements, and suggested further organization
and training of the militia; it contemplated with satisfaction
the improvement of the quantity and quality of the output of
cannon and small arms; it set the seal of the President's
approval upon the new military academy; but nowhere did it sound
a trumpet-call to real preparedness.
Even to these mild suggestions Congress responded indifferently.
It slightly increased the naval appropriations, but it actually
reduced the appropriations for the army; and it adjourned without
acting on the bill authorizing the President to enroll fifty
thousand volunteers. Personal animosity and prejudice combined to
defeat the proposals of the Secretary of the Treasury. A bill to
recharter the national bank, which Gallatin regarded as an
indispensable fiscal agent, was defeated; and a bill providing
for a general increase of duties on imports to meet the deficit
was laid aside. Congress would authorize a loan of five million
dollars but no new taxes. Only one bill was enacted which could
be said to sustain the President's policy--that reviving certain
parts of the Non-Intercourse Act of 1809 against Great Britain.
With this last helpless gasp the Eleventh Congress expired.
The defeat of measures which the Administration had made its own
amounted to a vote of no confidence. Under similar circumstances
an English Ministry would have either resigned or tested the
sentiment of the country by a general election; but the American
Executive possesses no such means of appealing immediately and
directly to the electorate. President and Congress must live out
their allotted terms of office, even though their antagonism
paralyzes the operation of government. What, then, could be done
to restore confidence in the Administration of President Madison
and to establish a modus vivendi between Executive and
Legislative?
It seemed to the Secretary of Treasury, smarting under the defeat
of his bank bill, that he had become a burden to the
Administration, an obstacle in the way of cordial cooperation
between the branches of the Federal Government. The factions
which had defeated his appointment to the Department of State
seemed bent upon discrediting him and his policies. "I clearly
perceive," he wrote to the President, "that my continuing a
member of the present Administration is no longer of any public
utility, invigorates the opposition against yourself, and must
necessarily be attended with an increased loss of reputation by
myself. Under those impressions, not without reluctance, and
after perhaps hesitating too long in the hopes of a favorable
change, I beg leave to tender you my resignation."
This timely letter probably saved the Administration. Not for an
instant could the President consider sacrificing the man who for
ten years had been the mainstay of Republican power. Madison
acted with unwonted promptitude. He refused to accept Gallatin's
resignation, and determined to break once and for all with the
faction which had hounded Gallatin from the day of his
appointment and which had foisted upon the President an unwelcome
Secretary of State. Not Gallatin but Robert Smith should go.
Still more surprising was Madison's quick decision to name Monroe
as Smith's successor, if he could be prevailed upon to accept.
Both Virginians understood the deeper personal and political
significance of this appointment. Madison sought an alliance with
a faction which had challenged his administrative policy; Monroe
inferred that no opposition would be interposed to his eventual
elevation to the Presidency when Madison should retire. What
neither for the moment understood was the effect which the
appointment would have upon the foreign policy of the
Administration. Monroe hesitated, for he and his friends had been
open critics of the President's pro-French policy. Was the new
Secretary of State to be bound by this policy, or was the
President prepared to reverse his course and effect a
reconciliation with England?
These very natural misgivings the President brushed aside by
assuring Monroe's friends that he was very hopeful of settling
all differences with both France and England. Certainly he had in
no wise committed himself to a course which would prevent a
renewal of negotiations with England; he had always desired "a
cordial accommodation." Thus reassured, Monroe accepted the
invitation, never once doubting that he would reverse the policy
of the Administration, achieve a diplomatic triumph, and so
appear as the logical successor to President Madison.
Had the new Secretary of State known the instructions which the
British Foreign Office was drafting at this moment for Mr.
Augustus J. Foster, Jackson's successor, he would have been less
sanguine. This "very gentlemanlike young man," as Jackson called
him, was told to make some slight concessions to American
sentiment--he might make proper amends for the Chesapeake affair
but on the crucial matter of the French decrees he was bidden to
hold rigidly to the uncompromising position taken by the Foreign
Office from the beginning--that the President was mistaken in
thinking that they had been repealed. The British Government
could not modify its orders-in-council on unsubstantiated rumors
that the offensive French decrees had been revoked. Secretly
Foster was informed that the Ministry was prepared to retaliate
if the American Government persisted in shutting out British
importations. No one in the ministry, or for that matter in the
British Isles, seems to have understood that the moment had come
for concession and not retaliation, if peaceful relations were to
continue.
It was most unfortunate that while Foster was on his way to the
United States, British cruisers would have renewed the blockade
of New York. Two frigates, the Melampus and the Guerriere, lay
off Sandy Hook and resumed the old irritating practice of holding
up American vessels and searching them for deserters. In the
existing state of American feeling, with the Chesapeake outrage
still unredressed, the behavior of the British commanders was as
perilous as walking through a powder magazine with a live coal.
The American navy had suffered severely from Jefferson's "chaste
reformation" but it had not lost its fighting spirit. Officers
who had served in the war with Tripoli prayed for a fair chance
to avenge the Chesapeake; and the Secretary of the Navy had
abetted this spirit in his orders to Commodore John Rodgers, who
was patrolling the coast with a squadron of frigates and sloops.
"What has been perpetrated," Rodgers was warned, "may be again
attempted. It is therefore our duty to be prepared and determined
at every hazard to vindicate the injured honor of our navy, and
revive the drooping spirit of the nation."
Under the circumstances it would have been little short of a
miracle if an explosion had not occurred; yet for a year Rodgers
sailed up and down the coast without encountering the British
frigates. On May 16, 1811, however, Rodgers in his frigate, the
President, sighted a suspicious vessel some fifty miles off Cape
Henry. From her general appearance he judged her to be a
man-of-war and probably the Guerriere. He decided to approach
her, he relates, in order to ascertain whether a certain seaman
alleged to have been impressed was aboard; but the vessel made
off and he gave chase. By dusk the two ships were abreast.
Exactly what then happened will probably never be known, but all
accounts agree that a shot was fired and that a general
engagement followed. Within fifteen minutes the strange vessel
was disabled and lay helpless under the guns of the President,
with nine of her crew dead and twenty-three wounded. Then, to his
intense disappointment, Rodgers learned that his adversary was
not the Guerriere but the British sloop of war Little Belt, a
craft greatly inferior to his own.
However little this one-sided sea fight may have salved the pride
of the American navy, it gave huge satisfaction to the general
public. The Chesapeake was avenged. When Foster disembarked he
found little interest in the reparations which he was charged to
offer. He had been prepared to settle a grievance in a
good-natured way; he now felt himself obliged to demand
explanations. The boot was on the other leg; and the American
public lost none of the humor of the situation. Eventually he
offered to disavow Admiral Berkeley's act, to restore the seamen
taken from the Chesapeake, and to compensate them and their
families. In the course of time the two unfortunates who had
survived were brought from their prison at Halifax and restored
to the decks of the Chesapeake in Boston Harbor. But as for the
Little Belt, Foster had to rest content with the findings of an
American court of inquiry which held that the British sloop had
fired the first shot. As yet there were no visible signs that
Monroe had effected a change in the foreign policy of the
Administration, though he had given the President a momentary
advantage over the opposition. Another crisis was fast
approaching. When Congress met a month earlier than usual,
pursuant to the call of the President, the leadership passed from
the Administration to a group of men who had lost all faith in
commercial restrictions as a weapon of defense against foreign
aggression.
