Jefferson and his Colleagues, A Chronicle of the Virginia Dynasty Spanish Derelicts in the New World byJohnson, Allen
It fell to the last, and perhaps least talented, President of the
Virginia Dynasty to consummate the work of Jefferson and Madison
by a final settlement with Spain which left the United States in
possession of the Floridas. In the diplomatic service James
Monroe had exhibited none of those qualities which warranted the
expectation that he would succeed where his predecessors had
failed. On his missions to England and Spain, indeed, he had been
singularly inept, but he had learned much in the rude school of
experience, and he now brought to his new duties discretion,
sobriety, and poise. He was what the common people held him to be
a faithful public servant, deeply and sincerely republican,
earnestly desirous to serve the country which he loved.
The circumstances of Monroe's election pledged him to a truly
national policy. He had received the electoral votes of all but
three States.[*] He was now President of an undivided country, not
merely a Virginian fortuitously elevated to the chief magistracy
and regarded as alien in sympathy to the North and East. Any
doubts on this point were dispelled by the popular demonstrations
which greeted him on his tour through Federalist strongholds in
the Northeast. "I have seen enough," he wrote in grateful
recollection, "to satisfy me that the great mass of our
fellow-citizens in the Eastern States are as firmly attached to
the union and republican government as I have always believed or
could desire them to be." The news-sheets which followed his
progress from day to day coined the phrase, "era of good
feeling," which has passed current ever since as a
characterization of his administration.
[* Monroe received 183 electoral votes and Rufus King, 34--the
votes of Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Delaware.]
It was in this admirable temper and with this broad national
outlook that Monroe chose his advisers and heads of departments.
He was well aware of the common belief that his predecessors had
appointed Virginians to the Secretaryship of State in order to
prepare the way for their succession to the Presidency. He was
determined, therefore, to avert the suspicion of sectional bias
by selecting some one from the Eastern States, rather than from
the South or from the West, hitherto so closely allied to the
South. His choice fell upon John Quincy Adams, "who by his age,
long experience in our foreign affairs, and adoption into the
Republican party," he assured Jefferson, "seems to have superior
pretentions." It was an excellent appointment from every point of
view but one. Monroe had overlooked--and the circumstance did him
infinite credit--the exigencies of politics and passed over an
individual whose vaulting ambition had already made him an
aspirant to the Presidency. Henry Clay was grievously
disappointed and henceforward sulked in his tent, refusing the
Secretaryship of War which the President tendered. Eventually the
brilliant young John C. Calhoun took this post. This South
Carolinian was in the prime of life, full of fire and dash,
ardently patriotic, and nationally-minded to an unusual degree.
Of William H. Crawford of Georgia, who retained the Secretaryship
of the Treasury, little need be said except that he also was a
presidential aspirant who saw things always from the angle of
political expediency. Benjamin W. Crowninshield as Secretary of
the Navy and William Wirt as Attorney-General completed the
circle of the President's intimate advisers.
The new Secretary of State had not been in office many weeks
before he received a morning call from Don Luis de Onis, the
Spanish Minister, who was laboring under ill-disguised
excitement. It appeared that his house in Washington had been
repeatedly "insulted" of late-windows broken, lamps in front of
the house smashed, and one night a dead fowl tied to his
bell-rope. This last piece of vandalism had been too much for his
equanimity. He held it a gross insult to his sovereign and the
Spanish monarchy, importing that they were of no more consequence
than a dead old hen! Adams, though considerably amused,
endeavored to smooth the ruffled pride of the chevalier by
suggesting that these were probably only the tricks of some
mischievous boys; but De Onis was not easily appeased. Indeed, as
Adams was himself soon to learn, the American public did regard
the Spanish monarchy as a dead old hen, and took no pains to
disguise its contempt. Adams had yet to learn the long train of
circumstances which made Spanish relations the most delicate and
difficult of all the diplomatic problems in his office.
With his wonted industry, Adams soon made himself master of the
facts relating to Spanish diplomacy. For the moment interest
centered on East Florida. Carefully unraveling the tangled skein
of events, Adams followed the thread which led back to President
Madison's secret message to Congress of January 3,1811, which was
indeed one of the landmarks in American policy. Madison had
recommended a declaration "that the United States could not see
without serious inquietude any part of a neighboring territory
[like East Florida] in which they have in different respects so
deep and so just a concern pass from the hands of Spain into
those of any other foreign power." To prevent the possible
subversion of Spanish authority in East Florida and the
occupation of the province by a foreign power--Great Britain was,
of course, the power the President had in mind--he had urged
Congress to authorize him to take temporary possession "in
pursuance of arrangements which may be desired by the Spanish
authorities." Congress had responded with alacrity and empowered
the President to occupy East Florida in case the local
authorities should consent or a foreign power should attempt to
occupy it.
With equal dispatch the President had sent two agents, General
George Matthews and Colonel John McKee, on one of the strangest
missions in the border history of the United States.
East Florida--Adams found, pursuing his inquiries into the
archives of the department--included the two important ports of
entry, Pensacola on the Gulf and Fernandina on Amelia Island, at
the mouth of the St. Mary's River. The island had long been a
notorious resort for smugglers. Hither had come British and
American vessels with cargoes of merchandise and slaves, which
found their way in mysterious fashion to consignees within the
States. A Spanish garrison of ten men was the sole custodian of
law and order on the island. Up and down the river was scattered
a lawless population of freebooters, who were equally ready to
raid a border plantation or to raise the Jolly Roger on some
piratical cruise. To this No Man's Land--fertile recruiting
ground for all manner of filibustering expeditions--General
Matthews and Colonel McKee had betaken themselves in the spring
of 1811, bearing some explicit instructions from President
Madison but also some very pronounced convictions as to what they
were expected to accomplish. Matthews, at least, understood that
the President wished a revolution after the West Florida model.
He assured the Administration-Adams read the precious missive in
the files of his office-that he could do the trick. Only let the
Government consign two hundred stand of arms and fifty horsemen's
swords to the commander at St. Mary's, and he would guarantee to
put the revolution through without committing the United States
in any way.
The melodrama had been staged for the following spring (1812).
Some two hundred "patriots" recruited from the border people
gathered near St. Mary's with souls yearning for freedom; and
while American gunboats took a menacing position, this force of
insurgents had landed on Amelia Island and summoned the Spanish
commandant to surrender. Not willing to spoil the scene by vulgar
resistance, the commandant capitulated and marched out his
garrison, ten strong, with all the honors of war. The Spanish
flag had been hauled down to give place to the flag of the
insurgents, bearing the inspiring motto Salus populi--suprema
lex. Then General Matthews with a squad of regular United States
troops had crossed the river and taken possession. Only the
benediction of the Government at Washington was lacking to make
the success of his mission complete; but to the general's
consternation no approving message came, only a peremptory
dispatch disavowing his acts and revoking his commission.
As Adams reviewed these events, he could see no other alternative
for the Government to have pursued at this moment when war with
Great Britain was impending. It would have been the height of
folly to break openly with Spain. The Administration had indeed
instructed its new agent, Governor Mitchell of Georgia, to
restore the island to the Spanish commandant and to withdraw his
troops, if he could do so without sacrificing the insurgents to
the vengeance of the Spaniards. But the forces set in motion by
Matthews were not so easily controlled from Washington. Once
having resolved to liberate East Florida, the patriots were not
disposed to retire at the nod of the Secretary of State. The
Spanish commandant was equally obdurate. He would make no promise
to spare the insurgents. The Legislature of Georgia, too, had a
mind of its own. It resolved that the occupation of East Florida
was essential to the safety of the State, whether Congress
approved or no; and the Governor, swept along in the current of
popular feeling, summoned troops from Savannah to hold the
province. Just at this moment had come the news of war with Great
Britain; and Governor, State militia, and patriots had combined
in an effort to prevent East Florida from becoming enemy's
territory.
Military considerations had also swept the Administration along
the same hazardous course. The occupation of the Floridas seemed
imperative. The President sought authorization from Congress to
occupy and govern both the Floridas until the vexed question of
title could be settled by negotiation. Only a part of this
programme had carried, for, while Congress was prepared to
approve the military occupation of West Florida to the Perdido
River, beyond that it would not go; and so with great reluctance
the President had ordered the troops to withdraw from Amelia
Island. In the spring of the same year (1813) General Wilkinson
had occupied West Florida--the only permanent conquest of the war
and that, oddly enough, the conquest of a territory owned and
held by a power with which the United States was not at war.
Abandoned by the American troops, Amelia Island had become a
rendezvous for outlaws from every part of the Americas. Just
about the time that Adams was crossing the ocean to take up his
duties at the State Department, one of these buccaneers by the
name of Gregor MacGregor descended upon the island as "Brigadier
General of the Armies of the United Provinces of New Granada and
Venezuela, and General-in-chief of that destined to emancipate
the provinces of both Floridas, under the commission of the
Supreme Government of Mexico and South America." This pirate was
soon succeeded by General Aury, who had enjoyed a wild career
among the buccaneers of Galveston Bay, where he had posed as
military governor under the Republic of Mexico. East Florida in
the hands of such desperadoes was a menace to the American
border. Approaching the problem of East Florida without any of
the prepossessions of those who had been dealing with Spanish
envoys for a score of years, the new Secretary of State was
prepared to move directly to his goal without any too great
consideration for the feelings of others. His examination of the
facts led him to a clean-cut decision: this nest of pirates must
be broken up at once. His energy carried President and Cabinet
along with him. It was decided to send troops and ships to the
St. Mary's and if necessary to invest Fernandina. This
demonstration of force sufficed; General Aury departed to conquer
new worlds, and Amelia Island was occupied for the second time
without bloodshed.
But now, having grasped the nettle firmly, what was the
Administration to do with it? De Onis promptly registered his
protest; the opposition in Congress seized upon the incident to
worry the President; many of the President's friends thought that
he had been precipitate. Monroe, indeed, would have been glad to
withdraw the troops now that they had effected their object, but
Adams was for holding the island in order to force Spain to
terms. With a frankness which lacerated the feelings of De Onis,
Adams insisted that the United States had acted strictly on the
defensive. The occupation of Amelia Island was not an act of
aggression but a necessary measure for the protection of
commerce--American commerce, the commerce of other nations, the
commerce of Spain itself. Now why not put an end to all friction
by ceding the Floridas to the United States? What would Spain
take for all her possessions east of the Mississippi, Adams
asked. De Onis declined to say. Well, then, Adams pursued,
suppose the United States should withdraw from Amelia Island,
would Spain guarantee that it should not be occupied again by
free- booters? No: De Onis could give no such guarantee, but he
would write to the Governor of Havana to ascertain if he would
send an adequate garrison to Fernandina. Adams reported this
significant conversation to the President, who was visibly shaken
by the conflict of opinions within his political household and
not a little alarmed at the possibility of war with Spain. The
Secretary of State was coolly taking the measure of his chief.
"There is a slowness, want of decision, and a spirit of
procrastination in the President," he confided to his diary. He
did not add, but the thought was in his mind, that he could sway
this President, mold him to his heart's desire. In this first
trial of strength the hardier personality won: Monroe sent a
message to Congress, on January 13, 1818, announcing his
intention to hold East Florida for the present, and the arguments
which he used to justify this bold course were precisely those of
his Secretary of State.
When Adams suggested that Spain might put an end to all her
worries by ceding the Floridas, he was only renewing an offer
that Monroe had made while he was still Secretary of State. De
Onis had then declared that Spain would never cede territory east
of the Mississippi unless the United States would relinquish its
claims west of that river. Now, to the new Secretary, De Onis
intimated that he was ready to be less exacting. He would be
willing to run the line farther west and allow the United States
a large part of what is now the State of Louisiana. Adams made no
reply to this tentative proposal but bided his time; and time
played into his hands in unexpected ways.
To the Secretary's office, one day in June, 1818, came a letter
from De Onis which was a veritable firebrand. De Onis, who was
not unnaturally disposed to believe the worst of Americans on the
border, had heard that General Andrew Jackson in pursuit of the
Seminole Indians had crossed into Florida and captured Pensacola
and St. Mark's. He demanded to be informed "in a positive,
distinct and explicit manner just what had occurred"; and then,
outraged by confirmatory reports and without waiting for Adams's
reply, he wrote another angry letter, insisting upon the
restitution of the captured forts and the punishment of the
American general. Worse tidings followed. Bagot, the British
Minister, had heard that Jackson had seized and executed two
British subjects on Spanish soil. Would the Secretary of State
inform him whether General Jackson had been authorized to take
Pensacola, and would the Secretary furnish him with copies of the
reports of the courts-martial which had condemned these two
subjects of His Majesty? Adams could only reply that he lacked
official information.
By the second week in July, dispatches from General Jackson
confirmed the worst insinuations and accusations of De Onis and
Bagot. President Monroe was painfully embarrassed. Prompt
disavowal of the general's conduct seemed the only way to avert
war; but to disavow the acts of this popular idol, the victor of
New Orleans, was no light matter. He sought the advice of his
Cabinet and was hardly less embarrassed to find all but one
convinced that "Old Hickory" had acted contrary to instructions
and had committed acts of hostility against Spain. A week of
anxious Cabinet sessions followed, in which only one voice was
raised in defense of the invasion of Florida. All but Adams
feared war, a war which the opposition would surely brand as
incited by the President without the consent of Congress. No
administration could carry on a war begun in violation of the
Constitution, said Calhoun. But, argued Adams, the President may
authorize defensive acts of hostility. Jackson had been
authorized to cross the frontier, if necessary, in pursuit of the
Indians, and all the ensuing deplorable incidents had followed as
a necessary consequence of Indian warfare.
The conclusions of the Cabinet were summed up by Adams in a reply
to De Onis, on the 23d of July, which must have greatly
astonished that diligent defender of Spanish honor. Opening the
letter to read, as he confidently expected, a disavowal and an
offer of reparation, he found the responsibility for the recent
unpleasant incidents fastened upon his own country. He was
reminded that by the treaty of 1795 both Governments had
contracted to restrain the Indians within their respective
borders, so that neither should suffer from hostile raids, and
that the Governor of Pensacola, when called upon to break up a
stronghold of Indians and fugitive slaves, had acknowledged his
obligation but had pleaded his inability to carry out the
covenant. Then, and then only, had General Jackson been
authorized to cross the border and to put an end to outrages
which the Spanish authorities lacked the power to prevent.
General Jackson had taken possession of the Spanish forts on his
own responsibility when he became convinced of the duplicity of
the commandant, who, indeed, had made himself "a partner and
accomplice of the hostile Indians and of their foreign
instigators." Such conduct on the part of His Majesty's officer
justified the President in calling for his punishment. But, in
the meantime, the President was prepared to restore Pensacola,
and also St. Mark's, whenever His Majesty should send a force
sufficiently strong to hold the Indians under control.
Nor did the Secretary of State moderate his tone or abate his
demands when Pizarro, the Spanish Minister of Foreign Affairs,
threatened to suspend negotiations with the United States until
it should give satisfaction for this "shameful invasion of His
Majesty's territory" and for these "acts of barbarity glossed
over with the forms of justice." In a dispatch to the American
Minister at Madrid, Adams vigorously defended Jackson's conduct
from beginning to end. The time had come, said he, when "Spain
must immediately make her election either to place a force in
Florida adequate at once to the protection of her territory and
to the fulfilment of her engagements or cede to the United States
a province of which she retains nothing but the nominal
possession, but which is in fact a derelict, open to the
occupancy of every enemy, civilized or savage, of the United
States and serving no other earthly purpose, than as a post of
annoyance to them."
This affront to Spanish pride might have ended abruptly a chapter
in Spanish-American diplomacy but for the friendly offices of
Hyde de Neuville, the French Minister at Washington, whose
Government could not view without alarm the possibility of a
rupture between the two countries. It was Neuville who labored
through the summer months of this year, first with Adams, then
with De Onis, tempering the demands of the one and placating the
pride of the other, but never allowing intercourse to drop. Adams
was right, and both Neuville and De Onis knew it; the only way to
settle outstanding differences was to cede these Spanish
derelicts in the New World to the United States.
To bring and keep together these two antithetical personalities,
representatives of two opposing political systems, was no small
achievement. What De Onis thought of his stubborn opponent may be
surmised; what the American thought of the Spaniard need not be
left to conjecture. In the pages of his diary Adams painted the
portrait of his adversary as he saw him--"cold, calculating,
wily, always commanding his temper, proud because he is a
Spaniard but supple and cunning, accommodating the tone of his
pretensions precisely to the degree of endurance of his
opponents, bold and overbearing to the utmost extent to which it
is tolerated, careless of what he asserts or how grossly it is
proved to be unfounded."
The history of the negotiations running through the fall and
winter is a succession of propositions and counter-propositions,
made formally by the chief participants or tentatively and
informally through Neuville. The western boundary of the
Louisiana purchase was the chief obstacle to agreement. Each
sparred for an advantage; each made extreme claims; and each was
persuaded to yield a little here and a little there, slowly
narrowing the bounds of the disputed territory. More than once
the President and the Cabinet believed that the last concession
had been extorted and were prepared to yield on other matters.
When the President was prepared, for example, to accept the
hundredth meridian and the forty-third parallel, Adams insisted
on demanding the one hundred and second and the forty-second; and
"after a long and violent struggle," wrote Adams, "he [De Onis] .
. . agreed to take longitude one hundred from the Red River to
the Arkansas, and latitude forty-two from the source of the
Arkansas to the South Sea." This was a momentous decision, for
the United States acquired thus whatever claim Spain had to the
northwest coast but sacrificed its claim to Texas for the
possession of the Floridas.
Vexatious questions still remained to be settled. The spoliation
claims which were to have been adjusted by the convention of 1802
were finally left to a commission, the United States agreeing to
assume all obligations to an amount not exceeding five million
dollars. De Onis demurred at stating this amount in the treaty:
he would be blamed for having betrayed the honor of Spain by
selling the Floridas for a paltry five millions. To which Adams
replied dryly that he ought to boast of his bargain instead of
being ashamed of it, since it was notorious that the Floridas had
always been a burden to the Spanish exchequer. Negotiations came
to a standstill again when Adams insisted that certain royal
grants of land in the Floridas should be declared null and void.
He feared, and not without reason, that these grants would
deprive the United States of the domain which was to be used to
pay the indemnities assumed in the treaty. De Onis resented the
demand as "offensive to the dignity and imprescriptible rights of
the Crown of Spain"; and once again Neuville came to the rescue
of the treaty and persuaded both parties to agree to a
compromise. On the understanding that the royal grants in
question had been made subsequent to January 24, 1818, Adams
agreed that all grants made since that date (when the first
proposal was made by His Majesty for the cession of the
Floridas) should be declared null and void; and that all grants
made before that date should be confirmed.
On the anniversary of Washington's birthday, De Onis and Adams
signed the treaty which carried the United States to its natural
limits on the southeast. The event seemed to Adams to mark "a
great epocha in our history." "It was near one in the morning,"
he recorded in his diary, "when I closed the day with
ejaculations of fervent gratitude to the Giver of all good. It
was, perhaps, the most important day of my life . . . . Let no
idle and unfounded exultation take possession of my mind, as if I
would ascribe to my own foresight or exertions any portion of the
event." But misgivings followed hard on these joyous reflections.
The treaty had still to be ratified, and the disposition of the
Spanish Cortes was uncertain. There was, too, considerable
opposition in the Senate. "A watchful eye, a resolute purpose, a
calm and patient temper, and a favoring Providence will all be as
indispensable for the future as they have been for the past in
the management of this negotiation," Adams reminded himself. He
had need of all these qualities in the trying months that
followed.
