Union and Democracy

by Allen Johnson

After the Non-Intercourse Act of 1809, Napoleon had begun the "sequestration" of American vessels in European ports. Sequestration proved to be only a euphemistic expression for confiscation. On May 14, he issued from Rambouillet a decree which authorized the seizure and condemnation of all American ships in French ports. With an eye to the needs of his war chest, the Emperor calculated that by drawing in this net he would make a catch amounting to about six million dollars. As a matter of fact, this was a conservative estimate. The American consul at Paris reported the seizure of one hundred and thirty-four vessels between April, 1809, and April, 1810. The actual loss to American shipowners could not have been less than ten millions of dollars.

The news of the passage of Macon's bill suggested another stroke to the wily conqueror of Europe. On August 5, he announced to the American Minister that the decrees of Berlin and Milan were revoked and would be inoperative after November 1, "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," and that the United States, conforming to its act of May 1, 1810, would "cause their rights to be respected by the English."

Accepting this letter at its face value, with a credulity which now seems incredible, President Madison proclaimed on November 2 that France had withdrawn its decrees, and that in consequence commercial intercourse with Great Britain would be suspended on and after February 2, 1811. Madison's haste was due to a very natural desire to coerce Great Britain into a similar renunciation, but to his chagrin, the British Ministry refused to accept the mere notification of Napoleon as evidence of the repeal of the various decrees. Even the supporters of the Administration became uneasy as months passed without any formal edict of revocation. Might not the courts adjudge that the decrees had not been repealed pro forma? The Administration was greatly perturbed in December, too, by the news that two American vessels had been sequestered at Bordeaux. After much hesitation, Congress came to the support of the President and revived the Non-Intercourse Act against Great Britain, at the same time admitting the weakness of its position by the additional provision that the courts should not entertain the question whether the French decrees were or were not revoked. On the same day, February 28, 1811, Pinkney took formal leave of the Prince Regent under circumstances which presaged, if they did not imply, a rupture of diplomatic relations. Yet the British Ministry had so little comprehension of the temper of the American people that at this very moment Wellesley was drafting instructions for the new Minister, Mr. Augustus John Foster, which bade him yield not a jot or a tittle to the alleged rights of neutrals. He was, however, to make proper reparation for the Chesapeake affair.

In these months of struggle for the rights of neutral commerce, the question of impressments had been relegated to second place in the minds of Americans. The blockade of New York by British frigates in the spring of 1811 suddenly revived the old controversy. For a year past an American squadron under the command of Commodore John Rodgers had patrolled the coast, under instructions to protect all merchantmen from molestation by armed foreign cruisers within the three-mile limit.

The British frigate Guerrière had made itself particularly offensive by its search crews and arbitrary seizures of alleged deserters. On May 16, 1811, Commodore Rodgers's flagship, the frigate President carrying forty-four guns, sighted a British sloop-of-war some fifty miles east of Cape Henry, which he believed to be the Guerrière, and wishing to make inquiries about a certain seaman who was reported to have been impressed, Rodgers sailed toward the stranger. The vessel acted in a manner which was thought suspicious, so the President gave chase. On coming within range about dusk, the American frigate was fired upon, so it was alleged in a subsequent court of inquiry. The President then opened its batteries and in less than fifteen minutes had overpowered the British corvette. To his surprise and disappointment, Rodgers then learned that his antagonist was not the Guerrière, but the Little Belt, a vessel far inferior to his own and carrying only twenty guns. When the new British Minister arrived in Washington, he found the Administration singularly indifferent to the historic Chesapeake affair. In the opinion of the American public, the President had avenged the Chesapeake.

While Congress was vacillating between non-intercourse and partial non-intercourse, in the early months of 1810, with a strong inclination toward the path of least resistance, one voice was raised for war. Henry Clay was then filling out an unexpired term in the Senate upon appointment by the Governor of Kentucky. Born in Virginia, thirty-three years before, he had sought his fortune as a young lawyer in the new communities beyond the Alleghanies. Closely identified with the aggressive spirit of his section, he voiced a growing sense of humiliation that his country should be buffeted by every British ministry. The people of Kentucky and Tennessee had little patience with half measures in defense of national rights. The petty diplomacy of closet statesmen did not appeal to the soul of the frontiersman who was accustomed to hew his way to his goal. The people of this section, imperial in its dimensions, were prepared for large tasks done in a bold way. Their ideas of the Union transcended the policies of Eastern statesmen, whose eyes saw no farther than the tops of the Alleghanies and whose ears listened all too readily to the admonitions of European chancellors. Clay spoke heatedly of the "ignominious surrender of our rights"—heritage of the heroes of the Revolution. He would have Congress exhibit the vigor of their forbears. "The conquest of Canada is in your power," he cried. "I trust I shall not be deemed presumptuous when I state that I verily believe that the militia of Kentucky alone are competent to place Montreal and Upper Canada at your feet." This was a new and unfamiliar style of oratory in the Senate of the United States.

At this moment, however, the United States seemed far more likely to acquire the Floridas than Canada. In the summer of 1810, Americans who had crossed the border and settled in and around the district of West Feliciana rose in revolt against the Spanish governor at Baton Rouge, and declared West Florida a free and independent state, appealing to the Supreme Ruler of the world for the rectitude of their intentions. What their intentions were appeared in a petition to the President for annexation to the United States. This was an opportune moment for the realization of the hopes which Madison had cherished ever since the acquisition of Louisiana. On October 27, 1810, he issued a proclamation, announcing that Governor Claiborne would take possession of West Florida to the river Perdido, in the name of the United States.

Not satisfied with this achievement, President Madison called attention in a secret message to the condition of East Florida and asked Congress for authority to take temporary possession of any part or parts of the territory. With equal secrecy Congress gave the desired authorization, and the President immediately sent two commissioners with large discretionary powers to the St. Mary's River. In March, 1812, another "revolution" took place. The Spanish governor of East Florida was forced to surrender and to permit the occupation of Amelia Island in the name of the United States. The farce was too broad, however, even for the eager Administration. The President was obliged to disavow the acts of his agents. But Amelia Island was not evacuated until May, 1813, and West Florida was never released. After much deliberation Congress annexed part of the region to the new State of Louisiana and joined the rest to the Territory of Mississippi.

In the Northwest also American pioneers were overrunning the bounds, not those fixed by international agreement, to be sure, but those marked by Indian treaties, which commanded even less respect. A society which believed that the only good Indian was a dead Indian was not likely to be over-nice in its appraisal of his property rights. The line of intercourse marked by the Treaty of Greenville in 1795 had receded somewhat as home-seekers had pushed their way up the rivers from the Ohio into the Indiana Territory; but the vast interior around the upper waters of the Wabash River was still closed to white men. Governor William Henry Harrison fully shared the irritation of the settlers that Indians should monopolize the best lands. He was therefore a willing agent of the President when in 1804 and 1805 he took advantage of the necessities of certain chieftains, whom he called "the most depraved wretches on earth," to despoil whole tribes of their lands, under the guise of treaties.

Among the better class of Indians this policy aroused the bitterest resentment. The rise of Tecumseh, son of a Shawnee warrior, and of his brother the Prophet, dates from this time. It was the aim of these remarkable individuals to prevent the further alienation of Indian lands by limiting the authority of irresponsible local chiefs and conferring it upon a congress of warriors from all allied tribes. During the year 1808, Tecumseh and the Prophet laid the foundation of a confederacy by establishing an Indian village on Tippecanoe Creek, one hundred and fifty miles above Vincennes.