Fenimore Cooper began the seventeenth chapter of his classic history of the navy by some words of political wisdom which are applicable to this day, and apparently always will be: “Every form of government,” he says, “has evils peculiar to itself. In a democracy there exists a standing necessity for reducing everything to the average comprehension, the high intelligence of a nation usually conceding as much to its ignorance as it imparts. One of the worst consequences in a practical sense, of this compromise of knowledge, is to be found in the want of establishments that require foresight and liberality to be well managed, for the history of every democracy has shown that it has been deficient in the wisdom which is dependent on those expenditures that foster true economy, by anticipating evils and avoiding the waste of precipitation, want of system, and a want of knowledge.” In every epoch of difficulty—the French spoliations, the British impressments, the War of 1812, the Mexican War, our Civil War, and the Spanish War—this truth has been painfully apparent in the want of foresight and preparation of an adequate army and navy. It has cost us dear.
In 1801 came into power a new political school of which Jefferson was the great exponent. With strong French sympathies, he had not favored the naval war with France, and his party was bent upon naval economy. Thus an early act of his administration, which began March 4, 1801, was to carry into effect a law passed toward the close of the Congress which had just expired, it is true, but which had been elected under the new political inspiration. The law referred to empowered the President to sell all or any of the vessels of the navy with the exception of thirteen frigates, and obliged him to reduce the list of officers to nine captains, thirty-six lieutenants, and one hundred and fifty midshipmen. The selling of twenty of the smaller ships was not so great an evil in itself, as new ordnance was coming into use and small guns of light calibre, carrying balls from six to nine and twelve pounds, were being superseded by carronades—short guns with thin walls and very small charges. They were of two calibres, 32 and 24 pounders. The former with a powder charge of two pounds had a range of about 300 yards. It is evident that at long range the long gun with a much heavier charge had a great advantage. The carronade was only fit for close quarters. This change required vessels of much stouter build than the light sloops-of-war such as most of those sold were. But the mistake was that they were not replaced. The law of 1798 had authorized the building of six ships-of-the-line to carry 74 guns each. This was now unhappily suspended; an error bitterly to be repented.
It was a period of utmost world unrest when we were to be ground between the upper and nether millstones of Napoleonic authority and British arrogance. Depredations upon our commerce were constant, not only by Barbary corsairs but by highly civilized France and England which latter also for years impressed our seamen at will. It was a period when true statesmanship demanded a powerful naval force; when but a mere fraction of the losses by seizure of our merchant marine and of the cost of the War of 1812 would have built a fleet of ships-of-the-line and would have saved us both the spoliation and the war. But Jefferson, though he had taken the finer stand as to the Barbary outrages, seemed incapable of understanding that his views as to these were of universal application, and that they held good against Britain and France as well as against Algiers and Tripoli. He seemed obsessed with an enmity to any naval force. He expressed the view that a navy was “a ruinous folly.”[21] And in his annual message of December 15, 1802, advised “to add to our navy yard at Washington a dock within which our vessels may be laid up dry and under cover from the sun.” Perhaps no more extraordinary views as to national defence ever came from any one with a claim to be a statesman.
Jefferson’s election had only just been preceded by one of the most extraordinary incidents of our naval history: the impressment in 1800 of the frigate George Washington by the Dey of Algiers to carry a shipload of tribute to the Sultan of Turkey. This ship, commanded by Captain William Bainbridge, one of the most capable officers of our service, had been sent with our own tribute to Algiers, where he arrived September, 1800. The Dey had got into disfavor by making peace with France while Turkey was at war with that country on account of the occupancy of Egypt by Bonaparte. Hence the desire of the Dey for restoration to favor. He threatened instant war against the United States in case of Bainbridge’s refusal. The George Washington lay under the guns of the port and escape was extremely doubtful; there was the strong probability of the seizure of the ship, the slavery of the officers and crew, and the consequent subjection of our large commerce in the Mediterranean to destruction. Bainbridge, gallant man as he was, esteemed it his duty to sacrifice, possibly, his good name and comply. Our consul advised his so doing and he finally yielded, though in bitterness of spirit, aggravated by the attitude of the Dey, who said: “You pay me tribute by which you become my slaves. I have therefore a right to order you as I please.” The situation was but the outcome of years of compliance with such a system.
Bainbridge sailed on October 19, 1800, for Constantinople with a mixed cargo: an ambassador and suite of a hundred, a hundred negro women and children, four horses, a hundred and fifty sheep, twenty-five cattle, four lions, four tigers, four antelopes, twelve parrots, and funds and specie and presents amounting to nearly a million dollars; all this in a small ship with accommodations for a crew of 131. An element of humor in the situation was the necessity of laying the ship’s head to point to Mecca at the frequent times of prayer, one being stationed at the compass to insure correctness of direction. The fact that the ship was named George Washington added to the incongruity of the situation. Death had saved Washington himself from the pain of knowledge. The cruise, however, had one benefit, in making known our flag and country to the Turks. During his stay in Constantinople, Bainbridge’s personal qualities and the excellent order of his ship made a deep impression and were of lasting benefit to his country.
Throughout the year 1800 the attitude of the Dey of Tripoli had become steadily more threatening, and by February, 1801, he was demanding a new treaty with a payment of $250,000 and an annual tribute of $20,000. On May 10, 1801, he declared war, and about June 1st Captain Richard Dale (Paul Jones’s first lieutenant in the Bonhomme Richard) sailed from Hampton Roads with three frigates: the President, Philadelphia, and Essex, and the schooner Enterprise, to protect our commerce by blockade of Tripoli and Tunis if necessary. A humiliating element of the situation was the carrying of $30,000 which it was hoped the Dey of Tripoli would accept as a compensation for the annuity of naval stores.
Dale’s arrival off Tripoli caused much disturbance in the mind of the Dey, but nothing occurred until on August 1st, when the Enterprise captured a Tripolitan vessel of 14 guns and 80 men, after an action of three hours, which was returned to Tripoli an empty hulk, Dale’s orders not allowing him to take prizes, but to sink, burn, or destroy. This curious phase of things arose from the extraordinary views of President Jefferson as to his constitutional powers. War, as he saw things, could not exist except by declaration of Congress, however active the enemy in seizing American ships and making slaves of American citizens and seamen. The situation was remedied by Congress on February 6, 1802, which gave the President full powers to act, and was practically a declaration of war.
Dale had orders to sail for home in October if things should become peaceful, and was to leave the Mediterranean in any case by December 1st. For this there were two reasons: it was deemed unsafe to cruise in the Mediterranean in winter, and the crews were enlisted for but one year. Meanwhile, however, and despite the extraordinary views of the President, Dale carried out his semi-peaceful, semi-warlike orders, so far as to blockade Tripoli and capture ingoing vessels. In one of these were twenty Tripolitan soldiers and an officer, who were exchanged for three American prisoners. Dale completed his orders so far as to return in December with two ships only, leaving the Philadelphia and Essex; the first to watch Tripoli from Syracuse as a base, the second to observe two Tripolitan vessels blockaded at Gibraltar.
A new squadron was now formed with crews enlisted for two years. Commodore Morris was ordered to the command with his broad-pennant in the Chesapeake of such later ill-fortune. The other ships were the Constellation, New York, John Adams, Adams, and Enterprise. It is not often that a family finds itself so honored as was the Adams family in this instance, with two ships of the name in the same squadron. Isaac Chauncey commanded the Chesapeake, John Rodgers the John Adams, Isaac Hull was first lieutenant of the New York, and Oliver Hazard Perry was a midshipman in the Adams. All of these were to rise to high distinction.
The ships of the new squadron sailed as they could be got ready, the Chesapeake on April 27, 1802, the John Adams not until September 19th. There is no special need to follow the blockade of Tripoli by Morris’s squadron: the many attacks upon the galleys, generally so close in shore as to make it difficult to absolutely destroy them; the rough experiences and dangers on such a coast from heavy weather. There were conspicuous cases of gallantry and of conduct which went far to form the character of the service yet in its infancy. Lieutenant David Porter particularly gave evidence of his coming fame. Morris, relieved temporarily by Commodore Rodgers, went home in October, 1803, to meet undeserved charges of want of vigor in his command, which ended in wrongful dismissal from the service.