“Our relations with that nation are vitally interesting,” he wrote.[47] “That they should be of a peaceable and friendly character has been our most earnest desire. Had Spain met us with the same disposition, our idea was that her existence on this hemisphere and ours should have rested on the same bottom, should have swum or sunk together. We want nothing of hers, and we want no other nation to possess what is hers; but she has met our advances with jealousy, secret malice, and ill-faith. Our patience under this unworthy return of disposition is now on its last trial, and the issue of what is now depending between us will decide whether our relations with her are to be sincerely friendly or permanently hostile. I still wish, and would cherish, the former, but have ceased to expect it.”
Jefferson had the faculty, peculiar to certain temperaments, of seeing what he wished to see, and of believing what he willed to believe. Few other Americans could have seriously talked of the Spanish empire in America as swimming or sinking with that of the United States; but Jefferson, for the moment, thought that the earthen pot of Spanish dominion could trust itself to float safely under charge of the iron energy of American democracy. He could gravely say in regard to Spain, “we want nothing of hers,” when for eighteen months he had exhausted every resource, short of force, to gain Baton Rouge, Mobile, and Pensacola, not to speak of East Florida and Texas. He charged that Spain met his advances with jealousy, secret malice, and ill-faith, after his ministers had intrigued with Napoleon for nearly two years, in the constant hope of depriving her of her property. Dec. 13, 1804, he wrote to General Heath: “With Spain we shall always be bickering, but never at war till we seek it;”[48] and six months later he wrote to Bowdoin that her secret malice and ill faith were leading to permanently hostile relations. He had not much further to go; for if he meant to maintain his authority among rulers, the war that would never come till he sought it must be sought.
As Monroe’s overthrow became more and more evident, the President grew uneasy, and turned restlessly from one device to another. In the first days of August Monroe’s despatches arrived, announcing that he had left Madrid, and that all his offers had been rejected by Spain. Madison was in Philadelphia, where his wife was detained by a long and troublesome lameness. The President was at Monticello. A brisk interchange of letters took place, marking from day to day the fluctuations of feeling peculiar to the characters of the two men. One question alone was to be decided,—should they seize this moment to break with Napoleon?
Madison’s first reflections reached no result. He shrank from admitting that the government stood between war and humiliation more dangerous than war.
“The business at Madrid,” he said, August 2,[49] “has had an awkward termination, and if nothing, as may be expected, particularly in the absence of the Emperor, should alleviate it at Paris, involves some serious questions. After the parade of a mission extraordinary, a refusal of all our overtures in a haughty tone without any offer of other terms, and a perseverance in withdrawing a stipulated provision for claims admitted to be just, without ex post facto conditions manifestly unreasonable and inadmissible, form a strong appeal to the honor and sensibility of this country.”
The conclusion drawn from this somewhat mild review was not such as Monroe, Armstrong, or Livingston had recommended.
“I find that, as was apprehended from the tenor of former communications,” continued the secretary, “the military status quo in the controverted districts, the navigation of the rivers running through West Florida, and the spoliations subsequent to the convention of 1802 have never had a place in the discussions. Bowdoin may perhaps be instructed, consistently with what has passed, to propose a suspension of the territorial questions, the deposit, and the French spoliations, on condition that those points be yielded, with an incorporation of the convention of 1802 with a provision for subsequent claims. This is the utmost within the Executive purview. If this experiment should fail, the question with the Legislature must be whether or not resort is to be had to force, to what extent, and in what mode. Perhaps the instructions to Bowdoin would be improved by including the idea of transferring the sequel of business hither. This would have the appearance of an advance on the part of Spain, the more so as it would be attended with a new mission to this country, and would be most convenient for us also, if not made by Spain a pretext for delay.”
Madison, after enduring one “refusal of all our overtures in a haughty tone,” suggested that another be invited. The slightly patronizing air which characterized Jefferson’s attitude toward Madison, but which he never betrayed toward Gallatin, was explained by this want of directness in Madison’s nature, and by the habitual slowness of his decisions. The action suggested by Madison threw the control of events into the hands of France. This at least was the opinion of Jefferson, whose mind was wrought by the news from Pinckney to a state of steadily growing alarm.
“I think the status quo, if not already proposed, should be immediately offered through Bowdoin,” wrote Jefferson, August 4, before receiving Madison’s letter of August 2.[50] “Should it even be refused, the refusal to settle a limit is not of itself a sufficient cause of war, nor is the withholding a ratification worthy of such a redress. Yet these acts show a purpose, both in Spain and France, against which we ought to provide before the conclusion of a peace. I think, therefore, we should take into consideration whether we ought not immediately to propose to England an eventual treaty of alliance, to come into force whenever (within —— years) a war shall take place with Spain or France.”
Three days later he wrote again, and his alarm had increased:[51]—