The Proclamation of Nov. 2, 1810, was not the only measure of the autumn which exposed the President to something more severe than criticism. At the moment when he challenged a contest with England on the assertion that Napoleon had withdrawn his decrees, Madison resumed his encroachments on Spain in a form equally open to objection.
The chaos that reigned at Madrid and Cadiz could not fail to make itself felt throughout the Spanish empire. Under British influence, Buenos Ayres in 1810 separated from the Supreme Junta, and drove out the viceroy whom the Junta had appointed. In April of the same year Caracas followed the example, and entered into a treaty with England, granting commercial preferences equally annoying to the Spaniards and to the United States. Miranda reappeared at the head of a revolution which quickly spread through Venezuela and New Grenada. A civil war broke out in Mexico. Even Cuba became uneasy. The bulky fabric of Spanish authority was shaken, and no one doubted that it must soon fall in pieces forever.
England and the United States, like two vultures, hovered over the expiring empire, snatching at the morsels they most coveted, while the unfortunate Spaniards, to whom the rich prey belonged, flung themselves, without leadership or resources, on the ranks of Napoleon’s armies. England pursued her game over the whole of Spanish America, if not by government authority, more effectively by private intrigue; while the United States for the moment confined their activity to a single object, not wholly without excuse.
As long as Baton Rouge and Mobile remained Spanish, New Orleans was insecure. This evident danger prompted Madison, when Secretary of State, to make a series of efforts, all more or less unfortunate, to gain possession of West Florida; and perhaps nothing but Napoleon’s positive threat of war prevented the seizure of Baton Rouge during Jefferson’s time. After that crisis, the subject dropped from diplomatic discussion; but as years passed, and Spanish power waned, American influence steadily spread in the province. Numerous Americans settled in or near the district of West Feliciana, within sight of Fort Adams, across the American border. As their number increased, the Spanish flag at Baton Rouge became less and less agreeable to them; but they waited until Buenos Ayres and Caracas gave notice that Spain could be safely defied.
In the middle of July, 1810, the citizens of West Feliciana appointed four delegates to a general convention, and sent invitations to the neighboring districts inviting them to co-operate in re-establishing a settled government. The convention was held July 25, and consisted of sixteen delegates from four districts, who organized themselves as a legislature, and with the aid or consent of the Spanish governor began to remodel the government. After some weeks of activity they quarrelled with the governor, charged him with perfidy, and suddenly assembling all the armed men they could raise, assaulted Baton Rouge. The Spanish fort, at best incapable of defence, was in charge of young Louis Grandpré, with a few invalid or worthless soldiers. The young man thought himself bound in honor to maintain a trust committed to him; he rejected the summons to surrender, and when the Americans swarmed over the ruinous bastions they found Louis Grandpré alone defending his flag. He was killed.
After capturing Baton Rouge, the Americans held a convention, which declared itself representative of the people of West Florida, and September 26 issued a proclamation, which claimed place among the curious products of that extraordinary time. “It is known to the world,” began this new declaration of independence,[260] “with how much fidelity the good people of this territory have professed and maintained allegiance to their legitimate sovereign while any hope remained of receiving from him protection for their property and lives.” The convention had acted in concert with the Spanish governor “for the express purpose of preserving this territory, and showing our attachment to the government which had heretofore protected us;” but the governor had endeavored to pervert those concerted measures into an engine of destruction; and therefore, “appealing to the Supreme Ruler of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, we do solemnly publish and declare the several districts composing the territory of West Florida to be a free and independent State.”
A few days afterward the convention, through its president, wrote to the Secretary of State, Robert Smith, urging the annexation of the new territory to the United States, but claiming all the public lands in the province for “the people of this Commonwealth, who have wrested the government and country from Spain at the risk of their lives and fortunes.”[261] These words accorded ill with their appeal to the Supreme Ruler of the world for the rectitude of their intentions, and their protest of “our inviolable fidelity to our king and parent country while so much as a shadow of legitimate authority remained to be exercised over us.” Yet neither with nor without their elaborate machinery of legitimate revolution could Madison have anything to do with them. Innumerable obstacles stood in his way. They declared the independence of territory which he had long since appropriated to the United States. This course alone withheld Madison from recognizing the new State; but other difficulties forbade any action at all. The Constitution gave the President no power to use the army or navy of the United States beyond the national limits, without the authority of Congress; and although extreme emergency might have excused the President in taking such action, no emergency existed in October, 1810, since Congress would meet within six weeks, and neither Spain, France, nor England could interfere in the interval. The President’s only legal course was to wait for Congress to take what measures seemed good.
Madison saw all this, but though aware of his want of authority, felt the strongest impulse to act without it. He described his dilemma to Jefferson in a letter written before he received the request for annexation, then on its way from Baton Rouge:[262]—
“The crisis in West Florida, as you will see, has come home to our feelings and interests. It presents at the same time serious questions as to the authority of the Executive, and the adequacy of the existing laws of the United States for territorial administration. And the near approach of Congress might subject any intermediate interposition of the Executive to the charge of being premature and disrespectful, if not of being illegal. Still, there is great weight in the considerations that the country to the Perdido, being our own, may be fairly taken possession of, if it can be done without violence; above all, if there be danger of its passing into the hands of a third and dangerous party.”
Casuistry might carry the United States government far. The military occupation of West Florida was an act of war against Spain. “From present appearances,” continued Madison, “our occupancy of West Florida would be resented by Spain, by England, and by France, and bring on, not a triangular, but quadrangular contest.” Napoleon himself never committed a more arbitrary act than that of marching an army, without notice, into a neighbor’s territory, on the plea that he claimed it as his own. None of Madison’s predecessors ventured on such liberties with the law; none of his successors dared imitate them, except under the pretext that war already existed by the act of the adverse government.