Spain had little reason to draw distinctions between friends, allies, and enemies. She could hardly stop to remember that the United States were filching a petty sand-heap in a remote corner of the world, at a time when England was “wresting” not one but all the splendid American provinces from their parent country, and when France was kneeling on the victim’s breast and aiming stab after stab at her heart.
CHAPTER XV.
The elections for the Twelfth Congress, as far as they took place in 1810, showed a change in public opinion, and not only reduced the Federalists to their old rank of a faction rather than a party, but also weakened the conservative Republicans of Jefferson’s school; while the losses of both strengthened a new party, which called itself Republican, but favored energy in government. Henry Clay and William Lowndes, John C. Calhoun and Felix Grundy, Langdon Cheves and Peter B. Porter, whatever they might at times say, cared little for Jeffersonian or Madisonian dogmas. The election which decided the character of the Twelfth Congress, by choosing men of this character to lead it, decided also the popular judgment on the Eleventh Congress, which had as yet run only half its course. Rarely in American history has any particular Congress been held in high popular esteem, but seldom if ever was a Congress overwhelmed by contempt so deep and general as that which withered the Eleventh in the midst of its career. Not only did Republicans and Federalists think alike for once, but even among the members themselves no one of weight had a good word to say of the body to which he belonged.
Quick to feel a popular rebuke, Congressmen submitted to punishment, and obeyed the orders they would rather have resisted; but their work in such a temper was sure to be done without good-will or good faith, for a body which had lost its own respect could hardly respect its successor. The American system of prolonging the existence of one Legislature after electing another, never worked worse in practice than when it allowed this rump Congress of 1809, the mere scourings of the embargo, to assume the task of preparing for the War of 1812, to which it was altogether opposed and in which it could not believe. No Congress had been confronted by greater perplexities. President Madison submitted to it a number of Executive acts more than doubtful in legality, which must all be approved; and these measures, when approved, led to a policy of war with England and Spain, which required great increase of Executive strength, careful reorganization of the Executive machinery, especially great care of the national credit and of its chief financial agents,—political duties of extreme difficulty and delicacy.
President Madison’s Annual Message, December 5, called attention to such business as he wished to present. Naturally, the revocation of the French Decrees took the first place. The President assumed that the revocation was complete, and that his proclamation was issued in regular course, “as prescribed by law,” the President having no discretion; but he admitted disappointment that the sequestered property had not been restored. “It was particularly anticipated that, as a further evidence of just disposition toward them, restoration would have been immediately made of the property of our citizens, seized under a misapplication of the principle of reprisals, combined with a misconstruction of a law of the United States. This expectation has not been fulfilled.” England had not yet relinquished her illegitimate blockades, and she avowed that the blockade of May, 1806, was comprehended in the subsequent Orders in Council; the withdrawal of that blockade had therefore been required by the President as one of the conditions of renewing intercourse with Great Britain. The state of the Spanish monarchy had produced a change in West Florida, a district “which though of right appertaining to the United States had remained in the possession of Spain, awaiting the result of negotiations for its actual delivery to them.” The Spanish authority being subverted, the President did not delay taking possession; “the legality and necessity of the course pursued assure me of the favorable light in which it will present itself to the Legislature.”
If this sketch of foreign affairs lacked perfect candor, the view of domestic concerns gave matter for other doubts. “With the Indian tribes,” said the Message, “the peace and friendship of the United States are found to be so eligible that the general disposition to preserve both continues to gain strength.” The story of Tippecanoe and Tecumthe soon threw new light on this assertion. To Indian friendship domestic prosperity succeeded, and the Message praised the economy and policy of manufactures. “How far it may be expedient to guard the infancy of this improvement in the distribution of labor by regulations of the commercial tariff, is a subject which cannot fail to suggest itself to your patriotic reflections.” A navigation law was also required to place American shipping on a level of competition with foreign vessels. A national university “would contribute not less to strengthen the foundations than to adorn the structure of our free and happy system of government.” Further means for repressing the slave-trade were required. Fortifications, arms, and organization of the militia were to be provided. The Military School at West Point needed enlargement.
Congress found more satisfaction in Gallatin’s Annual Report, sent to Congress a week afterward, than they could draw from Madison’s Message, for Gallatin told them that he had succeeded in bringing the current expenses within the annual income; and only in case they should decide to prohibit the importation of British goods after Feb. 2, 1811, should he need further legislation both to make good the revenue and to enforce the prohibition.
Congress lost no time. West Florida called first for attention; and Senator Giles, December 18, reported a bill extending the territory of Orleans to the river Perdido, in accordance with the President’s measures. In the debate which followed, Federalist senators attacked the President for exceeding the law and violating the Constitution. Their argument was founded on the facts already told, and required nothing more to support it; but the defence had greater interest, for no one could foretell with certainty by what expedient senators would cover an Executive act which, like the purchase of Louisiana itself, had best be accepted in silence as plainly beyond the Constitution. Henry Clay acted as the President’s champion, and explained on his behalf that the Act of Oct. 31, 1803, authorizing the President to occupy the ceded territory of Louisiana, was still in force, although regular possession to the Iberville had been taken, Dec. 20, 1803, in pursuance of that Act, without further demand on the part of the United States, and although the Act of March 20, 1804, providing for the temporary government of the territory, declared that “the Act passed the 31st day of October ... shall continue in force until the 1st day of October, 1804.” In face of this double difficulty,—the exhaustion of the power and its express limitation,—Clay asserted that the power had not been exhausted, and that the limitation, though apparently general, was intended only for the provisional government established by another portion of the Act of 1803. He produced in his support the Act of Feb. 24, 1804, empowering the President, to erect West Florida into a collection district whenever he deemed it expedient. “These laws,” continued Clay, “furnish a legislative construction of the treaty correspondent with that given by the Executive, and they vest in this branch of the government indisputably a power to take possession of the country whenever it might be proper in his discretion.”
Congress approved this opinion, which was in truth neither weaker nor stronger than the arguments by which the Louisiana purchase itself had been sustained. Fate willed that every measure connected with that territory should be imbued with the same spirit of force or fraud which tainted its title. The Southern States needed the Floridas, and cared little what law might be cited to warrant seizing them; yet a Virginia Republican should have been startled at learning that after October, 1803, every President, past or to come, had the right to march the army or send the navy of the United States at any time to occupy not only West Florida, but also Texas and Oregon, as far as the North Pole itself, since they claimed it all, except the Russian possessions, as a part of the Louisiana purchase, with more reason than they claimed West Florida.
As usual, the most pungent critic of Republican doctrines was Senator Pickering, who if he could not convince, could always annoy the majority. He replied to Clay, and in the course of his speech read Talleyrand’s letter of Dec. 21, 1804, which put an end to Monroe’s attempt to include West Florida in the Louisiana purchase. Nothing could be more apt; but nothing could be more annoying to the Administration, for Talleyrand’s letter was still secret. Confidentially communicated with other papers to Congress by Jefferson, Dec. 6, 1805, the injunction of secrecy had never been removed, and the publication tended to throw contempt on Madison not only for his past but particularly for his present dalliance with Napoleon. Pickering could charge, with more than usual appearance of probability, that West Florida was to be Madison’s reward for accepting the plainly deceptive pledge of Cadore’s letter of August 5. The Senate, with some doubts, resented Pickering’s conduct to a moderate extent. Samuel Smith moved it to be “a palpable violation of the rules;” and with the omission of “palpable,” the resolution was adopted. The deference to Executive authority which allowed so important a paper to be suppressed for five years showed more political sagacity than was proved in censuring Pickering by a party vote, which he would regard as a compliment, because he read a document that the Administration should have been ashamed not to publish and resent.