Long afterward Madison objected[172] to the common accounts of the war, that they brought too little into view “the more immediate impulse to it” given by this formal notice communicated to him officially by Foster, which left no choice between war and degradation. He regarded this notice as making further discussion impossible. His idea was perhaps too strongly asserted, for Foster offered, under other instructions, a new and important concession,—that England should give up altogether her system of licensing trade with the Continent, and in its place should enforce a rigorous blockade;[173] but Madison and Monroe declined listening to any offer that did not admit in principle the right of the United States to trade with every European country.[174] Thus at the last moment the dispute seemed to narrow itself to the single point of belligerent right to blockade a coast.
Acting at once on the theory that Castlereagh’s instructions of April 10 gave the last formal notice intended by the British government, President Madison prepared a Message recommending an immediate declaration of war. This Message was sent to Congress June 1; the two Houses instantly went into secret session, and the Message was read. No one could dispute the force of Madison’s long recital of British outrages. For five years, the task of finding excuses for peace had been more difficult than that of proving a casus belli; but some interest still attached to the arrangement and relative weight of the many American complaints.
Madison, inverting the order of complaints previously alleged, began by charging that British cruisers had been “in the continued practice of violating the American flag on the great highway of nations, and of seizing and carrying off persons sailing under it.” The charge was amply proved, was not denied, and warranted war; but this was the first time that the Government had alleged impressment as its chief grievance, or had announced, either to England or to America, the intention to fight for redress,—and England might fairly complain that she had received no notice of intended war on such ground. The second complaint alleged that British cruisers also violated the peace of the coasts, and harassed entering and departing commerce. This charge was equally true and equally warranted war, but it was open to the same comment as that made upon the first. The third grievance on which the President had hitherto founded his coercive measures consisted in “pretended blockades, without the presence of an adequate force and sometimes without the practicability of applying one,” by means of which American commerce had been plundered on every sea,—a practice which had come to its highest possible development in the fourth grievance, the sweeping system of blockades known as the Orders in Council. These four main heads of complaint covered numbers of irritating consequences, but no other separate charge was alleged, beyond an insinuation that the hostile spirit of the Indians was connected with their neighborhood to Canada.
On the four great grievances thus defined every American could in theory agree; but these admitted wrongs had hitherto been endured as a matter of expediency, rather than resort to war; and the opposition still stood on the ground that had been so obstinately held by Jefferson,—that war, however just, was inexpedient. If union in the war policy was to be hoped, the President must rather prove its expediency than its justice. Even from his own point of view, two doubts of expediency required fresh attention. For the first time, England showed distinct signs of giving way; while on the other hand France showed only the monomania of insisting on her decrees, even to the point of conquering Russia. In the face of two such movements, the expediency of war with England became more than ever doubtful; and if the President wished for harmony, he must remove these doubts. This he did not attempt, further than by alluding to the sense of Castlereagh’s late despatch, as yet not in his possession. What was still more remarkable, he said nothing in regard to the contract with France, which since November, 1809, he had made the ground for every measure of compulsion against England. Indeed, not only was the contract ignored, but if any meaning could be placed on his allusions to France, the theory of contract seemed at last to be formally abandoned.
“Having presented this view of the relations of the United States with Great Britain, and of the solemn alternative growing out of them, I proceed to remark that the communications last made to Congress on the subject of our relations with France will have shown that since the revocation of her decrees, as they violated the neutral rights of the United States, her government has authorized illegal captures by its privateers and public ships; and that other outrages have been practised on our vessels and our citizens. It will have been seen, also, that no indemnity had been provided, or satisfactorily pledged, for the extensive spoliations committed under the violent and retrospective orders of the French government against the property of our citizens, seized within the jurisdiction of France. I abstain at this time from recommending to the consideration of Congress definite measures with respect to that nation.”
The war of 1812 was chiefly remarkable for the vehemence with which, from beginning to end, it was resisted and thwarted by a very large number of citizens who were commonly considered, and who considered themselves, by no means the least respectable, intelligent, or patriotic part of the nation. That the war was as just and necessary as any war ever waged, seemed so evident to Americans of another generation that only with an effort could modern readers grasp the reasons for the bitter opposition of large and respectable communities which left the government bankrupt, and nearly severed the Union; but if students of national history can bear with patience the labor of retaining in mind the threads of negotiation which President Madison so thoroughly tangled before breaking, they can partially enter into the feelings of citizens who held themselves aloof from Madison’s war. In June, 1812, the reasons for declaring war on Great Britain, though strong enough, were weaker than they had been in June, 1808, or in January, 1809. In the interval the British government had laid aside the arrogant and defiant tones of Canning’s diplomacy; had greatly modified the Orders in Council; had offered further modifications; and had atoned for the “Chesapeake” outrage. In 1807 England would have welcomed a war with the United States; in 1812 she wanted peace, and yielded much to secure it. In 1808 America was almost unanimous, her government still efficient, well supplied with money, and little likely to suffer from war; in 1812 the people were greatly divided, the government had been weakened, and the Treasury was empty. Even Gallatin, who in 1809 had been most decided for war, was believed in 1812 to wish and to think that it might be avoided. Probably four fifths of the American people held the same opinion. Not merely had the situation in every other respect changed for the worse, but the moral convictions of the country were outraged by the assertion of a contract with Napoleon—in which no one believed—as the reason for forcing religious and peaceful citizens into what they regarded as the service of France.
The war Message of June 1 rather strengthened than removed grounds of opposition. The President alleged but one reason for thinking war expedient at that moment rather than at another; but when in after years he insisted that Castlereagh’s instructions were the immediate cause which precluded further negotiation, he admitted his own mistake, and presumed that had Congress known what was then passing in England the declaration of war would have been suspended and negotiations renewed.[175] Such a succession of mistakes, admitted one after another almost as soon as they were made, might well give to Madison’s conduct the air so often attributed to it, of systematic favor to Napoleon and equally systematic hostility to England.
The House went at once into secret session; the Message was referred to the Committee of Foreign Relations; and two days afterward, June 3, Calhoun brought in a report recommending an immediate appeal to arms. As a history of the causes which led to this result, Calhoun’s report was admirable, and its clearness of style and statement forced comparisons not flattering to the President’s Message; but as an argument for the immediate necessity of war, the report like the Message contented itself with bare assertions. “The United States must support their character and station among the nations of the earth, or submit to the most shameful degradation.” Calhoun’s arguments were commonly close in logic, and avoided declamation; but in the actual instance neither he nor his followers seemed confident in the strength of their reasoning.
After the House had listened in secret session, June 3, to the reading of this report, Josiah Quincy moved that the debate should be public. The demand seemed reasonable. That preliminary debates should be secret might be proper, but that war with any Power, and most of all with England, should be declared in secret could not be sound policy, while apart from any question of policy the secrecy contradicted the professions of the party in power. Perhaps no single act, in a hundred years of American history, showed less regard for personal and party consistency than the refusal by the Republicans of 1812 to allow society either rights or privileges in regard to the declaration of war upon England. Quite apart from military advantages to be hoped from secrecy, Henry Clay and his friends were weary of debate and afraid of defeat. Only a few days before, May 29, Clay forced Randolph from the floor by tactics which showed that no more discussion was to be allowed. The secret session gave the Speaker absolute power, and annihilated opposition. By seventy-six votes to forty-six, the House rejected Quincy’s motion; and a similar motion by Randolph shared the same fate.
This demand being refused, the minority declined further discussion. They said that any act of theirs which admitted the validity of what they held to be a flagrant abuse of power could do no good, and might create a dangerous precedent. Henceforward they contented themselves with voting. On the same day Calhoun presented the bill declaring war against England, and on the second reading the opposition swelled to forty-five votes; while of the Republican majority, numbering about one hundred and five members, only seventy-six could be brought to the test. June 4 the third reading was carried by a vote of seventy-eight to forty-five, and the same day the bill passed by a vote of seventy-nine to forty-nine.