The War of 1812, Conflict and Deception This Book Was Published in Cooperation with the Battle of New Orleans Bicentennial Commission N

Home , Battle of Baltimore, Battle of Buffalo, Battle of Craney Island, Battle of the Thames, Battle of York, Burning of Washington

The War of 1812, Conflict and Deception This book was published in cooperation with the Battle of New Orleans Bicentennial Commission n

This book is made possible in part by a generous contribution from Ken and Fred Atchity

and with the assistance of the V. Ray Cardozier Fund war 1812 conflict and deception �e �� The British Attempt to Seize New Orleans and Nullify the Louisiana Purchase

Ronald J. Drez With a Foreword by W. Henson Moore

louisiana state university press baton rouge Published by Louisiana State University Press Copyright © 2014 by Ronald J. Drez All rights reserved Manufactured in the United States of America First printing

Designer: Barbara Neely Bourgoyne Typeface: MillerText Printer and binder: Maple Press

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Drez, Ronald J., 1940– The War of 1812, conflict and deception : the British attempt to seize NewO rleans and nullify the Louisiana Purchase / Ronald J. Drez. pages cm Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-0-8071-5931-6 (cloth : alk. paper) — ISBN 978-0-8071-5932-3 (pdf) — ISBN 978-0-8071-5933-0 (epub) — ISBN 978-0-8071-5934-7 (mobi) 1. United States— History—War of 1812. 2. New Orleans, Battle of, New Orleans, La., 1815. i. Title. E354.D74 2015 973.5'2—dc23 2014020834

The paper in this book meets the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Committee on Production Guidelines for Book Longevity of the Council on Library Resources. Dedicated to Roger and Aline Drez, who made this all possible This page intentionally left blank Conn te ts

foreword by W. Henson Moore ix acknowledgments xi Time Line for Louisiana xiii Time Line Leading to the Battle of New Orleans xv

introduction: The Enigma 1 1. louisiana 16 2. resentment and Provocation 37 3. fatal Confrontations: The Leander Affair, and Chesapeake versus Leopard 51 4. British Demands and Madison’s Resistance 70 5. on to Canada: War and Reality 94 6. The Eagle against the Leviathan 117 7. finally a General, or Two 136 8. war and Deception 169 9. The Grand Offensive 193 10. The Final Attack 225 epilogue 302

appendix: War Secretary Lord Bathurst’s Letter to Major General Pakenham, October 24, 1814 315 Notes 317 Bibliography 349 index 355 This page intentionally left blank Foreword

Good works on American history come and go. Hopefully we learn from them, and sometimes we learn something new. I am very excited about this work as not only will the reader learn, but it actually changes history. Not many books can make that claim. When the Battle of New Orleans Bicentennial Commission was created, its founding legislation envisioned twin missions of celebration and education. No one knew then of the possibility of actually rewriting what we have learned in the past about the Battle of New Orleans. We have all been taught that Gulf of Mexico campaign during the War of 1812 culminated in the conflict that took place on January 8, 1815.W hile a tremendous and unexpected military victory for Jackson and the United States, the battle, as we have also been told, was actually unnecessary as the Treaty of Ghent had been signed on December 24, 1815, effectively ending the war. If generals Jackson and Packenham had modern communications available to them, the battle would never have been fought. This conclusion of historians has probably done more than anything else to relegate this once celebrated event to the dustbin of American history. At one time, January 8 was one of only two national holidays, July 4 being the other. But what if this was not true? What if the battle was going to be fought by the aggressor even if he knew about the treaty? What if he had orders to do so even in the event of a treaty? Would history be wrong? Would this change history and restore this magnificent battle to the pantheon of our great national events? You must read on, learn the truth, and make up your own mind about the new history of the Battle of New Orleans. The new material revealing the necessity of the battle itself notwith- standing, this book is an excellent telling in a very readable style of the

ix x foreword events leading up to this climatic nineteenth-century confrontation between David and Goliath. You will undoubtedly enjoy it and learn more than you ever knew about this last crossing of swords by two countries that have remained strong allies ever since. The author is an accomplished military history writer and indefatigable researcher. This may be his greatest work because he does change history. This may also be the greatest leave-behind of the bicentennial of this truly historic battle. w. henson moore Chairman, Battle of New Orleans Bicentennial Commission Ac knowledgments

This book was initially made possible through the efforts of Louisiana State Representative Nicholas Lorusso, whose passion for history inspired him to commemorate “the series of battles of the War of 1812 collectively referred to as the Battle of New Orleans.” He introduced legislation stating that the bicentennial of the Battle of New Orleans be recognized and celebrated, particularly between Decem- ber 23, 2014, and January 8, 2015—the dates during which the United States and Great Britain fought the climactic battle of the War of 1812 two centuries ago. That legislation created the Battle of New Orleans Bicen- tennial Commission to “commemorate this anniversary through local and statewide observances, educational events, and activities planned, coordinated, and conducted by a commission for such a purpose.” The Honorable Henson J. Moore, formerly a Louisiana member in the United States House of Representatives, graciously accepted the challenge to chair this commission. In an effort to fulfill the commission’s charge to create a new, complete work on the war and the Battle of New Orleans, I worked under its guidelines to produce a book that would truly be accurate, commemorative, and educational. I am indebted to Dr. Gary Joiner, the Chairman of the history department at LSU in Shreveport, who painstak- ingly reviewed the work for its scope and contribution to the subject of the War of 1812. The professionals at LSU Press, under the leadership of director Mary Katherine Callaway, have all contributed their talents to bring the book to life, and it has been a pleasure to work with them. I owe a special thanks to Mary Lee Berner Harris, the curator of the Ur- suline Convent Collection in New Orleans, for the documents and research

xi xii acknowledgments that detailed the vital relationship between the Ursuline nuns, the battle, General Andrew Jackson, and the city of New Orleans. Finally, a special thanks to my wife, Judy, who continually combed through the manuscript to find better words to tell this remarkable story. Time Line for Louisiana

1682.R obert Cavelier de LaSalle claims the Mississippi River and the land drained by the river for Louis XIV and names it Louisiana—the Land of Louis. 1718. New Orleans is founded by Jean Baptiste Lemoyne de Bienville. 1722. New Orleans becomes the capital of the vast Louisiana Territory. 1762. following the British victory in the French and Indian War, or the Seven Years’ War, France secretly cedes to Spain the Louisiana territory west of the Mississippi River, including New Orleans, in the Treaty of Fontainebleau. This was to avoid losing the land to the victorious British. New Orleans falls under Spanish rule. 1763. The Treaty of Paris officially ends theS even Years’ War, and France cedes the eastern half of Louisiana to Great Britain. This is the area between the Mississippi River and the Appalachian Mountains. Spain also cedes East and West Florida to Great Britain, but New Orleans remains under Spanish rule. 1783. The Treaty of Paris ends the seven-year American Revolution, and Great Britain is forced to cede the eastern half of Louisiana to the United States and the colonies of East and West Florida back to Spain. The narrow strip of land south of the 31st parallel and north of the Gulf of Mexico is divided by the Apalachicola River. The capital of East Florida is Pensacola, and West Florida’s capital is St. Augustine. New Orleans remains under the Spanish flag. The western and southern boundaries of the United States are now controlled by Spain. Great Britain retains perpetual access to the Mississippi River.

xiii xiv time line for louisiana

1791. The Negro slave revolt on the Caribbean island of Saint Domingue marks the end of the French colonial empire there. Many colonists flee to Cuba and then to New Orleans. 1800. Napoleon Bonaparte acquires the Louisiana territory (west of the Mississippi) from Spain in the secret Treaty of Ildefonso. He plans to reestablish a colonial empire in America for France by re-enslaving Saint Domingue as the heart of his empire and by invading and conquering New Orleans. Although New Orleans is included in this secret retrocession to France, it remains under Spanish rule. 1802. finally getting wind that this retrocession has occurred, the United States tries to negotiate with France to acquire New Orleans, even though it still flies the Spanish flag. Napoleon’s army in the Ca- ribbean is stricken with yellow fever and is unable to seize Saint Domingue or attack New Orleans. 1803 Napoleon sells all of Louisiana west of the Mississippi River, including New Orleans, to the United States to finance a new war with Great Britain. November 30. The Territory of Louisiana, including New Orleans, is transferred from Spain to France. December 20. france transfers Louisiana and New Orleans to the United States. For twenty days in December 1803, New Orleans is under the Spanish flag, the French flag, and finally the American flag. 1810. american and British settlers in West Florida secede from Spanish rule and set up their own Republic of West Florida, which lasts for ninety days before the United States occupies and annexes it. 1812. In May, the state of Louisiana is the first of thirteen states to be carved out of the Louisiana Purchase. In June, the United States declares war against Great Britain for illegal ship seizing and impressments of American seamen. 1814. British ministers at peace negotiations in Ghent, Belgium, complain about the illegal sale of Louisiana to the United States by Napoleon. The British launch an offensive to terrorize the eastern American seaboard and plan to seize and capture New Orleans. 1814–15. from December 22, 1814, until January 8, 1815, Great Britain attempts to seize New Orleans from the United States in the Battle of New Orleans. Time Line Leading to the Battle of New Orleans

1813 November 24, Southern front. Louisiana governor William Claiborne issues a formal proclamation to the citizens that rampant smuggling has endangered the community’s economic life. He names Jean Lafitte as the chief culprit and offers a $500 reward for the capture and arrest of this pirate. November 25, Southern front. Jean Lafitte posts flyers throughout NewO r- leans offering a competing $1,000 to anyone who captures Claiborne and delivers him to the pirates’ hideout on Cat Island.

1814 March, Northern front. Admiral Alexander Cochrane assumes command of the British North American Station based in Halifax. March 27, Southern front. U.S. force under General Andrew Jackson sur- rounds and crushes the Creek Indians at their stronghold at Horse- shoe Bend in Alabama, effectively ending the Creek Indian War and eliminating the Indians as allies to the British Army. April 1, Paris. Napoleon abdicates, ending the Continental War and freeing British troops for the American war. May 10, Southern front. A British party lands at Pensacola to recruit and supply Creek Indians who had escaped Horseshoe Bend for Britain’s upcoming offensive to capture Mobile and New Orleans. Captain George Woodbine is in charge and is to report to Admiral Cochrane.

xv xvi time line leading to the battle of new orleans

May 28, Southern front. After defeating the Creek Indians, Andrew Jack- son is commissioned in the regular army to command the Seventh Military District, which includes Tennessee, Louisiana, and the Mis- sissippi Territory. June 20, Northern front. Cochrane submits to the Admiralty his plan for the invasion of the United States, including a southern campaign to seize New Orleans. July 8. In New Orleans, Pierre Lafitte is arrested and jailed for smuggling. Secretary of the Navy William Jones orders Commodore Daniel Pat- terson to crush the pirates’ operations at Grande Isle and orders the schooner Carolina to New Orleans for that operation. August 8. British and American negotiators begin talks in Ghent, Belgium. August 9, Southern front. General Jackson imposes the harsh terms of the Treaty of Fort Jackson upon the Creeks for their war against the United States as British allies. August 15, Northern front. The British Army launches a three-pronged attack against Fort Erie in Upper Canada and is defeated. August 15, Southern front. The Schooner Carolina arrives in New Orleans for duty against the pirates. August 19, Chesapeake front. Admiral Cochrane launches a combined land and sea attack in Chesapeake Bay. Troops land at Benedict, Mary- land, and march on a small U.S. fleet anchored at Pig Point. August 22, Chesapeake front. Americans scuttle their boats at Pig Point, and Admiral George Cockburn persuades General Robert Ross to continue to march on Washington. August 22, Southern front. General Jackson marches south and seizes Mo- bile and fortifies Fort Bowyer to the south against an anticipated British southern attack. August 24, Chesapeake front. The British rout American forces at Bladens- burg and march on Washington. President Madison is forced to flee. August 24–25, Chesapeake front. The British Army occupies Washington and burns the public buildings, including the President’s House. Dolley Madison flees, but only after saving the portrait of George Washington. The following day, General Ross withdraws the army from Washington back to the ships. time line leading to the battle of new orleans xvii

August 28, Chesapeake front. After torching Washington, the British Navy sails up the Potomac River and captures Alexandria, Virginia; they also seize twenty-one prize ships and a massive amount of stores from the warehouses of Alexandria. August 30, Northern front. Britain launches another massive land and sea campaign to secure control of the Great Lakes and drive the Ameri- can army out of the Niagara frontier. September 1, Northern front. A 10,000-man British army led by Governor General George Prevost opens the northern offensive and crosses the Canadian border to move against Plattsburg, New York. September 1, Northern front. Captain Thomas Macdonough’s American fleet supporting the American army at Plattsburg crushes the British fleet in the Battle of Lake Champlain, and the 3,000-man American army forces Prevost’s superior British Army to retreat from Plattsburg. September 3, Southern front. Captain Nicholas Lockyer, commanding HMS Sophie, visits the pirate Jean Lafitte at the pirate’s headquarters at Grand Isle, west of the Mississippi River. He tries to solicit the Baratarians’ aid in the upcoming battle for control of the Gulf Coast. The pirates initially seize and jail Lockyer. September 4, Southern front. Lafitte frees Lockyer, returns him to his ship, and asks for two weeks to decide on the offer. He sends Lockyer’s confidential papers to Jean Blanque in New Orleans, a pirate sympathizer and also a member of the Louisiana state legislature. Jean Lafitte hopes this act might free his brother Pierre from jail, but that very night, unknown persons break Pierre Lafitte out. September 7, Southern front. Jean Lafitte receives a stolen letter addressed to someone in Pensacola, revealing British plans to attack Mobile and move on New Orleans and blockade the Mississippi River. HMS So- phie, now joined by two other British ships, suddenly leaves Barataria. September 8, Southern front. Claiborne sends Lockyer’s papers to Jackson in Mobile and then meets with his own Board of Officers to consider whether the Lafittes can be trusted. September 10, Southern front. Pierre Lafitte writes Claiborne that the pirates will assist in the defense of the country if he cancels prosecution against them and pardons their previous offenses. “I am the stray sheep, wishing to return to the sheepfold.” xviii time line leading to the battle of new orleans

September 12–15, Chesapeake front. Admiral Cochrane continues the Chesapeake offensive and lands General Ross’s army with Admiral Cockburn at North Point, Maryland, to march on Baltimore. The British Navy proceeds upriver to attack Fort McHenry. General Ross is killed by snipers in the approach, and the American defenses are finally too strong and force a British withdrawal.F ort McHenry re- pulses the British attempt to reduce it, and Francis Scott Key writes “The Star Spangled Banner” after observing its bombardment. September 12–14, Southern front. The British launch an attack against Fort Bowyer on Mobile Point in preparation for seizing Mobile. Major William Lawrence and 160 men defeat the combined land and sea attack and drive the British off. September 16, Southern front. Despite the pirates’ offer to join in the defense, Commodore Patterson’s fleet attacks and destroys Lafitte’s pirate camp in Barataria. September 18, England. A massive British fleet of almost sixty ships sails for Negril Bay, Jamaica, for the southern offensive. September 27, London. News of the burning of Washington reaches Lon- don at the same time as the defeated British army arrives in Halifax from the failed attack on Baltimore. October 4, New Orleans. Pierre Lafitte pleads with attorney Edward Liv- ingston to help him, saying, “There is only you to pull me out of the trouble where I am.” October 13, Ghent. President Madison publishes the outrageous British demands for land amounting to 233 million acres. Outraged Ameri- cans rally behind Madison. October 14, Halifax. A refurbished British fleet sails from Halifax toward Negril Bay, Jamaica. October 17, London. News of the Baltimore defeat and the death of General Ross reaches London. October 18, London. News of the British defeats at Plattsburg and Lake Champlain stuns London. October 21, Ghent. British negotiators receive orders to drop territorial demands and instead demand terms of uti possidetis: each side to keep what it held. time line leading to the battle of new orleans xix

October 24, Ghent. The Americans reject uti possidetis. October 24, London. Sir Edward Pakenham is selected to replace General Ross as commander of all troops operating in the American war, in addition to continuing with Ross’s orders. Lord Bathurst issues four clarifying orders, one of which advises Pakenham not to end hostilities upon hearing that a preliminary peace treaty has been signed in Europe. October 24, New Orleans. Edward Livingston bypasses General Jackson and appeals to President James Madison on behalf of the pirates’ offer to fight if offered clemency. Jackson wants no part of them and labels them “Hellish Banditti.” October 31, Southern front. A British detachment arrives in Pensacola as part of a plan to commit Indian forces in the offensive against New Orleans. November 1, England. Pakenham departs Portsmouth on HMS Statira with secret orders to sail for Negril Bay, Jamaica. November 4–8, Southern front. Jackson’s army attacks Pensacola to drive the British from the Spanish sanctuary and effectively ends the Anglo- Indian alliance. November 22, Southern front. Jackson begins his incredible march from Mobile to New Orleans. November 24–26, Southern front. General John Keane, with 2,000 reinforcements from England, arrives in Negril Bay and joins the fleet from H alifax. The combined fleet, carrying 14,000 veteran British troops, sailors, and support personnel, sets sail on the 26th for Louisiana. November 26, Ghent. The British abandon the treaty format calling for uti possidetis. November 30, New Orleans. Jackson’s boat, carrying him from Madison- ville on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain, enters Bayou St. John and moves on to New Orleans. November 30, Ghent. The American ministers agree to drop the article on impressments provided that claims for losses and damages will not be affected by its omission from the treaty. December 2, New Orleans. Jackson assumes command of the New Orleans Department of the Seventh Military District. xx time line leading to the battle of new orleans

December 12, New Orleans. The report of outpost sighting of the British fleet approaching Lake Borgne arrives. December 13, New Orleans. Major General Gabriel Villere, commanding the local militia, pleads with Jackson to accept the Baratarians into service, but Jackson is unmoved. December 14, Southern front. The British attack and defeat an American gunboat flotilla commanded by Captain Thomas A. C. Jones in the opening Battle of Lake Borgne. December 16, New Orleans. Jackson declares martial law. The British begin landing troops in an assembly area on Isle aux Poix (Pea Island) in Lake Borgne near the Pearl River. Two British officers clandestinely reconnoiter the planned landing area at the end of the Villere Canal. December 17, New Orleans. Jackson agrees to the pirates’ assistance; they can supply him with much-needed manpower and ammunition. Four hundred pirates swear allegiance. December 22, New Orleans. The Lafittes meet with Jackson and receive safe-conduct passes. December 22, Lake Borgne. The first wave of 1,600 British forces lands undetected at 9:00 a.m. on Villere Plantation, nine miles south of New Orleans. By noon, a messenger reaches Jackson with the news. Jackson immediately orders his widely dispersed forces to join for an immediate attack. The army marches to the landing area and strikes the British force in a daring night attack. December 23, Ghent. The Americans reluctantly agree to the inclusion of the word possessions in Article 1 on mutual restorations of land taken from the other side. December 24, Ghent. The British and the Americans sign a proposed treaty that will become effective only if ratified by both sides. December 24, Battlefield. The final wave of British troops arrives at Villere Plantation from Isle aux Poix. December 25, Battlefield. General Pakenham finally arrives. December 27, Battlefield. The British artillery attacks and sinks the schooner Carolina. December 28, Battlefield. The British attack Jackson’s line, hoping to exploit any breakthrough, but are beaten back. time line leading to the battle of new orleans xxi

1815 January 1, Battlefield. The British launch an artillery duel to smash Jack- son’s line but are defeated. January 8, Battlefield. Pakenham launches the disastrous final attack. January 9–February 6, Battlefield.R emnants of the British army withdraw from New Orleans. February 10, Southern front. The British attack and seize Fort Bowyer in an assault to seize Mobile. February 14, Washington. The treaty arrives and is ratified, officially ending the war. This page intentionally left blank The War of 1812, Conflict and Deception This page intentionally left blank introduction The Enigma

M ention 1812, and people will recall Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s stirring overture highlighted with the strains of “La Marseillaise” and the boom of cannons long before they recall anything about the United States’ second war with Great Britain. Over the years, despite ample writing on the subject, scholarship has often been thin and myths have often replaced fact and logical conclusions; critics note that many writers have simply repeated much of what their predecessors had written. And that judgment has often been correct. But that does not explain why this war continues to be such an enigma. What is there that confounds a large body of historians and, for that matter, prevents much of the society of military enthusiasts from delving more deeply into a complete understanding of the event? It was not a war like recent deployments of the U.S. military to places like Iraq and Afghanistan, where there is no physical objective to be taken and no opposing army arrayed in a line of battle. Those unconventional wars often suffer from a lack of identity—but not so the War of 1812. There was much with which to identify. In its scope it was every bit a world war, involving the fledgling United States and her interest in most of the North American continent and the great European powers of France, Great Britain, and Spain. The land battlegrounds were in the enormous theater between the Mississippi River and the Atlantic Ocean, much larger than the World War II European battlefield, and the sea battles were fought in the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico and on the Great Lakes of North America. In 1807, while European powers were engaged in an enormous war, the United States was neutral and intended to remain so until the British

1 The War of 1812. Courtesy U.S. Army Center of Military History. introduction: the enigma 3 enslaving practice of impressing American seamen into her navy, and a French proclivity to seize American ships, inflamed enough citizens and their legislators to move toward war. The war itself produced a great climactic battle; daring strategy; a few great, but mostly lesser commanders—some verging on incompetence; high-seas drama; international intrigue and deception; and even a battle that could aptly be described as an “Alamo Stand,” although the coining of that name was still twenty-two years in the future. John Grodzinski, popular editor of the excellent online War of 1812 Magazine, aptly described the war as “a far ranging and complex conflict, involving campaigns and battles fought over a vast territory. [It] included amphibious operations, overland campaigns and pitched battles that tested the mettle of the soldiers and the leadership skill of officers.”1 so what’s there not to like? Could there be a more compelling reason to want to know more about this conflict? The testing of the mettle of the soldiers and their leaders unfolded within the high drama of international events and intrigue and inspired great slogans and battle cries heard in few other wars. Where can one find such memorable utterances as that of American diplomat Charles Coatesworth Pinckney, who snarled, “Not a sixpence” to the French demand for bribes? That famously short answer was exceeded in brevity only by the American general Anthony McAu- liff, who in 1944 gave a one-word answer to the Germans demanding his surrender—“Nuts!” Pinckney’s “sixpence” comment was contagious, and his colleague Rob- ert Goodloe Harper further denounced and condemned the French and their “XYZ affair” with his more famous “Millions for defense, but not one penny for tribute.”2 and who can forget the mortally wounded Captain James Lawrence on board the USS Chesapeake and his famous cry “Don’t give up the ship.” Unfortunately, that’s exactly what his crew was forced to do just eleven minutes later when overwhelmed by HMS Shannon, but the patriotic ring of his words outlived his defeat. And then at Baltimore, during the British bombardment of Fort McHenry, Francis Scott Key penned his immortal words about “the rocket’s red glare and bombs bursting in air.” Obviously there was no shortage of memorable words or events to identify the War of 1812. Although great military leadership was not initially evident—in fact it was mostly abysmal on the American side—a great American leader did fi- The Chesapeake Bay area. Courtesy U.S. Army Center of Military History. introduction: the enigma 5

The Northern Frontier. Courtesy U.S. Army Center of Military History. nally emerge to rise to the top and become a supreme commander. Andrew Jackson ruled supreme in every sense of the word in the southern theater, and especially during the last showdown of the war. In the military history of the United States, only four other generals have ever risen to that lofty rank: George Washington, Ulysses S. Grant, John J. “Blackjack” Pershing, and Dwight D. Eisenhower; and three of those other four went on, like Jackson, to be called Mister President. On the British side, little or nothing has been written of the Britons’ strategic and diplomatic genius that set an agenda ranging far beyond the battlefield and sought to preserve and expand their empire. Their strategic and tactical battle plan was crafted in utmost secrecy and involved a re- worked Napoleonic plan to defeat the Americans, who dared to challenge British domination. On the battlefield, British campaigns were daring, well conceived, and shrouded in secrecy, and they caught the Americans mostly off-guard and scrambling. But despite all these compelling aspects of the War of 1812, its fame and interest waned after the Civil War, and its importance seemed to drift into obscurity. January 8 was no longer celebrated with the same zeal as it had been. Before the Civil War, it was remembered as a second independence day, on an equal footing with the 4th of July. Perhaps its fall from that lofty status was linked to the fall of the Confederacy and the subsequent, 6 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

The Southern Frontier. Courtesy U.S. Army Center of Military History. onerous twelve years of “Reconstruction” imposed on the South. But as the years went by, the nation also became more fascinated with the great events of the Civil War, from Fort Sumter to Appomattox. And in the later twentieth century, the two world wars consumed the attention of history and scholarship, further distancing the nation from 1812. But as the events of the War of 1812 drifted into the past, its history experienced a strange transformation. A drift toward revisionist arguments and misunderstanding came to cloud that history, which seemed perfectly clear to everyone during the first one hundred years following the Battle of New Orleans. introduction: the enigma 7

That history was replaced with historical proclamations. An apocryphal history steadily crept into the mainstream thinking and then insidiously wedged itself into schoolbooks—first in Tennessee and then in all ofA merica. If this historical drift away from accuracy was disturbing to many, to the state of Tennessee it was positively galling. Tennessee was the state of Andrew Jackson and John Coffee and his Tennessee rifles. Both strongly influenced the events of the War of 1812. That Tennessee army had turned the tide of an Indian war that threatened and terrified its citizens; and then it secured the right flank of the vast Gulf Coast military theater threatened by British invasion. Jackson and Coffee then raced that army hundreds of miles on foot, building roads as it went, to confront the cleverly planned British invasion to seize New Orleans. In 1927, the state of Tennessee had had enough of revisionism. The state legislators empowered the governor to appoint the Tennessee Committee of Research to get to the bottom of what was being taught in Tennessee schools, especially concerning the Battle of New Orleans. The commission was strictly charged, among other things, with examining those texts that “convey the impression that battle [of New Orleans] was a needless one in that it occurred fifteen days after the Treaty of Peace” and conveyed “an erroneous appraisement of the value of the battle.” Finally, the governor charged the commission to ensure that Tennessee “school children should receive every essential truth from historical textbooks.”3 over the years, those erroneous conclusions concerning the battle had become so pervasive and had such allure that even future president and historian Theodore Roosevelt, writing as a young twenty-three-year-old, said, “It was a perfectly useless shedding of blood, since peace had already been declared.”4 He, like many others, in later years would realize that peace had not been declared. This Tennessee commission did not hurry to produce a slapdash report. In fact, its research and study took eight years before it published its final report to the governor. In 1835 it concluded that not one of the authors of the seven history textbooks used to teach the children of Tennessee had deviated one iota in proclaiming the “uselessness” of the Battle of New Orleans. Those writers sounded as if they had copied from the same script. And while the members of the commission had taken the time to examine all of the documents of the period, especially the writings and records leading up to the Battle of New Orleans and the Treaty of Ghent, the textbook authors apparently had not. 8 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

The commission’s research easily debunked their words, and committee member John Kendall, professor of history at Tulane University, concluded: “The opinion so frequently expressed by historians is a sentimental inaccuracy which ought to be corrected.”5 But it was not, and the drift to bad history continued. To understand the scope of this drift, one needs only to examine a modern-day blog devoted to the War of 1812. One article presented a list of books that the contributor entitled “The Top 25 Books on the War of 1812.” He drew his selection from more than five thousand titles published since the war’s end. Now five thousand titles is a hefty body of work on any subject, and this contributor opined that with the approaching bicentennial one could expect many more books. But, with elitism leaking, he added, “Most will be [written] by popular writers or by scholars poaching outside their field of expertise, and thus any influence they have will probably be ephemeral.”6 Poaching and Ephemeral! Dismissive words conjuring up a disturbing mental picture of a closed academic society of anointed researchers and writers pondering over “their” subject in mutual admiration of each other. One can easily imagine a similar mind-set that prevailed in 1543 on the part of arrogant academicians, scoffing at the poaching“ ” astronomer Copernicus, and his “ephemeral” ideas about the position of the earth in relation to the sun. This list of books itself was curious. Except for two works written in the 1990s, there were no modern books. Six had been written in the nineteenth century (one by Theodore Roosevelt) and eleven others were from the mid-twentieth century, but it was almost impossible to find any that focused on the military battles or captured the thunder of the battlefield. These omissions called to mind an assessment by historian Stephen Bu- diansky, who said that among “modern academic historians . . . the actual fighting seems to vanish altogether from their accounts.”7 how could a book list on the War of 1812 have any credibility without including at least some work on Andrew Jackson, unless the purpose is to ignore him? But ignoring seems to be the case, since no work of the great Robert Remini, whom the New York Times called the “foremost Jacksonian scholar of our time,” is to be found. Yet an obscure, unpublished doctoral dissertation, available somewhere on microfilm, is deemed to be more important. All of this clarified little and was self-contradictory. The top-rated book was Henry Adams’s nine-volume History of the United States, penned be- introduction: the enigma 9 tween 1889 and 1891. This is indeed a fine and indispensable work, but the writer spent more time criticizing Adams than praising him, accusing him of “much second-guessing” and of being “mean-spirited and unfair.”8 For the number one book, this seemed out of place. And Walter Lord’s The Dawn’s Early Light could do no better than eighth place, although Lord’s books on Titanic and Pearl Harbor have brought him legions of fans, and The Dawn’s Early Light was “the best- selling and most-widely read book ever written on the War of 1812,” even according to the list maker.9 But then came the disclaimer. Lord was “a popular writer”—hardly a compliment among the elite. And this academic slight was followed by tedious distinctions between books suited for a “general audience” and those for an “academic audience,” noting whether the author was an “academic writer” or a “nonacademic” one. A second list, entitled “The Leading Myths of the War,” included the United States’ victory as a myth! Now this “British won” opinion is of recent extraction. It began 150 years after the war ended, as did an equally convoluted conclusion that the war was a draw. It seems that the British won because the Americans failed to conquer Canada; or the Canadians won, but since there was no Canada, by default that made the British win- ners. While these musings can sometimes stimulate lively discussions and be entertaining, they truly are far-fetched. For these arguments to have the legs of credibility, their origins would have to be examined in the mind-set and opinions of the people who lived at the time. And not even the most strident supporter of this revisionism can point to a single document or opinion, written or uttered, in the near aftermath of the War of 1812, to support such claims. It took years, if not more than a century, for anyone, professional or nonprofessional, to suggest that the British won the war. The myth that America won seems to have been perpetrated on a duped nation by President James Madison “while the entire nation was buzzing over the great victory at New Orleans.” Presumably during this hoopla and mind-numbing celebration, people just weren’t paying attention, and M adison fooled everyone by announcing “to Congress that the war was ‘a campaign signalized by the most brilliant successes.’” The author explained that Madison’s statements were blatantly false and that this “deception was echoed by Republican orators and editors all across the country, and some American historians have repeated these claims.” He concluded, “One cannot look at battles and campaigns to assess the outcome of a war. . . . 10 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

A mericans had every right to hold their heads high because at least they had fought the British to a draw . . . [but] the United States actually lost the war—even if it has never acknowledged the fact.”10 The forerunner to this revisionist nonsense was an earlier work by a popular British author, Robin Reilly, whose The British at the Gates has been widely read and deserves some of its appropriate acclaim. But Reilly began the “it was a draw” analogy by contending that at war’s end, none of the stated U.S. objectives had been achieved.11 yet exactly the opposite is true. Maritime rights had been restored;12 impressments were ended and remained ended even during the resurgence of Napoleon and remained ended forever thereafter. This hardly came about through the good graces or contrition of the British Navy, but because of the line drawn in the sand by James Madison and the determination of the people of the United States. And while many Americans opposed the war, any argument suggesting that Madison dragged an unwilling nation into it must also conclude that the founding fathers dragged the “unwilling” colonists into the Revolution- ary War since one-third of the population supported the king, a second third was indifferent, and only the final third wanted independence. And after the War of 1812, the Indian terror and threat to frontier lands was greatly diminished and altogether defeated in the South, and it remained so, without foreign powers wooing the Indians as allies. All those objectives had been achieved even though not specifically dealt with in the proposed treaty of Ghent. The goal of annexing Canada had not been gained and thus became the cornerstone of the argument of the “draw.” But annexing Canada was never the cause of the war. It became a goal only after war had been declared—albeit with great enthusiasm by many Americans who believed that Canada would become part of the United States if we only walked in and claimed it. But enthusiasm for that idea does not make the lusting for Canada a cause of the war. Furthermore, had the British, at any time, relaxed their intransigent stance on impressments and maritime rights, there would have been no war. That could not be said if conquering Canada had been the objective in declaring war.13 consider a modern-day example to clarify this cart-before-the-horse logic. During the Korean War, after General Douglas MacArthur defeated the North Korean People’s Army in its attempt to overrun South Korea, he turned his attack to the north in an attempt to wrest control of North Ko- rea from the Communists and reunite all of Korea. But conquering North introduction: the enigma 11

Korea had never been a cause or an objective for the United Nations to commit to war. Without an invasion of South Korea by the North, there would have been no war. When General MacArthur later decided to invade North Korea, and his campaign eventually failed, could one then say that North Korea had won even as its army lay shattered and broken, just like the British army in 1815? But Reilly essentially did just that. He further contended that since maritime issues and issues of impressments were not even mentioned in the final draft of the proposed treaty, those omissions prove that neither issue was the reason the United States had gone to war.14 such flawed reasoning leads to a very slippery slope. Could we then conclude that since the world went to war over the German invasion of Poland in World War II, and since at war’s end Poland was still not free, nor even mentioned in any surrender document, then the German invasion was not the cause of war, and therefore Germany won? This type of flawed logic has further infected the history of the War of 1812. Historians who blithely discard “impressments and maritime rights” as the true reason for war willfully ignore the bulging files of the American State Papers and the Annals of Congress, as well as British proceedings and foreign state papers, all overflowing with speeches and writings crying out against the barbaric practice of impressments and Britain’s unwilling- ness to stop it. And are the writings of Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Monroe, and other key cabinet officials, ambassadors, and members of Congress and Parliament also to be swept aside? Those writings fully document the twenty-year, futile diplomatic struggle waged by American statesmen to bring about an end to British impressment of American citizens. But revisionism demands ignoring such evidence to conclude that impressments and maritime rights were not the cause of the War of 1812. Author Reilly cleverly attempted to sidestep this thorny predicament by a simple proclamation: “The causes of the war were obscure.” Case closed! He followed with a second proclamation that British impressments were “grossly exaggerated in extent.”15 He offered not one scintilla of data to support this claim or to even refute the documented six thousand impressed Americans serving in the British Navy. How is that “exaggerated?” As for the notion of a “draw,” his own words betrayed him. He wrote that after the Battle of New Orleans, “in Britain it was an astounding and catastrophic defeat which has been deliberately forgotten.” 16 Those are hardly the words of anyone endeavoring to transform this “astounding 12 the war of 1812, conflict and deception and catastrophic defeat” into victory, or even a tie. Neither did the British journals or political leaders of the day record one word to support that thesis. None ever suggested that the terrible loss at New Orleans was simply an unfortunate event that besmirched the glory of an otherwise successful and winning campaign! It is natural to thirst for healing of wounds, especially wounded pride; and British national pride desperately needed healing after suffering two humiliating losses to the upstart United States in the short span of thirty years! Grasping at any straw, rather than drowning in the ocean of failure and decisive defeat, is not uncommon. As a southerner, I know the lamentations after the Battle of Gettysburg. The litany was similar: “Was not the Battle of Gettysburg a stalemate? The battle was a chance meeting, not a planned attack; the Confederate Army was not defeated, and after the battle it withdrew from the battlefield, mostly intact—surely as intact as the Union forces. And the Union forces, in the end, had not taken one step closer to Richmond, and in fact were even farther away, still on northern soil. It didn’t mark the end of the war. Where was the loss? Was it not just a draw?” The ever wise Mark Twain described the desire to sugar-coat bitter pills. “When we badly want a thing, we go hunting for good and righteous reasons for it.”17 But hunting for “good and righteous reasons” to resurrect the shattered British army from the battlefield at New Orleans and to declare victory is a tall order. It was the most overwhelming defeat in the history of warfare and has left little wiggle room. It would be far easier to revise the outcome of the Battle of Waterloo. Reilly honestly admitted his British bias: “I make no claim to impartiality.” 18 And that is evident as he makes the argument that the drift to war over the subject of maritime rights and impressments was the Americans’ fault. In 1807 the British continued to proclaim that the American demands, calling for an end to impressments from ships flying theU .S. flag, were “unacceptable.” But to Americans, it was impressments and the resulting slavery that was “unacceptable.” Madison had pushed the British hard and demanded apologies and reparations, none of which were forthcoming as the British dug in their heels to maintain their morally illegal practice. It was a practice universally repudiated and denounced by the rest of the world, and it endured simply because no one could stop it in the face of the invincible British Navy. introduction: the enigma 13

reilly defended this enslaving practice by charging that the Americans simply did not understand realities. They displayed “an abysmal ignorance of diplomatic exchanges and . . . dismissed practicalities in order to make a futile stand.” Accepting these “practicalities” would have meant the United States should not demand an end to impressment but instead understand that because Britain was fightingF rance and Napoleon, the Crown needed to take missing British sailors off American ships for its own use. And if a few—up to six thousand—Americans got caught up in the net, and if a few were imprisoned, tortured, or even hanged, well, wasn’t that better than going to war with Great Britain? To the author, it was all a matter of a proper understanding that British actions were based on “logical theory supported by established precedent and practical measures dictated by existing circumstances!”19 one instantly recognizes this skewed logic as identical with that of the American southern plantation owner who asked for a proper understanding of slavery and its necessity for the survival of King Cotton. These rationalizations only serve to strain the credibility of any author’s work, and they seem especially odd when considering the folly of “practical choice” and the pathetic figure of the duped British prime minister Neville Chamberlain as he sought “peace in our time” as a practicality rather than confronting Adolph Hitler. If “practicality” were ever acceptable when dealing with tyranny, would it not also have been acceptable, during the Cold War, for the East Berlin police to cross into West Berlin and seize anyone on the other side who might have escaped? And if those guards somehow grabbed a few thousand innocent West Berliners, would not a blind eye to their enslavement have been infinitely more practical than risking war with East Germany—or Russia? Similar grotesque rationalizations existed in France during World War II when the German-collaborating Vichy government decided that turning over its French Jews to Germany was a more practical choice than inviting total German occupation and possible harsh reprisals. This rationalizing has leaked into scholarship and serves to cloud the understanding of what happened on the road to the battle at New Orleans. Not recognizing that New Orleans was the climactic battle by simply chant- ing the old refrains that it was “useless,” “unnecessary,” and “fought after the war was over” is sophomoric. Revisionist historians are famous for asking “what if” questions in their attempt to grasp at new conclusions. Conspicu- 14 the war of 1812, conflict and deception ously missing in the “unnecessary battle” mind-set is the question waiting to be asked: What if the British had won? Not researching into what happened, or ignoring facts, becomes a poor excuse to indulge in contrived and concocted history rather than seek to present logical conclusions supported by solid research and clear application. The military actions during that time did not unfold as an apparition. Certain actions and reactions, plans and counterplans, thrusts and coun- terthrusts led the opposing forces inexorably to the battlefield atC halmette. Instead of focusing on this drama and why this clash was inevitable, some have simply chosen to crank out a variation of previous writings and pursue far-fetched schemes and theories. As a result there has been little work examining the two armies and their leaders and how they applied the principles of war. Those principles are sacrosanct. No army or commander has ever prevailed by violating them, and no army or commander has ever lost by embracing them. Both armies, for the most part, failed to faithfully follow these principles. But that suddenly changed at the very end, when both sides became disciples of Karl von Clauswitz and his time-tested maxims. At the very end, the outcome of the battle and of the war hinged on the consequences of a few, seemingly insignificant events—a true example of “For want of a nail, the shoe was lost. . . .”20 The late-maturing American Army and militia, which had been abys- mally inept for most of the conflict, maneuvered to counter the clever strategy of the British Army bent on an American defeat and beyond. After advances, retreats, near catastrophe, deception, subterfuge, and political and military maneuvering, it all came down to one throw of the dice on the Plains of Chalmette. It was winner-take-all, and the prize was enormous. There was no possibility of “stalemate” or “draw” for either side, and both sides knew it. In the course of this confrontation of thrust and parry, Great Britain introduced an old Napoleonic plan for conquest and employed a tactic not to be seen again until the Korean War—and it almost worked. The reading audience has, for the most part, been deprived of the drama of these events, especially as they might be compared to similar battles to enlighten and explain why things unfolded as they did and why the Battle of New Orleans was hardly a sideshow or meaningless. This book endeav- ors to present such a story. It is sorely needed. It will reawaken that thunder of the battlefield, because it presents the drama of the military and political maneuverings for exactly what it was—the technique of waging war to win. introduction: the enigma 15

i am honored to undertake, for the second time, the task to correct “proclamation history.” The first occasion was for the 50th Anniversary of the invasion of Normandy. For those previous fifty years, the American Rangers who had assaulted Pointe-du-Hoc had been portrayed as having participated in a “useless” mission, since the targeted guns “were not there.” But exactly the opposite was true, and instead of engaging in basic research available to all, or interviewing a Ranger who made the assault, an author forever besmirched them by writing proclamation history. The guns were there, and the Rangers found their hiding place and disabled them, becoming the firstA merican unit to accomplish its missions on D-Day. It was my honor then to correct that history. As a member of the Society of the War of 1812, and as a sixth-degree de- scendant of a significant battalion commander who fought at NewO rleans on January 8, 1815, and as a combat veteran and historian, I am honored to present this new work. I have not resorted to dissecting politics from actions on the battlefield—a stultifying practice leading to punishing reviews by readers who call such writing “dull . . . ponderous reading.”21 i have walked the battlefields and have stood at the mouth of the Villere Canal, and boated the British approach on Lake Borgne and Bayou Bien- venue; I have followed Jackson’s approach to New Orleans along the back roads from Mobile, and forded the Pearl River where his army crossed into Louisiana, and canoed the approach to the city along Bayou St. John. And my wife’s sixth-degree ancestor, a prisoner of the British on the battlefield, left a stirring memoir. She joins in my enthusiasm. 1 L ouisiana

I n the Americas, possession of the lands of the New World during the two hundred years following Christopher Columbus became a function of power and ever-changing boundaries among the European colonizing empires. Originally the Americas had simply meant Spain. She claimed the entire hemisphere under the rights of discovery gained by her early explor- ers. But Spain could hardly defend her massive claims, and other European powers came in to carve out their own territories. By 1750, Spain and Por- tugal possessed most of South and Central America. In North America, Spain shared her dominance with Britain and France as great swaths of unexplored land fell under their respective flags. Most of the Caribbean Islands, Florida, and the southwestern part of North America flew the flag of Spain, while France, by virtue of the discoveries of Marquette, Joliet, and LaSalle, claimed the massive lands drained by the Mississippi River. To the east of that great river, France’s claim stretched vertically, in an unbroken line, from the Gulf of Mexico to the Labrador Sea on the northern border of Canada. Great Britain dominated the entire Atlantic seaboard and vast tracts of Canada stretching to the north of the French territory. But by 1763, those general boundaries had shifted and had taken on a more permanent shape following Great Britain’s victory in the Seven Years’ War, also called the French and Indian War. The spoils of that war meant British land acquisition, to be extracted from the holdings of the vanquished. For France, it meant ceding her Louisiana territory east of the Mississippi River, except for the city of New Orleans. If ceding territory was a bitter pill to swallow, this must have been less bitter, since France didn’t actually own the land.1 With this new acquisition, British rule now stretched from the Atlantic to that great river. And Spain was forced to give

16 louisiana 17 up her Florida territory to the British Crown in exchange for recovering Havana and her Cuban colony, which Britain had captured during the war. But the other half of France’s Louisiana territory, that enormous, 828,000-square-mile V-shaped wedge west of the Mississippi, extending from the Gulf of Mexico northward to Canada and westward to the Rocky Mountains, escaped Britain’s grasp. France’s secret ceding of the land to Spain in 1762 was meant to keep it out of British hands. Certainly it kept the massive landmass in the family, since Louis XV of France and Charles III of Spain were cousins. It also assured Spain that, despite losing the lands east of the river, she would not come away from negotiations empty-handed. Tucked in her purse was possession of Louisiana west of the Mississippi. Those boundaries were short-lived, however. In 1783, the American victory in the Revolution changed them again. The Americans had thrown off British rule, and now their western boundary was the Mississippi River all the way to New Orleans, and when Britain was forced to restore Florida to Spain, the Union Jack was suddenly shut out of the New World except in the far reaches of Canada. Except for Spain’s possession of the city of New Orleans and a small hor- izontal sliver of land stretching eastward to the Apalachicola River east of Pensacola, the United States ruled supreme. That sliver of land was known as West Florida, but its tiny size masked its enormous value. Possession of this strip controlled the United States’ free use of its great Mississippi River and its ability to develop and grow foreign commerce. Lacking possession of West Florida made the United States totally dependent upon Spain to allow goods to first be deposited in NewO rleans and then further shipped the final ninety miles to the Gulf of Mexico. Likewise, commerce on the Mobile and Apalachicola Rivers could be held hostage by Spain, since the last miles of those waterways to the Gulf also cut through that sliver of Spanish territory. The good graces of Spain seemed hardly a guarantee for future successful American commerce. In 1801, Secretary of State James Madison perfectly described this troubling situation as “commerce . . . communicating with the sea through a single outlet.”2 As long as Spain was amicable, everything would be fine; but what if Spain became hostile, or aligned herself with an enemy of the United States? Worse yet, what if Spain was defeated or conquered in a future war by Britain or France, or any other nation unfriendly to the United States, and West Florida and New Orleans fell into the wrong 18 the war of 1812, conflict and deception hands? America’s commerce would be wrecked; an enemy would be on her doorstep, and her ability to provide for the safety and welfare of her people would be severely threatened. Spain, considered by many to be a benign ruler governing her North American property passively from Havana, had shown herself not to be the benign ruler that some proclaimed. Spain had often denied this critical passage to the Gulf and had demanded duties on all goods deposited in New Orleans. But it all seemed resolved with the ratification of a 1795 treaty with the United States that guaranteed that right of passage and deposit.3 and the problem was over—that is until October 16, 1802, when one man, a civil servant, declared the terms of the treaty null and void. Juan Ventura Morales, the Spanish intendant (a royal civil servant) of the province of Louisiana at New Orleans, suddenly, and seemingly on his own authority, closed the port. “The privilege,” he said, “which the Americans had . . . shall be interdicted.” With one stroke of his pen, this seemingly unimportant man had closed the Mississippi at the choke point of New Orleans, and American commerce, moving down the river to the Gulf, was locked out. But Morales had left a key to that gate, and it could be temporarily unlocked by paying a 6 percent extortion fee on the value of the cargo for a temporary pass.4 The shock waves of this action reverberated throughout the country. The governor of the Mississippi Territory, William Claiborne, wrote from Nat- chez, “This has inflicted a severe wound on the agricultural and commercial interests of this territory,” and the governor of Kentucky, James Garrard, said, “The citizens are very much alarmed and agitated. The Spanish government, in one blow, has cut up their present and future prosperity . . . by the roots.”5 By all accounts, Spain had been proclaimed to be a benign ruler, but a closer examination of her random actions reveals that she was something more than that. She had been a willful enabler not only to French attacks but also to Algiers pirate attacks on U.S. merchant ships sailing in the Mediterranean Sea. In violation of her 1795 treaty with the United States, she not only turned a blind eye to those attacks, which ambushed and plundered American merchant ships passing through the Straits of Gibraltar, but actually had a hand in equipping and manning the pirate ships. She then allowed the pirates to bring the captured vessels into her own ports.6 President Thomas Jefferson pondered how to deal with such an important, fickle ally. He ordered firm but delicate diplomacy, not only because louisiana 19 of Spain’s critical positions in West Florida and New Orleans, but also because Spain ducked international responsibility for her own actions. Spain routinely claimed that her alliance with France was most reluctant but necessary to confront the greater evil, Great Britain. France was her scapegoat even for the outrageous actions concerning the pirates. It was always France that forced her into bad situations. The U.S. minister to Madrid, Charles Pinckney, in trying to settle damage claims against Spain arising from enormous American shipping losses, was challenged to walk a delicate path. Offending Spain was the last thing that the United States could afford. He crafted his words to convey, on the one hand, America’s obvious displeasure with the loss of more than one hundred ships, but also, on the other hand, to avoid driving Spain to take hostile, retaliatory action that would affect commerce on the Mississippi River. His words gently exposed Spain’s “the-devil-made-me-do-it” alibi:

Strangers can do nothing in a country against a sovereign’s will. . . . The equipping and manning of these privateers, bringing in and selling the prizes, to the amount of more than one hundred sail, was not a thing done in a moment, or concealed from the eye or knowledge of the Government; it was fair to conclude it was permitted and countenanced. . . . [Spain] had not prevented it, when it was in her power to do so, but winked at it to the injury of the United States.7

further complicating diplomacy was the October 16, 1802, announcement by the Spanish intendant at New Orleans that free passage of the river had been closed. Was this an unauthorized action of an active, mis- guided civil servant, or was this government policy? Before an answer could be discovered, the Spanish king made the shocking announcement that he had actually ceded New Orleans and the Floridas to France! President Thomas Jefferson asked the House of Representatives to study this thorny “Spanish” subject and also to approve a $2 million appropria- tion that might possibly be used to solve the problem. But in making the request, Jefferson withheld from the members of the House all the paper- work, communications, and documents that might enlighten them as to the causes of this problem. He seemed especially secretive. Finally, in January 1803, after several months of study and contentious debate, the House issued a hardly surprising report. It concluded that the river was “liable to interruption” and that “it was [folly] to rely on a foreign state for benefits.”D espite these obvious statements, the report also high- 20 the war of 1812, conflict and deception lighted the problem that one man had the power to close the river. “Experi- ence proves that the caprice of a single officer may perpetually subject us to . . . submitting to injury, or of resorting to war.”8 with that, the House approved Jefferson’s request for the $2 million to attempt to purchase West Florida and New Orleans and solve this problem. But the House of Representatives also suggested a second alternative to secure the right of passage. “This right we may insist on,” they wrote, “and perhaps it may be conceded to us, but it is possible that it may be denied. . . . If we look forward to the free use of the Mississippi, the Mobile, the Apalachicola . . . New Orleans and the Floridas must become a part of the United States, either by purchase or by conquest.”9 while the House had worked on this study, it did so without the knowledge of the state of affairs that President Thomas Jefferson had failed to reveal to it. Rufus King, his alert minister to the Court of Saint James in London, had, early on, sniffed out collusion and secret collaborations between France and Spain. On March 29, 1801, five months after the two nations signed the secret retrocession treaty, and fully two and a half years before Jefferson tasked the House to study the situation, King had written a disquieting letter to Secretary of State James Madison, concerning a “retrocession project.” “In confirmation of the rumors of the day,” he wrote, “the project had been discussed . . . to obtain from Spain a cession of Louisiana and the Floridas.” He added, “What was then mediated, has, in all probability, since been executed. . . . Opinion prevails both at Paris and London, that Spain has ceded Louisiana and the Floridas to France.”10 in June, King updated Madison. He had carefully sought out British opinion from among his reliable sources in London, and one such source was Lord Hawkesbury, a British foreign negotiator and president of the Board of Trade.11 He advised King that he had learned from “different quarters” that there would be British “reluctance . . . to acquiesce in [such] a measure that might be followed by the most important consequences.”12 Translated from the easy-speak of diplomatic nuance, that meant that Britain had no intention of sitting idly by while France, and Bonaparte, reacquired a dominant position in America. Hawkesbury further observed that such a cession “might enable France to extend her influence and . . . dominion up the Mississippi; and through the [Great] Lakes to Canada.” And was that not the reason England had fought against France, and won? louisiana 21

The candid Lord Hawkesbury concluded that “England must be unwilling that the territory should pass under the dominion of France.”13 a week later, Madison wrote to Charles Pinckney, minister to the Court of Spain, and asked him to see what he could learn about this international intrigue. “On different occasions,” he wrote, “opinions and reports have prevailed that some part of the Spanish possessions, including New Or- leans and the mouth of the Mississippi had been . . . transferred to France. Information has been received making it probable [but] . . . neither the extent of the cession nor the consideration on which it is made, is yet reduced to certainty and precision.” Madison emphasized the urgency of this investigation: “The whole subject will deserve . . . your early and vigilant inquiries, and may require a very delicate management.”14 Nine days later, he sent a similar letter to Robert Livingston, the U.S. minister to Paris, revealing what he knew about this cession, and he emphasized the need to confront the French. “[After you make] the necessary inquiries at Paris, break the subject to the French Government. Press, in a particular manner, the anxiety of the United States to maintain harmony and confidence with the French Republic.”15 he wanted Livingston to emphasize the frequency of war between France and Great Britain; the French should realize how this would em- broil American citizens in wars from Louisiana to Canada and how such involvement might lead some citizens, now friendly to France, to switch allegiance to Britain. Did that not suggest that France might be exposed to a future “joint operation of a naval and territorial power?” This was a thinly veiled question asking whether France really wanted to risk a British invasion with the entire force of its land and naval powers brought to bear. But despite advising this bold straightforward approach, Madison also stressed to Livingston the need for delicacy in pressing home these considerations: “Should it be found that the cession has irrevocably taken place, or certainly will take place, sound policy will require that nothing be said or done which will unnecessarily irritate our future neighbors [France], or check the liberality which they may . . . exercise in relation to trade and navigation through the mouth of the Mississippi.”16 Each nation knew the importance of New Orleans and the Mississippi River, and that importance drove all planning and trumped all other considerations. Finally, on November 20, 1801, Rufus King told Madison that he was convinced that the cession to Spain was a done deed and was being made in 22 the war of 1812, conflict and deception exchange for some property in Tuscany to create an empire for the Spanish king’s son. But King also noted that, while other negotiations were under way dealing with war between France and Britain, those negotiations seemed to be taking place in a vacuum removed from the intrigue of the Louisiana cession. Secrecy and silence continued to shroud the whole retrocession affair. “It is . . . extraordinary,” Rufus King said, “that during the whole negotiations between France and England not a word was mentioned on either side respecting Louisiana, though [Britain] was not ignorant of the views of France.”17 Years later, that English silence blunted Britain’s own arguments concerning Louisiana. On December 10, Robert Livingston dispatched an encouraging letter. He had broached the subject of retrocession with his French counterpart, and at first theF rench minister brushed it off and seemed reluctant to talk, but the persistent Livingston was not to be brushed off, and the French minister told him that nothing had been concluded—though in fact it had long been concluded. Sensing a slight opening, Livingston plunged in and offered the idea to perhaps involve the United States in the cession project in an effort to provide a means for both Spain and France to satisfy their war debts. That idea was not rejected out of hand, because Livingston wrote to Madison, “I left him with the hint that perhaps both France and Spain might find a mutual interest in ceding the Floridas to the United States.”18 But Livingston had second thoughts about this optimistic letter. Two days later, he dispatched a second letter, confessing that he might have been too hasty in his opinion of the views of the French minister. “Louisi- ana is a favorite object, and they would be unwilling to part with it on the conditions I mentioned. Their Minister’s . . . answer [to me] was, ‘none but spendthrifts satisfy their debts by selling their lands.’” But the minister paused for a moment and, as an afterthought, said, “but it is not ours to give.”19 It was sure proof of the done deed.

The origin of this international chess game had begun long before. When Napoleon Bonaparte rose to power in 1799, he longed to reestablish a French colonial empire in America, lamenting the previous forfeitures of French lands to the British in 1763. He set out to reverse those losses. Al- though he had no hope of reclaiming the land east of the Mississippi that louisiana 23 now formed part of the United States, he set his eyes on New Orleans, the Gulf Coast, and the great expanse of land to the west. Possession of those key pieces would firmly reestablishF rance in America and control the great waterway of commerce through New Orleans. His ambition had been launched and eagerly perpetuated through the urgings of his close ally Charles Maurice de Talleyrand, an early French revolutionary and, in 1797, the powerful foreign minister. It was Talleyrand who set into motion the sequence of events that now became an international intrigue and struggle for power among the four most powerful nations in the world. His strategy drove those nations to conflict and war, and it lived on to play out in a second war in the future. The vital relationship that had, in 1783, existed between America and France and had helped secure American independence was, by 1793, no more. Suspicion and resentment had replaced the grand American-French alliance. A newly declared war between France and Great Britain erupted and placed the United States in a tricky predicament. America had declared herself neutral, and the first test of that neutrality was a refusal to help France in a planned operation to seize Spanish Louisiana. That refusal did not sit well with the French foreign minister, who decided to take matters into his own hands and proceeded to outfit and arm American merchant vessels to attack and seize British ships. This, of course, violated American neutrality, and he was relieved of his duty. One year later, in 1794, Britain and the United States signed the Jay Treaty, supposedly resolving shipping interests, but France saw it as a treaty favorable to Britain at her own expense and an affront to her interests. The gap of animosity between France and the United States widened.20 so France began a campaign of retaliation against the United States by attacking and seizing American ships, and also by not receiving America’s foreign minister for talks to resolve whatever problems needed resolving. Those ship attacks were, by any standards, acts of war; and the diplomatic snubbing was certainly tantamount to breaking off diplomatic relations: a sure precursor to war. America responded to the French attacks on the high seas with her own ship-seizing. But despite her bluster and threatening posture, France could ill afford a second war while fighting Britain, and the United States was even less prepared to wage war against a powerful force like France, so the two sides faced off in a half-hearted effort that was aptly called the Quasi War. President John Adams ordered the buildup of defenses in anticipation of 24 the war of 1812, conflict and deception a land attack and sent not one but three diplomats to try to smooth ruffled feathers and avert war.21 The three American ministers, upon their arrival in Paris, found that access to the newly appointed foreign minister, Talleyrand, was denied. They were reduced to talking to him through his own three selected foreign intermediaries. This French pettiness was probably meant as an insult, and it would have been an insult to any other sovereign nation; nevertheless, Talleyrand demanded that these “messengers” continue to convey his demand that an audience with him was dependent upon American acquiescence to his prerequisites. Otherwise, they would not be allowed into his inner sanctum. Those prerequisites were: France would publicly refute perceived, anti- French remarks recently made by President John Adams. While this refutation was taking place, the Americans must give Talleyrand $250,000 (worth more than $4.5 million today) to line his personal coffers, guarantee a large French loan, and abandon pursuit of French indemnifications for damage done to U.S. neutral vessels by French forces. Only then would the American ministers be allowed to meet with the exalted Talleyrand!22 Predictably, the Americans refused those outrageous demands, but where one might expect such an answer, the pompous Talleyrand was actually taken aback. Perhaps the Americans didn’t understand the way things were done in Europe, so he would try to educate them. Back came the three messengers, once again, carrying Talleyrand’s demands. These three agents later were labeled X, Y, and Z, to protect their identities. Their message to the Americans was that further refusal could lead to war! But the ensuing American refusal was highlighted by Charles Pinckney’s famous, defiant, “No, not a sixpence!” So for the rest of 1797 and 1798 there was a diplomatic impasse, and two of the American ministers went home. But Talleyrand had miscalcu- lated. His pompous posture and outrageous demands backfired on him. On May 30, 1798, the rest of the world caught a glimpse of Talleyrand unmasked. President John Adams, with the approval of the House and the Senate, published all his correspondence. The newspapers headlined everything, including his demand for the huge bribe. The “XYZ Affair” shined the bright light of public scrutiny into Talleyrand’s dark places, and he and France were humiliated. Talleyrand tried to save face by acting shocked and feigning ignorance that his demands could have possibly stymied meaningful negotiations for louisiana 25 so long. “I do not see what delay I could have prevented,”23 he proclaimed, as the last American minister headed for home. But no one was buying that, and what he couldn’t see was that the United States had had enough of Talleyrand. His frantic promises to ensure removal of all obstacles, if only the Americans came back, fell on deaf ears, and his blunder cost him his job. Predictably, American public opinion turned against France, and the French government dropped the outrageous demands, but it was too late.24 From that moment on, a furious Talleyrand envisioned greater antagonism against the United States if only he could get a chance. Two years later, when Napoleon ascended to power, Talleyrand was restored to his position and began his drive to extract vengeance. He perceived that America’s ambition was to eventually rule the great North American continent minus the presence of any European power. “Americans,” he said, “were devoured by pride, ambition, and cupidity.” America favored only the English. “France can expect nothing. She must build up a new colonial system on her own.” But he knew that simply talking about this dream of a new colonial restoration meant nothing. Anyone could talk. It would take daring action shrouded in secrecy and stealth to bring it about. Talleyrand confided to a small, private audience, “To announce too much of what one means to do, is the way not to do it at all.”25 when talk first surfaced concerning retrocession of Louisiana, it was Talleyrand who recognized the real opportunity to clip America’s wings. He saw a way to confineA merican expansionism in the very nature of the geography of the land. “There are no other means of putting an end to the ambition of the Americans than that of shutting them up within the limits which Nature seems to have traced for them.”26 He referred to the natural boundary formed by the Atlantic Ocean and the Mississippi River. In his mind, those barriers could be used to forever hem in the United States and turn the land into a virtual island, an island denied free access to the sea on its western or southern border. On October 1, 1800, the day after France signed a treaty with the United States ending the Quasi War and restoring relations, the deception began. With his brother Lucien signing in his name, Bonaparte pulled off one of the great diplomatic sleights-of-hand that was going to show the fraud of the newly signed treaty with the United States. He brought about a second treaty that made a mockery of the first: a secret treaty withS pain to retro- cede the Louisiana territory to France. The title was as cumbersome as it was secret: “Preliminary and Secret Treaty between the French Republic 26 the war of 1812, conflict and deception and His Catholic Majesty the King of Spain, Concerning the Aggrandize- ment of His Royal Highness the Infant Duke of Parma in Italy and the Retrocession of Louisiana.”27 This delighted Talleyrand, who saw the retrocession as the hammer to finally attack the hated Americans and bring them to heel. Spain was the key. “Let the Court of Madrid cede these districts to France, and from that moment, the power of America is bounded by [the] limit which it may suit . . . France and Spain to assign to her.”28 it was all aimed at reestablishing the grandiosity of the lost French empire in America and the establishment, forever, of the dominance of French commerce. It would all be protected by Napoleon’s power, and controlled and monopolized from the former wealth capital of the world: the French colony at Saint Domingue, located on the western third of the Island of Hispaniola (today it is Haiti). The great commerce and wealth from the heartland of America would be funneled through the French tollgate at New Orleans and out to sea, on French-controlled ships, to dominate international world trade. Before the French Revolution, Saint Domingue had been the most valuable of all French possessions, if not the most valuable colony in the entire world. That tiny island was the epicenter of more than 60 percent of all French commercial interests, and its exports were valued at more than $140 million, carried worldwide in more than seven hundred merchant vessels.29 According to The Saint Domingue Epic, “It became the richest island in the world. Its colony provided the greatest luxury, the greatest wealth. It created the phrase, ‘Rich as a Sainte Domingue Planter.’”30 But that was all in a time before the French Revolution and before 1791, when on that terrible August 20 night in Saint Domingue, five hundred thousand enraged black slaves, seeking to emulate the French Revolution, revolted against their white plantation masters. The revolt unleashed a spectacle of savagery and butchery that made the events of the French guillotine seem pale in comparison. Beneath their ghastly standard of a white infant impaled upon a spear,31 the revolting slaves marched, and hacked, and butchered in an orgy of blood that shook European and American sensibilities. That great, former colonial world that had been the epitome of French international prosperity was wrecked. Historian T. Lothrop Stod- dard wrote of Saint Domingue that it was as if “a land at the very pinnacle of wealth and prosperity was suddenly blotted out . . . as though sunk like Atlantis beneath the waves.”32 louisiana 27

for the white French colonists, it was flee or face extermination, even though the reality of total extermination was not yet fully apparent. The early refugees fled to Jamaica, Cuba, and eventually New Orleans. The horror of this flight for survival is revealed through the eyes of one such family. In 1791, the family of Antoine Pierre d’Aquin sought to escape the wave of slaughter. Just offshore, a British gunboat was stationed to assist the fleeing colonists, but that meant getting to the beach and wading out to safety. Few made it without aid, but Madame d’Aquin and her family were fortunate to have the help of their loyal black house servants, who first hid and then led them to the beach for the final swim out.S he was among the first to struggle through the surf and board the gunboat; and then she could only look back anxiously for the rest of her family. In the distance she saw her eldest son, Pierre, and his brother, Charles Louis, as the last to depart the beach. But the fanatical mob was close behind them and in hot pursuit, and to her horror, she watched as Pierre first fell wounded and then was overwhelmed by the bloodthirsty mob. Charles Louis, seeing his brother dead, bolted for the water and dived into the surf, frantically swimming for the gunboat. But the proximity of the enraged attackers had forced the boat to back off from the beach for its own safety, and now the swim was more arduous. He continually dived under the protective surface of the water, trying to shed his clothes that weighed him down. On the surface impacting musket balls peppered the water and followed his path. He swam submerged for as long as he could until forced up for a breath, and it was underwater again. His discarded clothes floated to the surface, marking his underwater trail, and became an irresistible target to the rapidly firing slaves. That distraction allowed him to safely reach the gunboat and climb aboard with the survivors of his family.33 Twenty-four years later, Charles Louis d’Aquin stepped out onto a very different battlefield, nine miles south of NewO rleans.

In 1797, six years after that awful night and the beginning of the bloody up- heaval, Saint Domingue was still in the mind of Bonaparte; he envisioned it as an important key to his grand plan. In 1794, the French National As- sembly had reacted to the revolt and abolished slavery and, in the ensuing calm, installed the former African slave Toussaint L’Ouverture as military commander. L’Ouverture eventually was made general-in-chief; he had a 28 the war of 1812, conflict and deception flair for politics and reveled in the “art of amusing and deceiving all the world.” He attempted to be all things to all people. For the surviving white population he provided a measure of protection, and he kept his possible adversaries, the hated mulattos, in check; for France he kept the whole of the island of Hispaniola under French control; and to the United States he promised absolute freedom of trade, allowing his warehouse to overflow with American goods.34 he was, however, not amusing to Napoleon Bonaparte, who knew that to create his new colonial empire, he would have to eliminate this absolute ruler and claim that title for himself. The critical ingredient for the successful resurrection of the island’s wealth, so famous in the days of old, was to return to the practices of yesteryear, and that meant reinstituting slavery. With the former slave L’Ouverture in charge, that was impossible except at the point of the sword. In May 1801, L’Ouverture declared the island’s independence from France and named himself ruler for life.35 He flexed his military muscle by seizing, from Spain, the eastern two-thirds of the island of Hispaniola and making himself the absolute ruler of the whole island. This muscle-flexing, flaunted in the face of Bonaparte, might have been a heady experience and good for Toussaint’s ego, but it was hardly a wise military move. There could be no room in Saint Domingue for two rulers, and Bonaparte moved to impose his will. In Brest and in Spanish ports, the wheels of his invasion slipped into gear with a great flurry of ship-fitting and war preparations. His plan was to unleash his powerful force to conquer Saint Domingue (now the whole island of Saint Domingo) and enslave it. From there his assault would springboard to New Orleans. After its easy conquest, France would control the Mississippi River. Bonaparte would have dramatically reestablished French dominion. His strike would be so swift that the gullible Americans, not realizing what he was up to, would have no time to prepare a defense; and once France was firmly established in New Orleans, what American force would be able to drive a 10,000-man French army from its fortified positions? Would New Englanders, southerners, and westerners suddenly repair their fractured loyalties to expend their blood and wealth in an attempt to drive him out? French-speaking New Orleanians and Cajun country folks would most likely embrace him, and it was hard to see fishermen and whalers from the Northeast running to expel a formidable army entrenched a thousand miles away. They could hardly agree to remain as one nation; to expect a response to a sudden call louisiana 29 to arms would be unreasonable. In this military masterstroke, Napoleon would control the North American commerce and have no British adversary; and he would have eliminated L’Ouverture. Keeping this great plan and its maneuverings a secret, though, was a daunting task. Rumors of it spread from lips to lips, and speculation abounded in every corner of Paris. It was the hottest of subjects, and its interest was not confined to theC ontinent alone, but spread to the Carib- bean islands with the arrival of every ship. To keep his adversaries off balance, Bonaparte launched a campaign of denial and deception. He continually patronized L’Ouverture and scoffed at this idle talk and rumors of invasion. He constantly pledged support for him and his island’s freedom even as his great fleet and army moved to destroy him. A master of deception, Bonaparte told L’Ouverture to pay no attention to this unfounded gossip. “If you are told that these forces are destined to ravish your liberty, answer: ‘The Republic has given us liberty’ . . . we have given [liberty] to the people who had it not.” The French Legislature confirmed Napoleon’s deception with its own.O n November 8, 1801, it officially proclaimed to the world, A“ t St. Domingo . . . there are no more slaves. All is free there; all will remain free.”36 on December 14, 1801, the invading French fleet sailed with 19,000 soldiers embarked, and at the end of January 1802, part of it came into L’Ouverture’s view. But only 12,000 men arrived; the rest were assumed to be close behind. Delay was not in the French mind, and rather than wait for the rest of the force, the French began their attack on February 5 against L’Ouverture’s 20,000-man army. The battle was not a quick affair, lasting for three months. The ferocity of the fighting and scorched-earth warfare destroyed the land that was to have become the center of the future French empire. Despite initial lightning successes, the French could not completely conquer Toussaint, who was now fully aware of the French treachery and Napoleon’s plan to reinstitute slavery. He ordered his army to “destroy all, burn all; so that those who come here to force us back into slavery may have before their eyes the image of that hell which they deserve.”37 for the next three months, the fighting was a war of annihilation. Al- though the French had the upper hand, the mountains were L’Ouverture’s friends, and had his generals remained steadfast, he might have defeated the whole expedition or fought a protracted guerilla war that would have doomed the French to a never-ending conflict. But the arrival of the mis sing French forces cause some of his generals to have second thoughts 30 the war of 1812, conflict and deception about victory; they weakened and sought liberal surrender terms, promising to defect into the French army to ensure their own personal safety. L’Ouverture, now abandoned, was forced to seek similar terms rather than fight to the death of his last soldier.H e chose to surrender with French assurance of his safety, yet another deception, and was sent into retirement on his own estate.38 The French under General Charles Leclerc had not escaped the battle unscathed. Of their 17,000 troops that had arrived in St. Domingo, 5,000 were dead, and another 5,000 were in the hospital. Leclerc could muster only 7,000 men for service. But despite those grim casualty numbers, the worst was yet to come. By the first week of June, 3,000 more men were dead, not from enemy action, but from the outbreak of an exploding plague of yellow fever. In July, Leclerc wrote concerning plans for the future Loui- siana campaign. “If [Bonaparte] wishes to have an army in San Domingo in October, he must send it from France, for the ravages of this disease are simply indescribable. . . . I lose one hundred and sixty men a day.”39 with the French army melting away from the disease under the hot Caribbean sun, L’Ouverture saw an opportunity to reform and reorganize the great insurrection. But Leclerc was too quick for him and recognized the danger he posed; on June 10 he arrested him and sent him aboard ship for transport to France. Leclerc wrote, “The government must put him in some fortress in the center of France, so that by no possibility can he escape and return to San Domingo, where he has the power of a religious leader.” In France, L’Ouverture indeed disappeared. One year later, in July 1803, he died in a remote French prison along the Swiss boarder.40

In the United States, the long-running secret of the retrocession of Louisi- ana was finally secret no more. Just as Napoleon’s fleet sailed forS aint Do- mingo, the American minister to France, Robert Livingston, arrived in Paris for a meeting with Talleyrand. In preparation for that meeting, he had par- layed with personal confidants in Paris who assured him that the retrocession between France and Spain was not just a rumor, but an accomplished fact. Armed with that confirmation, he met Talleyrand and confronted him. But Talleyrand continued to perpetuate his unmasked deception, hoping that further denial would somehow make it believable, and told Livingston, “It had been a subject of conversation, but nothing concluded.”41 louisiana 31

robert Livingston was mad and frustrated. He reported back to Madi- son that although most of the diplomats and statesmen to whom he had spoken were against this Louisiana venture, in reality they were nothing more than rubber-stamp officials. Napoleon was in charge and it was “a scheme to which the First Consul was extremely attached; and it of course must be supported.”42 At that same time, from London, Rufus King sent President Jefferson the damning hard evidence: the text of the secret treaty that had been signed eight months earlier. That entire year of 1802 had been one of total frustration for U.S. diplomacy. The year was consumed by efforts to confirm the rumor ofL ouisiana retrocession and deal with French intransigence. In an age when communication was dependent upon messages sent overseas on slow-moving ships, it took months for Madison to send one letter to a foreign minister, for it to then be read, acted upon, and answered, and for the answer to finally be returned to him. These long delays played right into the hands of the French, helping them shroud their plans in secrecy and perpetuate deception and denials. Weeks of dithering, obfuscation, and nonavailability of Talleyrand only added to the delays, and for Napoleon’s invading forces, nothing could have been more valuable. The three American ministers tasked with uncovering the truth of the retrocession—King in London, Livingston in Paris, and Pinckney in Ma- drid—recorded their frustrations in their letters to Madison and to each other. On February 26, 1802, Livingston wrote, “On the subject of Loui- siana, I have nothing new.” Another letter, on March 24, added, “On the business of Louisiana, they have not thought it proper to give me any explanation. . . . They mean to take possession of it as early as possible, and with as little notice to us as they can.”43 To Rufus King in London, he wrote, “If Louisiana goes into the hands of France . . . it is impossible to see the extent of the power she will have in and over America.” And on April 24, he wrote Madison, “The minister will give me no answers on that subject.”44 madison wrote to Pinckney, “We are anxious to hear from you . . . on Louisiana,” and later he lamented to Livingston, “The cession of Louisi- ana . . . becomes daily more and more a source of painful apprehensions.”45 Jefferson finally had had enough, and despite his long-held admiration for the French, he moved to confront Bonaparte directly. He called upon an old friend and diplomatic confidant, E. I. DuPont de Nemours, to be his messenger and entrusted a confidential letter to him.D uPont was just 32 the war of 1812, conflict and deception ending a visit to America and was returning to France, and the president asked him to first read and then deliver the letter to Robert Livingston in Paris. DuPont was then to attempt to present its contents to Bonaparte himself. The president’s letter warned that a continued pursuit of this Louisiana venture would spell doom for the French, and Bonaparte, and his vision of empire: “Taking possession of Louisiana . . . will cost France, and perhaps not very long hence, a war which will annihilate her on the ocean. . . . The day that France takes possession of New Orleans . . . we must marry ourselves to the British fleet and nation. And will a few years’ possession of New Orleans add equally to the strength of France?”46 But Jefferson’s carefully chosen words fell on deaf ears. On June 14, 1802, having received the news that L’Ouverture had been eliminated, Bonaparte was flushed with victory and issued the order to reinstate slavery on the islands of Saint Domingo and Guadeloupe as the next step in his march to New Orleans and empire. On June 4 he wrote, “My intention is to take possession of Louisiana with the shortest delay, and that this expedition be made in the utmost secrecy.”47 simultaneously, Bonaparte was pressing his ministers in Madrid to urge King Charles IV to announce and deliver the Louisiana territory that had been negotiated long ago in the secret treaty of October 18, 1800. But he wanted more. He instructed his ministers to do whatever was necessary to have Spain include the lands of East and West Florida as part of the retrocession of Louisiana. For further enticement, he offered the king even more land in Italy for his son; but at this, King Charles IV balked and would not agree to part with the Floridas despite French cajoling, patronizing, and promises. While this was a political setback, Leclerc’s reported victory at Saint Domingo and the successful retrocession of Louisiana should have been enough of a compensation for Napoleon to launch his New Orleans campaign. But his military victory was, in reality, not the success that had been reported. While slavery had been reinstituted and L’Ouverture had been nullified, Napoleon’s army was in no shape for continued operations. It had suffered a defeat at the hands of an enemy it could not see. The continuing yellow fever epidemic had thinned his forces just as if they had been struck by a rolling barrage of artillery. To make matters worse, the news that slavery was to be introduced hit the island like a thunderbolt. Leclerc had hope to keep it secret until all the population could be disarmed; but the arriving news that the slave trade louisiana 33 had been reestablished and slavery had been reinstituted on the neighboring island of Guadeloupe made further denial impossible. Now only a superior army would be able to bring about disarmament, and Leclerc’s army was hardly fit.H is losses from yellow fever were staggering. In a September report he listed three of his regiments, whose initial strength had totaled 4,295, to have been reduced to 703 men alive, and 440 of those were in the hospital.48 By November, Leclerc himself was dead. An undaunted Napoleon sailed 10,000 new soldiers to the Caribbean island, and by March 1803 General Rochambeau, replacing LeClerc, had subdued most of the revolt. Napoleon reasoned that another 30,000 soldiers would bring him up to strength for his autumn offensive to finally secure the island and make possible his Louisiana plans. But the situation on Saint Domingo had become even more desperate than Napoleon could possibly have envisioned. Historian Henry Adams described the calamity: “At St. Domingo, horror followed fast on horror. Rochambeau . . . waged as he best could a guerilla war, hanging, shooting, drowning, burning all the negroes he could catch; hunting them with fifteen hundred bloodhounds bought in Jamaica for something more than one hundred dollars each; wasting money, squandering men; while Dessalines and Christophe mas- sacred every white being within their reach.”49 as a result of these catastrophic events, Bonaparte never launched his autumn offensive. Adding to his misery, after only two years of peace with Great Britain, France was back at war with this formidable adversary, and an English blockade soon surrounded Saint Domingo and starved the French army of supplies. L’Ouverture’s emboldened and reformed army, now under a new command, was able to attack and crush the French outposts. By November the French army collapsed and surrendered to the blockading British admiral, and the Saint Domingo venture was no more. Talleyrand’s dream of crimping U.S. expansion by “shutting them up within the limits which Nature seems to have traced”50 was shattered.

This terrible plight of the French Army was not clear to the United States throughout all of 1803. In March, the main American concern was to settle and secure the nagging question of New Orleans and the Mississippi River and rights of passage to the Gulf of Mexico on all rivers passing through Spanish territory in the West and East Floridas. 34 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

The United States had left no doubt in the French mind of the importance of a free-flowing Mississippi. In innumerable letters her ministers had presented the absolute necessity of a free-flowing river for the economic freedom of the entire nation. In diplomatic parlance they hinted at the danger France would face if an aroused nation had her economic blood flow cut off. On March 16, 1803, Robert Livingston wrote to the French minister of exterior relations: “Sir, I will venture to say that, were a fleet to shut up the mouths of the Chesapeake, Delaware, and Hudson, it would create less sensation in the United States than the denial of the right of deposit at New Orleans has done.”51 secretary of State James Madison appointed a second minister, James Monroe, to team with Robert Livingston to try to negotiate a solution to this thorny subject. His instructions were clear: “The object in view is to procure . . . a cession to the United States of New Orleans and West and East Florida, or as much thereof as the actual proprietor can be prevailed on to part with.”52 His use of the questioning words, “actual proprietor,” reveals the confusion still prevailing among the Americans as to what were the actual lands involved in the secret retrocession treaty. The instructions given to Livingston and Monroe were actually threefold. If the French government was really willing to sell the city of New Orleans and the Floridas, President Jefferson wanted to tender a high bid rather than chance losing this golden opportunity.53 But if there was no possibility for cession of those lands, then the commissioners were to press for the right of deposit above all. Should Napoleon be intransient to granting that right, then Livingston and Monroe were to take the extraordinary step of offering up to $10 million to purchase only West Florida and New Orleans. They would further offer a ten-year guarantee, to the French government, of commercial privileges along all waterways in those lands. And finally, the United States would guarantee to France the west bank of the Mississippi. That, in effect, conceded French reoccupation of Louisiana and placed a formidable, foreign power on the doorstep of the United States. The French occupation that Jefferson had previously avowed to oppose, and had threatened to crush with an alliance with Great Britain, would now be welcomed.54 while concisely instructing his ministers concerning their negotiating options, Madison also cast a wary eye toward Great Britain and her possible intentions in this whole affair. While she was not a part of the retroces- louisiana 35 sion and hardly wanted a revitalized French position in America, Madison suspected that the ever-opportunistic, imperial British had a keen interest in all aspects of the unfolding drama. On April 18, 1803, he wrote: “The anxiety which Great Britain has shown to extend her domain to the Mis- sissippi, the uncertain extent of her claims from north to south . . . and the attention she has paid to the northwest coast of America, make it possible she will connect with a war . . . a pretension to the acquisition of the country on the west side of the Mississippi.” He further cautioned that such an eventuality would be catastrophic. “The evils involved in such . . . a [Brit- ish] hold on the Mississippi are obvious.”55 eleven years later, Madison’s suspicions proved to have been well founded when Britain, perhaps learning a lesson from the French venture to seize Louisiana, would attempt just such a military operation of her own. And Napoleon was very much aware of Britain’s lusting for empire in North America. On April 10, 1803, Easter Sunday, he determined to put Louisiana out of reach of the English.

I know the full value of Louisiana, and have been desirous of repairing the fault of the French negotiators who lost it in 1763 [in ceding it to Spain]. A few lines of a treaty have restored it to me, and now I must expect to lose it. . . . The English wish to take possession of it, and it is thus they will begin the war. . . . They have already twenty ships of the line in the Gulf of Mexico. . . . The conquest of Louisiana would be easy. I have not a moment to lose in putting it out of their reach. . . . The English have successively taken from France the Canadas, Cape Breton, Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, and the richest portions of Asia. But they shall not have the Mississippi which they covet.56

James Monroe sailed for Paris on March 8, 1803, and landed at Le Havre on April 10; on that same day, Bonaparte was informing his ministers of his plan to cede Louisiana to the United States, lest England seize it as her first hostile act in the new war. The next day he delivered his formal dramatic proclamation.

I renounce Louisiana. It is not only New Orleans that I cede; it is the whole colony, without reserve. I know the price of what I abandon. I have proved the importance I attach to this province, since my first diplomatic act with Spain had the object of recovering it. I renounce it with the greatest regret; to attempt obstinately to retain it would be folly. I direct you to negotiate the affair. Have an interview this very day with Mr. Livingston.57 36 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

at that interview, Livingston was so taken aback by the offer that he originally told Talleyrand, “No.” He insisted that his interest was only in New Orleans and the Floridas, but Talleyrand asked him to reconsider. The subject was put off until Monroe arrived, and then it became the offer they could not refuse. After several more weeks, the foreign ministers finalized the wording of a treaty for the Louisiana Purchase. On May 2, 1803, Robert Livingston signed the historic document and then shook hands with the French minister Talleyrand and James Monroe. “We have lived long,” he said, “but this is the noblest work of our lives.”58 While the three men con- gratulated each other, they hardly expected that their countries would soon be caught up in two protracted wars whose outcomes would forever set their futures. 2 R esentment and Provocation

The end of the Revolutionary War in 1783 had not meant an end to animosity and strained relations between the new, sovereign United States and the old United Kingdom of Great Britain. And few people should have expected the Treaty of 1783 to accomplish that. Wars just don’t end that way, where the populations of the opposing sides experience a sudden and overwhelming desire to embrace their former adversaries. The people need to bury their dead, bind up their wounds, and deal with their scars. But governments are not people and therefore are not hindered by human emotions. Governments have the ability to quickly reconcile with their former adversaries and move forward to presumably greener pastures. Do- ing so is not dependent upon liking or disliking former adversaries; it is a function of national interests. The danger for renewed conflict comes only when the former reasons for war return, or if the victor embarks upon a path of retribution against the loser, as was the case after World War I. After the Treaty of 1783, the Americans sought to enhance their new position as a favorable trading partner with their former enemy and to take full advantage of the economic friendliness brought on by trade with Great Britain. For the emerging republic, trade was the lifeblood to sustain its new government and freedom. And while this atmosphere thrived, to the great advantage of the American people, an air of resentment was never far from the British mind-set. In 1785, John Adams, the first American minister to Great Britain, sensed this resentment soon after his arrival in London. “The popular pulse seems to beat high against America,” he wrote to John Jay, the American minister of foreign affairs. “If this nation had another hundred million to

37 38 the war of 1812, conflict and deception spend, [the people] would force the ministry into a war against us.” One month later he again wrote, “They consider the United States as their rival, and the most dangerous rival they have in the world.”1 John Adams was not alone in that thought. From his ambassador’s office in Paris, Thomas Jefferson wrote of bitter English resentment: “[They are] our natural enemies, and the only nation on earth who wished us ill from the bottom of their souls.”2 The depth of that British resentment was highlighted by Britain’s steadfast refusal to send a foreign minister to Wash- ington. From 1785 to 1788 John Adams’s presence as minister to London was a one-way arrangement with no counterpart in America. That snub served to verify Adams’s and Jefferson’s allegations. Finally in 1788 Adams was recalled from London, and his position not filled again until 792.1 And should America have expected anything else from George III? It was a bitter reality for him to accept that his North American Empire had been lost except in the northern reaches of Canada, and that loss could be traced to his own obstinate policies against the colonists, which brought on the Revolution. Worse yet, his war to drag the traitorous rebels back to colonial status had almost succeeded, and it had failed in large part because of the hated French and their untimely intervention. The unintended consequence of all of this was that he had unwittingly created a powerful and undesirable rival to British domination of trade and commerce on the high seas. The wealth associated with that lost trade now flowed into the Americans’ treasury instead of his own coffers. All of this would have been too much for George III to swallow to become a gracious former adversary. But there was more. Other events in the years following the Treaty of Paris alarmed not only George III but the other European monarchies as well. On July 14, 1789, the French people stormed the Bastille, a prison symbolizing the oppression of the French people by the French monarchy. It marked the beginning of the French Revolution. One month later, on August 26, the National Assembly published the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen. The Marquise de La- fayette authored the document, which bore a striking resemblance to Amer- ica’s Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights. That was not surprising, since Lafayette’s good friend Ambassador Thomas Jefferson had helped in its composition; and it was to be the cornerstone of the new republic. But unlike America’s Declaration, the French document was quickly tossed aside. Vying political parties, lusting for power, ignored its principles resentment and provocation 39 and brought about one of the more murderous regimes in the history of mankind. The perversion of this noble undertaking culminated not in individual freedom but in a “Reign of Terror” that swept over the country, especially in Paris.3 By 1793 the royal monarch, Louis XVI, and his queen, Marie Antoinette, had been executed in front of a screaming, blood-thirsty mob that cheered with each swish of the guillotine. Those mobs constantly prowled the streets, rounding up the enemies of the state, including priests, religious, aristocrats, and royalty. Sham trials led to the scaffold and the guillotine. The Catholic Church, which had long been a mainstay of French life, became the archenemy of a declared national atheism. The police of the Commune seized and closed churches, plundered their lands and wealth, and sent the priests and nuns off to be the first of thousands who were executed.4 “A wave of anarchy swept over France,” wrote historian Stanley Loomis. “In Paris ‘the mob’. . . showed a frightening fondness for heads and hearts on the end of its pikestaffs.”5 on February 1, 1793, only ten days after Louis XVI had been guillotined, France declared war on Great Britain. She was already fighting against Austria, Prussia, and Germany, and in those conflicts the French Army, eager to spread revolution across Europe, had first successfully defended itself and then sought to expand its new republic. In that war of expansion, a young artillery officer—Napoleon Bonaparte—rose in stature to become one of the army’s best commanders. By 1798 France had expanded her empire into Belgium, the Rhineland, Italy, and Egypt, and young Bonaparte rose to the top command of the army.6 all of these events after the end of the American Revolution led to years of confrontational relationship between the former mother country and her now departed and independent child. In some years it was strident, while in other years it seemed almost friendly. The biggest obstacle to that relationship was Britain’s insistence that she had the right to board foreign ships, particularly American vessels, to search for and seize anyone whom she deemed to be, or to have been, a subject of the Crown.7 This high- handed practice came from the British belief that Britain had the right and privilege to do so. During times of war, the British were more insistent, and when Napoleon Bonaparte came to power, they believed the practice was tantamount to the survival of their navy and thus national survival. While impressments were sanctioned within their own laws, there was no 40 the war of 1812, conflict and deception justification to practice this on the ships of other nations on the high seas or, worse yet, in the other nations’ territorial waters. Even that became a matter of selective reasoning. To the British, the English Channel was the territorial waters of Britain—why else would it be called the “English” Channel? It was immaterial that a preponderance of the waters of that channel lapped on the French shore. Ships plying those waters were subject to British law and British interpretation thereof. selective reasoning could also be found in the attitude of the British Army in America. Despite having lost the war to the Americans in 1783, British forces had not withdrawn from the premises. They continued to occupy frontier forts in the Northwest Territory (now the states of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin), in violation of the Treaty of Paris. But economics and commerce allowed both sides to ignore most of their differences. America had become the great trading partner with Great Brit- ain, and since 90 percent of her trade was with the old mother country, prosperity trumped frayed feelings. Trade was a natural relationship. Both sides spoke a common language. They had been trading partners before the Revolution, and it was only natural that they should resume that relationship. And since American seamen were paid more than British seamen, it was natural for British seamen to enlist on, and ship out on, American ships. This was fine during peacetime, but when the first shot was fired in war, Britain demanded the right to the talents of her seamen, and vessels called “impress cutters” went about their duty extracting those men from foreign ships. On land, the press gangs did likewise. The problem came when the British impressed other countries’ citizens, and Americans were exceptionally vulnerable because they were virtually indistinguishable from their British counterparts. While this became an excuse for British captains to impress American seamen, it was a sham argument and hardly defensible when seamen from a variety of non-Eng- lish-speaking nations were regularly found in the impressed lots on British ships. Furthermore, every nation knew that in times of crisis, the British had no intention of honoring formalities. The order would come down to initiate the “hot press.” It was issued without the varnished excuse of mistaken identity. It was to the point: “Press from all protections.” And that meant no person was exempt, not even with the proper papers.8 in January 1792 the issue of impressments unexpectedly vaulted into the American spotlight. Secretary of State Thomas Jefferson forwarded a resentment and provocation 41 surprising letter to George Washington that detailed the cost to offer relief to wrongly impressed U.S. seamen. In 1790, in the absence of anything re- sembling even an American consul capable of helping far-flung seamen on foreign shores, the Crown had declared open season on American seamen, and the press gangs swooped down upon them like lions upon a crippled prey. Far from home with no place to turn, they became easy targets. And their cries for help were truly voices crying in the wilderness. Now most seamen, by their very nature, were not what one might have called high-end citizens. Most were exactly the opposite. So low were they on the ladder of the human race that in England their protection was not even covered by the famous Magna Carta of 1215. That historic proclamation was supposed to have enumerated the basic rights of all men, but seamen were not included in its protections, and British courts had routinely upheld this glaring discrimination; moreover, failure to allow oneself to be pressed was punishable by hanging. The Crown addressed this exception in 1563 with the passage of “an act touching political considerations for the maintenance of the navy.” This high-minded wording served to legalize the practice of impressing men into service against their will for the greater good of the nation. It was augmented, in 1597, by passage of the not high- minded language of the Vagabonds Act, which labeled several categories of individuals as ripe to be pressed into the Royal Navy. Included were vagrants, those who could work but chose not to, those addicted to idleness, and “all fencers, bearwards, common players of interludes, and minstrels.”9 one British shipmaster called those serving before the mast “beasts,” and perhaps that was an apt description, considering their low station in life. He said their lives were spent “in the company of the lowest people that could be found, more or less in the state of intoxication.”10 These “beasts,” on the infrequent occasions when they could depart their ships, usually lived up to the derogatory nickname. Upon finally making port and claiming whatever small, accumulated pay that might have been their due, these men stepped from their confined, shipboard world into the world on land. To them it was paradise—free from the ravages of scurvy, and howling storms, and rancid food, and close confinement, and harsh living conditions, and discipline maintained by the sting of the cat-of-nine-tails. Their wide-eyed escape and anticipated celebration usually led to the closest rundown filthy bar or flea-bitten brothel to pursue their fantasies in their Garden of Eden. But that relief and celebration was often short- 42 the war of 1812, conflict and deception lived; after a brief, rollicking good time, filled with an overflowing of the senses, many found themselves “lying almost naked in the gutter, having been robbed of their pay and even their clothes.”11 But despite their rock-bottom station in life, these dregs of humanity possessed a talent so valuable to the British, especially in time of war, that their enslavement was legal. Their talents were never taught in schools, or in the apprentice shops in London, or on the farms, or in fancy academies. Their education was received on the high seas. They knew how to man and fight a ship.A nd ships without trained crews were useless and easy adversaries against trained, armed opponents; since Britain’s great strength was at sea, these “beasts” made British national survival and empire possible. For those on a ship of the line in times of war, life was very different from their previous, “easy” lives as merchant seamen. Their ships now became deafening and exploding platforms offering neither the means to escape nor the option to run. Solid and “hot” iron shot from enemy guns smashed bulkheads, shattered masts, and ignited raging fires. Grapeshot whistled through the air, slicing sails, rigging, and flesh and bone, and ripping anything in its path like the swinging scythe of the Grim Reaper. In this swarm of flying shards of wood, daggers of metal, and body parts, defenders manned guns, dodged snipers’ fire, and repelled cutlass-swinging and pike-wielding boarding parties. Survival rarely meant “unscathed.” In the midst of battle, decks became strewn with the junk and litter of war; and twisted within those piles were the shattered remains of the lowly citizens. Nor was there time for humane formalities in the heat of battle. So with the rest of the debris, human remains and even still surviving ship- mates were unceremoniously tossed over the rail or through the opened gun ports on the lower decks. But it was also the horrible living conditions on British ships that drove both pressed men and British sailors to desert in droves, defying the threat of the hangman’s noose. Historian George Daughan wrote: “Ships became prisons. Shore leave was never granted to men whom officers suspected might desert. . . . It was not uncommon for pressed men to spend years aboard ship without ever once being allowed on dry land. . . . Men were so desperate to escape they deserted to forbidding, uninhabited islands.”12 Those numerical shortfalls in the ranks had to be replaced. In 1803 Admiral Horatio Nelson noted that in the previous ten years, 42,000 Brit- ish naval seamen had deserted.13 Men to fill their positions could not to be acquired by recruitment alone. To flesh out this massive shortage, other resentment and provocation 43 men had to be pressed into service. The able seamen to be pressed into that service came first from the pool of men serving in the British merchant fleet and then, when that supply ran short, from the merchant fleets of any other country that the powerful British Navy could overwhelm. In 1790 a few cries were heard from impressed, American seamen, even though they were far from home, virtually abandoned by their own country, and at the mercy of British whim. The men sent letters complaining about unjust treatment and other letters offering information about their plight. Thomas Jefferson called these unfortunate men “seafaring citizens.” But without diplomatic relations, neither he nor President Washington had the power to help. At the height of this frustration, and totally unknown to either Wash- ington or Jefferson, a modicum of relief was offered to these abandoned seamen, thanks to the efforts of a private English citizen named John B. Cutting. Cutting had happened to be present when press gangs grabbed some innocent American seamen, and he had intervened on their behalf and brought about their release. Upon learning of this unexpected aid, a grateful Thomas Jefferson paid an immediate 50 pounds to Mr. Cutting, adding the thanks of a grateful nation, and asked for a complete accounting at a convenient time for whatever else might be due for his services.14 That complete account was two years in coming, but when it did, in 1792, it was an eye-opener. Whereas Jefferson had assumed that Cutting’s help had aided only a few Americans, he was shocked to learn the extent of the Englishman’s aid. He conveyed his surprise as he forwarded Cutting’s bill to President Washington. “The oppression extends to a much greater number of our citizens, and their relief is more costly than had been contemplated,” he said.15 cutting’s accounting spoke for itself and revealed the enormous number of impressments made in 1790 at the hands of the British club-wielding press gangs. His total charge for his five-months’ services, from May to October, amounted to $7,642.19. He had paid for the clothes, passage, subsistence, and other necessities, not for just a few of those shanghaied, but to free 947 American seamen from the clutches of the British Navy, and to send them to the French Coast for further processing home. Additionally he had bought 801 pairs of shoes, further indicating just how stripped of everything these men were, and he even paid for six cutlasses for them.16 By 1796 Congress finally reacted to this scourge on the freedom ofA merican seamen. On May 28, it passed An Act for the Protection and Relief 44 the war of 1812, conflict and deception of American Seamen, which was to provide certificates of citizenship to seamen and thereby remove the threat of impressments from the Royal Navy. The certificates were to be issued through the customhouses, aU .S. consulate, or a notary’s office and were much the same as a modern pass- port but also included descriptions of identifying marks, scars, or tattoos on the seaman’s body. The word “Protection” was prominently emblazoned on the document. The act also authorized agents to be appointed in countries where impressed seamen continued their fight for freedom. But depending on the state of the Royal Navy and its need to continually provide the necessary manpower to outfit its ships, these documents were often ignored or challenged as illegitimate—seamen’s documents obtained through notaries were completely disallowed by the British. In 1797 the American agent in Great Britain, David Lenox, reported that of the 401 cases of impressed seamen that he had submitted, only a few had resulted in freedom, and two years later it was worse. He had resubmitted those unresolved cases along with new ones, increasing the total to 651. He wryly noted, “My official business has not diminished; and . . . there is not the smallest prospect of it while the war [with France] continues. Custom- house protections continue to be generally regarded; but many instances to the contrary: for when ships of war are in want of hands, some of the captains pay little regard to them.”17 By denying all certificates from notaries, the British Admiralty gained the upper hand. They artificially limited their accountability to only a portion of the men they impressed. Many destitute seamen had no other proof of citizenship and could only swear that they were who they said they were in front of a notary authorized by the law, and those oaths were verified by similar oaths of other witnesses. American agents advised those without the proper customhouse papers to “write to their friends in America to procure them.”18 had that suggestion not been so naive, it would have been laughable. Many “seafaring citizens,” on the bottom rung of the social ladder, couldn’t write at all, and it is difficult to imagine that many had a circle of friends and relatives to whom they might write. That absurdity and naïveté became apparent when Agent Lenox noted in his communication to Congress, “It is astonishing how few have availed themselves of this advice.”19 For these men, escape from the Royal Navy became impossible. Even those who actually had proper papers often found themselves unable to break the chains of slavery that held them in service before the British mast. resentment and provocation 45

There could be no better example of this slavery than the case of Joseph Bates. Bates was not a derelict “beast.” He was a native of Massachusetts whose mother and father were longtime residents living close to where the pilgrims had landed at Plymouth Rock. His father had been a captain of volunteers during the Revolution and had served under and was recognized by Lafayette himself. Young Joseph had always had a yearning to become a sailor, and after years of his parents discouraging his “ardent desire,” they finally relented, and, in June 1807, Joseph Bates shipped out for a voyage from New York to London to begin his seafaring career as a seaman in the U.S. merchant fleet.20 By 1810 he was indeed a veteran sailor. He had endured every possible peril at sea, including shark encounters, raging storms, and shipwreck on the ice. After a harrowing escape from the ice field and necessary repair in Ireland, his ship fell in with a British convoy protecting its own ships against attack from allies of France. It was shortly necessary for his ship to abandon the convoy to continue its own voyage to Archangel, Russia. But along the way, they were fired upon and boarded byD anish privateers who escorted them to Copenhagen, where their ship and its cargo were condemned by the decree from Napoleon targeting any ships having contact with Great Britain. Even though their voyage was from New York to Archangel, they had “intercourse” with Great Britain by having sailed in that convoy, and that intercourse tainted them. The crew was stripped of all wages and possessions except their clothing and American protection papers and cast out to shift for themselves. Joseph Bates began an arduous odyssey to return home to America. He booked on a leaking vessel to Prussia and then onto an America ship to Ireland, where he crossed to Liverpool to seek passage home and found shelter in a boarding house. But before he could find a way home, a British press gang entered the boarding house and demanded to know where they were from. They produced their protections, but to no avail; no amount of arguments convinced the British officer that they were American citizens. He ordered them taken and confined, and onA pril 27, 1810, Joseph Bates and his crew were pressed into the Royal Navy. “We were conducted through the middle of one of the principal streets of Liverpool like condemned criminals ordered to the gallows,” Bates later wrote. “When we reached the riverside, a boat well manned with men was in readiness, and conveyed us on board the Princess, of the royal navy. After a rigid scrutiny, we were confined in 46 the war of 1812, conflict and deception the prison room on the lower deck, with about sixty others who claimed to be Americans, impressed in like manner as ourselves.”21 Bates could not have known that his fate would consume five years of his life, first as an impressed American seaman and then as a prisoner of war to be eventually confined in the notoriousD artmoor prison, infamous for its massacre of American prisoners on April 6, 1815. A court finally ordered him released, and upon his release he wrote: “We were liberated from the Dartmoor prison on the morning of the 27th of April, 1815, five years to a day from the time I was impressed in Liverpool. I spent about two years and a half in actual service in the British navy, and two and a half as prisoner of war.”22 modern, revisionist historians who have called the impressment of American seamen “grossly exaggerated in extent” have done so with little research, much ignoring, and certainly no knowledge of Joseph Bates.23 While the plight of Bates and that of thousands of other kidnapped Ameri- cans were willfully ignored in many quarters in the years leading up to the War of 1812, it is irresponsible to continue that ignorance. An unknown poet of those times wrote to shame those very citizens who turned their backs on their fellow countrymen. He entitled his work The Impressed Seaman’s Appeal.

See our sons of ocean kneeling To a tyrant’s stripes and chains! Partisan! hast thou no feeling When the hardy tar complains? See the British press-gang seize him, Victim of relentless power! Stout his heart is, but must fail him In this evil, trying hour.24

To the Crown, however, boarding foreign ships to impress wandering British sailors was a right. A British subject was always just that—British! There was no such thing as changing allegiances. The Admiralty always claimed the absolute right to have, enlist, impress, and recover its own seamen, even if they had been naturalized in another country. In times of peace, when there was little need to maintain a reserve of able seamen, many British sailors readily joined other merchant fleets for the higher pay and, especially, to escape the horrific living conditions that existed on resentment and provocation 47

British vessels. But when the nation was in peril, Great Britain jealously guarded, and pursued, her “proclaimed” right to her seamen. The tactics were heavy-handed, and as British publisher William Corbett wrote in his Political Register, “the British officer going on board is at once accuser, witness, judge, and captor!”25 adding insult to injury, the impressed seaman had absolutely no hope of a corresponding naval officer from his own country, or from any other country, ever boarding a British ship to see if there might be an illegally impressed foreign seaman aboard. It was simply not allowed. Might trumped Right, and while Britain jealously guarded its proclaimed right to possession of its own seamen, it trampled on the rights of other nations to protect their own. The British forbade “inquiry on board their ships for American seamen.” They routinely impressed Swedish, Danish, Portuguese, and sometimes even French seamen. Their hypocrisy was hardly hidden, and still the Crown acted as if Britain’s own rights were above the rights of all other nations. Secretary of State Timothy Pickering sarcastically wrote, “They can not pretend an inability to distinguish these foreigners from their own subjects!”26 in 1804 his successor, James Madison, also speaking of British perfidy, echoed, “She takes by force her own subjects voluntarily serving in our vessels. She keeps by force American citizens involuntarily serving in hers. More flagrant inconsistencies can not be imagined.”27 But despite outrage and a massive call from all quarters for something to be done by the government, options were limited. Even the federalist New England states were, for once, in harmony with the southern states, where they had rarely found common ground. Memorial after memorial about the British outrage poured into Congress and was read on the floor of the House. New York, Massachusetts, Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Connecticut sent in scathing denunciations of British actions and violations of U.S. sovereignty and honor. Finally the senate took action and offered a resolution stating that British actions were “unprovoked aggressions upon the property of the citizens of the United States, violations of their neutral rights, and encroachments upon their national independence.”28 The resolution passed unanimously in February 1806. But what did all that mean? Certainly those very words had been uttered to British officials many times over the years, to no avail.W hat would this new resolution mean? Would repeating the oft-aired complaints in the form 48 the war of 1812, conflict and deception of a resolution now suddenly bring Great Britain to an enlightened understanding that she had heretofore not grasped? In truth, this resolution meant nothing. In fact the very drafters of the resolution knew it meant nothing, because the next step would have required a meaningful threat if the resolution was ignored. Putting teeth into mere written words was the tough part. The options boiled down to few choices. There could be a demand for more talks, but talking had already proven fruitless. There could be the threat of an embargo to affect British merchants and deprive Britain of goods she especially needed during her raging European war; but that was a two-edged sword that could also hurt American commerce, and many thought the British might interpret such an embargo as a provocation to war. Lastly, the United States could threaten its own declaration of war. Since neither war nor the threat of war was really an option, the U.S. government’s only choice was to pursue the failed first option: negotiations. But in a sleight-of-hand move, the House of Representatives passed a nonimportation bill that would strike at the heart of a vast number of imported British goods. It became law in April 1806 but would not be effective until November, and was to be a trump card in the upcoming American negotiator’s game with the Crown. Predictably, the attempt at new negotiations on old subjects failed. The British immediately defanged the threat of nonimportation, labeling it an American attempt to have them negotiate from a weakened position, and packaged away the subject of maritime rights and impressments to be dealt separately, in the future, in side talks. That rebuff should have been enough for the American negotiators to pack up and go home, but they opted to stay on and continue to talk on subjects that did not include impressments. The talks turned to the subject of trade: who could trade with whom and when and where that trade could take place, and terms were finally agreed to and signed, despite the American negotiators’ instructions forbidding their signing any document not dealing with impressments. But the agreement was so convoluted and weighed down with contingencies and vague British verbal assurances, that when it got to President Thomas Jefferson, he nixed the whole deal and refused to present it to the Senate for ratification.29 The Non-Importation Act was forgotten. By 1803, Bonaparte had indeed cast the British nation into grave peril with a renewed war. By 1807, France ruled the European continent, and Britain was the absolute ruler of the seas following her crushing of the combined French and Spanish fleet at Trafalgar in 1805. The two adversaries resentment and provocation 49 then embarked on issuing orders and decrees meant to cripple the other’s trade and supply lines. For the French it was Napoleon’s Berlin Decree and later his Milan Decree to control neutral trade, and for the British it was at sea with her stiflingO rders in Council. The British required any ship bound for Europe to stop and pay an exorbitant fee for a license before proceeding to Europe, and the French countered by decreeing that any ship purchas- ing such a license would be seized and its cargo and crew condemned and confiscated.30 And while the Orders in Council had nothing to do with impressments, they gave new excuses for the British to board American ships, and, once boarded, searching and impressment was sure to follow. In 1807, an incident occurred that shined the brightest of lights into the impressed seaman’s dark world and ignited the flames of American fury much like the 1775 “shot heard round the world.” Just one month after Joseph Bates embarked on his ill-fated seafaring career, the frigate USS Chesapeake prepared to depart for duty in the Mediterranean as the flagship for Commodore James Barron. The ship, in the process of refitting after being laid up for four years, was part of a pitifully small U.S. fleet. Chesapeake was one of only six frigates and thirteen ships overall that remained in the navy after a massive 1801 reduction in forces following the aptly named Quasi War. Chesapeake had originally been built in 1794 to protect American shipping in the Mediterranean from Barbary pirates’ attacks, and the current refitting of this thirty-six-gun ship was a reaction to increased activity by those pirates, to growing hostilities between France and Great Britain, and to the outrageous increase in Britain’s boarding American ships and impressing American sailors.31 in 1807 the paths of France, Britain, and the neutral United States crossed in an incident that first unfolded in the sheltered waters of the Chesapeake Bay, that massive pocket of captured Atlantic waters lying between Maryland and Virginia. The U.S. frigate Chesapeake was in the final stages of refurbishment at Washington prior to deploying to the Mediter- ranean, and in those same waters, two French ships, Sibylle and Patriot, damaged by an 1806 hurricane, were attempting repairs at Annapolis, shielded from attack in neutral territory. But like wounded animals, they were stalked by the British lion that entered U.S. waters to blockade the mouth of Chesapeake Bay and lie in wait. Any attempt by the French vessels to slip out to sea meant their certain capture or destruction.32 one of the ships participating in this British blockade was HMS Melam- pus, a thirty-eight-gun frigate, built for speed and maneuver, and proud of 50 the war of 1812, conflict and deception her long history of successes in capturing enemy ships.33 For the crew, the waiting game was easy duty, sitting mostly at anchor and sometimes even going ashore. Of course shore leave was limited to officers and the most trusted of the crew. But duty on a frigate held the promise of money—prize money—an opportunity unheard of for seamen in any other merchant fleet and only remotely available for most sailors on the larger ships of the line. British sailors earned prize money if they captured an enemy ship, and the amount of that money was determined by the value of the sale of the captured ship and its cargo; there was an added amount of “head money” (usually 5 pounds), paid by the Admiralty for each enemy sailor captured with the ship. With the successful capture of an enemy vessel, it was possible for crewmen to experience a windfall of money that they could not possibly earn as sailors in a year, or even in ten years.34 in that summer of 1807, the British crew on board Melampus dreamed about prize money. It would be theirs if they could capture the two French ships, Sibylle and Patriot, now anchored at Annapolis. 3 Fa tal Confrontations The Leander Affair, and Chesapeake versus Leopard

The long-endured insults to American sensibilities and sovereignty brought about by British naval aggression were further exacerbated by an incident in New York on April 25, 1806. British tactics to initiate boarding a ship to impress and seize usually began with a shot fired across the bow of the targeted ship. All British captains regarded this means of stopping a ship as a British right given to them by orders of their superiors in command and further ratified by the laws of Parliament. That Parliament’s laws were illegal and nonbinding to anyone other than British subjects, and especially when applied to a sovereign nation, made not the slightest difference to this mind-set. The audacity of such actions and disruptions created by these blockading British ships can best be understood through the eyes of a British midshipman serving on HMS Leander. Basil Hall wrote:

E very morning at daybreak, we set about arresting the progress of all the vessels we saw, firing off guns to the right and left to make every ship . . . heave to, or wait until we had leisure to send a boat to board. . . . I have frequently known a dozen, and sometimes a couple of dozen, ships lying a league or two off the port, losing their fair wind, their tide, and worse than all, their market, for many hours, sometimes the whole day, before our search was completed.1

Leander was a British fifty-gun ship that, along with HMS Driver and HMS Cambrian, had stationed itself off Sandy Hook, illegally in American waters, for the purpose of stopping and boarding every ship trying to enter New York Harbor. If the British boarding parties, in their searches, deemed any cargo to be contraband, the ship was seized and sent to the British port

51 52 the war of 1812, conflict and deception at Halifax. If any member of the crew was further deemed to be a British subject, he was taken from the ship. On that April day, one of Leander’s “shots across the bow” to stop a ship did not simply land harmlessly in the water but continued its airborne tra- jectory to smash into an innocent American merchant ship, Richard, that was plying its trade in New York Harbor. But before its final, splintering impact, the iron ball first decapitated the ship’s helmsman, John Pierce.2 The British ships were unfazed by the results of this hideous action, paid little attention to it, and blithely went about with their legalized piracy. And they continued the following day, firing shots across the bow and boarding and capturing the American ship Aurora; they then confiscated it and its cargo.3 But on shore in New York, the citizens’ anger was white hot. They temporarily put aside their partisan politics and marched in union to protest, while parading Pierce’s body, and his separated head, through the streets and burning a British flag. British officers who were unluckily ashore at that time were forced to flee and hide, and a raucous town meeting initiated a series of resolutions against the Jefferson government for its complicity in allowing seizures and impressments. They denounced the pacifist mind-set that tolerated and allowed marauding British ships to practice their illegal seizures in American waters. The citizens wanted a stop to all dealings with these invading ships, whose crews defiantly walked the streets buying the provisions that kept those very ships on station to continue their murder and piracy. At the peak of their outrage, they demanded a public funeral for John Pierce.4 That funeral was indeed public and served to spark further demonstrations and anger. A New York grand jury indicted Leander’s captain, Henry Whitby, for murder, and all evidence and testimonies of the incident were forwarded to President Jefferson for action. The president was in a tough spot. He was compelled to try to dispel his demonstrated pacifism with some action that would assuage his furious New York citizens but not lead to an armed conflict with Great Brit- ain. He certainly realized that any naval war with the “Leviathan of the Deep” offered little chance of victory. It would have been one thing if the eastern and southern coastline of the United States were protected from attack from the marauding British fleet by the great expanse of theA tlantic Ocean, but the British Navy was already in Jefferson’s backyard. It could easily attack America’s major northeastern ports from its convenient anchorage at the Royal Naval Dockyard at Halifax—a scant seven hundred fatal confrontations 53 miles from Boston. And despite howling bravado from outraged Americans, there was absolutely no one who really believed that Britain was not the unchallenged “Leviathan” on the ocean, especially after Horatio Nelson’s climactic victory at Trafalgar in 1805.5

But Jefferson was widely perceived to be not only pacifistic but so extreme as to avoid war at all costs. The French ambassador to the United States, General Louis Marie Turreau, wrote that this Jeffersonian mind-set “allows itself to be outraged every day by the English, and accepts all the humiliations they can impose. . . . This indisposition to war . . . is shared by all the party leaders. . . . [They] will avoid every serious difference which might lead to aggression.”6 President Jefferson further exemplified his willingness to accept this national humiliation rather than war in a confusing statement he made to the French minister Turreau when he admitted that America had lost five hundred ships to the British blockade. “We have principles from which we shall never depart,” the president said. “Our neutrality should be respected. On the other hand, we do not want war, and all of this is very embarrassing.”7 could any proclamation have been more meek and mild? Disregarding “our neutrality” was indeed embarrassing, but obviously not embarrassing enough to move Jefferson to firmly deal with the British attack.H e chose, instead, to issue a meaningless order that called for the arrest of Leander’s captain, Henry Whitby, along with the captains of the other two blockading British ships, Cambrian and Driver, for aiding and assisting in what he called the “murder” of John Pierce: “Whereas . . . Henry Whitby, commanding a British armed vessel called the Leander, did on the 25th day of the month of April last, within the waters and jurisdiction of the United States, and near to the entrance of the harbor of New York, by a cannon shot fired from the said vessel Leander, commit a murder on the body of John Pierce.”8 his lengthy proclamation included ordering the three offending ships to depart U.S. waters and to not return. The words lacked the passion or imagination demanded in the wake of such an outrageous event and left unanswered the obvious question: “What if they did return?” His proposed action in that eventuality was yet another demonstrated “embarrassment” to his leadership and resolve. Should those British ships 54 the war of 1812, conflict and deception defy him and return, his orders were not to confront or attack them, but to “forbid all intercourse” with them, and to “prohibit all supplies and aid.”9 so if those ships returned and even sent officers and crewmembers ashore seeking to buy supplies and equipment, or to seek help in mooring or servicing, then the merchants and citizens were forbidden to deal with them. And the full force of a penalty would not be meted out to the offending British ships, but to those merchants and citizens who dared have intercourse with them: “If any person from, or within, the jurisdictional limits of the U. S. shall afford any aid . . . such person or persons shall on conviction, suffer all the pains & penalties by the laws provided for such offences.” 10 his entire proclamation was nothing more than a “feel good” statement. It focused on punishing the victims rather than the criminal. He had no intention of dealing with the offenders, and his call for the arrest of the three captains was a disingenuous order that he had no ability to enforce. He had absolutely no means to track down those men or, for that matter, any of the British ships sailing with impunity inside and outside of the waters of the United States. And by this “Whitby” proclamation, he said that if the offending ships returned, they should not expect merchants to deal with them. Turreau’s assessment that Jefferson would “accept all humiliations” was painfully accurate. The totally blind eye that Britain turned toward the Leander affair is made manifest in the recalling of Captain Whitby and the captain of HMS Cambrian to trial in England. To no one’s surprise, in the friendly confines of court in the home country, Whitby was acquitted for “lack of evidence,” and the captain of Cambrian, John Nairne, was actually called as a witness for Whitby in this less-than-unbiased trial. Predictably, passions soon waned and the demonstrations in New York over John Pierce’s death drifted into the past. For the rest of America, it was not their fight.H enry Adams wrote: “The accidental death of a seaman was no matter of alarm.”11 and indeed that was the case. Americans were not eager for war, and it could be said that the vast differences in lifestyles between rural Ameri- cans and those devoted to life at sea prevented sympathy. Farmers and settlers who carved out their living space in the heartland were people of the land and had little in common with the mental images of the vagabond “beasts” that could be found in any seafaring town. For whatever reason, non-confrontation was the majority mind-set, and Jefferson’s view that war was not an option found fertile ground. A national resignation to endure fatal confrontations 55

British bullying had trumped any indignation to stop attacks on American sovereignty. New York’s problems were not Virginia’s, and vice versa, and the United States was, in the Leander affair, hardly united. Nor was this evidence of disunion limited to regional and sectional bi- ases. The entire union of the United States was very much in question in all parts of the new nation. Many reflected upon whether all this had even been a good idea, and questioned whether the revolutionary experiment over the past twenty-five years was worthy to be continued. Southerners were even looking for their own separate state, and New Englanders would have been happy with such a divorce. In 1805 the former vice president to Thomas Jefferson, Aaron Burr, also sensed this disaffection and sought an opportunity to rupture the union with a traitorous scheme that would separate the southern and western states along the Mississippi from the northern and eastern states. He would form a new country called the Western Confederacy in the Valley of the Ohio. To accomplish this, he sought British aid for his wild venture, and because of his previous lofty office, he gained curiosity and favor with the British ambassador, who saw a real possibility to drive a wedge into the American union. Accordingly, the ambassador sent off a “Most Secret” dispatch to London: “Mr. Burr . . . has mentioned to me the inhabitants of Louisiana seem determined to render themselves independent of the United States . . . and connecting their independence with that of the inhabitants of the western parts of the United States.”12 it would be hard to deny that the prospects of such a scheme would be tantalizing to Britain, especially to Prime Minister William Pitt, who had unexpectedly begun the open warfare against American shipping in 1805. Any schism that would lead to the collapse or weakening of the power of the ever-expanding United States would be in Britain’s best interest. There- fore, the Pitt government pursued to the fullest an examination of Burr’s plans. It would be British support that Burr deemed paramount for any chance of success. It would be British ships that could control the Missis- sippi River and New Orleans and move at a moment’s notice once the new western confederation announced its independence. And the epicenter of this whole scheme was New Orleans, where Burr intended to set up his new seat of government. Aaron Burr was more than willing to explain and expound upon the benefits of his traitorous plan in order to secure British support.H e confided to 56 the war of 1812, conflict and deception the British ambassador, Anthony Merry, that the centerpiece of his whole plot, despite other plans for gaining far-flung territories in theM ississippi and Ohio Valley, and Mexico, was New Orleans, and New Orleans alone. All else was expendable. The possibility that even East and West Florida could be part of the prize only heightened interest. Merry wrote that Burr’s vision anticipated the entire collapse of the Union: “Once Louisiana and the Western country became independent, the Eastern States will separate themselves immediately from the Southern; and thus the immense power which is now risen up with so much rapidity in the western hemisphere will, by such a division, be rendered at once informidable.”13 an “informidable” United States was always the foremost British objective, ever since the colonies had gained their independence and had become Britain’s foremost, bitter trading and maritime rival. Merry’s encouraging reports intrigued Britain, but that interest came to an end with the death of William Pitt, and because of the scheme’s great complexity, it indicated a great probability of failure. It eventually did fail because of its sensational expectations without the corresponding means to succeed. It failed because it was grandiose, including delusions to kidnap and capture the president of the United States, the vice-president, and the senate leader; and the breaking away of part of Mexico from Spanish rule. It failed because it was abysmal at security and hardly the well-kept secret demanded by such a scheme. And it failed, in the end, because Burr had to grossly exaggerate the level of support and enthusiasm for his plan to keep any level of interest among his co-conspirators. But it did not fail because the British were not interested, or because they rejected it out of hand, or because they would not have been delighted to help bring such a plot to fruition. Ambassador Merry’s enthusiastic dispatches to London more than reflected the British interest in the idea that might have garnered support if only Burr had been believable.14 Even in its failure, Burr’s scheme recognized what Napoleon had previously recognized while planning his own offensive in 1803, and that was the absolute importance of New Orleans. Merry’s encouraging letters to Prime Minister Pitt proved that the British shared Napoleon’s understanding. Had not President Thomas Jefferson defined the importance of this city in 1803? “There is on the globe one single spot, the possessor of which is our natural and habitual enemy. It is New Orleans.”15 fatal confrontations 57

Appeasement is always the fruit of weakness and cowering, and like the blackmailer, the tyrant always demands more with broken agreements and persistent outrages. In the case of the appeasement regarding the Lean- der affair, it was just a matter of time before the Jefferson administration should have expected the next British violation of American neutrality. As long as Great Britain continued to proclaim its absolute right over the rights of sovereign nations at sea, that pattern would continue. On April 30, 1807, HMS Driver, one of the three ships that President Jefferson had forever banned from reentering the waters of the United States, was back. She defiantly cruised up theM ohawk River in New York and anchored in the harbor opposite Fort Johnson to take on water. The next day, the fort commander, Captain Michael Kalteisen, dispatched two of his lieutenants to the governor of New York to obtain his orders on how to deal with the intruder. But the lieutenants were unable to see the governor, and rather than sit idly by because they had no orders, the resourceful Captain Kalteisen took matters into his own hands. On May 3 he drafted an eviction order to be delivered to the ship’s captain, quoting President Jefferson’s previous order. The British captain, William Love, scoffed at Kalteisen’s letter and sent back a letter of his own that could hardly have been more insulting. It began by denigrating Kalteisen, saying, “You appear, like your government, to have something to learn!”16 He challenged the validity of the order, saying this was a recent Jefferson order he knew nothing about, and, for that matter, he doubted that one existed. And concerning Jefferson’s order from the previous year—the one that banned his ship from American waters—Cap- tain Love derided it as “unbecoming,” and a disgrace to Jefferson’s office, more suited to “the sanguinary pen of Robespierre, or the most miserable and petty states of Barbary.” He concluded his letter with a threat of his own. “His Majesty’s ship under my command is at all times perfectly ready to resist and punish any insult to the flag . . . to the last drop of blood.”17 captain Kalteisen immediately sent all inflammatory communications, with one of the lieutenants, directly to President Jefferson, but there is no record of any reply. The two British warships, Melampus and Halifax, long stationed in the waters of Hampton Roads, blockading the entrance into Chesapeake Bay, 58 the war of 1812, conflict and deception still waited for the two damaged French ships to bolt for the high seas. They would become part of the next, most dangerous, confrontation. Melampus had not just been sitting at anchor whiling away her time, but had conducted aggressive actions against all shipping entering the American waters. On April 23, just after the U.S. brig Three Brothers had taken on her pilot to enter the bay, Melampus fired her warning shot dangerously close to the brig’s beam and forced the ship to stop. A small British boat immediately came alongside and ferried the ship’s captain away, with all his papers. A short time later, that small boat returned and hauled off ten more men to the British frigate. Then there was a third visit from that small boat, but this time it brought a “prize master” along with nine men who proceeded to round up everyone, including the pilot, and send them off to the British frigate, leaving only the first officer aboardThree Brothers. The captain was then sent back, and with his first mate and the prize master and his nine men, he sailed the ship for Halifax as a captured prize of war. The British released only two hands, both black men, and the rest fell into the hands of Melampus and an uncertain fate, despite the presence of known protection papers among many of that crew.18 among the crew of Melampus were three Americans who had been victims of a previous British illegal impressment. William Ware, a resident of Maryland, had been taken from his ship off the Bay of Biscay by Melampus and had been forced to serve on board for fifteen months.H e was of Indian extraction and exhibited those very distinctive features. Daniel Martin was a black man from Massachusetts who had been pressed into service at the same time and place. Both of these men, at the time of their illegal taking, possessed the equivalent of American passports, called protections; but those papers were ignored by the captain of Melampus.19 Neither man had the features of a British subject that would have rendered him “indistinguishable”—the oft-used excuse for mistaken impressment. The third man was John Strachan, a white man who had sailed on an English merchantman and was taken off the Spanish coast when his ship, too, was stopped and searched by Melampus. Rather than endure the privations of impressment, he consented to accept the small enlistment money and better living conditions, intending to bide his time until there might be an opportunity to escape.20 He too had protection papers. On one evening in February 1805, while Melampus sat on station off of Norfolk, there was some onboard entertainment that attracted all hands to fatal confrontations 59 deck—a welcome relief from the privations and routine of shipboard life. During that performance, those three seamen, along with two others whom they knew to be Americans, John Little and Ambrose Watts, thought there might be a chance for all to escape. Small boats that ferried necessary men to and from the shoreline were usually tied up next to the ship, but a quick look over the rail revealed that all those boats had been hauled in and were secured on the ship’s deck—all, that is, except for the captain’s own boat.21 seeing their unique opportunity, the five men managed to separate themselves from the crowd, whose eyes were only on the spectacle of the entertainment on deck. One by one they descended the swaying gangway, mindful that any noise might certainly give them away and subject them to the lash or even the hangman’s noose. When all five had positioned themselves in the captain’s gig, they silently cast off and dipped their oars in the water. But obviously they had not been silent enough, because above them, a loud challenge boomed out demanding to know what they were up to. As they bent more quickly to the oars, one of them simply shouted back over his shoulder that they were “going ashore.”22 That answer was rewarded with the chatter of musketry, along with telltale splashes of the balls impacting the water all around the boat, spur- ring the occupants to row harder. They reached land, at Lowell’s Point, and like good sailors, did not just abandon the boat, but meticulously dragged it from the water, placed the waterproof cover and the oars inside the gig, and turned for a final farewell salute to Melampus, which was three loud cheers. They then vanished into the dark.23 one month later, on March 7, 1807, five other men saw their own opportunity to escape from a British ship—this time it was from HMS Halifax, a sister ship to Melampus in the same squadron blockading Chesapeake Bay. While at anchor there, a crew had rowed out and dropped a “kedge” anchor, which was used to enable the ship to be moved and swung short distances by hauling on the ropes secured to it. When the time came to retrieve this anchor, the first officer would send out a midshipman and a crew of five men to raise it and bring it back to the ship. On this night, Midshipman Robert Turner took to the jolly boat for just such a task. Accompanying him were William Hill, George North, Richard Hubert, Henry Saunders, and Jenkin Ratford. The weather was terrible, it was dusk and the light was fading fast, and a heavy rain also obscured the small boat. A quick look back from the crew revealed that only a deck sentry was near the gangway; and with that, 60 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

William Hill grabbed Midshipman Turner and throttled him, and as the frightened midshipman yelled to the ship for help, Hill threatened to “knock [his] brains out” if he continued to yell. But the deck sentry had heard the yells and called other men to the deck, and as the five deserters escaped, a hail of gunfire split the air until they were out of sight. At Sewell’s Point, they released the midshipman, thanked their lucky stars, and ran off into the night.24 a few days later, Halifax’s commander, Captain James Townshend, was ashore to report the desertions to the British consul in Norfolk, when Mid- shipman Turner spotted him and related the story of his abduction and the escape of the five men. Captain Townshend approached the Ameri- can recruiting officer who was busy signing men up for duty on the USS Chesapeake, to inquire if the missing men were there. He was told that the recruiting officer had not enlisted any men forChesapeake by those names. But just then, the captain spied Henry Saunders and approached him and asked why he had deserted the ship. The terrifiedS aunders fumbled for the words and told Townshend that he had wanted to come back but was threatened if he did. But now that the captain was here, Saunders felt more confident and began to walk back with the officer toward the British consul. But Jenkin Ratford suddenly appeared, grabbed Saunders by the arm, and told Townshend that “he would be damned if he should return to the ship; that he was in the Land of Liberty; and that he would do as he liked.” He then threatened Saunders, saying that “if he returned to the ship, if he was not able, he would get more hands to assist in cutting his bloody guts out.”25 These desertions, to the British Navy, were even more galling since the liberated seamen, like Jenkin Ratford, did not hesitate to walk past British officers and demonstrate their new freedom protected by the American flag, and even help recruit forA merican ships while waving the flag. Being seamen, it is what they knew, and many went straight to the newly opened “rendezvous” in Norfolk that served as a navy recruiting station. They took advantage of the opportunity to sign on to an American ship, such as the USS Chesapeake that was being outfitted at the Navy Yard in Washington for its future deployment to the Mediterranean Squadron. One month after their daring night escape from Melampus, the British consul complaints listed the four men William Ware, Daniel Martin, John Strachan, and John Little as having escaped, and that complaint found its way to Robert Smith, the secretary of the navy. The men were accused of fatal confrontations 61 now being in the service of an American ship, and they should “be returned to their duty on board His Majesty’s ship.”26 The complaint was further sent to Captain James Barron, the future captain of Chesapeake, who undertook an investigation into the affair. On April 7, Captain Barron replied that his investigation had revealed that Ware, Martin, and Strachan were impressed Americans and that they were indeed now part of the crew. Two other men, one of them Little, had also escaped and were known to be Americans but had not enlisted with him.27 That answer did not seem to satisfy the British, because on June 1, 1807, Admiral George Cranfield Berkeley, who commanded the White Fleet— called the White—at Halifax, sent a letter to all captains and commanders “of His Majesty’s ships and vessels on the North American station.” He was determined to put an end to this thorny problem. “Whereas many seamen . . . while at anchor in the Chesapeake, deserted and entered on board the United States’ frigate, the Chesapeake, and openly paraded the streets of Norfolk within sight of their officers . . . protected by the magistrates of the town and the recruiting officer . . . [who] refused to give them up, although demanded by His Britannic Majesty’s consul.”28 admiral Berkeley concluded his letter by ordering his ships, should they cross paths with Chesapeake outside the limits of the United States, to show his order to the American captain and “search his ship for the deserters.”29 The admiral listed six British ships from which deserters had presumably escaped, which included Halifax but not Melampus. His order gave no instructions as to what action to take should the American captain refuse the “British” order; and perhaps that was because he could not imagine that anyone, from any nation, was exempt from it. In June, Chesapeake moved to Hampton Roads and Norfolk to complete final outfitting, and the ship looked like a work in progress.I ts decks were strewn with all the tools for shipbuilding; fittings, ropes, nettings, and sails lay strewn about. Cannons had not yet been completely installed, and the new crew of 370 had just arrived, without the chance for tactical drills, manning the guns, or practicing being called to quarters.30 captain Barron had been formally appointed commodore for the Med- iterranean Squadron and had his flag hoisted on board Chesapeake on May 15, but he did not board the ship until June 6, after it had arrived in Hampton Roads; and that brief boarding was not for any formal purpose of inspection or duty. His permanent “arrival” was two weeks later, on June 21, 62 the war of 1812, conflict and deception the day before the ship was to sail for its Mediterranean deployment. Bar- ron also knew that the navy was anxious and had ordered the ship to depart “with all possible dispatch.”31 The wind on that sailing day was brisk and most favorable. Chesapeake hoisted in its jolly boat and at 0715 weighed anchor. Her sails billowed out and snapped in the southwesterly wind, and the ship heaved forward and strained for the open seas. In front of Chesapeake, anchored in the distance, were the ever-present ships of the British blockading squadron. By 0900, Captain Barron had passed them; he sailed on until noon, when he was abreast of the lighthouse at Cape Henry, marking the entrance to Hampton Roads. During the sailing, the crew made busy trying to clear the decks that had been cluttered and in disarray, and while they were pas sing the blockading ships, some of the men had noticed an unusual flurry of signals among them. “We passed two British men of war,” said Captain Barron. “One of them was the Bellona, and the other the Melampus, their colors flying and their appearance friendly.”32 But Captain Barron had also noticed that coincidental with the signaling, one of the two line-of-battle ships off Cape Henry had gotten under way and made out to sea. Shrugging it off, he continued to sail on for four more hours until the Cape Henry light was nine miles astern. Then suddenly, that British ship bore down on him and approached Chesapeake, signaling a need to communicate. Captain Barron hove to and stopped for the convenience of the British ship, and it sent a small boat with a message from Captain Salisbury Humphreys, of the fifty-gun HMS Leopard. On board Leopard, a British sailor witnessed the event: “An officer was sent on board with the [British] admiral’s order, and a letter from Captain Humphreys, saying, he hoped to be able to execute the admiral’s order in the most amicable manner.”33 captain Barron read both the letter and the accompanying order from Admiral Berkeley, in Halifax, that demanded a search of his ship for deserters. He then told the British officer who had delivered the order that his own government’s orders were that he not permit any foreigner to muster his ship’s company or to search his ship, and therefore he could not allow that. Barron wrote his response and sent it back to Captain Humphreys. “He wrote,” said the observing British seaman, “saying that he had no deserters, and that his instructions prevented his allowing the Chesapeake to be searched—[The officer] returned with this answer, after being on board fatal confrontations 63 forty minutes.—As the admiral’s order was positive, there was no alternative but force.”34 when the British boarding party had returned to Leopard, Captain Bar- ron noticed some menacing activity that immediately began on the British ship. He quickly ordered Captain Gordon, Chesapeake’s captain, to have his men move as quietly and unobtrusively as possible, but to move to battle stations to prepare for any hostilities. Even as he gave these orders, he felt that the British were posturing and their actions were more bark than bite. But the sails and cables and other paraphernalia strewn about his own deck hindered any easy movements to battle stations by his crew. Leopard was quick to move to a battle posture, having advantageously taken the windward side to her adversary for easy and decisive maneuvering; her gun ports were triced up, and the tompions (plugs to keep out dust and moisture) removed from her gun barrels. Captain Humphreys now hailed Chesapeake again and told Barron in no uncertain terms that his British commander-in-chief’s orders must be obeyed. Both crews stared across that small bit of ocean that separated them, and in that silence a witnessing British seaman observed: “The only reply made to this (which we thrice repeated) was, ‘I do not understand what you say.’—Now, as we were to windward, and heard distinctly his answers, it is evident he also must have heard what Captain Humphreys said. Orders were then given to fire a shot across her bow from the lower deck; after a minute no satisfactory answer being given, Captain Humphreys ordered to open upon her.”35 “Captain Humphreys ordered the fire to commence, beginning with the foremost gun on the lower deck,” said British sailor George Timcombe, “and gave her about three broadsides.”36 That ripple fire lasted for a pounding twenty minutes, with British crews hauling in each gun, reloading, and running them out as fast as possible to continue the unrelenting fire.S olid shot and grapeshot poured into the helpless hulk of Chesapeake, and her masts and sails ripped and splintered with each blow. Men covered in blood ran about seeking shelter and protection from the cannonade. They were also desperate to fight back but, despite their rage, had little opportunity. So unprepared had Chesapeake been to engage any enemy that most of her cannons were not even fixed in their carriages, and sponges and wads to service the gun barrels were too large to use. The powder horns were not full, nor were the rammers for the guns anywhere to be found near the guns. The marines who might have been able to fight back with small arms 64 the war of 1812, conflict and deception fire had the ammunition to do so, but most of it somehow did not fit their weapons.37 The ship was completely helpless. When the firing finally stopped, three Americans were dead, another eighteen wounded, along with Captain Barron, and Chesapeake was a smashed hulk.38 Barron had struck his colors and, in surrendering, announced to his adversary that he considered his ship to be the enemy’s prize. But Humphreys was not looking for a prize, only for deserters; his small boat returned with the boarding party, and he mustered the ship’s company to search for deserters. Three men were taken from the ranks, but no one could find Jenkin Ratford. “I was ordered below to search,” said George Timcombe, who went below decks “and found [him] in the coal hole.” 39 The search party then departed Chesapeake with William Ware, John Strachan, Daniel Martin, and John Wilson, alias Jenkin Ratford, in tow.40 And on August 26, in Halifax, Ratford was tried, convicted of the charges against him, and sentenced to death. Five days later he was hanged from one of the yardarms of HMS Halifax, the ship from which he had deserted. The three other men were sentenced to five hundred lashes each, but that order was stayed and the three Americans were again impressed seamen in the British Navy. In the immediate aftermath of the attack on Chesapeake, the outraged people of Norfolk cut off any dealings with the British ships seeking supplies. Commodore John Douglas, commanding the British squadron, needing water, sent menacing letters to the Norfolk mayor and council threatening to invade if he was further denied. The council in return sent a panicked letter begging for protection to Commodore Stephen Decatur, the commander of the U.S. naval forces in Norfolk. On June 29, one week after the attack, Decatur signaled the secretary of the navy, Robert Smith, concerning the hostile British threat: “The British commander has also threatened that he will again take possession of the Chesapeake.” He also warned the secretary that the British were taunting that should President Jefferson order naval sanctions against British ships as he had done in the previous Leander affair, they would “commence hostile operations immediately.”41 decatur set about the daunting task of preparing some semblance of a defense, in short order, that might be able to withstand an attack by an overwhelmingly superior force. All he had were four old gunboats, without crews, to serve as the bulwark for his defense, and he scrambled to round up 160 volunteers capable of manning them. “The British,” he said, “if they fatal confrontations 65 attempt anything against us will be at night, with rowboats belonging to their squadron . . . capable of carrying five-hundred men with ease. Our crews will be composed of volunteers who, not withstanding their great zeal, will not possess all the skill we could wish.” He quickly added that although the odds were stacked against his men, the secretary could expect them to defend as bravely as any experienced crews of any other four gunboats, but, he added, “more I hope will not be expected.”42 By July 4, the British menacing posture had not changed and in fact had become even more threatening. Four British ships had come into and anchored at Hampton Roads. Decatur moved his force nearer to the town, where it might be mutually supported by the fort, should the British make any attempt against Chesapeake or the French ship Sibylle. He was poised to meet the British attack head on and make any such venture a costly one that the attackers would not soon forget. He declared to Secretary Smith, “If he makes an attempt to come up with the force they speak of . . . they will all not go down again.”43 Norfolk’s mayor, Richard E. Lee, joined in the fight and dispatched his own letter to the British squadron’s commander, Captain John Douglas. With his ships lying uncomfortably close and in a threatening posture, the mayor wrote: “The inhabitants of Norfolk will . . . protect themselves against any lawless aggression which may be made upon their persons or property; they therefore leave it with you, either to engage in war, or to remain on terms of peace.”44 The Chesapeake-Leopard affair should have convinced everyone that the British had not softened, and would not soften, their stance on stopping and searching other nations’ vessels. Decatur said: “They have been at anchor inside the capes, and have brought to, by firing at, every vessel that has passed in or out of the capes. They have sent many insolent and menacing messages to Norfolk, such as, if the people did not supply them with articles they might want, they would come up and retake the Chesa- peake, and cut out the French ship, Sibylle.”45 on July 6, the schooner Cynthia Ann entered the harbor and endured Douglas’s gauntlet. She was fired at by one of the British vessels but ignored the warning and continued to sail for Norfolk. The British boat, seeing Cynthia Ann ignore its warning shot, continued to fire away with up to sixteen shots. Suddenly a small British tender, positioned in front of the schooner, also opened fire with its own gun and forced the ship to stop. The boarding party stormed aboard cursing and swearing at the American crew, 66 the war of 1812, conflict and deception called the captain a “damned rascal,” and demanded to know why he had not stopped. When the captain said that he did not know why the British were stopping him in his own waters, the boarding party became even more enraged, and in short order, the boat that had fired sixteen shots at Cynthia Ann came alongside to hurl its own crew’s insults and shout that “they wished they had sunk him.”46 Not even the vice president of the United States was safe from British abuse. On June 29 Vice President George Clinton was aboard the American revenue cutter Active, which flew the distinctive pennant only flown on federal revenue vessels, when a boat from the blockading squadron fired upon her. Active was bound for New York and was sailing from Washington through Hampton Roads to reach the open sea. At 4:30 p.m. she had spotted four armed ships at anchor to the southwest about five miles. They were part ofC ommodore Douglas’s force. When the revenue cutter was about abreast of this force, a cannon shot splashed across her bow, obviously fired from one of the blockading ships.S oon after, the captain and crew and Vice President Clinton observed a small pursuit boat begin to chase Active and shortly thereafter fire its own bow swivel gun at the American vessel. John Squire, the lieutenant and commander of Active, said, “The boat continued to row and sail; and appeared to make every possible exertion to come up with the cutter, and actually gained on her until about six o’clock P.M. . . . The boat fired a swivel and soon after, discontinued the pursuit.”47 During the hour and a half pursuit, the small boat was not the only one firing. Two other guns from the large ships also fired at Active; Vice President Clinton insisted that all aboard record their observances of this outrage, and the vessel sailed on to New York. Into just such an atmosphere of panic and hostility was President Thomas Jefferson thrust for the second time in a year. While the Leander affair had faded into the recent past, this new affront to American sovereignty, the Chesapeake attack, now called for presidential action, and he quickly condemned it: “This enormity was not only without provocation or justifiable cause, but was committed with the avowed purpose of taking by force from a ship of war of the United States a part of her crew; and that no circumstance might be wanting to mark its character, it had been previously ascertained that the seamen demanded were native citizens of the United States.”48 fatal confrontations 67

his proclamation banned all British armed vessels from the waters of the United States and forbade any citizen from dealing with or aiding Brit- ish ships. Jefferson demanded reparations for the unprovoked attack and the freeing of the impressed seamen. But he must have anticipated that his demands would fall on deaf ears, because he ordered Secretary James Monroe to bring out of British waters all American vessels if reparations were denied, and to stop all diplomatic relations on other subjects.49 among the people of the United States, there was an understandable cry for vengeance and war, but Jefferson was in a tough position both militarily and tactically. British ships were already in U.S. waters, while American ships were not. They were roaming in British waters and would have had to fight a blockading enemy just to return from their deployments to enter their own ports. War was hardly an option. But neither was it an option to follow yet another path of appeasement. There was a glimmer of high hope in the Jefferson administration that perhaps the British might see this affair as completely indefensible. Lord Canning had confided to James Monroe that should the facts of the incident prove to be as egregious as they appeared to be, then a “most prompt and effectual reparation” should be offered.50 But that initial goodwill was short-lived when Monroe pressed Canning for a greater commitment and referred to the incident as “the most unfounded and most unjustified pretension to search for deserters.”51 Whether it was Monroe’s tone in this condemnation, or the call for punishment for Captain Humphreys, that hardened Canning is unknown, but in the next few days, his initial conciliatory tone dramatically changed. His first reference to “prompt and effectual” reparation morphed into “reparations” but only after all the facts were known; and as for Monroe’s charge concerning British “pretension to search for deserters,” Canning indignantly proclaimed that there was no such mind-set, and should the facts prove this incident to be as charged, it would be an aberration to British policy and his government would condemn the act and punish accordingly.52 But Monroe was not to be put off. He responded to Canning’s huff by suggesting that a solution to the problem was simple: it only required Brit- ain to show some goodwill by returning the impressed men to the ships from which they had been taken, and to punish the offending captain of Leopard, and to stop impressments on merchant vessels. 68 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

in the immediate aftermath of the Chesapeake attack, when it appeared that the four men dragged off had indeed been British deserters, supporters of Britain in America came to the surface and seized the opportunity to condemn Thomas Jefferson for devious politics and to justify the British impressing tactics. A Boston publisher, and British supporter, went so far as to scoff at the idea that this whole affair was simply over “two or three seamen.” To him, it was far more insidious than that. The great grievance was what he perceived to be the systematic “dismantling” of His Majesty’s Navy by the recruiters of the American Navy who encouraged, cajoled, and bribed loyal British seamen to desert the British Navy and enter American ships. It was the Americans’ fault, and Jefferson played on the raw nerves of the people to incite them against the British. “A number of men deserted from the respective ships named in the Admirals Order,” the publisher said, “and in no instance have they been given up . . . but have been encouraged and harbored in their desertions.”53 so he deemed Captain Humphreys’s action most noble and appropriate, and was not Admiral Berkeley’s order to board American ships in search of these deserters in American hands and known by all? “What course was left to pursue,” he asked, “but to suffer his ships to be dismantled in American harbors, or . . . to take the very step he did, by which he . . . put an immediate stop to the injury?”54 These observations of the time serve to highlight in a contorted way the entire British mind-set that national sovereignty was a matter of British interpretation, that a British admiral’s orders were binding on citizens and officers of the United States and other countries, and that the welfare of the British Navy trumped all other rights. But that thinking, as expressed by this British sympathizer, glosses over some very important facts beyond his disregard of sovereign rights. The Chesapeake incident itself went to the very heart of the matter of impressments, the enslavement of innocent citizens of the United States, and the very reason for movement toward war. While trumpeting the justification of British actions to reclaim Britain’s deserted seamen and the perceived authority granted by Admiral Berkeley’s order, the Boston publisher missed the point that the admiral’s “order” specifically sought British deserters from a list of named ships,HMS Halifax being one of them. When British officers requested the return of any of these deserters from Commodore Barron, he actually gave them an honest answer, “I know of no such men as you describe.”55 No one from that list fatal confrontations 69 of ships had signed on board Chesapeake. The fact that the British did not believe him was not the fault of the commodore. So when Leopard first demanded to board Chesapeake, and then attacked the ship after being denied, to impose her will, presumably it was in strict accordance with the vaunted admiral’s orders. But it was not. In fact Captain Humphreys violated the order in every way possible. First, the boarding was in violation of an Anglo-American understanding forbidding boarding each other’s ships of the line. Second, after the illegal boarding, the search party found no one in the mustered ranks of seamen that fit the admiral’s orders. A closer inspection of the ship’s coal bin produced Jenkin Ratford, under the alias of John Wilson. He indeed had deserted from Halifax. But then three other men were hauled off by the whim and proclamation of Captain Humphreys. What was their offense? They had indeed escaped from the British ship Melampus, but Melampus was not on the admiral’s list, and there was certainly no misidentifying these men as British subjects, since two of them were black and the third had Indian features; and they were proven to be American citizens impressed into the British Navy. So in the Chesapeake incident, the all-powerful British naval officer who served as judge and jury while on his impressments missions was shown to be exactly what the Americans had always claimed. He was wrong most of the time, and the seamen who filled the billets of the British Navy from all countries were taken simply for the sake of need and convenience; it was all justified in the name of national survival. Retaining their own seamen in the British service by instituting less harsh living conditions and better treatment presumably never crossed the British mind. Deserting seamen didn’t leave the sea; they just left British ships. 4 Br itish Dem a n ds and Madison’s Resistance

The Chesapeake affair became all things to all people. To the Americans, it was an open wound that needed binding and healing; to the British it was an embarrassment that would not go away. Despite a seemingly straightforward solution suggested by James Monroe, Britain shunned the obvious and embarked on a path of quasi-justification and rationalization concerning the initiation of the Chesapeake attack. The matter of reparations, which should have been the easiest to solve, became a political football to be fumbled by a parade of British foreign ministers caught in a revolving door. The whole affair became an enormous burr under the British government’s saddle and one that seemed destined to be there forever. To those who had been maimed and wounded, and to the families of those killed, there were no reparations, relief, or meaningful apologies. Any real or feigned “disavowals” made by the British government were also meaningless and only served to highlight the empty promise of compensation and harden American opinion on British designs. The three American seamen who had been re-enslaved from the deck of Chesapeake vanished down the blackest of holes to become unseen reminders of the thousands of men like them whom Maryland representative Robert Wright described as “languishing under the ignominious scourge, on the infernal floating castles of Great Britain.”1 in 1915, historian Frank Updyke wrote that the fundamental cause of the War of 1812 was the “irreconcilable” conflict of British naval interests with American commercial interests. “The more concrete causes,” he wrote, “were the right to search for deserters on neutral vessels, and the impressments of American seamen on the high seas.”2

70 british demands and madison’s resistance 71

causes of any war usually build to a boiling point until finally a single, recognizable act pushes the adversaries over the brink. But the causes that Updyke described differed noticeably from most causes of other wars. Not that they were not real, or did not rise to a level of severity deemed necessary to start a war; they were all of that. But there was no spontaneity precipitating the War of 1812; there was no crossing of a border, or sinking of a ship, or bombing of a fort, or assassination of a political leader that led to the point of no return. The point of no return was crossed as if in slow motion. It was in fact correctly labeled as a “drift to war.”3 a drift it was, a slow, hypnotizing float to eventual hostilities, with little urgency on the part of the antagonists to alter its course, in the mutual belief that neither side would go to war. The Americans were hardly prepared, while the well-prepared British could not imagine their former colonies challenging their overwhelming naval superiority. That fateful drift could have been stopped at many points during the five years between theChesa - peake affair and the war’s formal declaration. The attack in June 1807 by HMS Leopard was a dramatic and cataclysmic event that by most standards should have exploded into hostilities, but instead of exploding, it only lit a long-burning fuse. The enormous outrage of the event and its non-resolution kept it always in the forefront of the American mind, and unlike the previous Leander affair, it was not brushed aside. The ensuing proclamation from President Thomas Jefferson, calling for immediate reparations and excluding from U.S. waters all British armed vessels, is testimony to the seriousness of the affair. Jefferson’s previous, appeasing reputation suddenly was nowhere to be found. His actions surprised many, and he, at the very least, expected the British government to strongly disavow the action of its naval commanders and to restore the illegally taken men back to their ship; while the British were quick to disavow the commander’s actions, their sincerity was suspect in their procrastination regarding reparations. This minimum demand of Jefferson’s hardly rose to the level of “extreme” in anyone’s mind except the British mind, and that’s exactly how British diplomats labeled it to justify their foot-dragging. The Chesapeake attack further emboldened Jefferson to call for an end to the onerous British practice of impressments, and he demanded its abo- lition to be “an essential and indispensable part of the satisfaction.”4 This was anathema to the British Navy, which considered its self-proclaimed right to impress as vital to national survival. Thus the seemingly straight- 72 the war of 1812, conflict and deception forward solutions to the thorny problems created by the Chesapeake affair vanished. Instead of immediately solving the reparations problem to diffuse much of the emotion, Great Britain embarked upon a political tactic of parsing her words relative to reparations and linked reparations to other issues for a supposed “total” solution. This was a mistaken path, because it ensured that the problem would never be resolved by insisting on the right to impress. Although Britain publicly stated that she never claimed the right to impress American seamen, in practice that is exactly what her press gangs did. And rationalizing that the illegal attack by Leopard might in some way be mitigated was shameless. If it could be shown that the men taken from Chesapeake were indeed deserters, some members of the British government argued that reparations could then rightfully be nullified. The tortured words of Britain’s foreign secretary, George Canning, offer ample proof of this rationalization: “Not only is the national character of the men taken out of the Chesapeake a matter for consideration, but the reparation to be made . . . would depend on the question whether an act which the British Government [considered] an act of hostility, had been committed . . . previous to the commission of an act of hostility by an officer of his Majesty?”5 in plain words, he was saying that the presence of a British subject, as defined by theC rown, on board a foreign ship, in this case Chesapeake, was an act of “hostility”; so Leopard’s unprovoked attack could somehow be mitigated. The flaw in that logic was immediately self-evident and would have had Canning scrambling to deny his own words if the situation had been reversed. Imagine his consternation had Monroe suggested that any neutral ship, approaching a British ship, could be justified in suddenly blasting it out of the water if it later discovered that there was an illegally impressed seaman on board. All other countries considered impressing innocent seamen as an “act of hostility.” Canning was unable to get over this self-made hurdle and absolutely refused to treat the question of reparations surrounding Chesapeake with any discussion concerning the general topic of impressments. James Monroe reasoned that the two subjects were not to be separated, and no amount of Canning’s alibiing was going to soften his charges against the reckless order and actions of Admiral Berkeley, who “acted as if he had the power to make war and to decide the causes of war.”6 The continued obstacle imposed by the practice of impressments, and the British-proclaimed right british demands and madison’s resistance 73 to impress, had not budged one iota since 1806, when Monroe first labeled it “an insurmountable difficulty.”7 added to this intransigence was the general British feeling that Jef- ferson’s proclamation condemning Britain had been premature and an exercise in amateurish grandstanding; the banning of British warships from U.S. waters was considered an insult and an overreach, nothing short of retaliation to the advantage of the hated French. The result of this impasse was the breakdown of all talks, which surprised no one, and James Monroe returned to the United States. But when Monroe departed, perhaps Great Britain felt she had over- played her hand and sensed that she had lost an opportunity to avoid this drift to war. Canning quickly sent to the United States a special minister to try to bring the grievances of the Chesapeake affair to an amicable conclusion. George Henry Rose arrived in January 1808, with instructions to deal with only that one subject and to in no way be drawn into any discussions concerning the British right to board and search merchant ships. In his negotiations concerning reparations to the victims and the U.S. government in the Chesapeake affair, he was instructed to offer those reparations only after a withdrawal of President Jefferson’s offending proclamation.8 rose assured James Madison that his government was most anxious to settle the differences and proclaimed that it had not been a matter of Brit- ish procrastination that had dragged matters on for so long, but a matter of the offending Jefferson proclamation. And his Majesty had “deemed it improper to mingle” other subjects with the Chesapeake negotiation.9 madison must have been waiting for just such a repeat of the already rejected British terms. The Crown’s focus had never been on the settlement of the damages inflicted by the attack ofHMS Leopard, but always on pe- ripherals that Britain insisted should be linked to the hostile attack: such as the presence of British deserters on American ships, but never simply the subject of impressments. When Rose arrived, and Madison saw that his instructions were to ensure more of the same avoidance, he lit into the minister with all the force that diplomatic language would allow. He told Rose that before the Jefferson’s proclamation could ever become a matter of discussion, “satisfaction should be made for the acknowledged aggression that preceded it.”10 He reminded Rose that the president’s barring of British warships from American waters was not ordered in a com- pulsive fashion, nor as a result of the singular Chesapeake event. While the British government sought to paint an inaccurate picture that the exclusion 74 the war of 1812, conflict and deception had been a knee-jerk, “offending” reaction, Madison rattled off a long list of previous British outrages in American waters. As if to jog a convenient British memory, he detailed an 1804 episode in New York harbor, in which HMS Cambrian, with several other Brit- ish cruisers, had entered the harbor and its commander, Captain William Bradley, had ordered a merchant vessel to be boarded by his press gang. The gang pushed past local officials, who had rightfully tried to bar their way, and “impressed and carried off a number of seamen and passengers into the service of the ships of war.” When approached later by New York authorities, the leader of the press gang repelled them, and Captain Brad- ley wrote to his British superiors that his actions were justified since “he considered his ship, whilst lying in the harbor of New York, as having dominion around her to the distance of her buoys.”11 In his mind, it was like some sort of halo around his ship, where he was absolute lord and master. This grievance had been made known to the British government with the expectation that such outrageous behavior would be redressed and honorable reparation offered. Instead, the British did nothing, ignored the incident, and actually promoted Captain Bradley to command a ship of the line. Madison was not through; he reminded Rose of the more recent Leander incident that had decapitated and killed an innocent helmsman plying his trade in the very same New York harbor when Captain Whitby decided to fire his British cannon without regard to any human life. No one was punished, there was no reparation and no apology, and Captain Whitby was also promoted. And then there was the French ship Impetueau, which, in 1806, had gone aground in North Carolina and, despite being in U.S, waters, was fired upon, boarded, and then burned by three British ships under the command of Captain Douglas of recent Norfolk infamy. Douglas, too, had suffered no ill effects, and was he not still in command? And now there is Chesapeake. “It is sufficient to remark,” saidM adison, “that the conclusive evidence which this event added to that which had preceded, of the uncontrolled excesses of the British naval commanders . . . determined the President’s [proclamation].”12 madison further asked what the British would have expected Jefferson to do? “Was [Jefferson] to do less than interpose some measure of precau- tion, at least against the repetition of enormities so long uncontrolled by the Government whose officers had committed them?”13 He again tried to explain why impressments of American citizens and the Chesapeake affair british demands and madison’s resistance 75 were inseparable and that the whole affair emanated from the proclaimed right of Britain to impress. And despite Britain’s verbal denial that there was no procrastination on the part of the government in addressing reparations, was not the British tactic of linking Jefferson’s proclamation to reparations exactly that? “Need I remind you, sir,” asked Madison, “that the seizure . . . of the seamen belonging to the crew of Chesapeake . . . the very essence of that aggression . . . that the seamen in question are still retained; and consequently that the aggression, if in no other aspect, is continued and in force?”14 But all that logic fell on deaf ears. Rose was indoctrinated into the party line and had been forbidden to deviate from Canning’s instructions, and with no hope of bringing off meaningful talks, he went home. A frustrated Madison wrote to William Pinkney in London that any attempt to resurrect negotiations would now have to be initiated by the British, either in London or in Washington. The Americans were at wit’s end. In the unlikely case that such negotiations might be initiated in London, Madison authorized Pinkney to accept the reparations, but only if they were not encumbered with the old provisos and included the immediate restoration of the impressed seamen, a disavowal of the attack, and punishment of the officers involved.S hould the British agree to these rational demands, then Jefferson’s damning proclamation concerning British excesses would be revoked.15

The entire drama of these failed Anglo-American negotiations unfolded in the background of the Napoleonic War. Both Britain and France sought to attack their American adversary and cripple it with economic measures, and those attacks took the form of decrees restricting trade with neutral nations. By 1806, Napoleon dominated Europe and thereby cut off Brit- ish trade with the Continent. But after the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, the French had no means left to challenge Britain on the high seas, and beginning in May 1806, the Crown blockaded the ports off the French coast. In a tit-for-tat retaliation, Napoleon issued the Berlin Decree of No- vember 21, 1806, which embargoed all British goods shipped by neutrals to France or any of her allies. A year later, in November 1807, the British responded with the Orders in Council, which forbade French trade with Britain, its allies, and neutrals. It also ordered the blockade of French and 76 the war of 1812, conflict and deception allied ports. In one last round of decrees, Napoleon issued the Milan De- cree of 1807, which declared that neutral shipping, using British ports or paying British tariffs, was considered British and would be seized. Historian Zachary F. Smith wrote: “These orders in council were so frequent that it seemed as if the French on one side of the British Channel and the English on the other were hurling decrees for their own amusement while inflicting dire injuries on other nations, and especially the Americans.”16 The upshot of this war of decrees was that no ship sailing the high seas was safe from attack and seizure by either of the warring parties. Like many other neutral countries, the United States’ trade was severely affected and that led to congressional action. In December 1807 the Embargo Act became law; it was meant to embargo both Great Britain’s and France’s trade in the hope of forcing the warring parties to reconsider the harsh decrees, which were violations of long-established principles of neutrality. The good intentions of the Embargo Act were just that—high hopes. In reality, the act failed both economically and diplomatically and created enormous hardships for both the American people and their economy.17 None of the decrees of Britain or France were revoked, and both warring countries continued their attacks on neutral shipping. In April 1808, James Madison had written to William Pinkney, the foreign minister to London, of his suspicions that the hostile trade decrees of both France and Great Britain were primarily to threaten the United States: “The conduct of the two great contending nations toward this country . . . fully displays their mutual effort to draw the United States into a war with their adversary. The efforts on both sides are too little disguised to be worthy of discernment of either.”18 on March 9, 1809, after fifteen months of divisive debate and devastating American economic losses, Congress finally repealed Embargo Act on Jefferson’s last day as president.

On January 18, 1809, William Pinkney attended a dinner at Mr. Canning’s house in London with members of other diplomatic corps, and quite unexpectedly, Canning approached him and pulled him aside. The foreign secretary seemed most encouraged by recent congressional activity in the U.S. House of Representatives, which was on the verge of passing a law that would favor Great Britain. It would seemingly end the discrimination of british demands and madison’s resistance 77 excluding only English ships of war from American ports. The proposed Non-Intercourse Act would apply equally to French vessels and thereby remove the British impediments to negotiations concerning Chesapeake, and to the recent Orders in Council.19 Pinkney was encouraged at the new prospect and at a meeting with Canning, four days later, confirmed that what he had understood at dinner was indeed the British intention. He suggested to Canning that the whole affair should be settled in Washington, to which Canning agreed, and David Erskine, the British minister to the United States, would be empowered to negotiate. Pinkney promised to forward the British terms, noting, “Mr. Canning’s language and manner were in the highest degree conciliatory.”20 in that spirit of cordiality, Canning asked what if an American ship, bound for Britain, suddenly became a renegade ship and instead sailed for a port in France, in violation of American laws. Would the U.S. “complain” if the British Navy “should assist in preventing such commerce.” This seemed an odd question, and the obvious answer would have been that any ship, American or not, that would attempt to run the British blockade should expect to feel the full wrath of British naval power. It was a question completely irrelevant to the immediate matters of reparations and repeal- ing the Orders in Council. So why did Canning ask it? In this verbal setting of airing wants and wishes, Pinkney then took the opportunity to revisit one of America’s fondest issues: the nagging, unresolved question of the non-punishment of Admiral Berkeley and, worse yet, his new reassignment to another command in Lisbon. Canning most likely shook his head, because he brushed the whole affair aside and said he regretted not being able to “consult the feelings of the American Government on that subject.” But, he explained, the Admiralty felt compelled to reemploy Berkeley after an extended time “without bringing him to a court martial.”21 In Canning’s mind, that ended the subject of Admiral Berkeley. But to the Americans, it remained a point of contention and irritation. On January 23, 1809, Canning forwarded three instructions to For- eign Minister Erskine, noting that the new exclusion of French ships from American waters, and the non-intercourse acts, which would now apply to both warring parties, were a positive indication of impartiality on the part of the Americans. And if America would now withdraw all restrictions to British vessels demanded by the terms of the Non-Intercourse Act, and if they would leave those restrictions in place for French vessels, well, the 78 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Crown would agree to withdraw the Orders in Council and stop preying upon American shipping. This had real promise. But Canning added two conditions that he had not communicated to Pinkney when they had met earlier in January. As terms to the agreement he instructed Erskine to demand that America agree to not, under certain circumstances, trade with the enemy’s colonies. This had never been mentioned. And furthermore, if that trade was to continue, then Great Britain should be considered at liberty to capture those American vessels attempting to trade with enemy ports. Canning somehow reasoned that it would be a violation of American law and the Crown could then enforce this American law. His only reference to this concocted proviso had arisen in his conversations with Pinkney when he off-handedly asked if America would “complain” if British ships assisted in stopping illegal trade activity. Canning concluded his note by stating that if these terms were acceptable, then the Crown would send a special minister to America to pursue a formal treaty. But Canning also realized that the long delay in sending a special minister to America to hammer out a treaty might be misread by the Americans and viewed as a further delay to avoid settling the long- simmering Chesapeake grievance. So he authorized Erskine to “assure” the American government that an “immediate” solution could be possible. As soon as Canning received a note of agreement, and if America had already repealed her shipping restrictions, then Britain would immediately repeal the Orders in Council, or set a date for a mutual repeal. He concluded by authorizing Erskine “to make such reciprocal engagement on His Majesty’s behalf.”22 on April 17, Erskine wrote to Secretary of State Robert Smith, but did not present these extra two conditions, since they seemed to him not to bear on the subject and he certainly did not regard them as essential to the agreement. In the language of diplomatic-speak concerning the Chesa- peake affair, he began his letter by again reminding the Americans that, to the king’s credit, His Majesty had promptly disavowed Admiral Berkeley’s actions and had recalled that officer from “a highly important and honorable command.” And now, in addition to that previous action, the king was “willing to restore the men forcibly taken out of the Chesapeake, and . . . make a suitable provision for the unfortunate sufferers on that occasion.”23 erskine interpreted that his actions were to be guided first by the passage of the Non-Intercourse Act, which would lead to a repeal of the Orders in Council, and then he could offer the reparations that would settle the british demands and madison’s resistance 79

Chesapeake issue and “make such reciprocal engagement.” The Americans had not agreed, heretofore, to end any colonial trade, and they had not even discussed the thought of the British Navy having the unfettered right to enforce U.S. laws. But Erskine had brought up those additional two provisos to Robert Smith, who told him that the United States could not agree to the first, and the second suggestion made no sense. Although Canning had told Erskine that he was to show the document of his instructions to the Americans, Erskine had not; he proceeded upon his mission as he saw it. Erskine’s own words reveal that he considered the point of the British Navy enforcing U.S. laws as a nonissue. In a later letter sent to Smith in August 1809, he wrote: “The third [condition] you very distinctly informed me could not be recognized by the President, but you added . . . that you did not see why any great importance should be attached to such a recognition; because it would be impossible that a citizen of the United States could [complain] to his Government, on account of the capture of his vessel, while engaged in trade absolutely interdicted by the laws of his country.”24 obviously neither he nor Smith viewed this innocuous question as essential, and at last there seemed to be a legitimate chance for a breakthrough. The United States accepted this new proposal, and the president exercised his right to renew commerce with the nation that withdrew the operation of its illegal edicts. He retained it against France, perhaps expect- ing that this action would compel France to do the same once she perceived an advantage to her enemy. So Canning’s initial goal of regaining entrance into American waters and bringing about the repeal of U.S. trade restrictions against Britain while they were kept in force against France was achieved. Smith’s return letter to Erskine accepting the proposal contained a few lines more than just the acceptance of the terms. Perhaps because Erskine had once again brought up the subject of the king’s removal of Admiral Berkeley as a magnanimous gesture, the newly inaugurated President James Madison took the liberty to call his hand. To Madison there was nothing magnanimous about it. Sure, he had been removed, but there had been no punishment, and in fact he had been promoted. Madison compelled Smith to make it perfectly clear to his British counterpart that even though the Americans were accepting the terms, they recognized this constant referral to the king’s disavowal and removal of Admiral Berkeley as repetitive, hollow words, and that issue remained unresolved. The admiral’s recent assignment to yet another important com- 80 the war of 1812, conflict and deception mand had rankled the United States and had become the very centerpiece of all that was wrong with unpunished British officers who were routinely promoted or reassigned after inflicting damage and insult on the people of the United States. Their outrageous and illegal conduct needed more than the king’s “disavowal” before a promotion. Smith wrote: “The President accepts the note delivered by you, in the name and by order of his Britan- nic Majesty . . . but I have it in express charge from the President to state, that while he forbears to insist on a further punishment of the offending officer, he is not the less sensible of the justice and utility of such example, nor the less persuaded that it would best comport with what is due from His Britannic Majesty to his own honor.”25 erskine’s response to Smith, the following day, did not acknowledge the president’s harsh admonishment, but advised that the Orders in Council would be withdrawn on June 10, 1809. The United States confirmed the June 10 date for the mutual rescinding of the British Orders in Council and the American restrictive non-intercourse orders; on April 19, President James Madison signed a proclamation to that effect.26 But the issues had not been resolved, at least not in the mind of George Canning, who upon receipt of Erskine’s papers was enraged and entered into a new phase of hostility. What seemed to have been a satisfactory conclusion to a long-simmering nightmare came crashing to earth. The letter from George Canning to Pinkney on May 27 came as a complete shock to the American. The Crown had recalled David Erskine for making unauthorized promises to America. It claimed that the promises he made were to have been made only on American acceptance of certain conditions, “not one of which he has obtained.” Canning accused Erskine of acting in contradiction to his instructions, but then he refused to detail how that was so. He only advised that a new minister, Francis Jackson, would be immediately assigned and that he would explain it all. A recent, revisionist historian suggested that Canning’s two added provisos were indeed the killer of the negotiations but went on to proclaim that those two demands were “reasonable and essential.”27 There is no evidence supporting his claim that either of these two added provisos was “reasonable” or “essential,” nor does he provide any. He willfully ignores the reality of the state of war and the British blockade. That blockade would have interdicted any ship violating it. The thought that American ships should have been along the French coast to catch any renegade American ships is mindless. And that the absence of an American british demands and madison’s resistance 81 ship in all parts of the world should translate into an American acceptance of British ships enforcing U.S. law is a glaring non sequitur. Is one to think, for one moment, that British ships would not enforce their own blockading law simply because there was no U.S. ship to stop an illegal blockade- runner? A country whose reputation had been to illegally stop ships of all flags to separate them from their seamen hardly needed any “essential” agreement to stop ships running her blockade. And would anyone understand the reverse situation, that if a British smuggler, in violation of British and American laws, ran an American blockade, the United States should expect British ships to be omnipresent and stop that ship, and if they were not there, a U.S. ship would not stop him as he violated U.S. laws? An explanation of this nonsensical reasoning on the part of Canning can possibly be found in its very silliness. Focusing on the illogic of this bogus British demand is its very strength. The purpose of the demand is to shroud the real subject in an impenetrable cloak of obfuscation. It was a recurring tactic of British diplomats to bring about avoidance of solutions previously agreed to, linking such solutions to unacceptable added provisos to perpetuate avoidance. And this tactic was not original with Britain. Napoleon famously instructed his negotiators to promise anything as long as you don’t pay. Had not the emperor said, “Give them a very civil answer, that I will examine the claim, etc., etc.; but of course one never pays that sort of thing.”28 The Crown had certainly learned from Napoleon and avoided the “agreed to” necessity of reparations for the Chesapeake affair for a very long time, with a variety of foot-dragging techniques. While the British continually touted the king’s prompt removal of Admiral Berkeley as proof of an initial “reparation” that pointed to his sincerity to bring about justice, they always managed to avoid actually coming up with the money. This time, instead of finally solving the reparations issue in the straightforward manner as Erskine saw it, Canning saw an opportunity to deny, and further extract from the Americans an additional concession to their sovereignty by linking reparations to a new, bogus demand on shipping restrictions and trade with colonies of combatants at war with each other. And what did Canning have to lose? If the Americans accepted his new demand, he would have won an additional, unexpected victory and would have fur- thered Britain’s claims to maritime excesses. And had not America been labeled the new enemy to Britain’s previous monopoly of waterborne trade? 82 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

If the Americans rejected his proposal, then he had lost nothing and could use the rejection as an additional excuse to still not pay the reparations. He could continue to make it look as if it was America holding up meaningful negotiations, since the king had graciously condemned the original act and “removed” the admiral. Why was that not enough? Robert Smith perfectly described the British intentions. Referring to the still imprisoned three American seamen, he said, “We are called upon to ransom our captives.”29 To highlight that these latest two demands were neither “reasonable” nor “essential,” one should reflect uponC anning’s original interests, as expressed to Pinkney. He had wanted to remove the disadvantage of British warships being excluded from U.S. waters while French warships were not. Now he had gained even more. All British ships would now participate in trade with the United States, while French merchant ships would be continually barred as long as France continued with its trade restrictions against America. He had achieved that. These two “reasonable” and “essential” provisos could only serve to sabotage the entire deal. But was that not his goal? In tracing the communications among Erskine, Canning, and the Ameri- cans, it is hard to see how Erskine’s handling of matters was so egregious and out of line as to elicit such a hostile response from Canning and an embarrassing reneging on the part of the king. The terms of the rejected agreement, accepted by Madison’s proclamation of April 19, were exactly what Canning had sought from the beginning, not one iota less. William Pinkney had reported after the initial meeting with Canning on January 22, 1808, that “the affair of the Chesapeake should be settled at the same time with the business of the orders and embargo.”30 frank Updyke had a much more plausible and rational explanation for the curious British action. He suggested that Madison’s words in his acceptance of the reparation’s terms had included a final admonishment concerning Admiral Berkeley. That, Updyke said, was the real culprit: “The words were considered impertinent and were so deeply resented by the British Cabinet that the negotiations with reference to Chesapeake were broken off and Erskine was severely censured for transmitting a note containing language so discourteous and unbecoming.”31 updyke’s assessment is rendered even more plausible when one exam- ines Francis Jackson’s arrival in America in October. The replacement minister presented himself to renew the exact offer of reparation that Erskine british demands and madison’s resistance 83 had made. He further stated that, contrary to Canning’s promise that he would carry an explanation for the disavowal of the previous agreement, he had no such explanation. The Americans were left to play a guessing game. Later communication with David Erskine confirmed that he had had no misunderstanding with the Americans, “respecting the substance or meaning of the conversations which passed between us” 32 Obviously it was not the terms of the Chesa- peake affair, or the terms of mutually rescinding embargo orders, that had caused the Crown’s disavowal. Did Britain renounce the terms because they did not include an agreement that British ships should enforce American laws? Well, the Americans had wished for a settlement of the claim against Admiral Berkeley, and that had also not been included, but the Americans had not torpedoed the agreement. A continuation of those thorny subjects could easily have been left to other negotiations. Madison had not insisted that the treaty be nullified over Admiral Berkeley. Secretary Smith could not disguise his astonishment and irritation at the lack of purpose of Jackson’s mission, and in the stilted and restricted tone of diplomatic parlance, he recorded: “You have stated that you have no instructions . . . to make any explanation whatever . . . as to the reasons which had induced His Britannic Majesty to disavow the arrangement . . . and therefore you could not make any such explanation.”33 and he chastised Jackson even further, saying that an arrangement had been made with “an accredited minister plenipotentiary of His Britannic Majesty.” And now the king “deemed it proper to disavow it, to recall his minister, and to send another to take his place.”34 At the very least, it was reasonable to expect Jackson to explain why it was refused and to present an alternative proposition. Yet no explanation was forthcoming, and Jackson embarked on a long, tedious, fifteen-hundred-word letter to tellS mith why he had no explanation or counterproposal; he said that although the Americans had been ungracious in the manner in which they had received the king’s generous offer to settle the Chesapeake affair, he was here to re-offer Erskine’s proposal, which the president had not indicated was acceptable. Nothing could have been further from the truth. The Americans had accepted the reparation proposal, but Jackson hinted that the displeasure of the king was related to “the form in which his accredited minister had tendered that reparation, and . . . the manner in which that tender had been received.”35 He could only have been referring to Madison’s admonition 84 the war of 1812, conflict and deception about the Admiral Berkeley affair, and, as Updyke suggested, Jackson was miffed and pitched a fit. Jackson’s concocted diatribe and non-answers led Smith to quote an authority on public law to him: “To refuse, with honor, to ratify what has been concluded on by virtue of a full power, it is necessary that the Government should have strong and solid reasons, and that he show in particular, that his minister has violated his instructions.”36 smith again pressed Jackson to explain how the new offer he had been authorized to “re-present” differed from Erskine’s offer and why he wanted to start new negotiations on the subjects already agreed upon, especially the Chesapeake case, “as if no such arrangement had taken place.” And in that particular case, the injuries to the United States were still being inflicted by the continued, illegal detention of herA merican seamen. Finally, Jackson said that the reason for disavowal of the repeal of the Orders in Council was the king’s insistence that the United States relinquish her right to trade with the colonies of France and her allies, and also allow the British Navy to execute America’s laws. Both of these require- ments were always intrinsically unacceptable to the United States and never a matter of negotiation and were not included in Erskine’s proposal. But that still did not explain why the Chesapeake terms had been rejected. Jackson attempted to justify the rejection by proclaiming that Erskine did not have the authority or “full power” to pursue the subjects agreed to, so they should have been disavowed. But Jackson was caught in his own words, and Smith pounced on him. “If the authority of your predecessor did not embrace the subjects in question so as to bind his Government, it necessarily follows, that [your] credentials, being the same as those presented by him, give you no authority to bind it.”37 Jackson was caught, and sought to deflect by the time-honored tic of referring to the king’s disavowal as a meaningful gesture, and tried to again assert that Erskine had only a general letter of credence, whereas he had a full power credential, and that the Americans should have known that, and he would be happy to exchange with Smith those credentials, even though he had not seen fit to present them before.I n fact Jackson never presented his credentials in this full-blown sham, and the Americans doubted that he had ever had them.38 On November 8, 1809, Robert Smith had had enough of Francis Jackson. He wrote to him that “no further communications will be received from you, and that the necessity of this determination will, without delay, be made known to your Government.”39 british demands and madison’s resistance 85

Jackson’s brief reign as a foreign minister was over, but even though he could not function as one and was unacceptable to the United States, the Crown did not recall him for a year and a half. Perhaps it was to snub the United States, and if it was, it eventually forced William Pinkney to declare his intention to return to the United States, since the British had shown no interest in appointing a foreign minister to Washington. His presence in London was unjustified without a corresponding representative in the United States. As soon as he announced his plans to go home, Great Britain suddenly scrambled to appoint a new minister to Washington. Pinkney thought this sudden appointment was suspect and not representative of any preplanned goodwill, but forced in response to his own departure. He made one last effort to discover British intentions. Was it a sincere desire to deal with the long-standing grievances, or was it more obfuscation? If the appointment of a new British minister revealed any sincerity, Pinkney thought he might continue the U.S. mission in London, where his presence might be of some service. He addressed a letter to Lord Wellesley, the new minister of foreign affairs, and candidly asked if the appointment of this new minister meant that the Orders in Council and the 1806 orders for blockade might be repealed, and if the Chesapeake reparations might now be resolved. If those issues were not to be addressed and resolved, then Pinkney felt that the new appointment was “nothing, or rather worse than nothing.”40 wellesley’s answer confirmed Pinkney’s worst fears. The secretary for foreign affairs confirmed that the Orders in Council were to remain in force, and his words on other subjects were as vague as any British minister’s had ever been. “To mistake the views of this Government is now impossible,” Pinkney complained. “They are such as I always believed them to be, and will, I hope, be resisted with spirit and firmness.”41 Pinkney sidestepped an audience of royal presentation for all foreign ministers. “My appearance,” he said, “would, moreover, encourage the delusion which now prevails concerning the views of the British Government towards America.” He took his leave on February 28, 1811, to return to the United States. The new British minister, Augustus J. Foster, departed for America at almost the same time, with instructions to make reparations for the Chesa- peake affair, but reparations that would in no way be derogatory to Great 86 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Britain.42 However, before Foster could even begin to address his mission, the consequences of continued impressments once again swept the Chesa- peake affair into the background, where it had spent most of its four-year life. On May 1, 1811, the British ship HMS Guerriere stopped the USS Spit- fire during a new wave of British stoppages and impressments and took an American off the ship in the usual manner. The man was from Maine, and the incident happened just inside New York waters, and the citizens of New York were hopping mad. The secretary of the navy dispatched the USS President from Annapolis to act in response to the incident.43 on May 16 she spotted a vessel that might have been the offending Guer- riere and gave chase, finally catching her just at dusk after a seven-hour chase. “I hailed ‘What ship is that?’” said Captain John Rodgers. But there was no answer, only a voice that boomed back to him asking the exact same question. The two ships were less than one hundred yards apart. From every porthole and from the gangways, the American gun crews stared anxiously out at the dark form of the mystery ship. Captain Henry Caldwell, the commandant of the marines on board, stood next to the captain, who, now for a second time, hailed the other ship. After a pause of fifteen or twenty seconds, Captain Rodgers again raised the trumpet to his mouth and repeated his question. “I was answered by a shot that clipped off one of our main topmast stays. At that instant Captain Caldwell . . . observed, ‘Sir, she has fired on us.’”44 within a few seconds, and before Captain Rodgers could give the order, one of President’s guns returned fire. Alexander James Dallas had been observing from a porthole by his battle station. He was the ship’s third lieutenant and in command of the second division of President’s guns. His orders had been to not fire unless first fired upon, and there was no question that he had been fired upon. A“ s soon as I perceived the flash and heard the reports . . . I got in from the port and fired a gun from the second division,” he said.45 “It was answered from our assumed enemy,” said Captain Rodgers, “by three others in quick succession, and soon after by the rest of his broadside and musketry.”46 The cannonade shocked the Americans but hardly left them paralyzed. The captain commenced his own broadsides and in five minutes saw that the enemy ship had greatly reduced her fire, so he ceased. Again there was silence across the dark waters. But Captain Rodgers’s mercy was soon rewarded by sudden resumed fire from the almost invisible enemy ship, and a 32-pound shot struck and damaged President’s foremast. british demands and madison’s resistance 87

rodgers had had enough of this cat-and-mouse game and ordered broadsides, and in five minutes, the other ship was silent. In the dark, he could not see the damage to his adversary. The ships drifted apart and lost contact during the night, but in the morning, he saw the wrecked other ship almost eight miles away. President was only slightly damaged and closed with HMS Little Belt, brandishing twenty guns. Captain Arthur Bingham was in command of the British ship and reported to Rodgers’s boarding party that he had suffered great damage. He listed nine men killed (four more died within hours) and more than twenty men wounded. Among the other Americans who had been forced to fight against their own country on Little Belt was an impressed seaman, Robert Howell, who died from a massive cannonball wound. He had muttered a condemnation of the British in his dying breaths, “See to what you have brought me, to force me to fight against my brothers; my own countrymen have taken my life through your means.”47 when President returned to port, Stephen Decatur convened a court of inquiry to determine what had happened. He called all men still serving on President, in any position of authority, as witnesses and concluded that the action of Captain Rodgers was correct, that Little Belt had precipitated the incident, had flown no identifying colors, and had been offered assistance the following day when her identity was known.48 The British claimed otherwise, trying to shift blame even to the point of comparing the incident to Chesapeake, and demanded reparations. On September 14, 1811, James Monroe wrote in disgust to Augustus Foster, who had been sent to America specifically to settle that claim. It was now five months since he had arrived for that mission. I“ t is not without surprise that the case of the Chesapeake is cited as an example supporting a demand for reparation in the present case,” wrote Monroe. “No other remark will be made than the fifth year is now elapsing without reparation in that case.” One month later, in response to the investigation of the Little Belt affair, he wrote: “The President, therefore, can regard the act of Captain Bingham not otherwise than as a hostile aggression on the flag of theU nited States.”49

On November 1, 1811, Minister Augustus Foster declared that he had received from the prince regent,50 on behalf of His Majesty George III, orders for the final settlement of the Chesapeake affair. He began with the usual recitation. “I am instructed to repeat . . . the prompt disavowal made by 88 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

H is Majesty on being apprized of the unauthorized act of the officer in command of his naval forces on the coast of America, whose recall from a highly important and honorable command immediately ensued as a mark of His Majesty’s disapproval.”51 The Americans had heard this preamble before, but it seemed that the British were conditioned to recite it as if the words somehow mitigated the embarrassing fact that His Majesty, and his government, did not honor their bills. It was as if, somehow, the Americans had not understood that for five years they had been the recipients of some sort of royal largesse in the form of the king’s words, and that was more important than money, or freedom for the enslaved. And that the Americans had never appreciated the relieving of Admiral Berkeley in the proper and separate light that it warranted. His non-punishment and later promotion had not been appreciated for the royal largesse that the king obviously thought they represented. This was the conditioned response and mind-set of the British government. When Pavlov’s dog heard the bell, he salivated. When the British heard the words “Chesapeake reparations,” they blurted out their rehearsed lines. After the perfunctory recitation, Foster revealed that he was also authorized to restore the men, forcibly taken from Chesapeake, back to that vessel. Of course, that wasn’t much of an offer. Two of the four men were dead—one had been hanged, and another had died, still an impressed seaman. There was also an offer of monetary compensation to those who had been wounded and to the families of the killed.52 on November 12, the Americans accepted the offer, but James Monroe’s letter responding to Foster did not fail to mention the obvious. “It is much to be regretted,” he said, “that the reparation due for such an aggression . . . should have been so long delayed; nor could the translation of the offending officer from one command to another be regarded as constituting a part of a reparation.”53 at the same time, President Madison asked Congress to beef up the American military defenses, and in January 1812, it did just that, authorizing a more than threefold increase from 10,000 to 35,000. In April, Congress authorized a 100,000-man call-up of the militia for six months and a further call for 50,000 volunteers. But other than authorizing that merchant ships be armed, there was no provision offered, after contentious debate in Congress, for expanding or improving the navy.54 british demands and madison’s resistance 89

The settling of the Chesapeake affair in no way deluded Madison to conclude that there had been a softening of hardline British positions. In fact it might have convinced him that the matters of Orders in Council and impressments of American seamen would be much more difficult to settle than the five years it took Britain to settle an affair that she actually “condemned.” There was no such condemnation of impressments or Orders in Council, so the drift to war continued and the assault on American shipping and seamen continued. Madison had not been content to drift without warning Great Britain that there was a roaring, plunging cataract just ahead; but all appeals to redress grievances had fallen on deaf ears. He had confided to an adviser, W“ e have been so long dealing in small ways of embargoes, non-intercourse, and non-importation, with menaces of war . . . the British Government has not believed us.” He stated, “Perceval prefers war with us to a repeal of their Or- ders in Council. We have nothing left therefore than to make ready for it.”55 in the first days ofD ecember, Congress began debate on a November 29 report from the Committee on Foreign Relations that contained six resolutions for preparing for war. They resolved to raise a standing army from the militia and to prepare the navy. Felix Grundy, from Tennessee, rose to report on the committee’s work and to define his own position against the history of British attacks that now required action. He asked rhetorically if it was not trade that the great dispute was all about? It was, but it was more than simply trade. It was about British violation of international law to dictate world trade as she saw fit to do. “Neither public law nor justice, but power alone, is made by her the test of maritime rights. . . . I am not prepared to say that this country shall permit to have her commerce interdicted or regulated by any foreign nation. Sir, I prefer war to submission.”56 Grundy turned his attention to the growing incidents of Indian attacks, and asked “if British gold has not been employed.” He painfully reminded the members of Congress that in 1808 this very body had proclaimed that there were only three options to try against Brit- ish aggression: “war, embargo, or submission.” It was now 1811 and “we now have no embargo; we have not declared war . . . we have submitted.” To Felix Grundy, it was time to “drive the British from our Continent. . . . They will no longer have an opportunity of intriguing with our Indian neighbors, and setting on the ruthless savage to tomahawk our women and children.”57 90 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

The House was anxious to hear John Calhoun, from South Carolina, the committee chairman. When he finally rose to speak, the bombastic John Randolph of Virginia had preceded him and agitated the House. Randolph delivered a long, nonsensical speech lionizing Great Britain as his proud ancestry while ignoring her present unjustified and provocative actions. To him nothing was worth war against England, and if we were to prepare for war against Britain, were we not discriminating by not also condemning France? He railed against raising a standing army from the general population and the militia, and insulted and denigrated the men who would compose that army. He called them “the scouring of the seaports to be collected by the scav- engers of the army” and said they were “10,000 vagabonds who were fit food for gunpowder” and “miserable wretches who sell themselves to slavery for a few dollars and a glass of gin.” He even managed to especially insult the people of New Orleans, whom he said were “separated by a vast extent of wilderness from the settlements of the old United States; filled with disloyal turbulent people, alien to our institutions, language, and manners, and disaffected toward our Government.” 58 To the Anglophile Randolph, common language and blood ties trumped all and should always bind us to Great Britain. Calhoun dismantled Randolph’s diatribe piece by piece, especially point- ing out the folly of Randolph’s attempt to separate the British presence in Canada as having nothing to do with her outrages with the Indians and in American waters and on the high seas. An attack on Canada, to Randolph’s thinking, would be unprovoked and a matter of American land aggrandizement. Calhoun scoffed at the nonsense of this idea questioning the logic that, “If you receive a blow to the breast, you dare not return it to the head; you are obliged to measure and return it on the precise point on which it was received?”59 when Calhoun had concluded, Representative John Desha from Ken- tucky, who rarely spoke on the floor of theH ouse, surprised his colleagues and rose to speak. Desha’s reputation was “to think much but speak but little,” but obviously he thought now was a time to speak.60 He especially condemned the deception and cunning of the British Foreign Office as it conducted a novel tactic of war: war on the diplomatic front. The long, drawn-out foot-dragging in the Chesapeake affair was no accident. He had not been fooled by Britain’s delaying tactics and saw them made manifest british demands and madison’s resistance 91 in the steady stream of “indoctrinated” foreign ministers that the Crown sent to America. He recognized it as another British tool to wage war. “I see not the least prospect of a revocation of her destructive Orders in Council, [or] of the releasement of our impressed countrymen, [or] a relin- quishment of the principles of impressments, nor restitution for damages,” said the outraged Desha. “Insult has been the result of . . . negotiation; for instance, Mr. Rose was sent for no other purpose than to gull the government, and because Erskine was disposed to do us justice, he was recalled and disgraced. The conduct of . . . Mr. Jackson, demonstrated that he was sent for the purpose of bullying. What has Mr. Foster been sent for? In my opinion, for no other purpose than to operate as an opiate on the Govern- ment; to lull us to sleep.”61 This fierceD ecember 1811 debate raged on for two weeks with, as Geor- gia representative George Troup described, “the great mass of the House . . . on one side, against the solitary gentleman from Virginia (Mr. Randolph) on the other.”62 it finally ended on December 16, 1811, but not before a parting three- hour harangue from Randolph. A vote on the Foreign Relations Committee Report was ordered. The first vote was on the resolution to raise 10,000 regular troops for three years and offer a bounty of land as encouragement to enlist. That passed 113 to 16. The second resolution was for the president to order out, from time to time, necessary militia as he saw fit. That passed 120 to 8. The third resolution was that all navy vessels worthy of repair be immediately fitted up and commissioned. That passed 111 to 15.63 Randolph was always in this minuscule minority. Revisionists have consistently ignored these lopsided votes to fit their story line that it was a deeply divided United States that went to war. They simply proclaim, “The debate of the Twelfth Congress was not one-sided” and “The debate underlined the deep divisions between states and representatives of the same state.” 64 None of that is true; and the cumulative congressional vote of 344 yeas to 39 nays hardly supports such claims. A few days later, the House voted to defeat the resolution that called for the arming of privateers of vessels only owned and commanded by Ameri can citizens, and replaced it with the stronger resolution “to authorize merchant vessels of the United States to arm.”65 That resolution carried by a whopping 97 to 22 and set the stage for an all-out assault against the British and their supply lines on the high seas, by a fleet of privateers.66 92 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Throughout the two weeks of debate, the causes justifying this move to prepare for war were repeated in every speech. Those causes were crystal clear: violations of shipping rights, seizures of ships, impressments, and the continued enslavement of American citizens. The state representatives taking to the floor of theH ouse of Representatives were not vague on these subjects; they addressed them with great passion. Even the reluctant Ran- dolph admitted that these grievances were causes for war. How the writers of revisionist history can simply dismiss these passion- ate, documented arguments and speeches remains a mystery. For revisionists, the impressments question becomes a thorny twig. No matter how one approaches to grasp it, it is impossible to avoid the thorns. The only way to avoid getting stuck is to not grasp the twig. And that is exactly what revisionists do. They substitute grasping the facts with nonsensical proclamations, and they dismiss the entire subject by simply saying it isn’t so. One such writer began his work with “The causes of the war were obscure.” Another stated on his first page: “Its causes are shrouded in mystery.” And a third actually dismissed the whole affair in his very first sentence: “Whatever the War of 1812 was about, it was not about . . . Free trade and sailors’ rights.”67

As Americans debated during this drift to war, Prime Minister Spencer Perceval, the author and champion of the hated Orders in Council that continued with maximum force against American shipping, had his own appointed date with destiny. On May 11, John Bellingham, an aggrieved British subject, stood waiting for the prime minister’s arrival in the Palace of Westminster and, at point blank range, shot and assassinated him. If the Orders in Council were to continue, they would continue under a new administration. Twenty days later, the United States declared war against Great Britain. On July 11, 1812, one month into the war, a British schooner, HMS Bream, sailed into Charleston Harbor under a flag of truce. The commanding officer, British lieutenant John Simpson, disembarked with two other men and boarded the USS Chesapeake, tied up at the Navy Yard. The three men were received by an American naval officer, Lieutenant Jesse Wilkinson. The British officer announced that he had been directed to return the two other men to the deck of Chesapeake. Wilkinson received the two, long-missing british demands and madison’s resistance 93 seamen, John Strachan and Daniel Martin, and gave a short reply to the British lieutenant: “Sir, I am commanded by Commodore Bainbridge, to receive those two American seamen on the very deck from which they were wantonly taken in time of peace by a vessel of your Nation of Superior Force.”68 5 On to Canada War and Reality

That war with Great Britain could have been both predictable and, at the same time, unexpected is hardly an oxymoron. That such a war would require a naval force can be seen in Thomas Jefferson’s letter to Congress on February 10, 1807. He envisioned not a deep-water navy, but an inland and lakes navy capable of defending the vulnerable entrances to the interior of the country and also capable of joining with fixed forts on land to repulse an invading army. He felt that two hundred gunboats could protect those vital harbor entrances from New Orleans to Maine. Having to engage an enemy on the high seas seemed a remote possibility for the survival of the nation, but repelling an invasion was very probable. If an enemy chose to launch an attack from the west, he would be confronted by the obstacles of the Mississippi River and the other great rivers of North America that flowed from north to south. An attack from the south and east would necessitate a seaborne assault and risky amphibious landings at the ports and water entrances to the country. Gunboats would be invaluable to repel such attacks. Two hundred gunboats could be built for the same cost as five or six deep-water ships of the line.1 Large ships would have little value in the shallow lakes and rivers of the eastern and southern seaboard. The most vulnerable points of attack were through the waters surrounding New York and Boston and through the southern waters along the Mis- sissippi River and New Orleans. And it was New Orleans, and the waters of the Mississippi, that had been alluring to Napoleon’s quest to reestablish French empire in Louisiana in 1803, until foiled by yellow fever. And if Napoleon had thought the route to conquest and victory was through New

94 on to canada: war and reality 95

Orleans, then certainly another army might also come to that same conclusion. Jefferson envisioned a fleet of 140 gunboats to defend those possible avenues of enemy approach.2 an overland attack from the north was yet another possibility, but a more remote one. In such an attack, the obvious enemy would be Great Britain, and she would not be faced with the difficulty of actually having to land on foreign soil to begin her attack. Britain was already in position from her base in nearby Canada. But such a northern attack would require maintaining a long supply line, and that would require control of the Great Lakes. Such a supply line would become most vulnerable to being cut by patrolling American gunboats roaming the waterways and lakes. From a cost standpoint, the gunboat navy also had a lot to offer. In peacetime, instead of dismantling and scrapping a large deep-water navy, these inexpensive gunboats could be stored, put up in mothballs, but ready to use at a moment’s notice. They would not be manned and would not drain the treasury with crews perpetually on active service. Jefferson reported on mothballing the fleet: “Those unemployed, would be withdrawn into places not exposed to sudden enterprise, and hauled up under Sheds, from the sun and weather & kept in preservation with little expense for repairs or maintenance.”3 from these early Jefferson naval thoughts came the plan for naval pre- paredness up to the outset of war in June 1812. Jefferson’s idea of a special- ized defensive navy was prudent, since he certainly was not on a course to challenge the naval might of Great Britain. In 1812, the United States’ fleet consisted of sixteen ships, minus the gunboats. This was hardly a deep- water threat to the English fleet of some 600 ships of all types, actively commissioned and ready for immediate deployment. In British dockyards, another 250 ships were either under construction or being refitted.4 Great Britain’s title of “Leviathan of the Deep” was richly deserved. The only question to be decided in the event of war was how to deploy the U.S. Navy. What should be the tactics and strategy? Some thought that the precious few ships should remain in the sheltered waters of the United States, to be used strictly for defense against invasion and not risked to certain destruction confronting the powerful English fleet. But that type of ti- midity was scoffed at by many offensive-minded captains who thought that aggressive action was needed in war and that simply waiting for the enemy to strike was the ultimate folly. Victory required risk, and risks sometimes cost ships, but lost ships in the pursuit of victory could be replaced.5 96 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

The naval tactical brain trust consisted of commodores John Rodgers and Stephen Decatur, whose duty was to advise Secretary of the Navy Paul Hamilton. Both men were aggressive commanders, but each had different ideas for deploying the fleet. Rodgers wrote on June 3, 1812, that he thought the British Navy was ripe for aggressive, hard-hitting tactics that would prevent it from massing on America’s coast. Sharp attacks would disrupt British trade and cause the greatest “annoyance.” Light vessels could attack Britain’s West India trade, and larger ships could greatly disrupt her East India and coastal trade. A small squadron of fast sailing ships could even roam the coasts of Britain and Ireland, bringing the war to England’s doorstep, and similar ships could create havoc with the enemy’s trade with colonial Canada. And if the occasion were to present itself, all the frigates could mass for a combined attack on Britain’s East India trade. These tactics, according to Rodgers, would be “the least expected by . . . the self styled Lords of the Ocean!!”6 decatur, on the other hand, felt that an aggressive captain seeking out action against the enemy was far more threatening and that ships should operate individually or in pairs. Many ships making distant cruises would compel the British navy to employ its ships away from the U.S. coast and in pursuit of the roaming Americans. “It is my opinion,” he said, “many vessels in any one port would invite attack & might place it in the power of the Enemy by one attack, to destroy the whole.”7 secretary of the Navy Hamilton finally decided that the two fleets should operate independent of each other, with Rodgers’s command consisting of the frigates President, Essex, John Adams, and Hornet, operating out of Norfolk and the Chesapeake Bay. Decatur’s squadron of United States, Con- gress, and Argus would patrol in the waters off New York. Each commander would make the utmost effort to plan and coordinate his operations in “harmony” with the other squadron, and they were to join forces when an opportunity might present itself.8 Unfortunately, Hamilton’s orders for this plan arrived in Norfolk one day after Rodgers and Decatur had sailed their ships on far-flungA tlantic patrols.

Preparations for a land war against the Crown were vastly different and infinitely more complicated than preparing tactics and strategy for a war at sea. The drift to war with Great Britain had included not only the possibil- on to canada: war and reality 97 ity of attack from the British Army mustering from Canada or landing by ship at some strategic spot, but also a dreaded, merciless war with Indians who had been lured into an alliance with the British. From 1807, at about the time of the Chesapeake incident, U.S. agents from the Department of Indian Affairs filed disquieting reports of increas- ingly hostile Indian actions and maneuvering. The threat of an Indian war was even more ominous than a war with Great Britain. In March 1812, Captain J. Rhea, serving with the army on the frontier, wrote from Fort Wayne, “You say if we have a British War, we shall have an Indian war this spring. I have every reason to believe we shall have an Indian war this spring, whether we have a British war or not. I am told the Indians are making every preparation. There is certainly a very deep plan going on among the Indians.”9 on April 15, Captain N. Herald reported, “The Indians have commenced hostilities in this quarter.” Eleven Indians attacked two settlers, one an American named Liberty White, and the other an unknown Frenchman. The savagery of the murder of White was familiar to settlers and struck fear and dread into their hearts. Captain Herald said, “White received two balls through his body; nine stab wounds with a knife to his breast and one to his hip; his throat was cut from ear to ear—his nose and ear were taken off in one piece, and he was skinned almost as far round as they could find any hair. The Frenchman was only shot through the neck, and scalped.”10 on May 6, 1812, William Henry Harrison, governor of the Indiana Ter- ritory, wrote concerning dangerous, increased Indian hostilities: “Most of the citizens of this country have abandoned their farms, and have taken refuge in such temporary forts as they have been able to construct.”11 There could be no doubt of the growing agitation and arming of the In- dians on the part of British agents. A constant Indian traffic visiting the British agency in Fort Malden, just across the Detroit River in Canada, had been documented; and those Indians returning from Malden were always loaded down with guns, powder, ammunition, and everything they needed for war. An agent reported, “Every Indian is furnished with a gun, and an abundance of ammunition.”12 in the four years from 1807 through 1810, there had been only five letters a year to the War Department from American agents, soldiers, and governors concerning Indian affairs. Suddenly in 1811, that correspondence exploded to twenty-seven letters, each detailing Indian attacks, intrigues, and suspected British influence.13 98 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

on May 24, 1811, a very disturbing report arrived from St. Louis concerning a meeting of tribes around the head of the Wabash River. It was extremely hostile and threatened with death any traitor that would reveal information about this secret meeting. “The time is drawing near when the murder is to begin,” said the ominous report, “and all the Indians who will not join are to die with the whites.”14 The British had found willing allies among many of the Indians who were outraged over the sale of land by other Indians to the United States— land that they contended those chiefs had no authority to sell. The leader was a Shawnee chief named Tecumseh, and his warlike brother Tensskwa- tawa was called The Prophet. On August 12, 1810, Tecumseh had taken his grievances to Governor William Henry Harrison in Vincennes in the Indiana Territory and, in no uncertain terms, told Harrison that “the white people, who are never contented but always encroaching,” made his happy people miserable. To Harrison he said, “Sir, you have liberty to return to your own country.”15

Plan of Tippecanoe. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. on to canada: war and reality 99

william Henry Harrison was determined to blunt this confederacy of Indian nations nurtured by Tecumseh, and he marched a force of 1,000 men to Prophetstown, a mile from the Tippecanoe River in northern Indi- ana. It would be a show of force to challenge and disperse the disgruntled Indians, and if hostilities developed, it would be much more. Tecumseh was away from Prophetstown on that day, recruiting warriors for a future showdown to take back lands that he felt had been sold illegally to the United States. On that day, The Prophet was in charge. On November 6, 1811, Harrison’s force went into camp near Prophets town, and Harrison arranged a meeting with The Prophet for the following morning. But The Prophet was not waiting until the morning to act. He delivered a rousing speech exhorting his men to attack the enemy and promised them that the soldiers’ bullets would not harm them since he would cast a spell upon them to protect them, and to blind the Americans. Using the cover of darkness, he maneuvered his 500 warriors into an advantageous position to launch a two-pronged attack on Harrison’s camp, and he mounted a high rocky outcropping to observe and order the battle. But Harrison was not oblivious to the possibility of treachery on the part of the Indians, and he placed his men in a large box formation on some elevated ground along a creek between the confluence of theW abash and Tippecanoe Rivers. He lit fires to illuminate the area, and posted sentinels. But despite these precautions, the attack crashed into his camp with ex- ceptional fury, and the sleeping men were jolted awake to find screaming Indians in their midst and even on top of them. Taken completely by surprise, the soldiers scrambled to meet the onslaught. Men acting as individuals and in small groups moved to confront the attackers. They finally formed a line and held their ground in a wild melee that lasted more than two hours. The fighting was close-quartered, and Harrison desperately sought to rally his troops. John Tipton described the wild fight and confusion. “[TheA mericans] many times mixed among the Indians so that we Could not tell them Indians and our men apart.”16 The Prophet launched simultaneous attacks both north and south of the encampment, and the struggling Kentucky volunteers threw several charges back. In the end, the Indian attack failed. Low on ammunition and disheartened that the American bullets did indeed kill them despite The Prophet’s promise, the Indians retreated. “They went in cutting and slashing most fearlessly and indifferently; but readily lost faith in him when they saw each other falling, pierced by the 100 the war of 1812, conflict and deception musket and rifle balls of the white man.”17 They fell back under superior American firepower. The Prophet retreated with them, still trying to rally them, but to no avail. His casualties can only be guessed at, but for Harri- son’s force, 62 men were killed and another 120 wounded. On November 6, Harrison burned Prophetstown and returned to Vincennes. The Prophet was stripped of power, and Tecumseh, upon his return, allied himself with Great Britain for future war with the United States.

The initial offensive attack of the War of 1812 was entrusted to General William Hull to make a strike into Upper Canada from a base at Detroit.18 Hull had not received word that war had been declared until July 2, two weeks after the declaration, while he marched his 1,500-man army to the west. He slogged his way through two hundred miles of wilderness from Urbana in Ohio, to Detroit, and even passed the British stronghold at Mal- den standing menacingly just on the other side of the river.19 his original mission had been to provide a defensive force to protect settlers against the possibility of Indian attack. The threat of such an attack had initiated this daunting march that entailed building roads and bridges and even four blockhouses for future convoys and reinforcements. It was backbreaking and exhausting, and the inexperienced militia that Hull described as less than disciplined did it all. But he also praised them for having endured the ordeal and borne it all with “patience.”20 despite their long march, once the army arrived in Detroit, these green troops were now eager for action. The enemy was seen encamped directly opposite the river, in full view, and Hull declared, “An impatience was excited, and a strong wish manifested among both officers and men, to cross the river and commence offensive operations.”21 But Hull did not share his soldiers’ enthusiasm; he was unsure and hesitant. There is an old military axiom: “When in doubt, attack.” It is the very essence of seizing the initiative and forcing an enemy to react to your actions, and the principles of war absolutely abhor the idea of waiting for the enemy to attack so you might react to him. Even Hull’s green militia seemed to have grasped the spirit of that axiom. But Hull had not, and dithered and called a meeting with his officers to talk things over. Hull’s written order had read, “Sir, war is declared against Great Britain. You will be on your guard, proceed to your post with all possible expedi- on to canada: war and reality 101 tion, make such arrangements for the defence of the country, as in your judgment may be necessary, and wait for further orders.” But at this July 9 war council, Hull told the officers that his orders were “to march with all possible expedition to Detroit and there wait for further orders.”22 he seemed to have left out the very important sentence about defending the country as might be necessary in his best judgment. And the enemy sitting on his doorstep would seem to have called for a judgment to attack. What tactic could better defend the country than to drive the enemy from his doorstep? But instead Hull asked his officers their opinion that would “allay the impatience which had been excited.”23 No one wanted to “allay the impatience.” They wanted to exploit the impatience, and they encouraged Hull to cross the river, attack the enemy, and take possession of the opposite bank. Colonel Lewis Cass seemed to be the most vocal in this unanimous opinion. But Hull brushed them all off and declared, “As long as I command that army, I should obey the orders of the Government.”24 That was a puzzling statement. What then was the purpose of the council? Was he looking for someone to disobey the government’s orders? Was Hull looking perhaps for an ally to validate his indecision? If so, he found none. Instead he found his men straining at the leash in the face of the enemy, encouraged by officers who wanted to attack. Perhaps the unanimity of his officers surprised him and forced him into an embarrassing corner with no support, and thus he fell back on the lame excuse that he was obeying orders, which he was not. But Hull’s own words hint at his dilemma, and he resorted to criticizing his own men. “The circumstance of this Council . . . shew the temper and inexperience of my officers, and the difficulty of my command.”25 Almost as soon as he uttered those words, he was further humiliated. It was as if the Fates were waiting for just such a bombastic statement before smiting him with the ultimate embarrassment. Just as the council broke up, a messenger arrived with a letter from the secretary of war. We can only imagine Hull’s face in the presence of his officers when the secretary ordered the very attack that his officers had pushed for and he had denied. He was ordered to cross the Detroit River to secure the area from Indian attack and to possibly lure Canadians to join the American side. He was also to attack the poorly defended British Fort Malden at Amherstburg, eighteen miles to the east of Detroit. on July 12, Hull finally crossed intoC anada, and the outnumbered enemy fell back. But for the next month Hull was the very essence of indecision. 102 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

H e concluded that the enemy commanded both the lake and the savages; and he wanted to wait for his cannons; and when they arrived, he still did not attack because he overestimated the enemy’s strength despite his three- to-one advantage. He finally decided to attack Fort Malden on August 6, but that plan too went awry when rumors that British reinforcements were on the move paralyzed him. Everything so unnerved Hull that he abandoned his position, faced the army to the rear, and re-crossed the Detroit River.26 When a small force of British reinforcements finally did arrive—five days later—the British commander exploited Hull’s terror and on August 15, demanded his surrender. Not a shot had been fired. The next day, those British forces, reinforced with Tecumseh’s Indian allies, crossed the Detroit River to the American side, threatened Hull, and began bombardment of the fort. Against the advice of the same officers who, one month earlier, had advised him to attack, Hull chose to surrender his entire force of 1,600 men, thirty-three guns, twenty-five hundred muskets, and all his stores and supplies. General Isaac Brock, the surprised British commander, wrote to his superiors, “When I detail my good fortune, you will be astonished.” 27 With that victory, the British proclaimed that the Michigan Territory was again theirs. It would not be re-captured until General William Henry Harrison’s fall campaign in 1813. If President Madison thought things could not have gotten worse, he was wrong. In October, a second attempt was made to invade Upper Can- ada in an attack across the Niagara River to seize Queenstown. This too was a complete failure. While it was originally planned to have been a coordinated attack with General Hull, it was hardly that. It too suffered from poor leadership in the person of General Van Renssaelaer, who was not a soldier, had never commanded troops, and whose talents were as an adept politician. Complicating matters even more was General in Chief Henry Dearborn, who, like Hull, was equally squeamish to fight the enemy.I n fact, Dearborn, at the first opportunity, declared an unauthorized cease-fire from Niagara to Montreal that would last for a month until a miffed President Madison voided it.28 The offensive against Queenstown began on October 13, 1812. The Americans landed and made some initial progress; but the British forces held firm under excellent leadership, and when reinforcements arrived on their side and did not on the American side, they carried the day. The end on to canada: war and reality 103 result was a second failed attempt to invade Canada and a second Ameri- can army defeated with significant American casualties. Eleven hundred Americans had successfully crossed the Niagara River and, because they were not reinforced, most became casualties, with more than 800 captured by the British. Theodore Roosevelt wrote, “Our defeats were exactly such as any man might have foreseen, and there is nothing to be learned from the follies committed by incompetent commanders and untrained troops when in the presence of skilled officers having under them disciplined soldiers.”29 on November 4, 1812, James Madison addressed Congress concerning the debacle at Detroit: “General Hull . . . possessing discretionary authority to act offensively, passed into the neighboring territory of the enemy, with a prospect of easy and victorious progress. The expedition terminated unfortunately, not only in a retreat to the town and fort of Detroit, but in the surrender of both, and of the gallant corps commanded by that officer. The causes of this painful reverse will be investigated by a military tribunal.”30 Perhaps even more sensational was Madison’s report of “the most shocking butcheries of defenceless families.” In Hull’s capitulation at Detroit, he had also surrendered the forces at Fort Dearborn, to the west, at the mouth of the Chicago River. The terms for the surrender of Fort Dearborn were for the commander, Captain Nathan Heald, to turn the fort over to the Indians except for arms and ammunition. Heald was then to move his party to Fort Wayne. In return the Indians guaranteed a safe passage for his party, which included women and children.31 But on the morning of August 15, as Heald led his party out of the fort, he was ambushed by an Indian force of 500. The small force of friendly Indians detailed to guard Heald’s party ran off, and the American militia and the small force of regular soldiers were left to fight alone and resisted ferociously. Rather than suffer more casualties in their attack, the Indians offered to spare the lives of the party if the Americans would surrender, and the soldiers immediately suspected treachery and rejected the offer. But they were hopelessly outnumbered and finally agreed to lay down their arms. The Indians came forward to collect them and tomahawked four of the soldiers.32 They now unleashed their savagery upon the other helpless Americans. Half of the soldiers were killed, and the local militia force was completely destroyed. Nor was the attack limited to the defenders of Heald’s party. One screaming Indian climbed into a covered wagon and tomahawked 104 the war of 1812, conflict and deception twelve of the children and two of the women. Heald was wounded and taken prisoner, but a second officer, sent from Fort Wayne, was not only killed but beheaded, and had his heart cut out and eaten.33 on January 3, 1814, a court-martial convened to try General William Hull of charges of “treason, cowardice, neglect of duty, and unofficer-like conduct.” It lasted until March 25 and found him guilty. The following day, the members of the court, “in consequence of their determination . . . do 34 sentence him to be shot to death.” The proceedings and sentence of the court-martial were ordered to be read at the head of each regiment of the army. President Madison com- muted the death sentence, mindful of Hull’s honorable service in the Revo- lution. He was disgraced and dismissed from the army, and that was his legacy. Twenty-nine months after the catastrophe at Detroit, under much the same circumstances, a different army under a very different leader would face a similar daunting march, building roads and bridges, in their race to confront a superior enemy force.

In that November address to Congress, President Madison somberly con- fessed, “Our expectation of gaining the command of the lakes, by the invasion of Canada from Detroit, having been disappointed . . . measures were instantly taken to provide on [the lakes], a naval force superior to that of the enemy . . . everything that can be done may be expected.”35 madison’s upbeat tone was most likely due in no small part to a surprising and uplifting naval victory provided by Captain Isaac Hull, the nephew of the disgraced General William Hull. Isaac Hull was a man of action and leadership, and he commanded the fifty-six-gunU .S. frigate Constitution, which was set to sail out of Boston Harbor. He had anxiously awaited operational orders from Commodore Rodgers, and despite frequent calls to the post office, none had arrived. On August 2, 1812, a rare favorable wind blew that allowed Constitution to easily navigate the otherwise difficult passage out of BostonH arbor, and Hull reacted. “I have determined to run out,” he said. “I shall indeed be at a loss how to proceed, and shall take a responsibility on myself, that I should wish to avoid, but to remain here any time longer, I am confident theS hip would be blockaded.”36 on to canada: war and reality 105

so Hull and his 456-man crew departed Boston Harbor and sailed into blue water. He intended to run eastward to the Bank of Newfoundland to attempt to intercept small convoys that were reported soon to sail for England. For two weeks, Constitution cruised across British shipping lanes with some minor successes, capturing two British vessels, which he set on fire. On August 18, just after darkness fell, lookouts suddenly spotted sails very close by, silently moving in the gloom. Constitution gave chase, and after an hour and a half caught, instead of a British ship, the American privateer Decatur. Unaware that he was being chase by an American frigate, the brig’s captain had frantically tried to escape the onrushing Constitution by throwing virtually everything over the side, including twelve of his fourteen guns.37 Decatur had been a most successful privateer and, early on, proved the effectiveness of Madison’s privateer plan. She had, during her present two-month cruise, taken nine prizes. Her captain, William Nicholls, out of Newburyport, while lamenting his having to jettison much of his stores and weapons, still had a fighting spirit and planned to put intoC ape Race on the southeastern tip of Newfoundland to continue his mission without his guns. He would now be forced to ambush prize ships by boarding them. But Nicholls told Captain Hull that he had crossed paths the previous day with a British ship of war to the south. Hull was electrified by the news and within the hour again had Constitution under full sail. When the sun rose the following morning, the lookouts scanned the horizon for the sight of sails, but the sea was empty, and the ship continued on her southerly track. Finally, in the early afternoon came the welcome shout from the masthead that a sail was in sight. Its bearing was to the south and east, and since Constitution had a northerly wind to her back, she was able to close rapidly and, within an hour, was able to see the unknown ship more clearly. But it was still too far distant to identify as British, and she flew no colors.38 By 3:15 Hull could make her to be a large frigate, and ordered the proper sails set for combat maneuvering and to rig the ship for action. He ordered that the ship should be kept away from the enemy, meaning there would be no boarding attempt. This attack would be one of blasting away with broadsides. The gun crews were delighted and gave three cheers and asked their captain to maneuver as close as possible to the enemy ship. As they closed the gap and bore down on the opposing vessel, the targeted ship suddenly hoisted three British flags from three separate masts. 106 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

I t was the frigate Guerriere, and at 5:05, she unleashed her first starboard broadside on Constitution, but all the rounds fell short and splashed harmlessly in the water. But quick as a cat, Guerriere changed directions and wore39 around to fire her opposite (larboard) guns in a thundering broadside. This time two of her shot managed to strike the American ship, but the damage was slight. Now Hull raised his own colors as his adversary continued frantic maneuvering to gain the favorable wind for battle. The whole time, Guerriere continued to fire whatever cannons she could bring to bear against the Americans, but still her shots had little effect. After forty-five minutes of continuous jockeying for position, the two ships finally found themselves on parallel courses, and as they inched closer to each other, the broadside duel began. “At 5 minutes past 6PM being alongside, and within less than Pistol Shot, we commenced a very heavy fire from all of our Guns,”40 said Captain Hull. Those guns were loaded with solid and grape shot. Constitution’s main broadside gun deck contained thirty 24-pound long guns, and her upper deck had twenty-four more 32-pounders and two 18-pounders.41 The lines of guns recoiled from the gun ports as the firing began with thundering explosions and an ensuing blanket of smoke. The reverberation carried across the waves, and Guerriere’s hull shuddered under the impact of the Americans’ iron blows. Constitution’s marines contributed to the deadly fire of the ship’s guns as they poured in rifle and musket fire to also rake the enemy’s deck; and snipers in the rigging unleashed deadly fire into the midst of the British crew and officers. From the deck of the British ship, twenty-eight-year-old Captain James R. Dacres watched the smashing of his ship by Constitution’s guns. “The Enemy placed himself on our larboard Bow, raking us, a few only of our Guns bearing, and his Grape and Riflemen sweeping our Deck.”42 hull watched as the guns from Constitution made a shambles of Guer- riere. “In less than fifteen minutes from the time we got alongside,” said Hull, “his Mizen Mast went by the board, and his Main Yard [was] in the Slings, and the Hull and Sails [were] very much injured.”43 The American ship continued its relentless attack. Hull now turned the fast-moving Constitution hard to port, forcing the British ship to do the same lest the Americans sail across her bow and deliver an even more devastating broadside that would plow the entire length of the ship in a classic maneuver called “capping the ‘T.’” on to canada: war and reality 107

But even with the British ship veering hard away, she could not escape Constitution’s fire. I“ t gave us an opportunity,” Hull said, “of pouring in upon his Larboard Bow, several Broadsides, which made great havoc amongst his men on the forecastle, and did great injury to his forerigging, and sails.”44 The U.S. Marine boarding party stood near the stern as the ships crashed together. Lieutenant William S. Bush stood poised to lead the attack and mounted the curved wooden railing at the stern of Constitution. With his sword drawn in his hand, he shouted back over his shoulder, “Shall I Board Her?” At that very moment a British sniper fired, and Bush “received a fatal ball on the left cheek bone which passed thro’ to the back of his head.” 45 With sword in hand, he fell, dead, to the deck. But there would be no boarding. Captain Hull saw that the British ship was helpless in the water with no masts, and pulled his ship away to safety to repair his minor damages before returning to continue the fight if necessary. But Guerriere was finished. The following day, after removing all the prisoners, Hull ordered that the British ship be set aflame.A party from Constitution went aboard and set fire to the storerooms, and with a fire raging within her hull, the powder magazine ignited and Guerriere blew up.46 Constitution’s victory was spectacular and brought the United States a desperately needed win, but it was not the first American victory over a British fighting ship. That honor went toC aptain David Porter, commanding the frigate USS Essex. Just six days earlier, on August 13, while patrolling in the mid-Atlantic to the southeast of Newfoundland, her lookouts spotted a ship racing toward him under full sails, seemingly wanting to communicate.47 it was midmorning, and at that distance, Captain Porter made the ship to be a large, armed merchantman; and sensing danger, he calmly called his men to quarters, hoping not to give the appearance of a hasty call to arms. When the other ship had closed upon them and was only yards away, she suddenly raised her English ensign; and Porter saw that she was not a merchantman at all, but the British sloop of war HMS Alert. She immediately swerved and maneuvered to deliver a broadside on Porter as he ran up his own colors and pulled away just as the British guns fired. Captain Porter described the surprise fire: “[It] did no more injury than the cheers that accompanied it.”48 Essex separated herself from the other ship by two hundred yards and swung her bow around to attempt a run to engage Alert, and as she swung 108 the war of 1812, conflict and deception around, her guns came to align with the enemy ship, and the eager gunners did not miss the opportunity. They delivered a shattering broadside that severely shook Alert. With noticeable damage, the British ship attempted to break off the action, but Porter was lightening quick, and deployed additional sails to catch her and prepared to deliver the killing volley. The larger Essex quickly closed the gap and bore down on the starboard quarter of her fleeing adversary. She was like a lion closing on its frantically running prey, and the American gun crews hauled on the blocks and tackle to run out the broadside guns. With each heave on the ropes, the guns extended from the hull to their firing positions and waited only for the command to fire. “I . . . was ranging up,” said Porter, “with the intention of not firing until there was a certainty that every shot would take effect, but when we were a short pistol shot on his starboard quarter, and had hoisted our flag bearing the Motto ‘Free trade & Sailor’s rights,’ he avoided the dreadful consequences that our broadside would . . . have produced by prudentially striking his colors.”49 The whole action had taken eight minutes, and that encounter was only the last in a series of previous naval successes by Porter and his crew on their Atlantic patrol. From July 11 through August 13, they had seized or destroyed nine British vessels, captured more than 400 prisoners, and confiscated three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of British property. Porter’s casualties list contained the name of only one man killed. In his letter to Secretary Hamilton, Porter wryly noted that an arrogant claim made by a British officer concerning the American Navy must certainly have contributed to Alert’s demise. That officer had boasted that “The Magic of the British name and Terror of British Thunder” could allow a [British] sloop to engage an American frigate within a pistol shot.50 That officer was obviously wrong.

On October 25, 1812, far across the Atlantic, five hundred miles south of the Azores, two ships’ captains observed each other through their glasses. The British captain, John Carden, commanded the British frigate HMS Macedonian, packing 49 guns. He hoped to see a flag that would identify the mystery ship on the horizon, which was actually the frigate USS United States, commanded by Commodore Stephen Decatur. on to canada: war and reality 109

But United States was not the ordinary frigate. She carried 55 guns, including, in her main battery, 30 long-range 24-pounders, and on her spar deck, one deck below, she had 22 massive 40-pound short-range carronades. Her weight made her much slower, but her armament made her most formidable. The weight of iron, in the form of cannon balls traveling at fifteen hundred feet per second from a single broadside, was 864 pounds, while Macedonian’s broadside weighed 528.51 at half past eight o’clock, Captain Carden raised his colors as the other ship closed the distance to him. He also flashed a British recognition code and waited for a response. He did not have long to wait, as Decatur answered him by hoisting four American ensigns. “I hailed it as the happiest hour of my life when we described the stranger as an enemy,” exclaimed Carden.52 But the American ship unexpectedly turned abruptly away from the British ship and seemed to be withdrawing. Carden hoisted more sail and began to pursue, and with a faster ship, was confident that he would over- take his retreating adversary. He assumed that this must be the American frigate Essex. He planned to keep open water between the two vessels and engage the Americans with his longer-ranged guns. Then the American ship made another puzzling move. She turned again and took a course that crossed the British ship’s bow a mile above her and turned to track on an opposite course that would cause the two warring ships to pass, larboard to larboard. With bow waves flaring from their hulls, the two ships approached and then came even, but they passed at great range from each other. Nevertheless, United States unleashed a surprising broadside, and after some anxious moments on the British deck, telltale splashes, well short of their mark, signaled that Macedonian was out of range. But the near miss also told Captain Carden that his adversary was not Essex, whose guns could hardly have reached across the great distance separating the two ships. Carden immediately ordered to turn his ship and close with whatever American ship this was. But in those moments of British maneuver, the Americans had converted the short round splashes into the proper range, and a second broadside boomed from that great distance and tore into the British ship. Men scattered as masts and sails rained down as so much useless debris, and more balls pierced the deck. The crippled British ship could not respond to the helm to engage the pummeling American frigate. On the gun deck of United States, it must have been sweet revenge for the crew, many of whom had been on the USS Chesapeake five years earlier 110 the war of 1812, conflict and deception when they were unlawfully attacked by Leopard. Decatur, who had taken command of Chesapeake after that affair, had trained those very gunners in their deadly art, and now they rained down a storm of iron on Macedonian. Decatur sailed around the stricken ship with impunity. On board, Cap- tain Carden could only witness the merciless smashing of his ship.

I continued the battle for two hours and ten minutes. . . . [T]he mizzen mast [was] shot away by the board. Top masts shot away by the caps. Main Yard shot in pieces, lower Masts badly wounded, lower Rigging all cut to pieces . . . all the Guns on the Quarter Deck and forecastle disabled but two, and filled with wreckage. . . . Several shots between wind and water, a very great proportion of the Crew killed and wounded, and the Enemy comparatively in good order.53

decatur maneuvered to sail across Macedonian’s bow and rake the ship with the deadliest of broadsides. Seeing that maneuver, which would pul- verize his ship and kill more of his men, Carden struck his colors and surrendered. His casualties were ghastly. From a crew of just over 300, he had 104 casualties—36 dead and 68 wounded. Of the 474 men on Decatur’s ship, 7 had been killed and only 5 wounded.54 decatur said of his gunners, “The precision of their fire could not be surpassed.”55 He had the damaged ship patched up so it would not sink and towed it back to the United States as her most famous prize. On October 6, 1812, the news of the American naval victories in the Atlantic hit London with the same impact that Constitution’s deafening broadsides had smashed into the hull and masts of Guerriere. The government, the press, and the British people recoiled in a state of shock. This all came as a complete surprise. The government was caught off balance. How could this happen? Were not the Americans weak? Had not they sought to end the war just two months after having declared it? The American chargé d’affaires to Great Britain, Jonathan Russell, had tried to convince Lord Castlereagh that an armistice was still possible to avoid the tragedy inherit in such a conflict.W asn’t that a sign of weakness? But it had not been a sign of weakness. It had been a last-ditch effort to stop war. An armistice could have begun in sixty days, the Americans had said, if only Great Britain would simply agree to repeal the Orders in Coun- cil, not blockade American ports, halt the illegal impressments of persons from American vessels, and restore those already impressed.56 Those were the same demands the Americans had made from the beginning. on to canada: war and reality 111

But this last attempt at peace went by the wayside, just as all previous attempts had when absolute British intransigence concerning impressments could not be moved. Castlereagh had dismissed it all, and took the opportunity to chide Russell by repeating the old party line that had been chanted for more than twenty years. He then expressed “surprise . . . that as a condition preliminary even to a suspension of hostilities, the Government of the United States, should have thought fit to demand that the British Government should desist from its ancient and accustomed practice of impressing British seamen from the merchant ships of foreign states.”57 why this “new” proposal should have come as a “surprise” to Castlereagh is inexplicable, since the Americans’ demands on these subjects had not varied one iota since the subject first surfaced during GeorgeW ashington’s administration. Now they were offering an armistice to gain time to come to some sort of agreement even at this late hour. And if the Crown had ever been sincere about seeking peace when it saw that the drift to war had actually become war itself, it would seem logical that this last chance for peace would have been welcomed. But it was not. It was rejected with disdain. Some historians have suggested that the British did not want war. That thesis is founded in the reality of Britain’s dependence upon the United States in the form of massive supplies and materiel to fight its desperate struggle against Napoleon. But when American neutrality translated into supplies not only for Britain but also for France, the British felt like the jilted lover. They understandably saw themselves as the last force standing to combat the absolute tyranny of Bonaparte and felt betrayed by their former countrymen; and it was all too much to bear. So in the act of fighting tyranny, the British resorted to a tyranny of their own and, like the scorned lover, would not budge from that position. It would have been better stated to say that Britain did not wish war. It did not wish for the terrible wages of war that included deprivations, destruction, and death; but Britain eagerly wanted to punish America for its betrayal and embarked on a course that included irreparable insult and damage to the United States that all knew would lead to war. What is that but wanting war? This collective British mind-set toward America was never more clearly demonstrated than by Lord Liverpool, who had succeeded the assassinated Perceval as prime minister. Speaking of America, he said: “Although she might have had wrongs, although she might have had grounds for complaint, although she might have had pressing provocations, yet she ought to have looked to this country as the guardian power to which she was 112 the war of 1812, conflict and deception indebted not only for her comforts, not only for her rank in scale of civiliza- tion, but for her very existence.”58 on September 12, Jonathan Russell prepared to return to the United States, since the option of war had been selected. He would leave one member of the former legation to act as an agent for prisoners of war. But as he made his final preparations to depart, he received an unexpected letter containing one final proposal and authorizing him to present it to the Crown. His luggage, and all of the effects of the American legation, had already preceded him to Plymouth in advance of his scheduled Septem- ber 20 departure, but he hastened to the Foreign Office, only to find that Castlereagh was not there. Returning to his residence, “urged by an unfeigned anxiety to arrest the calamities of war,” he hastily penned the new proposal to Castlereagh informing him of the details, and begged an audience. He concluded by noting “this was the earnest desire of the President to remove every obstacle to an accommodation.”59 The gist of the new proposal was simple. Suspend hostilities while each side appoints commissioners with the power to form a treaty. A treaty would provide for “reciprocal arrangement for the security of their respective seamen from being taken and employed in the service of the other Power,” and the armistice, during these negotiations, would not cease arbitrarily.60 russell wrote that, in offering this proposal, he was to come to a distinct, although not necessarily a formal, understanding concerning the previous subjects of disagreement. He assured Castlereagh that British seamen would not be employed in American ships, and since “few Americans ever enter voluntarily into the British service,” this would certainly favor Britain.61 on September 18, Castlereagh answered that he had presented the proposal before his Royal Highness, who saw no difference between this new proposal and all the others that had preceded it, and he had rejected it. The foreign minister then sarcastically added, “It only appears to aim at executing the same purpose in a more covert, and, therefore, in a more objectionable manner.” He labeled the whole thing “a character in disguise.”62 Britain slammed the final door to avoid the continuance of war. But was Lord Castlereagh the slammer, or did all of his seemingly illogical action come from the highest source, over which he had no control—the Crown itself? The prince regent, George IV, acting in the name of his incapaci- tated father, George III, most likely was passionately driven to punish the on to canada: war and reality 113 fallen-away colonies. If all of his actions were in the name and wishes of his father, then there can be little doubt. But in a less formal moment, Castlereagh hinted that despite his own inclinations, his hands were tied. Before presenting Russell’s final proposal to the prince regent, the foreign minister had delayed for one day formally submitting it. He used that day to invite Russell to his home to discuss matters. Such an invitation was hardly routine, and Russell declared that he was “much surprised” at the delay and the invitation. Upon arriving, he found Castlereagh in conference with his assistant, pondering over files of papers of previous American correspondence. A lengthy conversation followed, mixed with formal language questioning Russell’s authority to negotiate and his credentials, and other matters. But what was all that about on the eve of Russell’s departure? There had to be more on Castlereagh’s mind. He finally got to the heart of the matter and talked about previous ministers who had more authority than Russell and who had eloquently presented to the British government all the arguments concerning the matter of impressments. He noted that it had not been for lack of sincerity that those previous ministers had failed to come to some agreement on impressments. Castlereagh confided, “There were many circumstances . . . to an amicable agreement on this point, had such an arrangement been at all attain- able.”63 It was the damnable question exposed. It had never been possible! The years of British seemingly sincere negotiations on impressments were all a sideshow. All the meetings were never to be fruitful. The negotiations were always to delay and bide for time to never reach a settlement, because to reach a settlement meant to acknowledge the cause of settlement, and that was impressments. “Nothing,” he continued, “can more conclusively demonstrate the inherit difficulty of the matter, and the utter impossibility of finding the expedient which they sought, than all their labors, pursued on that occasion with un- exampled diligence, cordiality, and good faith, should have been in vain.”64 had Russell been privy to earlier secret correspondence between Cas- tlereagh and his Russian minister, Lord William Cathcart, in July 1812, he would have perfectly understood the never-give-in posture of Britain. At that time negotiations had been taking place with the French, and Castle reagh wrote: “The Emperor, if he knows anything of England, must be convinced that no [British] Government dare surrender the right of search 114 the war of 1812, conflict and deception for enemy’s property, or British subjects: the only question is whether it can be regulated . . . as to the mode of conducting the search.”65 months later, during debates in Parliament on the war, Castlereagh again let slip an opinion that also seemed at odds with his proclivity to not only dig in his heels on impressments, but also to not let an opportunity pass to chide and insult American ministers who dared question the practice. Suddenly, in a moment of candor, he said that he “would be the last man in the world to underrate the inconvenience which the Americans sustained in consequence of our assertion of the right to search.”66 he went on to present a masterful study of economics and arithmetic concerning the folly of impressments that would have been the envy of any statistician. Suggesting that records indicated that there were only 800 forcibly retained seamen in the entire 145,000-man British Navy, continuing to hold them made no sense. Even if this number was off by double, it was hard to justify that “for such a paltry consideration of seventeen hundred sailors, His Majesty’s government would needlessly irritate the pride of a neutral nation or violate that justice which was due to one country from another.”67 Presuming that the war would cost England 10 million pounds a year— that translated into a cost for each impressed American sailor of 10,000 pounds a year. A British sailor was paid 18 pounds a year and another 4 pounds for a bounty, so Castlereagh reasoned that if the government even tripled a seaman’s pay, that would still not only be one-tenth of the cost of one year of war, but would serve to bring seamen back in droves to man the British ships.68 was this seeming epiphany his true feelings, or was it only illogical thought to cover his own intransigent posturing that had led to war while he was foreign minister? Or maybe it was a way of trying to explain what no one had expected, the American defeat of a British warship. But that catastrophe had not been just one defeat, but three humiliating naval losses on the high seas, to the upstart American Navy against the Leviathan of the Deep. Those crushing defeats had shattered the psyche of all British subjects, who had been constantly told that the American fleet should easily be swept from the seas and was composed only “of a few fir- built frigates, manned by a handful of bastards and outlaws.”69 That tough talk was now noticeably muted, and the newspapers became publications of lamentations. One paper claimed that no British ship had ever before struck her colors to an American ship, conveniently forgetting on to canada: war and reality 115

John Paul Jones and Bonhomme Richard versus Serapis during the Ameri- can Revolution. Former foreign secretary George Canning dejectedly proclaimed that the loss of Guerriere and Macedonian “produced a sensation in the country scarcely to be equaled by the most violent convulsions of Nature.”70 And ref- erencing Napoleon Bonaparte’s recent defeat in Russia, the London Times reported, “The land spell of the French is broken, and so is our sea-spell.”71 The newspaper Pilot ran a shocking story that the damage was even worse than reported. In announcing the defeat of Macedonian, the paper also revealed: “Loyd’s [Lloyd’s] list contains notices of upward of five hundred British vessels captured in seven months by the Americans. Five hundred merchantmen and three frigates! Can these statements be true; and can the English people hear them unmoved? Anyone who had predicted such a result of an American war this time last year would have been treated as a madman or a traitor.”72 The Pilot further reminded its readers that the British people had been led to presume that the American Navy would have long ago been swept from the seas and her merchant fleet would, by now, be nothing more than a pile of rubble. “Yet down to this moment not a single American frigate has struck her flag. They insult and laugh at our want of enterprise and vigor. They leave their ports when they please, and return to them when it suits their convenience; they traverse the Atlantic; they beset the West India Islands; they advance to the very chops of the Channel; they parade along the coasts of South America; nothing chases. Nothing intercepts, nothing engages them but to yield them triumphs.”73 These stunning announcements and disbelief degenerated into excuses and alibis. Like the schoolyard bully who had been unexpectedly pummeled by the little kid and then cried that he lost because he was sucker-punched, so too did the excuses for the British Navy losses creep into the general conversation. The defeated Captain Dacres proclaimed that it was only good luck that allowed Constitution to defeat him and he wished there could have been a rematch with his same crew. Forget the facts that he would have had to resurrect his dead crew; that his initial offensive maneuver had been skillfully nullified by the expert seamanship ofC aptain Isaac Hull; that he had been out-sailed and brought to battle to Hull’s advantage; that his ship had been hammered into submission from close range by superior gunnery so that its final wreck resembled a floating log; and that his enemy had emerged 116 the war of 1812, conflict and deception from the fight virtually unscathed. Forgetting all that, to Captain Dacres, it was all a matter of Lady Luck having favored his enemy! Other alibis were that the Americans had “handpicked” seamen that gave them an advantage. Historian James Fenimore Cooper scoffed at that suggestion and wrote, “That a nation which practiced impressments, should imagine that another [nation] in which enlistments were voluntary could possess an advantage . . . infer a strong disposition to listen to any means but the right one to account for an unpleasant truth.”74 suddenly, it felt good for the British to declare that all the engagements had been unfair fights pitting superiorA merican ships against lesser Brit- ish ones; that the American frigates were actually “line of battle ships in disguise,” and that their victories were made possible only by deception.75 Were not these defeats undeniable cases of being sucker-punched? A few British voices decried this rationalizing nonsense, but not many, and after the February 1813 debates in Parliament, the feelings of anger against the United States rose to such a pitch that a motion to wage war vigorously against the United States carried without opposition. As historian Henry Adams wrote, “England had avowed an extreme desire to punish America.”76 The British indeed wanted war! Impressment by Royal Navy. Artist unknown, date unknown.

Press gang. Caricature, 1780. Captain James Barron. Artist unknown, 1780. Commodore Stephen Decatur. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. USS Constitution vs. HMS Guerriere. Painting by Anton Otto Fischer, date unknown. Department of Navy, Naval Historical Center.

The End of British Domination. Courtesy Ann Lorio Drez. Tecumseh. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868.

Massacre at Fort Mims, Alabama. Illustration by Alonzo Chappel, circa 1865. President James Madison. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868.

Dolley Madison. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. Captain James Lawrence. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868.

Commodore Oliver Hazard Perry. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. Lord Castlereagh. Illustration from painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence, circa 1814.

Lt. G. R. Gleig. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. Admiral Alexander Cochrane. Painting by William Beechey, date unknown. National Portrait Gallery, London. Admiral George Cockburn (burning Washington). Illustration by John James Hall, 1866. Library of Congress. General Robert Ross. Artist unknown, date unknown. Courtesy the Fuslier Museum, Bury, England. Lord Wellington. Painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence, 1814. Commodore Joshua Barney. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868.

Major George Armistead. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. Burning of President’s House. Illustration by Tom Freeman, date unknown. White House Historical Association. Mary Pickersgill Making the Star Spangled Banner, 1814. Painting by Robert McGill MacKall, 1976. (Commissioned by the Carling Brewing Company, 1976. Courtesy of the Maryland Historical Society, 1976.80.61. Commodore Thomas Macdonough. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868.

Sir Edward Pakenham. Artist unknown artist, date unknown. Courtesy National Army Museum. General Andrew Jackson. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. General John Coffee. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868.

Governor William D. Claiborne. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. Edward Livingston. Engraving by E. Wellmore from a drawing by J. L. Longacre, circa 1923. Library of Congress. Louise D’Avezac Livingston (1781–1860). Painting by Theobold Chartran, 1872. Historic Hudson Valley Organization. Courtesy Historic Hudson Valley, gift of J. Dennis Delafield, (MP.88.219a-b). Jean Lafitte. Illustration by E. H. Suydam, 1950. Commission for Lyle Saxon’s Lafitte the Pirate, 1950.

Fort St. John. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. Villere Plantation House. Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868.

McCarte House (Andrew Jackson’s headquarters). Illustration by Lossing in his Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. 6 The Eagle against the Leviathan

In September 1812, when the successful summer patrols of Commodores Rodgers and Decatur had returned from the Atlantic, Secretary Hamilton ordered that three smaller squadrons should form the blue-water fleet of the U.S. Navy. Rodgers’s flag would be on President, Decatur’s would be on United States, and Commodore William Bainbridge would command his squadron from Constitution. Each squadron consisted of two frigates and a brig, and each squadron sailed independently, “to afford protection to our trade [ships], and to annoy the enemy.”1 while the navy initiated its new strategy, the army continued on a path of no strategy and attempted a far-fetched plan. On September 17, 1812, Presi- dent Madison commissioned William Henry Harrison a brigadier general in command of the Northwest Army. The only plan was to recapture De- troit, but there had been little discussion on how to do it. The new army was 10,000 strong and was to march in three detached columns to somehow magically come together at an assembly area to initiate a coordinated attack. The best way to have moved this army, in its east-to-west movement, would have been by boat, but the British controlled Lake Erie, so an overland march was required. The separation of the three columns, unable to support each other, was a blunder that can be explained only by Harrison’s not understanding the folly of such a maneuver and the catastrophe it invited; or by his being convinced that there was no enemy present to attack him. But either explanation defies logic, since his route took him, in plain view, past the British forces at Fort Malden on the opposite side of the river. Harrison’s letter to War Secretary William Eustis further revealed his lack of understanding of the military tactics and planning necessary to pull off

117 118 the war of 1812, conflict and deception this operation. He wrote confidently that if the weather were dry, he would recapture Detroit before winter. That was his goal, but he seems not to have anticipated what might happen if the weather was not dry or if anything else went wrong; and his ill-thought contingency plan was frightening. What if, like the defeated Napoleon in Russia, his maneuver was slowed down, and winter caught him short of his objective? His expressed thoughts were enough to frighten even the most battle-hardened soldier: “It will be necessary to wait at the rapids until the Miami of the Lakes is sufficiently frozen to bear the army and its baggage.”2 frozen! An army in the field, frozen!A ny commander would shudder at the thought of a difficult resupply from a base two hundred miles distant; no winter clothing; primitive roads turned into a quagmire of sucking mud; and draught animals straining in their yokes, unable to budge hopelessly mired wagons. And even if the army were to survive that ordeal, when those roads finally froze and supplies could once again move, it would be a treacherous path, slick with ice, with starving animals and men reduced to desperately scraping the ground to find something to eat.I n reality, any operation facing the possibility of those obstacles would be doomed to failure unless rescued by a miracle. And the only miracle would be if the British Navy suddenly abandoned the lakes. Heavy rains throughout October brought those worst-case scenarios to fruition, and Harrison’s operation ground to a halt. Only one of his three columns managed to somehow stumble to its objective on the Miami River, one hundred miles south of Detroit, and all they could do was dig in and wait for the rest of the army to arrive. Harrison, realizing his vulnerable position, did his best to communicate with his far-flung command and rode tirelessly back and forth, covering the great distances that separated them. But the boot-sucking mud bogged down everything, and the army could only inch along with great difficulty. On October 22, Harrison wrote to Eustis that it was “absolutely impossible.”3 The reality of his predicament obviously had dawned on him, and he wrote that he would have to wait “until the frost becomes so severe as to enable us to use the rivers and the margin of the Lake for transportation of the baggage and artillery upon the ice.” This last, desperate option was not the plan of a general moving to the attack, but of a general trying to survive. The one column that had managed to get to its rendezvous area on the Miami was much better off, but that was a dubious distinction, since the eagle against the leviathan 119

“better off” meant that they were “always on half rations, except when they had none at all.”4 on December 20, Harrison attempted to rescue the operation, and his own reputation, with yet another half-baked scheme. He ordered the column that was wintering at the Miami River fort to descend the river and prepare “sleds” for a winter attack, across the frozen lake against Fort Malden on the adjacent Upper Canada peninsula. He would attack with a regimental-size force when the rest of the army arrived at the Miami rapids. In January the ground finally froze, and his supplies and artillery began to inch forward. With his 6,300 men, he contemplated the attack on Fort Malden, but that plan presumed that the waters remained frozen, that the enemy was not reinforced, and that the weather was in his favor. Seemingly despite himself and his poor leadership, Harrison’s army had stumbled into a somewhat favorable position. The British fleet could not threaten him, since it was icebound, and the frozen roads now allowed supplies to flow into his base; and unlike General Hull’s previous situation, he had a superior force with no enemy to his front. Everything seemed ready for a January 20 attempt. On January 10, the 1,200 Kentuckians under General James Winchester had prepared the necessary sleds and were dug in waiting for the rest of the army. Their front was exposed to possible attack from across the frozen lake, and so they strained to build obstacles and log defensive positions to offer some protection. But while they were building, two Frenchmen suddenly arrived in their camp and begged the Americans to liberate their settlement at Frenchtown. It was located along the River Raisin, to their north, on the western edge of Lake Erie. A small, 300-man British force controlled the town, and the Frenchmen reported that half of that force was composed of Indians and they were holding thirty-three families hostage. The Frenchmen pleaded with the Americans, who well understood the treachery of the Indians, and said that if they attacked, they could win, and that would be a terrible blow, militarily and psychologically, to the British occupying this part of the Michigan territory. For those long-suffering Kentuckians who had borne the brunt of the weather’s force for months and who had struggled to survive from one day to the next, this promise of action against the damnable enemy excited The Battle of the River Raisin. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. the eagle against the leviathan 121 them. On January 16, Winchester huddled his officers together and they unanimously agreed to attack. The following day, 660 of them began the march to the north, toward the River Raisin and Frenchtown. Their feet crunched along the ice of the western shore of Lake Erie, and in the early afternoon of January 18, they reached that river’s southern bank. Moving through the houses of the town, they formed up in a line for battle. On the opposite bank was the 300- man enemy force, but they could count only 50 British soldiers—the rest were Indians. The British opened fire with a small cannon and theA mericans answered, and for several hours they blazed away at each other until the British force was forced to back off, but not before they had wounded or killed 60 of the Americans. Colonel William Lewis, who commanded this small American force, took possession of the town and reported his success back to Win- chester, who moved immediately to reinforce with an additional 250 men. On January 20, Winchester himself moved to the battle site and found the Kentuckians arrayed in a defensive box behind a picket fence on the enemy’s side of the river, in a vulnerable position with their backs to the water. He could not withdraw them, since 55 wounded men were within those lines. The British, having rushed reinforcements to the scene, formed for a counterattack, and before dawn on the 22nd advanced with 1,200 men— half Indians. Six hundred engaged the forward American positions. But the dug-in Americans made them pay for every inch of ground that they advanced upon their barricade. The American sharpshooters cut down 180 enemy in the first hour of fighting. But the superior British got the upper hand and were able to turn part of the American flank, and those defenders broke in an attempt to re-cross the freezing river and escape the hotly pursuing Indians. As they fell back in disorder, 100 men fell in the snow before the superior attack, and the pursuing Indians pounced on them, killed the wounded, and scalped them all. Winchester surrendered his force, but still on the north shore were 400 Kentuckians who had not broken and run and who still held a desperate position behind that fence. They were in a hopeless position, surrounded by 1,000 enemy. They had few options other than surrender, but surrendering to the British soldiers and officers offered the only hope of escaping the Indian savagery. 122 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

They did, and when they were finally marched into the British lines, they looked like the dregs of humanity. Their faces were gaunt, their eyes dark and sunken into sockets on faces thinned and hardened over the months of brutal exposure to weather and winter. Still they had fought with great conviction and valor. British Major John Richardson described them:

The appearance of the Americans captured at Frenchtown was miserable to the last degree. They had the air of men to whom cleanliness was a virtue unknown, and their squalid bodies were covered with habiliments [clothing] that had evidently undergone every change of season, and were arrived at the last stage of repair. It has already been remarked that it was the depth of winter; but scarcely an individual was in possession of a great coat or cloak, and few of them wore garments of wool of any description. They still retained their summer dress, consisting of stuff of various colors, shaped into frocks, and descending to the knees; their trousers were of the same material. They were covered in slouched hats, worn bare by constant use, beneath which their long hair fell matted and uncombed over their cheeks; and these, together with the dirty blankets wrapped around their loins to protect them against the inclemency of the season, and fastened by large leathern belts, into which were thrust axes and knives of enormous length, gave them an air of wilderness and savageness. . . . The only distinction between the garb of an officer and that of a soldier was, that the one, in addition to his sword, carried a short rifle instead of a long one, while a dagger, often curiously worked and of some value, supplied the place of the knife.5

despite this British victory at the River Raisin, the British colonel Henry Proctor had no more stomach for battle and in great haste departed the battlefield. But in his leaving, he also abandoned the 68 wounded Ameri- cans who had surrendered into his care as prisoners. He left them now to the designs of the Indians, who lost no time in tomahawking and scalping them. Some they even burned alive. American outrage knew no bounds, and the cry for vengeance became a new battle cry, “Remember the Raisin.” General Winchester’s defeat brought about the end of General Harrison’s winter campaign. The ineptitude of the whole campaign, and especially General Winchester’s foolhardy diversion of his meager force, was perfectly described by Major E. D. Wood. An early graduate of West Point, Wood was an officer in an adjacent wing ofH arrison’s army and had no patience for inept officers or their concocted tactics that could bring about such a debacle. He wrote: “Winchester was destitute of every means of supporting the eagle against the leviathan 123 his corps long at the river Raisin; [he] was in the very jaws of the enemy, and beyond the reach of succor. He who fights with such a flimsy pretension to victory will always be beaten, and eternally ought to be.”6 major Wood perhaps made the only positive contribution to the entire winter debacle. He had built Fort Meigs along the Miami, and had built it to withstand a siege. When the British finally did attack, they could not overwhelm Fort Meigs. But it was indeed the only bright spot, because a relief column heading for the fort was terribly mauled, and that action also ended with yet another Indian massacre of helpless prisoners.7

In November 1812, despite an unrelenting antiwar campaign waged by the New England federalists, President James Madison had been reelected for a second term. Strengthened by this political victory, he shook up his cabinet and appointed a new secretary of the navy, William Jones, who had a demonstrated knowledge of ships and men. When Harrison’s 1813 land offensive against the western edges of Up- per Canada failed, the idea of a naval-supported land attack against Fort Malden gained impetus. The new war secretary was quick to realize the advantages of such an offensive, and he stopped any further unsupported ground offensives by General Harrison.8 in late March, Commander Oliver Hazard Perry, an officer previously serving with the navy’s gunboats, had been detached to the naval construction facility in a remote location on Lake Erie called Presque Isle, which was nestled in a setting of trees and water. The remoteness of this site masked its vital construction mission, and as Perry arrived, six vessels were already in various stages of completion. The sound of carpenters’ tools and shipwrights echoed in the wilderness, and the entire construction site was protected on three sides by land. The only entrance to this landlocked haven was across a sandbar that had not enough water to allow deep-draught vessels to enter. But it was deep enough for gunboats to egress upon their completion. These ships were on a crash schedule to be launched and ready for action on the lakes by June—less than three months away. A second naval shipbuilding facility was along the southern end of the Niagara River at Black Rock, but even when ships were completed there, the British at Fort Erie and British gunboats blocked them from getting onto the lake.9 124 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

In February, the new war secretary, John Armstrong, proposed an offensive to completely dominate the St. Lawrence River and Lakes Erie and Ontario by attacking the vital strongpoint at Kingston. The St. Lawrence Seaway was the indispensable artery for British supply from Halifax, and any interdiction of that supply line would be fatal to the British ability to support its army in the north.10 But the American military brain trust (General Dearborn and Admiral Isaac Chauncey) balked at this obvious strategy against Kingston and instead approved a less ambitious one that would, even if successful, still leave the British supply line open. General Dearborn wrote to Armstrong, “To take or destroy the armed vessels at York, will give us complete command of the Lake.”11 That was not quite true. The Americans would indeed have a presence on Lake Ontario, but taking York did not give them command of the lake or prevent the British from challenging their presence there, whereas controlling the St. Lawrence would have done so. On April 27, Dearborn attacked York and, in a sharp fight, seized the town, burned the ships under construction, and captured another ship. Three hundred prisoners were taken, stores captured or destroyed, and some public buildings burned by the rampaging Americans. It was, however, a costly victory for the Americans when a powder magazine exploded, causing many of the 320 casualties. Still, it was a victory for the American army— the first after a long history of bitter defeats. A month later, on May 23, the day before the proposed launching of the newly constructed American boats at Black Rock, Master Commandant Oliver Perry joined his superior Admiral Chauncey, the newly appointed commander on Lakes Erie and Ontario, to participate in the second phase of the offensive—an attack on the British stronghold at Fort George, on the western bank of the Niagara River. The fort guarded the mouth of the river where it emptied into Lake Ontario;12 on the opposite, eastern bank, stood the American Fort Niagara. The Americans planned to attack and capture Fort George and then to launch a follow-up attack to seize Fort Erie to the south. Capturing both forts would place the Niagara River in American hands and allow the bottled-up ships to finally sail into Lake Erie. The British commander at Fort George, General John Vincent, had 1,400 men and deployed most of them for an expected frontal assault by the eagle against the leviathan 125

New York and Upper Canada (Niagara River battleground). Courtesy U.S. Army Center of Military History.

the Americans, who he thought would cross the river under the protection of the guns of Fort Niagara. But the Americans had planned a daring, flanking, amphibious assault to swing into Lake Ontario and assault Fort George from that northern quarter. General Dearborn, benefiting from the detailed tactics laid out by Gen- eral Winfield Scott and Master Commander Oliver Perry, planned to attack with 4,000 men, landing in four amphibious waves on the shore of Lake Ontario. That force would then move rapidly overland before Vincent could shift his forces to confront the surprise assault. Perry had surveyed the beach landing sites and conducted depth soundings for maximum advantage, and on May 27, in an early morning fog along a two-mile front, one hundred landing craft, each carrying 50 to 60 men, stormed ashore.13 They overwhelmed a small British outpost on the Lake Ontario beach and pushed on to the fort. The surprised British were forced to abandon the fort and fall back, and then to further retreat from the area when the continuing American attack threatened to encircle them. 126 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

with Fort George in American hands, additional British forces positioned to the south along the Niagara River and those at Fort Erie were outflanked and forced to abandon their untenable positions. This singular, dramatic American victory during the entire 1812–13 land campaigns seemed heaven-sent. All of the bungling during the earlier attacks from the beginning of the war was now mitigated by this one master stroke of strategy and tactics. Weeks later, a British counterattack against the American army forced it to abandon its newly won position at Fort George, but for now, the Ameri- cans controlled the Niagara River, and with that control, they unlocked the entrances into Lakes Erie and Ontario. Perry now acted to move his previously bottled-up fleet at Black Rock. The ships would have to be dragged upstream against the current that fed Niagara Falls to gain entrance into Lake Erie. With Herculean effort, Perry’s men strained to move his five newly constructed ships, Caledonia, Somer, Trippe, Ohio, and Amelia, toward the lake. Men and oxen pulled and towed against the swift current, sometimes making no headway. Ropes broke and animals stumbled, but at last they cleared the final rapids, gained the deep waters of Lake Erie, and sailed off to join the other newly constructed ships from Presque Isle.

In June 1812, Napoleon’s Grand Army of a half million men invaded Rus- sia and steadily marched, undaunted, across the Russian steppes until it reached Moscow in September. But despite Napoleon’s best efforts to bring the Russian Army into a decisive battle, he could not, and in October he was forced to begin a retreat lest he be caught by the terrible Russian winter. By December the Grand Army was defeated and virtually annihilated, and Britain began to see a light at the end of the tunnel. She could begin to deal with her war in America. That improved situation would mean more troops and ships designated to fight theA mericans.

Captain James Lawrence had commanded the U.S. sloop of war Hornet, and on February 24, 1813, engaged HMS Peacock in the waters off northern South America. His excellent sailing and his extraordinary gunners the eagle against the leviathan 127 made short work of Peacock, continuing the American mastery over British fighting ships. In fifteen minutes the battle was over, and Peacock sank to the bottom. The victorious Lawrence sailed back to the United States with British prisoners aboard and arrived off Martha’s Vineyard on March 24. Lawrence’s reward was a posting as commandant of the New York Navy Yard, and he was a national hero. Americans were delighted to read newspapers detailing the events of these shocking naval victories, and a Halifax newspaper paid the Americans an unintended compliment: “It will not do for our vessels to fight them single-handed. TheA mericans are a dead nip.”14 The American newspapers headlined Lawrence’s every word and action, and an engraver published a cartoon showing the British bull with the tail of a peacock being stung in the neck by an immense hornet crying out “Free Trade and Sailor’s Rights!”15 while Lawrence bathed in the glow of his hero’s welcome, the captain of the USS Chesapeake, Samuel Evans, found his naval career abruptly ended when he was discharged from his command because of the loss of sight in one eye and failing sight in the other. The newly promoted Captain Lawrence was the obvious choice to take command of Chesapeake, but he was hesitant to do so because of the jinxed reputation of the ship and its effect on the superstitious nature of seamen. He feared this stigma would affect their confidence.16 But it was not only superstition that worried Lawrence. The crew was grumbling to the point of suggesting mutiny because of a dispute over prize money that had not been paid. Many men were brand new, including British and Portuguese mercenaries filling the ranks of the qualified seamen who had opted for duty as privateers.17 These new men were hardly trained, especially in the face of a seasoned enemy. Still, Chesapeake was a powerfully armed ship, and seamanship would certainly improve under his command and training. So Lawrence boarded Chesapeake in late May while the ship was in Boston, repairing and refitting, and while there, he saw the signs of a more intense British blockade. The British blockade of the New England harbors had been loose and sporadic since New Englanders had shown sympathy to the British; but as the war wore on, and privateers streamed from those ports to inflict great loss on British merchant vessels, the British tactics changed. Now, a new British frigate appeared off the Boston Light. On June 1, Captain Lawrence wrote to Secretary Jones, “I am now getting under weigh. . . . An English frigate is now in sight from my deck. I have 128 the war of 1812, conflict and deception sent a pilot boat out to reconnoiter, and should she be alone I am in hopes to give a good account of her before night. My crew appear to be in fine spirits, and, I trust, will do their duty.”18 That English frigate, HMS Shannon, was not alone. But she may as well have been, even though HMS Tenedos stood close by. In an effort to lure Lawrence and Chesapeake out of the harbor for a one-on-one showdown, British Captain Philip Broke had written a detailed letter throwing down the gauntlet to meet Shannon “ship to ship, to try the fortunes of our respective flags.”19 he was proposing a duel, and listed all the reasons for this duel and detailed the size and strength of his ship. He suggested a dueling ground within three hundred miles of Boston, wherever Lawrence might choose, or even a face-to-face clandestine meeting with Lawrence, and promising total secrecy concerning this challenge, should Lawrence desire it.20 It was the stuff of knights of old, meeting on the field of honor or fighting at a contested bridge to see who would prevail. Broke wrote, “My proposals are highly advantageous to you, as you cannot proceed to Sea, singly, in Chesapeake, without imminent risque of being crushed by the superior force of the numerous British squadrons.”21 He sent this challenging letter to Salem via a paroled American prisoner for delivery to Lawrence, but before it ever reached Boston, Lawrence had hoisted his sails and pushed out to meet the British warship, tauntingly flying her colors in plain view. He knew nothing of the proposed duel. As he sailed at noon, Captain Lawrence addressed his crew to try to allay their fears about the missing money. He spoke to them of the matter at hand and raised their spirits. In this air of camaraderie, he raised his own colors prominently on three masts and then hoisted a battle flag in the foremost quarter of the ship. That large, white banner unfurled in the breeze to display the slogan “free trade and sailors’ rights.” 22 Chesapeake pressed on under a favorable southwest wind and had more sails deployed than her adversary; and she quickly bore down on Shan- non, who suddenly found herself oriented to the southeast and positioned unfavorably into the wind. As the American ship approached, she was suddenly closing the distance at considerable speed, and “her movements were watched on board the Shannon with great anxiety, because it was uncertain on which side she was about to close upon her antagonist, or whether she might not commence the action on her quarter.”23 the eagle against the leviathan 129

commencing action on her quarter meant that for a fleeting moment, Shannon was at the mercy of the approaching American ship. With the wind to her face, she had no ability for quick maneuvering, and if Chesa- peake, under full steering, should slightly turn to cross her stern, the Ameri- can guns would rake her stern quarter with a killing broadside that might end the battle before it started. But for whatever reason, Lawrence missed that golden opportunity and did not cross Shannon’s stern. Just before 6:00 p.m., he laid his ship on the larboard side within a “pistol shot” (fifty yards) of Shannon, and they exchanged devastating broadsides. Lieutenant George Budd, third in command on board Chesapeake, said, “[It] damaged our rigging, killed among others, Mr. White . . . and wounded Captain Lawrence.”24 he was carried below deck, ordering, “Don’t give up the ship.” The ships slammed together, entangling themselves in their masts and riggings, and locked together. The broadsides continued at point-blank range for another twelve minutes, with Shannon’s experienced gunners pummeling Chesapeake with twice as many shots.25 British topmen, looking down on the battle from the rigging, reported “that the hammocks, splinters, and wrecks of all kinds driven across the deck formed a complete cloud.”26 a British boarding party surged onto the American ship, and one of the seamen rushed below to the gun deck to inform Lieutenant George Budd, who was now in charge, since every other officer had been struck down. “I immediately called [our] boarders away and proceeded to the Spar deck where I found that the enemy had . . . gained possession of our quarter deck.” Budd attempted to maneuver his ship to separate from Shannon, but to no avail, as they were tightly locked, and he joined in the hand-to-hand fighting on deck until he himself was wounded and thrown down to the gun deck. “I again made an effort to collect the boarders,” he said, “but in the meantime, the enemy had gained complete possession of the ship.27 captain Broke had led the boarding party, and in fifteen minutes from the first broadside, the battle was over. Broke himself was badly wounded from a saber slash, and Lawrence lay below deck mortally wounded. Ca- sualties from the fifteen-minute brawl were enormous. Chesapeake had 148 out of her crew of 379—61 were killed. Shannon suffered less with 33 killed and 50 wounded.28 The history of Chesapeake ended in her being taken as a prize to Halifax. The heroic Captain Lawrence had not been able to avenge the surprise 130 the war of 1812, conflict and deception attack of 1807 that led eventually to the War of 1812. Months later, an American ship was named in his honor.

On June 19, Oliver Perry wrote Secretary Jones concerning the latest intelligence on the activities of the British fleet, I“ t appears that Captain Barclay with his men have arrived and are now on board their fleet.”29 in the protected anchorage at Presque Isle, the newly constructed Amer- ican ships were soon ready to emerge from the construction site. But the shallow water at the entrance of the harbor, less than seven feet, that had protected them from entrance by the enemy now became an obstacle to their exit into the deeper water. To float them across the bar, the American shipbuilders would have to remove all their guns and heavy equipment, leaving them defenseless, should there be an attack; and British vessels cruised the lake waiting for just such a moment. As long as they were there, Perry could not attempt to maneuver his ships across the bar, and Captain Barclay patrolled the waters to make sure he didn’t try. Barclay knew that Perry would also need the calmest of waters to try such a move, and that was an uncommon oc- currence on the windy lake.30 on August 2, the blockading British ship suddenly disappeared, and with its disappearance, the lake, as if on cue, became calm. Perry knew this was his great opportunity and employed his “camels” to attempt to lift the ships over the shallows. Two scows were positioned on either side of the ship and submerged, and massive timbers were run through the forward and aft ports like giant litter poles on a sedan chair, and when the scows were pumped out, they rose to contact the timbers and lifted the ship to a shallower draught.31 With both navies on the lake, the stage was set for a dramatic showdown, with the victor seizing the initiative of the war. Captain Barclay well understood the implications of the looming battle. “Indeed the whole line under General Proctor must lay open to the Enemy, in the event of their being able to make his Majesty’s Squadron retire,” he said.32 The two opposing armies awaited the outcome. The navy that would control the lake would throw the opposing army into disarray. American general Harrison had no chance of recapturing Detroit without naval superiority, and British general Proctor’s continued operations from Fort the eagle against the leviathan 131

M alden depended upon British naval superiority to keep his forces supplied and viable.33 oliver Perry strained at the leash. On August 4, he wrote with great enthusiasm to navy secretary Jones from his flagship the USS Lawrence: “I have succeeded after almost incredible labour and fatigue to the men, in getting all the vessels I have been able to man, over the bar.”34 He cautioned that they were not well manned with either officers or men, but had distributed all among the various ships as best he could. But Perry was a leader of action, and instead of allowing those shortages to lead to inaction, he recognized the situation and the peril of the army under Harrison and “the whole of the western country.” He was committed to attack and to not hesitate. “I have determined to proceed on Service—My Government, should I be unsuccessful, I trust will justly appreciate the motives which have governed me, in this determination. . . . The enemy has been in sight all day and are now about four leagues [12 miles] from us—We shall sail in pursuit of them, at three tomorrow morning.”35 Perry did sail after the British fleet with his squadron only half manned, but the British squadron beat a hasty retreat from him. They too suffered from a lack of soldiers and seamen, and their naval force was inferior to Perry’s. Perry’s eleven-ship squadron carried fifty-eight guns, but they were hardly evenly distributed. Forty of the guns were contained in the two ships Lawrence and Niagara. Four of his ships had only one gun.36 Perry’s squadron left Erie and Presque Isle on August 12 and made the three-day sail to a harbor called Put in Bay, surrounded by protecting islands. On August 19, General William Henry Harrison boarded Perry’s flagship, Lawrence, for a council of war and a plan that might quarter the army at the bay for further transportation to attack the British at Fort Malden.37 Three weeks later, on September 9, Perry was determined to attack the British squadron in its anchorage near Malden if it did not come out to fight, and he called his captains together that evening to lay out his plan. He left nothing to confusion, giving each commander his orders in writing. Each vessel was to seek out and attack a designated British ship. The largest American ships, Lawrence and Niagara, were matched against the British Detroit and Queen Charlotte, and the smaller ships were likewise assigned. When the council broke up, it was almost midnight, and Perry concluded by breaking out his battle flag, which had been specially designed for this 132 the war of 1812, conflict and deception upcoming battle on Lake Erie. It was a square blue field with large white letters emblazoned on it forming the famous last words of Captain Law- rence of the ill-fated frigate Chesapeake: “don’t give up the ship.” 38 Perry exclaimed, “When this flag shall be hoisted on the main-royal masthead, it shall be your signal for going into action!”39 The British squadron carried a variety of 70 guns on six ships but had the advantage of 35 long guns to Perry’s 15. Perry’s tactics demanded action at close quarters, since he would be outgunned in a long-range duel. Just after 10:00 a.m., Perry hoisted his blue battle flag, and with Ni- agara leading his force and the wind to his back, he maneuvered to close with the British fleet sailing on a parallel line. Their largest ship, Detroit, led their column. The American ships closed on a gentle angle, and when they came within range, the battle began. The British long guns from De- troit first struck Perry’sLawrence, and quickly a second British ship, Queen Charlotte, moved just astern of Detroit and joined in the broadsiding of Perry’s flagship. Historian Benson Lossing wrote, “His vessel was terribly shattered. Her rigging was nearly all shot away; her sails were torn into shreds; her spars were battered into splinters; her guns were dismounted. . . . She lay upon the waters almost a helpless wreck.”40 Her 103-man crew had suffered 22 killed and 61 wounded in the two-hour bombardment from the two British ships. The decks were soaked in blood. Seeing that his ship was no longer capable of fighting, Perry called for his boat to be lowered and, in midst of the ongoing battle, transferred himself and his battle flag to Niagara. The daring and courage of Perry was electric. He immediately took command, set the proper sails, ran up his blue pennant, and moved to bear down on the enemy ships, now sailing a half mile from him. In a classic naval move, like Lord Nelson at Trafalgar, Perry broke the British line and capped the British “T.” He guided his squadron through the gap in the line, and as each American ship passed through that gap, it fired rippling broadsides right and left into the line of British ships, down their long axes, with total devastation. Ball, chain, and grape shot ripped away masts, rigging, and human limbs, and double-shot guns smashed gaping holes into British hulls. Eight minutes after the Americans crashed through their line, the British ships struck their colors. The battle was over, and the Americans controlled Lake Erie. Never before had an entire British squadron been the eagle against the leviathan 133 captured. Perry dispatched his handwritten letter to General Harrison proclaiming victory: “We have met the enemy and they are ours.”41 The victory on Lake Erie left the British Army under General Proctor out on a limb. There would be no chance of resupply, and Proctor was forced to retreat from his position, which had resisted all American attempts since General Hull’s disastrous campaign at the beginning of the war. On Sep- tember 27, the Americans retook Detroit without a shot being fired, and Harrison and Perry continued their impeccable coordination to launch an attack on the retreating enemy. They conducted an amphibious operation, landing troops to attack Fort Malden, but the British had also evacuated that stronghold.42 They finally came to ground onO ctober 5 in a decisive battle along the banks of the Thames River, about seventy miles east of Fort Malden. Proc- tor’s force deployed with the river anchoring its left flank and an artillery piece that came from Detroit to sweep the dirt road next to the river. His right flank was anchored in a swamp with close to 1,000I ndians covering that flank while the British forces covered the open ground next to the road. The Americans had no chance to turn his flank.

The Battle of the Thames. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. 134 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

General Harrison planned a standard infantry attack on the British line, but the Kentucky cavalry was nearby, and its commander, Richard M. Johnson, requested permission to lead a regimental charge against the enemy line. Harrison approved the plan and brought up the Kentucky cavalrymen in front of his infantry, and Johnson arrayed them in four columns of 60 men each, giving command of that force to his brother, James Johnson. With the other half of the mounted force, he planned to attack the Indians on the left. Harrison positioned himself with Commodore Perry in the front lines of infantry to “direct” the cavalry attack, although he was more a spectator than a director.

I therefore determined to refuse my left to the Indians and to break the Brit- ish lines at once by a charge of the Mounted Infantry [said Harrison]. The American backwoodsman ride better in the woods than any other people. A musket or rifle is no impediment to them. The army had moved . . . but a short distance, when the mounted Men received the fire of the British line and were ordered to charge—the horses in the front of the column recoiled from the fire, another [volley] was given by the enemy and our Column at length getting into motion, broke through the enemy with irresistible force; in one minute, the contest in front was over.43

The charge was a blur of racing horses, flying hooves, flashing steel, and soldiers firing from their saddles.I t smashed through the British line, and, having gained the enemy’s rear, the horsemen wheeled their mounts around, dismounted, and poured a withering fire into the backs of the confused defenders, forcing an immediate surrender. Only three Americans were wounded in the charge. The Indians on the right launched a fierce attack on the other half of the charging American cavalrymen, forcing them to dismount and fight as infantry, and after a bitterly contested melee, with some help from the American infantry, Johnson’s Kentuckians hurled the Indians back. Among the Indians killed was Tecumseh himself, and the Battle of the Thames was over. The Americans held the field, and the northwest coalition of the British Army and the Indians was forever broken. The war in the northwest had always been a war between the Americans and the Indians, with the British only in command. Fewer than 500 regular British soldiers had ever crossed the Detroit River, but the Americans had the eagle against the leviathan 135 fielded more than 20,000 of their own to fight and expel the combined British force.44 The British tactic of arousing and arming the Indians to fight against the Americans was nothing new. Napoleon Bonaparte originally recognized that asset early on and, in 1803, was preparing to employ just such a tactic in his attempt to attack and seize New Orleans and control the Mississippi River. He had confided to Talleyrand that theI ndians and their war-making abilities could be valuable allies and had to be exploited.

Their savage ignorance, their undisciplined passions, their restless and warlike habits, their notions of ancient rights, make them the fittest tools imaginable for disturbing the states. . . . We shall find in the Indian tribes an army . . . armed and impelled with far less trouble and expense than an equal number of our own troops. We shall find a terrible militia, infinitely more destructive while scattered through the hostile settlements than an equal force of our own. We shall findin the bowels of the states . . . a mischief that only wants the touch of a well-directed spark to involve in its explosion the utter ruin of half their nation.45

The American army and navy team seemed to be in control for the first time, but it was not to last. Oliver Perry requested reassignment and left the scene of his great victory, to be replaced by Master Commandant Jesse D. Elliot, who many thought had not done his duty as captain of theUSS Niagara in the Battle of Lake Erie and had been squeamish in combat. He was thought by many to have lain back, allowing the British to mass two ships against Perry on Lawrence, and thereby had jeopardized the entire operation; and only Perry’s extraordinary valor in taking command of Niagara had saved the day. He would eventually lose control of all that had been gained in the summer, and as winter set in, the British re-captured the almost undefended Fort George and then crossed the river to take Fort Niagara. In an enormous government snafu, the soldiers were not paid and their service con- tracts expired, and without pay and extensions, they simply went home, opening the door for the British Army to come back. The year ended with the British again in control of the Niagara frontier. 46 Its navy’s original presence of 83 ships in western waters when the war began had been increased to 129 in one year’s time.47 7 Finally a General, or Two

Three weeks after Oliver Perry’s remarkable victory on Lake Erie, while the whole country around New York was still in a state of jubilation, grim riders on horseback arrived bearing horrific news of anI ndian attack in Alabama. Spurred on by arms and a promise of five dollars a scalp from the British agent in Pensacola,1 bloodthirsty Creek Indians massed, attacked, and mas- sacred an entire American community living in the protection of the newly constructed Fort Mims, just north of Mobile in Alabama. The savageries of the attack even exceeded the horror of the Indian massacre at Fort Dearborn. On August 30, at noon, within the presumably safe confines of Fort Mims, the drum had just called the soldiers to dinner, as the rest of the 553 settlers went about their activities on that hot summer day. “Some . . . were playing cards; the girls and young men were dancing, while a hundred thoughtless and happy children sported from door to door, and from tent to tent.”2 That drum call for dinner also signaled one thousand painted and liberally armed Creek warriors to rise up from their hiding place in a defile of a ravine just four hundred yards from the open gate of Fort Mims. They raced across the open ground, led by their black-faced prophets, and poured through the gate, avoiding a panicked attempt by a soldier to close it. Their attack and accompanying butchery lasted five hours. Every house was set aflame, and the terrified men, women, and children who had huddled in a final fortified house were now exposed to the weapons of the attackers. “The bastion was broken down, the helpless inmates were butchered in the quickest manner, and blood and brains bespattered the whole earth. The children were seized by the legs and killed by beating their heads against the stockading. The women were scalped, and those

136 finally a general, or two 137 who were pregnant were opened, while they were alive, and the embryo infants let out of the womb.”3 only a few people escaped alive to tell the story, but all who did described the same scene of horror. By September 9, the Indians had also launched attacks on Forts Sinquefield, Glass, andL avier, forcing the settlers to evacuate and move to larger forts for more protection. Each attack was accompanied by the same barbarism exhibited at Fort Mims. There was no doubt that this Indian offensive was supported by the British. Offshore, a British schooner was constantly at hand just off the Mobile coast to offer whatever assistance she could provide, and carried a large supply of ammunition for the British allies. The Spanish governor of Pensacola sent warm congratulations to the Indian leaders for their successes, especially at Fort Mims, and also promised Spain’s continued aid. He cautioned them to not burn Mobile, since that was the property of the king of Spain and they intended to retake it. The English, with their Indian and Spanish allies, were conducting unrelenting war against America to wrest away control and possession of the southern territory.4 News of the horrific attack on Fort Mims reached Andrew Jackson in September; he was confined to his bed in Nashville recovering from a serious gunshot wound that he had sustained in a street fight against an old adversary on a matter of insult and honor. But even though he was flat on his back, he issued an order for his Tennessee militia to form and gather for an immediate operation.5 in 1812, soon after war’s declaration, Jackson had written the secretary of war that he would “rejoice at the opportunity of placing the American eagle on the ramparts of Mobile, Pensacola, and Fort St. Augustine.”6 Hav- ing offered his services and those of his militia to the war effort, he was greatly disappointed when an initial operation was aborted before he could strike a blow against the enemy. To understand the persona of Andrew Jackson, no better description can be offered than one from renowned Jacksonian scholar Robert Remini:

Andrew Jackson participated in the American Revolution as a messenger boy for Colonel William R. Davie. Only thirteen at the time, he was captured by British soldiers, mutilated on the wrist and forehead, imprisoned at Camden, South Carolina where he contracted small pox, but was later released in a prisoner exchange arranged by his mother. His entire immediate family died in the Revolution: first his older brother, then his mother. His hatred for the British lasted for the remainder of his life.7 138 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Jackson had received a hint of a proposed offensive against the Creek Indians in July 1813, one month before the Fort Mims massacre, while he was at Nashville. He wrote to Governor William Blount with some ideas on the subject, since he perceived that he was to be part of this expedition. He noted that his Tennessee volunteers “stand ready at the call of their country, to march at a moment’s warning.”8 he warned the governor that an insufficient force deployed for this mission could be disastrous, as the Indians could be expected to put aside any differences and unite in opposition. “The efficient way to economize,” he said, “is to employ sufficient force to ensure success, and crush all opposition in that quarter at one blow.” He calculated that 5,000 Tennessee militia, reinforced by a regular U.S. Army regiment, and a brigade of militia from Georgia would be “amply sufficient to drive the Indians and their allies into the ocean.” He added, “and if the Spaniards give our enemies asylum in Pensacola, would be sufficient to take possession of that place.”9 But by mid-October, Jackson and his insufficient 2,500-man army was prepared for combat and gathered on the banks of the Tennessee River for the beginning of an offensive that was to attempt to attack the Creek Indian fortress, 150 miles to the south, named the Hickory Ground. It was described as “the focus of Indian fanaticism.”10 This bastion was perfectly suited for defense, nestled on the land between the forks of the Coosa and Tallapoosa Rivers. These waters served as natural moats as they joined to become the Alabama River; they protected the Hickory Ground on three sides by water that any invading army would be forced to cross. Tecumseh had first stimulated this fanaticism in 1811 when he visited the Creeks to deliver a fiery oration to incite the warriors to war. L“ et the white man perish. . . . They must be driven back,” he cried. “Back to the great waters whose accursed waves brought them to our shores! Burn their dwell- ings—destroy their stock—slay their wives and children, that the very breed may perish. War now! War always! War on the living! War on the dead!”11 in 1813 Spain stood ready to furnish arms and materiel to the Indians in any war with the United States, and the British agent in Pensacola was paying a reward for American scalps. In August, a Creek Indian party was reported seen with one hundred horse loads of ammunition provided by the Spaniards in Pensacola. Benjamin Hawkins, the American agent for Indian affairs, reported, “The destruction of every American is the song of the day.”12 finally a general, or two 139

in September there was an even more distressing letter from Hawkins, whose friendly Indians and spies reported on the hostile Creek strategy. On the 26th, he wrote to the secretary of war that there was a plan under foot that all the hostile tribes would unite in a great terror attack on several friendly Indian villages. They boasted of their attack on Fort Mims, and their plan included an attempt to kidnap and kill Agent Hawkins himself; and while they created this turmoil, the British were to attack New Orleans, Mobile, and probably Savannah.13 Jackson’s objective was to smash his way to Mobile, leaving in his wake a shattered wing of the Anglo-Indian alliance. The Indian threat as an ally to future foreign invaders would be forever eliminated. He moved his army twenty miles to the south and established a camp he called Fort Deposit on the Tennessee River where it made its most southerly run. It would be his vital supply point to sustain his offensive operation. But low water nullified that supply line, and in lateO ctober Jackson was forced to either hunker down or launch his offensive with an army cut off from anticipated resupply. He chose to press on and marched thirty-five miles to the south and established Fort Strother on the northern reaches of the Coosa River. This would be his forward operating base. On November 3 he engaged and defeated the Creek village at Tal- ishatchee, and on the 8th, he surrounded and defeated the Creek village at Talledega. He lost 15 dead and more than 80 wounded, but he annihilated the Indian force, leaving almost 300 dead. However, with no resupply, he ground to a halt, and worse than that, he faced a mutiny of his men. His militia had enlisted for one year, and on December 10, that year’s enlistment was up. No replacements were in the manpower system, and a mass release would have left Jackson’s army much diminished to face the onset of winter. As the men grumbled and prepared to march north to their homes, they found themselves staring down the muzzles of two of Jackson’s artillery pieces barring their way; and they knew Jackson’s reputation for not bluffing.C hoosing discretion, the men chose to not force the issue. But two days later, Jackson relented and released the men, and immediately asked if any would consider volunteering to stay, but, predictably, none stepped forward.14 so his 2,500-man force was reduced to 1,400, and in a few weeks he faced an even further reduction when a second enlistment contract would expire. Governor Blount ordered him to withdraw, but the stubborn Jack- son was not about to give up any ground that he had already gained against 140 the war of 1812, conflict and deception the Indians, and he hunkered down. In January that second enlistment expired, and more of his militia marched back to Tennessee, leaving him with just over 900 men in the freezing wilderness of the Mississippi Terri- tory. Jackson’s 1813 offensive against the Creeks was over, as was the entire American operation. It had been a year fought mostly by American militia, sometimes mutinous, and a year of sporadic success but mostly failure. The terrible massacre at Fort Mims had not been avenged; Jackson’s army had been nullified, and the center of Creek strength at Hickory Ground remained viable and unchallenged. The beginning of 1814 brought little change in Jackson’s war. In Janu- ary 60 new militiamen arrived to barely increase his greatly reduced force, but those few reinforcements spurred Jackson to mount an immediate attack to the south just as if he had received a regiment. His was to be the western part of a coordinated attack with an army from Georgia, coming in from the east. His offensive began on January 17, and the Creeks quickly engaged his columns in two attacks. One of those attacks severely wounded Colonel John Coffee, and Jackson was stopped and planned a withdrawal back to his camp at Fort Strother. But as he retreated, the pursuing Indian force continued to nip at his heels, and attacked his rear with almost catastrophic results. As his army descended into a ravine, a surprise attack caught Jackson in the worst of all possible tactical situations—fording a river in the presence of the enemy. “The front guard had crossed with part of the flank columns, the wounded were over, and the artillery [were] in the act of entering the creek,” said Jackson, “when an alarm-gun was heard in the woods. . . . The right and left columns of the rear guard precipitately gave way. This shameful retreat was disastrous in the extreme.”15 although he was finally able to repulse this attack through the extreme efforts of just a handful of men, whose gallantry discouraged the Indi- ans just when it seemed they had gained the upper hand, Jackson’s army limped back to his original starting point on January 29. He had not been able to venture one step closer to his objective—the Hickory Ground. On that very day, as if sent from heaven, 4,000 new Tennessee militiamen marched into camp on a six-month enlistment. But there was more. With them came regular army troops of the Thirty-Ninth Regiment. Jack- son was ecstatic. “I am truly happy having . . . Colonel [Williams] with me,” he said. “His regiment will give strength to my army, and quell mutiny.”16 finally a general, or two 141

On December 30, 1813, as Andrew Jackson pondered the problem of his depleting army in the Mississippi Territory, A British schooner, HMS Bram- blet, surprisingly sailed into the waters of Annapolis, not flying the familiar British Naval Ensign, but a white flag of truce, guaranteeing unimpeded passage. As it secured to the dock, passersby must certainly have looked curiously upon this strange scene, since the previous appearances of British warships in the waters of the Chesapeake always meant trouble. A courier departed the ship to awaiting transportation and clattered off through the city on his way to Washington. At midnight, his sealed package was in the hands of the Madison government.17 President James Madison read the communique and, one week later, delivered his prepared note to Congress to consider Great Britain’s acceptance of a proposal to institute negotiations for peace. “In appreciating the accepted proposal of the Government of Great Britain,” he wrote, “Congress will not fail to keep in mind that vigorous preparations for carrying on the war can in no respect impede the progress to a favorable result; whilst a relaxation of such preparations . . . would necessarily have the most injurious consequences.”18 The following week, in Boston, the Weekly Messenger carried observations about the new proposal, along with lots of vitriol against the Madi- son administration and the president himself. A particular opinion in a column penned by “the author of The Road to Ruin”—a columnist obviously committed to anonymity—displayed the animus and opposition that had been New England’s posture from the beginning of the war. He called Madison, Bonaparte’s “latest ally” and “our most detested and detestable ruler.” “Whatever is for your interests,” he wrote to his readers about the Madison administration, “the government will not adopt, if they can avoid it. Whatever will depress and ruin the eastern states, will be an object of their ambition and policy.”19 The journal also announced that with the defeat of Bonaparte and the arrival of peace overtures from Britain, Annapolis would be illuminated and a public dinner arranged. Enthusiasm was high. But in another column entitled “Peace,” that writer cautioned the locals to be wary of “speculators and the administration” and took the opportunity to also denigrate Madison. “A British government vessel has arrived at Annapolis, said to be laden with dispatches to our government. Now, have the cabinet divulged 142 the war of 1812, conflict and deception the purport of those, solely to a few speculators and their pimps at Wash- ington?”20 imagine the embarrassment and humiliation of this sneering writer when he discovered that his research had been shoddy and the documents he complained were being held in secret and were consigned to a few “pimps,” had actually been reprinted in their entirety on the very next page, under the headline “Important Documents”: “The following highly important Message and Documents were on the 6th instant transmitted by the President of the United States to both Houses of Congress.”21 This proposal for negotiations was actually the third time the possibility of peace, or an armistice, had been considered during the war. The first time was just after the start of hostilities, when the American minister Pinkney proposed an armistice, or a cease-fire, to allow time for more discussions, in return for a British renouncement of impressments. That had been rejected, and in delivering that rejection, Castlereagh revealed that Britain would never agree to that concession. The second was the unauthorized armistice concocted between Brit- ish general George Prevost and American general Henry Dearborn, when Dearborn learned that Britain had repealed the existing Orders in Council. Dearborn must have assumed he had the authority reserved to President Madison alone, but he quickly learned differently. That repeal of the hated orders was flawed in that an admiral inH alifax had the power to nullify the repeal. The Dearborn truce was promptly renounced by Madison. This new move to negotiations was originated by the Russians, who offered themselves as mediators. They had their own political motivations to mediate. When the Anglo-American conflict began in June 1812, Napo- leon launched his most aggressive campaign into Russian territory. Czar Alexander I faced a troubling dilemma. He was allied with Great Britain militarily and was concerned that American neutrality would dissolve into an alliance with France to help in its war against Britain. It was to his political and military advantage to attempt to bring the warring sides to the conference table, so that Britain’s war effort against Napoleon would not be weakened and America’s commercial trade to Rus- sia would not end. In September 1812, with a statement from John Quincy Adams (foreign minister to Russia), that he could see no “obstacle or difficulty” that would cause his government to decline the peace initiative, the czar laid his proposal, simultaneously, before the parties.22 finally a general, or two 143

on February 24, 1813, Madison accepted that offer, and in March, without waiting for any British response, nominated the appropriate ministers plenipotentiaries. The British, however, rejected the offer. Castlereagh was unyielding in his belief that France and the United States were aligned and it was that alignment that had caused the declaration of war. He felt that Napoleon’s Russian difficulties would bring America to heel.23 on July 21, 1813, two Americans, Albert Gallatin and James Bayard, arrived in St. Petersburg, completing a voyage that had begun on May 8. This arrival now became an embarrassment to both Russia and Great Brit- ain. The Americans were on the field, with the referees, waiting for their opponents to show up. The next move was up to Great Britain, and that placed the foreign secretary, Prime Minister Liverpool,24 and the Crown in awkward positions. Castlereagh was irritated and told the Russian minister to London that the focus of the world on these proposed peace talks actually was a distraction to the prospect of true peace. In his mind, the presence of the American ministers in St. Petersburg only served to unite Americans behind Madison, and that was an obstacle to peace. Perhaps in an effort to further save face, Castlereagh suggested that the Americans should not be invited to see the czar. Madison had surprised and outwitted the British, a feat for which he has never received the proper credit. He had, from the beginning, left no stone unturned to find a path that would avert war, even to the extreme of delaying reaction to ship seizures and the kidnapping of American citizens. Now with the Russian offer, he again sought a way to end hostilities and waited for Great Britain to join him. Quincy Adams said that the quick acceptance of the Russian proposal by the Americans proved “to the Emperor [the czar] and to the world their readiness and even eagerness for peace, and the falsehood . . . that we acted under the influence of France.”25 castlereagh needed to buy time and suggested that the American presence in Russia might offer an opportunity for direct negotiations. He was no amateur at politics, and by suggesting this alternative, he brilliantly did not reject “peace” but bought time to figure it all out. He could not allow the Russian project to continue. It would have been a double-barreled shot to the veracity, morality, and honor of the Crown. “The English,” said John Quincy Adams, “talk much about their honor 144 the war of 1812, conflict and deception and national morality—sometimes without meaning, but generally with a mixture of hypocrisy and self-delusion in about equal portions.” Count Romanzoff, the Russian foreign secretary expressed similar misgivings and “believed they would give an evasive answer.”26 if the Russian initiative had been allowed to go forward, the Russians’ esteem in the diplomatic circles of the international community would have skyrocketed, to the detriment of Great Britain; and if Great Britain had simply rejected the proposal out of hand, Castlereagh would have conveyed the idea that Britain was not looking for peace but wanted to prolong the war—a reality in fact made manifest in the nationwide call for “chastis- ing.”27 And it would have been hard for the world to ignore the fact that for all of Britain’s military prowess, it was not Wellington’s armies battling the half-million-man Grande Armée marching toward Moscow, but Russia’s. Secretary of State James Monroe felt that an additional deception and intrigue had motivated Britain to reject the Russian offer. In a secret document not included in the published instructions he sent to the negotiators who would pursue peace at Gothenburg, he wrote for the record that Brit- ain had been unwittingly painted into a corner by Russia’s peace offer and Madison’s quick acceptance. Britain had been placed on a slippery slope. On the question of impressments and maritime rights, she stood alone. Russia and the other powers of the European Continent would actually be in sympathy with the United States. “There is not a Power in Europe,” said Monroe, “that would give the slightest countenance to the British practice of impressment. Had that practice been brought into discussion under the auspices of Russia, it may reasonably be presumed that it would have been treated by the Emperor . . . as novel, absurd, and inadmissible in regard to other nations. . . . On any question of neutral rights, all Europe has long known and suffered under British violations of neutral rights.”28 These thorny diplomatic and political considerations caused Britain to reject the Russian offer but not exactly reject the idea of peace. Castlereagh seized the opportunity to advance the idea that direct negotiations with the Americans might be a possibility—in London, or possibly Gothenburg.29 with that, he masterfully bought time to maneuver, since all of the proposed new peace ideas would require lots of time to initiate. And dragging things out was something at which British negotiators were most adept. The Russian offer had been presented in September 1812, and it was not until January 1814 that the British counteroffer, with a revealing proviso, was in American hands for consideration. finally a general, or two 145

castlereagh’s letter from the Foreign Office to the American secretary of state stated: “I can assure you that the British Government is willing to enter into discussion with the Government of America for the conciliatory adjustment of the differences subsisting between the two States . . . not inconsistent with the established maxims of public law, and with the maritime rights of the British Empire.”30 There were those words again: “not inconsistent with the established maxims of public law, and with the maritime rights of the British empire.” Nothing had changed. The words “maritime rights” meant that public law was a secondary consideration to British “maritime” rights, and those rights included ship seizing and impressments. This “new” offer had nothing to do with conciliation. Madison was not fooled, and on January 5, James Monroe answered Castlereagh. He didn’t miss the opportunity to rhetorically jab at the sincerity of the Crown in rejecting the Russian initiative, and then he defined the terms on which the United States would agree to meet—not in London, but in Gothenburg, Sweden. “Whatever the United States may treat,” said Monroe, “they will treat with the sincere desire they have repeatedly manifested of terminating the present contest with Great Britain, on conditions of reciprocity consistent with the rights of both parties as sovereign and independent nations.31

In March 1814, Jackson was again ready, and he sent his 4,000-man army forward, 80 percent of which were militia. He had no time to spare while the enlistment clock ticked and was intent to make maximum use of the time available. He descended the Coosa River and crossed it to begin an attack on Indian villages located between the Coosa and the Tallapoosa. Within this boundary was contained the Hickory Ground, and its epicenter was located in a huge horseshoe bend in the Tallapoosa River. The Creek army had built a fortress within the fortress of the Hickory Ground, seemingly invulnerable on the three closed sides of the horseshoe and defended on the open end by a barricade of continuously stacked logs. Fighting ports pierced the barricade at shoulder height for its entire length. It ran for 350 yards across the neck of the peninsula and was anchored on both ends on the giant loop of the river. It was somewhat zigzagged or curved so as to expose an attacker who rushed the wall to flanking fire. 146 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Battle of Horseshoe Bend. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868.

The interior of the horseshoe was further defended with other log defenses throughout, and along the river were more fighting positions and caves dug into the riverbank. The whole Indian camp was eighty acres of defended ground.32 it was sixty miles from where Jackson crossed the Coosa River to Horse- shoe Bend. Along the way his scouts determined that 1,000 warriors were already in the fortress anticipating his attack. On March 24, after posting part of his force to protect his rear, Jackson began his march with his 3,000-man army, and four days later they went into camp six miles to the northwest of the horseshoe. On the 28th, his first move was to send Colonel Coffee with his cavalry and mounted infantry, made up of 700 militia and 600 friendly Indians, to surround the great horseshoe so that escape across the river was impossible.33 In this hammer-and-anvil tactic, Coffee was the anvil. Jackson and his infantry would be the hammer, and they massed for the attack in front of the massive breastworks waiting for the signal. He was amazed by the strength of the formidable defensive wall and position. “It was impossible finally a general, or two 147 to conceive a situation more eligible for defence than the one they had chosen,” he marveled.34 at 10:30 his cannons opened fire, complemented by some sporadic infantry fire that could only annoy the breastworks. The cannon bombardment lasted for two hours but hardly dented the massive logs. The Creeks massed at the barricade, manning the firing holes and prepared to repel the anticipated all-out assault; and they took their eyes off the rear of the peninsula where the river curved around. In the din and excitement of the bombardment, the Cherokee Indian allies of Colonel Coffee’s force silently swam the river, untied the Creek canoes, and silently floated them to theA merican side. Quickly, two hundred men ferried to the Indian side and occupied the high ground in the rear of the horseshoe. From there, they poured a deadly fire into the rear of the surprised Creeks and set fire to some of the buildings and huts.35 at the sound of the firing and seeing the smoke rising from the burning buildings, Jackson attacked.36 The Thirty-Ninth rushed the wall, many soldiers falling from Indian fire, but the soldiers gained the firing ports and poured fire through them. A major mounted the wall and called back for his men to follow but was shot dead and fell back to the American side. A young ensign named Sam Houston next mounted the breastwork and shouted to his men, and although an arrow pierced his thigh, he jumped into the compound. The Thirty-Ninth followed with loud yells and climbed over.37 caught in this crossfire from which there was no escape, theC reeks fell back in disarray and sought to flee and hide. Many ran to their canoes to escape, to find them gone, and attempted to swim across, only to discover Coffee’s anvil. The Indians did not surrender despite Jackson’s proposed white flag, and the soldiers hunted them down from one hiding place to the next. In the end, the victory was complete. “The slaughter was greater than all we had done before,” exclaimed Coffee. “We killed not less than eight hundred and fifty or nine hundred of them, and took about five hundred squaws and children prisoners.” Jackson said, “The power of the Creeks is I think forever broken.”38 Jackson’s army did not emerge from the battle at Horseshoe Bend unscathed. His casualties were 70 killed and 206 wounded. He formed his men in parade and read his order to them, praising their valor and courage and proclaiming to them the significance of their victory. TheC reeks would never again “murder our women and children.”39 148 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

on April 4, Jackson marched his army toward the Hickory Ground at the confluence of the Tallapoosa and the Coosa. The Creeks not in the Horseshoe Bend battle fled toward Florida, while other Indian chiefs resolved themselves to surrender. On the 17th he arrived at the confluence of the two rivers and, in a dramatic show of victory and conquest, planted his flag on the exact spot where Bienville had planted his flag one hundred years earlier and had erected a French fort. The old French trenches were cleaned out and the fort converted and rebuilt to be an American strongpoint. It was renamed Fort Jackson. It was here that Jackson received delegates from the Indian chief, who acknowledged their submission to the dictates of Andrew Jackson that included large cessions of land as reparations. It was an unconditional surrender, long before the famous demands of Ulysses S. Grant or Dwight Eisenhower. The Creek war was over.40 on April 20, the West Tennessee troops went home. Major General Thomas Pinckney, brother to Charles Pinckney, minister to Spain during the Louisiana Purchase, arrived at Fort Jackson and took command. But there were disquieting signs that some of the defeated Creeks, in their retreating, had been contacted by the British to join with them to continue the attack on America. Two British vessels containing 5,000 stands of arms were offshore near Apalachicola waiting to resupply the Indians, and 300 British troops were in the process of building a fort. A second agent reported another 20,000 stands of arms. Many of those defeated Creeks made their way to the British in Pensacola.41

In June 1814, six months after Russia had defeated Napoleon’s army and marched into Paris, and fully two months before the Creek Indian massacre at Fort Mims, General George Prevost, commanding the British force on the Niagara front, received orders from War Minister Lord Bathurst to plan to wage extended war against America. Freed from the military demands of the Napoleonic War, Britain was able to turn its attention and resources to defeating the Americans. Admiral John Warren, from his headquarters in Halifax, said he was prepared “to chastise the Americans into submission.”42 These orders certainly did not call for new tactics. The British command had earlier initiated punishing raids on the American towns of the Chesa- finally a general, or two 149 peake area in the spring of 1813. Warren had launched an all-out naval offensive, deploying as many as fifteen ships, to roam theE ast Coast and the Chesapeake Bay and tighten the strangling blockade against all shipping, including the privateers, and had assigned a separate force to conduct raids to ravage and pillage the American countryside and bring the war home to the Americans. He conducted a campaign of stealing, burning, and looting, with little opposition to oppose his force in the sparsely populated and barely guarded towns and villages of the Chesapeake Bay countryside. Two American frigates, Adams and Constellation, were of no use to confront this increased naval onslaught, because they were hopelessly blockaded—one in the confines of Potomac River and the other in protected waters at Norfolk. For either to attempt a vainglorious run to escape would have been suicidal in the face of this huge British naval presence, and both ships would certainly have been captured. Emboldened with this increased naval force, and having locked down on the constricting blockade of American ports, Admiral George Cock- burn, second in command to Admiral Warren, planned his initial attack not on the rural countryside and farmlands, but boldly against Norfolk and Portsmouth, to capture the cities, the vital Navy Yard, and the frigate Constellation helplessly anchored there. With his landing party also reinforced with 2,600 newly arrived regulars, he was supremely confident that he could deliver a devastating blow to the Americans. Inspired by Admiral Cockburn’s unvarnished confidence, a young Brit- ish soldier anxiously awaited his chance to strike at the Americans. “There was nothing,” he said, “but disdain for the Americans who could not possibly withstand our superior, disciplined forces. Several of our officers had brought a change of clothing, shaving gear, and [their] dogs with them.”43 admirals Warren and Cockburn would only have to defeat the seven-gun fort on Craney Island that guarded the entrance to the Elizabeth River to allow their ships to sail in and make quick work of the twenty-gunboat fleet formed in a battle line blocking the approach to Norfolk; those boats would hardly be a match for the larger, better-armed British frigates. Farther up the river, two smaller forts, positioned on opposite banks from each other, formed the final protective line in front of Norfolk; andConstellation, unable to maneuver, would be easy picking. Cockburn arrived in Hampton Roads with an overwhelmingly superior force of eight men-of-war, twenty frigates, and numerous other smaller ships, carrying a combined naval and landing force of 5,000 men. He had 150 the war of 1812, conflict and deception boldly promised his invaders that their attack would begin against the fort on Craney Island, and he promised they would be on the island for break- fast, His address to his men then turned to “Booty and Beauty.” He said, “Of the great beauty of the ladies of Norfolk . . . they should have the disposal of them.”44 craney Island was separated from the mainland, but at low tide it was fordable and dangerously vulnerable to infantry attack. The Americans had erected a small temporary bridge to connect with the defenders, no matter the tide, and that bridge could easily be made useless; but at low tide, an assault would not need that small, channelizing bridge to gain Craney Island, and enemy soldiers could attack on a wide front by men fording the shallow waters. Seeing this enormous naval force as it arrived and arrayed itself against them, the defenders on the isolated outpost of Craney Island initially panicked and thought to abandon their exposed position to form a better line somewhere else, but cooler heads prevailed and convinced General Rob- ert B. Taylor, the commanding general of the district, that the best chance to successfully defend the entrance to the Elizabeth River and Norfolk rested in successfully holding the fort. So 580 soldiers, regular and militia, and 150 sailors and marines from Constellation moved to Craney Island and took up their positions to await the attack.45 The fort’s four guns were now beefed up by three guns from Constellation and had experienced navy and marine gunners manning them. On June 22, their eager eyes watched as British troops began to disembark from their ships and load into their assault barges. When the attack force was ready, they turned the bows of their landing craft toward shore and rowed in. Finding a long pole, the Americans nailed their fifteen-star, fifteen- striped flag to it and hoisted it defiantly above the ramparts on the island; and then turned their eyes to the first British landing. Twenty-five hundred men waded ashore several miles to the north, out of range of the guns of the fort and the gunboats. In short order they aligned into a tactical formation and maneuvered through the underbrush to an assault position directly opposite the narrow strait separating them from the Americans. But their planned assault was stymied by the high tide that made the small strait unfordable. Up to that time, the Americans had only watched the maneuver and had held their fire; but now the enemy was within cannon range. Battle of Craney Island. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. 152 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Now, with practiced precision, they unleashed a veritable “broadside” of accurate grapeshot that drove the stunned British troops back, and away from their threatening, close position. The attackers could only fire their Congreve rockets, which were hardly effective since their incendiary war- heads were meant to ignite buildings in an attack on a built-up area. No sooner had those forces backed off than the Americans saw that the attack was not over. A second wave, with 1,500 more attackers packed in fifty landing barges, moved in two columns running parallel to and hugging the coastline to avoid artillery fire. They seemed to be making an attempt to land on the island itself. Conspicuously leading this small flotilla wasA dmiral Warren’s distinc- tively green barge, Centipede. Twenty-four men bent to the oars moving it quickly through the waves, and its brass three-pound cannon stood like a beacon in her bow. Captain John Martin Hanchett, a natural, illegitimate son of King George III, commanded the large vessel.46 Some reports said that he sat in the stern wrapped in the British flag, holding an umbrella to show his disdain for the Americans—as if he were on a Sunday excursion on a peaceful pond. On came the attacking boats with oars cutting swiftly through the water, and the Americans watched and held their fire. When all were within range of Fort Craney’s guns, the thunderous initial volley from five of the seven cannons from the fort hurled solid, grape, and canister shot into their midst. But although the cannonballs caused great confusion in the water, the small boats recovered and continued to advance. Finally, the impetus of the attack was broken. Centipede, along with four other landing barges, lay shattered in the surf, and the rest beat a hasty retreat. One British soldier in that shattered landing force said:

They held their fire until we were just about to run onto the beach.A nd then they opened up with . . . grape and canister shot, ripping several boats to shreds. . . . At the same time, one of the gunboats that was nearest to the island joined in the fusillade. Men were falling everywhere, and the Centipede, veering off toward the north and thus presenting her beam to the gunners, took a direct hit and sank immediately. Four of the other barges suffered the same fate. The artillerists fired with the accuracy of riflemen.47

The attack was over. The British had suffered 144 casualties: 6 killed, 24 wounded, and 114 missing. The Americans were victorious and entirely unscathed. British lieutenant colonel Charles Napier summarized the out- finally a general, or two 153 come of the battle in two sentences: “A large creek stopped our progress by land, and shoal water stopped the boats by sea. A sharp cannonade from the works on the island cost us seventy-one men, without returning a shot! We despise the Yankee too much.”48 But despite this surprising defeat, Admiral Cockburn remained undaunted, weighed anchor, and sailed his force ten miles to the north with the town of Hampton in his sights. On June 25, he launched a daring night attack. As before, 2,500 attackers, including a foreign French battalion euphe- mistically called Chasseurs Britanniques,49 loaded into landing barges and, as dawn broke, made land two miles from Hampton. The American militia’s hasty defensive lines met the attackers and inflicted 50 casualties, but, after their spirited defense, were driven back with thirty casualties of their own. The road to Hampton was opened and at the mercy of the British invaders.50 admiral Cockburn and troop commander General Thomas Sidney Beck- with moved into the town and conveniently turned a blind eye to one of the worst episodes of murder, pillaging, and raping in the history of the war. While charges of atrocities during a war are to be closely examined for exaggeration, since all sides use them with impunity for propaganda, the crimes committed in Hampton were not trumped up and were even verified by a British commander on the ground. American Major Stapleton Crutchfield, the defeated commander, testified, “The unfortunate females ofH ampton who could not leave the town, were abused in the most shameful manner.” British lieutenant colonel Charles James Napier, who had fought on the ground and had witnessed the barbarism, said, “Every horror was perpetuated with impunity—rape, murder, pillage—and not a man was punished . . . My hands are clean; but it is hateful to see the poor Yankees robbed, and to be the robber.”51 Napier’s testimony was given as a matter of honor, not because he was a friend of the Americans, and deserves much weight. In fact he was an avowed enemy, but he knew right from wrong. He once famously declared his hatred for the Americans as unfair fighters in the traditional understanding of standing toe to toe as gentlemen: “They fight unfairly, firing jagged pieces of iron and every sort of devilment, nails, broken pokers, old locks of guns, gun-barrels, everything that will do mischief. . . . This is wrong. Man delights to be killed according to the law of nations. . . . A 24 lb. shot in the stomach is fine, we die heroically: but a brass candlestick for 154 the war of 1812, conflict and deception stuffing, with a garnish of rusty two-penny nails makes us die ungenteelly, and with the cholic.”52 That many other British officers and soldiers might have condemned Cockburn’s criminal behavior is certain, but there were also many who didn’t, and the fact remains that no one was punished for the crimes. The Hampton outrage reflected directly on the leadership ofA dmiral Cockburn and General Beckwith. It was Cockburn’s “Booty and Beauty” speech that gave a wink and a nod to undisciplined soldiers to engage in a wave of crime; and his words could never be interpreted, even by his most ardent supporters, as instructions to not commit war crimes. He enabled the conduct in this reign of terror against innocent civilians. As the war went on, “Beauty and Booty,” which had always been a slogan, often denied by the BritishO ffi- cer Corps, became a battle cry, testified to by legions of terrifiedA mericans. The commission of inquiry, formed to investigate this lawless behavior, enabled a continuation of British denial. It blamed the rapes and murders on the French Chasseurs Britannique. Even though there was no denial that the British troops, and officers, had been willing participants in the entire affair, the most egregious crimes, the attacks on the women, were laid completely at the feet of the French culprits. It gave Admiral Warren the opportunity to take the stage and unceremoniously dismiss the Chasseurs Britannique from the British Army, an act that also served the dual purpose of deflecting attention away from the other events of British participation. But the investigating commission’s report contained wording that was also an unintended indictment of the entire command. It concluded, “These atrocities . . . committed by the French soldiers attached to the British forces now in our waters,53 appeared to us no justification of those who employed them, believing as we do, that an officer is, or should be, responsible for the conduct of the troops under his command.”54 The sincerity of the commission’s report is a matter of question. While the commission might have believed in the noble maxim of an officer’s responsibility, morality, and leadership, did any of those commissioners, for one moment, recognize that Cockburn, who was responsible for his troops, had actually goaded them into criminal action? He also was not punished. In fact he went on to a new campaign of terror; and like Berke- ley, Humphreys, Douglas, Bradley, and Whitby before him, was rewarded with promotion and a continued career. General Beckwith, on his part, “attempted to justify the atrocities by pleading the law of retaliation.” He had allowed the Hampton rampage to finally a general, or two 155 go forward based on his concocted interpretation of that law. He falsely alleged that the Americans had waded out into the shoals of Craney Island after the British repulse there, and had systematically murdered the surviving soldiers of Centipede and another sunken barge.55 another investigative board was convened to investigate Beckwith’s allegations, and it found them to be completely false. Two sunken boats had continued to be in the direct line of fire during the latter stages of that British attack, and the American gunners on Craney Island had actually ceased firing grapeshot to avoid further casualties to the helpless men in the sunken boats. They had continued to engage the remaining attackers, but only with solid shot. When the battle ended, the Americans went out into the surf to capture and assist the stricken men.56 Both sides reported that more than twenty British prisoners were taken, further refuting Beck- with’s wild, murder accusation to justify his actions. “We waded out to the Centipede,” said American commodore Josiah Tattnall, “and found a Frenchman in her with both legs shot off. Several others were in her, wounded in the legs and feet by the passage of the ball. We carried the Frenchman ashore in a hammock, and he died soon afterward.”57 But there is a further clue concerning the fate of the survivors of Cen- tipede. Historian John Lewis Thompson reported of the men in the surf. “The Centipede was accordingly drawn up and . . . 22 of her men came on the island with her, and surrendered themselves as deserters.” 58 Not as prisoners, but as deserters! Does this act perhaps reflect on the subject of impressments? What soldier surrenders to the other side as a deserter rather than as a prisoner, who might be repatriated or exchanged and possibly see the motherland again? And even more to the point, what soldier surrenders to the side that is projected to lose the war? Could these deserters have been impressed men finally finding a path to freedom? They did not want to be repatriated or traded back to Britain as swapped prisoners; they wanted to get as far away from the British grasp as they could. With the British Army and Navy on the prowl, the call went out to all American militias to respond to confront and hurl back this terrible force; and with their homes and possessions now threatened, most responded. But the response was to pit amateur soldiers against soldiers of a regular army; and the militia had proven that, for the most part, they could at best provide only an occasional obstacle. Immediately after the rape of Hampton, Cockburn unleashed his marauding force throughout the surrounding countryside for the next two 156 the war of 1812, conflict and deception weeks. His actions must have certainly pleased the majority of the British government, military, and population, who had often chanted and called for the Americans to be chastised and beaten into submission. Up and down the James River, the British raiders stole everything and burned what they could not steal. Entire flocks of sheep and other livestock were herded onto the landing barges and taken to the ships to feed the men; and gardens and homes were stripped bare.59 He then spread his terror down the eastern seaboard to include South Carolina and Georgia, where he commandeered a house and set up for the winter.

Now, in 1814, the British military brain trust had drawn up an operational plan that would not only result in the absolute defeat of the United States, but would confiscate land and reintroduce some colonial status in that land, especially at New Orleans. The plan was to continue as Cockburn had in 1813 and “to destroy and lay waste the principal towns and commercial cities, assailable either by land or naval forces.” 60 Those cities included Charleston, Savannah, Baltimore, and Washington. New Orleans was to be further seized and held as a colony of Great Britain. Defeat was not an option, and any failure in one operation was not to deter the offensive, “no matter what the slaughter.” Forces stationed in Halifax would provide reserve and replacements as needed. Should attacks on the targets in the East be defeated in several places, then all forces should “bend all their strength against the city of New Orleans, and its defences on the Mississippi.”61 admiral Alexander Cochrane (not to be confused with Cockburn), who had succeeded Admiral Warren at Halifax, ordered a small squadron, being outfitted at Pensacola under the protection of Spain, to plan an offensive against the outer defenses of New Orleans along the Gulf Coast. Fort Bow- yer at Mobile was garrisoned and guarded against an amphibious assault there that could enable a land attack on New Orleans from the East. The scope of this final all-out attack would be breathtaking and would invade the United States at three widely separated points: a naval-supported amphibious landing from the north at Plattsburg, N.Y.; to the east, a similar landing to create a diversion and perhaps capture a major American city like Baltimore; and from the south to capture New Orleans and the Mississippi River.62 finally a general, or two 157

It was a massive expansion of Napoleon’s original plan of 1803 to capture New Orleans. British confidence in their plan could not have been higher, and in the government hall in London, it overflowed. Much later in the year, Lord Castlereagh could not disguise his excitement at the prospects of victory in America: “I expect at this moment that most of the large seaport towns of America are . . . laid to ashes; that we are in possession of New Orleans, and have command of all the rivers of the Mississippi valley and the Lakes, and that the Americans are now little better than prisoners in their own country.”63 how eerily similar were those words to the words Talleyrand had uttered in 1802. He too had a vision of a weakened America after “shutting them up within the limits which Nature seems to have traced for them.”64 It was as if Talleyrand and Castlereagh had rehearsed their lines together.

On the American side, there had been much activity to correct the failed military policies and leadership that had brought such dismal results throughout 1813. One of the first improvements was to recognize that militia troops engaging trained regulars was usually a predictable loss for the militia. Secretary Armstrong organized two training facilities, called Camps of Instruction, one at Plattsburg, New York, and the second at Buf- falo. WinfieldS cott ran the Buffalo facility and trained his men vigorously, ten hours a day. There was also a change in high command; General Jacob J. Brown was promoted to the rank of major general and made responsible for the Lake Ontario–Niagara Theater. Like Andrew Jackson, Brown was a decisive commander, never hesitant to exploit a favorable opportunity. Despite Perry’s spectacular victory on Lake Erie, the British had re- claimed the control of the lakes when the Americans squandered their possession of the forts and lost control of the river and Lake Erie. To the north, on the opposite end where the Niagara River discharged into Lake Ontario, Britain’s control was mainly due to her superior ship-building program. Now the Americans would attempt to wrest back that control, and Sec- retary Armstrong ordered General Brown to establish his army back on 158 the war of 1812, conflict and deception the Upper Canada Peninsula by crossing the Niagara and seizing Fort Erie on the southern end of its twenty-six-mile course. He was to then move to the north and attack along its western bank to threaten Fort George, or seize and hold the bridge over the Chippawa River, which separated the peninsula and the two forts.65 on July 3, Brown crossed his Left Division of the Army of the North, now not just militia, but regulars who had gone through vigorous training, and seized Fort Erie.66 He divided the division into two brigades under Generals Winfield Scott and Eleazer Ripley. To identify his newly trained men as regulars, he had intended to clothe them in the traditional blue uniform, but not enough material was on hand, so the majority of his division wore militia gray. Once across the Niagara, and having successfully run off the few British defenders, he was reinforced by General Peter Porter’s mixed division of 600 Pennsylvania militia and 600 friendly Iroquois Indians, bringing his total to 3,500 men.67 Hoping to exploit the element of surprise in his attack, Brown sent Scott and Porter quickly ahead, to seize the critical bridge crossing the Chippawa River along the road to Fort George. But before they could reach the Chippawa, the Americans saw that the British were there in force on the opposite bank,68 so they withdrew across a small creek and set up their camp, placing the creek, and the Chippawa, between them and the British. Scott had promised his men that they would celebrate the 4th of July the next day with a parade, but on July 5, he moved them across the small creek to begin his advance. A small British force had crossed the Chippawa and begun sniping at Porter’s men on their left flank. Porter attacked and drove the bothersome scouts off, but after chasing them through the woods and breaking out on the other side, his men discovered the main British columns advancing across the Chippawa Bridge and forming opposite the American position. Scott hurried his own men across the creek to form his line of battle, and soon the two lines faced each other, the British just south of the Chippawa and the Americans just north of the small parallel creek. Scott ordered his men forward, and as they marched in a line of mostly gray uniforms, he rode up and down shouting encouragement and pressing his men on. Mindful of their ruined parade to celebrate yesterday’s 4th of July, he used the moment to shout to them, “make a new anniversary.”69 The advancing American line closed the distance separating them from the British line as they approached each other on this previously intended finally a general, or two 159 parade field. The red line marched southward and the gray line marched to the north. The British were the first to fire, and opened with their artillery felling some of the advancing Americans; but the rest closed ranks and continued inexorably forward. General Riall, on the British side, had seen the gray uniforms and expected the presumed American militia to collapse in the face of his galling cannons and his steadily advancing redcoats. But to his surprise, they did not. In fact, as the Americans advanced, they delivered their own shattering volleys of aimed fire into the British ranks, unexpectedly taking down officers. Riall turned to his astonished staff and said, “Those are regulars, by God.”70 in the center of the battleground, the two lines finally crashed together. For thirty minutes the battle was furious and men fell in great numbers

Battle of Chippewa. Courtesy U.S. Army Center of Military History. 160 the war of 1812, conflict and deception on both sides, their lines torn and shredded by close-range musket balls. But as the battle progressed, Scott gained the upper hand and was able to press his flanks forward so that his line took a concave shape, with the ends slightly wrapping around the British flanks.A s the Americans poured fire into the distorted British line, it at first faltered, and the flanks began to crumble, and when the Americans launched a furious bayonet charge, the entire center collapsed.71 General Ripley’s brigade now arrived on the field, and Brown prepared to commit it, but it wasn’t necessary because the British were streaming back to the Chippawa River. American casualties for the twenty-minute battle were 275, while the British lost 441.72 Brown was lavish in his praise of Winfield Scott: “[To] him more than any other man, I am indebted for the victory of the 5th of July.”73 Brown’s division followed the retreating British several miles to Queens town, the site of an earlier American defeat, and waited for Commodore Issac Chauncey’s fleet to hopefully attackF ort George. But the navy did not show up, and after two weeks, Brown again fell back to the Chippawa. He did not need the navy to advance to the west to Burlington, well into Upper Canada, so he planned that as his next objective. But Brown’s victory at Chippawa had raised great concern in the mind of British Lieutenant General George Drummond, the lieutenant governor of Upper Canada; and on July 25, he ordered a 400-man force to attack to the south from Fort Niagara on the American side, in the hope that as Brown moved on the east side of the Niagara, this threat would force him to cross back from Canada. Instead of doing that, General Brown ordered just the opposite tactic and sent WinfieldS cott to attack to the north, on the western side toward Fort George, in hopes of likewise forcing the British to cross back into Canada. Unknown to the Americans, Drummond had already crossed over. Drummond had been able to strip troops from York and Kingston with the arrival of 16,000 men from Lord Wellington’s army in Europe. He now placed 1,800 men along the portage road at Lundy’s Lane, just three miles north of Brown’s camp at Chippawa, and on the 25th, joined them with his own force. He quickly occupied the high ground at Lundy’s Lane with his combined force of 3,500 men. When Scott’s column of 1,000 showed up at 6:00 p.m., he was shocked to see this strong British force that immediately engaged him with massed artillery from a cemetery on the prominent hill. But Scott launched a vig- finally a general, or two 161 orous attack against the entrenched British and managed to turn their left flank and even capture General Riall. General Drummond pulled his infantry back in the face of this determined American attack, and in doing so, exposed the artillery.74 it was now dark, and Scott’s men were exhausted and badly wounded when General Brown arrived on the field with his other two brigades. In short order the fresh Americans attacked and eliminated the artillery and pressed forward in the gloom and dark. A British reinforcing column stumbled onto the battlefield, in the confusion found itself directly in the path of the American attack, and were hurled back, losing their own artillery.75 drummond, in desperation, launched a furious counterattack that was beaten back by the Americans, but not before massive casualties occurred on both sides. A second attack saw Ripley’s American line waver, but it turned the redcoats away. Shortly before midnight, with whomever he could find, Drummond hurled his line again at the American line, formed up as best it could. This final attack was, like the last, again beaten back; and the two exhausted armies lay gasping on the battlefield. The casualties were horrific. It was the bloodiest day of the entire war. British casualties were almost 900; the Americans suffered slightly less—more than 850. One of those killed leading his men in the attack was Captain Abraham F. Hull, the son of the disgraced commanding general at Detroit. The opposing commanding officers were all casualties:S cott and Brown were severely wounded; Riall was captured, and Drummond had been wounded in his neck. He too had been surprised by the ferocity and discipline of the American attack. “Of so determined a Character were attacks directed against our guns,” said Drummond, “that our Artillery Men were bayonetted by the enemy in the Act of loading, and the muzzles of the Enemy’s Guns were advanced within a few Yards of ours.”76 Both sides withdrew from the battlefield—the Americans first. Both claimed victory in the Battle of Lundy’s Lane or the Battle of Niagara Falls;77 the Americans because, with inferior numbers, they had hurled back the British attacks after first driving them from their defensive positions on the high ground, and had also captured their cannons; the British because they were the last to leave the field and because they retrieved their cannons. major General Peter Porter, in a letter to Governor D. D. Thompkins, bitterly complained about the decision to withdraw from the battlefield. O“ ur Battle of Lundy Lane or Niagara Falls. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. finally a general, or two 163 victory was complete,” he said, “but, alas, this victory gained by exhibitions of bravery never surpassed in this country, was converted into a defeat by a precipitate retreat, leaving the dead, the wounded and captured artillery, and our hard earned honor to the enemy.”78 Brown went back to the Chippawa. Drummond went to Queenstown, but not before huge funeral pyres consumed many of the bodies of the fallen on both sides, along with their horses.79 Perhaps a rematch would crown a winner. On the morning of July 26, the badly wounded Generals Brown and Scott were transported to the other side of the Niagara River to Buffalo, fully ex- pecting that General Ripley would dig in and hold his strong position at the Chippawa until reinforced; but almost as soon as their boat was out of sight, Ripley ordered the army to retreat to Fort Erie—in fact to the Black Rock Ferry just below the fort, with the intention of transporting the entire army out of Canada to the American side. The other officers were furious, and Ripley decided to cross in the ferry to consult with General Brown, who was still there. Brown was shocked and scorned Ripley for his action; he issued a written order that the army was to hold its position at Fort Erie, and to not withdraw.80 He also asked that General Edmund Gaines, commander at Fort Erie, take command of the army from General Ripley. For the next week, the American army dug in furiously and created a formidable fortress out of the old fort. On August 2 they were ready for whatever General Drummond might throw at them, and the next day, Drummond moved to lay siege to the fort. The popular General Gaines arrived to take command on August 5, to shouts of cheering, and he did not have long to wait for action. On August 7, the English artillerists unleashed a tremendous bombardment on the fort from five cannons, in an attempt to blast the Americans into submission. This siege continued unabated for six days, and on August 13, General Drummond, having brought up all of his cannons and rockets to join with his original five cannons, unleashed a spectacular display of firepower. But despite its impressive flashing and thundering, the strong fort, presenting a twelve-hundred-yard front, shrugged it all off.81 when the bombardment stopped, Gaines suspected a direct assault by the British infantry would follow, and urged his men to stay alert and expect the enemy to make an attempt. As darkness came, his fellow officers were also convinced that the attack would be made that very night. 164 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

on the British side, after such a week of thunderous cannonades, the main infantry attack was to be totally silent. Hoping to catch the Americans sleeping in the dead of night, General Drummond issued a short order to his attacking force. “The Lieut General most strongly recommends a free use of the Bayonet.”82 fifteen hundred men planned to assault in three columns. Their scaling ladders were at the ready, and their muskets had bayonets fixed. Shortly before 2:00 a.m., they moved out across the open field toward the fort, while inside the fort, the American anticipation of an attack had waned, and men nodded off as the night wore on. In the field between the fort and the British lines, Gaines had posted a 100-man picket outpost that was suddenly alerted, not by the sight of the advancing line, but by the sound of their muffled march. Lieutenant Wil- liam Belknap did not hesitate. He fired his musket in alarm and, with his men, raced back to the fort, with the British in hot pursuit. In the dark, the British columns approached on the double-quick, and instead of catching the Americans napping, they found them very much alert and more than happy to rake their lines with the combined fire power of their twenty-four-pounders. A pyrotechnic flare gave theA mericans a brief glimpse of the huge British force before the battlefield again went dark. Some had placed ladders to scale the walls, but grape and canister shot thinned the British lines and sheets of flame from massed musket fire drove the attacking soldiers off. Five times that night Drummond’s soldiers came on in an attempt to defeat the left flank, and five times they were repulsed. British lieutenant colonel Ernest Cruikshank wrote of the American fire: “The guns of the fort and water battery, literally crammed to the muzzle with case-shot and bags of musket balls, and the muskets of a long line of infantry loaded with ‘ball and buck’ cartridges containing a bullet and three buckshot opened upon them at short range with fatal effect.”83 On the right, despite heavy casualties, 100 men scaled the walls and gained the interior of the bastion. The fighting was hand-to-hand as the Americans charged to repulse them. At the height of this desperate struggle, the din of battle suddenly died. “Every sound was hushed by the sense of an unnatural tremor beneath our feet, like the first heave of an earthquake,” saidL ieutenant David Douglass of the American artillery. “Almost at the same instant the center of the bastion burst up with a terrific explosion, and a jet of flame, mingled with fragments of timber, earth, stone, and bodies of men, rose to the height of finally a general, or two 165 one or two hundred feet in the air, and fell in a shower of ruins to a great distance all around.”84 “The stormers suffered terribly,” said Colonel Cruikshank. “Many were killed, some fairly blown to pieces, others crushed beneath falling masses of stone and timber. Those who remained unhurt were hurled violently from their feet thoroughly dismayed and bewildered by this unexpected catastrophe.”85 The magazine beneath the feet of the attacking British had detonated for reasons never fully known. It was the final blow, andD rummond’s surviving attackers limped off the field. They had left behind 221 killed; 174 wounded; and 186 prisoners. The Americans had 17 killed, 56 wounded, and 11 missing.86 But neither side left the contested ground. Both Drummond and Gaines received supplies and replacement to reinforce their positions. Gaines’s force swelled to more than 3,000 men, and twenty-seven cannons bristled from the gun positions of the fort. Nor was Drummond idle. With newly arrived cannons, he renewed his bombardments, lobbing solid and hot shot, and Congreve rockets, daily into his adversary’s position, hoping to force the Americans to evacuate. On September 28, one of those shots wounded General Gaines, forcing evacuation, and the wounded General Brown returned to try to take command. His wounds soon left him unfit to resume, and he returned to Buffalo, leaving General Ripley, who had attempted to evacuate the army after Lundy’s Lane, in command. The other officers went into an uproar, and with the army in peril, General Brown braved his wounds and returned.87 drummond had tactically positioned his 4,500 men in a besieging arc just out of range of the American artillery, and he began an operation to prepare fortified positions just 400 yards from the fort so that he could deliver accurate devastating artillery fire. But all was not well withD rummond’s army, and suddenly work slowed on his offensive preparations. His men were very exposed to the elements, and torrential rains kept the unprotected soldiers in misery. A snatched prisoner revealed that his army was sick, down with typhoid fever, so that Drummond was contemplating moving away from this unhealthy spot. Brown immediately appreciated his opportunity and, on September 9, just one week after his return to command, planned a daring raid on the British brigade that manned the forward outpost. He would strike them hard before the rest of the forces in the surrounding positions could react 166 the war of 1812, conflict and deception to any call for help. But at his council of war with his officers to outline his plan, Brown’s idea did not meet with an enthusiastic reception and in fact was frowned upon by many. Leading the dissent was the usually defeatist General Ripley, who thought the idea was insane and lacked any hope of success; he said “he should be well satisfied to escape from the disgrace . . . which would fall upon all engaged in it.”88 major Thomas Jesup, a hero at Lundy’s Lane, recalled that “General Brown was evidently much disappointed at the results of the council.”89 But Brown was undaunted, and rather than continue to force his idea, which might lead to bickering and unneeded conversation that would spread to the men, and then possibly to the enemy, he simply went about as if the whole idea had been shelved. He would continue with the regular meetings, but focusing on the matter of continuing the defense of Fort Erie. But behind Brown’s facade was his iron-will determination to launch this attack to drive the British army from their positions. He confided only to those he trusted, “We must keep our counsels; the impression must be made that we are done with the affair; but as sure as there is a God in heaven, the enemy shall be attacked in his works, and beaten to as soon as all the volunteers shall have passed over!”90 The volunteers were to be under the command of General Peter Porter, who was waiting to cross the river and beef up Brown’s force. Porter was very disappointed in the New Englanders and their continued determination to sit the war out and still protest Mister Madison’s War. He had tried to recruit men to help the defenders of Fort Erie, but he had few takers. On August 9 he had asked, “Is it possible that the State of New York will sit with her arms folded and see this army, deserving a better fate, sacrificed? With 3,000 men . . . we should not only be relieved but we might with certainty capture the whole British army in thirty days.”91 from his waiting position, he set about ordering that the temporary status of the army be upgraded to be more permanent; he floored the ground under the tents and created the atmosphere of an extended defensive stay. But he also sent out spies and created a deception that was nothing short of brilliant. He sent out men posing as deserters, who were received into the British lines. While there they talked about the defensive posture being taken at Fort Erie. There was no suspicion at any time in the entrenched British army.92 Brown had also sent out a patrol consisting of two lieutenants, who, in the dark, marked a route that entered the surrounding woods from the left finally a general, or two 167

Battle of Fort Erie. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. of the fort and traced a route that would lead to within yards of the right flank of the British advanced position.O n the right of the fort, a small ravine could conceal the approach of a second force to attack the British center. At noon on September 17, aided by the cover of a dense fog, Brown’s first corps, under General Porter, exited the extreme left of the fort and followed Lieutenants Riddle and Frazier deep into the woods along their circuitously marked path. Their movements were executed with stealth foremost in mind, and it took the better part of three hours to cover the 168 the war of 1812, conflict and deception mile that brought them to within fifteen yards of the British right flank. General Brown, still in a wounded condition, trailed the column through the woods. The second corps, under General James Miller, a hero from Lundy’s Lane, exited the fort via the sunken-road entrance and moved just inside the wood line to enter the concealing ravine less than four hundred yards in front of the center of the unsuspecting British position. They would wait for Porter’s attack on the left to initiate their move on the center. Thirty minutes before three o’clock, Porter attacked, almost simultaneously with the British discovery of his presence, and quickly rolled up the enemy position, captured two cannons and a blockhouse, and blew up the powder magazine. The British fell back in disarray, and with their attention drawn to the action on their right, Miller struck their center. He penetrated between the adjacent two batteries and seized two more cannons and another blockhouse. As the battle raged on for forty-five minutes, Drummond finally got his relief column to the scene and attacked the Americans, who ordered a withdrawal. But it was not before they too had suffered many casualties, including 80 killed and more than 400 wounded and missing.93 The Brit- ish lost more than 100 killed and also had more than 400 wounded and missing; but they had also lost 382 men captured.94 General Brown reported to the secretary of war, “One thousand regulars, and an equal portion of militia, in one hour of close action, blasted the hopes of the enemy, destroyed the fruits of fifty days’ labor, and diminished his effective force one thousand men at least.”95 four days after the attack, Drummond withdrew his forces to the north, to his old positions at the Chippawa. Part of General’s Izard’s army from the Lake Champlain Theater now arrived to reinforce Brown; being senior, Izard took command of almost 8,000 men and moved against Drummond at Chippawa. After a skirmish, the British army fell back, all the way to Fort George at the northern end of the Niagara River. On November 5, as winter approached, General Izard blew up Fort Erie and re-crossed the Niagara River to go into winter quarters on the American side. Two days later, Andrew Jackson seized Pensacola from the Spanish and drove the British force out of the city. 8 War and Deception

While military operations unfolded in Canada, the Great Lakes, and the Mississippi Territory, the diplomatic war also heated up. Between the time of the Russian proposal to mediate talks between Britain and the United States and the British rejection of that proposal, a strange intrigue played out, first in St. Petersburg and then in London and Washington. Bayard and Gallatin had departed the United States on May 9, 1813, for their seventy-three-day voyage to Russia. When they arrived on July 21, the British had already rejected the proposal, but Count Romanzoff kept that rejection a secret from the Americans. He had proposed submitting it again for reconsideration, thinking perhaps it would be accepted. But because of Russian internal posturing and maneuvering by rivals seeking to improve their political positions or favor with the czar, the resub- mission was never put into the hands of the British, even though they had, on several occasions, communicated that it would not be in their best interests to commit to such an arrangement. But Romanzoff kept the Americans in the dark about the finality of the British rejection, holding out hope for a change of mind; and the Americans remained unaware of those intrigues and sat for six months waiting for the answer that would never come. Finally, on January 26, 1814, Gallatin and Bayard had had enough and departed St. Petersburg for Amsterdam. In March they received permission to enter London to meet with Castlereagh to perhaps initiate a plan for direct talks,1 and they arrived there on April 9. But whatever thoughts they might have had to bring about peace negotiations were trumped by the celebrations that spilled out into the streets over the apparent defeat of Napoleon; and the resulting clamor was not for peace but to punish the wayward Americans.2

169 170 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

They also discovered that the British had not even appointed commissioners for the anticipated talks during the three months that the United States had been working to assemble its own team; in addition, the British government had suddenly deemed that Gothenburg was no longer suitable as an alternate neutral site, even through two of the American negotiators had already traveled there.3 Henry Clay favored a change to someplace in the Netherlands and ruled out London under any and all circumstances. The two sides finally agreed on the old capital of Flanders, the city of Ghent, situated halfway between Brussels and Antwerp.4 from the time of their appointments, it took six months for the widely scattered American negotiators—two in the States and three in Europe—to react to the British delays and course changes. On July 6, Albert Galla- tin became the final member of the five-man American team to arrive in Ghent. In actuality the Americans had been waiting for the British not just for six months, but for more than a year—from the time of Madison’s first acceptance of the Russian proposal to act as a mediator. But even now, after that long delay, the British foot-dragging continued. They did not appoint any ministers until May 17, and then promised that those ministers would leave Sweden for the negotiating table in Ghent around the first of July; but the first of July came and went, and still no British commissioners arrived. They did not arrive until August 6, even though it was a journey of only six hundred miles from Gothenburg to Ghent, and an even shorter sea voyage from London to Ghent, if speed had been a concern. Yet it took the British team five weeks from their announced departure date to arrive in that city—enough time to have sailed all the way to America. John Quincy Adams made the same trip from Gothenburg to Ghent in thirteen days, including leisure days and days waiting for horses for an overland stretch.5 It seemed obvious to the Americans that these new British delays were designed for the purpose of allowing time for military action to unfold into anticipated successes on the battlefields.6 When the British team finally arrived, the Americans perceived them as dour, abrupt, and anything but friendly, and John Quincy Adams noted, “The tone of all the British notes is arrogant, overbearing, and offensive.”7 in that spring of 1814, British success in Europe and posture among her European allies had reached its zenith. On March 31, Wellington and the emperor of Russia triumphantly entered Napoleon’s Paris as conquerors, and there was unabated jubilation in England that could have figuratively war and deception 171 been heard across the English Channel. That jubilation naturally turned to a penchant for the flexing of national muscle.I n celebrating their great victory, the British public voiced its opinion that it was time for John Bull to punish Jonathan—the British nickname for Americans. The newspapers printed that desire boldly and clearly, leaving no doubt as to British intentions to increase hostility against America. On April 15, the Times demanded that Jonathan should receive the same treatment that would be applied to a habitually mischievous child’s backside. “Let us have no cane of moderation,” it cried in anticipation of a severe spanking. No one was to be hated more than the wayward Americans, who had displayed “conduct so base, so loathsome, so hateful.” On May 13, 1814, the Courier called for extracting the full price of retribution for daring to wage war against the Crown. “America has rushed unnecessarily and unnaturally into war,” the editors said, “and she must be made to feel the effects of her folly, and injustice; peace must be the consequence of punishment, and retraction of her insolent demands must precede negotiations. The thunders of our cannon must first strike terror into the American shores.”8 in this warlike atmosphere, the Americans were futilely attempting to set the stage for negotiations. In this orgy of published rancor, the press exposed the long-hidden burr under John Bull’s saddle. That thorn had cause the festering sore that was Britain’s outrage over American acquisitions of enormous tracts of strategic land, particularly the Louisiana Purchase. To the British, the Louisiana Purchase was an outright swindle. It had somehow cheated them out of the land to which they felt they had a proper claim. The Crown viewed the maneuverings of France in 1763, and those of Bonaparte in 1803, as collusions and sleights of hand that had brought about the expulsion of Britain from the rich colonies of North America and a devastating blow to their dominant empire. And the ownership of the immense tract of land of the Louisiana Purchase was a matter to be contested, as was the entire scheme of the acquisitions of the Floridas. The thief Bonaparte had sold something that he did not own; and the equally thieving Americans had bought his stolen goods. Referring to what they felt was a phony bill of sale for the Louisiana Purchase, the Times cried out, “Who cares about the impudence which they call a doctrine.9 We shall demand indemnity. . . . We shall inquire a little into the American title to Louisiana; and shall not permit the base attack on Florida to go unpunished.”10 172 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

one can almost sympathize with this British understanding, or misunderstanding, of Britain’s right to contest for this land. After all, it had been a Canadian, Alexander Mackenzie, who, fully twelve years before the Lewis and Clark expedition, had completed the first crossing of the entire North American continent. Mackenzie had actually made two treks. The first one, in 1789, found him losing his way as he traveled to the west. He somehow stumbled to the north, and when he finally beheld the ocean, it was not the Pacific, but the Arctic Ocean. On his second attempt, his expedition followed a trace, on a parallel track, well to the north of the future border of the United States; this time he remained on his westerly course and reached the Pacific Ocean—some three hundred miles north of the present-day United States. After this exhausting journey, he triumphantly mounted an enormous rock and announced to those gathered that he claimed the land for the Crown. Then in a broad hand, using a brush of paint, the young Canadian left his mark for all to see: “I now mix up some vermillion in melted grease,” he said, “and inscribe, in large characters . . . ‘Alexander Mackenzie, from Canada, by land, the twenty-second of July, one thousand seven hundred and ninety-three.’”11 he had achieved the ancient dream of the Northwest Passage, which had been sought after ever since Europeans first realized there was a North American continent. Most early exploration had been conducted by the French, until the British replaced them, and now it was the British that had found the route. Their claim in America extended across the Canadian Rockies from Atlantic to Pacific. But what about the land to the south? It belonged to Spain, since France had ceded it to her, lest it be lost to Britain in negotiations following France’s defeat in 1763. And Spain, now in the sunset of her day as an imperial power, was a weak possessor of this land and hardly able to defend it. So without guarded borders, intruders came and went at will, and the major intruders, doing the coming and going, were the British fur traders. They regularly came down into Louisiana, by land and on the Mis- sissippi River, to trade with the Indians, and that trade was at the expense of Spain’s ability to conduct her trade in her own territory. But all that changed when Spain suddenly bowed out of this international headache in 1803, and retroceded the land back to Bonaparte, who then sold it to the eager Americans to raise money to fight his war with Britain.12 Thus, in the enthusiasm of the fall of Napoleon in 1814, it was war and deception 173 now time for Britain to undo this entire tangled story, especially the illegal Louisiana scheme. This seemingly new British outrage unleashed against her prodigal colonists was actually not new at all. It had always simmered just below the surface, ever since 1783 and the end of the American Revolution. The Crown simply had never come to grips with the loss of her colonies. Nor had the government or its citizens been able to hide disdain for everything American. The animosity squeezed through the cracks at every opportunity. In Britain it was said of the Americans, “They have added nothing to literature, nothing to any of the sciences; they have not produced one good poet, not one celebrated historian!”13 Now this latest war had been brought about, in the British mind, by America’s “friendliness” toward France and Napoleon, and that friendliness, real or concocted, called for punishment of the United States for all her wrongs, and a final satisfying of the long-simmering animosity. That animus had always manifested itself in the rigidity of the British rules of citizenship: “Once an Englishman, always an Englishman.” You were never free to leave, and any attempt to leave was an act of treachery to be reckoned with at the proper time. It had become a major excuse in the entire rationalization of the morality of impressments, the issue that had led America to finally rebel against the outrage. Consider not only the impressment and kidnapping of naturalized American seamen on American ships, but later, the extraordinary arrests of Americans on the battlefield and the threat that they would be tried as traitors. Was that not further proof of this British failure to accept the loss of her American possessions? Few in the United States even knew of this threatened trial as traitors—a further violation of international law—until an unexpected letter of petition arrived from an American prisoner of war, Henry Kelly, confined in prison inE ngland not as a prisoner of war, but as a traitor. He had been captured in October 1812 at the Battle of Queenstown and had been separated from the other prisoners of war, along with twenty-two other Americans originally from the British dominions but now legalized naturalized citizens of the United States who had resided therein for many years. “We were taken on the 13th of October in Upper Canada,” said Kelly. “The reason of their sending us twenty-three here is, we were born in the British Dominions, though we are all citizens of the United States and have our wives and children there. We are all in a very miserable situation.”14 174 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

one of the men had a wife and five children, all born in the United States. War Secretary John Armstrong was outraged upon learning the details, and on May 15 he ordered General Dearborn to place twenty-three British soldiers in close confinement as hostages to guarantee the safe- keeping and restoration of these American soldiers. This triggered a tit-for-tat war of confining hostages; and Britain ordered double that number of Americans—forty-six—similarly confined and sent a warning note through General Prevost to General Wilkinson that “the [British] armies and fleets on the coast ofA merica have received instructions to prosecute the war with unmitigated severity against all cities, towns, and villages of the United States and the inhabitants thereof,”15 if any British soldier should be put to death as a hostage for one of the twenty-three seized American soldiers. The British seemed to reserve the right to try and execute the American soldiers because they had been proven traitors “voluntary bearing arms against [their] country.”16 Again it was British law trumping international law, a habit practiced in the whole impressment and ship-seizing rationalizations. Lieutenant Colonel W. Scott, who had also been captured with Henry Kelly at Queenstown, was marched, along with other prisoners, to a British ship and witnessed this separation of the men.

E very native born of the United Kingdoms . . . [was] sequestered and sent on board a ship of war then in that harbor . . . a few days thereafter sailed for England with those persons on board. I distinctly understood as well from the officers who came on board . . . that it was the determination of the British Government, as expressed through Sir George Prevost, to punish every man, whom it might subject to its powers, found in arms against the British King, contrary to his native allegiance.17

No British hostage held in retaliation for the confined Americans was ever executed, nor were confined Americans ever brought to trial as traitors; but the British threat to “prosecute the war with unmitigated severity,” was fully displayed in later attacks on the city of Hampton and the villages that they raided along the waters of the Chesapeake. And despite continued denials to the contrary that Americans were forced to fight against their own country, the capture of a British packet boat, Swallow, provided the damning proof that they were. On board Swal- low, an American boarding party found and confiscated two muster books: one detailed the crew of the warship Moselle, and the other the crew of war and deception 175

Sappho. Both revealed that fully one-eighth of both ships’ crews were composed of unwilling, impressed American sailors. Commodore Rodgers wrote, “If there is only a quarter of that proportion on board their other vessels, they have an infinitely greater number of Americans in their service than any American has yet had an idea of.”18

When Napoleon was exiled to Elba in the spring of 1814, a sizable Brit- ish force was immediately ordered to Canada as reinforcements for the American war. In July and August, upwards of 14,000 British troops from Wellington’s army arrived for the planned new offensive against the United States.19 It was to be an all-out offensive to first strike fromC anada through New York while diversionary attacks were to be carried out in the Chesa- peake Bay Theater. It was all to be done with vastly superior numbers to overwhelm any American opposition. Earlier, in February, Colonel Henry Torrens, military secretary to Lord Wellington, had written confidentially to Major General Sir George Mur- ray about his possibly taking command of one of the divisions of this new attacking army. In this letter Torrens told the general, “The government have determined to give Jonathan a good drubbing, and orders have been sent to Lord Wellington to prepare a corps of 12,000 infantry and a small detachment of cavalry to be sent to America.”20 To pave the way for this escalation in offensive action against the United States, and to not seem bent on expanding the war, and since the Crown had agreed to peace talks, Lord Liverpool employed his own deceptions. To justify this offensive, he sought to convince the British people that the new attack was necessary because America had a secret agenda of her own to annihilate the British way of life. Perhaps in his mind “annihilation” could be equated with America’s rise as a trade rival at sea, cutting into the previously unchallenged British domination of that trade. To him that was indeed a threat to British “existence,” but painting the United States as a national threat that was ready to overwhelm the Leviathan of the Deep was preposterous and a stretch by any standard. Nevertheless, he had to argue that national survival was at stake in order to initiate and justify his great escalation of offensive action. “We ought to consider the United States as the wanton and bitter enemies of our existence, and treat them accordingly,” he added.21 176 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

To make this tricky point, he was forced to become his own revisionist, and sought to “debunk” the causes that America had always listed were the provocations for war. Ignoring the twenty-year crusade that the United States had waged to try to free her impressed seamen and to stop the seizure of her ships, and ignoring the mountain of evidence documenting the course of that diplomatic crusade, Liverpool unabashedly asked the House of Lords, “Who could believe that the right of impressment was the actual cause?” If any of his audience thought his question was a bit tongue-in-cheek, his next proclamation proved that it was not. He declared that the whole maritime subject was “nothing,” and could have been solved by “amicable discussions.”22 could he possibly have expected anyone to forget the numerous entreaties made by a steady succession of American diplomats who had sought “amicable discussions” to solve this “controversy,” as he called it? Had not Jefferson and Madison often asked for these discussions and been routinely turned down by a succession of British ministers, including himself? Was it not the absolute refusal, on the part of the Crown, to suspend impressments and the Orders in Council that had been the damnable questions from the beginning? And had not Castlereagh admitted as much, in confidence, when he revealed that “no government” would ever abandon that position? Such was the nature of Liverpool’s deception and revision. His real intention was to defeat the United States by following his version of Na- poleon’s old plan to forever shackle the Americans, to eliminate them as rivals on the high seas, and to dictate land concessions after victory on the battlefield. He had set the negotiation table at Ghent and gathered the Americans to it, where he could dictate its pace. But he delayed sitting at it himself until his army had initiated an offensive on the battlefield.H e had embarked on a campaign of propaganda and political maneuvering to exploit all possi- bilities. Now he awaited a predictable, victorious outcome. All parts of the British war machine had been shifted into high gear. In June, War Secretary Lord Bathurst ordered Sir George Prevost to “commence offensive operations on the Enemy’s frontier before the close of the Campaign.”23 His immediate tasks were to secure Canada and then secure “His Majesty’s possessions in North America.” Bathurst’s letter detailed how to accomplish those two tasks: “The entire destruction of Sackets har- bour and the Naval Establishment on Lake Erie and Lake Champlain come under the first description. The maintenance ofF ort Niagara and so much war and deception 177 of the adjacent Territory as may be deemed necessary: and the occupation of Detroit and the Michigan Country come under the second.”24 Prevost was to take up an “advanced position on that part of our frontier that extends towards Lake Champlain.” The nature of this order seems to call into question the competency of Prevost as a commanding general, since the practice of good leadership calls for the “how to” part of the attack to be left to the discretion of the commander on the ground.25 But Prevost had shown a certain hesitancy toward aggressive action and a squeamishness to engage the enemy; therefore Bathurst most probably felt he had to spell it out. The Liverpool government, and War Secretary Bathurst, had also sought advice about launching this operation to bring about the defeat of the Americans. They consulted the victorious Wellington and actually offered him command of the army in North America. He declined but volunteered his thoughts, even though he warned the British leaders that he had never been to America and could only reconnoiter it on a map. “I have no means of obtaining information to enable me to form an opinion on which I could at all rely,” he said.

Any offensive operation founded on Canada must be preceded by the establishment of a naval superiority on the lakes. But even if we had that superiority, I should doubt our ability to do more than secure the points on those lakes at which the American could have access. . . . Then as to landings upon the coast, they are liable to the same objections, though to a greater degree than an offensive operation founded in Canada. . . . But I do not know where you could carry on such an operation which would be so injurious to the Americans as to force them to sue for peace, which one would wish to see.26

we must assume that Liverpool and Bathurst regarded his advice as important in planning the upcoming offensive in America, or they would not have asked him. But the fact is, they rejected it. Yet revisionism, seeking to convert “offensive” into “defensive,” contorts the meaning of “seeking advice” into Liverpool and Bathurst not understanding what Wellington said. According to revisionist logic, if they had understood, they would never have issued offensive orders. They point to Wellington’s words as evidence that the offensive orders issued in 1814 were actually defensive in nature because Wellington had recommended a defensive posture from the facts as he understood them. But the truth is that Liverpool and Bathurst ignored his advice, and the revisionists cannot bring themselves to grasp that fact. 178 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

But if one chooses to examine all of Wellington’s words, it all becomes very clear. He said that from his remote position he could not envision “an operation which would be so injurious to the Americans” as to cause surrender. But Liverpool and Bathurst obviously had envisioned such an operation—one that could indeed be “injurious”: an operation that they believed would capture a major American city, threaten Washington and the key members of the Madison government, cut a path deep into New York from the north, secure Detroit and the Michigan and Niagara Peninsulas, and seize parts of Florida, the Mississippi River, and New Orleans. Would that not cause major injury? And the culminating attack of the campaign, against New Orleans, would bring about the final solution of theM ississippi River and the Louisiana Purchase that had nagged the Crown for fifty years! Had Wellington been privy to the “injurious” nature of this planned offensive, he might have advised differently, but regardless of Wellington’s opinions, one must concede that the success of such a bold operation would be a blow the magnitude of which might cause an American demise. And obviously Liverpool and Bathurst felt the same. The revisionists’ main tool to change “offensive” to “defensive” was the magic wand of the illogical argument. Faced with this daunting task, they venture upon the path of the most illogical of arguments: Bathurst had indeed issued offensive operation orders to Prevost and had also solicited the advice of Wellington prior to issuing those orders; and since Wellington, from his remote position, could not envision a situation warranting the offensive, he had recommended a defensive posture. Since Bathurst obviously valued Wellington’s advice, revisionists seize the opportunity to declare that Prevost’s orders must have actually been to go on the defensive! It is as illogical as declaring that since neither black nor white is a color, then black must be white!

The very same month that Prevost received his offensive orders, Admiral Alexander Cochrane arrived in Bermuda to replace Admiral John Warren, and he carried with him his own offensive orders—dating from January 25, 1814. Upon taking command, the admiral made perfectly clear his profound disdain for the Americans; he compared them to dogs needing discipline. “They are a whining canting race much like the spaniel and require the same treatment—[they] must be drubbed into good manners.”27 war and deception 179

cochrane began by actively attempting to recruit 2,000 Indians to sup- plement his force that he said would “give to Gt. Britain the Command of that Country—and New Orleans.” Again, the whole focus was New Orleans. He looked forward to fighting theA mericans and giving “them a complete drubbing before peace is made—when I trust their Northern limit will be circumscribed and the Command of the Mississippi wrested from them.”28 What could be clearer concerning the British intentions? But despite common knowledge of the constant British presence in the Chesapeake area, there was little alarm among members of the Madison government that the enemy would ever attempt to land and make a move on Washington. The entire Washington defense consisted of a company of marines in their barracks in the city, and one company of artillery at Fort Washington along the Potomac. Adding to this political and intellectual lethargy was the attitude of Secretary Armstrong himself, who could not be convinced that the Capital was a lucrative and strategic target, even if only for its propaganda value and the paralyzing of the American government. That it should be regarded as an obviously tempting target did not impress Armstrong, and the argument fell on his deaf ears. He believed that Balti- more was the target and was heard to ask, concerning Washington, “What the devil would they do here?”29 on August 16, the British arrived in the Chesapeake in force. The usually small blockade squadron was suddenly joined by Admiral Cochrane’s fleet of twenty-one ships, and that number swelled to many more when yet another squadron under Commodore Charles Malcolm also sailed in. Cochrane’s force carried several thousand landing troops, commanded by General Robert Ross, and suddenly the Chesapeake seemed like the home port for the British fleet. Two task forces immediately formed within the confines of those waters. One sailed up the Potomac River toward Washington, while the other went up the Chesapeake toward Baltimore.30 on August 18, a third force of 5,000 men, under the command ofA dmiral Cockburn and General Ross, made a third penetration up the Patuxent River and two days later landed at the town of Benedict—forty-five miles below Washington. Its announced objective was to find and destroy a small flotilla of American boats that had been the only American defense in the Chesapeake Bay and had been an enormous annoyance to the British blockading fleet. Commanded by Commodore Joshua Barney, this small American flotilla of twenty open rowboats, each with a long gun in the bow and a shorter- 180 the war of 1812, conflict and deception ranged carronade in the stern, was mostly powered by oars pulled by up to sixty men.31 Barney had conducted daring raids on the British blockade ships, always hitting and running back up the Patuxent River to the safety of its shallow waters, to the total frustration of the British. Now, Admiral Cockburn was after Barney and his aggravating force; he had sailed his fleet as far as the shallow river allowed and disembarked General Ross’s army to march on by land along the shore. But Cockburn was not looking for Barney alone. He had larger visions of glory. Since his mission would take him well along the path toward Washington, he would have the opportunity to launch a daring attack on the Capital after finishing off Barney. Cockburn’s flotilla of barges moved parallel on the river to the marching troops advancing by land. On the 22nd, the British approached Barney’s force, twenty-five miles above Benedict, stretched out along the river.A d- miral Cockburn relished the moment to finally destroy his opposing “fleet” that had given him so much trouble. Barney’s vessels hardly could be compared with the British fleet at anchor miles down the river.I n comparison they were comical, nothing more than large barges, propelled by oars and flimsy sails.

A s we opened the reach above Pig Point, I plainly discovered Commodore Barney’s broad pendant in the headmost vessel, a large sloop and the remainder of the flotilla extending in a long line stern of her. Our boats now advanced towards them as rapidly as possible, but on nearing them, we observed the sloop bearing the broad pendant to be on fire, and she very soon afterwards blew up. I now saw clearly that they were all abandoned and on fire with trains32 to their magazines, and out of the seventeen vessels which composed this formidable and so much vaunted flotilla sixteen were in quick succession blown to atoms, and the seventeenth, in which the fire had not taken, was captured.33

having accomplished his objective, Cockburn should have withdrawn to the covering force of his ships, but his moment was now at hand, and the allure to attack Washington was overwhelming. He sent a report back to Cochrane, including a deceptive note that not he, but General Ross, was “determined . . . to push on toward Washington. . . . I shall accompany him and of course afford him every assistance in my power.”34 when Cochrane got the message, he immediately sent orders back to Cockburn to cancel his plans and return. His raid on Washington might war and deception 181 cost more in men and materiel than he could afford and could jeopardize the British ability to sustain a sufficient army in the field to conduct the planned winter attack on New Orleans. When those new orders arrived at Cockburn’s and Ross’s camp, the two men were sleeping, but as soon as Ross read the order, he planned to turn around. Cockburn, however, was not to be denied. He took the general for a short walk, out of earshot of anyone else, and explained, cajoled, and pleaded that they were too far down the road to abandon this mission. Although he was the senior officer, it was General Ross who had the final say on the ground, but he listened to the admiral’s pleas. “If we return without striking a blow, it will be worse than defeat,” Cock- burn argued. “Let us now push on so far as to feel their strength, at any rate, and if circumstances require it, we can fall back to our shipping.”35 With that assurance, Ross agreed, and the men reportedly gave three cheers; and so they were off on their grand adventure to Washington. As Ross’s army moved on the road to Washington, a frantic James Mon- roe wrote President Madison, “The enemy are advanced . . . our troops are retiring. General Winder proposes to retire until he can collect them in a body. The enemy are in full march to Washington. Have the materials prepared to destroy the bridges. P.S. You better remove the records.”36 on the 23rd, the British approached the city of Bladensburg, north of the Capital, and General Winder attempted to place his militia forces to sit astride the main road leading to it. That evening the enemy was on his doorstep and only six miles from Washington. Winder deployed his force of 5,000 in three defensive lines behind the East Branch of the Potomac River and the small bridge that crossed it. The British would have to force across the bridge, which was so narrow that only three men could walk abreast; but the small river branch, which the bridge crossed, was fordable, especially in the low water of the blistering summer months. On the 24th, President Madison and his attorney general mounted their horses to ride toward the site of the expected battle. The British army entered the battlefield about noon, from the northeast, and pushed through the town toward the river and the small bridge. They fired theirC ongreve rockets as they moved forward, but when they marched into artillery range, the Americans opened fire, and the shock of that cannonade drove them back into the town for cover. But seasoned veterans recover quickly, and they reformed, rushed back into the attack on the double-quick, and approached the critically important bridge. 182 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

again they tried to force the bridge, and when they were massed on the channelizing structure, American artillery and well-aimed rifle and musket fire cut them down and stalled the attack. But, as if they were on the drill field, the British attackers again reformed and, despite heavy casualties, either forded the stream, or pushed across the bridge, and smashed into Winder’s first defensive line, forcing it to collapse and fall back into the second. It wasn’t long until they had they bulled their way into the Americans’ second and third defensive lines, and soon they outflanked the entire position. The panicked defenders began to withdraw, some in panic, running from the field, as militia are too often prone to do in the face of a determined attack by regulars. They had withstood the attack for four hours but could not hold off Ross’s steady attack and eventually lost the day. They had suffered 26 killed and 51 wounded.37 secretary Armstrong, who had been so wrong about where the British might attack, was unfortunately so very right when he predicted to Presi- dent Madison the results of a British engagement—in a contest between regulars and militia, the Americans would lose. Despite significantly higher casualties—over 500, the British regulars had won, and now the road to Washington lay wide open.38 ross wasted little time continuing the march on Washington. Many of his units had suffered heavily, but he marshaled his reserves who had not been engaged and moved them on the road to Washington. In the Capital, the booming of the cannons that opened the battle at Bladensburg had been heard, announcing the proximity of peril. At the President’s House, a worried Dolley Madison wrote to her sister Anna Cutts: “I have been turning my spy glass in every direction and watching with unwearied anxiety hoping to discern the approach of my dear husband and his friends, but alas, I can descry only groups of military wandering in all directions as if there was a lack of arms or of spirit to fight for their own fireside.39 But by three o’clock, she realized her worst fears when messengers sent from the president himself arrived in great panic. American defeat seemed imminent, and she was in great danger. She finished her letter: M“ r. Madi- son comes not. May God protect him! Two messengers covered in dust, come and bid me fly, but I wait for him. . . . I insist on waiting until the large picture of General Washington is secured, and it requires to be un- screwed from the wall.”40 she had packed many valuables in her carriage and sent it away to a Maryland bank to keep it out of British hands. The full-length portrait of war and deception 183

George Washington would have been a prized souvenir for the invading British, and there was no time to unscrew it from the wall, so she had the heavy main frame broken to remove the canvas and stretcher. As it was placed it on the floor,D olley Madison hurried past it carrying the signed Declaration of Independence and gave her last instructions before fleeing to Virginia. “Save that picture if possible; if not possible, destroy it; under no circumstances allow it to fall into the hands of the British.”41 at eight o’clock in the evening of the 24th, the British arrived in Wash- ington. General Ross, Admiral Cockburn, and 200 soldiers rode into the heart of the city near the Capitol, leaving the army on the outskirts. They were unopposed except for a series of musket shots fired from behind a building that killed one man and Ross’s horse. In short order that building was attacked and torched. Cockburn’s raiding force moved on, and soon fires from the Capitol, the President’s House, the Treasury Building, the Arsenal, and a barracks for 3,000 soldiers sent flames licking into the skies that could be seen from Baltimore, forty miles distant. The only public buildings to escape the torch were the Patent Office and the Marine Bar- racks. The Americans themselves ignited the Navy Yard lest it fall into British hands. When Cockburn found the building of the National Intelli- gencer, he took personal charge to see that it was torn down, all the presses destroyed, and everything flammable thrown into the street and burned.42 The scene of Washington burning created a lasting vision in the mind of Lieutenant George Gleig of the British Eighty-Fifth Light Infantry. “The sky was brilliantly illumined by the different conflagrations; and a dark red light was thrown upon the road sufficient to permit each man to view distinctly his comrade’s face. Except for the burning of San Sebastian’s, I do not recollect to have witnessed . . . a scene more striking or more sublime.”43 major Harry Smith, deputy adjutant general to General Ross, said, “We entered Washington for the barbarous purpose of destroying the city. Ad- miral Cockburn would have burnt the whole, but Ross would only consent to the burning of the public buildings.”44 so rapid had been the British advance that when their advanced party entered the President’s House, they found a table laid with forty place set- tings, and the supper was still warm. “We were horrified at the order to burn the elegant Houses of Parlia- ment and the President’s house,” said Major Smith. I shall never forget the destructive majesty of the flames as the torches were applied to beds, curtains, etc. Our sailors were artists at the work.”45 184 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

at eight o’clock in the evening, on August 25, twenty-four hours after they had arrived, the British army silently departed the city while Wash- ington citizens were confined to their houses under an eight o’clock curfew. The surrounding British campfires blazed brightly to disguise their withdrawal, perhaps because they feared an American ambush; and they left so quietly that many citizens did not know they were gone, even on the following day.46 “Not a word was spoken,” said Lieutenant Gleig, “nor a single individual permitted to step one inch out of his place, and thus they passed along the streets perfectly unnoticed, and cleared the town without any alarm given.”47 The British withdrawal passed back through Bladensburg, where the dead still lay, completely stripped of anything of value and ashen in de- composition; and they pressed on, each step finding men straggling in a state of complete exhaustion. By seven o’clock the following morning, they could not take another step and stopped for a rest, and each man collapsed where he stood. “The entire army,” said Lieutenant Gleig, “resembled a heap of dead bodies on a field, rather than living men.”48 on September 1, the army, now rested from their Washington venture, moved onto their original landing beaches at Benedict and re-embarked on waiting ships for their next movement. In the history of any army, there is little to compare to the overwhelmingly successful raid on Washington. With little preparation, Ross’s and Cockburn’s forces had secretly landed in enemy territory; destroyed a vital part of its navy; moved to engage and then defeat that enemy’s army; captured its capital city and set it aflame; made a successful withdrawal, thereby limiting its exposure to possible attack; and subdued an adjacent city and made off with all its ships and valuable stores. While Washington burned, Captain James Gordon had maneuvered his squadron up the Potomac River, overcoming shallow waters, grinding shoals that stopped each vessel twenty times, and even the hurricane-force winds of a surprise storm, to arrive at the defenseless city of Alexandria on August 29. Positioned menacingly near the wharfs, he negotiated to spare the town its destruction in return for supplies and prize ships; and since the townspeople had no other choice, Gordon sailed off with twenty-one prize ships, each “stuffed with tobacco, wine, sugar, and other goods.”49 Despite desperate attempts by the Americans to attack Gordon’s flotilla along its obstacle-stopping descent of the Potomac River, he emerged, on Septem- ber 9, with all his ships and booty, and the British Chesapeake offensive war and deception 185 was over. Their attack had been wildly successful, and Cockburn’s lust to strike the Americans at their very heart had produced a spectacular victory. Could this attack have been prevented, or at the very least confronted with a more determined defense? The element of surprise is one of the sacred principles of war, and when one side pulls it off, critics look to de- ficiencies on the other side to explain what in hindsight seems obvious. Hindsight has deemed Pearl Harbor to have been obvious, as well as Nor- mandy and the Battle of the Bulge. But surprise exists only in the time it happens, not in hindsight. In these other examples, there was much planning, correspondence, and maneuvering in conjunction with the actual attacks, which, if compromised, might have revealed the plan. In the case of the British attack on Washington, none of that existed. It was all in the mind of one man—Admiral Cockburn. It was his idea, and his insistence on that idea, even in the face of direct orders from his superior to abandon it, that makes the attack so remarkable. What drove Cockburn to do it is immaterial, and focusing on that motivation distracts from the actual event. Had he failed and lost his army, it is certain that he and General Ross would have had to pay a terrible price. Maybe even a sentence like that given to the American General Hull—to be shot! But he did not fail, and the real success of the whole operation lies not in its initiation, but in the lack of response on the part of the Americans. In the examples of attacks conducted in World War II, there was credible circumstantial evidence that something was up. At Pearl Harbor and in the Ardennes Forest, there were intercepted messages and partial intelligence that hinted at the surprise attacks. At Normandy, the Germans also ignored lots of light leaking from under the shroud of secrecy. The British plan to move on Washington was completely secret, since there was no plan to leak. Despite the obvious importance of the target and the proximity of the enemy, was it not Secretary of War Armstrong himself who had famously asked, “What the devil would they do here?” A secret known by one man is absolute, but when revealed to another, it is not secure; and presumably Admiral Cockburn had confided, only with his closest associates, his desire to embark on this mission if presented with the opportunity. But even that sliver of information, through an untrace- able maze, somehow found its way to Secretary Armstrong’s office—but was ignored. On July 27, three weeks before the British landing, an anonymous note arrived, addressed to President James Madison; after the burning of Wash- 186 the war of 1812, conflict and deception ington, it was found in War Department files. Its repository suggests that the president never saw it but that Armstrong might have, since it was in his offices.W hether he saw it or not is unknown; but his unwavering opinion that Washington was not a target might have caused him to ignore it. And who would have written such a note? Could the originator have been an impressed American seaman on one of Cochrane’s ships, listening to the scuttlebutt that must have circulated in conversations? And might he somehow have become aware of Cockburn’s secret and, at the risk of certain death, written and smuggled out his warning to the president? If not, was it a well-connected British traitor who wrote:

Y our enemy have in agitation an attack on the capital of the United States. The manner in which they intend doing it is to take the advantage of a fair wind in ascending the Patuxent; and after having ascended it a certain distance, to land their men at once, and to make all possible dispatch to the capital; batter it down, and then return to their vessels immediately. In doing this there is calculated to be employed upward of seven thousand men. The time of this designed attack I do not know. (Signed) Friend.50

on September 4, hounded by cries for his dismissal from both the press and fellow officers,S ecretary Armstrong bitterly resigned. Madison appointed James Monroe to be acting secretary of war.51

From the luxury of his quarters on board his flagshipTonnant, Vice Admiral Cochrane penned his glowing report to First Secretary of the Admiralty John Croker:

The whole of the Enemy’s Flotilla under Commodore Barney has been captured or destroyed—his Army, tho’ greatly superior in number and strongly posted with Cannon, defeated at Bladensburg; the City of Washington taken—the Capitol with all the public buildings, Military Arsenals, Dock Yard and the rest of their Naval Establishment, together with a vast quantity of Naval and Military Stores, a Frigate of the largest Class, ready to launch, and a Sloop of War afloat, either blown up or reduced to Ashes.52

on September 27, Lord Liverpool received that report, and lost no time writing his own letter to both Wellington and Lord Castlereagh. Who could not understand his jubilation as he penned his victory letter from the com- war and deception 187 fort of Fife House in Whitehall?53 On his desk was a British newspaper with glorious headlines and details.

I have sent to you the Extraordinary Gazette of this day, with the very satisfactory account of the operations of our army and navy upon the coast of America, by the destruction of the American flotilla, and the capture and occupation for a time of the city of Washington. . . . Sir A. Cochrane, General Ross, and Admiral Cockburn . . . intend, on account of the season . . . to occupy Rhode Island, where they propose remaining and living upon the country until about the 1st of November. They will then proceed again southward, destroy Baltimore . . . occupy several important points on the coast of Georgia and of the Carolinas, take possession of Mobile in the Floridas, and close the campaign with an attack upon New Orleans.54

liverpool’s words should shatter any revisionist’s lingering confusion concerning the meaning of offensive and defensive operations. Concerning the Canadian operation, Liverpool wrote: “In the mean time, we hope Sir James Yeo will be able to establish his superiority on Lake Ontario, and that Sir George Prevost . . . will succeed in his attack upon Sackett’s Harbor and upon Plattsburgh on Lake Champlain . . . and that the Canadian frontier will thus be rendered secure.”55

On September 3, 1814, more than 10,000 British troops crossed the Canadian border to face a reported 3,500-man American force in front of Plattsburg in New York.56 It was to be the main offensive. The British plan had been to attack first in the Chesapeake to hopefully draw militia away from the northern border. The Americans had erected three hastily constructed forts on the peninsula that was formed at the confluence ofL ake Champlain and the River Saranac; and they frantically dug in to confront the British attack. To field such a formidable army, Prevost might have had an insurmountable task to find enough provisions to keep it in the field, but his problem was eliminated by the Americans themselves, especially the Americans of New England, who not only refused to fight inM r. Madison’s War but were actively engaged in providing food, supplies, and materiel to the enemy in order to defeat their fellow countrymen. On July 21, Major General Izard had written to the secretary of war, bitterly complaining that “an open disregard prevails for the laws prohibiting 188 the war of 1812, conflict and deception intercourse with the enemy.” This disregard was not limited to a few smuggling activities, but encompassed an enormous supply line consisting of “droves of cattle and river rafts, destined for the enemy. . . . Like herds of buffaloes, they press through the forest, making paths for themselves.” 57 in General Izard’s mind, the British would have long since been defeated and their armies withdrawn from the field: W“ ere it not for these supplies, the British forces in Canada would soon be suffering from famine, or their government be subjected to enormous expense for their maintenance.” 58 General Prevost had even written to Lord Bathurst that he planned his invasion route to avoid Vermont, since Vermont had shown opposition to the war and was providing the “whole of the Cattle required for the use of the Troops.”59 on September 6, over 8,000 men of that 10,000-man British army, fed and sustained by traitorous Americans, approached on the opposite side of the river in two columns. There was confidence in their step, and they could see no resistance to their front; but a small contingent of 280 Americans had crossed the river and occupied a concealed forward position. As the British approached, and when their left column was exposed to the Ameri- can sights, they unleashed a volley of musket fire. The British deployed and the Americans remained to their front, continuing to fire, and then slowly fell back, step by step while keeping up an annoying resistance.60 Their retreat backed them up a small hill, where they took up a position behind a low stone wall and fought furiously, forcing the superior British column to temporarily fall back. And when the attack resumed, the small American group again retreated and joined up with two artillery pieces coming up to assist. These guns were placed, again unseen by the advancing British, so that the massed enemy lines would pass in front of the cannons with their vulnerable flank exposed to enfilade fire. On came the deployed British formation and indeed passed in front of the guns with its exposed flank presented to the guns, and theA mericans opened fire; their balls and grapeshot cut great gaps in the British lines, but although stunned, that red line did not falter or stop, and the soldiers dropped their packs and fixed bayonets. The Americans fell back to Plattsburg, re- crossed the river to their original positions on the peninsula, and destroyed the bridge behind them. The day ended with Sir George Prevost’s army having suffered the loss of 200 men compared to 45 for the Americans.61 for the next five days, both sides stared across the river at each other and prepared to continue the fight; and the British squadron moved its war and deception 189

Battle of Lake Champlain. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. ships, which were in Lake Champlain, up to support as needed. The nearby American navy, under the command of Master Commandant Thomas Mac- donough, was anchored in Plattsburg Bay, waiting for any British movement. With six ships and ten gunboats, he was positioned to assist the entrenched American force, now reinforced with militia. They were now almost 4,500 strong. The British planned a combined naval and infantry assault to be triggered by the arrival of the British flotilla of four ships and twelve gunboats. They would sail into Plattsburg Bay; but Macdonough had skillfully placed his ships across the entrance to the bay, and when the British ships rounded the point of land at the bay’s entrance, they were greeted with devastating broadsides against their bows. The British fleet recovered from this initial shock of fire and began maneuvering to engage theA merican ships. For almost two and a half hours, a fearsome battle of broadsides ensued. The townspeople in Vermont were able to watch it from a vantage point along the shoreline. The climax of the battle found the two flagships 190 the war of 1812, conflict and deception fittingly pitted in a final duel. Neither Macdonough’s flagship, Saratoga, which had twice been set aflame, nor the British flagshipConfiance had any masts left with which to maneuver; both could alter their positions only by hauling on the spring lines from their anchors. “Our masts, yards, and sails were so shattered that one looked like so many bundles of matches, and the other like a bundle of rags,” wrote a British sailor.” Commodore Macdonough wrote, “there was not a mast in either squadron that could stand to make sail on; the lower rigging, being nearly all shot away, hung down as if it had just been placed over the mast-heads.”62 The crew of Saratoga won the backbreaking battle to maneuver their ship by hand, furiously hauling on lines that slowly swung the larboard guns to bear against the struggling Confiance. The point-blank broadside smashed into the British flagship and shattered whatever was left of masts, guns, crew, and rigging and forced her to strike her colors; in quick succession, so did the remaining ships of the British flotilla. A little past noon, the Battle of Lake Champlain was over.63 midshipman William Lee, on board HMS Confiance, described his shattering experience in the broadside-to-broadside duel.

There is one of the marines who was in the Trafalgar action with Lord Nel- son, who says it was a mere flea-bite in comparison with this. . . . I don’t think there are more than five of our men, out of three hundred, but what are killed and wounded. Never was a shower of hail so thick as the shot whistling about our ears. Were you to see my jacket, waistcoat, and trousers, you would be astonished to know how I escaped as I did, for they are literally torn to rags with shot and splinters.64

The British had not gained control of the lake but had been swept from it. The American loss was 52 killed and 58 wounded; the British had more than 200 casualties.

After the successful British raid on Washington, Admiral Cochrane’s combined British army and navy team moved to its next exploit. The entire operation was designed to carry the war to the population, total war, a tactic often used to make the people demand from their leaders an end to hostilities.65 war and deception 191

On August 6, three weeks before the British army burned Washington, the British negotiating team had arrived to meet the Americans in Ghent. Ringing in their ears were the demands of their citizens as expressed in their newspapers. On May 2, 1814, the London Times revealed the British mind-set: “Our demands may be couched in a single word—Submission.” Concocted revisionist histories, reporting that the British were weary of war and wanted peace, are shattered by this newsprint of the day. “There are points to be conceded by America before we can put an end to the contest,” screamed the Courier. Those points of concession included these: that Americans relinquish fishing rights, granted to them in the 1783 treaty, allowing them to fish inC anadian waters; the recovery of Louisiana in the name of Spain; and the absolute right of Britain to impress.66 That final point was indeed in their written instructions from Lord Castlereagh on July 28. “The British Government can never recede from the principle of holding their own subjects to their duty.”67 from Canada’s Gazette came other demands: that the United States surrender the northern part of New York and both banks of the hotly contested Niagara River. Maine would be ceded, and all the associated fisheries would be the property of the Crown. On May 24, the Times continued its shouts for vengeance. “Mr. Madi- son’s dirty, swindling manoeuvers in respect to Louisiana and the Floridas remain to be punished.” Castlereagh’s demands had nothing to do with addressing the causes of the war. Most peace talks normally are expected to address the grievances that began the conflict. But on the main issue of impressments, nothing had changed except for a tiny sliver of flexibility thatC astlereagh included in his long-repeated proclamations regarding impressments. If the Americans would “desist from their extravagant pretensions” concerning impressments, perhaps something could be “devised to relieve their difficulties as to the past.” Perhaps something could be worked out in the cases where a British subject “may have actually and bona fide entered among them.” Maybe the Americans could propose regulations that might “check abuse.”68 castlereagh recognized that the subject was most likely an impasse, but maybe the impressment discussion could be waived, “if other points can 192 the war of 1812, conflict and deception be adjusted.” If that was agreeable, “the British Government will have no objection, considering the question to be practically set at rest by the return of peace.”69 castlereagh’s tactics and instructions dealing with the subject of impressments were threefold: first, to ignore the subject if theA mericans did not bring it up; second, if they did bring it up, to repeat the long-standing refrain justifying the practice; and third, should they offer any “specific proposition,” to declare that the negotiators had no authority to negotiate the proposition and could only forward it back to the government. But the most important item that the British brought to the negotiating table was a complete surprise—never contended to have been a cause of war and, like impressments, never suggested for redress by the outcries of the British journals of the time. It was the subject of Britain’s warring allies, the Indians: “An adequate arrangement of their interests is considered . . . as a sine qua non of peace.”70 Literally, “without which nothing.” No other subject bore the “sine qua non” label. Even the British entrenched argument over impressments had been allowed the slightest wiggle room, and there was an expressed hint that maybe it could all be set aside and perhaps would die its own death after peace. But suddenly, Indian affairs had vaulted to the top of the peace talks as the most important British demand; and without the Americans submitting to that demand, there was no possibility of peace!71 9 The Grand Offensive

Baltimore is situated on the Patapsco River, ten miles inland from the Chesapeake Bay and forty miles from Washington. In 1814, its forty-five thousand citizens made it the third-largest city in the United States. Its narrow water entrance was guarded by Fort McHenry. If there was ever a target that the Crown lusted for, it was Baltimore. The city had outfitted, and sent to sea, a flotilla of privateers that had wreaked havoc and turmoil on the entire British naval effort and had plundered and sunk upwards of five hundred British ships. The citizens of Baltimore knew they were “marked men” if the British could ever mount an effort against them. Admiral Warren had proclaimed of Baltimore, “It is a doomed town,” and the London newspapers did not spare the city from its editorial insults. “The American navy must be annihilated; his arsenals and dockyards must be consumed, and the truculent inhabitants of Baltimore must be tamed with the weapons which shook the wooden turrets of Copenhagen.”1 The remnants of the defeated army from Bladensburg that stumbled into the city did not add any confidence to the panicked population. Hav- ing seen the power of the British army, General William Winder pledged his support in fighting with the rest of his fellow Americans, but he said, “I am positively sure we shall not succeed.” Another said that the only way to save Baltimore and the entire state, was “to capitulate.”2 Baltimore went on a crash program to strengthen her defenses under the command of sixty-two-year-old Major General Samuel Smith. Citizens dug pits and fortifications and barriers; and arriving militia from other states were drilled from dawn dusk. Smith was quick to tell them what he expected and that he didn’t want any more “Bladensburg Races.”3 The

193 194 the war of 1812, conflict and deception entire environs of Baltimore were transformed into a bristling defensive bastion. The British fleet sailed in the confines ofC hesapeake Bay, first one way and then the other. Lieutenant Gleig said, “The object of this maneuvering was evidently to deceive the enemy, and by keeping him in suspense as to the place threatened, to prevent his concentrating his forces, or throwing up works for its defence.”4 as the British fleet passed Annapolis, the townspeople ran from their houses, “carts and waggons loaded with furniture . . . and horsemen galloping along the shore, as if watching the fearful moment when the boats should be hoisted out.”5 Invasion was at hand! Alarm cannons were fired at every town seeing the fleet pass, and messengers galloped to Baltimore. On September 11, the massive fleet of fifty ships carrying more than 6,000 invaders approached the mouth of the Patapsco River. General Ross had commented that since the campaign season was growing short, he would make Baltimore his winter quarters.6 when the fleet approached North Point, still twelve miles from the city, it stopped. “It was determined to land here,” said Gleig, “as no one could guess what impediments might be thrown in the way to obstruct the navigation.”7 it would be a two-pronged attack. While the army proceeded by land, the navy would continue upriver to attack Fort McHenry and bombard the city. Each soldier was given three days’ rations, and his normal ammunition allotment was increased from sixty to eighty rounds. This was to be a short, furious fight; only the bare necessities of a blanket, a spare shirt, and extra shoes were to be carried by the invaders—and every man slept in his clothes, ready to be called away to the landing boats.8 lieutenant Gleig said, “The stir and noise of equipping, and then the calmness and stillness of expectation, these are the things which force a man to think.” 9 On board HMS Surprise, Captain Edward Codrington noted, “The work of destruction is now to begin, and there will probably be many broken heads tonight. . . . I do not like to contemplate scenes of blood and destruction; but my heart is deeply interested in the coercion of these Baltimore heroes, who are perhaps the most inveterate against us of all the Yankees.”10 at two o’clock in the morning, the creaking of ropes and tackle lowering invasion boats into the water was the only sound heard. On the water, the boats assembled by divisions and approached the shore, led by one boat with a carronade in its bow as a defense against a contested landing. But the grand offensive 195 there was none, and the troops landed and quickly formed in a nearby field.H aving made the march to Washington, General Ross’s force of 4,700 deployed in a similar fashion and, a little after seven o’clock, began their march.11 Ross had no way of knowing as he landed that General Prevost’s army, invading New York, had already been hurled back at Plattsburg. After an hour’s march, the head of the British column came to some unfinished American defensive positions, alerting the soldiers that their adversaries might be close by. As they paused, a flanking patrol brought in three American prisoners, who had been surprised and captured at their outpost, and hustled them off to General Ross’s headquarters, located in an American farmhouse. Ross quizzed them, and they reported that 20,000 men were dug in for the defense of Baltimore. But Ross did not believe their numbers, since there would have been great motivation for them to exaggerate. The general finally asked if they were militia, and not regulars, and when the prisoners told him they were militia, Ross breathed a sigh of relief and said he didn’t care “if it rains militia.”12 The British column moved on for another hour and was now halfway between the landing spot at North Point and Baltimore, when a skirmish broke out to the front. American general Samuel Smith, upon learning of the British landing, sent his own 3,000-man force of Maryland militia, under the command of General John Stricker, to block the approach to the city, and it was they who now engaged the arriving British column. The British main body had straggled somewhat behind their vanguard and now hurried to close the gap. Ross and Cockburn rode forward to hurry everyone along. “We had advanced about Five Miles,” said Cockburn.

The General and myself being with the advanced Guard observed a Division of the Enemy Posted at a turning of the Road. . . . A sharp Fire was almost immediately opened upon us from it, and as quickly returned with considerable Effect by our advanced Guard which pressing steadily forward soon obliged the Enemy to run off . . . leaving behind him several Men Killed and Wounded; but . . . in this Short and desultory Skirmish my gallant and highly valued Friend the Major General received a Musquet Ball through his arm into his Breast which proved fatal.13

Although Ross lingered for a while, that evening, his flag-draped body was returned to the fleet.14 as the entire British column moved past where General Ross had been laid on the side of the road under a canopy made of blankets, “all eyes were 196 the war of 1812, conflict and deception turned upon him as we passed,” said Lieutenant Gleig, “and a sort of in- voluntary groan ran from rank to rank, from the front to the rear of the column.”15 at 2:30, the British column approached the blockading Americans and fired their noisy Congreve rockets. But the Americans had heard about these weapons; were not frightened and did not break and run. At 2:45 the deployed British line was ready, and Admiral Cockburn and Colonel George Brooke (replacing Ross) rode up and down the line encouraging the men. Brooke was finally satisfied and gave the signal. Instantly every bugle in the army echoed its notes across the battlefield, and the long red lines advanced. The Americans waited and watched in awe as that line approached in perfect order, and when the artillery had determined it was close enough, the American guns unleashed a devastating volley of “grape shot.” “Old locks, pieces of broken muskets, and every thing which they could cram into their guns, was now sent forth from the whole of the enemy’s artillery,”16 said Gleig. The British line continued through the cannon volley and approached within one hundred yards of the crouched Americans. Neither side had at any time yelled out nor uttered one word, until the Americans rose up and with the first shout, fired a ripple volley. From right to left, their muskets erupted in a sheet of flame, and they reloaded and continued to fire as rapidly as possible. Now the British soldiers picked up the yell and quickened their pace, hoping to force the Americans to launch a bayonet charge; but the Ameri- cans held their ground. At twenty yards, the two lines blazed away for an incredible twenty minutes. All along the line the battle raged, and after two hours, the red line pushed the Americans back. Many of the militia broke and ran, and were, with great effort, rounded up to be reformed behind the main line nearer to Baltimore. While the militia had indeed run, it had not been the pell-mell flight as at the “BladensburgR aces.” They had stood for two hours in the fiercest battle against Britain’s finest and had lost 200 of their comrades: and they had caused the British column to pause. They had inflicted 300 enemy casualties and delivered a terrible blow to the British command by striking down General Ross.17 as this battle unfolded on land, the British navy pressed on toward Bal- timore, but it was not easy going. “The bomb-vessels, brigs, and frigates are the grand offensive 197 all pushing up the river with an eagerness which must annoy the enemy,” said Captain Codrington, on board Surprise. “Three frigates are aground abreast of us, hauling themselves over the banks into deep water by main strength, each trying to surpass the other.” But despite his enthusiasm, Codrington felt a nagging uneasiness. “What the army may find on the land-sideI know not; but on this side the enemy is so well prepared for defence by nature and art, that we can do little either toward capturing or destroying the town.”18 upon arriving within sight of Fort McHenry, Admiral Cochrane saw that the American defense was even more substantial than he had imagined. Twenty-four sunken block ships barred the way necessary to assault or bombard the town and raid the city for the important prize stores. The bomb vessels moved in closer to the fort, but the deeper-draught frigates could not approach nearer than four miles. At seven o’clock on the morning of September 13, the bombardment began, and it continued unabated until three in the afternoon. Major George Armistead, commanding at Fort McHenry, ordered his guns to return fire. Armistead had battle experience and had been in the successful attack to seize Fort George on the Niagara River in 1813. He had captured the British flag there and later delivered it in person to PresidentM adison. The president ordered him to take command of Fort McHenry. His experience with the British flag inspired him to order his own flag “that would be so large that the British will have no difficulty in seeing it from a distance.”19 in August of that year, a massive thirty-by-forty-two-foot flag was delivered to Armistead. It had taken seven months for Mary Pickersgill and her team of four young girls to sew it. They were her thirteen-year-old daughter, Caroline; two nieces, Eliza and Margaret Young (thirteen and fifteen); and a thirteen-year-old black girl and indentured servant, Grace Wisher. Each of the fifteen stars and fifteen stripes was two feet wide; the massive flag weighed more than fifty pounds and took eleven men to raise it. Armistead stored it for just the right moment. That right moment had arrived, and it now majestically flew aboveF ort McHenry, dominating the skyline.20 fort McHenry’s guns at first scored a few hits against the British bombarding fleet, but Admiral Cochrane soon backed his ships out of the Americans’ 2,800-yard range. He left the bombardment mission solely in the hands of his five bomb ships. These squat, ungainly vessels made up 198 the war of 1812, conflict and deception in firepower what they lacked in looks. They were each capable of hurling, every hour, fifty, two-hundred-pound exploding balls an incredible 4,200 yards.21 at three o’clock in the afternoon, Cochrane ordered his vessels closer. From his distant vantage point, he had observed confusion at the fort when a shell had exploded exactly on target, and he now moved to engage with more effective fire.A rmistead saw the maneuver and ordered his gunners to stand by until the approaching enemy ships were well within range. He then unleashed a massive barrage with all his weapons. The sound of his booming cannons rocked the entire harbor. Surprised by the impacting balls raining down upon him, Cochrane ordered a hasty withdrawal to his safe position. On land, the army under Colonel Brooke continued its march toward the city. “The troops were desired to lighten themselves,” said Lieutenant Gleig, “by throwing off their blankets . . . and being now unincumbered, except by a knapsack almost empty, every man felt his spirits heighten in proportion to the diminution of his load.”22 But their approach was not the easy march it had been yesterday. The Americans had felled trees across the route, and although those barriers were not covered by infantry, just negotiating their passage greatly slowed progress. The British did not approach the American main line of resistance until that evening. When they did, it seemed to Lieutenant Gleig to be every bit as formidable as the three American prisoners had described to the late General Ross. “Upon a ridge of hills, which concealed the town itself from observation, stood the grand army, consisting of twenty thousand men. . . . It would be absurd to suppose that the sight of preparations so warlike, did not in some degree damp the ardour of our leaders; at least it would have been madness to storm such works.”23 colonel Brooke paused, and if the American defenses had dampened his spirits, a driving rainstorm completed the job and soaked him physi- cally—and no one had blankets to form shelters. Perhaps even more disturbing, the militia that they had finally routed yesterday was now arrayed on the American left, ready to have another go at it. Brooke decided to wait to attack until after dark when the navy could assist and support him by bombarding the American line. He sent a messenger to the admiral, but that messenger returned with the somber news that the fleet could not support the army owing to the shallowness of the river, which barred all but the lightest vessels from ap- the grand offensive 199 proaching closer than six miles to Baltimore. The possibility of success was greatly dimmed, and Colonel Brooke called a war council to discuss matters. “And even if we should succeed, what would be gained by it?” asked Lieutenant Gleig. “We could not remove any thing from Baltimore, for want of proper conveyance. Had the ships been able to reach the town, indeed, the quantity of booty might have repaid the survivors for their toil, and console them for the loss of comrades.”24 The war council decided, over Admiral Cockburn’s objections, to abandon the attack. He had tried to convince Colonel Brooke, as he had convinced General Ross on the road to Washington, to continue the attack, but to no avail. On September 14, at three in the morning, the British columns turned around and withdrew to the beaches where they had landed. Not knowing whether Colonel Brooke had called off the attack, Admiral Cochrane still tried to lend support.25 He continued his bombardment of Fort McHenry until seven o’clock in the morning of the 14th. That night he had even sent a small 128-man force in rowboats to create a diversion to the west and draw defenders off of Brooke’s front in the east. It was all for naught, since the army had already withdrawn. Through it all, Fort McHenry gallantly endured. Major Armistead said of the twenty-five-hour bombardment that had pummeled the fort with eighteen hundred rounds and countless rockets, “our loss amounts to only four men killed and twenty-four wounded. The latter will all recover.” 26 His broad pennant flying over the fort had been seen for miles, framed in the spectacle of exploding bombs and streaking rockets. An American, Francis Scott Key, detained on a British ship while attempting to negotiate the release of a prisoner, was moved by the sight and penned his famous lines that would become the National Anthem of the United States.

O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light, What so proudly we hailed, at the twilight’s last gleaming . . . ?

having withdrawn the army and navy from the attempt on Baltimore, the British were now faced with finding a replacement for GeneralR oss. On September 17, Admiral Cochrane broached that subject in a letter to First Lord of the Admiralty Viscount Robert Melville, and suggested someone who had seen active service with Wellington. “Whoever he may be,” he wrote, “he must not expect to repose upon a bed of Roses.”27 so sure had been the British about the defeat and capture of Baltimore, they had done a little premature celebrating and boasting. A celebration in 200 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

M ontreal celebrating the burning of Washington had been postponed so as to accommodate the celebration that would be demanded by the capture of Baltimore. And the buzz in London was that soon Prevost’s army, attacking through New York, would have a grand meeting with Ross’s army coming from Baltimore. On June 17, a London newspaper had proclaimed that the army and navy had been ordered to accept no terms other than those “which will be offered to the American government at the point of the bayonet.”28 The news of the capture and burning of Washington arrived in London on September 27, thirteen days after the failed attempt to seize Baltimore. While Lord Bathurst was delighted with the news, he was disappointed in the humane way that General Ross had conducted the occupation of the city and had limited the burning to government buildings only. On the 29th Bathurst wrote a congratulatory note to General Ross but criticized his mercy. “If you should attack Baltimore . . . make its inhabitants feel a little more of the effects of your visit than what has been experienced at Wash- ington.”29 It was a letter that Ross would never read. All of London was swept up in the excitement. The newspaper headlines said it all. “War America would have, and war she has got.” Another printed, “The reign of Madison, like the reign of Bonaparte, may be considered at an end.”30 after the repulse at Baltimore, the British attack fleet sailed to the northeast and toward Halifax to refit for its next operation. It arrived on the 27th, at the same time as Londoners were in the streets over the news of Washington’s burning. There was no celebrating on board the ships, and a fierce northwesterly storm “splits all our sails and breaks all our cord- age,” said Captain Codrington, “and which is so cold that we cannot walk ourselves warm.” The stay in Halifax was not long, and seventeen days later, on October 14, the fleet weighed anchor. “But where are we bound?” was the question.31

While the events on the battlefields unfolded, in Ghent the war of words and deception continued. On August 24, while the city of Washington was in flames, theA merican negotiators confronted the British team concerning their August 8 attempt to change the subject of the causes of war from impressments to discussions about boundaries, fishing rights, andI ndians. the grand offensive 201

The British had not even mentioned the pressing subjects of blockades and the rights of neutrals and belligerents during a war; those were the appropriate subjects. And the Americans had specific instructions that forbade them from discussing anything concerning the rights to fisheries; should the British insist on such frivolous negotiations, then negotiations were to cease.32 The Americans had not come to Ghent with instructions regarding these extraneous subjects concerning Indian affairs and fishing rights, since they were not even remotely connected to the causes of war. They also pointed out to their British counterparts that Castlereagh’s original letter of November 1813, proposing negotiations, had specifically called for “the conciliatory adjustments of the differences subsisting between the two states . . . in perfect reciprocity.”33 These new subjects had nothing to do with Castlereagh’s letter, were contrary to accepted rules of diplomacy, and were certainly not in “perfect reciprocity.” This unexpected British tactic of presenting concocted subjects, devoid of any connection with the causes of war, might shed light upon the reason why Britain wanted no part of a Russian mediation of the matter. A negotiator might have laughed these British negotiating antics out of the room. The British delegates, Vice Admiral James Gambier, Dr. William Ad- ams, and Henry Goulburn, were really Castlereagh’s messengers with no power to negotiate. According to his instructions, they launched Indian affairs into the forefront of discussions as a sine qua non and added other demands that would obfuscate and delay any substantive discussions. They had also proposed that the United States should have no armed naval force on the Great Lakes; should not erect any forts along its shores; and should abandon any positions that might already exist. Castlereagh also wanted the boundary line west of Lake Superior adjusted. All of this could only be accomplished by massive cessions of land to Britain, which would amount to a staggering 233 million acres—greater than the entire land mass of Great Britain and Ireland combined.34 The British also demanded that the treaty rights of 1783, granting free navigation on the Mississippi, must be continued. This was a curious demand, since the right to navigate a river that ran through a country to an ocean was generally recognized as essential, and this had been an important part of the 1783 treaty granting Britain that very right. It was just such a denial to navigate the river by the Spanish intendant in New Orleans in 1802 that had led to America’s offer to purchase New Orleans and West 202 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Florida. So why was the already-granted right to navigate the Mississippi now brought up by the British for renewal? The Americans had not even suggested that it had been forfeited. The answer is to be found in geography. In 1814, the geography that had generally been accepted in 1773 as accurate, and upon which treaties were based, had dramatically changed. The 1805 explorations of Zebulon Pike—killed in the 1813 Battle of York—clearly showed that no part of the Mississippi emanated from Canada, as had previously appeared on the maps. With that discovery, the right of Britain to trespass on U.S. soil could very well be brought into question. The Americans had not done so, but would have been within their rights, according to established international rules, to exclude British ships from their waters. With the British negotiating tactics now anchored in resolving non- issues, the Americans perceived no hope of any successful negotiations. Historian Frank Updyke wrote, “It was the unanimous opinion of the American ministers that Great Britain’s policy was to consume as much time as possible before the termination of the negotiations, in order that some decisive victory might be gained on the battlefield that would make it easier for her to insist upon her demands.”35 on the part of the British, it was a brilliant diplomatic move that en- hanced its entire war effort. The goal was to delay, and making the Indian issue a sine qua non from the outset forced the Americans to stop talking about any real issues and signal home for instructions concerning nonis- sues; and that meant two trans-Atlantic crossings that could consume up to three months. But the American response was even more brilliant. The team of Quincy Adams, Bayard, Clay, Russell, and Gallatin spent countless hours argu- ing and composing the perfect answer to the British demands. They said: “With deep regret, therefore, the undersigned have seen that other views are entertained by the British Government, and now unexpected pretensions are raised, which, if persisted in, must oppose an insuperable obstacle to a pacification.”36 and as for wasting time sending to Washington for instructions concerning these concocted demands, they sarcastically added, “It is not necessary to refer such demand to the American Government for instructions. They will only be a fit subject of deliberation when it becomes necessary to decide upon the expediency of an absolute surrender of national independence.”37 the grand offensive 203

still it took the British ten more days to prepare an answer; a long delay by any standard. The American ministers said the delay was “to give a greater appearance of deliberations and solemnity.”38 when the British response finally came, the new proposals were virtually the same as the ones already rejected, and James Bayard indignantly called the whole thing “stupid”; Henry Clay thought it deserved an answer not to exceed “half a page.”39 The Americans threw their hands up in disgust, forcing Henry Goulburn to send a frantic note to Lord Bathurst that “the Americans were really on the point of setting out. They gave it out . . . that the negotiations would end in nothing. Mr. Clay . . . wished to know how he, on his return to America, was to be secured from capture or detention by our cruisers.”40 The British plenipotentiaries had dutifully followed the instructions to present the demands of Lord Castlereagh that he had detailed in his letter of August 14 so as to “ascertain whether the negociations [sic] can now be prosecuted with a prospect of advantage.” At the conclusion of this letter, Castlereagh penned a most curious postscript. “PS. Care must be taken, in any settlement to be made, to remove all doubt as to the islands in Pas- samaquoddy Bay being considered as falling within the British boundary there.”41 what a strange subject to interject into negotiations. What had the Pas- samaquoddy Islands to do with the causes of war? September brought little change in the British and they continued to demand what the Americans rejected. The British continued to make the main focus on Indian affairs. But those demands brought a scathing American denunciation upon the British negotiators for their preoccupation about the welfare of their savage allies. “The employment of savages,” said the Americans, “whose known rule of warfare is the indiscriminate torture of women, children, and prisoners is itself a departure from the principles of humanity. . . . The massacre in cold blood of wounded prisoners, and the refusal of the rites of burial to the dead, under the eyes of British officers . . . are notorious to the world.”42 on October 8, in a seeming deviation from their negotiation talking points, the British minister brought up yet another subject. Having contended that land aggrandizement had always been America’s object of the war—vigorously denied by the Americans—they suddenly called into question the legality of the Louisiana Purchase, and that it had been done without the consent of the Spanish king, and that the Spanish foreign 204 the war of 1812, conflict and deception minister had actually protested against the cession. “Can it be contended,” the British ministers asked, “that the annexation of Louisiana, under such circumstances, did not mark a spirit of territorial aggrandizement?”43 This was an odd question, since the British had wholeheartedly approved of that transaction when it occurred because it took possession of the land out of the hands of Napoleon. The ministers now sought to mitigate that approval and conveyed the idea that they had been duped in the whole affair. “But the conditions under which France had acquired Louisiana from Spain were not communicated,” the letter said. “The refusal of Spain to consent to its alienation was not known; the protest of her ambassador had not been made; and many other circumstances attending the transaction were, as there is good reason to believe, industriously concealed.”44 The rest of this very long October 8 letter contained the usual demands concerning Indian affairs and boundary changes. After this one meeting, the Louisiana Purchase subject was curiously dropped and never came up again. So what was the purpose of this extraneous presentation in the formal discussions at Ghent? In their constant demand for adjusting boundaries relative to fishing rights, and regarding forts along the Great Lakes, and requests for land cessions in the northeast, they never asked for any boundary adjustment for the Louisiana Territory. The great invasion to seize New Orleans was under way, and the British had now placed themselves on record in an official document as having contested the legality of the Louisiana Purchase. After they seized New Orleans, they would have a better legal standing because they had publicly stated that they were only acting to protect the interests of Spain—the rightful owner! On October 21, the British commissioners introduced yet another wrin- kle to the discussions and proposed an end to hostilities. They introduced the idea of uti possidetis as the basis for settling differences. That is, each side would keep whatever land it had seized from the other.

Captain John Shaw was an unhappy man. He had been the commander of the New Orleans Station from 1803 to 1805, and after a brief absence, he had returned in the latter part of 1810 for another tour of duty. Now in 1813, he was being replaced from this post that he actually hated. He particularly disliked General James Wilkinson as a man always at odds the grand offensive 205 with his own thinking. The station at New Orleans was always suffering from budget cuts, lack of boats, and increasing pirate and smuggling activities. In addition there was a lack of willing recruits;45 and the climate was unhealthy. His few boats were no match for the swift-sailing boats of his pirate adversaries, who plundered anything that came into their range and sold their plunder on the black market—and sometimes even on the open market—to the despair of honest merchants. He had just six gunboats and one ship to guard more than three hundred miles of coastline.46 He lamented, “The force under my command, is by no means adequate to the defence of the extensive coast which it has to guard, even against pirates & privateers, in a state of peace; and how much less so, must it be in a time of War!47 But despite his constant problems, Shaw had done his best with what he had. More importantly, his creative mind led him to build a substantial shipyard, not in New Orleans, but tucked away across Lake Pontchartrain along the banks of the secluded Tchefuncte River, which flowed from the north into the lake. To protect New Orleans in time of war, he built a large blockship to defend at the two eastern entrances into the lake at Chef Pass and the Rigolets. The vast supply of timber along the Tchefuncte made for a perfect shipyard, and its secluded spot would provide security for vulnerable vessels needing repair.48 He also outfitted an old ship renamed Louisiana that was meant for the defense of the entrance to the Mississippi River at Southwest Pass to support the guns of Fort Balize. The original heavy guns meant for the ship had to be replaced with lighter ones, since Louisiana’s deck was somewhat rotted. Now after numerous requests to be relieved, Shaw was being replaced by Master Commandant Daniel T. Patterson, and in a spirit of cooperation, Shaw wrote to the new commander to share what he had discovered from his long experience of being stationed at New Orleans. He advised Patterson concerning possible avenues of approach that the British might consider in an attempt to attack the city. Should such an attempt be made, Patterson might convey these same thoughts to whoever might be assigned to defend New Orleans. Shaw had ruled out any enemy approach coming up the river, “as the rapidity of the current, and other difficulties, arising from its numerous meanderings, must be insuperable objections to those routes.” He continued, “The approach by the way of Lake Barritaria would, I apprehend, be found equally objectionable; for the narrowness of the Bayaus,”49 206 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

But Bayou Lafourche, forty-five miles to the west of the entrance to the Mississippi River, offered an excellent approach. It ran a parallel course with the Mississippi until it intersected well above New Orleans, offering the opportunity for a downriver approach to the city. “The eastern section of this state & the Bay and waters of Mobile, appear to me much more vulnerable to the attack,” said Shaw. Once on land, the British would have an easy march through open pine- wood country. They could live off the land, which was abundant with cattle, and could get guides to take them to either Natchez or Baton Rouge, where nothing could stop a descending attack to the city. “The mouth of the Rigoletts—from thence eastwardly, across Lake Bourne, to the . . . pass of Chef Menteur, will also claim your attention: Through these passes if not properly guarded, owing to their proximity to this place, an expedition from the enemy, might with great facility, approach New Orleans,” said Shaw.50 he also recommended that the defense of these possible invasion routes should be diligently guarded during the spring and winter months. Little was to be feared during the “sickly season of summer & autumn . . . as the unhealthiness of the climate will be their best defense.”51 so as the year 1814 began, the fully briefed master commandant Dan Patterson was now in command of the New Orleans Station. This twenty- seven-year-old navy veteran was no stranger to combat or to pirates. As a teenage midshipman, he had served on blockade duty against the Barbary pirates off the coast of Tripoli and had been captured and held prisoner for almost two years.

On May 28, 1814, after his defeat of the Creek Indians, Andrew Jackson had been commissioned a major general in the U.S. Army by President James Madison and given command of the newly formed Seventh Mili- tary District, headquartered in Mobile. He had gone to his home, “The Hermitage,” in Tennessee when the commission was offered, and although he was not actively participating in any phase of the war, the glory of his defeat of the Creeks had not dulled his awareness of the continued threat of hostility and invasion by the British. He had maintained a network of spies and informers, and those agents disclosed to him a renewed plot the grand offensive 207 involving the British, Spain, and a reformed Indian force that had escaped Jackson’s clutches. He informed the Madison government of his findings and received no acknowledgment of his messages, but they had ordered him to proceed to Fort Jackson and take charge of the negotiations regarding the final Indian treaty. He arrived there on July 10 and by August 9 had concluded the treaty. The following day he embarked by barge for Mobile, and on August 22, two days before the British invaded Washington and torched the Capitol, he arrived with 535 men of the U.S. Third Infantry.52 having received no instructions from Madison, Jackson had taken it upon himself to communicate with the Spanish governor of Pensacola, Don Matteo Gonzalez Manrique, concerning what his spies had revealed to him. While he presided over the Creek negotiations, he had dispatched his scout commander, John Gordon, to confront Manrique to turn over two fugitive Creek chiefs and to explain the presence of the British on supposedly neutral Spanish soil. Manrique did not respond kindly to this intrusion. He called Jackson’s letter “Impertinent,” said the chiefs were guests of Spanish hospitality, and sent Gordon away. As Gordon returned to Jackson bearing Manrique’s message, he also reported that the British were setting up a military base along the Apala- chicola River. In addition, rumor had it that Spanish ships would soon join the British fleet off the coast. Other spies confirmed that British marines had landed in Florida and were drilling the Indians, obviously in conjunction with other activity aimed at some future offensive operation.53 Three British ships had arrived in Pensacola, Hermes, Carron, and So- phie. Also expected to arrive was HMS Orpheus with other ships transporting 10,000 troops. Jackson received further intelligence that 25,000 of Wellington’s former army had arrived in Bermuda. It was expected that a combined British and Spanish force would attack Mobile and take possession of the surrounding territory.54 Jackson was miffed at this blatant violation of neutrality and the attempt to resurrect the hostile Indian force he had defeated at Horseshoe Bend. He declared, there “will be bloody noses before this happens.”55 on August 23, he dispatched Major William Lawrence with 160 men to repair and occupy Fort Bowyer on Mobile Point, which the Americans had built in 1813. A British capture of Mobile would cut off supplies to New Orleans from the east and allow the British to take a direct route to New 208 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Orleans, or to attack Natchez and cut off supplies to New Orleans from the north. The entire Gulf Coast region from Pensacola to New Orleans would be in British hands, with no American force to stop it. New Orleans, and the Mississippi River, would finally fall into British hands. In Pensacola, the British had set up their headquarters and supply de- pot. Captain George Woodbine issued red tunics to his Indian recruits and drilled them in battle formations. The British flag flew alongside theS pan- ish flag over the house of GovernorM anrique. Lieutenant Colonel Edward Nicholls, recently from Wellington’s army, issued his order of the day for the firstC olonial Battalion of the Royal Corps of Marines. Reminding them of the twenty-one-year struggle against Napoleon, he called them to an equal task against the hated Americans. “The treacherous Americans, who call themselves free, have attacked [Spain] like assassins, while she was fallen. But the day of retribution is fast approaching . . . and you will avenge them like British soldiers.”56 he then addressed all “Natives of Louisiana” and called them to help the British in their war against “American Usurpation.” Perhaps mindful that all Americans were very aware of Indian massacres, especially at Fort Mims, Colonel Nicholls tried to reassure them of peaceful intentions and proclaimed, “The Indians have pledged themselves . . . not to injure, in the slightest degree, the persons or properties of any but enemies. . . . A flag over any door, whether Spanish, French, or British will be a certain protection.”57 It sounded much like the biblical Passover, where appropriately marked houses would be spared from the wrath of the avenging angels. Jackson’s spy network was impressive by any measure. He had been able to have Colonel Nicholls watched even when he was far away in Cuba, and Nicholls had committed the cardinal sin of security—he talked too much. Somehow his words made their way back to Jackson and revealed that the plan was to occupy Pensacola as a base for offensive operations against Mobile and the mouth of the Mississippi River; and a secondary march to Baton Rouge would threaten New Orleans from three sides.58 Local Creoles were anticipated to strengthen the British force, as well as slaves, who were expected to join in the attack. Jackson dispatched a warning to Louisiana’s governor, William Clai- borne, but the governor’s response was not encouraging. He was not at all confident that his people had the stomach to fight the enemy, or even the intention to do so. “I have a difficult people to manage,” he wrote. Unless the grand offensive 209

“supported by a Respectable Body of Regular Troops,” he said, “I . . . fear we shall be enabled to make but a feeble Resistance.”59 The “difficult people” to whom the governor referred came from all walks of life, and they were indeed independent thinkers. The population of twenty thousand was not averse to ignoring or defying the governor’s orders. In 1814 two events had showcased his difficulties as a respected leader. After the Fort Mims Massacre, the president had issued a call for states to provide militia to defeat the Creek Indians, who had initiated this hei- nous slaughter of the innocent. Louisiana was asked to furnish 1,000 men, and Claiborne sent out the call. But the militia refused to leave the state on some far-flung operation that would leave Louisiana unprotected, should the British and their Indian allies invade. The militia vowed that if such an invasion occurred, they would rise up and smite the enemy, but not outside the state.60 historian and biographer James Parton described the mind-set in New Orleans perfectly: “The people and their rulers were divided among themselves . . . personal animosities were numerous and bitter . . . the old population distrusted the new settlers, and the new settlers the old population, neither believing that the other would risk life and fortune in defense of their homes and country.”61 earlier, Claiborne had butted heads with the legislature, which postured itself to network in harmony with the governor. In the spring, they blocked Claiborne’s nomination to fill a vacancy on the state Supreme Court and then proceeded to also block his next four nominees. Finally the legislature submitted the name of their own candidate and told Claiborne that this was to be the man and no other would do. Claiborne naturally did not cave in to that intimidation, and the position on the court remained vacant; but most importantly, this event drew a defiant line in the sand between the executive and the legislators and served to further weaken an already fragile government.62 New Orleans was a ship crammed with people who distrusted each other, hopelessly adrift on a stormy sea, without a captain at the helm. The enemy was not exactly at the gate yet, but it, like the lion just outside the light of the campfire, was close enough to hear it roar. On October 5, the adversarial legislature met in New Orleans at the summons of the governor to formulate some sort of plan for the defense of the city, should it become a British target. Under the threat of invasion, it 210 the war of 1812, conflict and deception would be natural to put aside petty differences and get on with the business of self-defense. But that was not to be, and like the Hatfields andM cCoys, the feud dominated all. The legislature did nothing and proposed nothing, and wasted time reviving old differences. “No money was appropriated; no new forces were raised; no law designed to annoy the enemy or preserve the city was passed,” noted historian James Parton.63 after six weeks, Louis Louallier, chairman of the Committee of Ways and Means, threw his hands up in disgust. “Are we always,” he asked, “to see the several departments entrusted with our defense languishing in inactivity, which would be inexcusable even in a time of peace? Nothing has yet been done.”64

On September 1, HMS Sophie sailed for the Louisiana coast under the command of Captain Nicholas Lockyer, who carried with him Captain John McWilliams of the British Royal Marines. Their objective was the southern coastline of Louisiana, west of the Mississippi River, at a place called Bara- taria Bay, whose restricted water entrance made it a perfect base for pirates and privateers. However, once pirates got inside that natural barrier, the navigable Bayou Lafourche and a maze of lakes provided them with a route to the Mississippi and New Orleans, and a market for their stolen goods.65 The pirates also controlled ships, and those ships could now be very useful to Britain in her planned offensive operations and would also help her Spanish allies by stopping the plundering of that country’s own ships and cargoes. In midmorning on September 3, HMS Sophie approached Grand Isle and the entrance to Barataria Bay. Lockyer and McWilliams carried with them a packet of papers addressed to “Mr. Lafitte, or the commandant at Barataria.”66 Jean Lafitte, the acknowledged ruler of this pirate cove, sat in his primitive house on Grand Isle and watched the approach of this foreign ship. His pirating during the past four years, focused on stolen goods and slaves, had made him a man of some means, but a recent crackdown on pirating had made life difficult and jeopardized his future; and he pondered moving his operation to another location out of the reach of American jurisdiction. Maybe he would go to Mexico, or Texas; but before he could do that, his first order of business was to get his brother Pierre out of jail.67 the grand offensive 211

while he watched the approach of this strange ship, he saw it suddenly open fire upon another ship also heading for the narrow pass between the two islands of Grand Isle and Grand Terre, and the British ship drove this intruder aground. Sophie flew no flag, andL afitte boarded a small pirogue and, with four of his men rowing, moved toward the ship. Maybe it was carrying stolen goods or slaves and looking for someone to dispose of its cargo in New Orleans. Lafitte was known as just the man to contact for that service. But as he approached the ship, he saw a small boat being lowered into the water and bearing a white flag, and its occupants began to row toward him. As the two small vessels closed upon each other, Lafitte recognized that a small British pennant was displayed, but it was too late to turn and run, and within minutes Captain Lockyer identified himself and asked for Lafitte. The pirate was understandably reluctant to identify himself until he knew the visitors’ business And told the British officers that he might be the one they were looking for. Lockyer and McWilliams immediately gave the pirate the packet addressed to “Mr. Lafitte,” And with that, he invited the British officers to row ashore with him; shortly before touching land, he finally confirmed that he was JeanL afitte.68 Their landing was greeted by an angry mob of pirates wanting to take the two officers as spies, but Lafitte calmed them down and escorted his guests to his house. The British officers gave him a packet that contained four letters. The first was a copy ofC olonel Nicholls’s proclamation to the Americans to rise up and help the British. The second was a personal letter to him from Colonel Nicholls, calling upon him “with your brave followers to enter into the service of Great Britain in which you will have the rank of captain.” Nicholls also promised land in return for ceasing “hostilities against Spain.”69 The third paper was Nicholls’s order to Lockyer in which he was to ask Lafitte, if he could not accept the offer, “to remain neutral and cease their preying on Spanish shipping.” The fourth letter was a thinly veiled threat to Lafitte from Percy, on HMS Hermes, who was the senior British officer in the Gulf of Mexico. Alluding to the recent pirating of some British merchant ships, Percy commanded Lockyer to investigate and, if those facts of plunder were correct, to demand “immediate restitution,” and if the pirates refused, “to destroy to his utmost every vessel there, as well as to carry destruction over the whole place.”70 212 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

lafitte was now in a tough spot. He had been promised destruction by the Americans and now by the British. He asked Lockyer for a fortnight to decide, but as the British party walked back to their boat, the other pirates seized Lockyer and detained him overnight, and when his boat returned the next morning for him, they also arrested the crew. But somehow Lafitte prevailed, and the entire British party rowed back to Sophie, and the ship moved and re-anchored in the deeper water of the Gulf.71 The next few days found Lafitte dithering about what to do, and two other British ships suddenly appeared and joined Sophie, adding to his angst. By September 7, he had decided to inform the Americans, and within hours of his addressing a letter to one of his contacts in New Orleans, detailing the events of his meeting with the British, Sophie and the other two ships suddenly weighed anchor and sailed away. Even if he had wanted to wait the two weeks that Lafitte had asked for, Captain Lockyer was pressed for time. Captain Percy, hoping to join the pirates’ vessels with him for an attack on Mobile, had ordered, “You will at all events yourself join me with the utmost dispatch at this post.”72

Mobile was especially vulnerable. It was a small village with less than one thousand people, mostly housed in primitive wooden houses. It had no defenses, and its few inhabitants would be hardly able to withstand an attack by armed Indians; they certainly could not survive a combined attack by the British. Fort Bowyer, twenty-seven miles to the south of the town, commanded the tip of land controlling the channel that led into Mobile Bay. It was less than a formidable defensive position, possessing only twenty guns—mostly twelve-pounders or less.73 Fort Bowyer was not the first line of defense; it was the only line of defense, and once an enemy pushed past it, Mobile would be theirs. General Jackson had ordered Major William Lawrence and a small force of soldiers from the Second Infantry to occupy and strengthen the recently abandoned Fort Bowyer. On August 21, they descended the Mobile River in barges and worked furiously to bring Fort Bowyer to some level of strength to enable it to confront a British attack.74 as morning broke on September 13 on that critical peninsula, Lawrence awoke to see that he was not alone. In the distance, Colonel Nicholls and a force of 160 British Marines and 600 newly drilled Indians from Pensacola, the grand offensive 213

Attack on Fort Bowyer. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. commanded by Captain Woodbine, had set up in an attack position. The two sides stared at each other until evening, when Lawrence spotted four British warships closing on his position and then anchoring six miles offshore. This was Captain Percy’s naval force, including his flagshipHermes and Sophie, freshly recalled from her rendezvous with Jean Lafitte. On the following morning, Nicholls tested the fort with a few probing rounds of artillery, with little effect. When the enemy moved in closer, Lawrence’s guns drove them away. They also drove away some of the navy’s small boats attempting to sound the channel. This standoff went on for two days. But on the fifteenth,L awrence could see that the British were poised for a simultaneous land and sea attack.75 in the late afternoon, having formed in a line as a bombardment fleet, the four British ships opened fire on the fort. As fast as the gunners could load, they poured continuous broadsides into Lawrence’s position. Simul- taneously, the British land force, only seven hundred yards behind the fort, opened up a crossfire with a howitzer and a twelve-pound cannon.F or an hour the duel between the British guns and those from the American fort 214 the war of 1812, conflict and deception hammered away at each other. Hermes’s mast was shot away, and then an American shot cut her anchor cable, and she floated adrift in the current. As she drifted, her head turned toward the fort, and Lawrence’s gunners raked the entire length of the ship with a hail of fire that swept away guns, men, rigging, and masts. In the furious exchange, Fort Bowyer’s flag was also shot away and fell, and seeing this, the British land forces attacked. But they quickly realized their mistake and were driven back by a barrage of grape and canister shot. The fallen American flag had suddenly reap- peared, hoisted on the end of a cannon ram sponge. Both British forces backed off, except for Hermes, now grounded and helpless. Captain Percy set fire to his flagship, and it burned throughout the night until the flames finally reached its magazines and it exploded in a spectacular detonation. The British attack had failed even though they had brought more than ninety guns and cannons to bear against the determined Americans and more than 1,300 men had been hurled against them.76 The British forces withdrew to Pensacola. From this unexpected victory, Andrew Jackson used the afterglow of the heroic battle to exhort Louisianans to courage and confidence against the British invaders. On September 21, from his headquarters in Mobile, he issued a proclamation to challenge Nicholls’s previous attempt to lure Americans to the British side infected with the likes of pirates and murderous Indians. “The perfidious Britons have attempted to invade your country,” he said. And then proclaiming the great courage of the defenders at Fort Bowyer, he said, “The gallant Lawrence, with his little spartan band, has given them a lecture that will last for ages.”77 Jackson then proceeded to heap insults upon the British and painted them as the lowest form of conniving seducers: “Can Louisianians, can Frenchmen, can Americans, ever stoop to be slaves or allies of Britain? I ask you Louisianians, can we place any confidence in the honor of men who have courted an alliance with pirates and robbers. . . . And have they not dared to insult you by calling on you to associate, as a brethren with them, and this hellish banditti?”78 This hellish banditti were, of course, the pirates led by the Lafitte brothers. But since Jean Lafitte’s brief September meeting with Captain Lockyer, things had not gone well for the pirates. Even though Lafitte had informed the Americans about the British plans, he had not been received with open arms. In fact his correspondence had been held in secret by Edward Liv- ingston, who hoped to convince Andrew Jackson that an alliance with the the grand offensive 215 pirates could be struck. It was to Livingston that Lafitte had offered his contrived repentance and loyalty to his “adoptive country [that] never ceased to be dear to me. . . . I may have evaded the payment of duties to the custom house; but I have never ceased to be a good citizen.” Seeking to mitigate his past wrongs, he boasted that he had revealed “the secret on which perhaps depends the tranquility of our country.”79 Jean Lafitte had offered to Governor Claiborne, in exchange for drop- ping prosecution of charges against the pirates, to defend Barataria against the British. He knew, and hoped that the governor did not know, that he would have been no match against a determined British attack. His brother Pierre, newly escaped from prison, also wrote a letter to Governor Clai- borne asking that charges be dismissed. “I am the stray sheep, wishing to return to the sheepfold,” he declared. But in typical criminal fashion, he proclaimed the law’s “mistaken” vision of him: “If you were thoroughly acquainted with my offences, I should appear to you much less guilty.”80 But what the pirates didn’t know was that Barataria was already in the crosshairs of the American government. In July, Secretary of War William Jones had ordered Commodore Patterson to smash the pirate haven and had dispatched the armed schooner Carolina to New Orleans to join with his gunboats to do just that. Claiborne still had nagging doubts about “using men of such desperate character in any manner.”81 Calling his advisers together, he presented the problem and suggested that perhaps the offensive against the pirate stronghold should be postponed. Patterson and Colonel George Ross, commanding the Seventh Regiment, emphatically disagreed, and Patterson said that he could not violate his orders. So the invasion was on despite what appeared to be creditable evidence that the Lafittes were not on the British side.82 early in the morning on September 10, seventy soldiers of Colonel Ross’s regiment secretly boarded three of Patterson’s barges and floated downriver in the dark. The following day the barges joined the sloop Carolina, and on September 12, they joined up with the six gunboats and one other vessel that was the total of Patterson’s force. Fully armed and rigged for combat, the flotilla moved through Southwest Pass and into the Gulf of Mexico. Miles away, the pirate stronghold was packed with sellers and buyers. There were twenty-seven ships in Barataria Bay that day, including some privateer ships mounting twenty guns. Merchandise was displayed in the same manner as if this was a grand bazaar, with shoppers visiting packed warehouses or rummaging through the many items displayed along the beach. 216 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

on September 16, Ross and Patterson arrived. Their sails, first noticed in the distance as they approached, were the panicked alarm that threw the entire cove into a desperate attempt to escape. Buyers fled in pirogues into the obscurity of the bayous and marshes. The pirates and privateers attempted to man their vessels into some form of a defensive line. The brothers Pierre and Jean ran with the rest, and it was every man for himself. In desperation, one ship raised three flags, hoping one of them would work to save it from Patterson as he and Ross bore down. Carolina and two of the gunboats grounded attempting to cross the bar, but the others sailed in just as a lion smashes into a fleeing herd. In every direction they flew, abandoning everything. By noon, Patterson had possession of eleven vessels, and he continued rounding up scattering pirogues. Every capture yielded an impressive array of loot, which eventually was valued between one quarter and a half million dollars. Colonel Ross’s men began to set fire to the entire camp.83 on September 23, Patterson made his way back to New Orleans. Eight captured vessels carried the enormous load of pirated goods. In the roundup, the Lafittes managed to escape, but not Dominique You, and he was the biggest fish caught in the net. Commodore Patterson reported, “On the afternoon of the 23rd got under way, with the whole squadron, in all seventeen vessels—(but during the night one schooner under Carthaginian colors escaped)—on the morning of the 24th entered the southwest pass of this river, and on the 1st inst. arrived opposite this city with all my squadron.”84 The Baratarian Empire was smashed, and whatever sympathies the Lafittes had managed to raise among the people who could pardon them from their sins were gone. The only flicker of hope for a reversal of their fortunes lay in the sympathetic hands of Edward Livingston. “There is only you to pull me out of my unhappy position,” Jean Lafitte lamented.85

Jackson turned his eyes to Pensacola. It was a source of extreme concern. The British fleet was being allowed safe harbor there by a condescending Spanish governor; renegade Indians, having fled the Creek nation, were being recruited and armed; and supplies to support this invasion threat was actually being furnished by Spanish ships laden with grain and cargo from the United States under the cover of trade with Spain as a neutral nation. the grand offensive 217

when he had first arrived in Mobile to begin to prepare its defenses, General Jackson observed that several Spanish ships were in the process of loading cargoes of corn and other provisions, and all of these ships were destined for the port of Pensacola. Inquiries revealed that British warships were also expected in Pensacola at any time, and it was no secret that their intention was to launch an offensive to retake the territory of West Florida, now in possession of the United States.86 Jackson immediately ordered a stop to the loading and sent the same order to New Orleans.87 But the infuriated general could not even consider moving against the British and Spanish stronghold until his Tennessee volunteers could arrive, and that was not until October 25. Finally, reinforced by his old friend Coffee, Jackson formed his 4,000-man army to march on the enemy’s Florida stronghold, and on November 3, with the battalion of Mis- sissippi Dragoons in his van, he deployed two miles outside of Pensacola.88 an American officer,M ajor Piere, entered the city under a flag of truce to assure Spanish Governor Manrique that Jackson’s intentions were not to destroy his town but to deny it as a sanctuary for British refuge. But as that officer walked down the streets, he was fired upon by a cannon from one of the forts occupied by the British, and a furious Andrew Jackson sent in a second emissary, this time a Spanish prisoner, to demand an explanation for this warlike outrage. A very nervous Governor Manrique denied knowing anything about the firing on the flag of truce and said a second flag would be honored. When Piere returned under the second flag, he informedM anrique that the American force would occupy the two forts St. Michael and Barancas, but not as a matter of conquest, but only until Spanish soldiers could be brought in to secure the forts themselves and maintain their neutrality. Manrique found himself caught in the middle of his collaboration with the British and Jackson’s army camped on his doorstep. He rejected the proposition, and Jackson had had enough of Manrique and attacked with 3,000 men. They were greeted by artillery and musket fire from the surrounding houses and gardens. But in short order, the Americans seized the cannons, and Manrique waved his own white flag and vowed to comply with whatever Jackson wanted if only he would spare the town. Jackson again demanded the immediate surrender of the forts, but Fort Barancas was six miles distant and controlled the harbor. He ordered an attack for the following dawn to seize those guns and turn them on the anchored British ships; but before he could carry out his plan, the British 218 the war of 1812, conflict and deception saw their untenable position and weighed anchor and sailed away. As they departed, they blew up the fort, and the British easternmost threat was nullified. The victorious American army now faced about and force-marched back toward the uncovered and undefended city of Mobile, fearing another British attempt to seize the town.89 when Jackson arrived there on November 11, he found a letter from Governor Claiborne waiting for him. The governor had been in constant contact with Jackson, keeping him abreast of the military preparations in New Orleans. He had previously lamented to the general about the “difficult people” he had to managed, and his latest communication did not show him to be any more confident. I“ am not at the head of a united and willing people,” he said. “Native Americans, native Louisianians, Frenchmen and Spaniards, with some Englishmen, compose the mass of the population. Among them there exists much jealousy.”90 claiborne had also written to the governors of Tennessee and Kentucky, imploring them to send their men to help with the defense of New Orleans. “I do not know how far I shall be supported by the militia of my own State. . . . There has not been manifested all that union and zeal which the crisis demands. . . . But were a strong detachment of the militia of your State to descend the Mississippi, it would, I am persuaded, inspire my fellow-citizens here with confidence.”91 as time went by and the British threat became more ominous, Clai- borne’s confidence lagged even more.C onstant interaction with the mayor and the legislature had been less than fruitful, and the readiness of his own militia was still doubtful in his mind. Now, as Jackson read his November 17 message, Claiborne’s words were those of a very worried man:

I t is certainly true that the Louisianians have of late manifested the most patriotic disposition, and that, if the spirit which exists be cherished and encouraged, we have everything to hope from the majority of this population. . . . I hope [the Legislature] will be justly impressed with the dangers to which we are exposed, and will warmly second all my efforts. But I fear, I much fear, they will not act with the promptitude and the energy which the crisis demands.92

he penned a companion letter to Governor Blount of Tennessee with similar misgivings, saying, “We shall, in any event, be made secure by those brave and determined men who are hastening from Tennessee and Ken- tucky. I await their arrival with much anxiety.”93 the grand offensive 219

on November 22, 1814, General Jackson formed the remaining two companies of the Forty-Fourth Infantry, commanded by Major Piere,94 to begin his march toward New Orleans. Two days previously he had embarked two other companies of the Forty-Fourth to sail to New Orleans to join the rest of the regiment already there. He departed at 5:00 p.m. for his trek along the Gulf Coast and planned a route that would approach New Orleans from the north, across Lake Ponchartrain, through the Tchefuncte River.95 They marched that first evening only until 8:00 p.m. and covered only five miles before encamping for the night. The next nine days of forced marching were one of the great feats of military discipline in the whole of the War of 1812. Jackson’s army averaged more than twenty-five miles a day traveling to the west, across poor pine country, barren land intermingled with scrub growth, sometimes blazing their own trail and at other times trekking on the almost abandoned and deteriorating federal road. On November 24, General Coffee’s army fell in with them on its way toward Baton Rouge to defend there should the Brit- ish attack that city. They were forced to constantly cross streams and use primitive ferries spanning the numerous creeks and rivers that drained the land. Hogan’s Ferry, Mimms Ferry, Evans Ferry, and Ford’s Ferry all became part of their route. Jackson’s men built bridges to cross the larger streams, laying whole logs crosswise along the road and bridge supports to carry the weight of men, horses, and wagons. When they reached the Pearl River and Ford’s Ferry on the 27th, they had covered more than thirty-one miles on that day alone. The Pearl River was not going to be an easy crossing. It was in full flood and swollen to 150 paces wide, from its usual width of less than 100 paces. It took all day for the army to bridge and cross the running river, and they camped near John Ford’s Fort and house to rest and forage. But by 9:00 a.m. on the 28h, the army was again on the move. Past Ford’s Fort the road split, the right fork leading to Baton Rouge, and Gen- eral Coffee’s force began their 150-mile twisting route to the west. Jackson’s headquarters with the two companies of the Forty-Fourth continued on the left fork to the southwest and faced a backbreaking day of crossing fourteen creeks, including negotiating the formidable Bogue Chitto River, also in full flood and emptying into the PearlR iver. The men had become masters at road and bridge building and covered twenty miles on that day despite having to swim three of the more difficult creeks.96 They now followed a 220 the war of 1812, conflict and deception southwesterly course toward the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain, which separated the city of New Orleans from the rest of Louisiana to the north. The next day, after swimming yet another running creek, Jackson’s men pulled into the town of Wharton.97 It was a small town with few buildings but was strategically located on the Bogue Falaya River and was a direct water communication route across Lake Pontchartrain to Bayou St. John, the vulnerable northern approach to New Orleans. It was also only eight miles from Wharton to Madisonville, where the shipbuilding facility was located, along with a fleet of boats and sloops capable of transporting men, supplies, and materiel to New Orleans. After a brief stop in Wharton, the reinforced headquarters proceeded to Madisonville, crossing the wide Tchefuncte River, and halted for the night. At 10:00 a.m. on November 30, Major Howell Tatum, Jackson’s chief topographer, along with the general and much of his headquarters, boarded Collin’s Packet boat for the Lake Pontchartrain crossing. It was a slow sail across the wide lake, and not until 8:00 p.m. did the boat complete the twenty-two-mile crossing. It entered the mouth of the bayou at Fort St. John, which loomed black in the evening gloom of the right bank. It took another two hours for the packet to travel the six-mile length of the bayou to a bridge just two miles from the city, where Jackson and his headquarters disembarked.98 in the morning, the senior military officers and an escort of volunteer cavalry greeted the general and escorted him to Fort St. Charles. On De- cember 2, he assumed command of the New Orleans department of the Seventh Military District.99

Major Harry Smith, the deputy adjutant general to General Robert Ross, arrived in London bearing the dispatches of the commanding general’s attack and burning of Washington. He had departed for America on Au- gust 30, and in three weeks was standing before Lord Bathurst presenting the dispatches of the resounding victory. He also conveyed Ross’s stated inclination to not attack Baltimore that he had confided toS mith. He even had an audience with the prince regent and presented the prince with a map of Washington showing the destroyed and burned public buildings marked in red.100 the grand offensive 221

But in the days to come, new dispatches arrived containing the grim news that Ross had obviously changed his mind, or had been persuaded to attack Baltimore, and had lost his life in that failed attempt. Great Britain had lost more than its commanding general at Baltimore. Consider the euphoria following the sacking of Washington, compared to the shocked disbelief upon learning of the defeat at Baltimore. British newspapers had thumped their chests after Washington was in ashes. “The vial of our wrath is not yet exhausted,” said one. Another opined that it would not be surprised to see other major American cities reduced to “heaps of smoldering rubbish.” An enthusiastic editor from yet another journal reported that Baltimore was under British control and had also “seceded from the Union and proclaimed itself neutral.”101 This pillage, burn, and plunder policy was not secret. It had been a matter of public record since August 18, 1814, when Admiral Cochrane wrote to Secretary James Monroe: “For the wanton destruction committed by [the American] army in Upper Canada, it has become . . . my duty . . . to issue to the naval force under my command, an order to destroy and lay waste such towns and districts upon the coast, as may be found assailable.”102 This British enthusiasm for chastisement, retaliation, and conquest was euphoric up until October 17, when the political roof began to collapse. On that date, dispatches arrived detailing the failure at Baltimore and General Ross’s death. Liverpool and Bathurst huddled quickly, reviewed four potential commanders, and decided on the well-qualifiedM ajor General Sir Edward Pakenham to replace him. History has described Pakenham as Wellington’s most trusted staff officer. But he was much more than that. On July 22, 1812, at the climactic battle of Salamanca on the Iberian Peninsula, Pakenham had taken command of the Third Division, replacing its ailing regular commander. At the height of the battle, when a gap developed in the French line, Wellington sent him in to exploit it, and Pakenham’s lightning attack smashed through the French line and, within a half hour, secured the position.103 Now in the face of this unexpected Baltimore disaster, Britain attempted to put on a good face while the new commanding general rushed to embark for America. The first tactic was for the press to attempt to denigrate the American army. It sought to ridicule the American soldiers as “a set of creatures who take the field only to disgrace the musket,” and when several of those “creatures” had actually used muskets to kill General Ross, the British 222 the war of 1812, conflict and deception press accused them of “an assassin-like maneuver of marking their man, under the security of their impenetrable forest.”104 But the bad news at Baltimore was followed by more bad news from Plattsburg and Lake Champlain. So instead of three glorious British victories and three occupied pieces of American territory that could be claimed in the negotiating for land concessions, or to support the strategy of uti possidetis (as you possess) at Ghent, Britain was faced with three humiliating defeats, and her grand strategy to finally seize the Mississippi River and nullify the Louisiana Purchase was suddenly on a ticking time clock. A concerned Lord Liverpool wrote to Wellington in Paris to express his dismay concerning the reduced possibility of uti possidetis to be the basis of the treaty. “The doctrine of the American government is a very convenient one: that they will always be ready to keep what they acquire, but never to give up what they lose.”105 wellington’s response did not spare Liverpool’s feelings and was a sting- ing setback to his grand scheme to seize American territory. “You can get no territory,” the Iron Duke said. “Indeed the state of your military operations . . . does not entitle you to demand any.”106 on October 24, the American negotiating team at Ghent flexed its own muscle and flatly rejected the British proposal for terms based onuti possidetis; and on October 31, with no American territory in its possession, Britain dropped the demand. But Liverpool was not beaten. He wanted more time to see how other events might unfold, and he pressed on both the diplomatic and military fronts. There was still the southern offensive to save the day. The London Times asked for a little patience. On November 1, General Pakenham boarded the cramped frigate Stat- ira, with all of his assorted staffs and commanders. It was so crowded that most officers had to sleep on cots set up on the lower decks.107 He also carried with him secret orders. Although the rumor was that the fleet was heading for Louisiana, he did nothing to confirm this and, in fact, talked often about Charleston. On November 3, the secret orders were opened as Pakenham’s instructions demanded, and much to the surprise of all assembled, their destination was Jamaica. No one was informed where they would proceed from Jamaica, but all assumed it would be Louisiana.108 Pakenham also carried four separate instructions, all penned by Lord Bathurst on October 24. The first conferred upon him the title of “Com- mander of all the Troops operating with His Majesty’s Fleets upon the Coasts of the United States of America.” But it also strangely informed him the grand offensive 223 that his army might have already departed the rendezvous point before he arrived to execute Admiral Cochrane’s plan. So why was it necessary for him to be appointed “Supreme” Commander if his army planned to go into battle without him and he would have no input regarding the attack plan? His second instruction commanded him to respect the lives and property of all those who “inclined to a peaceable deportment” and to not incite “the Black population to rise against their Masters.” This certainly represented a shift in British standard policy of pillaging and encouraging rebellion. It was an action to hopefully bring about a non-hostile reception once New Orleans was occupied, and so that the people might “peaceably acquiesce in our Possession of the Country during the War.”109 The key word was possession, not occupation. The fourth order seemed to contradict the second instruction; it gave new instructions on how to handle booty and prize money. But it was the third instruction that contained wording concerning “one case that may arise affecting your situation upon the Coasts of America.” (See the Appendix for the full text of this letter.) The attack was not to be terminated or diminished even if peace seemed at hand.

Y ou may possibly hear whilst engaged in active operations that the Prelimi- naries of Peace between His Majesty and the United States have been signed in Europe and that they have been sent to America in order to receive the Ratification of the President. . . . Hostilities should not be suspended until you shall have official information that The President has actually ratified the Treaty and a Person will be duly authorized to apprise you of this event. . . . [Until then] the termination of the war must be considered as doubtful.110

The concluding sentence reconfirmed Pakenham’s instructions so he could not possibly misunderstand them. “And you will take special care not so to act under the expectation of hearing that the Treaty of Peace has been ratified.”111 on November 24, as the frigate Statira still sailed toward the Caribbean at eight to ten knots, General John Keane and his 2,000 reinforcements arrived in Negril Bay, Jamaica, to the delight of the rest of the army waiting at anchor. “A magnificent squadron of ships, of all classes and dimensions, steered into the bay,” said Lieutenant Gleig. “They contained the long-looked for reinforcements . . . and above all . . . a new general to command us.”112 The grand arrival of the fleet was witnessed by red-coated soldiers crowded on the decks of their own ships waiting at anchor. The normally 224 the war of 1812, conflict and deception quiet Negril Bay seemed ready to burst at the seams. “The great fleet of ships spread far and wide over the bay, gay with flags, and alive with throngs of red uniforms.”113 on the 26th, the fleet, in unison, weighed anchor. The very sight of that movement held Lieutenant Gleig in awe.

Our fleet amounted now to upwards of fifty sail, many of them vessels of war, which shaking loose their topsails, and lifting their anchors at the same moment, gave Negril Bay an appearance of bustle such as it has seldom been able to show. In half an hour all the canvass was set, and the ships moved slowly and proudly from their anchorage, till having cleared the head-lands, and caught the fair breeze which blew without, they bounded over the water with the speed of eagles, and long before dark, the coast of Jamaica had disappeared.114

That fleet of fifty ships did not just carry 14,000 soldiers, sailors, and support personnel. Perhaps unique in the annals of military invasions, it carried a civilian staff and members of their families. Several bureaucrats, who were to open civil offices in the captured city, were aboard. There was also embarked a collector for the port, who would obviously set up river- control and tariff collections. And he was not by himself; his five daughters were aboard with him.115 Wives of officers also promenaded the decks in anticipation of settling in New Orleans; and in such an atmosphere of confidence regarding the upcoming conquest, the boredom of the voyage was relieved by musical entertainment, dancing, shipboard plays, and other diversions.116 10 The Final Attack

On the morning of December 4, three days after his much-anticipated arrival in New Orleans, General Jackson was a dynamo of activity, seeking to reconnoiter and inspect the defenses of New Orleans and the possible avenues of approach of the British forces. The jubilation of the population was unbounded as they shook off their gloom and believed that salvation was at last at hand; their greeting to friends and neighbors was simply “Jackson’s come; Jackson’s come!”1 “General Jackson’s arrival in New Orleans was hailed with that delight with which the tempest-tossed mariner views the sight of land, after all hope was lost. All eyes were turned on him as the only hope. All before was confusion and despair.”2 on that very first day of his arrival, he exuded extreme confidence and made his first order of business to inspect the uniformed companies of the city. His second priority was to calm the ragged nerves of the citizens of the city, especially the women; and he did that best by accepting a dinner invitation to Mrs. Livingston’s home. It was a special dinner. He was the only male present, and his company was the young Creole and American ladies that Mrs. Livingston had invited. The girls whispered to one another in anticipation as to what they might expect from this famous Indian fighter who had vanquished the Creeks. What rough-and-tumble man would invade their genteel society? When the tall, gaunt Jackson entered the room in his finest uniform, with his steel-gray hair framing his weathered and tanned face, the girls rose to greet him but remained withdrawn, with their shoulders pulled slightly back, and most guarded. But in the course of the dinner, he engaged each of the girls and with piercing eyes assured them of his confidence

225 226 the war of 1812, conflict and deception and that they had nothing to fear. He sought them out individually, and when he departed, their nervousness had vanished. They rushed to Mrs. Livingston tittering, “Madam, he is a prince.”3 Now it was time for reconnaissance. Boarding one of Patterson’s gunboats, the small party of Jackson, Patterson, Howell Tatum, Arsene LaCar- riere Latour, and another engineer proceeded downriver to inspect Fort St. Philip on the east bank of the Mississippi, seventy-five miles below NewO r- leans. The fort was in excellent condition, and Jackson ordered two thirty- two-pound long guns to be added, to confront any vessel ascending the river and to have a wide sweep so as to continually keep them in the killing zone of the guns until they finally came abreast at a point-blank range. The small command group also inspected Fort Leon, by English Turn, and found it in good order. A contingent of Louisiana militia was erecting a line of defenses from the edge of the river back to the nearby impassable swampland. Major Tatum said, “It is almost impossible for an invading army to gain possession of New Orleans (with anything like an equal force) by ascending the Mississippi. At the English Turn . . . a few batteries of heavy cannon erected at different points, would destroy every armed vessel that dared to attempt the ascent.”4 for the next six days, Jackson reconnoitered the land. With his engineers he visited the one-hundred-yard-wide pass at Chef Menteur that separated Lake Pontchartrain from Lake Borgne and ordered the placement of a battery at that obvious invasion danger point. Entry into Lake Pontchartrain there would lead to Bayou St. John and an easy approach to the city from the north. A second, narrower pass, the Rigolets, also connected the two lakes, and an unfinished fort, PetiteC oquilles, was its defense. A road from the Rigolets ran along the Plains of Gentilly for twenty-four miles into New Orleans. It was called the Gentilly Road, but that approach was seen to be easily defended because it was very narrow and was confined between a bayou and a swamp. After examining the path, Major Tatum said, “Half the number of the defending force could perfectly destroy the whole of an army in half the distance to the city.”5 when Jackson had completed his inspection, on December 9, he returned to his headquarters at 106 Royal Street.6 He had also changed his mind concerning the use of the pirates led by the Lafittes.A lthough the entreaties of Livingston and Claiborne to include them in the defense of the city had fallen on deaf ears, the ready supply of flints and gunpowder persuaded Jackson to enlist the “hellish banditti” into the ranks. The state legislature the final attack 227 had swept aside all legal obstacles, and a federal judge agreed to let them out of prison if they agreed to join in the defense of the city.7 Jackson ordered that they swear to a pledge of allegiance and accepted them into the militia. Four hundred raised their hands and took the oath, and with that, seventy-five hundred badly needed flints were surrendered to Jackson’s quartermaster and a ready supply of gunpowder became available.8 Jackson saw the defense of the approach along the Mississippi River as strong, but not complete without the erection of earthen works to accommodate new artillery batteries. Since most of this work involved labor to erect these works, he prevailed upon Governor Claiborne to have the legislature pass a resolution for the local planters to “furnish their gangs of negroes, to be employed for a certain time in those works.”9 on December 10, Jackson received a frantic message from Secretary of War James Monroe. Intelligence had informed him that the British were on the move. Their interest in Mobile, he said, was but “trifling” compared to the object of this new offensive. The target was New Orleans! “Your presence, at such a point, on the river, with the main body of your troops will be of vital importance,” said Monroe. The secretary’s letter also sought to encourage Jackson to greater prowess and glory. He reminded him that the British had planned their conquest and used their best troops from the Napoleonic War to attack other parts of the United States, and it had all “gloriously failed!” Now there would be “a final blow against NewO rleans. It will, I hope, close there its inglorious career, in such a repulse as will reflect new honor on theA merican arms.”10 after his experiences at Pensacola and Mobile, Jackson needed little encouragement to confront the British. Commander Daniel Patterson had previously sent his five gunboats and a tender, as outposts, into the waters around Pass Christian. These were the few boats allotted to him to control pirate activity, and now they were the eyes and ears of General Jackson’s incipient army. They were under the command of Lieutenant Thomas Ap Catsby “Tac” Jones. Jones had further dispatched two of the boats toward Dauphin Island, near the entrance to Mobile Bay, to provide a distant early warning. On December 10, those two boats, Nos. 23 and 163, under the commands of Lieutenant Isaac McKeever and Sailing Master Robert Ul- rick, first spotted the approaching British ships, and raced back toward the New Orleans station to sound the alarm.11 Patterson ordered Jones to position his boats to deny an amphibious landing, should the enemy decide to enter Lake Borgne. If they entered, the 228 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Attack on Lake Borgne, December 13. Lossing, Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812, 1868. boats were to engage the enemy and fight on until they might be in danger of capture, and only then to fall back to a final defensive position. That final position would be with their backs to the wall at the Rigolets Pass leading into Lake Pontchartrain, and under the protective guns of the mud fort of Petite Coquilles. Jones accordingly took up his original defensive position at Pass Chris- tian, blocking the waters leading into Lake Borgne, and waited. For two days he held that position, fighting to hold a straight defensive line with his five sloops as wildly fluctuating tides pushed and pulled on them. Sometimes they floated free and sometimes they were grounded, and their line was anything but straight. On December 13, the approaching British fleet spotted him. “Sir Alexander Cochrane and General Keane [had] determined to effect a landing somewhere on the banks of theL ake [Borgne],” said British Lieutenant George Gleig, “and to push directly on to take possession of the town, before any effectual preparation could be made for its defense.”12 a landing “somewhere on the banks” of Lake Borgne meant that the attackers would first have to encounter Jones’s defensive line.H aving spotted the American ships, the British fleet anchored in the shallowest water possible before going aground between Cat Island and Ship Island, and transferred the invading troops to landing vessels powered mostly by oars. the final attack 229

When all were embarked, gun brigs convoyed the landing craft toward the Jones line. “We had not gone far,” said Gleig, “when it was apparent that the Ameri- cans were well acquainted with our intentions, and ready to receive us. Five large cutters, armed with six heavy guns each were seen at anchor in the distance. . . . As long as they commanded the navigation of the Lake, no boats could venture to dross.”13 The British had no other options than dealing with “Tac” Jones. They determined that, whatever the cost, Jones had to be eliminated, or the whole operation would collapse. “A flotilla of launches and ship’s barges was got ready for that purpose,”14 said Gleig. This makeshift flotilla was an ingenious British concoction.F aced with the unexpected, the British command responded by rigging and outfitting forty-five open boats to attack Jones’s sloops.F orty-two of the boats had a single carronade—a short smooth-bore cannon—mounted in the bow, and were loaded with 1,000 volunteers from the various warships. For their propulsion, British seamen, under the command of Captain Lockyer, would strain at the twelve oars of each craft. Jones had taken up his blocking position across the entrance to Lake Borgne in the confined waters between Pass Christian on the Gulf Coast and Malheureaux Island. At 10:00 a.m., he had the British landing force in sight and watched them as they appeared to be attempting a landing at Pass Christian. But they turned and continued rowing to the west, directly toward his gunboats. Three of those boats, Nos. 156, 162, and 163, although defensively aligned in the channel, were now stuck on the bottom. The water level had dropped a dramatic eighteen inches over the past few days. Seeing the approaching British attackers, the crews jettisoned everything except what was vital in an effort to lessen the draught. Finally as the rising tide crept in, they were able to free themselves from the gripping bottom. Jones saw that the best plan was to head for his fallback position by the Rigolets and under the guns of Fort Petite Coquilles. If he stayed where he was, the calm wind and the tricky tides would not allow him to maneuver to confront the British boats. But as he tried to move, the British closed rapidly upon him. Three of the advancing boats suddenly broke off from the rest and veered to the right and into Bay St. Louis, where they saw the fleet’s tender,Seahorse, frantically trying to remove vital supplies lest they be captured. 230 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

But Seahorse was literally in a box canyon of water. With no escape possible, the small sloop turned to face its attackers and drove them off with several blasts of grapeshot from its single gun. Temporarily stunned, the three boats were soon joined by four more, like a wolf pack on a single prey. Seahorse, recognizing the danger, quickly moved to a better position in the bay, under the guns of two six-pounder shore batteries. Again the seven British boats bore down on Seahorse, and in a thirty-minute showdown, the American boat, assisted by the shore batteries, hammered the attackers, inflicting substantial damage and forcing the British to break off the action. But Seahorse was still trapped in the bay, and with escape impossible, it would be only a matter of time before the superior British force would overwhelm her and capture her for use in the invasion. At 7:30 that evening she blew herself up and set fire to the valuable storehouse.15 Jones, meanwhile, was caught in the grip of the shallow bottom, and there was no wind to maneuver to his final line at theR igolets Pass and the fort. “About 1 A.M on the 14th,” he said, “the wind having entirely died away, and our vessels became unmanageable; came to anchor in the west end of Malheureaux Island’s passage. At daylight next morning, still a perfect calm, the enemy’s flotilla was about nine miles from us at anchor.”16 But the British did not remain long at anchor. The forty-five attack barges suddenly surged forward toward him, and through his glass he could see the sailors straining at the oars. “Tac” Jones watched the steady advance. He had barely freed himself from the grip of the shallow bottom, but still there was no wind, and worse yet, the ebbing tide wanted to further push him out from this defensive position. With no way to retreat, he saw no other options but to stand and fight where he was. His five gunboats were anchored with their broadsides facing the onrushing British boats, but they were not in a straight line. The line was slightly zigzagged. No. 23, commanded by Lieutenant Isaac McKeever, with five guns and thirty-nine men, was closest to Malheureaux Island on the American right. Jones’s own No. 156, with five guns and forty-one men, was next; then No. 5, with five guns and thirty-six men, commanded by Sailing Master John Ferris; followed by No. 162, with Lieutenant Robert Spedden, with five guns and thirty-five men. Nearest the mainland was No. 163, withS ailing Master Robert Ulrick; it was the smallest of the gunboats, with only three guns and thirty-one men.17 “The want of wind, and the strong ebb-tide,” said Jones, “left me but one alternative; which was to put myself in the most advantageous position, to give the enemy as warm a reception as possible.”18 the final attack 231

he had, the previous night, called all his commanders aboard his ship and detailed his plan. The boats were to form a “close line abreast across the channel, anchored by the stern with springs on the cable. Thus we remained anxiously awaiting an attack from the advancing foe, whose force I now clearly distinguished.”19 in the attack flotilla, Lieutenant Gleig watched as his boat approached the drawn-up American battle line. He would have to face the combined American force of twenty-three guns on the five gunboats and 182 men. His own force could outgun the Americans with forty-two guns, but how many hits would they take approaching the Americans? “Having pulled a considerable distance, [Captain Lockyer] resolved to refresh his men before he hurried them into action; and, therefore, letting fall grapplings just beyond reach of the enemy’s guns, the crews of the different boats coolly ate their dinner.”20 after an hour’s rest, the boats resumed their backbreaking row toward the Americans. But the same calm and ebb tide that trapped Jones also slowed the British advance. They moved out of their double-column formation and formed a battle line with all boats abreast of each other. “It was not long before the enemy’s guns opened,” said Gleig, “and a tremendous shower of balls saluted [our] approach. Some boats were sunk, others disabled, and many men were killed and wounded; but the rest pulled with all their might, and occasionally returned the discharges from their carronades, and succeeded, after an hour’s labour, in closing with the Americans.21 “At 10:30,” said Jones, “the enemy line weighed, forming a line abreast in open order, and steered direct for our line, which was unfortunately in some degree broken by the force of the current, driving Nos. 156 and 163 about one hundred yards in advance [of the line]. As soon as the enemy came within reach of our shot, a deliberate fire from our long guns was opened upon him. . . . At 10 minutes before 11, the enemy opened a fire from the whole line when action became general and destructive on both sides.”22 in an hour, the three most advanced British boats attempted to board Jones’s No. 156, vulnerably exposed forward of the main line. But 156’s gunners drove them off, inflicting multiple casualties and sinking two.F our other British boats joined in the attack on No. 156, only to also be driven off, but in that second attack, Lieutenant Tac Jones was severely wounded when a musket ball smashed into his shoulder. His crew dragged him below deck and Master Mate George Parker assumed command.23 232 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

The British continued to drive forward and fought through the hail of American fire until they had gained the sides of No. 156. S“ truggling over the gunwales, they clawed their way aboard in a desperate hand-to-hand action.” George Parker also fell wounded, and the British soldiers and marines swarmed across the decks. “The [British] Marines now began a deadly discharge of musketry,” said Lieutenant Gleig, “while the seamen sword in hand sprang up the vessels sides in spite of all opposition, and sabering every man that stood in the way hauled down the American ensign and hoisted the British flag in its place.”24 The attackers instantly moved to haul on the spring lines and swing the American boat so that its broadside guns now bore on No. 163. One by one the American gunboats were overwhelmed in the same way: No. 163, then 162, and then No. 5. As each one fell, its guns were fired on the remaining sloops. At 12:40 the final boat, No. 23, surrendered.25 The advanced position of Jones’s No. 156 had been the Achilles Heel of the entire American defensive line; and instead of a line of interlocked boats providing mutual covering fire, No. 156 was vulnerably advanced to the front and able to be attacked singly. When it fell, its cannons began the crushing of the entire American line. The casualties were substantial on both sides: the British lost 17 killed and 77 wounded. The Americans had 6 killed, 35 wounded, and 86 captured.26 But the British now controlled Lake Borgne and were free to move in and out of the American waters without the prying eyes of Lieutenant Jones’s gunboats watching. And they lost no time in doing just that. Immediately after the last shots of the Battle of Lake Borgne had been fired, the lighter troop transports crossed the bar and entered the lake with the vanguard of the invading army. They sailed until they ran aground in the shallow waters, and then the troops transferred into smaller boats. Just as the forty-five attacking boats had been forced to row more than forty miles to engage Jones’s sloops, now the invasion force rowed another thirty miles to the Isle-aux-Poix [Pea Island], also known as Pearl Island, at the mouth of the Pearl River. They arrived on December 16 and found the island to be a deserted spot, with sparse scrub growth dotting the sand, and barren of anything edible. “We had roughish work of it,” said Midship- man Robert Aitchison,” sleeping in the open boats with only our sails for covering, and salt provisions which hunger sometimes compelled us to eat two day’s dinners at once.”27 the final attack 233

adding to the soldiers’ miseries was a severe frost that froze “the wet clothes on the bodies of the men and causing many deaths, especially among the black troops, brought in from the West Indies.”28 “It is scarcely possible to imagine any place more completely wretched,” said Lieutenant Gleig. “There were indeed, a few stinted firs upon the very edge of the water . . . hardly to deserve a higher classification than among the meanest of shrubs; and the pools and creeks with which it was intercepted abounded in dor- mant alligators.29 although it was grim, it was the only place to gather an army of that size to prepare for an assault. For the next four days, troops were ferried, by oars, from the fleet to this rendezvous spot. By December 20, General Keane’s army was finally assembled.30 “On the part of the navy,” said Gleig, “all these hardships were experienced in a four-fold degree. Night and day were boats pulling from the fleet to the island, and from the island to the fleet.” 31 The American captured gunboats also served to transport the British invaders. They had been renamed HMS Ambush, Firebrand, Destruction, Harlequin, and Eagle.

On December 10, at the very time when gunboats Nos. 23 and 163 first spotted the British fleet approaching the vicinity of Mobile on their approach to New Orleans, a strange drama unfolded four thousand miles away at the negotiating table in Ghent. The negotiators were locked in an unresolved dispute over the word possessions. A single word had the eight plenipotentiaries agonizingly disputing its use. On first examination, this odd argument seemed to be much ado about nothing and could have been properly labeled as silly debate between two spoiled-brat boys’ clubs—one seeking to continue its history of foot-dragging, and the other splitting hairs over nothing. The matter at hand was the proposed change of this one word in the opening sentence of the proposed Article 1 to bring about peace. At this stage, the fiveA merican negotiators were desirous of an honorable peace, and in fact were prepared to forgo further demands concerning impressments and ship-seizing demanded by the British Orders in Council—the original causes of the war. In 1812, things had been quite different. Napoleon had been an international menace on the Continent, and Britain was his chief adversary. 234 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

But in December of 1814, Napoleon’s defeat had brought an end to those provocative British practices, and the matter seemed to have drifted into a state of limbo to be ironed out at a later time. At the same time, politically, Americans were divided into two camps concerning the war. The New England states not only opposed the war but had shamelessly supported and supplied the British Army, while refusing to provide any militia to the nation’s call to arms. There was also a movement among those states to secede unless Mr. Madison’s War was ended. None of this turmoil was lost on London, and the government was encouraged to exploit this situation. The American negotiators had been authorized to seek to end the war on the terms of status quo ante bellum—a return to the way things were before the war. On the British side, their three-man team had moved at a snail’s pace to even arrive at Ghent and begin negotiations, and when it did, only three weeks before the burning of Washington, the three displayed a hostile and arrogant attitude; they led off negotiation with objectionable and far- fetched demands, none of which had anything to do with resolving the issues that had caused the war. The Americans, from the beginning, were suspicious concerning British motives. After receiving their unfounded demands, “It was the unanimous opinion of the American ministers that Great Britain’s policy was to consume as much time as possible . . . in order that some decided victory might be gained in the war which would make it easier for her to insist on her demands.”32 The British had proposed terms based upon ending the war with each side keeping the territory it possessed (uti possidetis). After their raids and attacks along the Atlantic coast, and the successful torching of Washington, they seemed to be in a strong position to make that demand, and some of the major cities along the Chesapeake were certainly in mortal danger of falling under the British flag. But their two attempts at further conquest, especially to conquer a significant American city, had failed in their military and naval defeats at Baltimore, Plattsburg, and Lake Champlain. The idea of peace terms based on uti possidetis was greatly compromised by those losses and finally shattered when Wellington bluntly informed Lords Liverpool and Bathurst that they were in no position to demand land cessions when their army was in possession of none. And in the few places where the British Army was actually on American soil, Wellington had scoffed that one “might as well the final attack 235 claim the sovereignty of the ground on which his piquets stand, or over which his patrols pass.”33 if this observation was shattering to Lord Liverpool, Wellington’s next advice must have given the prime minister a glimmer of hope and comfort. “If you had territory,” the Iron Duke said, “as I hope you soon will have New Orleans, I should prefer to insist upon the cession of that province as a separate article than upon the uti possidetis as a principle of negotiation.”34 wellington had used the word “province,” not “city,” and the province was the Louisiana territory. During the course of negotiations, the Brit- ish government had avoided at all cost discussions that would be adverse to their long-standing desire for the Louisiana Territory. When they had demanded that the northwest boundary of the United State be fixed at the juncture of the Lake of the Woods (bordering present-day Minnesota) and the Mississippi River, the Americans countered that they would agree to that if, at the same time, the boundaries of Louisiana should also be provided in the settlement. At this, the British balked. Frantic letters were exchanged between the government and the negotiators to avoid all mention of Louisiana, or boundaries. They were unwilling to discuss this lest it be interpreted as Britain’s recognition of any boundary. Henry Goulburn, one of the Brit- ish negotiators at Ghent, perfectly described this dilemma. “To accede to the proposition . . . of discussing the boundary of Louisiana, might be considered as a recognition by us of their right to occupy the country; and to accede to it with the reservation proposed as to the country beyond the Stony [Rocky] Mountains would be to abandon to their encroachment the northwestern coast of America.”35 Goulburn also included a very revealing note concerning his understanding of problems that might be couched in any discussions concerning the Louisiana boundary or the Mississippi River. “If we go into discussion as to the boundary of Louisiana, it would be most desirable to have a map of Canada, as claimed by the French in 1760 . . . which must be somewhere in the office.”36 Goulburn’s anxiety for that map is understandable. It showed the Mississippi River rising in Canada, not in Minnesota, where latter-day geography correctly placed it. During this time of excessive British demands, hidden from public knowledge by the secrecy of the negotiations, President James Madison must have become fed up with British foot-dragging, deception, and out- 236 the war of 1812, conflict and deception rageous demands. He decided to shine a revealing light into the shadows of the secret British negotiations by publishing, in all the newspapers, the full scope of the onerous demands made by the British. That full disclosure of the secret diplomatic moves riled the American public, and that now- informed public joined ranks behind Madison. It was an unexpected and devastating blow to London. The Liverpool government lambasted the Americans for violating the secrecy of the negotiations, but its howling fell on deaf ears—including the ears of its own countrymen. Even a member of the House of Lords expressed shock and dismay over these British tactics and excesses. The marquis of Lansdowne said that while he had been willing to support the British position of “perpetual British allegiance and impressment,” he was not wil ling to support a war “for conquest of territory, for lakes, or the Indians.”37 By November 27, the differences between the warring parties had been reduced to settling fishing rights and navigation of the Mississippi River. Why these two subjects should have been in question is not readily apparent. Both rights—fishing for the Americans and navigation for the British— should not have been disputed. Both rights had been guaranteed by the Treaty of 1783, but now Britain insisted they be reestablished, in a new treaty, claiming that the old one had been abrogated by the outbreak of the new war. The Americans rejected that claim. Henry Clay was incensed and argued that the two rights were not in the least comparable; fishing privileges were of much less value than navigation of the Mississippi.38 But the British had also made an additional change to Article 1 of the proposed agreement. It was a puzzling change, and dealt with mutual restoration of property and territory. They had substituted their own words for the proposed wording in the article that addressed the subject. The original restoration wording said “taken by either party from the other.” The British had substituted the words, “belonging to either party and taken by the other.”39 The Americans objected, for all the obvious reasons. John Quincy Adams reasoned that the clause would make restoration of any territory based on occupation and not on right. If a country seized territory before a war, at war’s end, by those terms, it would only be obliged to return whatever had been seized during the war. It also would open the door for a country to seize territory and occupy it and then, at war’s end, claim that it was in dispute. Adams had detected a huge flaw in applying that language. I“ t would enable either party to refuse giving up at its option any portion of the possessions of the other taken by it, merely by saying, ‘This does not belong to you.’”40 the final attack 237

The Americans rejected the proposal and demanded the original wording calling for restitution of all possessions. The British countered with a revealing thought. “Both parties should retain possession of any territory the right of which was in dispute.”41 The British negotiators explained that the reason they were insisting on the revised wording was almost insignificant in the whole scheme of things. It had to do with possession of the tiny islands in the Passamaquoddy Bay, which they now occupied and which they had previously disputed as American possessions. They claimed that although the United States was in possession of these islands at the beginning of the war, they always belonged to Nova Scotia and should be returned to Great Britain. The Americans said that those islands were part of the state of Massachusetts and, although the British occupied them, they should be returned to the United States as called for by the article on mutual restitution.42 The British dug in their heels. They insisted on the wording “belonging to either party and taken by the other.” They explained that this was consistent with the principle of status quo ante bellum. There was a “manifest difference,” said the British commissioners, “between the restitution of territory which unquestionably belonged to either party, previous to the war, and the restitution of that of which either party may have had temporary possession immediately preceding the war.43 They argued that although Massachusetts possessed the islands, it was a temporary possession. They really always belonged to the Crown. Still the Americans balked at the change of the wording. The Passama- quoddy Islands belonged to Massachusetts, and any such agreement would give Great Britain temporary possession of them, and that was not status quo! Now the British commissioners doubled down on their insistence of the new wording that seemed insignificant in the matter of several tiny islands. The war had not been fought over them, and this discussion threatened to move the peace process to the brink of collapse. But all this had nothing to do with the islands. It was a brilliant, high- stakes gamble, most likely a bluff, but it proved the real importance of this concession to the overall British plan and strategy. What nation’s government, anxious to end a war, especially after being rebuffed by its own Parliament, would push to this extreme on such a tiny subject if it was not absolutely vital? The British commissioners pressed their demand to the fullest and even sought to appeal to the Americans’ sense of fairness and compassion by ad- 238 the war of 1812, conflict and deception mitting that the islands indeed had a minuscule value, but they considered it a matter of British honor. If the Americans were to deny their satisfying that national honor, it might jeopardize the whole matter of peace.44 The ensuing breakdown would be America’s fault. Was continued war worth not giving in on this small concession? American commissioner Jonathan Russell thought this appeal was strange. “They asserted that the honour of Great Britain was concerned in this retention,” he said, “but were not very intelligible in the reasons they assigned for this assertion.”45 The American Commissioners wrote to James Monroe, “We finally consented, as an alternative preferable to a continuance of the war.”46 The Americans stipulated, however, that the Passamaquoddy Islands would be this one exception to the status quo protocol.47 As such, the final draft was to read, “All territories, places, and possessions, whatsoever, taken by either party from the other during the War, or which may be taken after the signing of this, excepting only the Islands hereinafter mentioned, shall be restored without delay and without causing any destruction or carrying away any of the artillery . . . etc.” The wording rambled on for many sentences and seemed innocent enough, but the poison pill buried in that wording, and key to the whole British plan, was contained in the fifth word: “possessions.” “By reason of that word, the British were in a position to maintain after capturing Louisiana that it was not subject to return under the mutual restoration clause adopted, not being, under English construction a legal ‘possession’ of the United States, formal notice of that construction having been given in the treaty negotiations.”48 The full power of a ratified treaty would be most persuasive in any court relative to the British claim to Loui- siana for Spain. Further proof of British intentions can be found in other wording of the terms of Article 1 of the proposed treaty. Possessions “which may be taken after the signing of this,” were also supposed to be mutually restored. But Britain had no doubt that its occupation of New Orleans would not be subject to restoration, since they would be occupying territory that the United States did not legally possess. New Orleans would certainly have been “taken” after the signing of the treaty, so if the British believed in this restoration clause, why would they continue their southern expedition only to give it back? The answer was, of course, it was not to be given back! Britain had long and loudly made the the final attack 239 claim that Louisiana was not a possession of the United States, just as the Passamaquoddy Islands were not a possession; they viewed the Americans as temporary occupiers. Britain would be on solid legal grounds, since the Americans had agreed in a treaty to arbitrate this similar Passamaquoddy case; but in contrast to the Passamaquoddy case, where the British currently occupied the land with no hope of sustaining that occupation, they would occupy and be in possession of New Orleans and control the Mississippi River with a conquering army, with no military challengers to dispute their claim. And that claim might even seem magnanimous to the rest of the world who would be called upon to arbitrate the matter, since it was not for Brit- ain’s own land aggrandizement that she would have attacked and seized New Orleans, but to restore the rights to the land of the Louisiana Purchase to the true victim of the theft, Spain. John Quincy Adams had not figured out these well-hidden details to the scheme, but as time went on, he deeply distrusted the British motives. He could not put his finger on it, but their very behavior hinted at something sinister. The British had done a complete about-face at Ghent and had either ignored or referred the settlement of every disputed subject to future determination. They had given up all they had demanded from the beginning, for the inclusion of the single word possessions in the treaty. The shrouded purpose of that demand seemed, innocently, to be a matter of honor over a few insignificant islands in Passamaquoddy Bay. Gone were their demands for land cessions, their right to impress, their right to free navigation of the Mississippi, and especially their demands for creation of Indian lands and boundaries that had earlier risen to the level of sine qua non. Those original demands had been onerous, and James Bayard had described them as demands of “a Conqueror to a conquered People.”49 Now they had all been discarded. So why the about-face? It puzzled Quincy Adams. “My anxiety was greater than it had been at any period of the negotiations . . . infinitely greater than when their demands had been so extravagant. . . . When I saw them abandoning everything of any value in their demands, and stubbornly ad- hering to hairs, merely . . . to keep the negotiations open, I could not but deeply distrust their intentions. They clung to atoms involving principles.”50 in the end the agreements in the treaty never addressed the subjects of the war. Historian Henry Adams wrote, “Thus the treaty became simply a cessation of hostilities, leaving every claim on either side open for future 240 the war of 1812, conflict and deception settlement.”51 And that’s exactly what the British wanted. The Americans had agreed to a future settlement of the Passamaquoddy Islands and now could hardly object, under the same terms, to a settlement of the disputed Louisiana Purchase.

The news of the defeat and capture of Jones’s gunboats at the entrance to Lake Borgne was electric in New Orleans. Commodore Patterson pleaded with Governor Claiborne for men to man his other boats now that he had lost so many in the battle. The legislature passed an emergency resolution authorizing six thousand dollars to provide a bounty of twenty-four dollars for any seaman who would enlist for three months. More than seventy men signed up. Four days after the battle, Jackson reviewed the New Orleans militia, including Major Jean-Baptiste Plauche’s battalion, which he sent to outpost Fort St. John, reinforced by Lieutenant Henry Wagner’s light artillery. Included in his review were the troops of the Free Men of color. One battalion was under the command of Major Charles Louis d’Aquin of the Second Regiment of militia, who, twenty-four years earlier, had fled for his life from his home in Saint Domingue during a night of terror. Jackson also ordered every man to oppose the enemy at every point and, if the enemy approached, to do all that was possible to slow them down and deny them from living off the land by removing from their grasp anything that could assist them. He pronounced his order of the day, encouraging all citizens, “to do their duty . . . and bear the fatigues incident to a state of war . . . and teach them in [the] future to respect the rights of liberty and the property of freemen.”52 But despite his exhortations, the city was in panic. Their fleet had been defeated in Lake Borgne; the enemy was expected to attack at any time, and the population was hardly free from spies and sympathizers. No one needed to remind the women in the city of the British rape of Hampton, or the burning of Havre de Grace, or of Washington. Everyone knew the battle cry of “Booty and Beauty.” And Governor Claiborne’s exhortations to the legislature concerning suspending the rights of habeas corpus were ignored, as was the suggestion that it take a few weeks off during this crisis. Left with no other choice to take control of the city, Jackson declared martial law on December 16. Now everyone was a potential soldier, and he sought to control spies by imposing the final attack 241 a 9:00 p.m. curfew. Anyone caught on the street would be arrested as a spy. No one came into the city without checking in, and no one left without the general’s permission.53 The day before that declaration, Jackson’s aide-de-camp, Thomas Butler, sought to calm the people and bolster their sagging spirits. He said that the general was surprised by this air of gloom. While it was true that the enemy was on the coast, there was no reason to doubt that the citizens would beat him at every point, that the public should not believe the rumors being spread by spies and sympathizers. Butler described the British as “the vital enemy of your country, the common enemy of mankind, the highway robber of the world that threatens you, and has sent his hirelings amongst you . . . to put you off your guard, that you may fall an easy prey to him.”54 revealing in Butler’s speech to the citizens is a sentence showing that British intentions were not as secret as they might have hoped. He said, “British emissaries have been permitted to propagate seditious reports among you, that the threatened invasion is with a view of restoring the country to Spain, from a supposition that some of you would be willing to return to your ancient government.”55 whether that objective had been whispered to the public for the pur- poses that Butler suggested, it was an accurate statement of proven British intentions. Jackson sent express riders to inform Generals John Coffee and William Carroll about the loss at Lake Borgne and to urge them to hurry to New Orleans with their troops. He also informed the secretary of war about the state of affairs and the impeding attack and ordered all bayous and canals that could lead to dry land and provide access for the British invaders, blocked.

On December 16, while the British force rowed to Isle-aux-Poix, two British officers undertook a reconnaissance to find the route to a suitable landing area. Army lieutenant John Preddie and navy captain Robert Spencer sought to find the mouth of Bayou Bienvenue.A dmiral Cochrane and Gen- eral Keane had determined from local intelligence that this bayou would lead them to the land nine miles south of New Orleans, on the east bank of the Mississippi River.56 It was a large bayou, more than one hundred yards wide, and with enough depth to be easily traveled by the large landing barges. A number of smaller bayous and canals drained into Bienvenue, 242 the war of 1812, conflict and deception and the largest, Bayou Mazant (Villere) seemed to offer much promise as an avenue to solid land. At the end of Bayou Mazant was a canal that drained the Villere Plantation. The two officers navigated acrossL ake Borgne, readily found the mouth of Bayou Bienvenue, and slowly moved up it for about a mile to where they approached a thatched-roof Spanish and Portuguese fishing village of twelve large cabins able to hold 300 men. Conveniently located, it provided, by way of several canals, access to the plantation lands south of New Orleans for easy transport into the city.57 upon their approach to the village, the two British officers were obviously known, since they were greeted and furnished disguises of blue shirts and tarpaulins to look just like the other fishermen. They engaged two of the gathered number to paddle them in a pirogue up the Villere Canal to the plantation, where they stepped out onto dry land. These first two men of the invading British army leisurely walked the several hundred yards across the field to the banks of the Mississippi and surveyed all that was about them. Shortly after gathering whatever intelligence they could, they retraced their steps to the pirogue, and sailed back to Isle-aux-Poix with their report. All the fishermen accompanied them to serve as future pilots and guides.58 on that hostile island were also other strange faces. They were deserters who had abandoned New Orleans and cast in their lot with the invading British. Several Americans delighted in relating the alarm that gripped New Orleans. “They assured us that there were not at present 5,000 soldiers in the State,” said Lieutenant Gleig. The citizens who remained in the city “were ready to join us as soon as we should appear among them; and . . . we might lay our account with a speedy and bloodless conquest.” The deserters widened the eyes of the willing listeners with tales of “the large quantities of government stores there collected, and the rich booty which would reward its capture; subjects well calculated to tickle the fancy of invaders.”59 The day after the clandestine reconnaissance by Lieutenant Preddie and Captain Spencer, a squad of twelve men from the Louisiana Third Regi- ment of militia embarked by boat from the Villere Plantation to the fishing village to outpost it, since it was recognized as a possible British avenue of approach. When they arrived at the village, they strangely found only one sick man there. There rest had “gone fishing,” but in reality they were on the final attack 243

I sle-aux-Poix waiting to lead the invading force to the landing area. Several men of the militia squad embarked out into the lake but observed nothing and returned. They then occupied the village and posted one man forward of the last cabin as a sentinel for the rest of the night.60

From the day of his arrival in the panicked city of New Orleans, General Andrew Jackson had been faced with a daunting task. He first had to instill some confidence in the local population and convince them that all was not lost; that if everyone stood together, the British were not invincible and could be beaten. From the elevated gallery of his headquarters at 106 Royal Street, visible to the assembled crowd, he vowed to defeat the invaders. Standing next to him, translating every word into French, was Edward Livingston. As if he was swearing on the altar of God, Jackson proclaimed, “I will drive our enemies into the sea, or perish in the effort. Good citizens, you must all rally around me.”61 he made a grand show of reviewing the only unit that had a little glit- ter, and that was the uniformed companies of New Orleans militia led by Major d’Aquin. Their bright uniforms, precision, and impressive equipment encouraged all who watched them march smartly by.62 But that unit was the exception and not the rule. Most of the defenders were unarmed, untrained, and ill-equipped; in fact Jackson thought the entire place was “destitute of every means of formidable defense.” 63 The defenses of the city were in deplorable condition, and Jackson had gone on a whirlwind inspection to attempt to improve them. He also had political fights to win if the city was to have a chance of survival. Political squabbling would waste valuable time and endanger preparations for defense. In the end, when those squabbles threatened to do just that, Jackson declared martial law. His assembled fighting forces, to be placed in a line to confront the attacking British veteran army, seemed less than impressive. General Coffee’s crack troops were on the move from Baton Rouge, and Brigadier General William Carroll was working his way south with other Tennesseans, via the Columbia, Ohio, and Mississippi Rivers. A third 2,300-man force of Kentuckians, under the command of Major General John Thomas, was also trying to work its way south by the rivers to join Jackson; but this group, 244 the war of 1812, conflict and deception though long of zeal, was short of arms and ammunition and were mostly unarmed. A contingent of 150 Mississippi Dragoons under Major Thomas Hinds was also on the move. Jackson was critically short of arms and ammunition, and a supply scheduled from Pittsburg was nowhere to be found. On December 13, Car- roll’s men arrived in Natchez on flatboats and unexpectedly found the Pitts- burg supplies. It was a treasure trove of arms and ammo on a loaded keelboat bound for General Jackson. Carroll said, “It was freighted with 1400 stands of Arms and ammunition for use of the Army. With the keelboat in tow, they took the opportunity to outfit themselves.64 strangely, Jackson also found a surprise source of arms and ammunition. That source was the “hellish banditti” of Lafitte’s pirates, who were now an integral part of the defending force. “I procured from them 7500 flints for pistols and boarding peaces sic[ ], which was solely the supply of flints for all my militia and if it had not been for this providential aid the country must have fallen.”65 lafitte had bragged that he had enough ammunition to outfit a 30,000- man army!66 Now some of the pirates formed into their own units, while others attached themselves to the forces manning the ramparts at Forts St. John on the bayou, at St. Philip down the river, and at Petite Coquilles at the Rigolets. The Free Men of color battalions of the state militia were little different from the other battalions in that they also had no arms or ammunition. They were mainly formed of black refugees from the revolts in Saint Domingue twenty years earlier. Colonel Michael Fortier Jr. came to the rescue. He was a veteran of Spanish governor Bernardo Galvez’s campaigns against the British as a youth, and he had fought with free colored troops in those wars. He was well respected by all, and all colored battalions had been placed under his control. In this moment of crisis, Fortier supplied and armed the troops of the original battalion and was instrumental in forming a second battalion utilizing the companies of Captain Joseph Savary, who, along with his other officers, was immediately commissioned by the governor. The battalion command was then given to Major Louis d’Aquin, whom the members of the battalion had elected to lead them. This new battalion of Savary’s company was quickly mustered in on December 19, and was officially called d’Aquin’s Battalion.67 the final attack 245

on hand in New Orleans were Jackson’s only regular troops: almost 450 men of the Seventh U.S. Infantry Regiment along with 350 men from the Forty-Fourth Regiment, and a 58-man marine detachment under the command of Major Daniel Carmick. With some supporting and miscellaneous units, the entire force of regulars approached 1,000. The citizens of New Orleans girded themselves for war. In a city of approximately 18,000, eliminating women, children, and the aged, there were about 2,000 men available to bear arms; and all able bodied men, except Englishmen, were pressed into service. Private hospitals opened and women staffed them. The older men formed their own self-defense group as a home guard to protect the city and became roving patrols.68 a Virginia gentleman, Thomas Beale, formed a company of Americans called Beale’s Rifles. O“ r, as New Orleans calls them, Beale’s famous rifles,” wrote historian Grace King, “in their blue hunting shirts and citizens’ hats, their long bores [Kentucky rifles] over their shoulders, sharp-shooters and picked shots every one of them, all young, active, intelligent volunteers, from the best in the professional and business circles”69 finally, on December 20, Jackson’s long-awaited reinforcements began to arrive. Hinds came in with his Mississippians, and General Coffee was a welcome sight with his “Dirty Shirts.” But only 800 of his 1,250 men were with him; the rest, slowed by the grueling pace of the march from Baton Rouge, were limping along behind. Their rugged appearance matched their warrior reputation. Their uniforms were not of pomp and ceremony but were “woolen hunting shirts, of dark or dingy color, and copperas-dyed pantaloons, made at home by their wives, mothers, and sisters, with slouching wool hats, some composed of skins of raccoons, and foxes, . . . with belts of untanned deer-skin, in which were stuck hunting-knives and tomahawks.” And the men were lean and gaunt, “with their long unkempt hair and unshorn faces.” The British called them “a posse comitatus, wearing broad beavers, armed with long duck guns.”70 Those “duck guns” were the famous Kentucky rifles, .38 caliber flintlock rifled weapons with forty-two-inch barrels, renowned for their accuracy. General Carroll’s men came in on Coffee’s heels, arriving on the levee in an assortment of flatboats and barges. They had arrived after a fifteen- hundred-mile approach to help defend this distant city that was far from their own homes. They had left Nashville on November 19, and now, a 246 the war of 1812, conflict and deception month later, Carroll brought in a regiment of young, eager, and inexperienced men. But to offset their inexperience, they were, like most Tennessee boys, good riflemen and sharpshooters; and because they had intercepted the keelboats, carrying their arms, on their journey down the river, they were also now well armed.71 and General Jackson’s intelligence continued to be as good as it had ever been. After the military review on December 18, Major Plauche moved to defend Bayou St. John and the bridge spanning it, and he reconnoitered the whole surrounding area, including an inspection of Fort St. John. While he was conferring with the fort’s officer, Major Hughes, two small schooners approached from the east—from the direction of the Rigolets. The two occupants were a white man named Brown and his passenger, a negro named Michaud. The fort’s soldiers boarded them and immediately suspected them to be spies, and Major Hughes closely questioned Brown, who readily told him that he had seen 348 barges, each carrying 40 to 50 men of infantry and cavalry, and two regiments of negroes, and that this force had disembarked on the Isle-aux-Poix. They were also accompanied by more than twenty armed ships. Major Plauche questioned Michaud. He told him that he was only here as a pilot for Brown, who had paid him as a guide, and confirmed Brown’s story; he added that the British had even sought to retain him as their own pilot. Those two men were hustled off to General Jackson’s headquarters, and it was from them that Jackson first learned that the enemy was gathering on the Isle-aux-Poix. But Michaud provided other information. He was carrying a letter signed by someone named “Labat” and was to deliver it to the man’s sister, living in New Orleans. Labat had written about the British presence in Pass Christian and the defeat of the American boats on Lake Borgne. The accuracy of his details left no doubt of his reliability. He added a panicked warning to his sister about the British. “They give no quarter, but in four days will enter the city. Hasten to leave, for they will burn everything that comes their way. They have burnt [our] seahouse and storehouse. . . . I beg of you in any event to retire to the swamp, for there are too many risks to run. It is the city they are aiming for.72 on December 20, four nuns sat around a table in their convent on Char- tres Street and reviewed a letter that each had signed. These were the leaders of the Ursuline nuns, who had been a fixture in New Orleans culture the final attack 247 and education since 1727, long before there was an America and when New Orleans had been the capital of the French colony of Louisiana. When New Orleans became part of the United States, President Thomas Jefferson had reassured the Ursulines that their property would be “preserved to you, sacred and inviolate, and that your institution will be permitted to govern itself according to its own voluntary rules, without interfer- ence from the civil authority. . . . I salute you, holy sisters, with friendship and respect.”73 well, that had been ten years earlier, and Thomas Jefferson was no longer president or in any position to fulfill his promises, and his guarantees meant nothing if the British captured New Orleans. These were French sisters from Rouen, and although they had been in the city for almost ninety years, they could anticipate nothing good at the hands of the enemy. To many of New Orleans’s other “French” citizens, terror had been part of their lives during the 1790s horrors at Saint Domingue. Their lands and homes had been torched, their family members killed and butchered, and the most unmentionable atrocities inflicted upon the innocent by rampaging savages whose battle standard had been the dead body of a French baby gruesomely skewered on the point of a spear. Major d’Aquin, Captain Savary, and the Free Men of color were just such refugees among an enormous population of other former citizens who had been forced to flee Saint Domingue. These nuns knew all the stories, and now they saw another enemy force, part of which was notorious for similar barbarity. They had carefully composed a letter to General Jackson. They had wanted to contact Jackson from the first moment of his arrival, but had refrained from doing so, knowing that Jackson’s schedule precluded it, but they later told him, “[We] kept us for a time at a distance, waiting for a calmer moment to introduce ourselves to your kindness,—Our claims to it cannot fail to find access to your heart;M artial Heroes are the natural Protectors of the weaker sex; and when to this we add our particular consecration to a life of religious seclusion, and to the institution of female youth, we trust we have said enough to rouse in our favor your most active solicitude.”74 The nuns eloquently presented their case as representative of the most helpless citizens of New Orleans, who would be the tempting target of a rampaging enemy army. They expressed confidence in the general’s preparations, adding, “[We] cannot altogether command the alarms, which the din of arms is so apt to raise in the female breast, and which our situation renders peculiarly distressing; we therefore hope to be excused, if we beg, 248 the war of 1812, conflict and deception that, in case of any emergency, you will particularly recommend our house to the guardianship of our gallant veterans.”75 mother Marie Olivier de Vezin, as Superior of the Community of the Ursulines, signed it first and passed the pen to the other three sisters:S r. de Ste. Michel Gensoul, Sr. de Ste. Felicite Alzas, and Sr. de St. Andre Madier. The letter was addressed and sealed for delivery to General Andrew Jackson.

On December 22, General Keane was ready to attack. With his whole assembled force now on Isle-aux-Poix, he laid out his scheme of maneuver. Three battalions would form his advanced guard to cross the lake, enter the bayou, and set foot on the land below New Orleans. This force would be under the command of Colonel William Thornton. They would be supported by a party of Congreve rocket men and two light three-pounder artillery pieces. The rest of the force was formed into two brigades, one under Colonel George Brooke, who had commanded at Baltimore after General Ross’s death, and the second under the command of Colonel Hamilton of the Seventh West India Regiment. Since there were not enough boats for all to land at once, these three groups would move in three waves.76 Again the British faced a thirty-mile row. At 9:00 a.m. on December 22, the first wave of 1,600 men, underC olonel Thornton, moved into Lake Borgne. General Keane embarked himself in this first wave, which also carried the Portuguese fishermen as guides and the American deserters who had tantalized the soldiers with talk of “Beauty and Booty.” “When we set sail,” said Lieutenant Gleig, “the sky was dark and lowering, and, before long, a heavy rain began to fall. Continuing without inter- mission during the whole of the day, towards night it as usual ceased, and was succeeded by a sharp frost; which taking effect upon men thoroughly exposed . . . rendered our limbs thoroughly powerless.”77 The only relief to their misery was a stiff wind to their backs that allowed them to raise their sails and move along at a rapid pace. The men were freezing, and in an effort to reduce the effect of the numbing cold, they lit charcoal fires in the sterns of the boats; but as darkness approached, those were extinguished lest the flames reveal their presence the final attack 249 to the Americans. At midnight, they could go no more, and the exhausted men anchored and hoisted awnings for some protection. Several boats continued forward, knowing that an American sentinel had been stationed at the entrance of the bayou and would have to be eliminated. But when the British boats arrived, they found no such sentry and landed and quickly surrounded the buildings of the fishing village, capturing the entire American outpost without a sound. To mark the almost hidden entrance to Bayou Bienvenue for the boats that would follow, a red flag was hoisted on a pole and stood out like a solitary beacon surrounded by a sea of brown reeds.78 Giving enough time for this action to be successful, the rest of the boats resumed their advance, and by nine o’clock, twenty-four hours after they had left Isle-aux-Poix, they set foot, undetected, in the marshland along the Mazant (Villere) Canal.

december 23

“Wherever we looked,” said Gleig, “nothing was to be seen except one huge marsh, covered with tall reeds; not a house, nor vestige of human indus- try. . . . No eye could watch us, or report our arrival to the American Gen- eral. . . . It afforded every means of concealment to one part of our force, until the others should be able to come up.79 with the advanced party of 1,600 soldiers successfully landed, the boats turned around to get the second wave standing by at Isle-aux-Poix. But although the British force was well concealed, like needles in a huge haystack, they were also blind to anything approaching them, and the tall reeds and marshland were hardly suitable to be able to deploy in case the Americans should attack. None knew the trails and paths that might lead to their hidden position, and an enemy force could be on top of them without their ever detecting their approach. General Keane and Colonel Thornton decided to form the units and march along the edge of the canal to try and reach a spot that was more open, especially since the American deserters had said that there were not 5,000 under arms in the whole state and the population was ready to join with them as soon as they presented the army.80 The march was anything but easy. Other ditches intersected their line of march and became the equivalent of moats. “These were too wide to be 250 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Battlefield environs.C ourtesy National Park Service. leaped, and too deep to be forded. . . . The troops were obliged to halt, while bridges were hastily constructed of what materials could be procured, and thrown across.”81 after the British soldiers spent several hours negotiating the marshland, the reeds thinned out and there were a few trees, and the soldiers found themselves standing on solid ground and on farm fields covered with the stubble of the harvested sugar cane. Still there was no house to be seen. Wary that the guides might be leading them toward a set ambush, the soldiers deployed in a tactical posture and continued their march. An orange grove finally came into view, and past it were several farmhouses. The advanced guard quickened its pace toward the buildings in order to surprise the occupants and prevent an alarm, and easily surrounded them, capturing the occupants and several horses.82 The surprised men were in fact the very men who had been charged with outposting the canal to prevent just such a surprise landing. Major Gabriel Villere was sitting on his porch facing the river as the British force closed upon him from behind, from the direction of the Villere Canal. He serenely the final attack 251 smoked a cigar while his brother Celestin busied himself cleaning his bird- hunting firearm, and neither man was facing the advancing redcoats. When the major finally turned and spotted the scarlet uniforms advancing on his property, he raced to the rear door to escape, only to meet armed British soldiers. Colonel Thornton approached him with a drawn sword and demanded his surrender. Celestin had already been arrested, and both were taken into the house and confined. It was 10:30 in the morning. The dejected Gabriel observed the soldiers as they roamed around and watched for a moment when he might escape; and when the moment presented itself, he bolted off his seat, leaped through an open window, pushed past some surprised soldiers, vaulted a picket fence enclosing his yard, and ran for the woods. Behind him were redcoats with their muskets raised to their shoulders, and soon balls were whistling past him; and then they were in hot pursuit. Running with him was his Irish setter, whose barking and jumping now threatened to reveal any potential hiding place; so the young man clubbed the poor dog to death. He found a tree and climbed it, and, among its limbs and foliage, hid and waited for the soldiers to give up and return to the house. When they did, Gabriel Villere resumed his flight to the neighboring de la Ronde Plantation, where he met Colonel Pierre de la Ronde, and the two men got into a small boat and rowed across the river. There a third man, Dussau De la Croix, furnished horses, and the three raced off in panic to inform General Jackson. At Villere’s plantation, General Keane quickly deployed his three-regiment force to an advanced position along the river road that led to New Orleans and sent out patrols to see if the Americans were near, but they reported back that they had only found Negro slaves who knew nothing of what was happening. Keane’s force was on the road, just eight miles from New Orleans, and nothing was in front of him. Colonel Thornton urged him to attack while surprise was in their favor and while their path was unobstructed, but Keane deferred, fearing that if he made contact with the Americans he could be cut off and surrounded—and he hesitated. The question facing him was whether to exploit the element of surprise or to wait until he could gather his army and mass against the enemy. He chose to wait. So as the advantage of surprise slipped away, he deployed his three regiments on the one-thousand-yard strip of land sandwiched between the river and the swamp. By 8:00 p.m. his men were resting from their long, arduous 252 the war of 1812, conflict and deception approach, enjoying the relative comfort of their camp.83 “The men piled their arms, and a regular bivouac was formed,” said Lieutenant Gleig. “As the Americans had never yet dared to attack, there was no great probability of their doing so on the present occasion. The fires were made to blaze with increasing splendor, our evening meal was eat, and we prepared to sleep.84

In New Orleans, the word of the presence of the British army just nine miles below the city arrived at one-thirty in the afternoon from several sources. Having crossed the river back to the east bank, galloping horses brought Major Villere, Colonel de la Ronde, and Mr. Dussau De la Croix breathlessly to Jackson’s parlor on Royal Street to warn that the British army was formed just to the south of the city. But Augustin Rousseau was already there. He had been passing along the river road when the British arrived and raced further south to report it to an American officer at Jumonville Plantation. That officer had ordered him to mount his horse and alert General Jackson; and he was off at a gallop. As he passed through the British landing area, they tried to cut him off, but he evaded all attempts and arrived in New Orleans to tell Jackson the news. “A few minutes afterwards, three discharges of cannon gave the alarm, and drums beat to arms throughout the street,” said Rousseau.85 Jackson reportedly stood and proclaimed, “By the Eternal, they shall not sleep on our soil!” To those assembled he shouted, “Gentlemen, the British are below, we must fight them tonight.”86 Jackson’s forces were scattered at many defensive positions throughout the city and along its approaches. The general’s first concern was to somehow gather them, and to somehow throw up a defensive line to the south, to engage and retard the enemy column if it was on the march.H e hustled Gen- eral Carroll’s men, having just arrived the previous day, to the head of Bayou Bienvenue, slightly north of the Villere Canal, as his first line of defense. He ordered Commodore Patterson, who was at Fort St. John at the entrance to Lake Pontchartrain, to hurry to the Mississippi River waterfront and get the schooner Carolina moving south toward the invasion area. Other units he ordered to form up and advance to the south to engage the attackers. Jackson mounted his horse and at 3:00 p.m. was in front of the gates to Fort St. Charles to review and encourage his army as they hurried to the front.87 the final attack 253

more than 2,100 soldiers marched past General Jackson on their way to engage the British, and considering the variety of commands in this army, they had, by any measure, reacted with lighting quickness to his order to march. In less than two hours from the time of the panicked alert that the British had landed, Jackson’s army and navy were moving. Even Plauche’s men from Fort St. John were marching past him, having run the entire distance from their post on Bayou St. John. The smallest independent force in the column was an 18-man force of Choctaw Indians under the command of Captain Pierre Jugeat.88 having made previous detailed reconnaissance of the entire area, Jack- son knew exactly where he wanted to deploy. He ordered his force to march south and, upon entering the narrow strip of solid ground that resembled a peninsula sandwiched between the swamps and the river, to take up a battle line behind the Rodriguez Canal, just north of the Villere Plantation. The route of march was along the levee and served also as a parade route, where anxious citizens waved handkerchiefs and cheered loudly from the windows and balconies of the houses along their way. Jackson followed his men, but only after confirming that Carolina, with Commodore Pat- terson and Captain John Henley aboard, had cast off from its moorings on the west bank of the river. It was 4:00 p.m., and Henley’s orders were to be in a position opposite the British lines to be able to fire upon their left flank at 7:00 p.m. His fire would be the signal for the army to attack.89 as the army moved out of the city, the citizens suddenly found themselves alone. The comforting sounds and noise of the army moving throughout the city had been reassuring, but now that was all replaced with an eerie silence. To the women in particular, the terrible history of the cries for “Beauty and Booty” were well known. They had all envisioned the accompanying acts of barbarisms, including wanton rape and murder that had visited many defenseless towns along the Chesapeake. It certainly had to be foremost in their minds. And how many Indians had been recruited from Pensacola, where Brit- ish agents had promised five dollars per scalp?W ere they also preparing to attack with the British army and butcher the whole population as they had at Fort Mims and Fort Dearborn? And all New Orleanians were well aware of the complicity of British officers, who were known to conveniently turn a blind eye to the savagery. As the army marched to the south along the river, they passed the old building that was the convent of the Ursuline nuns, from whom Jackson 254 the war of 1812, conflict and deception had recently received their emotional plea for help. Gripped by fear, the women on the street reportedly ran to Jackson to ask about their fate in the face of a murderous enemy. The young ladies had been caught up in the gala and excitement of the previous weeks when they had heard the strains of “Yankee Doodle,” “La Marseillaise,” and “Le Chant du Depart.”90 They had rushed to their windows to wave their handkerchiefs at the passing soldiers and to encourage them to their defense. But now the question was, what if Jackson’s army failed to stop the British attack? They were now alone with only the children and the old and infirm.M any of these women now carried daggers in their waist belts. History and legend has recorded Jackson’s instructions to his aides to calm the ladies. “Say to the ladies, not to be uneasy. No British soldier shall enter the city as an enemy, unless over my dead body.”91 If anyone should doubt the exactness of his response, or believe that it has been romanticized, it would be folly to doubt that the women were asking that exact question and, with the Ursuline nuns, they all began a prayer vigil. Jackson’s army marched out and entered upon that peninsula of land separating the river and the swamp. Plauche’s battalion, along with d’Aquin’s Second battalion of the Free Men of color entered on the right side, along the river road. Major Villere guided those battalions forward. Coffee’s Tennesseans, with Beale’s Rifles andH inds’s Dragoons, entered on the left side by the trees of the swamp. Their able guides were the pirate Pierre Lafitte and Denis de Laronde. Because they knew that the British had arrived through the swamp via the Villere Canal, an attack on the left would hopefully cut the vital British supply line to their support in Lake Borgne, and if that flank could be turned, the entire British army could possibly be encircled.92 within the British lines, the men had eaten and relaxed their aching bodies after bathing in the Mississippi waters. Some lay stretched out near their campfires, while others scoured the few buildings and houses for whatever they could confiscate. None were aware of the approaching Americans. “Suddenly a bugle from the advanced posts sounded the alarm,” said Lieutenant Gleig. “Starting up, we stood to our arms, and prepared for battle, the alarm being now succeeded by some firing.”93 But the alarm was quickly toned down, as the report came back that it was just a few mounted men who had been dispersed by the British pickets. One of the horses was dead, and perhaps the riders had been wounded. the final attack 255

in fact, two of the men from the Feliciana Dragoons94 had been wounded, and Thomas Scott had the dubious distinction of becoming the first casualty at the hands of the British army. But theD ragoons’ foray had alerted the British line, so that the men were no longer lounging around their campfires but very much alert, with their eyes to the front. The shadows were already long, since it was just past the shortest daylight of the year, and darkness was fast approaching. In that fading dusk, there suddenly appeared a mounted force of 100 men advancing confidently along the road. As experienced cavalrymen, they maneuvered briskly from a column formation to a formidable line abreast. To the astonishment of the observing British soldiers, that line charged forward and drove in whatever outposts were in front of British line and then calmly halted just out of musket range to survey their adversaries. It was Hinds’s Dragoons, and when they had seen all they had come to see, they wheeled smartly about and, just as quickly as they had arrived, withdrew into the dark, accompanied by wildly fired musket balls from the surprised enemy.95 But as they withdrew in the gathering dusk, they ripped several flyers from fences surrounding the plantation. It was a message to the local population from the British, signed by both Admiral Cochrane and General Keane. “Louisianians! Remain quiet in your houses,” said the flyers. Y“ our slaves shall be preserved to you, and your property respected. We make war only against Americans.”96 A short distance farther down the road, the riders came across a black man who had obviously been engaged by the British to post the signs in the countryside, since he had a number of the notices in his pocket; they were printed also in Spanish and French. The British line was loosely drawn up because of a lack of numbers in a field behind a dry ditch.M ost of the wooden palisades that formed a fence had been gathered and now served as fuel for the many campfires.A t 7:30 in the evening, many of the soldiers’ attention was drawn to a dark shadow floating down river, hugging the west bank.I t was a large ship that dropped anchor and was intently watched from the east bank. The British soldiers thought it was perhaps a British ship that had arrived to support them. “To satisfy this doubt,” said Lieutenant Gleig, “she was repeatedly hailed, but returned no answer. . . . All thought of sleep was laid aside. Several musket shots were now fired at her.”97 still the mysterious vessel showed no sign of recognizing the calls and shots from the shore. After making leisurely ship preparations, she slowly 256 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Jackson’s night attack, December 23. Courtesy National Park Service. swung around so that her starboard, seven broadside guns, faced the hail- ing British soldiers. Only then did the soldiers hear a voice come from the night intruder: “Give them this for the honour of America.” “The words were instantly followed by the flashes of her guns, and a deadly shower of grape swept down numbers in the camp,” exclaimed Gleig. “Against this dreadful fire we had nothing whatever to oppose.”98 captain John Henry Cooke, of the British Forty-Third Regiment, said: “As the flashes from the cannon reflected for a moment the outlines of the ominous sloop on the water, so plunged the round and grape-shot like so many thunder-bolts amongst the astounded troops, the balls boring down whole piles of arms, knocking kettles off the fires, scattering blazing beams of wood about, maiming some soldiers, and sending others whence no trav- eler returns. This was enough to put one of Caesar’s legions in a panic.”99 The British troops abandoned their fires and huddled against the meager protection of the riverbank; they made a meaningless attempt to fire their muskets and a few Congreve rockets, “which made a beautiful appearance in the air” but sailed off erratically into the night.100 the final attack 257

for an hour, the British could do nothing but hunker down and endure the continuing fire of whistling grapeshot from the schooner Carolina, whose booming cannons provided flashes of illumination in the pitch black night. “Not an object could be distinguished at the distance of a yard,” said Gleig.101 The bombardment of Carolina’s guns had been a signal for the army to attack. Up to that moment, it had arrived on the battlefield undetected, and the bombardment had the British in no position to have alert sentries looking for that advance. Jackson had formed his men into two forces: one along the river road and the other along the swamp, under General Coffee. His own force consisted of the small detachment of 66 marines, Major Plauche’s battalion (287), the Seventh and Forty-Fourth Regiments (884), Major d’Aquin’s Sainte Domingue battalion of Free Men of color (210), and the 18 Choctaw Indians. General Coffee’s command was slightly smaller, with his 563 mounted Tennesseans, Major Hinds’s 107 mounted Dragoons, and Captain Beale’s 62 Orleans riflemen.H inds’s Dragoons had made the dusk field reconnaissance and would now be held in reserve; and two of Coffee’s companies stayed back to hold the horses of the rest of the Tennesseans, who dismounted for an infantry assault. Jackson would attack with about 1,800 men, and his hasty plan was, in military parlance, a “turning movement.” Many writers state that he made a frontal assault, but it was hardly that. He planned to hit the enemy’s line at each end, and hoped Coffee’s force might break through and turn the British right toward the river and encircle the army. That would drive the British against the levee. Jackson’s own larger force would advance straight into the main body near the river, now softened up by the fire from Caro- lina, and exploit any resulting breakthrough. Jackson’s plan and maneuver was nothing short of amazing. In fewer than five hours from the first alert, he had gathered his widely scattered forces, formulated a complicated plan for a daring night attack against an unknown number of enemy, issued orders to the key commanders of land and naval forces, moved to the battlefield undetected, and seized the initiative in a surprise attack by getting off a massive first shot that stunned the British and covered his own army’s arrival and position on the battlefield. Jackson waited ten minutes after Carolina opened fire to begin his advance. With most of his force in tactical columns, he advanced down the river road with the marines, his artillery, and the Seventh and Forty-Fourth 258 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Regiments. In the inky blackness, little could be seen, even the shortest of distances away. Adding to the obscurity of the advance was a pall of smoke that drifted over from Carolina’s thunderous discharges and smoking guns. At eight o’clock, a low fog formed on the river, further hiding both armies. Still his approach had not been detected, until the advanced company of the Seventh Regiment, under command of Lieutenant William McClelland, startled a British outpost, which fired upon it and was shortly driven back by the Americans. That encounter attracted a larger British counterattack- ing force of 200 redcoats, who slashed into the American line and hurled it back, killing McClelland; but the British counterattack itself was stopped cold by the fire of Jackson’s two hastily set up cannons, which poured their deadly projectiles point-blank into the redcoats’ midst and, with a furious attack from the small detachment of marines, hurled it back.102 it was only by the flashes of light from their weapons that either side could catch glimpses of the other. The grand melee was fought more with each side feeling for the other, and the entire fight progressed with the still- booming guns of Carolina drowning out the musket fire. “The fire from our battery was continued until 9 o’clock upon the enemy’s flank while engaged in the field with our army,” said Commodore Patterson on Carolina, “at which hour [we] ceased firing supposing, from the distance of the enemy’s fire, that they had retreated beyond the range of our guns.”103 on the British side, the naval attack had caused mass confusion. Sol- diers had hunkered down against the levee, projecting just three feet above the river’s surface, when the rattle of musketry from their forward pickets alerted them that a ground attack also targeted them. “The . . . [musket] fire having paused for a few moments, was succeeded by a fearful yell,” said Lieutenant Gleig, “and the heavens were illuminated on all sides by a semi- circular blaze of musketry. It was now clear that we were surrounded . . . by a very superior force.”104 Gleig was mistaken that he was surrounded by a very superior force, but Jackson’s surprise had made it seem so. The Eighty-Fifth and Ninety- Fifth British Regiments reacted quickly and raced to the point of attack; and it was they who arrived to drive back McClelland and his advanced companies. The ensuing struggle became a battle of small groups locked in close combat, sometimes firing point blank into their adversaries, and sometimes firing upon their own men. A“ battle as the annals of modern warfare can hardly match,” said Gleig. “All order, all discipline were lost. the final attack 259

Each officer, as he was able to collect twenty or thirty men round him, advanced into the middle of the enemy, when it was fought hand to hand, bayonet to bayonet, and sword to sword, with the tumult and ferocity of one of Homer’s combats.”105 on the American left, following the line of the swamp, General Coffee advanced in an unseen column. When he reached the Villere Plantation, he wheeled his column of dismounted infantry and formed a wide line, with Beale’s Rifles on the left, and his entire force then advanced almost as if each man was on his own in the dark. The advance by Beale’s line on Coffee’s left was like a thief in the night. “Our company rested in silence,” said Benjamin Story, “our left leaning on the swamp of the woods.”106 They had pace by pace advanced across the fields of LaCoste’s Planta- tion, moving to get into an advanced position to await the signal to attack. But suddenly they were challenged by a British sentinel, unseen in the dark: “Who comes there?” Hearing no answer, he fired several shots in the direction of the sound, but they went over the advancing Americans’ heads, and then all was again quiet. On our part,” said Story, “all was silent waiting for the signal of attack to be commenced on the right by the firing of theS chooner Carolina. Ere the lapse of much time, the light on her sails from the flash of her guns and their thundering report told the enemy that all was not tranquille [sic].” 107 Beale’s Rifles opened with first a volley and then continuous fire on the surprised British. Along with Coffee’s Rifles, they advanced forward to a position halfway to the river. “Thinking they were about to be surrounded, [the British] retreated, part to the buildings and orange grove of LaCost[e]’s lower house, [and] the main body behind the old Levee and Batture.”108 coffee had advanced, hoping the enemy would still be huddled along the riverbank, where he could surprise them with their backs to the water. But they had redeployed to various positions along the ground, and after a creep and crawl of one hundred yards, the whole American line was confronted by men of the British Eighty-Fifth Regiment. It became “a war of detachments and duels.”109 when the British were driven to their positions in the lower houses of the LaCoste Plantation, they were outgunned by Beale’s and the Tennes- seans’ long rifles. So they waited until Coffee’s men had advanced until they were almost on top of them, and then they rushed out to engage the Americans in hand-to-hand combat. Wielding their rifles as clubs, both 260 the war of 1812, conflict and deception sides sought to bash their adversaries into submission, and Coffee’s men made special use of the long knives and tomahawks that had served them so well during the Creek Indian war. British Captain John Cooke described the wild fight:

Lumps and crowds of American militia, who were armed with rifles and long hunting knives for close quarters, now crossed the country, and by degrees getting nearer to the headquarters of the British, they were met by some companies of the rifle corps and the 85th light infantry. . . . The bayonet of the British and the knife of the Americans were in active opposition at close quarters during this eventful night, and, as pronounced by the Americans it was “rough and tumble.”110

coffee’s force slowly drove the British line back, where it formed behind the river levee with its backs to the river, and Carolina. General Coffee hesitated risking his men in a frontal assault on a force in such a strong position, so he dispatched his situation to Jackson. Jackson immediately ordered him to break off the engagement and join him with the main force on the right flank of the battlefield. But Coffee’s attack and later withdrawal were not without a significant loss. In the bitter fight onL aCoste’s Plantation, Beale’s Rifles had endured a tremendous volume of fire from the cornered British and had become separated. In their withdrawal, they retreated toward the swamp and were suddenly challenged by a Scottish voice in the night. During the night battle, the Ninety-Third Highlanders had just arrived on the battlefield from their long row from the Isle-aux-Poix. “The arrival of enemies [sic] troops at this moment in our rear, from the place of their landing at Lake Borgne, Bayou Bienvenue threw us in confusion. . . . 24 were made prisoners.”111 in no time, the Americans, surrounded by a ring of bayonets from soldiers of the newly arrived Ninety-Third, were hustled off to the boats that had brought the British up Villere Canal, and were transported to the Brit- ish fleet. Among the captives with Benjamin Story was the former mayor of the city, Denis Prieur, who managed to escape for a while but was re- captured and sent to General Keane’s headquarters. Prieur was a Creole, and the same misunderstanding that Keane had demonstrated when writing his message to be circulated to “Louisianians,” as if they were not Americans, was repeated as he questioned his new prisoner at his headquarters on the battlefield. Keane went to great lengths to impress the former mayor that the British had not come to Louisiana to the final attack 261 wage war against the people, “but to drive out the Yankees who had no right to the country, and ought not to be tolerated by the Creoles.”112 The general’s own words confirmed the very nature and purpose of this entire invasion. It was an offensive to recapture land that, in the British mind, belonged to Spain and, ultimately, to the Crown. The battle of December 23 was over. At four in the morning on Christ- mas Eve, Jackson withdrew two miles closer to the city to form a line on the Rodriguez Canal. He left a small force in his old positions to keep an eye on the enemy. The British had been thrown badly off balance, despite the arrival of new reinforcements from Lake Borgne. The battlefield was littered with the dead. The British had suffered almost 300 casualties: 46 killed, 167 wounded, and 64 missing or captured. The Americans had lost 24 killed, 115 wounded, and 74 missing or captured.113 At first light onD ecember 24th the battlefield revealed the results of the hard-fought battle. “The most shocking and disgusting sights everywhere presented themselves,” said Lieutenant Gleig. The dead lay in all contorted positions. “Many had met their death from bayonet wounds, sabre cuts, or the heavy blows from the butt ends of muskets. . . . Not only were the wounds themselves exceedingly frightful, but the very countenances of the dead exhibited the most savage and ghastly expressions.”114 “The British were fighting on two sides of a ragged triangle,” said Cap- tain Cooke, “their left face pounded by the fire from the sloop, and their right face engaged with the American land forces.”115 what were the results of Jackson’s December 23rd attack? “Had he not attacked,” said Major A. LaCarriere Latour, “[the British] would that night, or early next morning have marched against the city . . . defended by hardly five thousand men, mostly militia, who could not, in open field, have withstood disciplined troops, accustomed to the use of the bayonet.”116 on December 24, as Jackson dug in along the Rodriguez Canal, the Brit- ish and American negotiators in Ghent signed a proposed treaty. It would, however, not be effective unless ratified by both governments, a condition insisted upon by the British.

Jackson busied himself with preparing his defense along the Rodriguez Canal, which was an old canal used to float small craft from the fields 262 the war of 1812, conflict and deception with the harvest to a loading point on the river.117 As Jackson formed his defense, the canal was four feet deep and about ten feet wide, mostly filled with weeds; and it ran from the river for a thousand yards into the swamp on his left flank. He moved his precious two cannons behind his lines along the levee so as to cover any approach along the road. He also called his engineer Latour and ordered that a “wall” of water be placed between him and the attacking British. He envisioned flooding the fields to his front by cutting the levee in several places, and his engineers began immediately piercing it.118 But the grand idea came to nothing, since the level of the flowing river was even with the river road, and the water only filled some of the dry ditches. ByD ecember 28, the river had fallen even further and the project was abandoned.119 Beginning on Christmas Eve, tools and equipment to convert the Rodri- guez Canal into a formidable position arrived from the rear, and the sound of digging and men laboring to deepen the race drifted over to the British lines. The mud from the bottom of the mostly dry canal was shoveled up onto the side nearest New Orleans, and by day’s end a three-foot rampart rose, and the canal was now deeper, almost seven feet in the center. Four cannons, brought up from other positions, were installed in the cut openings of the mud-wall rampart.120 The defensive line stretched completely across the dry land, and did not end at the swamp, but continued deep into it to deny any British ability to turn that flank. This final exten- sion was suggested by Pierre Lafitte. He saw a dangerous situation at the terminus of Bayou Bienvenue. Like its offshoot Bayou Villere, Bayou Bien- venue approached the narrow strip of solid ground four miles closer to the city and almost exactly at the end of Jackson’s left flank.A ll that separated the head of the bayou from the defensive line was several hundred yards of dense cypress trees in the swamp. But the edges of the bayou could, with difficulty, be negotiated on foot after boats would grind to a halt, just as the British soldiers had trudged along the edges of Bayou Villere. A similar British maneuver, using the same methods of approach, could step onto dry land exactly opposite Jackson’s flank. Pierre Lafitte suggested digging deeper into the swamp so that the line would end in a hook directly at the end of Bayou Bienvenue. Such a British attacking force would run right into an armed barricade, with no ability to maneuver around it.121 as a field fortification, Jackson’s line was indeed primitive. Barrels and casks of sugar were originally brought up and placed at odd intervals along the final attack 263 the northern edge of the canal; and the opening between the barrels was gradually filled in with mud and whatever else the diggers could squeeze into the spaces.122 Jackson ordered General David Morgan to leave a few cannon and 100 men at Fort Leon and to move the rest of his force from English Turn to form a defensive line even with his but across the river on the west bank.123 While Morgan moved, the British army was busy bringing the rest of its soldiers from Isle-aux-Poix near the Pearl River onto the battlefield. By the end of the day, the second and third brigades had arrived, and the entire army was finally assembled. “The second and third brigades . . . now took up their ground upon the spot where the late battle was fought,” said Lieutenant Gleig. “But [our] advance was still fettered to the bank, from which it was additionally prevented from moving by the arrival of another large ship, which cast anchor about a mile above the schooner. . . . Thus were three battalions kept sta- tionary by the guns of these two formidable floating batteries.”124 But the British army was also pinned down. General Keane withdrew his soldiers piecemeal from the sheltering slope of the levee to the relative safety of the lower houses of the plantation—out of Carolina’s range. That night the troops slept not knowing what the plan was or how long they would remain in their position. What was apparent was that the dream of an easy operation had vanished. The weak adversary that they had expected to attack had actually struck the first blow and bloodied their noses and thrown them into confusion. The only road and avenue of approach to New Orleans was dominated by a menacing warship, and their enemy was digging in on a defensive line. “In a word,” said Lieutenant Gleig, “all things had turned out diametri- cally opposite to what had been anticipated.” Captain Cooke said, “The city of New Orleans and General Jackson now became only a secondary consideration, and the discussion was how to get rid of this watery dragon.”125 on Christmas day, the Americans heard a cannon boom from the Brit- ish line, but it did not signal the commencement of a British attack. After a long voyage, chasing his army, General Pakenham finally arrived on the battlefield, among cheering and celebration. He soon turned his eye to the situation at hand. He could observe nothing to his rear, and to his front, there were no details of the American army except the sight of 500 mounted riflemen keeping a watch on every British move. They hovered there with impunity because no attack could be launched to drive them off 264 the war of 1812, conflict and deception as long as Carolina threatened to blast any assembled force. The terrain around him was flat and unbroken, and except for the river on his left and the swamp on his right, he was simply on a narrow strip of land with no possibility of maneuver. His first order of business was to get rid of Caro- lina, now joined by the sloop Louisiana. “As such,’ said Lieutenant Gleig, “nine field-pieces, two howitzers, and one mortar were brought down to the brink of the stream, as soon as it was dark.”126 In addition to the guns, ammo, powder, and tools, there was also a furnace to heat the cannon shot. During the hours of darkness, the British built their battery and completed it before sunrise. The eight pieces were spread out along the riverbank for two hundred yards and covered over with cane straw and trash for concealment. Pakenham was doubtful that the light nine-pound guns could accurately engage Carolina at that distance, but Colonel Dickson assured him that “if the wind failed her [to escape] . . . she would Undoubtedly be either Sunk, burnt, or obliged to drift down the river.”127

december 27

At two o’clock in the morning on December 27, the British artillerymen began heating the shot for the nine-pound guns. Almost six hours later, the fog lifted to allow the gunners to catch a glimpse of Carolina, and at 7:45 they opened fire. The ship had not moved from its position on the 23rd and had routinely shelled the British anytime a target came into range. Now it was her turn to come under attack from this newly erected British position that was just opposite her own position. On that morning the British guns’ accuracy was uncanny. The startled Carolina crew scrambled to react to this sudden, unexpected attack, fired four wild shots, and scrambled to deal with the hot shot that rained down upon them. But the British guns were on target, and the second round of “hot shot” smashed onto her deck and into her hold. The schooner was soon on fire. Normally deck crews could douse these smoldering balls, or with tongs could hurl them overboard; but this particular ball landed in just the wrong place—in her main hold and snagged under the ship’s tangled cables, where no one could get to it.128 in moments, the deck ignited, and the sheet of flame sought the lower decks of the stricken sloop. Soon the whole ship was burning, and the fire raged on for an hour; the crew was seen diving overboard, anticipating the the final attack 265 explosion of the powder magazine. Captain John Henley, commanding Carolina, said, “Finding that hot shot were passing through her cabin and filling rooms which contained a considerable quantity of powder . . . and the vessel in a sinking situation, and the fire increasing . . . I reluctantly gave orders to abandon her.”129 when the gunpowder in Carolina’s hold finally exploded, it was enormous and spectacular and certainly heard by the concerned citizens of the city; and the burning parts of Carolina that had been shot into the heavens arched gracefully like a giant pyrotechnic and descended slowly back to earth like the many streams of a fiery fountain.S o violent was the explosion that two of the heavy guns were launched to the shore and recovered.130 colonel Dickson observed from the British battery on the levee that “at last at half past ten, she blew up abaft, and the Masts and Hull fell out- wards into the deep water and disappeared.”131 one American had been killed and six others wounded. The British gunners quickly shifted their attention to Louisiana, anchored somewhat farther upstream. The only gun with a range to possibly hit her was the five- and-a-half-inch heavy howitzer, which hurled a heavy twenty-four-pound shot, and the British gunners fired several blasts at her. Louisiana’s crew had futilely set sails to attempt to escape, but with no wind, they now took to the boats, frantically rowing in a desperate attempt to haul the ship out of range.132 The surviving Carolina crew moved into the line at the Rodri- guez Canal to man artillery there. The next day they would be joined by the Baratarians coming from Fort St. John. Carolina’s explosion brought throaty cheers to the British, who had lined the riverbank to watch the spectacular artillery attack and the arch of the hot shot as it smashed into the doomed ship. “In itself the sight was a fine one,” exclaimed a delighted Lieutenant Gleig, “but to us it was particularly grati- fying, for we could not but experience something like satiated revenge at the destruction of a vessel from which we had suffered so much damage.”133

december 28

With Carolina sunk, Jackson had lost half of his remaining navy, and his schooner Louisiana could not boast of a regular crew. In fact they were most irregular and had only been formed during the previous two weeks, when Jackson first arrived in the city. The entire force was made up of 80 men swept up from the streets and docks of the city, mostly answering the 266 the war of 1812, conflict and deception call to duty but also enticed by the cash bonus of twenty-four dollars for three months’ service authorized by the legislature.134 A few most likely signed up to avoid a threat of arrest after Jackson had declared martial law. The dubious honor of training this crew fell on the shoulders of Lieuten- ant Charles C. B. Thompson. They were men of many nationalities, except English, and two-thirds of them could not speak or understand English.135 Known to be part of the crew were Portuguese, Norwegians, Spanish, Greeks, Italians, Germans, Arabs, Hindus, and Swedes—and Yankees.136 in an attempt to offset the loss of Carolina, Jackson sent Commodore Patterson into New Orleans to see if he could find a few merchant vessels that could be manned, each with a thirty-two-pound carronade, and floated down the river to take up positions opposite the British. There they could sweep the British army with unrelenting fire, and the enormous balls would seek out any British lines.137 But Patterson’s mission was fruitless, since there were no seamen to be found anywhere. General Pakenham wasted little time following up his advantage of having sunk Carolina, and on December 28 he attacked the American line. He divided his army into two brigade columns; each contained four regiments. The left column, the Second Brigade, was under General Keane, and the right, the First Brigade, was under General Samuel Gibbs, who was also second in command to Pakenham.138 The ten pieces of artillery were to move with General Keane. Pakenham’s approach to the American line instantly drove in the hated American outposts that had made a steady habit of peppering the British lines with harassing fire throughout the day and night; or even bringing up Hinds’s Dragoons in front of the outposts to unleash a volley that had the effect of turning out the entire line for battle. To the British, who against another European enemy would honor an evening cease-fire so all could sleep, this constant American sniping was “an ungenerous return to barbarity.”139 on the British left, the ten cannon moved in front of the infantry, alter- nately engaging the American line and the schooner Louisiana. On this clear and frosty morning, the British advance was admired for its precision by the Americans who watched its approach, but despite a great temptation to fire at the marching red line, they held their fire. “Our spirits, in spite of the troubles of the night [with snipers], were good,” said Gleig, “and our expectations of success were high; consequently many rude jests were bandied about, and many careless words were spoken. Moving in this merry mood, we advanced.” After several miles the the final attack 267

British attack on Line Jackson, December 28. Courtesy National Park Service. head of the column came into view of the American line, and Gleig and his comrades got their first glimpse of the fortified Rodriguez Canal. His column’s view had been obstructed by several houses, but once past these structures, he saw the line to this front, bristling with guns and men. Their march had also brought them into range of the guns of Louisiana; Lieutenant Thompson swung his ship to align his broadside, and his hastily trained gun crews waited for his order. “[Louisiana] opened upon them a well-directed fire,” said Major Latour. “This was at first briskly answered by the enemy’s artillery, [but] soon silenced by the guns of the ship, and those from our lines.”140 from his vantage point on Louisiana, Commodore Patterson watched the British column nearest the river make its approach. And then his ship shuddered with its initial broadside. “At 25 minutes past 8 A. M., the enemy opened their fire upon the ship, with shells, hot shot, and rockets, 268 the war of 1812, conflict and deception which was instantly returned with great spirit and much apparent effect,” he said.141 again the redcoats were thrown into total confusion. Not only were the well-aimed rifles and muskets finding their mark in the British column, but Louisiana’s plunging fire, crashing into their lines at a deadly, oblique angle, tore gaping holes in the red line. “Scarce a bullet passed over, or fell short of its mark,’ said a distressed Lieutenant Gleig, ‘but all striking full into the midst of our ranks, occasioned terrible havoc. . . . A tremendous cannonade mowed down our ranks, and deafened us with its roar.”142 captain Cooke described the scene: “The crescent battery,143 with a full charge of powder and ball, resounded in loud defiance, and some cannon balls, striking the centre of the middle regiment of British, knocked down the soldiers, and tossed them into the air like old bags.” “One shot struck the column of the 85th,” said William Surtees, “which knocked down two officers and about ten men.” For seven hours, Louisiana pummeled the British line, “during which time, eight hundred shot were fired from the ship,” said Patterson. “One man only was wounded slightly, by the piece of a shell, and one shot passed between the bowsprit and the heel of the jib-boom.” 144 The British cannons reacted as best they could, and were now deployed to return fire and engage the Jackson line. But it was an uneven fight. The American artillery was better and heavier, and the gunners fired from protected positions, while the British gunners were mostly in the open; and the American gunners’ reputation for excellence was never better displayed. They soon smothered the British gunners in a hail of crushing shot. In half an hour it was over. “Many gunners were killed,” said Gleig, “and the rest . . . were obliged to retire.”145 despite this cannonade, the British infantry formed in a disciplined line and, through the hail, advanced on the American line—and then, for the first time, they saw the obstructing canal. They halted and attempted to find cover to avoid complete destruction. The open field offered little, except a few shallow drainage ditches with reeds growing along the edges. Those reeds soon had prone infantrymen trying to conceal themselves behind them. Up until that moment, the British soldiers had no idea that there was a moat in front of the American barricade. On the right, General Gibbs’s column fared slightly better. He had not been subjected to the enormously destructive fire fromLouisiana, and he launched his infantry assault against the right side of the American line, the final attack 269 close to the swamp. An initial success brought him to within a couple of hundred yards of the American flank near the woods. Coffee had sent men into the woods in front of the line to snipe at the advancing British, but they were driven back, and General Gibbs perceived that the breastworks, where they entered the swamp, were not substantial; but before he could exploit any advantage, the artillery to support him was defeated, and he was stopped by continuous rifle and musket fire. The British regiments could go no farther and sought to fall back in a general retreat, “not in a body,” said Gleig, “but one by one, under the same discharge which saluted their approach.”146 To make matters worse, the houses along the road were now aflame, either the result of hot shot or by another American preplan. “The whole of the houses in the neighborhood were in one grand and terrific blaze of fire,” observed Surtees. As the soldiers tried to fall back, they dragged whatever they could—their wounded, rifles, cannons, and equipment—but not for the entire four miles to their old position. They reformed their line just over a mile from the American line—on ground that looked no different from where they had come. But that falling back was an ordeal in itself. For seven hours, the Ameri- can cannoneers blasted away at huddled small groups of soldiers trying to pick the right time to make their dash to the rear. To the gunners it was like a shooting game, waiting for a target to rise up so that the whole line could blaze away. “This was done,” said Lieutenant Gleig, “and to the Americans it doubtless conveyed that we were not retiring, but flying, for they rent the air with shouts, and plied us more and more briskly with grape, round-shot, and shells. . . . One unfortunate fellow who was walking before me, received a nine-pound shot on the knapsack, and it literally dashed him to pieces.”147 The price of the December 28 attack had cost the British 50 casualties. The Americans, fighting from behind their disputed barricade, had lost only 17 killed or wounded.148 Gibbs’s attack had revealed a glaring weakness in Jackson’s line at the juncture of the swamp. Jackson immediately ordered Coffee to extend it deeper into the swamp and to hook it back at the end to ensure his flank could not be turned. For the next three days, from December 29 through 31, the British remained, seemingly inactive, in their new position. They were able to throw out some pickets much closer to the American line, since there were a few 270 the war of 1812, conflict and deception buildings offering concealment. But they were not able to stop the daily approach and bombardment from the schooner Louisiana that blasted away all day at anything that moved and retired every evening to the safety of the opposite riverbank out of British range.149 Nor was General Jackson oblivious to the danger of British sabotage against his one remaining boat. If somehow they could sink or disable Lou- isiana, he would have lost his great floating battery.H e would have nothing to contest a river crossing or an attempt to outflank his line by water. He planned to test the alertness of her makeshift crew. He ordered two flatboats set adrift from their moorings at an upriver wharf in the city, and the current carried them steadily downriver. Would the Louisiana crew see them, or would their guard be relaxed in the seeming safety of their night anchorage? His question was answered slightly before dawn when her lookouts were obviously alert, and her guns blasted away, lighting up the night and demolishing the two flatboats.150 Nor were the Americans manning the line ever idle. In fact, the artillerists routinely elevated the barrels of their ever-increasing artillery pieces to maximum range to lob cannon shots into the British bivouac. While it was not very destructive, it was most annoying and kept the soldiers in a constant state of unrest, ready to dodge the flying missiles. The British could also see new activity on the west bank of the river and the erection of new batteries to threaten their line with flanking fire.151 Pakenham was now faced with few options. The longer he delayed making a decisive attack, the stronger Jackson’s line would become. That line, now anchored on both ends, was not susceptible to being turned, and a frontal attack would have to run the gauntlet of flanking fire from the new batteries on the west bank, the broadsides from Louisiana, and the frontal artillery and rifle fire from the main line. The rampart along that line, along with the bristling crescent redoubt along the high road and the moat of the Rodriguez Canal, formed a formidable barricade. And there was absolutely no British tactic or maneuver that could ever tempt or entice the Americans to come out from behind their position. Pakenham had only two options: to blast the rampart wall by the sheer force of superior artillery, as if trying to smash and reduce the walls of a fortress, or to shift his offensive to a two-front attack and assault on both sides of the river simultaneously. The west-bank defense was certainly not the strong line that Jackson had at the canal, and if an attack there could be successful, those American batteries could be turned on Jackson’s line to the final attack 271 support an east-bank assault; and the city itself could possibly be enveloped in an approach along the west bank. So the three days of seeming inactivity in the British lines were actually days devoted to the backbreaking task of bringing up heavy cannons from the fleet, with all the accompanying carriages, ammunition, tools, and powder, to attempt to blast Jackson’s line apart. “The greater part of the army were employed in bringing up these unwieldy machines,” said William Surtees, “as we had no means of transport but the sheer strength of a number of men combined, to drag them successively through the deep soil.”152 on December 31, the British army labored throughout the night to erect artillery batteries as close as possible to the American lines. Lacking proper materials for construction, the British troops scrounged what they could from the nearby buildings and raised the ramparts of their batteries using wooden casks filled with earth, and sugar hogsheads.153 lieutenant Gleig was among the men tasked to raise the batteries. He later reported: “One half of the army was accordingly ordered out on the night of the 31st, and marched to the front, passing the piquets, and halting about three hundred yards from the enemy’s line. Here it was resolved to throw up a chain of works, and here the greater part of this detachment laying down their flintlocks, applied themselves vigorously to their tasks, while the rest stood armed and prepared for their defence.”154 That “chain of works” consisted of four gun batteries bristling with twenty-two cannons and two Congreve rocket batteries. The largest battery was a ten-gun battery in the middle of the battlefield. In morning gray of the first day of the year, visibility was zero.I t was cold, and a thick fog blanketed the river and the adjacent land. By eight o’clock it began to slowly burn off, and by midmorning, nature’s veil had lifted so that the British gunners could make out the American line. But it was a strange sight that they saw, and the Americans were not looking at them. The American army was on parade behind the lines! “[They] being dressed in holiday suits, presented really a fine appearance,” saidL ieutenant Gleig from his position only a few hundred yards away. “Mounted officers were riding backwards and forwards through the ranks, bands were playing, and colours floating in the air; when in a word, all seemed jollity and gala.”155 Even dignitaries from the city and well-dressed ladies were present for the gaiety. With that picture frozen in the British artillerists’ minds, they opened fire with a prodigious barrage. One can only imagine the Americans’ surprise 272 the war of 1812, conflict and deception when their celebration of the New Year was suddenly interrupted by thunderous British artillery blazing away at them from positions that had not existed just the evening before. To accompany the cannon fire, the gunners released a barrage of noisy Congreve rockets that sailed over the lines, and while the weapon was no surprise to the soldiers, it was an unwelcome addition to the fireworks that now scattered the celebration; perhaps top hats and parasols flew in the air as the citizens raced to the rear. In the first ten minutes of this deafening cannonade, 150 shots struck Jackson’s headquarters at McCarte House. The general and his staff, also dressed in their finery, scrambled to exit the building amid the shower of flying shards of metal, bricks, furniture, and lumber as walls collapsed about them. “The utmost terror and disorder appeared to prevail,” said Gleig watching the chaos from the British front. “Instead of nicely dressed lines, nothing but confused crowds could now be observed.” “The first fire of our guns struck them dumb with amazement and terror,” added William Surtees.156 The American gunners raced to their weapons, and in short order, the whole of the artillery in the American line answered in a furious counter- battery duel that was not abated for more than an hour. That so many shots struck the general’s house, when the object of the British cannonade was to neutralize the American artillery and breach the breastworks, showed the twofold purpose of the attack. And in the rear of the British guns, the infantry was poised to assault, should the American line be breached. But the British barrage did not pierce the line, and the soft clay and mud that formed the rampart did not shatter like a fortress wall under the impact of the solid shot. The balls seemed to disappear into the yielding and elastic earth, as if they were swallowed up. For fully a quarter hour, no American gun had been capable of firing back as the infantry and artillerymen broke from their parade formations to race for their battle positions. Quartermaster William Surtees watched from his assembly position as the British attack achieved complete surprise. “There was not a shot returned for twenty minutes at least, so little did they expect heavy artillery there.”157 Precious minutes ticked by with the British infantry poised to advance, waiting for the time when a ground attack might have successfully stormed and mounted the ill-manned American rampart. Captain John Cooke observed, “A whole brigade of infantry close at hand, burned to be ordered on to the assault . . . ladders and other materials had been brought up for the passage of that ditch. But . . . no such order was given, and there is no doubt that the British troops, rushing on under the final attack 273 cover of their guns, with a few planks, would have obtained possession of the enemy’s works.158 when the Americans did finally recover from the shock of the initial attack, the cannoneers returned fire, first slowly and then with an increasing volume. The golden moment for a British ground attack had passed. “The weak defences of the British mud battery were pierced through and through,” said Captain Cooke, “some of its guns dismounted, and a fresh batch of artillerymen nearly all killed and wounded.”159 Quartermaster Surtees said, “Our works had been thrown up in such haste, that they were not nearly so strong as they ought to have been. . . . Their shot penetrated into every part of our works, and caused us . . . considerable loss in artillerymen [and] . . . actually dismounted a great many of our guns. Their gun, a 32-pounder, was a most bitter antagonist to our principal battery. . . . When it fired, its shot always struck the battery at the first bound, and then it ricocheted into the redoubt where I had taken up my post.”160 This American gun was No. 4 Battery, manned by members of the former crew of the schooner Carolina under the command of Lieutenant C. E. Crawley. When their ship was sunk, they moved into Jackson’s line as gunners of artillery. “Any of the other guns seemed like children’s play to the unceasing and destructive fire of this heavy piece of ordnance,”161 said Surtees. He had watched this gun, through his glass, from his position not six hundred yards from the Carolina battery, and clearly saw the sailors with their telltale red shirts operating the massive cannon. “I could distinctly perceive the ball from this gun every time it was fired; it appeared like a small black spot in the midst of the column of white smoke, and gradually grew larger in appearance as it approached us.”162 Next to Battery No. 4 were the Baratarians with Dominique You and Renato Beluche, and their two twenty-four-pounders. The slightly built Dominique You had mounted the parapet for a better view and pressed his glass to his eye. A British cannonball whizzed past his head, and the enraged You shook his fist at his unknown assailant and jumped down to give his orders. In rapid-fireF rench he ordered his gunners to “cram their guns to the mouth with terrible chain-shot and ponderous ship canister, and every description of destructive missile.”163 The artillery duel lasted most of the day, but despite its impressive flash and thunder, it was indecisive and became a standoff, though more costly 274 the war of 1812, conflict and deception to the British side.164 In time, their precious supply of powder and ammunition, brought to the front by such a Herculean effort, diminished to nothing, and their guns fell silent. In the end, Pakenham’s army was again forced to retire; and the infantry that had been poised and straining to exploit any breakthrough was left standing in the assembly areas. New Year’s Day ended with the opposing armies still entrenched in their original positions. “Once more,” said Lieutenant Gleig, “were we obliged to retire, leaving our heavy guns to their fate; but as no attempt was made by the Americans to secure them, working parties were again sent out after dark, and such as had not been destroyed, were removed.”165 once the British failed to exploit their initial surprise, their artillery was covered by the combined barrages from two fronts: the guns along the main American line, and artillery and mortar batteries installed on the west bank. Neither of those positions lacked for powder and shot.

Jackson continued to strengthen his line. Earlier he had sent Jugeat’s force of Choctaw Indians, now increased to 62, to the far end of Coffee’s position, four hundred yards into the swamp. Their patrols in front of the line served to discourage British patrols that might enter the woods to reconnoiter or advance on the American left. Several British efforts had been made to penetrate these woods so as to approach the American line to reconnoiter, but all had failed; and some of those patrols had not returned.166 Behind Line Jackson at the Rodriguez Canal, work gangs worked might- ily to build a second defensive line, a half mile to the rear, onM rs. Prainasse’s Canal, and a third line a half mile beyond the second, at Madame Dupree’s Mill Canal. Both lines were manned by General Villere’s local militia.167 on Wednesday, January 4, the long-expected regiment from Kentucky arrived in the city with 2,250 men and was placed under the command of General John Adair to support Carroll’s Tennesseans. That should have been a welcome sight for Jackson and an armed force to now, once and for all, give a final security to this defense. The problem was that the Ken- tuckians were not armed, and were hardly even clothed to resist the frigid winter weather. Whatever clothes they wore were held together with their hands to ward off the cold. The only thing of value they had was a cooking kettle for every eighty men.168 the final attack 275

arriving with them was another body of Louisiana militia, equally unarmed and unclothed, so that while 3,000 soldiers swelled Jackson’s army on paper, they added nothing to his ability to provide for a stronger defense. Said General Jackson, “Not more than one third of them are armed, and those very indifferently. I have none to put in their hands.”169 on the British side, two British regiments totaling 1,700 men arrived under General John Lambert, bringing Pakenham’s land force up to 7,300. To help bring needed ammunition to the artillery, each man carried a cannon ball in his pack.170 The general had seen two attempts to force Jackson’s line fail dismally. Recognizing his unfavorable position on the ground he held, he fashioned a new plan that was excellent in its design to attack on two fronts and outflank the American position. “[It] was worthy for its boldness, of the school in which Sir Edward [Pakenham] had studied his profession,” observed Lieutenant Gleig. “It was determined to divide the army; to send part across the river, who should seize the enemy’s guns, and turn them on themselves; whilst the remainder should at the same time make a general assault along the whole entrenchment.”171 for that plan to work, of course, the attacking force needed to cross the river, and that meant boats; and like the heavy cannons that were floated and dragged from the anchored fleet, the boats would also have to be transported from there. But once they arrived at the terminus of the Villere Ca- nal, transporting them across the field to the river’s edge would be difficult and exposed to American observation and artillery. A canal was the answer—like the Rodriguez Canal—but there was none that crossed through the British position. The British army had accomplished previous “impossible” feats: rowing sixty miles to combat, dragging heavy artillery to the battlefield, and constructing artillery batteries under the noses of the Americans. They would now set their efforts to accomplish another—digging a canal from the terminus of the Villere Canal to extend more than one thousand yards to join in with the Mississippi River. “Nothing could exceed the grandness of the conception, said William Surtees. “Accordingly, all hands were set to work to widen and deepen the rill of water which flows into the creek at the landing-place, and continuing it up past Monsieur Villerey’s house, to let it enter the river a little above that point.”172 “Upon this arduous undertaking were the troops immediately employed. Being divided into four companies, they labored by turns, day and night; one party relieving another . . . in such order as that the work should never be entirely deserted,” said Lieutenant Gleig.173 276 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Jackson was not immediately aware of this plan, until a boat captured at Chef Menteur revealed that the British were digging a canal. Commodore Patterson, on the west bank, ventured on foot down that bank to a position directly opposite the British digging and confirmed the report. Jackson saw the vulnerable position of his west-bank line and wasted little time constructing another redoubt on his side near the end of the line by the river. It was a large defensive, four-sided redoubt, just forward of the crescent redoubt and just to its left off the river road, so as not to mask the fire of theC rescent Battery. This new position was also slightly forward of the main defensive line to allow the Americans to deliver enfilade fire into the exposed flank of any attacking British force.W hen the British would attempt to scale the wall rising above the canal, they would place themselves in the killing zone of the fire from this new position. Work also continued on the main line, and the earthen barricade that had originally begun as a hasty defensive line on Christmas Eve was now twenty feet thick and eight feet high at its strongest point. Mounted in the embra- sures cut into its face were thirteen guns in eight evenly spaced batteries. Nor were the British activities ever fully hidden from the American’s eyes. While the British lacked horses, the Americans did not, and they bra- zenly patrolled to within several hundred yards of the British lines. Hinds’s Dragoons were daring to the point of recklessness. They ventured close to the enemy lines to ignite the cane stubble so there would be less concealment available, and on another occasion, even made a cavalry charge leap- ing over the prone British pickets, bringing the whole enemy line to alert before reversing themselves to leap back across the same stunned pickets.174 in the action of January 1, when the British launched the surprise artillery attack, the Dragoons had again been in front of the line. As the fog lifted they saw the guns that had been erected the night before and the Brit- ish army advancing in two columns on the flanks. James Bradford and five other horsemen held their ground until the last minute when the infantry began to fire. “Keeping my eye on the enemy,” said Bradford, “I did not perceive that our pickets were retiring, until the enemy’s battery opened directly over my head. I then turned to the right, when I found Brunson calling on us to retreat. Before I got out, the round shot, shells, and rockets, were falling about me as thick as hail.”175 from the upper floor of Jackson’s headquarters, a telescope was constantly trained on the distant British position. Major LaCarriere Latour kept his eyes glued to his glass. Said Latour: the final attack 277

W e perceived that a great number of soldiers and sailors were at work, en- deavouring to move something very unwieldy, which we concluded to be artillery. . . . Officers and staff were seen riding about the fields of Laronde’s, Bienvenu’s and Chalmette’s plantations, and stopping at the different posts to give orders. Finally, on the 7th, shortly after night-fall, we distinctly heard men at work in the enemy’s different batteries; the strokes of hammers gave “note of preparation,” and resounded even within our lines.176

on the west bank, Commodore Patterson landed four more guns from Louisiana to beef up his battery to nine, and installed two furnaces to enable his gunners to fire hot shot. To add infantry to that position, Jackson ferried 500 of the newly arrived Kentuckians to that side of the river, but only half of them were armed. General Morgan’s force, even though swelled in numbers to 800 militia, was hardly armed to be an effective defending force.177 Patterson had also detected the British digging their canal across the battlefield on the east bank. On Saturday, January 7, he told Jackson that the British had opened a canal to communicate with the river and had actually passed several armed barges through it into the river.178 while Jackson’s force on the east bank was 4,700 men, he had only 3,200 in his defensive line, and only 800 of those were regulars. A great part of the rest of his army were behind the line, and behind the ramparts of his second defensive line and armed with only picks and shovels for lack of arms. This would be the fallback position, should the main line fail.179 on the British side, the work to dig the canal had inched it across the land, and the ditch was completed on January 6. Boats from the fleet were ordered up to ferry the men of the Eighty-Fifth Regiment under Colonel Thornton with a detachment of marines, sailors, and other units. But as the boats arrived at the end of the Villere Canal, the move across the land, through the newly dug ditch, went badly. “The soil through which the canal was dug, being soft, parts of the bank gave way, and choking up the channel, prevented the heaviest of the boats from getting forward. These again blocked up the passage, so that none of those which were behind could proceed.”180 But the real problem was a small dam that had been built at the edge of the swamp to prevent the rush of water from the Mississippi from draining away once the riverbank had been cut. The water would then fill the canal to the level of the river and the boats could float out into it. On the previous evening, General Pakenham, with Major Harry Smith, his assistant adjutant general, had inspected the dam and asked his engineer, “Are you satisfied the dam will bear the weight of the water which 278 the war of 1812, conflict and deception will be upon it when the banks of the river are cut?” The engineer said that he was, but Pakenham was skeptical and said, “I should be far more so if a second dam was constructed.”181 That evening, the British engineers cut the banks of the river to fill the canal and float the boats that had been dragged into it. The rush of water flowed across the one thousand yards of the field toward the swamp, and indeed began to fill the canal. But when the water piled up against the dam, it was as Pakenham had feared. The dam gave way, and the captured water drained into the swamp, leaving precious little in the canal to float the boats. The engineers worked furiously to stem the flow, but the night slowly drifted away. Forty-three boats had been pulled into the canal and were parked, bow to stern, ready to enter the river. “Between 8 and 9 o’clock the first boats were put into the river,” said Colonel Dickson.182 Getting them over the mud bar where the levee had been cut proved very difficult. The unwieldy boats, especially the larger ones, had to be dragged and manhandled and pushed and shoved until they tipped over that mud wall and slid down on the riverbank toward the water. The struggling men, some hauling on ropes, others buried in mud to their waists, with their shoulders to the hulls, strained to inch them over the brink. It was pains- takingly slow. “The best part of the Night was employed in getting the boats afloat,” said Dickson, “so that a quarter past three in the Morning only 30 were in the water, and 13 still to get in.”183 at five o’clock, there were still nine boats left in the extended Villere Canal. Pakenham did not want to call off the operation and reasoned that if Thornton’s attack could not accomplish its original mission, then his delayed attack might serve as a diversion to the main attack he would launch on the east bank. With that thought, he ordered an extra 100 men to be crammed into the thirty-four boats floating in the dark on the river. The original plan to ferry across 1,400 men for the west-bank attack was now reduced to only 560.184 The anticipated success of Pakenham’s plan had called for Thornton’s force to ferry across at night, move to an assault line, attack Patterson’s force, and seize the American guns. Those guns were then to be swung to engage and rake Jackson’s main line on the opposite bank. The signal for Pakenham to launch the east-bank attack was to be Thornton’s firing of a Congreve rocket confirming that he had taken the guns.185 Thornton’s force was to then unleash its devastating flanking artillery fire on Jackson’s line. Pakenham’s main body would surge ahead in three columns and storm the the final attack 279 ramparts now being pummeled by Thornton’s captured American guns. While bombarding the American line, the rest of Thornton’s infantry was to move quickly upriver, to further threaten New Orleans from the opposite bank of the river. They would fire Congreve rockets into the city, start fires, and create great alarm and panic.186 Jackson would then be forced to abandon his line and fall back to confront this flanking threat. In the main attack, General Keane would attack the American right, by advancing down the river road, hoping to draw enemy forces away from the opposite position by the swamp. General Gibbs would strike the American left by the swamp, where the attack on December 28 had some success, and where the rampart was not as formidable. Newly arrived General Lambert was to be in reserve with his force. In preparation for the east-bank attack, the British had prepared ladders to scale the rampart and fascines (bundled sugar cane) to throw into the canal to fill it and allow a mounting of the wall. There were sixteen long ladders with planks and ten small ones.187 The Forty-Fourth Regiment had been assigned this vital task to carry these bundles and ladders in the most dangerous approach to the canal. “It requires the very elite of an army for such an undertaking,” said Captain Cooke, “for soldiers that will place ladders under a heavy fire are capable of anything, as it requires the most desperate [effort] to lug them along over the broken ground, ditches, and other obstacles, the men all falling from the effects of the enemy’s balls.”188 finally, the long-delayed Colonel Thornton shoved off from the east bank almost eight hours after he had planned to depart. Although the river’s slow current still carried the men downriver almost a mile from where they put into the water, the low river had actually allowed a crossing. Had it been swiftly running, or the raging torrent it is in the spring, a crossing would never have been possible. But even as Thornton’s force rowed on, undetected and in perfect silence, a glance to the east revealed the first streaks of dawn. They should already have secured Patterson’s guns. They landed on Andry’s Plantation, about three and a half miles from the American line, formed quietly on the riverbank, and moved forward into the assault. But as they marched to the attack, the night was gone, and it was a gray daylight, and on the opposite bank, a signal rocket suddenly streaked into the sky. It was the signal for the main attack to begin, and Thornton was nowhere near the American guns.189 on the east bank, the British attacking force had moved forward under the cover of darkness and were in an advanced position to launch the 280 the war of 1812, conflict and deception ground attack. Pakenham had no information on the mission on the west bank, although he certainly had to know that it had been greatly delayed, and had departed his position almost as the sun was rising. Certainly he knew that it could in no way be in possession of the American guns. He had the option to withdraw and wait for Thornton’s force to overwhelm Patterson. But his lines were now visible to the Americans. Perhaps he felt them to be in an exposed position, so that a withdrawal would subject his men to murderous artillery fire. Quartermaster William Surtees had heard the orders the previous night, and after dark he walked the ground to examine the route over which his battalion was to advance. He had not liked what he heard during the brief- ing and said that he went to sleep with “a considerable degree of despon- dency. . . . I almost felt confident of its failure.”190 Pakenham, faced with delaying his attack or launching it, chose the latter. Anyone who has been a military commander can understand the anxiety of this decision. There was a lot more to it than meets the eye. Since Pakenham understood that assaulting Jackson’s line frontally held little possibility of success, he had devised a credible plan to make a secondary, simultaneous attack on the west bank. Since the west-bank attack was crucial to success, it is hard to fathom why his main attack should still be launched without the sound of Thornton’s captured guns firing on Jackson’s line. And it is even harder to understand how Pakenham could not have understood that the west-bank operation was absolutely vital to success, and not just a diversion. Without it, this new attack would simply be a repeat of the two attacks that had failed on December 28 and January 1. It had been those failures that made Pakenham seek an alternative tactic. Those two previous failures had not, however, been catastrophes. The British army had on those occasions been forced to withdraw from the field under fire, but it had mostly withdrawn intact. So to withdraw from the field now, or to simply lie in position until Thornton’s captured guns could fire on Jackson, would seem to be a viable choice. An armchair general who thinks that attacks are stopped and started by pressing a button is ignorant of the complexity of battle. General Pakenham faced a dilemma that has never been examined by armchair generals. What was he to do about the thirty-four boats now vulnerably exposed in the river? They were temporarily hidden by the shroud of darkness, but dawn was fast approaching when they would be visible. If he called off the main attack, the boats would be spotted by Patterson’s batteries on the west bank, the final attack 281 and one can only imagine the enthusiasm that would have been aroused among the gunners on the schooner Louisiana. If General Pakenham lost those boats, his chance to outflank Jackson’s line would be forever lost. His only choices were to launch the east-bank attack without Thornton’s flanking movement or wait for Thornton to overrun Patterson’s batteries before he launched the east-bank attack. He was not in a position to call off the entire attack, as some have suggested. Even his aide Major Harry Smith had advised him to wait after the general admitted, “Thornton’s people will be of no use whatever to the general attack.”191 This was at a time when it was not yet light, and withdrawal of the army from their forward attack positions on the east bank would not have been under American observation. Even after daybreak he should have been able to count on a concealing blanket of fog. “Although day had broke,” said William Surtees, “still a sort of fog hung the surface of the earth and the British general might have withdrawn his front columns which formed within seven hundred yards of the American lines with the utmost ease and facility and then have quietly waited to see the upshot of those sent across the river.”192 But Pakenham dismissed this idea, and Smith’s advice, saying, “I have twice deferred the attack.”193 Even though he feared that any delay would play into Jackson’s hands in his ability to strengthen his lines, his statement is puzzling, since he now moved to initiate the very same tactics that had been twice repulsed. How would postponing employing those same failed tactics for a third time hurt his army? But Pakenham pressed on, abandoning the principle of his two-pronged assault. William Surtees wrote, “Poor Sir Edward seemed like one bereft of his reason. . . . He thought it as dangerous to turn back as to go forward with the operation, consequently he ordered the rocket to be fired.”194 in front of the British command post, John Henry Cooke had moved to an advanced artillery battery. “The mist was slowly clearing off,” he observed, “and objects could only be discerned at two or three hundred yards distance, as the morning was rather hazy; we had only quitted the battery two minutes, when a Congreve was thrown up, but whether from the enemy or not we could not tell; for some seconds it whizzed backward and forwards in such a zig zag way, that we all looked up to see whether it was coming down on our heads.”195 as the rocket fell into the river, for two minutes there was silence. The assembled British force held their positions, not moving an inch, as if wait- 282 the war of 1812, conflict and deception ing for some order to advance. That silence was broken by “the most vehe- ment firing from the British artillery.”196 They had begun hammering the American line before they could even see their target. “The American artillery responded with their cannon,” said Cooke, “and thus it was that the gunners of the English and the Americans were firing through the mist at random, or in the supposed direction whence came their respective balls through the fog.”197 as the battle began, General Pakenham was completely unaware of a severe problem. The sixteen ladders and 300 fascines were not in a position to support the attack.198 They had been stored in a particular redoubt, and Colonel Thomas Mullins and his Forty-Fourth Regiment were to have carried them forward. But he obviously did not know where they were, nor had he been eager for the job. He had been heard to say, “My regiment has been ordered to execution. Their dead bodies are to be used as a bridge for the rest of the army to march over.”199 he was now in a position far forward of where the ladders were stored, and as the signal rocked soared in the sky, he discovered they were nowhere to be found. “Thus,” said William Surtees, “when he ought to have been in front to throw them into the ditch to allow the other troops to pass over, he was nearly half a mile in rear seeking for them.”200 along the rampart of the American line, anxious eyes strained to see through the veil of fog, and as it thinned and then lifted, the British army appeared, fully deployed in battle formation and stretching two-thirds of the way across the battlefield. Lieutenant Samuel Spotts, commanding Battery No. 6 on the American left, fired the first aimed shot. The British line maneuvered into tactical columns, and from both sides of the field,C ongreve rockets launched toward the American line and sailed over it. Major General Samuel Gibbs moved his 2,300-man force obliquely toward the American left by the swamp, where he had determined the line was most vulnerable. On the opposite side of the field, General Keane advanced along the river road toward the right of Jackson’s line, and toward the Crescent Battery and the new redoubt. If there was any doubt in General Pakenham’s mind that Thornton had neither reached nor captured Patterson’s guns, it should have been instantly removed when those very guns began hammering Keane’s column. The new American redoubt near the river had not escaped the British eye as a dangerous position. Marching in front of General Keane was a the final attack 283

Attack on Jackson’s line, January 8. Courtesy National Park Service. small force led by Lieutenant Colonel Robert Rennie, whose mission was to eliminate that redoubt. General Keane slid his brigade to Rennie’s right, more toward the center of the battlefield, and was prepared to support either him or General Gibbs on the extreme right. As Gibbs moved toward the left flank of the American line, his march paraded him across the fields of fire of Batteries 6, 7, and 8, and theA mericans fired solid, grape, and chain shot into his massed ranks without letup. The red-coated bodies fell like toy soldiers, and the cannons ripped huge gaps in their lines. These two regiments,” said Captain Cooke, “were every now and then almost enveloped by the clouds of smoke that hung over their heads. . . . The echo from the cannonade and musketry was so tremendous . . . that the vibration seemed as if the earth was cracking and tumbling to pieces. . . . It was the most awful and grandest mixture of sounds to be conceived.”201 still Gibbs’s columns marched on, and at a distance of less than two hundred yards, the Tennesseans and Kentuckians opened fire upon them with their long rifles. Gibbs’s line staggered and struggled to reformed, and then attacked again, only to be driven back. But they were undaunted in courage and once more surged forward, but each step was with fewer men 284 the war of 1812, conflict and deception advancing. The thin line finally broke. The awesome artillery and small- arms firepower drove the survivors to seek shelter in the nearby swamp and woods. Even had they managed to reach the canal, there was no Colonel Mullins—and no ladders. A few of Gibbs’s men jumped into the Rodriguez Canal, moved through the several feet of mud and water to the base of the rampart, and began carving steps into the wall with their bayonets. Lieutenant John Leavock climbed the makeshift footholds and stood victoriously atop the barrier; but he was the only one. Looking around, he exclaimed, “The two leading regiments had vanished as if the earth had opened and swallowed them up.”202 He became an immediate prisoner. General Gibbs shouted out above the din, “Let me live until tomorrow and I’ll hang him [Colonel Mullins] to the highest tree in that swamp.”203 He spurred his horse forward and attempted to rally his men through the hail of shot and shell, but he suddenly fell, mortally wounded by four bullets. General Pakenham also had come up on the gallop, leading some of the lost ladder-bearers, and was also shouting encouragement. But a flying shard of metal smashed into his knee, and in the fusillade of bullets, his horse fell dead. The general fell to the ground but was quickly on his feet again and remounted a second horse. He had not gone far when he was shot again, this time fatally, and he was dead as soon as he fell into the arms of his nearby aide. On the British left, General Keane now attempted to wheel toward the sound of battle coming from General Gibbs’s brigade. But the combined bombardment from the American main line and from Patterson’s blazing, west-bank batteries pinned him down. To his front, Colonel Rennie’s small force moved along the riverbank in the attack toward the American redoubt and the Crescent Battery. They had driven in the outposts and were on their heels as they fell back toward the safety of the redoubt. Rennie’s men, too, had to run the gauntlet of Patterson’s west-bank guns, but Rennie had some protection from the cannon fire coming from Jackson’s line to his front. They could not fire on his advancing column for fear of also killing the retreating American outposts. As the Americans scrambled over the redoubt wall, the British climbed in after them, and the two groups fought hand-to-hand. But the fight was brief and the American defenders (the Seventh Infantry) were forced out the rear of the redoubt and across a small plank that separated them from the main defensive line. the final attack 285

rennie now controlled the redoubt, but the Seventh poured fire into that position from their elevated location along the main line and forced his exit. They regrouped and advanced in two strong columns against the Americans. One was along the road and the second along the river’s edge. The Seventh Infantry, the marine detachment, and the artillery batteries blasted away just as fast as they could shoot and reload, but still the British advanced, and Rennie led a final charge and mounted the breastworks. Two other British officers,C aptain Henry and Major King, leaped up onto the top of the rampart with him and joined in this moment of conquest. Colonel Rennie triumphantly raised his arm and shouted “Hurra, boys, the day is ours!”204 But his victory cry was cut short, and his victorious mounting of the breastworks immediately drew a concentrated American fire. Formed to the rear of the defending line of marines, were Beale’s Rifles, and seeing the line breached, and the redcoats on the rampart, they delivered a volley of rifle fire into the three triumphant figures outlined in the haze and smoke. Colonel Rennie and the two other officers staggered and pitched backward into the ditch.205 That brief penetration was the only success for the British army during the terrible half hour’s attack. Rennie’s momentary mounting of the wall would be the only breach of Jackson’s line. During the whole of the attack, while both flanks were furiously engaged, the center of the American line looked on as observers. They had only been able to fire a few shots at forty-five-degree angles, and at a great range. Some of these anxious soldiers jumped down from their positions and made daring forays immediately in front of the Rodriguez Canal. Only there could they get a shot at the British columns swarming on their right and left. Such was the case with at least 800 rifles of Plauche’s, d’Aquin’s and LaCoste’s Battalions, who were masked from the action. Longing for a shot at the capote rouge, some ignored orders and ventured out to the front until finally restrained by their officers.206 And from the rear of the line came the sound of music. From the opening shot, and above the din of the battle, the Orleans Battalion’s band blared out Yankee Doodle and did not cease until the last assault had been repulsed.207 The view of the cannonade from the British side was quite different. Captain Cooke had witnessed the terrifying sight of artillery shot mowing down the closely packed ranks of soldiers. “The first objects we saw . . . were the cannon balls tearing up the ground and crossing one another, and bounding along like so many cricket-balls though the air, coming on our 286 the war of 1812, conflict and deception left flank from the American batteries on the right bank of the river, and also from their lines in our front.”208 The battlefield was quickly obscured in a rolling smoke cloud that alter- nately faded and reformed as the American cannons fired. Those British soldiers waiting for an order to advance to exploit a breakthrough could see nothing. “We had run the gauntlet from the left to the center in front of the American lines,” said Captain Cooke, “in hope of joining the assault. . . . All at once many soldiers were met wildly rushing out of the dense clouds of smoke lighted up by a sparkling sheet of fire.”209 The attack that had begun with the signal rocket had ended with the most fearsome one-sided cannonading and volley-firing imaginable. Pak- enham’s army perished on this narrow battlefield, confronted by a solid American line commanded by a determined general who excelled in the art of strategy and tactics. “Little more than one thousand soldiers were left unscathed out of the three thousand that attacked the American lines,” said Cooke, “and they fell like the very blades of grass beneath the scythe of the mower.”210 when the smoke of the final firing guns along the American line had cleared, the field in front of the position was like a field filled with red and white flowers. Those flowers were the strewn bodies of the slain and those who had been driven to earth by their wounds or had collapsed in fear. General Jackson mounted the rampart and took in the awful scene. He was aghast and amazed. “I never had so grand and awful an idea of the resurrection as on that day. After the smoke of the battle had cleared off somewhat, I saw in the distance more than five hundred Britons emerging from the heaps of their dead comrades, all over the plain, rising up and . . . coming forward and surrendering.”211 But this almost poetic description of the battlefield after the terrible slaughter was stripped of any romantic notions by those who lay among the dead and wounded. One of them, Sergeant John Spencer Cooper, Seventh Royal Fusiliers, said:

The balls flew so thickly that we were ordered to lie down to avoid the shower. My right hand man received a bullet in his forehead, and fell dead across my feet. Another man, about ten or twelve files on my right, was smashed to pieces by a cannon ball. I felt something strike my cap; I took it off, and found sticking to it a portion of his brains, about the size of a marble. A young man on my left got a wound on the top of his head, and ran to the surgeon the final attack 287

behind us; he was dressed and sent into his place again. Close to him, another man had his arm so badly fractured near the shoulder that it was taken out of the cup. A few yards behind sat a black man, with all the lower part of his face shot away; his eyes were gone, and the bones of his brow all jagged, and dripping blood. Near him, in a ditch, lay one of the 43rd, trying to hold in his bowels.212

On the west bank of the river, Colonel Thornton’s force had heard the opening shots of the battle as they maneuvered through the brush along the water’s edge, at the double-quick, to seize the batteries of Patterson and Morgan. The first obstacle to their advance was 120L ouisiana militia, under the command of Major Paul Arnaud, one-half mile from the British landing site. The Americans defended from behind a hasty breastwork, but except for one sentinel, they were all asleep, and “a boat with a carronade in her bow, got upon their flank, [and] gave them a single discharge of grape.”213 In a moment they fled to the rear. Next were the several hundred poorly armed and exhausted Kentuck- ians under Lieutenant Colonel John Davis. This exhausted body of men, who had arrived within the hour, had been thrown into the breach just as Thornton made his landing. As they advanced, they were met by the retreating Louisiana militia, with the British close behind. The Kentuckians fired a few shots and were easily swept aside with the help of grapeshot from the carronades on the British barges that advanced along the shore. “We were ill-armed,” said the Kentuckians.

W e had been on our feet for twenty-four hours, during which time we had hardly tasted food; the cartridges we had were too large for our pieces; on our arrival before day[light], after a hard march of several miles, partly through the mud, without being allowed a moment’s rest, we were ordered to advance a mile further. Having obeyed without a murmur, we found ourselves within view of the enemy, on whom we fired several volleys, maintaining that position, which was none of the best, until, being outflanked on our right, and cannonaded with grape-shot from the barges on our left, we were forced to retreat.214

Now within seven hundred yards of Morgan’s position, Thornton faced the second poorly armed line, re-manned by the newly arrived Kentuck- ians, and he sought to turn its flank. As Thornton struck in two columns, 288 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

Thornton’s Westbank attack. Courtesy National Park Service. the Kentuckians were soon enveloped on both flanks and fired several volleys to cover their retreat. The Louisiana militia, seeing that line broken, also fell back several miles to a position near the schooner Louisiana and reformed.215 The British advanced on Morgan’s position, but now minus Colonel Thornton, who had been severely wounded. His command passed to Lieu- tenant Colonel Richard Gubbins. By ten o’clock, at the cost of 84 casualties, the British finally controlled bothM organ’s and Patterson’s batteries on the west bank; but the retreating Americans had managed to spike the guns of both batteries, rendering them useless to be turned on Jackson’s line. Gubbins fired a Congreve rocket to signal to the already-dead Pakenham that the guns were in British hands.216 This was a huge setback for the Americans. General Jackson said, “The batteries, which had rendered me, for many days, the most important service, though bravely defended, were of course now abandoned: not however, until the guns had been spiked.”217 The important act of spiking these guns, whose capture was the very essence of the British offensive, would seem to be self-evident in that no American gun was ever turned and fired on Jackson’s line. General Jackson, his engineer Major Latour, and Commodore Patterson all reported the spiking, unequivocally. the final attack 289

also, Major Howell Tatum, from his position on the east bank, had anxiously watched Major Thornton’s red-coated force advancing along the west bank—first routing theA merican militia defenders and then overrunning the batteries and the guns. “A short distance above the right of our line they halted, and, as we supposed, with the intention of enfilading our lines, but in this we were mistaken. Several shots were fired at them from the demi- bastion [the redoubt on the east bank] which obliged them to retire from the Levey, where they remained until nightfall.”218 Neither did the writings of British Lieutenant Gleig, who took part in that attack on the west bank, mention one word that the guns were not spiked.219 Nor did Quartermaster William Surtees even suggest it, and Brit- ish Captain John Cooke flatly stated that the guns were spiked. He was waiting for them to shoot. “We waited and waited, still exposed to a cannonade from the front, and in our turn expected to hear all the captured guns open fire and enfilade theA merican entrenchments from right to left, exactly in the same way that the American sloop had raked the English bivouac on the first night of landing; but no such agreeable sounds greeted our ears, the Americans having spiked their guns on the right bank of the river before they were taken possession of.” Yet these facts have been brushed aside by several latter-day revisionists, in order to continue the deception of revisionism. They proclaim that the guns were not spiked and were ready to be turned on Jackson’s lines; and any spiking that was done, was done at a later time by the British themselves. The reason for this denial is to advance a far-fetched scheme that since the guns were not spiked and could have raked the American line, a renewed attack using Lambert’s remaining brigade could have been successful against Jackson’s line.220 a refutation is in order. Tim Pickles, in his undocumented work New Orleans 1815, wrote that Patterson was “unable to oversee the spiking of his guns,” suggesting that although the commodore reported that the guns were spiked, maybe he didn’t “oversee” the process. Then, without any ci- tation, he confusingly concluded that the British captured the batteries and looked across the river and determined the battle was over (a physical impossibility). In fact, Lieutenant Gleig, who was in the west-bank attacking party, said the exact opposite: “When in the act of storming these lines, word was passed through our ranks that all had gone well on the opposite bank.”221 290 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

further confusing the order of events, Pickles wrote that the British force then spiked the very guns they were ordered to turn on the American lines and went on to pursue the retreating American defenders for more than a half mile toward New Orleans, where they were then suddenly ordered to withdraw. Had those been the actions of the British west-bank force, Thornton and his replacement Colonel Gubbins would have been guilty of a severe violation of their orders, and they would certainly have been court-martialed. Even the great Jacksonian scholar Robert Remini fell victim to repeating the spiking fallacy. Without documentation, Remini wrote, “[Patterson’s] orders were not properly carried out, for the British were able to restore half his guns to action.” He continued, “Thornton and his men had just repaired many of Patterson’s guns and were about to enfilade Jackson’s line when news of the disaster on the east bank arrived from General Lam- bert.”222 But, there is not a shred of evidence to back that proclamation that the British had repaired any guns. Robin Reilly’s The British at the Gates also ignored the many reports that the guns were spiked; Reilly offered a single interpretation from an obscure diary as his definitive proof that they were not. A British artillery officer, Major John Michell, who was part of Thornton’s attacking force, noted, “Commenced cleaning enemy’s guns to form a battery to enfilade their lines on the east bank.” Later Michell made a second diary entry: “Re- ceived orders from General Lambert to destroy everything and retire.”223 reilly’s definitive “proof” that the guns were not spiked actually serves as proof that they most certainly were. If the guns had not been spiked by the Americans, then why were they not firing? Michell had been in possession of those guns since ten o’clock. The guns must have still been hot, since Americans had been hammering Pakenham’s advancing line on the east bank—especially Colonel Rennie’s force along the river. Was Major Michell simply incompetent, and thus chose to not fire despite his orders and his ability to do so? Or was it the more believable fact that he could not immediately fire? In fairness to Major Michell, an examination of his words is in order. He didn’t say that the guns were not spiked. The major said that he was preparing to “form a battery.” That means, in basic military parlance, that the existing American batteries were not operational, indicating that the Americans had rendered them useless. the final attack 291

and what was this cleaning? Reilly translated that to be some sort of a prerequisite before Major Michell could fire the guns to “enfilade their lines?” When one captures an enemy’s weapon, he doesn’t need to clean it; he simply turns it on the enemy and shoots. Or perhaps the cleaning Michell is referring to was to clean the spikes from the guns—or maybe his penmanship was confusing and he actually wrote clearing the guns. But cleaning or clearing, it is self-evident that the guns were not ready to shoot. As for Michell’s later entry to “destroy everything and retire,” that had nothing to do with his early January 8 mission. That was in response to his afternoon orders from General Lambert to retire. And that is exactly what he did. That afternoon, he set fire to all the platforms and gun carriages, as well as two sawmills and all the bridges between him and the Americans as he retired.224 He set the west bank ablaze to all who observed it. Major Michell’s brief diary entry, as translated by Reilly, became the basis for him to proclaim that the guns were not spiked, despite Commodore Patterson’s contradictory testimony. Patterson wrote after he had recovered his position later that day, “Recovered all the cannons in my battery, which I immediately commenced drilling and remounting.” To refute Patterson’s report that his men had spiked the guns, Reilly simply accused Patterson of lying.225 But Reilly was not the first British revisionist to try to convert this far- fetched idea into fact. He only copied and repeated an earlier British historian, Carson I. A. Ritchie, who first presented this theory in 1961.R itchie wrote that the attack could have been resumed, since the guns were not spiked. To come to this conclusion, Ritchie also had to overcome a daunting array of obstacles. He had to first ignore all theA merican reports. Then he had to disparage all the contrary reports, even of his own countrymen, and finally he had to conveniently misread the testimony of the chief of British Artillery, Sir Alexander Dickson. Those inconvenient British testimonies needed to be eliminated, and the best way to eliminate them was to denigrate them. Concerning Lieutenant Gleig’s widely read and quoted accounts, Ritchie not only disparaged them; he also slandered Gleig. “[Gleig’s report] must forever remain suspect, in that it was never published outside America,” charged Ritchie. “There is then nothing to prevent its having been edited to conform with American sentiments.”226 292 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

concerning the many other British accounts that stood in the way of his proclamations, Ritchie labeled them as unreliable: “[They] should be treated with caution. . . . They tend frequently to be concerned with the activity of a single regiment in the field, and neglect to see the wood for the trees . . . [and] they may be colored with the disillusionment their authors felt in looking back on the campaign, and they are apt to make many fac- tual mistakes owing to their writers’ faulty recollection of events.”227 finally, Ritchie wrote that Dickson, whom he claimed to much admire, had given the unvarnished, authentic account. “Dickson’s account is not only detailed and authentic, much of what he has to tell us is strikingly novel, so novel that it upsets the whole balance of the accepted picture of New Orleans.”228 However, the most novel aspect of Dickson’s report was Carson Ritchie’s illogical misreading of it. Ritchie wrote, “There is no reason why Dickson should have described how he found Michell’s men at work spiking guns and destroying gun carriages if he had not done so.” 229 But Dickson’s report had its own errors. He wrote, incorrectly, that he had followed Harry Smith across the river on January 8, when in fact, any reading of Smith’s memoirs would have shown that Smith had remained on the east bank. And Colonel Dickson didn’t quite say all that Ritchie credited to him. In truth, he didn’t say he found anyone spiking guns. He wrote that he had been sent by General Lambert to countermand Major Smith’s order to withdraw and “see how far it was in our power to hold our ground there from the west bank.”230 While Major Smith had been the loudest voice imploring Lambert to recall Thornton’s force, he had not ventured across the river to deliver any order to withdraw. But Dickson innocently thought he had, and all his future observations were based on that incorrect assumption. Smith was elsewhere and said, “That able officer Sir A. Dickson, was sent to retire Thornton, and thanks to the fog, he succeeded in doing so unmolested. . . . Late in the afternoon I was sent to the enemy with a flag of truce, and a letter to General Jackson.”231 so who, if anyone, preceded Dickson to give an order to Thornton or Gubbins to withdraw? It certainly wasn’t Smith, and Dickson’s mission was to assess the British position to see if it was strong enough to continue operations on that side. Had a preliminary order to withdraw been hand- signaled across the river? That’s hardly believable, since General Lambert didn’t give the order to withdraw until midday or later on January 8. the final attack 293

But more importantly, when Dickson went over to the other side, he said that he found Major Michell preparing to withdraw, indicating that he thought an order to withdraw had been given. “On my arrival at the entrenchment I found preparation making to execute the order of recall, by Spiking Guns, destroying Gun Carriages, etc. in which operation Major Michel [sic] was employed, but he had very few men (only fifteen artillerymen) to assist him, and the Sailors were in a disorderly manner scattered about in every direction plundering the Enemies’ tents etc.”232 dickson later said, “I ordered the destruction of the Gun Carriages to cease.”233 So obviously Dickson saw guns already spiked, for if spiking had been taking place, he would certainly have ordered that to cease too. What he saw was Patterson’s already spiked guns, and he mistakenly thought that Michell’s men had done the spiking because he thought that Major Smith had preceded him and had given the order to withdraw. But Major Smith was on the east bank and had given no such order, nor had anyone else. Dickson’s time line is flawed.O n the 8th, around noon, he proceeded on to the forward British position, accompanied by Major Michell, leaving the spiked guns behind. They advanced to a position almost twelve hundred yards forward of the guns, where the British infantry had established a front line. From there Dickson examined the ground and made his assessment on the feasibility of continuing attack. The artillery chief could now look directly down Jackson’s line, and he noted that it was an advantageous position but could itself be engaged by Jackson’s guns. Why would he be making that detailed assessment on the possibility of continuing if an order to withdraw had already been issued? And at no time did Dickson see any of Gubbins’s force preparing to withdraw; he even specifically noted that he could not find Major Smith anywhere. Obviously no withdrawal order had been issued. After surveying this advantageous British position, Dickson concluded that “with very little labour, it might easily have been formed into a Connected defense.” Yet from this superior position, he ordered Gubbins to fall back to his original position below Patterson’s spiked guns, “where he could have the Support of our flanking batteries on the oppositeS ide.” In addition they would also be “closer to the boats if ordered to withdraw.”234 So obviously no withdrawal order had yet been given. Why would Gubbins need to fall back for artillery support from the east bank if the captured guns just to his rear had ever been serviceable? And 294 the war of 1812, conflict and deception more puzzling, why would the British have ever spiked the American guns when their front line would have relied on their support, especially since they thought they had won on the east bank? And why not enfilade the vulnerableA merican line from this new, more advantageous forward position. The answer is simple: the guns were spiked and could not be fired. They had always been spiked, and the only argument to the contrary is the illogical one that somehow the British had been the spikers. After Dickson returned to the east bank with his report, the British high command met for a final decision.A dmiral Cochrane wanted the attack to continue, as did Colonel Burgoyne. Others did not, and General Lambert finally decided then, and only then, to recall the west-bank force.235 despite his avid belief that the attack should continue, it was Colonel Burgoyne who dutifully re-crossed the river in the afternoon and issued the order to recall Gubbins’s force. That recall was finally completed in the late afternoon on January 8. Major Howell Tatum, from his American position, observed the final boats landing back on the east bank at 5:00 p.m.236 it is significant to note Dickson’s earlier order for Gubbins to partially withdraw to the original entrenchments below Patterson’s former batteries while awaiting Lambert’s decision. If a withdrawal was ordered, it was to begin only “after Completing the destruction of the Guns etc., which had already been Spiked, and carriages rendered unfit for immediateS ervice.”237 ritchie had contorted Dickson’s words into “proof” and illogically concluded that it was the British who spiked the captured American guns, before the decision had been made to abandon the west-bank operation. At no time did Dickson ever say that the guns were serviceable, and at no time did he say that he had stopped a British effort to spike them. He always saw them spiked and mistakenly assumed it was in response to an earlier order that in reality had never been issued. He only stopped the possible destruction of gun carriages while most everyone was off ransacking and looting. Preserving the carriages would have been the logical action to allow the British force to maintain their positions on the west bank. “Batteries might be placed effectively to enfilade the Enemies line,” Dickson had observed, “but a force of 2000 men would be necessary to hold the position, and protect our operations on that side.”238 having thus disposed of inconvenient testimonies, Carson Ritchie sought to prove the other side of the coin, that the guns were originally the final attack 295 not spiked. He wrote, “Michell would hardly have omitted to mention, on his original report . . . that the guns he had captured were spiked if they had been so disabled—he would have been in serious trouble if he had done so [not reported the spiking].”239 why is that? It’s an absurd conclusion. Gubbins had signaled, by firing a rocket, that he had captured the batteries, which was his mission. Firing on Jackson’s line was to immediately begin, and it was critical to the operation. One would more logically think that Major Michell’s failure to fire would have gotten him in “serious trouble.” But in truth, had Michell simply chosen not to fire, it would have been an infinitely more egregious omission and he would have been court-martialed. But both Ritchie, and later Reilly, have no comment on such an omission, or the lack of a court-martial. Ritchie offered as further “proof” that the guns were not spiked, the “significant fact that Patterson lost no men in prisoners or wounded.” In his mind he concluded, “If Patterson’s men would have been busy rolling shot into the river and driving iron nails into touchholes . . . some of them would surely have been taken prisoner.” His reasoning? It is “not a very quick operation.”240 actually, spiking a gun is a very quick operation, as any student of military history knows. It takes less than ten seconds to drive a spike into a touchhole. And if Patterson’s men had not rolled the shot and powder into the river, there would have been a ready supply on hand, and even less of an excuse for Major Michell not to have been firing on Jackson’s line. The end result of this attempted revisionism concludes with Ritchie employing an annoying fallacy called petitio principii. He begs a question by claiming what he has not proven. “Can there be any doubt,” he asks, “that Jackson would have been forced to draw-back, at least to one of his other lines, if Michell had been allowed to deliver a flanking fire?”241 Allowed? No one was stopping Michell. He had hours to fire.H e did not even fire when American reinforcements from New Orleans approached his position later that day, or even to cover the dangerous re-crossing of the river. There was no cease-fire on the west bank. All of this was an awkward effort to put a better face on the reality of the crushing British defeat. Ritchie, in his conclusion, unwittingly revealed his motive for his contorted thesis: “Victory had been handed to [Jackson] by the British evacuation of the South [West] bank. [Had that not happened], 296 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

New Orleans would not have been the battle we now know; the British would have achieved at least a token success.”242 His whole argument was to attempt to prove that the British could have achieved “a token success.” Thirteen years later, Reilly copied Ritchie’s face-saving fallacy and championed it with equal vigor.243 He wrote, “Jackson . . . appears to have believed at the time that Patterson’s guns had been spiked. Had he known that they required little more than cleaning before use against his line he would have realized that his position was critical.”244 But Reilly, like Ritchie, took no time to explain the stunning silence of Michell’s captured guns; and he repeated, contrary to fact, that Major Smith had crossed the river and delivered the orders to withdraw.245 Fur- thermore, in his following description of the terrible situation on the east bank, he unwittingly revealed the illogic of his own argument. “The Ameri- can musket fire had ceased soon after 8 o’clock,” Reilly wrote, “but their batteries kept up a continuous bombardment for another six hours.”246 so, are we to believe that Major Michell, in possession of sixteen Amer- ican pieces—more guns than Jackson had in his own line, and with an ample supply of balls and powder—sat by for six hours and did nothing but watch, and wash his captured guns, before he spiked them, while his countrymen endured this fierceA merican bombardment?

On the east bank, General Lambert had assumed command. He had seen Gubbins’s victorious signal rocket from the west bank around ten o’clock247 and detailed his chief of artillery, Colonel Alexander Dickson, to cross the river and assess the situation at the captured American position. General Jackson was also aware of the fall of his west-bank position and hurried his own messenger with orders to the reserve force in New Orleans. That force was to immediately mount out, cross the river at New Orleans, attack the British at Patterson’s position, and drive them out. General Jean Humbert had a 400-man battalion on a ferry at one o’clock in the afternoon, and his rapid departure was certainly not encouraging to the observing citizens, anxious for news from the front. Humbert’s orders were to join with what was left of Morgan’s force and dislodge the British force.248 around noon on the battlefield, a single British officer, Major Harry Smith, certainly not on the west bank, with a bugler and a soldier carrying a the final attack 297 white flag, approached Jackson to request, forL ambert, a twenty-four-hour armistice to remove the casualties, bury the dead, and treat the wounded. Jackson agreed to an armistice, but only on the east bank, as he had no intention of halting the advance of General Humbert’s force and allowing Gubbins a chance to strengthen his threatening position.249 early in the afternoon, Alexander Dickson returned from his inspection of the position on the west bank and reported to General Lambert. After consulting with Admiral Cochrane, Lambert ordered the entire force to withdraw and re-cross the river, and by five o’clock the British army was reformed on the east bank.250 So from midmorning of January 8 through early midafternoon, not a shot was fired from the capturedA merican guns on the west bank. In New Orleans, the sounds of the battle were easily heard by Mrs. Henry Clement. Her husband, Henry, serving with Beale’s Rifles, had been wounded during the December 23 night attack and her future son-in-law was taken prisoner. Her house was, “owing to a bend in the river . . . but two miles from the battlefield,” she said. “The battle of Jan. 8th commenced at dawn of day and continued without cessation until 10. The cannon began firing first and it seemed like one continued peal of tremendous thunder, and the small arms roared like distant thunder. The horror of that morning is beyond my abilities to describe. . . . We were prepared to run as far as we could knowing that if that merciless foe got the upper hand that not only our property, but also our lives would be destroyed.”251 The anxious population awaited news from the nearby battlefront. At the Ursulines’ convent, the sisters, with a huddled group of faithful, prayed in an overnight vigil before a statue of Our Lady of Prompt Succor. That beautiful icon had arrived from France in December of 1810, having been commissioned by Mother St. Michel Gensoul in honor of a “prompt” answer to her prayer that she be allowed to come to the struggling convent in New Orleans. In the presence of that statue, Mass was celebrated on the morning of January 8. Mother Ste. Marie de Vezin prayed to the Blessed Virgin for “quick help” needed for an American victory and promised a Mass of Thanksgiving to be sung every year after, if that prayer was answered.252 when the early-morning sounds of the cannons roared, like the moth drawn to the flame, the old men and young boys in the city hurried toward Jackson’s line and stopped only when they could see the flash and smoke from the American guns. The young boys climbed trees for a better view, 298 the war of 1812, conflict and deception and if the British army had breached the American lines, they were prepared to race back with the news. In the city, many of the ladies were dressed and prepared to flee with their children. A wounded British officer, attended to byM rs. Edward Liv- ingston in her own house, was reported to have told her, “If you have the means of going, I advise you, go.” 253 But most women possessed no means to escape. They had no money, the male members of their families were at the front, and horses they might have used had been confiscated for the battle.S ome of the older men were posted in front of banks and public buildings, armed with whatever they possessed—most likely wondering what they would do to confront an approaching patrol of redcoats.254 The doors of St. Louis Cathedral were open and Mass was at its usual time; but it was a Mass with the distant rolling thunder of cannon fire accompanying the organ. Some of the Ursuline nuns, attending the wounded at hospital beds, prayed silently; and those who remained at the convent were praying in the chapel adorned with the golden statue of Our Lady of Prompt Succor. Edward Livingston wrote: “This pious sisterhood were . . . disturbed from their holy vigils, before the dawn of the 8th of January, by the roar of cannon and volleys of musketry. The calendar which pointed out the prayers of the day was hastily opened, and indicated the auspicious name of St. Victoria! They . . . implored the God of battles to nerve the arm of their protectors, and turn the tide of combat against the invaders of their country.”255 The first information from the battlefield came in the form of a solitary rider on an exhausted horse. He dashed through the streets seeking doctors and pharmacists with medicines, and anyone who could amputate a limb. They were to proceed immediately to the front. It was not for the Ameri- cans but for the British. Then came the call for all means of transportation to move to the battlefield. The streets suddenly filled with jubilant citizens; music played from hastily retrieved instruments, and singing and cheering filled the air. The city had been saved. Later in the afternoon, a somber procession of forty carts and other vehicles was seen approaching the city on the levee road; and in the water, ten boats also paralleled that march. The carts and boats carried 400 British wounded. Walking dejectedly behind was a mass of British prisoners escorted by guards from Carroll’s force.256 the final attack 299

The British army maintained its position on the battlefield for ten days. Jackson fully expected it to resume an attack on his front or from another quarter. His suspicions were not wrong. On January 9, five British ships moved into position on the river to his south and began bombarding Fort St. Philip, the only barrier between the river’s entrance and the poorly defended position at English Turn. Could this be the start of a combined land and river assault? If it was, Jackson decided to motivate the enemy to abandon the field in his front. He began an incessant bombardment of Lambert’s army, giving no rest to the soldiers. The attack on Fort St. Philip continued unabated for the next ten days, and the fort answered the bombardment with fire of its own whenever the boats moved within range. On January 18, after having fired more than one thousand shells at the American fort, the British bombardment fleet weighed anchor and sailed away.257 during the exact time of the bombardment, General Lambert was making his own plans to withdraw his army. He would withdraw as he had come, except that he would create a path all the way to the shore of Lake Borgne, many miles distant. That required building a road, “through the very center of a morass where human foot had never before trodden,” said Lieutenant Gleig.258 with no trees of other materials of wood, great quantities of reeds were bundled, much as the cane fascines had been prepared for the attack. These bundles were laid “across the quagmire.” It took nine days to lay this path of reeds to the shores of Lake Borgne. “On the evening of the 18th . . . trim- ming the fires, and arranging all things in the same order as if no change were to take place, regiment after regiment stole away,” said Lieutenant Gleig. “Profound silence was maintained; not a man opening his mouth, except to issue necessary orders, and even then speaking in a whisper.”259 it took the entire night to cover the distance from the battlefield to the Fisherman’s Huts, where the entire operation had begun on December 22. “During the whole of the night we scrambled and tumbled about in this bog,” said Captain John Henry Cooke. “The straggling files of the soldiery extended along the quagmire for miles, enclosed by high reeds; every countenance was plastered with mire; in fact the whole army were covered with a cake of mud from the top of the head to the sole of the foot.”260 300 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

at the huts, they halted and remained until boats could come and take them to the anchored fleet eighty miles away. O“ n the morning of the 25th of January we quitted the morass,” said Captain Cooke. “The ship’s barge I was in conveyed nearly fifty men, and was rowed by twelve men-of-war’s men; and had I not been present, I never could have believed that sailors, with ponderous oars, could have continued such exertions for so many successive hours. . . . Thus after twenty days bivouacking, and with rotten shoes, we were put on board the Bucephalus frigate anchored off Cat Island.”261 on January 27, 1815, the entire British fleet sailed away.

General Jackson returned to the city of New Orleans on January 20, having been at the front since he launched his night attack on December 23. He was greeted with a tumultuous reception. He requested the Abbé Dubourg, the Apostolic Prefect of the State of Louisiana, to reserve the twenty-third of January “as a day of public thanksgiving to the Almighty, for his signal interposition in behalf of the safety and honor of the country.”262

The old cathedral was burnished up for the occasion. Evergreens decorated the entrance and the interior. The Public Square or Plaza blazed with beauty splendor and elegance. In its centre stood a graceful triumphal arch supported by six Corinthian columns and festooned with evergreens and flowers. Beneath the arch stood two young children on pedestals holding a laurel wreath whilst near them as if their guardian angels was a bright damsel representing Liberty and a more sedate one personifying Justice. From the arch to the entrance of the cathedral the loveliest girls of the city had been ranged in two rows to represent the various States and Territories. They were dressed in pure white with blue veils and silver stars on their brows. Each bore a small flag inscribed with the name of the State she represented and a small basket trimmed with blue ribbons and full of flowers. Behind each a shield and lance were stuck in the ground with the name, motto and seal of each of the States. The shields were linked together with verdant festoons which extended from the arch to the door of the cathedral.263

on February 4, the news of the Battle of New Orleans finally reached the north. The National Intelligencer’s headlines, in its largest type, flashed in the street: “almost incredible victory ! ! !”264 the final attack 301

There was one final gasp left in the British offensive. On February 8 the infantry again formed to attack—this time at Fort Bowyer, controlling the approach to Mobile. Seizing Mobile could perhaps still validate the British offensive objectives. On the 9th the army attacked and laid siege; and the outnumbered force of 400 Americans surrendered on the 11th. However, a follow-up attack to capture Mobile never happened because news from England, announcing peace, reached the British command on February 14; and it was ratified on the 16th in Washington. The war was officially over. Ep ilogue

The superb historians and legal minds1 who formed the 1927 Tennessee Commission of Research, and who were dedicated to confronting the misunderstanding and revisionism concerning the Battle of New Orleans, left a document, published in 1935, that should be read by every student or teacher of history. The title was Battle of New Orleans, Its Real Meaning: Exposure of Untruth Being Taught Young America. Teaching young America in 1927 was guided by writers of Tennessee schoolbooks who proved to not be good historians. They were nothing more than the equivalent of older schoolboys who had copied homework from each other, and unfortunately for them, the first one had gotten it wrong. Their collective work today would not be identified by the concocted aca- demia labels of academic history or popular history—it would simply be labeled bad history! The Tennessee schoolbooks had become the depository of works by those authors that exhibited a dreadful lack of honest research. Their undocumented conclusions continued to proclaim a false history of the War of 1812, and particularly the concluding Battle of New Orleans; and it was the work of that Tennessee Commission to confront and expose it. But after eight years, when the commission finally published its findings, they were read, like many reports, only by the most ardent enthusiasts. History itself had moved past the War of 1812 by more than a hundred years. The misunderstandings and false conclusions were by then firmly entrenched. The Civil War was the hot topic and a dizzying array of scholarly books poured off the presses to be eagerly consumed by an enthralled public. The damaging period of Reconstruction after the Civil War had even caused the cancellation of the annual celebration of January 8. That holi-

302 epilogue 303 day had for the previous fifty years been observed with the same enthusiasm as the 4th of July. It had been referred to as the Second War for Independence. In New Orleans, January 8 had been a massive celebration linking December 20, the first appearance ofL ouisiana under the Ameri- can flag, withD ecember 23, Jackson’s night attack that paralyzed the Brit- ish Army. But that triple celebration drifted into obscurity. So, in 1935, after the Tennessee Commission’s findings were published, bad history, like the bad apple, was not removed from the barrel. The report had indeed identified the rotten fruit, but it was too late, and the barrel became unsalvageable. A succession of writers, misinformed historians, and revisionists continued to perpetuate the “untruth” for the next eighty years. Consider the case of the 2011 PBS production The War of 1812. Procla- mation history substantially diminished, if not completely compromised, the historical value of this otherwise entertaining film.A lopsided array of contributing British, Canadian, and Indian history experts (sixteen out of twenty-one), laced their comments with the old chants of the early revisionists. In the telling of the story of the stunning American victories on the high seas, the narrator diminished them by repeating the old British alibis from the previous 200 years: “With more guns and more men, the Yankee frigates simply overpowered their British counterparts.” Concerning the savagery of Indian massacres of helpless prisoners, women, and children (Fort Dearborn, Fort Mims, the River Raisin), a Tecumseh historian surprisingly suggests that the Indians had “a logical reason for killing prisoners. They had no jails to put them in!” A second contributor, a law professor, involved in “Native American” affairs, called the massacres a matter of “political spin.” Nor is there a mention of the rape and murder of the women in Hampton by the British Army while the officers looked the other way. There is no mention of the Battle of Baltimore, or the killing of General Ross, and Britain simply “abandoned” its attack after failing to take Fort McHenry. But it is concerning the Battle of New Orleans where the entrenched revisionism reveals itself most stridently. The narrator proclaimed that the history of the battle was the history of a legend. Over the years,” he said, “a story has been told.” He continued by portraying General Jackson as having arrived in New Orleans after a “brutal . . . massacre of the Red Stick Indians.” A British historian from Kings College in London chipped in to describe his version of the strategy of the British Army. “The British had to advance up the river, they had to clear Jackson’s three defensive positions, 304 the war of 1812, conflict and deception and reach the city—a pretty straightforward task.” Could there be a more abysmal misunderstanding of what went on during those climactic three weeks. There was nothing “straightforward” about it, and no one came “up the river.” Finally the narrator wrapped up the war and the film by display- ing a complete failure to grasp the intrigue and brilliant British deception during the negotiations at Ghent. He concluded. “The terms of the Treaty of Ghent were crystal clear; the war had been a stalemate!”2 This allure of revisionism has prompted many to carve out niches, to present apocryphal history and concocted schemes. Such presentations served an audience that loved to embrace the thought of hidden revelation and conspiracy. Just consider the volume of similar works associated with the conspira- torial perceptions of the Kennedy assassination, Pearl Harbor, and 9/11— not to mention The DaVinci Code or other works presenting “history-got- it-wrong” ideas. One such book recently published on the War of 1812 is provocatively entitled, How Britain Won the War of 1812. Such a title must certainly have been selected with the hope to spur sales. The point is, Americans love conspiracies. One needs only to recall that a suggested conspiracy in the Kennedy assassination resulted in the exhu- mation of Lee Harvey Oswald’s body, long after the event, to verify that it was truly he in the coffin. And movies like JFK, U-555, and Pearl Harbor are entertaining and attract box-office crowds; they should be enjoyed, but the facts in these presentations are based on novels and screenplays loosely associated with history. Such revisions should not be featured on modern-day online encyclopedia pages and reported as facts. The idea that the American guns on the west bank were not spiked is routinely listed as a fact, and these online sources all cite the same originally flawed source. When I was a young graduate student, an excellent professor gave me sage advice when he said, “Revisionist history is usually wrong.” Unfortunately, in the case of the War of 1812, it is not the novelists or screenplay writers that are presenting an incorrect story under the guise of poetic license; it is the bad historians doing the presenting. However, not all works should be painted with such a broad brush. The classic works of historians such as Henry Adams, Frank Updyke, Robert Remini, and Wal- ter Lord, to mention just a few, are not flawed by thin research, and none of them could be accused of ignoring or contorting facts. But even those works are not sufficient to stop the long-chanted refrain that the Battle of epilogue 305

New Orleans was useless, since the peace treaty had been signed and the war was over! The history of the War of 1812 deserves a better fate. The actual facts are far more compelling than proclamation and apocryphal history. The two-centuries-old repeated fallacy that the war ended with the signing of the Treaty of Ghent short-circuits the intrigue, mystery, and drama of the story. There is no development of the brilliant British attempt at deception and the anticipated consequences, because the final act has been deemed superfluous. And Britain’s political tactics to enhance her military ventures while negotiating at Ghent have gone largely unrecognized because of the flawed proclamations of peace. In fact it was the British who were the masters at Ghent, not the Americans. For all the negotiating skills and mental acumen universally credited to the five American negotiators, the true geniuses at Ghent were hidden in the background, far away in London. Certainly on paper, the five Americans were the better team and the better-skilled statesmen. But the three-man British team was there for one specific purpose, and that was tonot negotiate. While they did not possess the skills or experiences in the political arts, they didn’t have to. That was not their job. Their mission was to set the Americans on the defensive. They were figureheads. Their orders were to obstruct progress, obfuscate, and serve as a robotic mouthpiece for the real brain with the power to negotiate and make deals. That person was Lord Liverpool—assisted ably by Lords Bathurst and Castlereagh. So all the eloquent letters and documents and scholarly arguments ema- nating from the learned American team, to answer and confront British arguments and claims, might just as well have been presented to the wooden chairs in which the British team sat. The Americans expected the British negotiators to be as motivated as they in the pursuit of an amicable settlement, but that was not the case. Why the Americans would have expected the British team to display the same good faith is in itself puzzling. The whole British mind-set had not changed one bit in Britain’s long history of phony negotiations over American complaints—especially those involving sailors’ rights and ship seizings. And that naive, wishful thinking cost the Americans dearly, in time, in negotiating position, and most critically in the possibility of future legal vulnerability. After a long period of agonizing British foot-dragging, the Americans grew to completely distrust the British team and suspect that its purpose 306 the war of 1812, conflict and deception was to obfuscate, but still they came back for more. They never quite figured out the military and legal trap into which they had been lured. The long-drawn-out Chesapeake and Leopard affair should have taught the Americans all they needed to know about British perfidy, but it apparently had not, since the Ghent negotiators thought the British really meant to engage in talks with “full reciprocity.” The British team had begun with an arrogant posture that immediately cast the Americans on the defensive, a position from which they never fully recovered. The British bombarded them with a dizzying array of outrageous proposals and demands, all meant to cloud the real issues and to seize the initiative from the opening day. The Americans were always scrambling, and ducking, and reacting to field whatever the British hurled their way. They went to each meeting reacting to British demands. First there were the Indian demands, which were served up as a sine qua non. Indian affairs had nothing to do with the origins of the war. Any conversations on that subject, and perhaps even the chance of a concession, would weaken the Americans. As long as they were forced to talk about Indians, the British did not have to talk about impressments, and time ticked away while they launched their grand military offensives. The Indian demand was a monumental bluff to keep the American contingent off balance and reacting to save the negotiations. Had the Americans at any time walked out or threatened to walk out, the British would have caved in, and the publication of their correspondence verifies exactly that. By presenting scholarly refutations to British demands instead of calling the British bluff, the Americans ensured that the delays would continue. When the Indian affairs had finally been squeezed for every last drop of delay, the British abandoned the entire issue, removed the sine qua non label and moved to their next delaying tactic. It was proof positive that the Indian question, from the beginning, was unimportant to them. It had only been a useful tool. But if the Americans had hoped that there would now be a path to meaningful discussions, they were again duped. The next British demand was just as frustrating as the demand for an Indian state and buffer zone. This time it called for land concessions; and then the British team contested the Americans rights to dry fish on Canada’s shores; and then they wanted to renegotiate and ensure their right to travel the Mississippi River by redefining its origins from an old map. epilogue 307

each of these demands was eventually discarded when no longer needed, discussions were finally reduced to quibbling—over two tiny, seemingly insignificant islands in the Passamaquoddy Bay off the coast ofM as- sachusetts. When the Americans balked at that final absurdity, the British negotiators acted like wounded schoolboys and threatened to scuttle the whole process. They called for the Americans to accept this concession as a matter of British honor, or risk the collapse of the negotiations. And still the Americans were taken in. They finally capitulated on Passamaquoddy and, because of the questioned possession of the islands, agreed to the inclusion of the word possessions in Article 1 of the proposed treaty. So duped were the Americans that they never figured out that the inclusion of that one word, as parsed by the British team, was a poisoned pill that could jeopardize the entire future of the United States. It was all smoke and mirrors, with the real prize, ownership of Loui- siana, shrouded in the smoke. The final draft of the treaty was written in such a way as to nullify American possession of that territory by indirectly linking its questioned possession with the questioned possession of the insignificant Passamaquoddy Islands and the American agreement to address that dispute. But the only way to leave none of this legalistic mumbo jumbo to chance was to have an invincible army and a blockading navy in possession of the disputed territory, which was not the Passamaquoddy Islands, but the city of New Orleans itself, and the Mississippi River. Had that not also been the plan of Napoleon? Who was going to contest his 10,000-man French army? Who would now contest a 10,000-man British army? The New Orleans prize was to be grabbed as the reward of a successful and dramatic military operation. This brilliant British negotiating tactic at Ghent had secured the necessary, legalistic language, and had served up the pitch; it only remained for Pakenham’s army to knock it out of the park. What is there in this documented strategy and tactic not to understand? Revisionists choose to not understand the sequence of these events, because to understand them ruins their argument that the war was already over before the Battle of New Orleans was fought. If the war was not over, then nonsensical proclamations that it was useless, and unnecessary, and the British actually won, all become silly. And if the war was not over, what about the question concerning cap- 308 the war of 1812, conflict and deception tured possessions? They would not be subject to being returned to the status quo. Revisionists are then confronted with the reality that, having won the negotiating battle at Ghent to bring about the decisive battle, the British eventually lost that battle. The war needed to be over to deny the results of the final battle and to make face-saving possible. The total defeat of the British Army at the hands of Jackson’s army can be ignored and nullified by simply proclaiming that it was over.I t would be as if there was an athletic event in which the winning points were scored after time had expired. So when the Tennessee Commission addressed this subject, why was its report not sufficient to root out the revisionist agenda? Because it was like trying to root out an old oak tree. It would have been easy to uproot as a sapling, but now it had a tenacious grip on the earth. Unfortunately, that tree served a second purpose. It offered cover to a cult of proclamation historians seeking to publish novel and controversial theses. After 150 years those theses began to emerge. Their conclusions were not based in fact, but facts were bent to fit their conclusions. And when fact-bending was not possible, then proclamations were in order. Why? Because of a need to avoid the obvious. Some writers needed the guns of Patterson’s batteries to not have been spiked to further the thesis that Jackson’s position was in peril and could have been taken—if only the British had renewed their shattered attack. Other writers needed to minimize the enslavement of 6,000 Americans to be able to deny the true causes of the war. Still others needed to further deny that impressment and ship-seizing were the glaring causes of war by citing that neither was addressed in the proposed Ghent Treaty.

general pakenham

I t is hard not to feel sympathy for the British commanding general. What other commander has ever had to chase his army halfway around the world in order to lead it on a battlefield not of his choosing, to pursue a plan that he had no hand in drafting. It was indeed a poor hand that Pakenham had been dealt. Yet he had some hint of its importance in view of the orders he received upon his appointment, and especially his secret instructions to ignore any rumors of peace and continue his attack until formally told to stop. There was a sense of urgency that Pakenham revealed on that fateful morning of January 8. While it was still dark, his army had moved to its epilogue 309 attack position. He obviously knew that Colonel Thornton’s force had been badly delayed in moving to conduct the second-front attack on the west bank. He had even confided, with much candor, to his aide,C aptain Smith, “Colonel Thornton will be of no use whatever to the general attack.” Captain Smith advised him to take the obvious corrective action and postpone until Thornton could launch his attack. But General Pakenham strangely dismissed Smith’s advice, saying, “I have twice deferred the attack.” What did he mean by that? One might think that he was talking about having postponed his present plan, and that between January 1 and January 8, he had twice scheduled his present attack. But he had not. Pakenham was referring to his two failed attacks on December 28 and January 1. On those two dates, he had not deferred anything. The British army had gone forward and had been hurled back! Was there some sort of time clock ticking in his head as he spoke to Captain Smith? Quartermaster William Surtees observed that the general “seems like one bereft of his reason.” Could there have been a deadline for seizing New Orleans? The proposed treaty was on its way, and perhaps there was a schedule to have a British government installed and function- ing in New Orleans so that when the treaty arrived, New Orleans and the Mississippi River would already be occupied and controlled by the Crown. He certainly knew of the British ministry, embarked on a ship, ready to install a government in the city. And his “extra” orders from Lord Bathurst prior to his departure from London had expressed Bathurst’s skepticism about American ratification of the rumored treaty. “Judging from the experience we have had, the termination of the war must be considered as doubtful.” Why was that? An examination of the terms of the treaty revealed it to be nothing more than a proposed cease-fire. The only article of substance was the sham Passa- maquoddy affair. So why would Bathurst think that United States would refuse to ratify such a lame document? The answer is obvious. He knew that Madison could never present this document for ratification with the British occupying New Orleans and presenting the Ghent Treaty with its “possessions” language to challenge the Louisiana Purchase; unless Madi- son opted for abject surrender. All this might, to some extent, explain Pakenham’s abandoning his carefully thought out plan that modified his twice-failed frontal assaults. But only the general could answer this question. His obvious option would have been to delay his east-bank attack until Thornton had seized Patterson’s 310 the war of 1812, conflict and deception batteries on the west bank, and the full force of his double attack could be brought to bear against Jackson’s defense. But Pakenham nixed that option by announcing that withdrawing would be as deadly as going forward—a conclusion not borne out in fact. What is beyond doubt is that after the crushing defeat of January 8, the long-sought British claim to the Louisiana Purchase territory could never be laid on any arbitration table. If possession was nine points of the law, the crushing British defeat at New Orleans provided the tenth point. Nor was even the deceiving British claim to the disputed islands in Passamaquoddy Bay successful. On November 25, 1817, the commissioners, created by the terms of the Ghent Treaty, ruled that those small islands belonged to the state of Massachusetts. The War of 1812, in all of its facets, was a bright, glittering, and exciting history that was easily recognized and proclaimed during the first fifty years following its conclusion. Andrew Jackson became a literal legend and was hailed far and wide by the citizens. He was credited as having saved the United States in its second war of independence with Great Britain. Today’s revisionists, mocking that perception, do so at their own professional peril. But the draconian period of Reconstruction following the Civil War served to snuff out the light of the War of 1812, particularly the Battle of New Orleans. The parades and celebrations that honored January 8 in a similar style as the 4th of July came to an end. It is folly and arrogant to conclude that our ancestors of that time had simply gotten the whole story wrong and that the War of 1812 was some kind of sideshow. When Walter Lord’s best-selling book The Dawn’s Early Light can be snobbishly denigrated to be “popular” history, meaning loosely researched and documented (which it is not), it is proper to recognize that the revisionist hijacking of this subject has continued since 1935. These artificial labels are bantered about by elitists and bad historians and are the epitome of parsing. Concocted lists of “best books on the War of 1812” that exclude any work on Andrew Jackson by acclaimed authors are the essence of quibbling. The history of the U.S. military command during the War of 1812 has often been dismissed with the sweeping conclusion that the American military leaders were simply woeful. Certainly some of them were, especially at the beginning, but this blanket proclamation is an indictment of the historians who have avoided meaningful research into the military leadership during the events of 1814. epilogue 311

how can the military leadership have been so bad when the exploits of generals like Brown, Porter, and Gaines, along with Andrew Jackson and John Coffee, rival the best military leadership in American history? And Samuel Smith, John Stricker, and George Armistead brilliantly defended Baltimore and Fort McHenry and stopped the seemingly invincible British Army, fresh from victory at Washington, dead in its tracks. The spectacular sea expeditions under Perry, Porter, Hull, Bainbridge, Decatur, and Macdonough were nothing short of legendary. The reason these military exploits are glossed over is because revisionists have no interest in the thunder of the battlefield that refutes their claims. Revisionism is all about carving out niches. It is all about proclamations and the poor use, or nonuse, of sources. It is all about denial. One hundred and fifty years after the negotiations at Ghent, the clever British negotiating tactics were hardly lost on the Communist negotiators during the Korean and Vietnam Wars. Those negotiating tables, like the one at Ghent, became extensions of the battlefields to be used by the North Koreans, the Chinese, and the North Vietnamese governments to likewise buy time to enhance military operations. The strategy was then, as in 1814, to delay and obfuscate, never to achieve mutual reciprocity. Ironically, modern-day revisionists use the very same tactics used by the British negotiators at Ghent. The British had abandoned reason to bring about deception. Revisionists abandon reason, facts, and logic to bring about a deception of their own. Any reasoning process that is not logical is academically defined as a fallacy.I n addition to proclaiming, parsing, and quibbling, the British effectively used the fallacy called ignoratio elenchi to advance their cause—that is, to argue what is not the thesis. In 1812, the thesis was that impressing, and holding captive, American seamen and seizing neutral American ships was illegal and led to war. But the Crown never addressed that thesis and argued an entirely different subject: British laws gave them the right to impress their own seamen. Impressing their own seamen was not the subject, and was the epitome of ignoratio elenchi. To further argue that illegal impressment was not a cause of the war because it was not addressed in the “cease-fire” proposal of Ghent is also ignoratio elenchi. It is necessary to understand that fallacies such as these are absolutely necessary in the deceptive art of negotiating and presenting flawed arguments. In truth, impressments were addressed, and the Americans agreed to withdraw the issue as an article to the treaty only if 312 the war of 1812, conflict and deception the British agreed that its omission would not affect claims for losses and damages.

madison after the war

H istorian Henry Adams wrote that the end of the War of 1812 produced some surprising and unexpected results. No one would ever have predicted the unbelievable outcome of the war or that the fledgling United States could ever have prevailed over the most powerful of adversaries. “Had a village rustic [farm boy],” wrote Henry Adams, “with one hand tied behind his back, challenged the champion of the prize ring, and in three or four rounds obliged him to draw the stakes, the result would have been little more surprising than the result of the American campaign of 1814.”3 even more remarkable, this incredible victory had been brought about not through the efforts of a united nation, filled with the zeal of patriotism and with its collective shoulder to the wheel, but by a very small number of patriotic citizens who had little support. Many of their fellow citizens actually supported and supplied the enemy, who would have been forced to quit the field without such traitorous American aid. No town of importance, other than Washington, had ever been occupied, and in the end, not one inch of land had been lost or ceded to the enemy. The ports along the Chesapeake that had been blockaded and pillaged for so long, instantly resumed trade and shipping with the utmost vigor. All this had been accomplished with an army that never exceeded 30,000 men, and at no time were more than 4,000 men ever committed to a single action. The army’s entire losses for the war were 1,500 killed and another 3,500 wounded.4 These were the numbers of casualties that the Marine Corps suffered in World War II in the three-day battle to seize the tiny island of Tarawa in the Pacific Ocean. And President James Madison, who had spent years being pilloried by supposed friends and foes alike, emerged from the war as an elder statesman and ended his term in a most agreeable position. The New England states that had supported the British and threatened to secede from the Union unless Mr. Madison’s War was ended were defanged, and their Hartford Convention, to recommend a vote on secession, became a term of ridicule.5 a new Washington was soon rising from the ashes of the British burning, and the Indian terror had been ended. Foreign powers would not goad the Indians to hostility in the future. Impressment and ship seizing had epilogue 313 ended, if not with British apology, at least with mute British acquiescence. And they were never resumed, even with the new threat of a resurrected Napoleon. Madison handed the reins of power to James Monroe, who in- herited a calm, peaceful, and prosperously reinvigorated United States. Would all this have been possible without victory at New Orleans? It is high time for the gallant men of the 1927 Tennessee Commission to be recognized and honored for their steadfast opposition to the folly of revisionism. Their scholarly work to correct bad history will hopefully be brought to fruition in the pages of this present work. In 1934, Judge John H. DeWitt, a member of the commission, wrote: “I do trust . . . that the errors which have so persistently appeared in the histories, particularly school histories, will be duly corrected, so that the fallacy that the Battle of New Orleans was a useless battle and fought after the treaty of peace, will no longer be accepted by anybody, and that truth will be known by all.”6 and what of the nonsensical idea that if the British had won and occupied the city, they would have been required to give it all back in obedi- ence to the Treaty of Ghent? One needs only to recall that it was Napoleon who, in 1813, called the British “PerfidiousA lbion.” Loosely translated, that meant Treacherous England, or Faithless England. The British reputation for underhandedness when dealing with other governments or adversaries was well known to all.7 That perfidy had been amply demonstrated to the United States during the years before and after the Revolution. When the War of 1812 commenced, they were still occupying American land. Only the hopelessly naive could believe and proclaim that they would have given New Orleans back? That thinking has been pragmatically debunked by a former New Or- leans journalist and historian, Thomas Ewing Dabney. “Those who believe this,” he wrote, “should strengthen their case by citing the victorious armies and governments that have surrendered their gains.”8 concerning the most indefensible of all revisionist’s claims, that the British actually won the war, the newspapers of the time offer no such as- suaging illusions. Perhaps the gloomiest evaluation came from the Dublin Evening Post of March 16, 1815: “The American War has closed with unmitigated dishonor for England.” The words of two notable Britons also soundly refute this ill logic. Cap- tain John Henry Cooke thought the Battle of New Orleans might have been won, along with the war, instead of hopelessly lost: “Had all the generals brought their troops into action like Colonel Thornton and Lieutenant 314 the war of 1812, conflict and deception

C olonel Renny, a most brilliant conquest would have crowned the enterprise, would have added new lustre to British arms, and closed this bloody war by a glorious achievement, as worthy of record as it is now unworthy.”9 and Lord Wellington, the Iron Duke, said in his eulogy to Lord Paken- ham: “I cannot but regret that he was ever employed on such a service or with such a colleague [Admiral Alexander Cochrane]. The expedition to New Orleans originated with that colleague and plunder was its object. . . . The Americans were prepared with an army in a fortified position which still would have been carried, if the duties of others, that is of the Admiral had been as well performed as that of he whom we now lament.”10 Appn e dix War Secretary Lord Bathurst’s Letter to Major General Pakenham, October 24, 1814

War Department 24th October 1814

M Genl The Hon Sir T. Pakenham Secret

Sir: It has occurred to me that one case may arise affecting your situation upon the Coasts of America for which the Instructions addressed to the late Major General Ross have not provided. You may possibly hear whilst engaged in active operations that the Pre- liminaries of Peace between His Majesty and the United States have been signed in Europe and that they have been sent to America in order to receive the Ratification of The President. As the Treaty would not be binding until it shall have received such Ratification in which we may be disappointed by the refusal of the Gov- ernment of the United States, it is advisable that Hostilities should not be suspended until you shall have official information that The President has actually ratified the Treaty and a Person will be duly authorized to apprise you of this event. As during this interval, judging from the experience we have had, the termination of the war must be considered as doubtful, you will regulate your proceedings accordingly, neither omitting an opportunity of obtain-

315 316 appendix ing signal success, nor exposing the troops to hazard or serious loss for an inconsiderable advantage. And you will take special care not so to act under the expectation of hearing that the Treaty of Peace has been ratified, as to endanger the safety of His Majesty’s Forces, should that expectation be unhappily disappointed.

I have etc. Bathurst

Bathurst’s original letter to Pakenham, October 24, 1814. Courtesy The National Archives Image Library, UK. Notes

Introduction

1. Quoted in the Napoleon Series, www.napoleon-series.org. 2. Three French agents, code-named X, Y, and Z, were to be the intermediaries for the bribes. 3. Reau E. Folk, Battle of New Orleans, Its Real Meaning: Exposure of Untruth Being Taught Young America (Nashville, TN: Ladies’ Hermitage Association, 1935), p. 5. 4. Theodore Roosevelt, The Naval War of 1812 (New York: Putnam’s, 1900), p. 40. 5. Folk, p. 7. Sentimental history is history presented employing emotion, sympathy, and compassion to try to explain past occurrences instead of letting documented facts speak for themselves. 6. Donald R. Hickey, “The Top Books on the War of 1812,” War of 1812 Magazine, Sep- tember 2007. 7. Stephen Budiansky, Perilous Fight: America’s Intrepid War with Britain on the High Seas, 1812–1815 (New York: Alfred Knopf, 2010), p. 15. 8. Ibid. 9. Ibid. 10. Donald R. Hickey, “Leading Myths of the War of 1812,” War of 1812 Magazine, Sep- tember 2006. 11. Robin Reilly, The British at the Gates (New York: Putnam, 1974), p. 6. 12. “Americans were never again subjected to those dubious maritime practices that had caused the war,” wrote historian Donald R. Hickey in The War of 1812, p. 307. 13. A startled British government actually rescinded the impressment order the day before the war’s declaration, but this was virtually an after-the-fact act rendered meaningless by the long lead time of communication. It was a knee-jerk reaction, because the British never really believed the United States would go to war over the issue, and they now found it necessary to fight a war on two fronts—a grave mistake.I n addition, British sincerity regarding this last-minute rescinding can certainly be questioned, since the British law authorizing impressments remained on the books. 14. Reilly, p. 6.

317 318 notes to pages 11–24

15. Ibid., pp. 6, 20. 16. Ibid., p. 1. 17. Mark Twain, The Mysterious Stranger and Other Stories (Project Gutenberg, 2008), no. 44. 18. Reilly, p. 4. 19. Ibid., pp. 24, 27. 20. Benjamin Franklin’s Poor Richard’s Almanac, 1758. 21. Google book reviews of Hickey, The War of 1812, http://books.google.com/books?id =nchwn1QU5JYC&sitesec=reviews.

Chapter One

1. The land belonged to Spain by virtue of the secret Treaty of Fontainebleau of 1762, by which France ceded the whole of Louisiana, east and west of the Mississippi. But France still acted as if the territory was hers, and the truth of the arrangement was not revealed until 1764. 2. “A Century of Lawmaking for a New Nation: U.S. Congressional Documents and Debates, 1774–1875,” American State Papers, 7th Congress, 2nd session, Foreign Relations, vol. 2, p. 510. 3. Treaty of San Lorenzo/Pinckney’s Treaty, 1795, U.S. Department of State, Office of the Historian, http://history.state.gov/milestones/1784–1800/PickneyTreaty. The treaty also turned over all the Spanish forts on the east bank of the Mississippi to the United States. 4. American State Papers, House of Representatives, 7th Congress, 2nd session, Foreign Relations, vol. 2, pp. 470, 469 (quote on 470). 5. Ibid., pp. 470, 471. 6. American State Papers, Senate, 7th Congress, 2nd session, Foreign Relations, vol. 2, p. 510. 7. Ibid., p. 481. 8. Annals of Congress, House of Representatives, 7th Congress, 2nd session, pp. 373–74. 9. Ibid. 10. Ibid., p. 1011. 11. Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th ed., s.v. “Lord Hawkesbury.” 12. Annals of Congress, House of Representatives, 7th Congress, 2nd session, p. 1012. 13. Ibid. 14. Ibid., p. 1013. 15. Ibid., p. 1015. 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid., p. 1017. 18. Ibid., p. 1018. 19. Ibid. 20. “XYZ Affair,” Thomas Jefferson Encyclopedia, www.monticello.org/. 21. Ibid. 22. Ibid. notes to pages 25–34 319

23. Henry Adams, History of the United States during the First Administration of Thomas Jefferson (New York: Scribner, 1889), pt. 1, chap. 14, p. 358. 24. “XYZ Affair.” 25. Adams, History during First Administration of Jefferson, pt. 1, chap. 14, pp. 356, 353, 356. 26. Ibid., p. 357. 27. Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th ed., s.v. “Treaty of San Ildefonso, 1800.” The word “Infant” simply refers to his son, who was grown and married at this time. 28. Adams, History during First Administration of Jefferson, pt. 1, chap. 14, p. 357. 29. Ibid., chap. 15, p. 379. 30. Elizabeth Sullivan-Hollerman and Isabel Hillery Cobb, The Saint Domingue Epic (Bay St. Louis, MS: Nightingale Press, 1984), p. 74. 31. Ibid., p. 75. 32. T. Lothrop Stoddard, The French Revolution in San Domingo (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1914), p. 35. 33. Sullivan-Hollerman and Cobb, p. 259. 34. Adams, History during First Administration of Jefferson, pt. 1, chap. 15, pp. 381–84, quote on 382. The safety L’Ouverture offered was fleeting and became an illusion, since the entire white population was eventually annihilated and the mulatto population either mas- sacred, subjugated, or driven from the island during the twelve-year revolt from 1791 to 1804. 35. Ibid., p. 387. 36. Ibid., pp. 392–93. 37. Stoddard, p. 308, quote on 316. 38. Ibid., p. 321. 39. Ibid., p. 323, quote on 327. 40. Ibid., p. 329 (quote here); Adams, History during First Administration of Jefferson, pt. 1, chap. 15, pp. 394–96. 41. Adams, History during First Administration of Jefferson, pt. 1, chap. 15, p. 409. 42. Livingston to the secretary of state, February 26, 1802, American State Papers, 7th Congress, 2nd session, Foreign Relations, vol. 2, p. 513. 43. Livingston to Madison, February 26, March 24, 1802, ibid., pp. 513–15. 44. Livingston to King, March 10, 1802; to Madison, April 24, 1802, ibid., p. 515. 45. Madison to Pinckney, March 30, 1802; to Livingston, May 1, 1802, ibid., pp. 515–16. 46. Jefferson to Livingston, April 18, 1802, quoted in Adams, History during First Ad- ministration of Jefferson, pt. 1, chap. 16, p. 411. 47. Ibid., p. 399. 48. Ibid., p. 338. 49. Adams, History during First Administration of Jefferson, pt. 2, chap. 1, pp. 19–20. 50. Ibid., pt. 1, chap. 14, p. 357. 51. American State Papers, 7th Congress, 2nd session, Foreign Relations, vol. 2, p. 549. 52. Madison to Livingston and Monroe, ibid., p. 540. 53. The French government had no authority to sell any part of the Floridas, since Spain owned the land and it had not been a part of the original cession of Louisiana to Spain in 1762; therefore France could not be part of the retrocession. 320 notes to pages 34–46

54. Adams, History during First Administration of Jefferson, pt. 1, chap. 17, p. 442. 55. Ibid., p. 555. 56. Quoted in James G. Blaine, Twenty Years of Congress: From Lincoln to Garfield (Norwich, CT: Henry Hill, 1884), vol. 1, pp. 5–6. 57. Quoted in Adams, History during First Administration of Jefferson, pt. 2, chap. 2, pp. 26–27. 58. Ibid.

Chapter Two

1. Adams to Jay, July 19, August 6, 1785, quoted in Frank A. Updyke, The Diplomacy of the War of 1812 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1915), pp. 1–2. 2. Quoted in Dumas Malone, Jefferson and the Rights of Man (Boston: Little, Brown, 1951), p. 185. 3. Stanley Loomis, Paris in the Terror (New York: J. B. Lippincott, 1964), pp. 68–69. 4. Ibid., pp. 46–47, 76. The police force was officially called the Committee for the Sur- veillance of the Commune. 5. Ibid., p. 43. 6. T. C. W. Blanning, The French Revolutionary Wars, 1787–1802 (London: Hodder Educational, 1996). 7. Britain never recognized the right of a subject to change allegiance. A subject of the Crown was always a subject of the Crown. 8. Information Sheet No. 78, Royal Naval Museum Library, Portsmouth, England, 2001. 9. Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th edition, s.v. “Capital Punishment,” “Impressment,” and “Theatre.” “Bearward” is an arcane term identifying a keeper of bears. Trained bears were routinely found in traveling minstrel shows. 10. Quoted in Gordon C. Cook, Disease in the Merchant Navy: A History of the Seamen’s Hospital Society (London: Radcliff Medical Press, 2008), p. 34. 11. Ibid., p. 35. 12. George C. Daughan, 1812: The Navy’s War (New York: Basic Books, 2011), p. 18. 13. Royal Naval Museum, Portsmouth, England. 14. American State Papers, Senate, 2nd Congress, 1st session, Foreign Relations, vol. 1, p. 131. 15. Ibid. 16. Ibid., p. 132. 17. American State Papers, House of Representatives, 6th Congress, 1st session, Foreign Relations, vol. 2, p. 270. 18. Ibid. 19. Ibid. 20. Elder James White, ed., The Early Life and Later Experiences and Labors of Elder Joseph Bates (Battle Creek, MI: Steam Press of the Seventh Day Adventist, 1877), chap. 1. 21. Ibid., chap. 2. notes to pages 46–55 321

22. Ibid., chap. 6. 23. Reilly, p. 20. 24. Quoted in Benson J. Lossing, Pictorial Field-Book of the War of 1812 (New York: Harper, 1868), chap. 7. “Tar” is a nickname for a seaman. 25. Quoted in ibid., chap. 7, note 42. 26. Thomas Pickering, secretary of state, to Rufus King, minister at the Court of London, September 10, October 26, 1796, quoted in Lossing, chap. 7. 27. Quoted in Lossing, chap. 7. 28. Ibid. 29. Lossing, chap. 8. 30. Daughan, p. 14. 31. The “shot heard round the world” refers to the opening military engagement of the Revolutionary War at Lexington and Concord. 32. “Prelude to the War of 1812: The Chesapeake Affair of 1807,” 2000, Mariners Mu- seum, www.marinersmuseum.org/sites/micro/usnavy/08/08b.htm. 33. Brian Lavery, Nelson’s Navy: The Ships, Men, and Organization (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 2004), p. 49. 34. N.A.M. Rodger, The Command of the Ocean: A Naval History of Britain, 1649–1815 (London” Norton, 2004), pp. 522–24.

Chapter Three

1. Quoted in Henry Adams, History of the United States of America during the Second Administration of Thomas Jefferson, 1805–1809 (New York: Scribner’s, 1921), p. 92. 2. Ibid., p. 199. 3. London Gazette, February 15, 1812, p. 7. 4. Adams, History during Second Administration of Jefferson, p. 199. 5. In that greatest of all British naval victories, impressed American seamen were forced to fight, and those killed were buried at sea. Ibid., p. 202. It was Congressman John Ran- dolph who called Britain the “Leviathan of the Deep,” during the House debates on British blockading of ships. 6. Quoted in ibid., p. 84. 7. Ibid., p. 125. 8. “Draft of Proclamation concerning ‘Leander,’” in Thomas Jefferson, New York, 1904– 05, in Correspondence and Papers, 1803–1807 [1905], ed. Paul Leicester Ford, federal ed. (London: Putnam’s, 1904–5). 9. “May 3, 1806, Henry Whitby Proclamation,” in The Thomas Jefferson Papers, Library of Congress. 10. Ibid. 11. Adams, History during Second Administration of Jefferson, p. 211. 12. Quoted in Adams, History during First Administration of Jefferson, pt. 2, chap. 17, “Jefferson’s Enemies.” 322 notes to pages 56–65

13. Adams, History during Second Administration of Jefferson, p. 282. 14. In 1806, when Charles Fox became the new British foreign secretary, he found the whole affair to be treasonous and recalled Merry to Britain, but by that time Burr’s plan was in doubt. 15. Thomas Jefferson to U.S. minister to France, April 18, 1802, www.presidentprofiles .com/Washington-Johnson/Thomas-Jefferson-Louisiana-purchase.html#ixzz2QyDos03Y. 16. American State Papers, House of Representatives, 10th Congress, 1st session, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, pp. 8–9. 17. Ibid. 18. Ibid. 19. Albert Bushnell Hart, ed., American History Told by Contemporaries, vol. 3, Building of the Republic (New York: Macmillan, 1901), pp. 396–400. 20. Ibid. 21. “Documents on the Capture of the Chesapeake by the Leopard (1807) by Commodore James Barron,” in ibid., pp. 396–400; American State Papers, House of Representatives, 10th Congress, 1st session, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 18. 22. Ibid., p. 21. 23. Ibid. 24. John Wilson, The Trial of John Wilson, alias Jenkin Ratford for Mutiny, Desertion, and Contempt (Boston: Snelling and Simons, 1807), pp. 7 (quote), 4. 25. Ibid., pp. 6, 7. 26. American State Papers, House of Representatives, 10th Congress, 1st session, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, pp. 16–17. 27. Ibid., p. 17. 28. Ibid., p. 12. 29. Ibid. 30. Ibid., p. 22. 31. Ibid., p. 18. 32. Ibid. 33. “An Extract of a Letter from a Gentleman on Board His Majesty’s Ship Leopard, Dated Chesapeake Bay, June 24, 1807,” Navy Department Library, Naval History and Heri- tage Command, www.history.navy.mil/library/online/leopard1807.htm. 34. Ibid. 35. Ibid. 36. Wilson, p. 10. 37. American State Papers, House of Representatives, 10th Congress, 1st session, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 23. 38. The three dead Americans were John Lawrence, James Arnold, and John Shakely. 39. American State Papers, House of Representatives, 10th Congress, 1st session, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 22. 40. Ibid. 41. Ibid., p. 20. 42. Ibid. 43. Ibid., p. 21. notes to pages 65–77 323

44. Quoted in “Correspondence between Captain Douglas, of His Majesty’s Ship Bellona, and the Mayor of Norfolk in America,” Navy Department Library, www.history.navy.mil/ library/online/leopard1807.htm. 45. American State Papers, House of Representatives, 10th Congress, 1st session, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 21. “Bring to” is a naval term meaning to stop a ship, or “turn it into the wind.” 46. Ibid., p. 9. 47. Ibid., p. 10. 48. “Proclamation in Response to the Chesapeake Affair (July 2, 1807),” Thomas Jeffer- son Papers, Miller Center, University of Virginia; American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, pp. 23–24. 49. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, pp. 183–85. 50. Ibid., p. 187. 51. Ibid., pp. 183–85. 52. Ibid., p. 188. 53. Wilson, pp. 23, 20. 54. Ibid., pp. 18–19. 55. Ibid., p. 23.

Chapter Four

1. Representative Robert Wright of Maryland, quoted in Reilly, p. 52. 2. Updyke, p. 1. 3. Reilly, p. 27. 4. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, pp. 183–85. 5. Canning to Monroe, September 23, 1807, in ibid., p. 200. 6. Ibid. 7. Ibid., p. 137. This “difficulty” on impressments had doomed a proposed 1806 treaty on trade. Jefferson had refused any treaty that did not deal with impressments. 8. Rose to Madison, January 26, 1808, in ibid., p. 213. 9. Ibid. 10. Ibid., p. 214. 11. Ibid. 12. Ibid. 13. Ibid., p. 215. 14. Ibid., p. 217. 15. Updyke, p. 50. 16. Zachary F. Smith, The Battle of New Orleans (Louisville, KY: John P. Morton, 1904), p. ix; Department of the Navy—Naval History & Heritage Command, www.history.navy.mil/ danfs/c7/chesapeake-i.htm. 17. Exports fell from $108 million in 1807 to $22 million in 1808. 18. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 221. 19. Ibid., p. 299. 324 notes to pages 77–91

20. Ibid. 21. Ibid. 22. Ibid., p. 301. 23. Ibid., p. 295. 24. Ibid., p. 306. 25. Ibid., p. 296. 26. Ibid., p. 297. 27. Ibid., p. 301; Reilly, p. 29. 28. Adams, History during First Administration of Jefferson, pt. 1, chap. 14, p. 362. 29. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 322. 30. Ibid., p. 299. 31. Updyke, p. 52. 32. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 308. 33. Ibid. 34. Ibid. 35. Ibid., p. 310. 36. Ibid., p. 311. 37. Ibid., p. 317. 38. Ibid., p. 321. 39. Ibid., p. 319. 40. Ibid., p. 414. 41. Ibid. 42. Updyke, p. 54. 43. Daughan, p. 26. 44. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, pp. 479, 497 (quotes). 45. Ibid., p. 488. 46. Ibid. 47. Ibid., p. 476; Howell account in Annals of Congress, House of Representatives, 12th Congress, 1st session, p. 465. 48. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, pp. 496–97. 49. Ibid., pp. 476, 477. 50. In 1811 George IV became the prince regent to act on behalf of his mentally ill father, the king, George III. 51. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 499. 52. Ibid., p. 500. 53. Ibid. 54. Daughan, p. 29. 55. Quoted in ibid., pp. 26–27. Spencer Perceval served as prime minister from October 4, 1809, until May 11, 1812. 56. Annals of Congress, House of Representatives, 12th Congress, 1st session, p. 425. 57. Ibid. 58. Ibid., pp. 473, 422, 454, 444–45. 59. Ibid., pp. 444–44. 60. Quoted in Robert A. Powell, Kentucky Governors (Danville, KY: Bluegrass, 1976), p. 28. notes to pages 91–100 325

61. Annals of Congress, House of Representatives, 12th Congress, 1st session, pp. 484–85. 62. Ibid., pp. 485–86. 63. Ibid., pp. 545–46. The number of troops to be raised was increased to 35,000. 64. Reilly, pp. 51, 55. 65. Annals of Congress, House of Representatives, 12th Congress, 1st session, pp. 564–65. 66. The New England states and the federalist politicians openly and defiantly opposed what they called “Mr. Madison’s War,” and some refused to allow the call-up of their militia to serve in the war effort. But they seemed to have no such inhibitions to fighting in that war for profit; Massachusetts, Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Rhode Island furnished half of the American privateers and vessels with letters of marque that would wreak havoc upon British navy and merchant fleets. Daughan, p. 124. 67. Reilly, p. 6; Hickey, The War of 1812, p. 1; Timothy Pickles, New Orleans 1815: Andrew Jackson Crushes the British (London: Praeger, 2004), p. 7. 68. William S. Dudley, ed., The Naval War of 1812: A Documentary History (Washington, DC: Naval Historical Center, Department of the Navy, 1985), vol. 1, p. 190.

Chapter Five

1. Dudley, vol. 1, pp. 16, 12. 2. Ibid., p. 14. 3. Ibid., p. 15 (Jefferson’s message to Congress, February 10, 1807). 4. Ibid., p. 83. 5. Ibid., p. 118. 6. Ibid., p. 119. 7. Ibid. p. 123. 8. Ibid., pp. 148–49. 9. American State Papers, Senate, 12th Congress, 1st session, Indian Affairs, vol. 1, p. 806. 10. Ibid. 11. Ibid., p. 808. 12. Ibid., p. 801. 13. Ibid., p. 798. 14. Ibid., p. 800. 15. “Tecumseh to Governor Harrison at Vincennes,” August 12, 1810, National Center for Public Policy Research, www.nationalcenter.org/Tecumseh.html. 16. Quoted in Robert M. Owens, Mr. Jefferson’s Hammer: William Henry Harrison and the Origins of American Indian Policy (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2007), p. 218. 17. Quoted in Wallace A. Brice, History of Fort Wayne (Fort Wayne, IN: D. W. Jones, 1868), p. 197. 18. Upper Canada, which is actually south of Lower Canada, is the land to the north of the Great Lakes and especially the peninsula wedged between Lakes Huron, Erie, and Ontario, close to the U.S. mainland. 19. The British forces had been alerted to war fully five days before Hull was and had begun preparations. An unknowing Hull sent a boat with most of his stores, his tools, and 326 notes to pages 100–110 his sick in advance of his march to Detroit, and the British captured the boat, greatly handi- capping Hull. 20. William Hull, Memoirs of the Campaign of the North Western Army of the United States, A.D. 1812 (Boston: True & Greene, 1824), pp. 8, 35. 21. Ibid., p. 40. 22. Ibid., pp. 35, 40. 23. Ibid., p. 40. 24. Ibid. 25. Ibid. 26. Ibid., p. 11. 27. Brice, p. 205. 28. Dudley, vol. 1, p. 294. 29. Roosevelt, p. 11. 30. American State Papers, 12th Congress, 2nd session, Foreign Relations, vol. 1, p. 80. 31. In addition to a small force of local Indians acting as their security, there were 54 soldiers, 12 militia, 9 women, and 18 children. 32. Brice, p. 209. 33. War of 1812, www.galafilm.com/1812/e/events/ftdearborn.html. 34. U.S. Army, Trial of Gen. William Hull, for Cowardice, Neglect of Duty, and Unofficer- like Conduct, with the Sentence of the Court, and Remission Thereof by the President of the United States (Boston: Russell, Cutler, 1814), p. 27. 35. American State Papers, 12th Congress, 2nd session, Foreign Relations, vol. 1, p. 80. 36. Dudley, vol. 1, p. 208. 37. Ibid., p. 232. 38. Ibid., p. 238. 39. “Wore” means to turn the head of a vessel away from the wind. 40. Ibid., p. 240. 41. “Pounds” refers to the weight of the cannonball fired from the gun. 42. Dudley, vol. 1, p. 243. 43. Ibid., p. 240. 44. Ibid. 45. Ibid., p. 246. 46. Ibid., p. 241. 47. Ibid., p. 443. 48. Ibid., p. 444. 49. Ibid. 50. Ibid. 51. James T. De Kay, Chronicles of the Frigate Macedonian, 1809–1922 (New York: Nor- ton, 1995), p. 72. 52. Ibid., p. 74. 53. Dudley, vol. 1, p. 549. “The board” is the deck. 54. Ibid., p. 553. 55. Ibid., p. 552. notes to pages 110–124 327

56. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 589. The supposed repeal of the Orders in Council by the British on June 23, just after America declared war, was a sham repeal; and a close examination of the wording of the document revealed a proviso that could nullify it at any time. An actual repeal would have had to be stipulated to by the admiral at Halifax, a fact not overlooked by the American minister to Britain, Jonathan Russell, who painfully reminded the Crown that it was a flawed repeal. 57. Ibid. 58. Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol. 7, pp. 17–18. 59. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 591. 60. Ibid. 61. Ibid. 62. Ibid. 63. Ibid., p. 594. 64. Ibid. 65. Castlereagh to Cathcart, in William Vane, ed., Correspondence, Dispatches, and Other Papers of Viscount Castlereagh (London: William Shoberl, 1852), vol. 9, p. 35. 66. Ibid., p. 19. 67. Ibid. 68. Ibid., pp. 19–20. 69. Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol. 7, p. 2. 70. Ibid., p. 6. 71. Ibid., p. 12. 72. Ibid., p. 16. 73. Ibid. 74. James Fenimore Cooper, History of the Navy of the United States of America, (New York: G. P. Putnam, 1853), vol. 2, p. 245. 75. Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol. 7, pp. 5–13. 76. Ibid., p. 24.

Chapter Six

1. Dudley, vol. 1, p. 471. 2. Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol. 7, p. 77. 3. Ibid., p. 79. 4. Ibid., pp. 78–79, 80. 5. Alexander Clark Casselman, Richardson’s War of 1812 (Toronto: Historical, 1902), p. 140. 6. Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol. 7, p. 77. 7. Ibid., pp. 105–6. 8. Ibid., p. 115. 9. Ibid., p. 116. 10. Ibid., pp. 146–47. 328 notes to pages 124–135

11. Ibid., p. 152. 12. Lossing, chap. 24. 13. Dudley, vol. 2, p. 465. 14. Lossing, chap. 31. Most likely he was referring to the telltale marking of a witch: a blue “dead nip” on the skin. 15. Ibid., note 10. 16. Ibid., chap. 31. 17. Roosevelt, p. 223. 18. Lossing, chap. 31. 19. Ibid. 20. Dudley, vol. 2, p. 128. 21. Ibid. 22. Lossing, chap. 31. 23. Ibid. 24. Dudley, vol. 2, p. 134. 25. Theodore Roosevelt reported that Chesapeake was struck with 362 shots while delivering only 158. Casualty figures are in proportion to those numbers. 26. Lossing, chap. 31, note 23. 27. Ibid. 28. Roosevelt, p. 233. 29. Ibid., p. 481. The British fleet, with the numbers of guns on each: Queen Charlotte (18), Lady Prevost (12), Detroit (20), Hunter (6), Erie (2), Little Belt (2). 30. Cooper, vol. 2, pp. 187–88. 31. Dudley, vol. 2, p. 543; Roosevelt, p. 306. 32. Dudley, vol. 2, p. 545. 33. Ibid., p. 405. 34. These included Lawrence, Niagara, Caledonia, Ariel, Scorpion, Somers, Tigress, and Porcupine. 35. Dudley, vol. 2, p. 546. 36. Ibid., p. 549. 37. Lossing, chap. 24. 38. Dudley, vol. 2, p. 549. 39. Ibid. 40. Ibid. 41. Ibid. 42. Ibid., p. 569. 43. Ibid., p. 574. 44. Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol. 7, p. 141. 45. Lossing, chap. 7, note 3. Talleyrand’s comments on Napoleon’s thoughts on this tactic for Louisiana conquest were briefly published in a pamphlet in Philadelphia in 1803 but quickly suppressed, as negotiations for the Louisiana Purchase moved forward, but its message was not lost on the British. In 1812, as the war began, British writers cited Napoleon’s ideas as the action that the British government should employ in its new war in America. notes to pages 135–144 329

46. Ibid., p. 623. 47. Dudley, vol. 2, p. 167.

Chapter Seven

1. Albert J. Pickett, History of Alabama (Charleston: Walker & James, 1851), vol. 2, p. 275. 2. Ibid., p. 269. 3. Ibid., p. 275. 4. Ibid., pp. 288–90. 5. Henry Adams, History of the United States during the Second Administration of James Madison (New York: Scribner, 1889–91), vol.7, p. 235. 6. Robert V. Remini, The Battle of New Orleans (New York: Penguin, 1999), pp. 11–12. 7. Ibid. 8. Jackson to Blount, American State Papers, Senate, 13th Congress, 3rd session, Indian Affairs, vol. 1, p. 850. 9. Ibid. 10. Adams, History during Second Administration of Madison, p. 234. 11. Quoted in Robert V. Remini, Andrew Jackson and the Course of American Empire, 1767–1821 (New York: Harper & Row, 1977), p. 188. 12. American State Papers, Senate, 13th Congress, 3rd session, Indian Affairs, vol. 2, p. 851, 852 (quote). 13. Ibid. p. 854. 14. Adams, History during Second Administration of Madison, pp. 239–40. 15. Ibid., pp. 247–48. 16. Ibid., p. 252. 17. Updyke, pp. 165–66. 18. Madison to Congress, January 7, 1814, in American State Papers, 13th Congress, 2nd session, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 621. 19. “Political Miscellany,” Boston Weekly Messenger, Friday, January 14, 1814, front page. 20. “Peace,” ibid. 21. “Important Documents,” ibid., p. 2. 22. Charles Francis Adams, ed., The Memoirs of John Quincy Adams: Comprising Por- tions of His Diary from 1795 to 1838 (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, 1874), vol. 2, p. 402 (quote here); F. A. Golder, “The Russian Offer of Mediation in the War of 1812,” Political Science Quarterly 31, no. 3 (1916), http://archive.org/stream/jstor-2141651/2141651#page/ n0/mode/2up. 23. Golder, “Russian Offer.” 24. Lord Liverpool was Robert Banks Jenkinson, whose 1812–27 administration was the longest of the nineteenth century. 25. Adams, Memoirs of John Quincy Adams, vol. 3, p. 474. 26. Ibid., vol. 2, pp. 400, 474. 330 notes to pages 144–155

27. Ibid., note referring to the Archives of Ministry of Foreign Affairs “Londres” 1813, No. 177. 28. Quoted in Updyke, pp. 180–81. 29. Adams, Memoirs of John Quincy Adams, vol. 3, p. 509. 30. American State Papers, 13th Congress, 2nd session, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 621. 31. Ibid., p. 622. 32. Ibid., pp. 215, 254. 33. Harold D. Moser et al. The Papers of Andrew Jackson, vol. 3, 1814–1815, pp. 52–53. 34. Ibid. 35. Adams, History during Second Administration of Madison, p. 255. 36. Pickett, vol. 2, pp. 342–43. 37. Remini, Andrew Jackson, p. 215. 38. Quoted in Adams, History during Second Administration of Madison, p. 256; Papers of Andrew Jackson, p. 53. 39. Quoted in Remini, Andrew Jackson, p. 217. 40. Pickett, vol. 2, pp. 347–48. 41. Ibid., pp. 353–54. 42. Quoted in Richard W. Stewart, ed., American Military History, vol. 1, The United States Army and the Forging of a Nation, 1775–1917 (Washington, DC: Center of Military History, 2005) chap. 6, p. 147. 43. Ibid., June 23, 2013. 44. Lossing, p. 675; quote in Paul Clancy, “Our Stories by Paul Clancy,” Norfolk-Ports- mouth Virginia Pilot, June 16, 2013. 45. Stewart, p. 146. 46. Lossing, pp. 678–80. 47. Quoted in Clancy, June 23, 2013. 48. William Napier, The Life and Opinions of General Sir Charles Napier, G.C.B, vol. 1 (London: John Murray, 1857), p. 217. 49. This was a sort of French Foreign Legion, supposedly made up of French monarchists aligned against Napoleon, but its ranks were mostly filled with escapees, deserters, and former prisoners. 50. Lossing, pp. 681–83. 51. Ibid., pp. 683–84, note 2. 52. Napier, p. 222. 53. It is a strange use of the words “our waters,” because they were not British waters. Were the commissioners reflecting a sentimental longing for days gone by, or revealing what they hoped the war would return to them? 54. Lossing, p. 684. 55. Ibid. British common law recognized the principle of lex talion, the law of retaliation, roughly equal to the principle of “an eye for an eye.” A person who injures another is meted out an exact punishment. But this law is to be applied in courts of law, not by vigilantes. Lex talion means a retaliation authorized by law. 56. Ibid., note 1. notes to pages 155–165 331

57. Ibid., p. 680, note 2. 58. John Lewis Thomson, Historical Sketches of the Late War between the United States and Great Britain, 5th ed. (Philadelphia: Thomas Desilver, 1818), p. 216. 59. Lossing, pp. 688–90. 60. Thomson, p. 344. 61. Ibid., p. 345. 62. The Americans did not get wind of this British plan until the second week of Sep- tember 1814. 63. Quoted in Alexander Walker, Jackson and New Orleans (New York: J. C. Derby, 1856), p. 58. 64. Adams, History during First Administration of Jefferson, pt. 1, chap. 14, p. 357. 65. Stewart, chap. 6, p. 149. Although the river’s name is often spelled “Chippewa,” the correct spelling is “Chippawa.” 66. Major General George Izard commanded the Right Division, which was responsible for the Lake Champlain region. 67. Stewart, chap. 6, p. 149. 68. The British had 2,100 men under the command of Major General Phineas Riall. 69. Quoted in Matthew J. Seelinger, “Those Are Regulars by God: The Battle of Chip- pewa, 1814,” National Museum, United States Army, https://armyhistory.org/09/those-are- regulars-by-god-the-battle-of-chippewa-1814/. 70. Ibid. Today, in honor of the gray uniforms worn in the victory at Chippawa, gray uniforms are worn by cadets of the Military Academy at West Point, and the Sixth and Twenty-Second Infantry Regiments claim the motto “Regulars by God.” 71. Ibid. 72. Stewart, p. 150. 73. Ibid. 74. Donald E. Graves, The Battle of Lundy’s Lane: On the Niagara in 1814 (Baltimore: Nautical & Aviation, 1993), pp. 138–41. 75. Ibid., p. 145. 76. Quoted in John R. Elting, Amateurs to Arms! A Military History of the War of 1812 (New York: Da Capo Press, 1995), pp. 179–80. 77. The battle took place within a mile of the great falls. 78. Porter to Thompkins, Fort Erie, July 29, 1814, Niagara Falls History Museum, www .niagarafallsmuseums.ca. 79. Niagara Falls History Museum. 80. Lossing, p. 829. 81. At this very time, far to the south, General Jackson sealed the treaty marking the capitulation of the Creek Indians and the end of the Creek War. He then occupied Mobile. 82. Lossing, pp. 829–30. 83. Ernest Cruikshank, The Siege of Fort Erie: August 1st–September 23rd 1814 (Welland, ON: Lundy’s Lane Historical Society, 1905), p. 22. 84. Quoted in Lossing, pp. 834–35. 85. Cruikshank, p. 24. 86. Lossing, p. 835. 332 notes to pages 165–175

87. Ibid. p. 836. 88. Quoted in Ibid., p. 837, note 3. 89. Ibid., note 2. 90. Quoted in Ibid. 91. Quoted in Cruikshank, p. 9. 92. Lossing, p. 837. 93. Despite his opposition to the plan, General Ripley led the reserves into action against the British position and was severely wounded. 94. Lossing, p. 840. 95. Quoted in ibid.

Chapter Eight

1. Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol. 7, p. 355. 2. Updyke, pp. 186–87. 3. In January 1814, President Madison had swiftly nominated John Quincy Adams, James Bayard, Henry Clay, and Jonathan Russell as envoys extraordinary and ministers plenipotentiary of the United States. On February 8, when he learned that Albert Gallatin was still in Europe, he added him as the fifth member of the team. 4. Updyke, pp. 189–92. 5. Adams, Memoirs of John Quincy Adams, vol. 2, pp. 643–52. 6. Updyke, p. 191. 7. Adams, Memoirs of John Quincy Adams, vol. 3, p. 51. 8. Quoted in Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol.7, p. 358. 9. Referring to the Louisiana Purchase, not to be confused with the Monroe Doctrine, which was not introduced until 1823. 10. London Times, May 17, 1814. This too refers to East and West Florida, land vital to passage to the Gulf of Mexico. 11. Walter Sheppe, editor, First Man West: Alexander Mackenzie’s Journal of His Voyage to the Pacific Coast of Canada in 1793 (London: Cambridge University Press, 1962), p. 239. 12. Ibid., p. 42. 13. Quoted in Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol. 7, p. 359. 14. American State Papers, Senate, 13th Congress, 2nd session, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 635. 15. Ibid. 16. Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol. 7, p. 362. 17. American State Papers, Senate, 13th Congress, 2nd session, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 634. 18. Ibid., p. 602. 19. Lossing, p. 857. 20. Torrens to Murray, April 14, 1814, Duke of Wellington, ed., Supplementary Des- patches and Memoranda of Field Marshal the Duke of Wellington (London: John Murray, 1862), vol. 9, p. 58. 21. Quoted in London Times, March 20, 1813. notes to pages 176–183 333

22. Quoted in Ibid., February 19, 1813. 23. The campaign season before the onset of winter. 24. Bathurst to Prevost, June 3, 1814, National Archives, Kew, England, CO 43/23: 153. This order for “offensive” action has caused a modern-day Canadian historian to attempt a revision of its meaning. He proclaimed that Bathurst’s order was only a “hint” at offensive operations, and “not true.” Citing the tasks included in Bathurst’s orders as evidence that the British were “thinking in more limited terms,” and were only trying to secure the Canadian border, he completely ignores that these were initial orders to achieve intermediate objectives. There is a progression of events necessary prior to launching any major offensive. Bathurst’s words were forceful, specific, and anything but “hints.” The author is perhaps unaware of, or ignores, the military necessities before an attack can be launched. The attacker must first secure his forward supply base, sweep the enemy from the seas, and occupy an advantageous point from which to launch the attack. This is exactly what Bathurst ordered; and it was to be in conjunction with the initiation of an almost simultaneous “offensive” attack against targets in the Chesapeake Bay area. Nothing about the order was “defensive.” John R. Grodzinski, “Sir George Prevost: Defender of Canada in the War of 1812,” War of 1812 Magazine, no. 18 (June 2012). 25. Compare Prevost’s orders to those received by Eisenhower in World War II: “You will enter the continent of Europe and . . . undertake operations aimed at the heart of Germany, and the destruction of her armed forces.” Roosevelt did not presume to tell him how to do it. 26. Wellington to Bathurst, February 22, 1814, in Gurwood, comp., The Dispatches of Field Marshall the Duke of Wellington, during His Various Campaigns (London: John Mur- ray, 1838), vol. 11, pp. 525–26. 27. Quoted in Walter Lord, The Dawn’s Early Light (New York: W. W. Norton, 1972), p. 44. 28. Michael J. Crawford, ed., The Naval War of 1812: A Documentary History, vol. 3 (Washington, DC: Naval Historical Center, Department of the Navy, 2002), p. 131. 29. Lossing, p. 917; quote on p. 918, note 1. 30. Ibid., p. 920. 31. Stanhope Lovell, Personal Narrative of Events, from 1799 to 1815 (London: Wm. Allen, 1879), p. 151. 32. Powder fuses. 33. Quoted in “The Chesapeake Flotilla and Joshua Barney,” www.pgparks.com/War_ of_1812/History/The_Chesapeake_Flotilla_and_Joshua_Barney.htm. 34. Quoted in Anthony S. Pitch, The Burning of Washington: The British Invasion of 1814 (Annapolis, MD: Naval Institute Press, 1998), p. 55. 35. Ibid., p. 56. 36. Quoted in Lossing, p. 923. 37. Lossing, pp. 928–32. 38. Ibid., pp. 931–32. 39. Quoted in Pitch, 86. 40. Quoted in Lossing, p. 935, note 3. 41. Ibid., pp. 935–36. 42. Ibid., p. 933. 334 notes to pages 183–192

43. George R. Gleig, A Narrative of the Campaigns of the British Army at Washington and New Orleans under Generals Ross, Pakenham, and Lambert in the Years 1814 and 1815 (London: John Murray, 1824), p. 127. 44. G. C. Moore Smith, ed., The Autobiography of Lieutenant-General Sir Harry Smith (London: John Murray, 1902), vol. 1, p. 200. 45. Ibid. 46. Lord, p. 184. 47. Gleig, Narrative, p. 140. 48. Ibid., p. 143. 49. Daughan, p. 304. 50. Quoted in Lord, p. 213. 51. Ibid., pp. 206–7. 52. Dudley, vol. 3, p. 226. 53. Fife House was for the prime minister’s parliamentary session and official entertainment. 54. Wellington, Supplementary Despatches, p. 290. 55. Ibid. 56. Allan S. Everest, The War of 1812 in the Champlain Valley (New York: Syracuse University Press, 1981), p. 167. The force was greatly diminished, and Macomb most likely fielded just over 2,000, since some of his men had been assigned to the ships of the navy or were otherwise unavailable. 57. Thomas Dobson, Official Correspondence with the Department fo War, Relative to the Military Operations of the American Army under the command of Major General Izard of the Northern Frontier of the United States in the Years 1814 and 1815 (Philadelphia: Thomas Dobson, 1816), p. 57. 58. Ibid. 59. Quoted in Everest, p. 157. 60. Lossing, pp. 861–62. 61. Ibid., p. 864. 62. Quoted in ibid., p. 870. 63. Ibid., pp. 866–70. 64. Quoted in ibid., p. 871, note 2. 65. Compare similar tactics used by Britain and the United States in World War II and by the Union against the Confederacy, especially late in the war by General Sherman. But civilian casualties of that sort should always be unavoidable consequences in carrying a war to the homeland, not the individual targeting and destruction of the innocent. Cockburn’s burning of the public buildings of Washington falls within the rules of war, but the wanton destruction and rape of the innocent at Hampton does not. 66. Quoted in Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol. 3, p. 6. 67. Vane, Correspondence of Castlereagh, vol. 2, 1853, p. 69. 68. Ibid. 69. Ibid. 70. Ibid., p. 70. notes to pages 192–199 335

71. Revisionist historians have often proclaimed that “impressments” and “ship seizing” were never the causes of the war. They use, as a basis for their proclamations, the fact that neither was mentioned in the proposed wording of the Treaty of Ghent. Following that logic, these revisionists are forced to conclude that the true causes of the war must then be found within the wording of that document. That nonsensical thinking compels them to conclude that the United States declared war over boundary lines, fishing rights, andI ndian affairs, or over which country possessed the tiny Passamaquoddy Islands off the coast of Massachusetts—the only definitive item addressed in the treaty’s final revision.

Chapter Nine

1. Quoted in Lossing, p. 948. The weapons referred to were those of the British Navy. It had bombarded Copenhagen in 1807 and killed two thousand civilians and burned 30 percent of all the buildings. Congreve rockets had been used to start the fires. 2. Quoted in Lord, p. 228. 3. Ibid., p. 233. 4. Gleig, Narrative, pp. 164–65. 5. Ibid., p. 165. 6. Lossing, p. 947. 7. Gleig, Narrative, pp. 165–66. 8. Ibid., pp. 166–67. 9. Ibid., pp. 167–68. 10. Jane (Lady) Bourchier, Memoir of the Life of Admiral Sir Edward Codrington, vol. 1 (London: Longmans, Green, 1873), pp. 319–20. 11. Lossing, p. 950; Lord, p. 257. 12. Quoted in Lord, p. 261. 13. Cockburn to Cochrane, September 15, 1814, in Dudley, vol. 3, pp. 279–80. 14. Lord, pp. 262–63. 15. Gleig, Narrative, p. 175. 16. Ibid., p. 179. 17. Lord, pp. 267–69. 18. Bourchier, pp. 319–20. 19. Quoted in Lord, p. 274. 20. The flag was sewn by a widow,M ary Pickersgill, and her thirteen-year-old daughter Caroline. 21. Lord, pp. 278–79. 22. Gleig, Narrative, p. 185. 23. Ibid., pp. 187–88. 24. Ibid., pp. 192–93. 25. Even though Brooke was a colonel and Cochrane was the fleet’s admiral, it was Brooke’s command that was over the conduct of the operation. 26. Armistead to Monroe, September 24, 1814, in Dudley, vol. 3, p. 303. 336 notes to pages 199–210

27. Cochrane to Melville, September 14, 1814, in Dudley, vol. 3, p. 289. 28. Quoted in Lossing, p. 959. 29. Quoted in Reilly, p. 138. 30. Quoted in Lord, p. 302. 31. Bourchier, pp. 323–24. 32. Updyke, p. 205. 33. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 711. 34. Updyke, p. 280. 35. Ibid., p. 220. 36. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 713. 37. Ibid. 38. Updyke, p. 235. 39. Adams, Memoirs of John Quincy Adams, vol. 2, p. 31. 40. Wellington, Supplementary Despatches, vol. 9, p. 222. 41. Castlereagh to the commissioners at Ghent, in Vane, vol. 2, 1853, p. 91. 42. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 717. 43. Ibid., p. 721. 44. Ibid. 45. Of all the naval stations, in 1813 the backwater New Orleans Station was second in courts-martial. 46. Dudley, vol. 3, p. 661. 47. Ibid., p. 633. 48. Ibid., p. 630. 49. Ibid., p. 679. 50. Ibid. 51. Ibid. These were the seasons of yellow fever. 52. Marquis James, Andrew Jackson: The Border Captain (New York: Grosset & Dunlap, 1933), p. 190. 53. Ibid., pp. 190–91. 54. Ibid., p. 194. 55. Ibid. 56. Arsene LaCarriere Latour, Historical Memoir; or, The War in West Florida and Loui- siana in 1814–15 (Philadelphia: John Conrad, 1816), appendix. 57. Ibid. 58. James, p. 196. 59. Quoted in ibid., pp. 196–97. 60. James Parton, Life of Andrew Jackson (New York: Mason Brothers, 1860), vol. 2, p. 16. 61. Ibid. 62. Ibid. 63. Ibid., p. 22. 64. Quoted in ibid. 65. William C. Davis, The Pirates Laffite: The Treacherous World of the Corsairs of the Gulf (New York: Harcourt, 2005), pp. 75–76. 66. Latour, appendix, p. ix. notes to pages 210–218 337

67. Davis, pp. 164–65. 68. Ibid. pp. 165–66. 69. Latour, appendix, p. ix. 70. Ibid. 71. Davis, pp. 170–71. 72. Ibid. 73. Lossing, p. 1019. 74. John Spencer Bassett, ed., Major Howell Tatum’s Journal while Acting Topographical Engineer (1814) to General Jackson Commanding the Seventh Military District (Northamp- ton, MA: Smith College Studies in History, 1922), p. 51. 75. Lossing, p. 1020. 76. Ibid., pp. 1020–21. This force of 130 men was similar to the 189-man force that would defend the Alamo twenty-two years later. The difference was that at the Alamo, all were killed and the enemy overran the Alamo. Lawrence lost 4 killed and 4 wounded while inflicting 232 casualties on the British force.D isproportionately, 162 of those casualties were killed. 77. Latour, appendix, p. xxix. 78. Ibid., pp. xxix–xxx. 79. Quoted in Davis, p. 174. 80. Ibid., p. 179. 81. Ibid., p. 184. 82. Ibid., pp. 185–86. 83. Ibid., pp. 190–93. 84. Casper F. Goodrich, “Our Navy and the West Indian Pirates: Documentary History, Part 2,” Proceedings Magazine 42, no. 11 (1916), also at www.usni.org/heritage/west-indian- pirates-part-2. 85. Ibid., p. 198. 86. A recent revisionist historian claimed that “the Spanish governor of Pensacola had asked for assistance against a threatened American attack.” Reilly, p. 197. But evidence refutes that claim. A letter dated August 8, 1814, from an informant in Havana, warned of the sailing of the British fleet from Havana on August 11, 1814. That force was under the command of British colonel Nicholls, who had asked for permission to land at Pensacola but was refused by the captain general of Havana. The informant then said, “I learn they are determined to land at Pensacola, with or without leave, where they will disembark their park of artillery.” After recruiting slaves and Indians, Nicholls’s force would “push for New Orleans—first having secured and fortified Mobile point and taken Mobile.” Latour, appendix, pp. v–vi. Some speculate this letter was written by one of Lafitte’s pirates, Renato Beluche, since he was the most literate and it was written in his familiar style. Also, the mayor of Pensacola was his brother-in-law. Jane Lucas De Grummond, The Baratarians and the Battle of New Orleans (Baton Rouge, LA: Louisiana State University Press, 1961). p. 35. 87. Bassett, Tatum’s Journal, p. 62. 88. The army included 1,000 regulars with the Tennessee Volunteers, the Mississippi Dragoons, and friendly Choctaw Indians. 89. Lossing, pp. 1022–23. 338 notes to pages 218–224

90. Charles Gayarre, History of Louisiana (New York: William J. Widdleton, 1867), p. 342. 91. Ibid., p. 346. 92. Ibid., p. 378. 93. Ibid. 94. Piere had bravely entered the streets of Pensacola to march to Governor Manrique and present him with Jackson’s demands. 95. Bassett, Tatum’s Journal, p. 89. 96. Ibid., p. 94. 97. Today the city of Covington. 98. Bassett, Tatum’s Journal, p. 96. 99. Ibid. Most historians record Jackson’s arrival in New Orleans as December 2, but Howell’s journal clearly shows his arrival on the evening of November 30. 100. G. C. Moore Smith, vol. 1, pp. 207, 215. The prince regent was the future King GeorgeI V. 101. Quoted in Lord, p. 307. 102. Latour, appendix, p. i. 103. Valerie McNair Scott, Lady Pakenham, Major-General Sir Edward Pakenham (New Orleans: The Battle of New Orleans, 150th Anniversary Committee of Louisiana, 1965), pp. 31–32. 104. Quoted in Lord, p. 308. 105. Wellington, Supplementary Despatches, vol. 9, p. 384. 106. Quoted in Lord, p. 314. 107. G. C. Moore Smith, vol. 1, p. 226. 108. George Wrottesley, The Life and Correspondence of Field Marshall Sir John Bur- goyne, Bart (London: Richard Bentley, 1873), vol. 1, p. 299. 109. Bathurst to Pakenham, October 24, 1814, British National Archives, Kew Gardens, War Office, files 6/2, letters 26–29. 110. Ibid. 111. Ibid. 112. G. R. Gleig, A Subaltern in America; Comprising His Narrative of the Campaigns of the British Army at Baltimore, Washington, &c. &c. during the Late War (Philadelphia: E. L. Carey & A. Hart, 1833), p. 190. 113. Parton, vol. 2, p. 39. 114. Gleig, Narrative, p. 244. 115. The Niles Register 7 of February 25, 1815, shined the complete light on this part of the deception to take over New Orleans and Louisiana. HMS Plantagenet was a seventy- four-gun British ship of the line and part of Admiral Cochrane’s fleet for the conquest of New Orleans. It remained anchored in Negril Bay, Jamaica, while the invasion fleet sailed for Louisiana. When the invasion failed, Plantagenet sailed for Cuba, where her special mission was confirmed. Niles reported: “The Plantagenet 74 arrived at Havana. . . . It is notorious that they had also with them a comptroller, collector, printing presses and apparatus, and everything else that belonged to the permanent establishment they originally designed to have made at New Orleans.” 116. Parton, vol. 2, p. 40. notes to pages 225–236 339

Chapter Ten

1. Lossing, p. 1024. 2. John B. Dawson, quoted in Congressional Globe, 28th Congress, 1st session, Decem- ber 7, 1843, vol. 13, no. 1, p. 93. 3. Parton, vol. 2, pp. 30–31. 4. Bassett, Tatum’s Journal, p. 99. 5. Ibid., p. 101. 6. Today the site of the Louisiana Supreme Court. 7. Remini, Andrew Jackson, p. 253. 8. Davis, p. 209. 9. Latour, p. 86. 10. Monroe to Jackson, December 19, 1814, in Bassett, Correspondence, vol. 2, p. 110. 11. Lossing, p. 1025. 12. Ibid.; Gleig, Narrative, p. 247. 13. Ibid. 14. Ibid., p. 258. 15. Latour, appendix, pp. xxxiii–xxxiv. 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid., pp. xxxv–xxxvi. 18. Ibid., pp. xxxiii–xxxiv. 19. Ibid. Spring lines allow the crew to maneuver the vessel by hauling on the line to swing the bow around, much as Macdonald’s crews did at Lake Champlain. 20. Gleig, Narrative, p. 258. The British oarsmen had rowed almost without rest for forty miles. 21. Gleig, Narrative, p. 258. 22. Latour, appendix, pp. xxxiv–xxxv. 23. Ibid., p. xxxv. 24. Gleig, Narrative, p. 259. 25. Ibid., appendix, pp. cxxxii–cxxxiii. 26. Walker, pp. 107–8. 27. Gene A. Smith, ed., A British Eyewitness at the Battle of New Orleans (New Orleans: The Historic New Orleans Collection, 2004), p. 59. 28. Walker, p. 112. 29. Gleig, Narrative, p. 261. 30. Lossing, p. 1026. 31. Gleig, Narrative, p. 262. 32. Updyke, pp. 220–21. 33. Wellington to Liverpool, November 9, 1814, in Wellington, Supplementary Des- patches, vol. 9, p. 426. 34. Ibid. 35. Goulburn to Bathurst, November 10, 1814, in ibid., p. 427. 36. Ibid., p. 433. 37. Updyke, p. 314. 38. Ibid., p. 320. 340 notes to pages 236–246

39. Ibid., p. 324. 40. Adams, Memoirs of John Quincy Adams, vol. 3, p. 80. 41. Quoted in Updyke, p. 324. 42. Ibid., p. 325. 43. Quoted in ibid., p. 335. 44. Ibid., p. 344. 45. Russell to Crawford, Ghent, December 23, 1814, American Historical Review 20, no. 1 (October 1914): 128. 46. American State Papers, Foreign Relations, vol. 3, p. 732. 47. Russell also recognized the danger of setting a legal precedent in the Passamaquoddy case, and wrote, “To leave them in possession of those islands on their claim of previous right would be to make a special exception in favour of that right that might influence the tribunal to which its final decision was referred.” American Historical Review 20, no. 1 (October 1914): 128. 48. Folk, p. 31. 49. Bayard to Robert Goodloe Harper, Ghent, August 19, 1814, American Historical Review 20, no. 1 (October 1914): 116. 50. Adams, Memoirs of John Quincy Adams, vol. 3, p. 100. 51. Adams, History during Second Administration of Madison, p. 52. 52. Quoted in Lossing, p. 69. 53. Remini, Andrew Jackson, p. 257. 54. Latour, appendix, pp. x–xi. 55. Ibid. 56. Walker, p. 115. 57. Latour, p. 82. 58. Walker, pp. 114–15. 59. Gleig, Narrative, pp. 262–63. 60. Latour, pp. 78, 83. 61. Walker, p. 14. 62. Latour, p. 52. 63. Quoted in Jerome Greene, “The New Orleans Campaign of 1814–1815 in Relation to the Chalmette Battlefield,” National Park Service document, p. 25, www.nps.gov/history/ history/online_books/jela/lost_riverfront/part_1.pdf. 64. Ibid., p. 28. 65. Bassett, Correspondence, vol. 2, 57–58. 66. Greene, p. 29. 67. Marcus Christian, Negro Soldiers in the Battle of New Orleans (New Orleans: The Battle of New Orleans 150th Anniversary Committee of Louisiana, 1965), pp. 27–28. 68. Grace King, New Orleans: The Place and the People (New York: Macmillan, 1926), p. 218. 69. Ibid., p. 226. 70. Walker, pp. 154–55. Posse comitatus—literally “power of the country”—meant usually ordinary citizens using their own weapons to help enforce law and order. 71. Walker, pp. 155–56. notes to pages 246–257 341

72. Ibid., pp. 138–39, footnote. 73. Quoted in a letter to Ursuline nuns from President Thomas Jefferson, May 15, 1804, “Sister Xavier’s Herb Garden at the Historic Old Ursuline Convent,” www.thepastwhispers. com/NO_SisterXavier.html, accessed December 1, 2013. 74. Letter of Mother Marie Olivier de Vezin to General Jackson, December 20, 1814. Ursuline archives, New Orleans. 75. Ibid. 76. Gleig, Narrative, pp. 270–71. 77. Ibid., pp. 272–73. 78. Ibid., p. 274; Alexander Dickson, “Journal of Operations against New Orleans,” Loui- siana Historical Quarterly 44, nos. 3–4 (January–April 1961): 4. 79. Gleig, Narrative, pp. 274–75. 80. Ibid., p. 276. 81. Ibid. 82. Ibid., p. 277. 83. Walker, pp. 126–30; Latour, appendix, p. cxliv. 84. Gleig, Narrative, pp. 278, 283–84. 85. Walker, p. 15; Lossing, p. 1029. The alarm was spread by many riders. Gleig wrote, “Horsemen were seen hurrying at their utmost speed along the opposite bank of the river, toward town. Of the inhabitants on this side, too, several were known to have escaped. . . . The alarm of our landing would be circulating throughout the province.” Gleig, Subaltern in America, p. 215. 86. Ibid. 87. Parton, vol. 2, pp. 73–74. Contrary to some historical reports, there were no Baratar- ians in the crew of Carolina. In fact, the ship had been assigned to New Orleans as a direct result of the United States’ battle with the pirates. It had been sent to stop their smuggling activities and had its own regular navy crew. See Daughan, p. 383. Today the place where Jackson mounted his horse is the site of the old New Orleans Mint at the head of Esplanade Ave. and the river. 88. Walker, p. 160; Parton, vol. 2, p. 75. 89. Walker, p. 162. 90. Parton, vol. 2, p. 67. 91. Walker, p. 161. 92. Davis, pp. 214–15; Walker, p. 163. 93. Gleig, Narrative, p. 283. 94. Mounted infantry. 95. Walker, p. 166. 96. Parton, vol. 2, p. 84. 97. Gleig, Narrative, p. 284. 98. Ibid. 99. Captain John Henry Cooke, A Narrative of Events in the South of France and of the Attack on New Orleans in 1814 and 1815 (London: T. & W. Boone, 1835), p. 191. 100. Gleig, Narrative, p. 285. 101. Ibid. 342 notes to pages 258–265

102. Parton, vol. 2, pp. 89–90. 103. Quoted in Parton, vol. 2, p. 88. 104. Gleig, Narrative, p. 286. 105. Ibid., pp. 286–87. 106. “Diary of Benjamin Story, 1814–1815,” Tulane University archive; copy in Ronald and Judith Drez collection. Story was typical of the men composing Beale’s Rifles. He was an upper-class, wealthy merchant and banker. 107. Ibid. 108. Ibid. 109. Walker, p. 174. 110. Quoted in Parton, vol. 2, p. 92. 111. “Diary of Story.” 112. Walker, p. 180. 113. Parton, vol. 2, p. 103. 114. Gleig, Narrative, p. 294. 115. Quoted in Parton, vol. 2, p. 93. 116. The significance of this surprise night attack that knocked the British army off- balance and disrupted their organized assembly and formation for attack is often lost on revisionists who lack a basic understanding of military strategy and tactics. One labeled Jackson’s attack as “almost foolhardily ambitious” and concluded that the result of the engagement “was at best a draw of the Americans.” See Pickles, pp. 47–48. 117. William Surtees, Twenty Five Years with the Rifle Brigade (Edinburgh, Scotland: William Blackwood & T. Cadell, 1833), p. 363. Some writers have suggested that it was an old mill race to bring the flow of water, at high river, to turn the machinery of a mill erected on the riverbank. The mill that had previously been there was long gone, and the slaves’ description of its more modern use was correct. 118. Latour, p. 113. 119. Jackson also ordered General Morgan from his position near English Turn to cut the levee at Jumonville Plantation below the British position, so as to also flood the land below the British position and isolate their army on a veritable “island.” It was all a brilliant scheme, but the river level was too low to bring it to a reality. 120. Remini, Andrew Jackson, p. 265. 121. Davis, p. 216. 122. Cooke, pp. 201–2. 123. Lossing, p. 1035. 124. Gleig, Narrative, p. 299. 125. Ibid., p. 300; Cooke, p. 201. 126. Gleig, Narrative, p. 303 According to Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Dickson, chief of artillery, it was eight total pieces brought to the battery to attack Carolina: two nine- pounders, four six-pounders, and two five-and-a-half-inch howitzers.D ickson, p. 10. 127. Dickson, p. 13. 128. Latour, appendix, p. xiviii. 129. Ibid. 130. Bassett, Tatum’s Journal, p. 113. notes to pages 265–271 343

131. Dickson, p. 17. Some writers have made much ado about the lost chance of engaging and sinking both vessels (Carolina and Louisiana) if the British had first engaged Louisiana, or at least split the battery to engage both vessels. They opine that Louisiana could have been sunk first andCarolina, being much closer with no wind to sail away, could have then been concentrated upon. These writers fail to realize that Louisiana was almost a mile farther upriver than Carolina and well out of range of the nine-pounders. General Pakenham had been anxious about whether the nine-pounders could even engage Carolina accurately from only 800 yards. The only weapon that could fire even close toLouisiana was the heavy five-and-a-half-inch howitzer, which fired a twenty-four-pound shot a maximum effective range of 1,322 yards. Joseph Roberts, The Hand-Book of Artillery, for the Service of the United States, 9th ed. (New York: D. Van Nostrand, 1865), p. 74. 132. Gleig, Narrative, p. 304. 133. Ibid., pp. 303–4. 134. Jackson wanted to be able to impress men into service to form a crew after he declared martial law, but the legislature rebuffed him and instead approved a bonus to attract the seamen. A number of writers continue to mistakenly report that the crew had been impressed and was also made up of some of Lafitte’s men. Some men might have been “forced” into service, but none of them were Lafitte’s. 135. Latour, appendix, pp. xlix–l. 136. Richard Williams, “U.S. Naval Squadron—New Orleans, 1814,” Upper Mississippi Brigade, http://umbrigade.tripod.com/articles/navy_neworleans.html. 137. Parton, vol. 2, p. 128. 138. The Second Brigade included the Ninety-Fifth, the Eighty-Fifth, the Ninety-Third, and the First West India Regiments; the First Brigade included the Fourth, the Twenty-First, the Forty-Fourth, and the Fifth West India Regiments. 139. Surtees, p. 356; quote in Gleig, Narrative, 311. 140. Latour, p. 120. 141. Ibid., p. xlix. 142. Gleig, Narrative, p. 309. 143. The “Crescent Battery” was in a strong redoubt that Jackson had constructed on the extreme right of his defensive line. It guarded the river road, which was the main avenue of approach to his position and, beyond, to the city. This small fortress was in a crescent shape with the closed side facing the enemy. 144. Cooke, p. 208; Surtees, p. 359; Latour, appendix, pp. xlix–l. 145. Gleig, Narrative, p. 311. 146. Ibid. 147. Gleig, Subaltern in America, p. 236. 148. Lossing, p. 1038. 149. Parton, vol. 2, p. 151. 150. Ibid. 151. Gleig, Narrative, p. 313. 152. Ibid.; quote in Surtees, p. 364. 153. Surtees, p. 364. 154. Gleig, Narrative, p. 314. 344 notes to pages 271–281

155. Ibid., p. 316. 156. Ibid., pp. 316–17; Surtees, p. 365. Jackson’s celebration in the face of the enemy was an effort to instill confidence in his men. Remini, Andrew Jackson, p. 269. 157. Surtees, p. 364. 158. Cooke, p. 211. 159. Ibid. 160. Surtees, pp. 365–66. 161. Ibid., 366. 162. Ibid. 163. Walker, p. 258. 164. British losses during that January 1 duel were approximately 30 killed and 40 wounded. The Americans lost 11 killed and 25 wounded. Parton, vol. 2, p. 164. 165. Gleig, Narrative, p. 316. 166. Surtees, p. 368. 167. Parton, vol. 2, p. 167; Bassett, Tatum’s Journal, p. 114. 168. Ibid., p. 36. 169. Quoted in Remini, Andrew Jackson, p. 273. 170. Lord, p. 331. 171. Gleig, Narrative, pp. 320–21. 172. Surtees, p. 369. 173. Gleig, Narrative, pp. 320–21. 174. Greene, p. 115. 175. Quoted in Greene, pp. 115–16; Bradford to F. A. Browder, January 6, 1815, Depart- ment of Archives and Manuscripts, Louisiana State University. 176. Latour, p. 153. 177. Parton, vol. 2, pp. 177–78; Lossing, pp. 1041–42. 178. Bassett, Tatum’s Journal, p. 124. 179. Latour, p. 152. 180. Gleig, Narrative, p. 321. 181. G. C. Moore Smith, vol. 1, p. 234. 182. Dickson, p. 58. 183. Ibid. 184. Ibid., p. 59. 185. He was to display a blue light if he failed to secure the American batteries. 186. Dickson, p. 54. 187. Reilly, p. 286. 188. Cooke, p. 232. 189. Gleig, Narrative, p. 332. 190. Surtees, p. 373. 191. C. G. Moore Smith, vol. 1, p. 235. 192. Cooke, p. 244. 193. C G. Moore Smith, vol. 1, p. 236. 194. Surtees, 373. notes to pages 281–288 345

195. Cooke, p. 229. 196. Ibid. p. 231. 197. Ibid. 198. Lord, p. 332. 199. Quoted in Parton, vol. 2, p. 191. 200. Surtees, 373–74. For this dereliction, Mullins was court-martialed and dismissed from the army. 201. Cooke, p. 234. 202. Quoted in Reilly, p. 290. 203. Walker, p. 326. 204. Quoted in Walker, p. 336. 205. After the battle, the members of Beale’s Rifles argued about whose bullet had brought him down. A man named Withers, renowned for his marksmanship, said, “If he isn’t hit above the eyebrow, it wasn’t my shot.” An examination of the body revealed that his wound was just above his eyebrow. Withers rounded up Rennie’s possessions and sent them to his widow, who, with the other civilians on board ships in the Gulf, had been waiting to move into the captured city of New Orleans. Walker, p. 337. 206. Ibid., pp. 337–38. 207. Ibid., p. 338. 208. Cooke, p. 231. 209. Ibid., p. 235. 210. Ibid., p. 237. Alexander Walker wrote, “The field was so thickly strewn with the dead, that from the American ditch you could have walked a quarter mile to the front on the bodies of the killed or disabled. The space in front of Carroll’s position, for an extent of two hundred yards, was literally covered with the slain.” Walker, p. 341. 211. Quoted in Parton, vol. 2, p. 208. 212. John Spencer Cooper, Rough Notes of Seven Campaigns in Portugal, Spain, France, and America, during the Years 1809–10–11–12–13–14–15 (Carlisle, England: G. T. Coward: 1914), chap. 7, pp. 130–50. 213. Gleig, Narrative, p. 327; Parton, vol. 2, p. 214. 214. Quoted in Gayarre, p. 487. 215. Parton, vol. 2, pp. 215–17. 216. Walker, p. 368; Parton, vol. 2, pp. 213–17. Guns were spiked by pounding a spike or nail into the touch hole, where a flame ignites the powder train to fire the gun.O nce the head of the spike is knocked off, and the spike flattened, the spike is very difficult to remove and certainly cannot be removed quickly; the gun is useless until the touch hole can be cleared or rebored. Alexander Walker specifically details the spiking of the guns of each battery:C oncerning Morgan’s battery, he wrote, “Their batteries having discharged their last cartridge, of which they had twelve . . . [they] were compelled also to abandon their positions . . . after spiking their guns and tumbling them into the river” (p. 353). Concerning Patterson’s guns, he wrote, “The commodore, perceiving that his battery was unmasked and exposed . . . directed the guns to be spiked, and the powder to be thrown into the river” (p. 354). And James Parton in 346 notes to pages 288–297

Life of Andrew Jackson confirmed the spiking and wrote that in theA merican counterattack to recapture Morgan’s position, “the sailors bored out the spikes of the guns, toiling at work all the next day” (vol. 2, p. 220). 217. Niles’ Weekly Register 7, no. 24 (February 11, 1815): 323. 218. Bassett, Tatum’s Journal, p. 128. 219. Gleig, Narrative, pp. 328–30. 220. Reilly, pp. 294–95. 221. Pickles, pp. 77–80; Gleig, Narrative, p. 329. 222. Remini, Andrew Jackson, pp. 283–84. 223. Reilly, p. 296. 224. Latour, appendix, p. lxiii. 225. Ibid.; Reilly, p. 296. 226. C. I. A. Ritchie, ed., “British Documents on the Louisiana Campaign, 1814–15,” Louisiana Historical Quarterly 44, nos. 1–2 (January–April 1961): 104. 227. Ibid. 228. Ibid., p. 111. 229. Ibid., p. 77, note 7. 230. Dickson, p. 66. 231. C. G. Moore Smith, vol. 1, pp. 239–40. 232. Dickson, p. 66. 233. Ibid. 234. Ibid., pp. 67–68. 235. Latour, appendix, p. clii. 236. Wrottesley, p. 306; Bassett, Tatum’s Journal, pp. 128–29. 237. Dickson, p. 68, my emphasis. 238. Ibid., pp. 68–69. 239. Ritchie, p. 77, note 7. 240. Ibid. 241. Ibid., p. 113. 242. Ibid., p. 82. 243. Reilly called Ritchie’s thesis “an excellent study of the Dickson papers,” p. 2. 244. Reilly, p. 299. Ritchie’s article was written in 1961 and Reilly’s book was published in 1974. 245. Ibid., p. 296. 246. Ibid., my emphasis. 247. Latour, appendix, p. clii. 248. Parton, vol. 2, p. 218. 249. Ibid., p. 219; G. C. Moore Smith, vol. 1, p. 240. 250. Ibid., p. 220; Bassett, Tatum’s Journal, p. 131. 251. William Edwards Clement, Plantation Life on the Mississippi (New Orleans: Peli- can, 1952), pp. 135–36. 252. National Shrine of Our Lady of Prompt Succor, “A Brief but Remarkable History of the Devotion,” www.shrineofourladyofpromptsuccor.com/History-of-the-Devotion.html, accessed November 25, 2013. notes to pages 298–314 347

after the battle, General Jackson visited the sisters and said, “By the blessing of heaven, directing the valor of the troops under my command, one of the most brilliant victories in the annals of war was obtained.” Mary Page, University of Dayton, www.campus.udayton. edu/mary/prayers/succor.htm, updated June 2013. 253. Quoted in Parton, vol. 2, pp. 228–29. 254. Parton, vol. 2, pp. 222–23. 255. Quoted in Parton, vol. 2, p. 228. 256. Walker, p. 346. 257. Parton, vol. 2, pp. 239–40. 258. Gleig, Narrative, p. 336. 259. Ibid., p. 342. 260. Cooke, p. 272. 261. Ibid., p. 276. 262. Walker, p. 385. 263. Ibid., p. 386. 264. Quoted in Parton, vol. 2, p. 247.

Epilogue

1. The chairman was Reau Folk, historian and former Tennessee state treasurer; Judge John DeWitt, Tennessee Court of Appeals and president of the Tennessee Historical Society; Claude Bowers, author, historian, and editor—and ambassador to Spain; John Trotwood Moore, state librarian and historian; and John S. Kendall, historian and professor at Tulane University. 2. Lawrence Hott and Diane Garey, The War of 1812, Produced by PBS, Washington, DC, 2011, DVD. 3. Adams, History of the United States, 1801–1817, vol. 3, pp. 90–91. 4. Ibid., p. 81. 5. Ibid., p. 142. 6. Quoted in Folk, p. 7. 7. See Dr. Richard B. Spence, “PerfidiousA lbion: An Introduction to the Secret History of the British Empire,” New Dawn Magazine, May 18, 2011, also at www.newdawnmagazine. com/articles/perfidious-albion-an-introduction-to-the-secret-history-of-the-british-empire. 8. Quoted in Louisiana Quarterly 44, nos. 3–4 (July–October 1961): 163–64. 9. Cooke, pp. 259–60. 10. Richard Holmes, Wellington: The Iron Duke (London: Harper and Collins, 2003), p. 206. This page intentionally left blank Bi bliography

Primary and Secondary Sources

Adams, Charles Francis, ed. The Memoirs of John Quincy Adams: Comprising Por- tions of His Diary from 1795 to 1838. 12 vols. Philadelphia, 1874. Adams, Henry. History of the United States, 1801–1817. 9 vols. New York, 1889–91. American State Papers, Foreign Relations. Vols. 1–3, 1774–1875. Washington, DC. American State Papers, Senate. Vols. 1–2, 1774–1875. Washington, DC. Annals of Congress of the United States, 1789–1824. Washington, DC, 1834–56. Bassett, John Spencer, ed. Correspondence of Andrew Jackson. 7 vols. Washington, DC, 1926–35. ———, ed. Major Howell Tatum’s Journal while Acting Topographical Engineer (1814) to General Jackson Commanding the Seventh Military District. Northampton, MA, 1922. Blaine, James G. Twenty Years of Congress: From Lincoln to Garfield. 2 vols. Nor- wich, CT, 1884. Blanning, T. C. W. The French Revolutionary Wars, 1787–1802. London, 1996. Bourchier, Jane (Lady). Memoir of the Life of Admiral Sir Edward Codrington. Vol. 1. London, 1873. Brice, Wallace A. History of Fort Wayne. Fort Wayne, IN, 1868. “A Brief but Remarkable History of the Devotion.” National Shrine of Our Lady of Prompt Succor. Available at www.shrineofourladyofpromptsuccor.com/History- of-the-Devotion.html and at www.campus.udayton.edu/mary/prayers/succor .htm. Budiansky, Stephen. Perilous Fight: America’s Intrepid War with Britain on the High Seas, 1812–1815. New York, 2010. Casselman, Alexander Clark. Richardson’s War of 1812. Toronto, 1902. Christian, Marcus. Negro Soldiers in the Battle of New Orleans. New Orleans, 1965. Clement, William Edwards. Plantation Life on the Mississippi. New Orleans, 1952.

349 350 bibliography

Cook, Gordon C. Disease in the Merchant Navy: A History of the Seamen’s Hospital Society. London, 2008. Cooke, John Henry. A Narrative of Events in the South of France and of the Attack on New Orleans in 1814 and 1815. London, 1835. Cooper, James Fenimore. History of the Navy of the United States of America. 2 vols. New York, 1853. Cooper, John Spencer. Rough Notes of Seven Campaigns in Portugal, Spain, France, and America, during the Years 1809–10–11–12–13–14–15. Carlisle, England, 1914. Crawford, Michael J., ed. The Naval War of 1812: A Documentary History. Vol. 3. Washington, DC, 2002. Cruikshank, Ernest. The Siege of Fort Erie: August 1st–September 23rd 1814. Welland, ON, 1905. Daughan, George C. 1812: The Navy’s War. New York, 2011. Davis, William C. The Pirates Laffite: The Treacherous World of the Corsairs of the Gulf. New York, 2005. De Grummond, Jane Lucas. The Baratarians and the Battle of New Orleans. Baton Rouge, LA, 1961. DeKay, James T. Chronicles of the Frigate Macedonian, 1809–1922. New York, 1995. “Diary of Benjamin Story, 1814–1815.” Tulane University Archive, New Orleans. Dickson, Alexander. “Journal of Operations in Louisiana, 1814 and 1815.” Louisiana Historical Quarterly 44, nos. 3–4 (July–October 1961): 1–110. Dudley, William S., ed. The Naval War of 1812: A Documentary History. 3 vols. Washington, DC, 1985. Elting, John R. Amateurs to Arms! A Military History of the War of 1812. New York, 1995. Everest, Allan S. The War of 1812 in the Champlain Valley. New York, 1981. Folk, Reau E. Battle of New Orleans, Its Real Meaning: Exposure of Untruth Being Taught Young America. Nashville, TN, 1935. Ford, Paul Leicester, ed. The Works of Thomas Jefferson. vol. 10. London, 1904–5. Gleig, George R., A Narrative of the Campaigns of the British Army at Washington and New Orleans under Generals Ross, Pakenham, and Lambert in the Years 1814 and 1815. London, 1824. ——— . A Subaltern in America: Comprising His Narrative of the Campaigns of the British Army at Baltimore, Washington, &c. &c. during the Late War. Philadel- phia, 1833. Goodrich, Casper F. “Our Navy and the West Indian Pirates: Documentary History, Part 2.” Proceedings Magazine 42, no. 11 (1916). Also at www.usni.org/heritage/ west-indian-pirates-part-2. Graves, Donald E. The Battle of Lundy’s Lane: On the Niagara in 1814. Baltimore, 1993. bibliography 351

Greene, Jerome. “The New Orleans Campaign of 1814–1815 in Relation to the Chal- mette Battlefield.” Undated National Park Service document. Available at www .nps.gov/history/history/online_books/jela/lost_riverfront/part_1.pdf. Gurwood, Lieut. Colonel, comp. The Dispatches of Field Marshall the Duke of Wel- lington, during His Various Campaigns. 11 vols. London, 1838. Hart, Albert Bushnell, ed. American History Told by Contemporaries. Vol. 3, Build- ing of the Republic. New York, 1901. Hickey, Donald R. The War of 1812: A Forgotten Conflict. Urbana, IL, 1989. Hott, Lawrence, and Diane Garey. The War of 1812. PBS television series. Washing- ton DC, 2011. DVD. Hull, William. Memoirs of the Campaign of the North Western Army of the United States, A.D. 1812. Boston, 1824. Information Sheet No. 78. Royal Naval Museum Library, Portsmouth, England, 2001. Izard, Major General. Official Correspondences with the Department of War. Phila- delphia, 1816. James, Marquis. Andrew Jackson: The Border Captain. New York, 1933. King, Grace. New Orleans: The Place and the People. New York, 1926. Latour, Arsene LaCarriere. Historical Memoir; or, The War in West Florida and Louisiana in 1814–15. Philadelphia, 1816. Lavery, Brian. Nelson’s Navy: The Ships, Men, and Organization. Annapolis, MD, 2004. Loomis, Stanley. Paris in the Terror. New York, 1964. Lord, Walter. The Dawn’s Early Light. New York, 1972. Lossing, Benson J. Pictorial Field-Book of the War of 1812. New York, 1868. Lovell, Stanhope. Personal Narrative of Events, from 1799 to 1815. London, 1879. Malone, Dumas. Jefferson and the Rights of Man. Boston, 1951. Michell, John, “Diary of Major J. Michell.” Louisiana Historical Quarterly 44, nos. 3–4 (July–October 1961): 127. Napier, William. The Life and Opinions of General Sir Charles Napier, G.C.B. Vol. 1. London, 1857. Owens, Robert M. Mr. Jefferson’s Hammer: William Henry Harrison and the Origins of American Indian Policy. Norman, OK, 2007. Parton, James. Life of Andrew Jackson. Vol. 2. New York, 1860. Pickett, Albert J. History of Alabama. 2 vols. Charleston, SC, 1851. Pitch, Anthony S. The Burning of Washington: The British Invasion of 1814. An- napolis, MD, 1998. Reilly, Robin. The British at the Gates. New York, 1974. Remini, Robert V. Andrew Jackson and the Course of American Empire, 1767–1821. New York, 1977. ——— . The Battle of New Orleans. New York, 1999. 352 bibliography

Ritchie, C. I. A., ed. “British Documents on the Louisiana Campaign, 1814–15.” Loui- siana Historical Quarterly 44, nos. 1–2 (January–April 1961): 13–122. Rodger, N. A. M. The Command of the Ocean: A Naval History of Britain, 1649–1815. London, 2004. Roosevelt, Theodore. The Naval War of 1812. New York, 1900. Scott, Valerie McNair, Lady Pakenham. Major-General Sir Edward Pakenham. New Orleans, LA, 1965. Seelinger, Matthew J. “Those Are Regulars by God: The Battle of Chippewa, 1814.” National Museum of the United States Army. Also at https://armyhistory.org/09/ those-are-regulars-by-god-the-battle-of-chippewa-1814/. Sheppe, Walter, ed. First Man West: Alexander Mackenzie’s Journal of His Voyage to the Pacific Coast of Canada in 1793. London, 1962. Smith, C. G. Moore, ed. The Autobiography of Lieutenant-General Sir Harry Smith. 2 vols., London, 1902. Smith, Zachary F. The Battle of New Orleans. Louisville, KY, 1904. Stewart, Richard W., ed. American Military History. Vol. 1, The United States Army and the Forging of a Nation, 1775–1917. Washington, DC, 2005. Stoddard, T. Lothrop. The French Revolution in San Domingo. Boston, 1914. Sullivan-Hollerman, Elizabeth, and Isabel Hillery Cobb. The Saint Domingue Epic. Bay St. Louis, MS, 1984. Surtees, William. Twenty Five Years with the Rifle Brigade. Edinburgh, Scotland, 1833. Thomson, John Lewis. Historical Sketches of the Late War between the United States and Great Britain. 5th ed. Philadelphia, 1818. Updyke, Frank A. The Diplomacy of the War of 1812. Baltimore, 1915. U.S. Army. Trial of Gen. William Hull, for Cowardice, Neglect of Duty, and Unofficer- like Conduct, with the Sentence of the Court, and Remission Thereof by the Presi- dent of the United States. Boston, 1814. Vane, William, ed. Correspondence, Dispatches, and Other Papers of Viscount Castle reagh. 9 vols. London, 1852. Walker, Alexander. Jackson and New Orleans. New York, 1856. Wellington, His Son, the Duke of, ed. Supplementary Despatches, Correspondences, and Memoranda of Field Marshal Arthur, Duke of Wellington. K.G. 9 vols. Lon- don, 1862. White, Elder James, ed. The Early Life and Later Experiences and Labors of Elder Joseph Bates. Battle Creek, MI, 1877. Williams, Richard. “U.S. Naval Squadron—New Orleans, 1814.” Upper Mississippi Brigade, http://umbrigade.tripod.com/articles/navy_neworleans.html. Wilson, John. The Trial of John Wilson, alias Jenkin Ratford for Mutiny, Desertion, and Contempt. Boston, 1807. Wrottesley, George. The Life and Correspondence of Field Marshall Sir John Bur- goyne, Bart. Vol. 1. London, 1873. “XYZ Affair.” Thomas Jefferson Encyclopedia, at www.monticello.org/, 2012. bibliography 353

Periodicals

American Historical Review, Oxford University Press, 1914. Congressional Globe, Blair and Reeves, December 7, 1843. London Gazette. Niles Weekly Register, 1814–15. Norfolk-Portsmouth Virginia Pilot, 2013. War of 1812 Magazine, www.napoleon-series.org/military/c_warof1812.html. Weekly Messenger, Boston, 1814.

Other Sources

British National Archives, Kew Gardens, London. Department of the Navy—Naval History & Heritage Command, www.history.navy .mil/danfs/c7/chesapeake-i.htm. Mariners Museum, www.marinersmuseum.org/sites/micro/usnavy/08/08b.htm. Napoleon Series, www.napoleon-series.org. National Archives, Kew Gardens, London. National Center for Public Policy Research, www.nationalcenter.org/Tecumseh.html. Navy Department Library, Naval History and Heritage Command, Washington, DC. Available at www.history.navy.mil/library/online/leopard1807.htm. Niagara Falls History Museum, www.niagarafallsmuseums.ca. Office of theH istorian Treaty of San Lorenzo/Pinckney’s Treaty, 1795. U.S. Depart- ment of State, http://history.state.gov/milestones/1784–1800/PickneyTreaty. Prince George’s County Department of Parks and Recreation, www.pgparks.com/ War_of_1812/History/The_Chesapeake_Flotilla_and_Joshua_Barney.htm. Thomas Jefferson Papers, Miller Center, University of Virginia, Charlottesville. Ursuline Archives, New Orleans. War of 1812, www.galafilm.com/1812/e/events/ftdearborn.html. This page intentionally left blank Index

Numbers in italic indicate illustrations. Barney, Joshua, 179–80, 186 Barron, James, 49, 61–64, 68 Act for the Protection and Relief of Ameri- Bates, Joseph, 45–46, 49 can Seaman, An, 43–44 Bathurst, Henry, xix, 148, 176–78, 188, 200, Active, 66 203, 220, 221, 222–23, 234, 305, 309, Adair, John, 274 315–16, 333n24 Adams, Henry, 8–9, 33, 54, 116, 239, 304, Bayard, James, 143, 169–70, 202, 203, 239, 312 332n3 Adams, John, 23–24, 37–38 Bayou Bienvenue, 15, 241–42, 249, 262 Adams, John Quincy, 142, 143, 170, 202, Bayou Lafourche, 206, 210 236, 239 Bayou Mazant, 242 Adams, William, 201 Bayou St. John, 15, 220, 226, 246 Aitchison, Robert, 232 Bayou Villere, 262 Alexander I, 142 Beale, Thomas, 245, 257 Alexandria, VA, xvii, 184 Beale’s Rifles, 245, 254, 259, 260, 285, 297, Algiers pirates, 18 342n106, 345n205 American Revolution, xiii, 10, 17, 37, 39, 115, Beckwith, Thomas Sidney, 153, 154–55 137, 173 Belknap, William, 164 American State Papers, 11 Bellingham, John, 92 Andry’s Plantation, 279 Beluche, Dominique, 273, 337n86 Annals of Congress, 11 Berkeley, George Cranfield, 61, 62, 68, 72, Armistead, George, 197–98, 199, 311 77, 78, 79–80, 81, 82–83, 88, 154 Armstrong, John, 124, 157, 174, 179, 182, Berlin Decree, 49, 75 185–86 Bingham, Arthur, 87 Arnaud, Paul, 287 Black Rock Ferry, 163 Aurora, 52 Bladensburg, Battle of, xvi, 181–82, 187, 193 Bladensburg Races, 193, 196 Bainbridge, William, 93, 117, 311 Blount, William, 138, 139, 218 Baltimore, attack on, xviii, 3, 193–200 Bonaparte, Napoleon, xiv, xv, 10, 13, 22–23, Barataria Bay, xvii, xviii, 210, 215–16 25, 26, 27, 28–29, 31, 32–33, 34, 35, 39, Barclay, Robert, 130 48–49, 56, 75–76, 81, 94, 111, 115, 126,

355 356 index

Bonaparte, Napoleon (continued) Claiborne, William, xv, xvii, 18, 208–9, 215, 135, 141, 142, 148, 157, 170, 171, 172, 175, 218, 226, 227, 240 204, 233–34, 307, 313, 328n45 Clauswitz, Karl von, 14 Bradford, James, 276 Clay, Henry, 170, 202, 203, 236, 332n3 Bradley, William, 74, 154 Clement, Mrs. Henry, 297 Brock, Isaac, 102 Clinton, George, 66 Broke, Philip, 128, 129 Cochrane, Alexander, xv, xvi, xviii, 156, 178– Brooke, George, 196, 198–99, 248, 335n25 79, 180–81, 186–87, 190, 197–98, 199, Brown, Jacob J., 157–58, 160–61, 163, 221, 223, 228, 241, 255, 294, 297, 314 165–68, 246, 311 Cockburn, George, xvi, xviii, 149–50, 153, Budd, George, 129 154, 155–56, 179–81, 183, 184, 185–86, Budiansky, Stephen, 8 187, 195, 196, 199, 334n65 Burgoyne, John, 294 Codrington, Edward, 194, 197, 200 Burr, Aaron, 55–56, 322n14 Coffee, John, 7, 140, 146–47, 217, 219, 241, Bush, William S., 107 244, 245, 254, 257, 259–60, 269, 274, 311 Butler, Thomas, 241 Columbus, Christopher, 16 Cooke, John Henry, 256, 260, 261, 263, 268, Caldwell, Henry, 86 272–73, 279, 281–82, 283, 285–86, 289, Calhoun, John, 90 299–300, 313 Camps of Instruction, 157 Cooper, James Fenimore, 116 Canada. See Upper Canada Cooper, John Spencer, 286 Canning, George, 67, 72, 73, 76–78, 79, Corbett, William, 47 80–83, 115 Courier, 171, 191 Carden, John, 108–10 Craney Island, Battle of, 149, 150–55, 151 Carmick, Daniel, 245 Crawley, C. E., 273 Carroll, William, 241, 243, 244, 245–46, Creek Indians, xv, xvi, 136–40, 145–48, 252, 298 206–7, 209, 216, 331n81 Cass, Lewis, 101 Crescent Battery, 268, 276, 282, 284, 343n143 Castlereagh, Lord (Robert Stewart), 110–11, Croker, John, 186 112–14, 142, 143, 144–45, 157, 169, 176, Cruikshank, Ernest, 164, 165 186, 191–92, 201, 203, 305 Crutchfield, Stapleton, 153 Cathcart, William, 113 Cutting, John B., 43 Centipede, 152, 155 Cutts, Anna, 182 Charles III, 17 Cynthia Ann, 65–66 Charles IV, 32 Chasseurs Britanniques, 153, 154 Dabney, Thomas Ewing, 313 Chauncey, Isaac, 124, 160 Dacres, James R., 106, 115–16 Chef Menteur, 206, 226, 276 Dallas, Alexander James, 86 Chesapeake Bay, xvi, 4, 49–50, 149, 175, Dartmoor prison, 46 333n24 Daughan, George, 42 Chesapeake-Leopard affair, 58–65, 66–69, d’Aquin, Antoine Pierre, 27 70, 71–75, 78–79, 81, 82–84, 85–86, d’Aquin, Charles Louis, 27, 240, 243, 244, 87–89, 90, 306 247, 254, 257, 285 Chippawa, Battle of, 158–60, 159 d’Aquin, Pierre, 27 Choctaw Indians, 253, 257, 274 Davie, William R., 137 index 357

Davis, John, 287 Fort Malden, 97, 100, 101–2, 119, 123, 131, 133 Dearborn, Henry, 102, 124, 125, 142, 174 Fort McHenry, xviii, 3, 193, 194, 197–99, Decatur, 105 303, 311 Decatur, Stephen, 64–65, 87, 96, 108–9, Fort Meigs, 123 110, 117, 311 Fort Mims, 136–37, 138, 139, 140, 148, 208, De la Croix, Dussau, 251, 252 209, 253, 303 de la Ronde, Pierre, 251, 252 Fort Niagara, 124–25, 135, 160, 176 Desha, John, 90–91 Fort Sinquefield, 137 Detroit, 100–104, 117, 118, 130, 133, 178 Fort St. Charles, 220, 252 de Vezin, Marie Olivier, 248, 297 Fort St. John, 220, 240, 244, 246, 252, 253 DeWitt, John H., 313, 347n1 Fort St. Philip, 226, 244, 299 Dickson, Alexander, 264, 265, 278, 291, Fort Strother, 139, 140 292–94, 296, 297, 342n126 Fort Wayne, 103, 104 Douglas, John, 64, 65, 74, 154 Foster, Augustus J., 85–86, 87–88, 91 Douglass, David, 164 Fox, Charles, 322n14 Drummond, George, 160–61, 163–65, 168 France, xiii, xiv, 16–17, 19, 20–30, 32, 34, 39, DuPont de Nemours, E. I., 31–32 48–49, 75–76, 142–43, 172, 318n1, 319n53 French and Indian War. See Seven Years’ East Florida, xiii, 33, 34, 332n10 War Eisenhower, Dwight D., 5, 148 French Revolution, 26, 38–39 Elliot, Jesse D., 135 Frenchtown, 119, 121, 122 Embargo Act (1807), 76 English Turn, 226, 263, 299 Gaines, Edmund, 163–64, 165, 311 Erskine, David, 77–80, 82–83, 84, 91 Gallatin, Albert, 143, 169–70, 202, 332n3 Eustis, William, 117, 118 Gambier, James, 201 Evans, Samuel, 127 Garrard, James, 18 George III, 38, 87–88, 112 Feliciana Dragoons, 255 George IV, 112–13, 324n50 Ferris, John, 230 Ghent, negotiations at, xiv, xvi, xviii, xix, xx, Florida. See East Florida; West Florida 170, 191–92, 200–204, 222, 233–40, 261, Fort Barancas, 217 304, 305–7, 311. See also Treaty of Ghent Fort Bowyer, xvi, xviii, xxi, 156, 207, 212–14, Gibbs, Samuel, 266, 268–69, 279, 282, 213, 301 283–84 Fort Craney, 152 Gleig, George, 183, 184, 194, 196, 198, 199, Fort Dearborn, 103, 136, 253, 303 223–24, 228–29, 231, 232, 233, 242, 248, Fort Deposit, 139 249, 252, 254, 255–56, 257, 258, 261, Fort Erie, xvi, 123, 124, 126, 158, 163, 168; 263, 264, 265, 266–67, 268, 269, 270, Battle of, 163–68, 167 271, 272, 275, 289, 291, 299 Fort George, 124–26, 135, 158, 160, 168, 197 Gordon, James, 184 Fort Glass, 137 Gordon, John, 207 Fortier, Michael, Jr., 244 Gothenburg, Sweden, 144, 145, 170 Fort Jackson, xvi, 148, 207 Goulburn, Henry, 201, 203, 235 Fort Johnson, 57 Grant, Ulysses S., 5, 148 Fort Lavier, 137 Grodzinski, John, 3 Fort Leon, 226, 263 Grundy, Felix, 89 358 index

Guadeloupe, island of, 32, 33 HMS Seahorse, 229–30 Gubbins, Richard, 288, 290, 292, 293–94, HMS Shannon, 3, 128–29 295, 296, 297 HMS Sophie, xvii, 207, 210–12, 213 Gulf of Mexico, 16, 17, 33, 332n10 HMS Statira, xix, 222, 223 Gunboats. See Lake Borgne: Battle of. HMS Surprise, 194, 197 HMS Tenedos, 128 Haitian Revolution, 26–30 Hornet, 96, 126 Hall, Basil, 51 Horseshoe Bend, Battle of, xv, 145–48, Hamilton, Paul, 96, 108, 117 146, 207 Hampton, attack on, 153–56, 174, 240, How Britain Won the War of 1812, 304 303, 334n65 Houston, Sam, 147 Hanchett, John Martin, 152 Howell, Robert, 87 Harper, Robert Goodloe, 3 Hubert, Richard, 59 Harrison, William Henry, 97, 98–100, 102, Hughes, Daniel, 246 117–19, 122, 123, 130–31, 133–34 Hull, Abraham F., 161 Hartford Convention, 312 Hull, Isaac, 104–7, 115, 311 Hawkesbury, Lord, 20–21 Hull, William, 100–104, 119, 133, 185, 325n19 Hawkins, Benjamin, 138–39 Humbert, Jean, 296, 297 Heald, Nathan, 103–4 Humphreys, Salisbury, 62, 63, 64, 67, 68, Henley, John, 253, 265 69, 154 Herald, N., 97 Hickory Ground, 138, 140, 145, 148 Impetueau, 74 Hill, William, 59–60 Impressed Seaman’s Appeal, The, 46 Hinds, Thomas, 244, 245, 254, 255, 257, Isle-aux-Poix, xx, 232, 241–43, 246, 248, 266, 276 249, 263 HMS Alert, 107–8 Izard, George, 168, 187–88, 331n66 HMS Bramblet, 141 HMS Bream, 92 Jackson, Andrew, xv, xvi, xix–xxi, 5, 7, 8, 15, HMS Cambrian, 51, 53, 54, 74 137–38, 139–40, 145–48, 157, 168, 206–8, HMS Carron, 207 213, 214, 216–20, 225–27, 240–41, 243– HMS Confiance, 190 44, 245, 246, 247–48, 252–54, 257–58, HMS Detroit, 131, 132 260, 261–63, 265–66, 269, 270–71, 272, HMS Driver, 51, 53, 57 274–75, 276–77, 279, 286, 288, 290, 295– HMS Guerriere, 86, 106–7, 110, 115 97, 299, 300, 303, 308, 310, 311, 341n87, HMS Halifax, 57, 59–60, 61, 64, 68, 69 342n116, 342n119, 343n134, 343n143, HMS Hermes, 207, 211, 213, 214 347n252 HMS Leander, 51–52, 53, 54–55, 57, 67 Jackson, Francis, 80, 82–85, 91 HMS Leopard, 62–63, 69, 71, 72, 73. See Jay, John, 37 also Chesapeake-Leopard affair Jay Treaty, 23 HMS Little Belt, 87 Jefferson, Thomas, 11, 19, 20, 31–32, 34, 38, HMS Macedonian, 108–10, 115 40, 43, 48, 52, 53–54, 56, 57, 64, 66–67, HMS Melampus, 50, 57–59, 60, 61, 62, 69 68, 71, 73, 74–75, 94–95, 176, 247 HMS Orpheus, 207 Jesup, Thomas, 166 HMS Peacock, 126–27 Johnson, James, 134 HMS Plantagenet, 338n115 Johnson, Richard M., 134 HMS Queen Charlotte, 131, 132 Jones, Thomas A. C. “Tac,” xx, 227–32, 240 index 359

Jones, William, xvi, 123, 127, 130, 131, 215 Liverpool, Lord (Robert Jenkinson), 111, Jugeat, Pierre, 253, 274 143, 175–76, 177–78, 186–87, 221, 222, 234–35, 236, 305, 329n24 Kalteisen, Michael, 57 Livingston, Edward, xviii, xix, 214–15, 216, Keane, John, xix, 223, 228, 233, 241, 248, 226, 243, 298 249, 251, 255, 260–61, 263, 266, 279, Livingston, Louise, 225–26, 298 282–83, 284 Livingston, Robert, 21, 22, 30–31, 32, 34, Kelly, Henry, 173, 174 35–36 Kendall, John, 8, 347n1 Lockyer, Nicolas, xvii, 210–12, 214, 229, 231 Key, Francis Scott, xviii, 3, 199 Loomis, Stanley, 39 King, Grace, 245 Lord, Walter, 9, 304, 310 King, Rufus, 20, 21–22, 31 Lossing, Benson, 132 Kingston, 124 Louallier, Louis, 210 Louisiana Purchase, xiv, 35–36, 171, 178, LaCoste Plantation, 259–60 203–4, 222, 239, 240, 309, 310 Lafayette, Marquis de, 38, 45 Louis XV, 17 Lafitte, Jean, xv, xvii, xviii, xx, 210–12, 214– Louis XVI, 39 15, 216, 226, 244, 343n134 L’Ouverture, Toussaint, 27–30, 32, 33, 319n34 Lafitte, Pierre, xvi, xvii, xviii, xx, 210, 214–15, Love, William, 57 216, 226, 254, 262 Lundy’s Lane, Battle of, 160–61, 162, 165, Lake Borgne, xx, 15, 226, 227–28, 242, 248, 166, 168 261, 299; Battle of, xx, 228, 228–32, 240, 241, 246 MacArthur, Douglas, 10–11 Lake Champlain, 168, 176, 177, 187; Battle Macdonough, Thomas, xvii, 189–90, 311 of, xvii, 189, 189–90, 222, 234, 339n19 Mackenzie, Alexander, 172 Lake Erie, 123–26; Battle of, 131–33, 135, 136 Madison, Dolley, xvi, 182–83 Lake Ontario, 124–25 Madison, James, xvi, xviii, xix, 9, 10, 11, 12, Lake Pontchartrain, xix, 205, 220, 226, 229 17, 20, 21, 22, 31, 34–35, 47, 73–75, 76, Lake Superior, 201 79–80, 82–84, 88–89, 102, 103, 104, Lambert, John, 275, 279, 289, 290, 291, 117, 123, 141, 142, 143, 145, 176, 181, 182, 292, 294, 296–97, 299 185–86, 206, 235–36, 309, 312–13 Lansdowne, Marquis of, 236 Magna Carta, 41 Latour, Arsene LaCarriere, 226, 262, 263, Malcolm, Charles, 179 267, 276, 28 Manrique, Matteo Gonzalez, 207, 208, 217 Lawrence, James, 3, 126–30 Marie Antoinette, 39 Lawrence, William, xviii, 207, 212–14 Martin, Daniel, 58–59, 60, 61, 64, 93 Leander affair, 51–55, 57, 64, 66, 71, 74 McAuliff, Anthony, 3 Leavock, John, 284 McCarte House, 272 Leclerc, Charles, 30, 32–33 McClelland, William, 258 Lee, Richard E., 65 McKeever, Isaac, 227, 230 Lee, William, 190 McWilliams, John, 210, 211 Lenox, David, 44 Melville, Robert, 199 Lewis, William, 121 Merry, Anthony, 56 Line Jackson, 266–67, 267, 268–69, 274, Michaud, 246 285, 286 Michell, John, 290–91, 292, 293, 295, 296 Little, John, 59, 60, 61 Milan Decree, 49, 76 360 index

M iller, James, 168 Parton, James, 209, 210 Mississippi River, xiii, 16–17, 21, 25, 28, 33– Passamaquoddy Islands, 203, 237–38, 239, 34, 55, 94, 135, 156, 178, 201–2, 206, 208, 240, 307, 310, 335n71, 340n47 222, 227, 235, 236, 239, 306, 307, 309 Pass Christian, 227, 228, 229, 246 Mobile, AL, xv, xvi, xvii, xviii, xxi, 137, 139, Patriot, 49, 50 207, 212, 217, 218, 227, 301 Patterson, Daniel T., xvi, xviii, 205, 206, Monroe, James, 11, 34, 35–36, 67, 70, 215–16, 226, 227, 240, 252, 253, 258, 72–73, 87, 88, 144, 145, 181, 186, 221, 227, 266, 267, 268, 276, 277, 280, 284, 287, 238, 313 288, 288–96, 308, 345n216 Morales, Juan Ventura, 18 Pearl Harbor, 185, 304 Morgan, David, 263, 277, 287–88, 296, Pearl Island. See Isle-aux-Poix 342n119, 345n216 Pearl River, 15, 219, 232 Moselle, 174 Pensacola, FL, xiii, xix, 17, 168, 208, 216–17, Mullins, Thomas, 282, 284, 345n200 227, 253, 337n86 Murray, George, 175 Perceval, Spencer, 89, 92, 111 Percy, William, 211, 212, 213, 214 Nairne, John, 54 Perry, Oliver Hazard, 123, 124, 125–26, Napier, Charles, 152–53 130–34, 135, 136, 157, 311 Napoleon. See Bonaparte, Napoleon Pershing, John J., 5 National Intelligencer, 183, 300 Petite Coquilles, 226, 228, 229, 244 Negril Bay, xviii, xix, 223–24 Pickering, Timothy, 47 Nelson, Horatio, 42, 53, 132 Pickersgill, Caroline, 197, 335n20 New Orleans, xiii, xiv, xvi, 7, 16, 17, 19–20, Pickersgill, Mary, 197, 335n20 21, 23, 28, 32, 33–34, 35–36, 55–56, 90, Pickles, Tim, 289–90 94–95, 135, 139, 156–57, 178, 179, 201, Pierce, John, 52, 53, 54 204–6, 207–8, 209, 218, 227, 238–39, Piere, Henri, 217, 219, 338n94 252, 303; Battle of, xiv, xv–xxi, 6, 7, 11–12, Pike, Zebulon, 202 13–14, 225–300, 302, 303–4, 310, 313–14 Pilot (paper), 115 New Orleans Station, 204–5, 206, 227, Pinckney, Charles, 3, 19, 21, 24, 31, 148 336n45 Pinckney, Thomas, 148 Niagara Falls, Battle of, 160–61, 162. See Pinkney, William, 75, 76–78, 80, 82, 85, 142 also Lundy’s Lane, Battle of Pitt, William, 55, 56 Nicholls, Edward, 208, 211, 212–13, 214 Plattsburg, NY, xvii, xviii, 156, 187, 188–89, Nicholls, William, 105 222, 234 Non-Importation Act, 48 Plauche, Jean-Baptiste, 240, 246, 253, 254, Non-Intercourse Act (1809), 77–78 257, 285 Normandy, invasion of, 15, 185 Porter, David, 107–8, 311 North, George, 59 Porter, Peter, 158, 161, 166, 167–168, 311 Preddie, John, 241, 242 Orders in Council, 49, 75–76, 77, 78, 80, 84, Presque Isle, 123, 126, 130 85, 89, 92, 110, 142, 176, 233, 327n56 Prevost, George, xvii, 142, 148, 174, 176–77, 178, 187–88, 195, 200 Pakenham, Edward, xix, xx, xxi, 221, 222–23, Prieur, Denis, 260 263–64, 266, 270, 275, 277–78, 280–82, Proctor, Henry, 122, 130, 133 284, 288, 308–10, 314, 315, 343n131 Prophet, The. See Tensskwatawa (The Prophet) Parker, George, 231–32 Prophetstown, 99, 100 index 361

Quasi War, 23, 25, 49 Seventh Military District, xix, 206, 220 Queenstown, Battle of, 102–3, 160, 173 Seven Years’ War, xiii, 16 Shaw, John, 204–6 Randolph, John, 90, 91, 92, 321n5 Sibylle, 49, 50, 65 Ratford, Jenkin, 59, 60, 64, 69 Simpson, John, 92 Reilly, Robin, 9, 11, 12, 13, 290, 291, 295, 296 Smith, Harry, 183, 220, 277, 281, 292, 293, Remini, Robert, 8, 137, 290, 304 296, 309 Rennie, Robert, 283, 284–85, 290, 345n205 Smith, Robert, 60, 64, 65, 78–80, 82, 83–84 Revolutionary War, American. See Ameri- Smith, Samuel, 193, 195, 311 can Revolution Smith, Zachary F., 49, 76 Rhea, J., 97 Spain, xiii, xiv, 16–20, 21–22, 32, 138, 172, Riall, Phineas, 159, 161, 331n68 203–4, 216, 239, 318n1, 319n53 Richard, 52 Spedden, Robert, 230 Richardson, John, 122 Spencer, Robert, 241, 242 Rigolets, 205, 226, 228, 229, 230, 244 Spotts, Samuel, 282 Ripley, Eleazer, 158, 160, 161, 163, 165, 166, Squire, John, 66 332n93 St. Lawrence Seaway, 124 Ritchie, Carson I. A., 291–92, 294, 295–96 Stoddard, T. Lothrop, 26 River Raisin, Battle of the, 119–23, 121, 303 Story, Benjamin, 259, 260 Rochambeau, Donatien Marie Joseph de Strachan, John, 58–59, 60, 61, 64, 93 Vimeur, 33 Stricker, John, 195, 311 Rodgers, John, 86–87, 96, 104, 117, 175 Surtees, William, 268, 269, 271, 272, 273, Rodriguez Canal, 253, 261–262, 267, 270, 275, 280, 281, 282, 289, 309 274, 275, 285 Swallow, 174 Romanzoff, Nikolai, 144, 169 Roosevelt, Theodore, 7, 8, 103 Talledega, 139 Rose, George Henry, 73, 74, 75, 91 Talleyrand, Charles Maurice de, 23, 24–25, Ross, George, 215–16 26, 30, 31, 33, 36, 135, 157, 328n45 Ross, Robert, xvi, xviii, 179, 180–81, 183, Tallishatchee, 139 185, 194, 195, 196, 198, 199, 200, 220–21, Tattnall, Josiah, 155 248, 303, 315 Tatum, Howell, 220, 226, 289, 294 Rousseau, Augustin, 252 Taylor, Robert B., 150 Royal Naval Dockyard, 52 Tchaikovsky, Peter Ilyich, 1 Russell, Jonathan, 110, 111, 112–13, 202, Tchefuncte River, 205, 219 238, 327n56, 332n3, 340n47 Tecumseh, 98–99, 100, 102, 134, 138, 303 Russia, 126, 142–45, 148, 169, 170 Tennessee Committee of Research, 7–8, 302, 303, 308, 313, 347n1 Saint Domingo, 28, 29–30, 32–33 Tensskwatawa (The Prophet), 98, 99–100 Saint Domingue, xiv, 26–28, 240, 244, 247 Thames, Battle of the, 133–34, 133 Saint Domingue Epic, The, 26 Thirty-Ninth Regiment, 140, 147 Sappho, 175 Thomas, John, 243 Saunders, Henry, 59, 60 Thompson, Charles C. B., 266, 267 Savary, Joseph, 244, 247 Thompson, John Lewis, 155 Scott, Thomas, 255 Thornton, William, 248, 249, 251, 277, 278– Scott, W., 174 81, 282, 287–89, 290, 292, 309, 313 Scott, Winfield, 125, 157, 158–61, 163 Three Brothers, 58 362 index

Timcombe, George, 63, 64 Villere, Gabriel, xx, 250–51, 252, 254, 274 Times (London), 115, 171, 191, 222 Villere Canal, xx, 15, 242, 250, 254, 275, 277 Tippecanoe, Battle of, 98, 99–100 Villere Plantation, xx, 242, 251, 259 Tipton, John, 99 Vincent, John, 124–25 Thompkins, D. D., 161 Torrens, Henry, 175 Wagner, Henry, 240 Townshend, James, 60 Ware, William, 58–59, 60, 61, 64 Treaty of Fontainebleau, xiii, 318n1 War of 1812, The (PBS), 303–4 Treaty of Fort Jackson, xvi, 148 War of 1812 Magazine, 3 Treaty of Ghent, xx, 7, 10, 261, 304, 305, Warren, John, 148–49, 152, 154, 156, 178, 307, 308, 309, 311, 313 193 Treaty of Paris (1783), xiii, 37, 38, 40 Washington, attack on, xvi, 179–86, 190, Treaty of San Ildefonso, xiv, 25–26 191, 200, 234, 240, 312 Troup, George, 91 Washington, George, 5, 41, 43, 111; portrait Turner, Robert, 59–60 of, xvi, 182–83 Turreau, Louis Marie, 53, 54 Watts, Ambrose, 59 Twain, Mark, 12 Weekly Messenger (Boston), 141 Wellesley, Richard, 85 Ulrick, Robert, 227, 230 Wellington, Lord (Arthur Wellesley), 160, Updyke, Frank, 70–71, 82, 84, 202, 304 170, 175, 177–78, 186, 199, 221, 222, Upper Canada, 9, 10, 100, 102, 123, 125, 234–35, 314 158, 160, 325n18 Western Confederacy in the Valley of the Ursuline nuns, 246–48, 253, 254, 297, 298 Ohio, 55 USS Carolina, xvi, xx, 215, 216, 252, 253, West Florida, xiii, xiv, 17, 19, 20, 32, 34, 56, 257–58, 259, 260, 263, 264–65, 266, 273, 202, 217, 332n10 341n87, 342n126, 343n131 Wharton (town), 220 USS Chesapeake, 3, 49, 60, 61–64, 65, 66, Whitby, Henry, 52, 53, 54, 74, 154 68, 70, 72, 87, 92–93, 109–10, 127–29, White, Liberty, 97 132. See also Chesapeake-Leopard affair Wilkinson, James, 174, 204 USS Constellation, 149, 150 Wilkinson, Jesse, 92–93 USS Constitution, 104–7, 110, 115, 117 Winchester, James, 119, 121–23 USS Essex, 96, 107–8, 109 Winder, William, 181, 182, 193 USS John Adams, 96, 149 Wisher, Grace, 197 USS Lawrence, 131, 132, 135 Wood, E. D., 122–23 USS Louisiana, 205, 264, 265, 268, 270, Woodbine, George, xv, 208, 213 281, 343n131 Wright, Robert, 70 USS Niagara, 131, 132, 135 USS President, 86–87, 96, 117 XYZ Affair, 3, 24 USS Saratoga, 190 USS Spitfire, 86 York, Upper Canada, 124, 202 USS United States, 96, 108–9, 117 You, Dominique, 216, 273 Young, Eliza, 197 Vagabonds Act, 41 Young, Margaret, 197 Van Renssaelaer, Stephen, 102