Prelude to Glory, Vol. 9

by Ron Carter

  Madison stared at his hands for a moment before asking, “In your opinion, why have negotiations failed so badly?”

  “Because both England and France see us as more of a nuisance than a sovereign nation. Napoleon intends conquering England. England means to stop him. We’re three thousand miles away and are going through the throes of learning to take our place among nations. They’re never going to give us respect just because we’re here. We’re going to have to get it the same way they did. Stand up for ourselves. It usually takes a bloody nose to get respect from a bully.”

  Madison nodded. “What of the Chesapeake affair? I’ve demanded satisfaction, and they are paying no attention. Do I drop it?”

  “No. They were wrong in that matter, and a dozen others. I would not yield on matters where they’re wrong and we are right.”

  “That was my conclusion.” Madison took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, thoughtfully, before going on. “We spoke once before about Canada. In my view, taking Canada would accomplish two things. It would cut off an indispensable source of lumber and other commodities that England must have, and it would bring the British to the bargaining table to get Canada back. My question of you is, am I right?”

  For several seconds Matthew closed his eyes in deep concentration before he spoke. “I doubt it. Our army is unprepared for a major engagement. And we don’t know what to expect from the Indians. Worse, I doubt that taking Canada would stop the shipping trade from there to England. I think the smuggling would continue. It’s too profitable, and there are too many people up there on both sides who have higher regard for wealth than anything else. I don’t think taking Canada would stop what’s going on.”

  “You think it would be a mistake, then?”

  “I do.”

  “You mentioned the Indians. What of them? Should we consider them an enemy and engage them in war?”

  “I would not. The Indians are only interested in getting back the land we have taken from them. They will side with the British so long as they believe the British can help them do it, and the British are using that as leverage to raise the Indians against us. The British have no intention of giving them the land. They will use the Indians against us, and if they win, that will be the end of it.”

  A puzzled look crossed Madison’s small, heart-shaped face. “Are the Indians so blind they can’t see that?”

  Matthew answered slowly. “In times like these most of us get lost in anger over the injustices and insanity of lust for power and treasure. We lose sight of the violations of the fundamentals that caused it all. England and France each want to rule the world. Americans want lands rightfully belonging to the Indians. It’s all wrong, but we all find justification for it, and the result is conflict. War. I don’t think we can expect it to stop. We can only try to rectify our mistakes and move on. Maybe that’s what America is all about. Maybe that’s what the Constitution you created intended. Am I right?”

  For a time Madison sat silent, without moving. “Before the Almighty, I hope you are. I hope you are.”

  John was frozen, his mind reeling with the depths into which it had been plunged. He glanced at his father, seeing a man he never knew existed.

  Madison eased back in his chair. “Is there anything else you think I should hear? Anything at all?”

  Matthew nodded his head. “Only one thing, Mister President. I would ask you to be certain there is no other option before you declare war. Some of us have much to lose.”

  Madison turned to look at John. The three of them remained silent, but none of them missed the portent in Matthew’s request.

  Madison looked back at Matthew. “You have my solemn promise.” He rose. “I think I’ve covered the matters I intended. As always, I stand in your debt. We will talk again, I’m sure.”

  He walked around his desk and grasped John’s hand, then Matthew’s. “You will give my best regards to your wives and families? I think of you people often.”

  “We shall. Carry our regards to your wife.”

  Madison smiled and started for the door with Matthew and John following. “I shall. She is just becoming acquainted with Washington society. Seems to enjoy it, but she seems to enjoy society wherever she is.”

  There was genuine warmth and sincerity in his voice and a sense of relief as he reached for the large brass door handle.

  “Have a safe journey home.”

  Notes

  In the time period framed in this chapter, there were a great number of policies, embargoes, Orders in Council, and decrees issued by France, England, the United States, Russia, and other sovereigns, many of them illegal, most of them aimed at establishing superiority in the commercial trade at sea at the expense of all other nations. It would not be possible to list all of them in this chapter, or even in the remainder of this book. For that reason, only those most critical to an understanding of the commercial war then existing on the high seas have been referred to. The impact of this horrendous conflict resulted in the loss of eighty-six million American dollars in export trade from 1807 to 1808. For an explanation of these decrees and embargoes, as they are set forth in this chapter, see Hickey, The War of 1812, pp. 10, 18–21, with the loss figures to America’s export trade appearing on p. 21; Stagg, Mister Madison’s War, pp. 22, 28–29; Wills, James Madison, pp. 80–88; Roosevelt, The Naval War of 1812, p. 5.

  James Madison was inaugurated president in March, 1809, Wills, James Madison, p. 80.

  Boston

  December 1809

  CHAPTER VII

  * * *

  The temperature had risen in the still, wintry morning air of Boston town, and a little after one o’clock a thick, gentle snowfall of great, wet flakes settled over the peninsula to lock it in a quiet hush. By midafternoon the city had magically transformed from the gray of winter to a pristine wonderland of white. Citizens hurried through the streets with their hats pulled low and their coat collars turned up, smiling for no reason they could think of, spirits lifted by the rare beauty of trees and bushes and fences that had been naked and gray and stark now dressed in radiant white. Children coming from school shouted and cavorted, and threw snowballs at anything and anybody. People passing in the streets called at them to stop, and turned to take the frozen missiles on their backs, and laughed as they hurried on.

  By late afternoon the Dunson family had gathered in the mansion once owned by Doctor Henry Thorpe, inherited from him by Kathleen before her marriage to Matthew. In the years following, it had become their home, and on special occasions the central gathering place for the children and grandchildren of the aging matriarch, Margaret Dunson. None knew why Matthew had called them all together for supper on this snowy night; they only knew it meant gathering at two great tables, one in the dining room, the other in the parlor, covered with white linen and porcelain plates and silverware and steaming bowls of meats and vegetables and condiments and cold buttermilk from the root cellar and hot cider from the stove. The grownups would sit at one table and the children at the other, teasing, pointing, creating an uproar, while their parents watched and scolded and gave up hope of stopping it. The house would be filled with aromas not to be forgotten and endless chatter. At the end there would be a great pudding, or stacks of tarts, or custards and pies, and endless talk. The babies would be taken to the master bedroom to sleep on the great bed, and no one would want to leave until the striking of the big clock on the mantle said the hour was late.

  At six o’clock the tables were spread, and at Matthew’s direction, they all knelt beside their chairs. Uncle Adam returned thanks to the Almighty for their blessings and the bounties of the table, and they all took their seats and dug in.

  At seven o’clock Matthew pushed himself back from the table, patted his full paunch, raised a hand, and waited for quiet.

  “Our thanks to all who prepared this. It was special. Now let’s all help clear the tables.”

  In short order the leftover food was taken to the root cellar, the last of the dis
hes was dried and stacked in the heavy oak cupboards, the dishwater was thrown out the back door into the snow, and fresh water was heating on the stove to wash the bowls that would be used later to serve a piping hot custard. Matthew called to his two grown daughters.

  “Linda. Louise. Would you gather the children into the parlor and tend them for a few minutes? Read to them?”

  Margaret said, “Read them the story of the birth of Jesus. The book of Luke.”

  Matthew nodded. “That would be good.”

  The two girls called to the children, turned a deaf ear to their arguments, and herded them into the parlor to sit them down. Linda opened the huge, leather-bound family Bible, laid it on her lap, and opened it to the book of Luke. Louise pressed her fingers to her lips and whispered “Shhhhhh,” and the children quieted as Linda began to read.

  Matthew gave a head signal to the others. “The library,” he said quietly and led the way. Two of the walls were covered with dark oak shelves, holding hundreds of books. A great stone fireplace dominated the third wall, with low flames dancing from hardwood logs. On the fourth wall were three paintings, two of great sailing ships, and one of George Washington. Matthew took his place behind the huge oak desk and gestured, and the ten adults took seats while Matthew remained standing.

  “We won’t be long. I asked you here tonight because I think we need to get ready for what is coming. You all know John and I spent time with President Madison in Washington, D.C., at his request, and got back two days ago.”

  He stopped and watched his family glance at each other, then settle.

  “He did most of the talking. He reviewed the state of affairs as it now stands between England and the United States. He included France and Russia. He went into the embargoes and the decrees and the orders of council issued by just about everybody, which have made international shipping into a nightmare. Most of the shipping done by our company is confined to ports on this continent, so we haven’t felt it like some other shipping lines have. We’ve lost a few ships as you all know, and insurance rates are cutting into profits, but we’re surviving.”

  He stopped and drew a breath. “But that’s not what I called you here for. He had John and me there to give the best answer we could on two questions.”

  The room became silent. No one moved.

  “He wanted our opinion on the question of taking Canada. Invading. Conquering it. Taking it away from England. His reasoning was that for England to survive, it needs lumber and masts to maintain its navy, and all the embargoes stop them from getting it from the United States. They are getting it from Canada. It was his idea that if we were to occupy Canada and cut off that source, we could cripple the English navy and bring England to the bargaining table to end the commercial war.”

  There was murmuring for a time, and Matthew waited until it stopped.

  “He wanted my opinion on whether taking Canada was the answer.”

  Billy interrupted. “You mean war?”

  “Yes. War.”

  The women gasped, and Matthew stopped to wait while open talk dwindled.

  “I told him no, I did not think it was. He had John’s report and those two big ledgers John brought back from his adventure up north there on his desk, and in my mind there’s no question. No matter who occupies Canada, the English or the United States, the profits coming from the sale of lumber and other commodities up there are so enormous that men and ships would go right on with the trade, no matter what the law says. The ledgers John brought back are filled with evidence that right now, today, there is a network of smugglers and black- marketeers operating up there who are making astronomical fortunes. I can see no way to stop it. So I told President Madison that taking Canada was not the answer.”

  Adam raised a hand. “Does President Madison understand the waterways up there? The St. Lawrence? The Richelieu? The Great Lakes? They connect thousands of miles of space with a thin population. Does he know how difficult it would be to occupy all of it?”

  Matthew shook his head. “Remember, President Madison has never commanded an army. Or a navy. Never borne arms. Never been in combat. He is a master at theory and politics—even a genius—but is lacking in the practical. That’s why he had me there.”

  Caleb rounded his mouth and blew air and muttered, “May the Almighty protect us from theorists, politicians, and geniuses.”

  Matthew could not stifle a grin, and Billy chuckled out loud. Matthew went on.

  “He asked about the Indians. Should we attack and conquer them? I told him the Indians want only to get the return of their lands—the lands taken from them by us Americans. The British are making promises to them that if they will support the British against us, the British will get their lands for them. The truth is, the British have no such intentions, but they are willing to make the promises so they can use the Indians as a weapon against us. If we attack the Indians, we’ll have to fight England.”

  Matthew stopped. For several seconds he labored with his thoughts and then continued.

  “He wanted to know about war. Could we restore peace and common sense to our dealings with the British and the French without war?”

  Instantly all six women sat upright, focused, waiting.

  Matthew hesitated for a moment, and then laid it before them. “I told him no, eventually it will likely come to war.”

  Margaret jerked a hand up, her aged face alive, voice too high, eyes on fire. “No! No more war. It only leads to another war. I won’t let you go. I watched my John go, and I lost him. You can’t go, Matthew, nor Adam or Caleb or John. I won’t let you go! Do you hear?”

  Matthew’s voice was filled with pain and deep compassion as he gently spoke to his mother. “I know, Mother. I know. I was there with Father. I’ve seen war. So have Billy and Caleb. I’ll do everything in my power to avoid it. I promise. But if it must come, we have to be prepared.”

  Margaret shook her head violently. “No. It’s evil. The Almighty will curse us.”

  “We’ll do the best we can, Mother, I give you my promise.”

  Margaret mumbled under her breath and settled, and Matthew went on.

  “I told President Madison what I just told Mother. We’re a young country and just learning our way. France and England see us as a nuisance, not a sovereign nation. They’re going to keep us under their hammer as long as they can. We must choose to accept that, or to stand up to them and gain respect. And that means going to war.”

  He looked at Kathleen, then his sisters, and his brother’s wives, and continued.

  “I also told President Madison we have two duties we must perform. First, we have to exhaust every possibility of avoiding war. That’s what the United States and our Constitution are all about—honorable peace. Only as a last resort do we consider war. And I told him that if it becomes clear that’s the only answer, we must prepare for it. The nation has a duty to save as many of its citizens as it can.”

  Margaret was sitting with her face set, unyielding. The five younger wives and mothers were erect, stiff, waiting.

  “If it comes to it, I think much of the war will be fought at sea. If that happens, I don’t think we have a chance. I’ve inquired, and right now, the United States navy has fewer than twenty ships that can carry cannon. The British have over six hundred gunboats. It’s true that most of their navy is in Europe, engaged in trying to stop the French navy, but should war come with the United States, many of them would be sent here. If the contest between England and France comes to an end, the British could send their entire navy over here. Six hundred gunboats against fewer than twenty.”

  Laura gasped and went white with fear. “John? You’re talking about taking my John to war against six hundred English war ships?”

  Barbara seized Caleb’s arm and exclaimed, “I won’t let him go!”

  Matthew raised a hand for silence and waited until the talk died.

  “Let me finish. President Madison agreed with me. By that I mean he promised he would do everything
in his power to negotiate this to a peaceful conclusion with those European powers before he would consider war. And I believe he will. There is hope that eventually, somehow, he will succeed.”

  Adam asked, “And if he doesn’t?”

  Matthew shook his head. “We must get ready. It won’t happen soon. It may never happen. But if it does—when it does—we have to be ready. In this room are some of the best-trained naval officers in this country. There will be need for you. And perhaps for me.”

  Kathleen exclaimed, “You’ve done more than your share already!”

  Matthew looked her in the eye. “My father has. I don’t know if I have.”

  Kathleen swallowed hard and said no more. Matthew went on.

  “I thought it was on my shoulders to bring you here and share this. Think on it. Get your minds ready. Each of you will have to decide what you’ll do. Nothing will be worse than to find ourselves in a war unprepared. The cost of that would be more than any of us could bear.”

  He waited, and for a time those in the room were lost in their own thoughts, their own fears. Billy broke the silence.

  “Anything else?”

  Matthew nodded. “One thing. What I’ve said is only my opinion, and I could be wrong. I hope I am. All we can do is watch and wait and get ready.”

  Billy stood and reached to help Brigitte from her chair. “We’ll know soon enough.”

  They all stood except Margaret. The men stood quietly for a time, thoughtful, saying little, reflective, while the women spoke all at once, hands thrust against their chests, voices raised. Matthew gave them time to vent their fears and gain their balance before he broke in.

  “Let’s get back out with the children. We’ve still got custard to serve, and I imagine Linda and Louise can use some help about now.”

  Margaret struggled to rise. “You tell Mister Madison that none of you are going to fight his war. You tell him!”

  Matthew walked around his desk and leaned over to gently put his hands on his mother’s shoulders. “I’ll tell him, Mother. Let me help you up.”