Gales lived that difference. Though a friend of the Jefferson administration and favorable to Madison’s, Gales didn’t run an official state or government paper. The thought was repulsive. After all, his father had fled Britain because he wasn’t free to criticize authority.
Over the years, Gales had freely published his opinion and those of others. May 1814 was no different, as he wrote in this analysis: “What, though the enemy has taken possession of some islands in the Chesapeake? It is absurd to suppose that government can fortify every point, island, or nook along an extensive coast.” He concluded that “the neighboring militia must protect them; and though their officers are principally federalists, yet they are not of the Boston stamp.”
Some editors in the Baltimore press evoked a similar sentiment and determination: “We have powder and ball, muskets and prepared ammunition enough to kill all the Englishmen in or coming to America. Madison’s capital may be threatened, or the destruction of Baltimore talked of, but we guess they will not be burnt at present.”
Gales proclaimed: “As to his near approach to the capital, which has been hinted at, we have no idea of his attempting to reach this vicinity; and if he does, we have no doubt he will meet such a reception as he did at Craney Island. The enemy knows better what he is about than to trust himself abreast or on this side of Fort Washington.”
Many hoped that Gales was right.
Pesky politics also continued to infect Barney as he sought to build his fleet. He reported to Secretary Jones from St. Leonard’s Creek. “Yesterday a gentleman of this county by the name of Parren (a violent Federalist) who lives at the mouth of the creek, came up, and said that himself and [a] brother had been taken and carried on board Commodore Barrie’s ship.”
Parren’s politics were obviously pro-British. He may have been on Cockburn’s spy payroll. His mission was to inform Barney and the local inhabitants of the British admiral’s demands, which were straight from Cockburn’s Havre de Grace playbook: “That if they remained at home quietly they should not be molested, but if on landing he found their houses deserted he would burn them all.”
Barney was furious because Parren had the audacity to brag that he planned to return to the enemy ship after leaving Barney. What did the commodore do? He had the traitor arrested.
Barney also learned from Parren that several other Americans had voluntarily boarded enemy ships. Nothing infuriated him more than this lack of patriotism goaded by a payoff for pocketbooks.
The commodore perceived that he was outnumbered nearly two to one, with the British having 800 to 900 men and Barney having only 450. Once again the problem was politics. Most of the officers of the local militia were Federalists who were unwilling to help Madison’s Republican war.
“The militia have all been discharged, except one company, the fact is, their officers (mostly feds.) did not encourage their men to act, and such conduct only encouraged the enemy to commit depredations along the river.”
A few days later, Barney reported to Jones of another incident. “The enemy has come up the creek once or twice after dark, threw a few rockets and shot, and retired, but with no effect.”
How Barney needed help! Without it, would he ever break through the stalemate and accomplish his mission to be a shield for the Chesapeake? Would he have to abandon his barges and make a land trek to safety? How he hoped not. If only reinforcements would come!
Drat those American papers. Was it true? Had Cochrane taken his eye off the target? Was he now aiming for New Hampshire instead of Washington City? Cockburn had to do something.
“The American papers tell me you have determined in the first instance to attack Portsmouth and they add that they are quite prepared to receive you there, I doubt their being so anywhere,” Cockburn wrote to Cochrane. He lobbied his cause. “I am sure they are not equal to defend themselves against a determined attack in any part of this neighborhood.”
Bolstering his argument, Cockburn cited Madison’s lack of finances and America’s weak militia system, saying, “and the government not being able to obtain money to go on with is not likely to improve their means of resistance.”
He had at least one good reason to smile. The admiralty wanted him to stay in the Chesapeake, as he added in a postscript. “I am rather surprised at learning by your letter that my ideas were erroneous respecting your having brought permission from the admiralty for my return to England.”
Cockburn was more than happy to stay. Maybe, just maybe, with a little more convincing, he could finally seize the best treasure of all: Washington City.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Superabundant Force
The summer of 1814 would bring the biggest and worst news ever to hit the newspapers of Washington City and every city in America.
Before that news arrived, however, General John Van Ness decided that the time was right to make a bold move. He approached General Armstrong and again pressed him on the issue of defending Washington City. Constructing a battery to protect the Potomac south of Washington was essential, as he conveyed. But he believed they needed more. Who knows where Cockburn would send his raiders next?
Why not set up “the convenience and importance of a central camp, intermediate between Baltimore, Annapolis, Washington, Alexandria, Georgetown, and the neighboring towns and country?” Van Ness asked.
He waited for a reply. Once again Armstrong offered assurances, though orally, not in writing. Despite his words, his tone was as indifferent and dismissive as ever.
Van Ness left the war secretary more frustrated and angry than when he’d come. He knew he wasn’t alone. He had heard several civic leaders, local business people, and militia members express similar sentiments. Many were losing confidence in Secretary Armstrong. Why didn’t he do more? Was Canadian glory to blame? Was Armstrong so focused on the Canadian campaign that he failed to see what was right in front of him? So it seemed.
A recent example had rankled Van Ness. Several weeks earlier, in April, Colonel Clinch had arrived in Washington with regular troops. Thrilled to see members of the U.S. military on the town’s green, Van Ness had hoped that they would stay. They didn’t. Instead, Armstrong sent them to the northern front.
Why was the war secretary failing to bolster Washington City’s defenses? Was the problem something deep, such as a bias against the South? Was Armstrong too much of a New Yorker to believe that the British would care much for a fledgling southern city, no matter that it was the nation’s capital? Had he never fully accepted the relocation of the capital from New York to Philadelphia and now here?
As Van Ness battled Armstrong’s indifferent attitude, he had one hope. Local bankers had recently approached the war secretary with a plan. They would pool their money and offer the U.S. government a loan of $200,000 to use for building defenses for Washington. Armstrong had agreed. Knowing the money was coming, surely this would spur the War Department to act decisively to fortify Washington City. Surely.
But as Van Ness thought about it, he wondered if he should try someone else. Perhaps he should also approach Monroe, who had been warm to him on previous occasions when the two had discussed the topic. A Revolutionary War veteran and a Virginian, Monroe seemed to better understand. Too bad he wasn’t war secretary instead of Armstrong.
Having returned from a brief break at Montpelier, Madison knew it was time to get down to the business of the war as summer began in 1814. He held many cabinet meetings in the East Room, the room adjacent to his office. When John and Abigail Adams had moved into the White House in 1800, they had found this room unfinished and in need of plastering. Abigail also discovered that the house lacked a fenced-in area necessary for drying laundry. Hence, she had used this room to hang the president’s underwear and conceal it from public view.
Jefferson then divided the room, with part of it for storage and the other part serving as the sleeping quarters of Meriwether Lewis, the man whom he groomed to lead the first U.S. Western expedition. When Madison took over th
e White House, he had the East Room split into two spaces, with a space for Edward Coles’s sleeping quarters and the other as a cabinet room. His cabinet deliberated among wallpapered, plastered walls with a window that overlooked the expansive South Lawn.
Within this comfortable setting and a great view, their first meeting that summer took place on June 7, where they debated several strategies for the summer campaign in Canada. As usual, the challenge of creating an effective supply line made plans as difficult as they were costly.
Remembering the success of Commander Perry, who had built several vessels the previous summer, they decided to order the construction of fourteen to fifteen new armed ships to patrol the St. Lawrence River. They hoped an advance toward Montreal would force the British to abandon Lake Champlain.
The cabinet gatherings continued. On June 23 and June 24, Madison held his most important meeting since launching the war, on the topic of impressment. Though Armstrong had told King months earlier that Madison had given up everything in the instructions he’d given to his peace commissioners, it wasn’t true.
While Madison didn’t need the vote or consent of his cabinet to draft new instructions for peace to his commissioners—who were now going to meet in Ghent, Belgium, instead of Sweden—and could have taken charge on his own, he deferred to their judgment on this issue. Was it time to remove impressment from the demands for peace with the British? This led to a robust debate of several observations and questions.
Because the British no longer needed men to fight Napoleon, would they now continue impressing U.S. sailors? If Madison took the issue off the table as a condition for peace, would their commissioners have a greater chance of getting a peace treaty? Would the American people understand his choice?
The president put forth the question to his cabinet. “Shall a treaty of peace, silent on the subject of impressment be authorized?”
His cabinet struck down the idea in a three-to-two vote, with Secretary of State James Monroe, Attorney General Richard Rush, and Treasury Secretary George Campbell voting no and General Armstrong and Navy Secretary Jones voting aye.
Little did they know that Albert Gallatin’s vote, far away in Europe, would soon count more than any other.
Because he first went to sea as a child and commanded his first boat as a teen, Joshua Barney had a bit in common with Cockburn, whose naval career began in a similar fashion. But that’s where their commonalities ended. Barney, a native of Maryland, had commanded privateers during the American Revolution for the Continental Navy.
He had even served in the French Navy and received a snuffbox from Napoleon with allegorical images of flags. By 1802 he had returned to America as a commodore. With a flair for wearing long hair and bearing a dashing demeanor, he also carried with him some charm.
As the summer of 1814 progressed, Barney knew that his flying squadron had accomplished at least one goal: distracting the enemy. The first distraction had come on June 1 at the Patuxent River’s Cedar Point. There Barney had played hide and seek with British Captain Barrie’s boats.
Just the day before, Cockburn had “received intelligence that Commodore Barney has again come down with his flotilla to the neighborhood of the Potomac.” Cockburn had responded by sending an auxiliary unit to Barrie, whose force included the seventy-four-gun St. Lawrence and other, smaller ships.
Barney’s force was by no means equal, but it was respectable nonetheless. By this time he had twenty-five vessels and 450 men. When Barrie spotted Barney’s fleet, he chased them. Soon Barney saw that the St. Lawrence had grounded because of its size. Ever the dashing captain, he took advantage and chased Barrie’s smaller boats.
The winds varied throughout the day, favoring both sides at alternating times. Rain soon poured and troubled both. Yet, as Barney’s boats closed in, he discovered that the British had another sizable armed ship, the British Dragon, which featured seventy-four guns. Quickly realizing that he was no match, Barney turned his squadron into the Patuxent River between Drum Point and Cedar Point. Though firing at the British boats that followed him, he was too far away to successfully hit them.
Known as the Battle of Cedar Point, this contest was a draw and a test for both sides. Barney, however, made an astute observation, which he shared with Secretary Jones. Their rockets “will be their mode of warfare against the flotilla.”
What would happen next? Could he keep up the game of cat and mouse, of swordfish to Cockburn’s hammerhead shark? Would that at least distract Cockburn from whatever he had planned? Playing prey to Cockburn’s jaws wasn’t the scenario Barney longed for, but it was a plan B, an alternative that would help the cause.
With Napoleon out of power, King was convinced that England would make a quick peace with America. Because the U.S. Senate was out of session, King couldn’t discuss the issue with his fellow senators in person. Hence, he wrote letters from his home on Long Island. He chose to share his view that the war would end soon in a letter to Senator Gore. He also complained about the extreme factions who disagreed with them. “It is manifest that the democratic party are disappointed, and confounded, by the overthrow of Bonaparte—they affect to be, and perhaps are, alarmed at the politics of England, and assert that she will be indisposed to peace with us.”
Trusting Parliament more than Madison’s ability, King explained why he thought that peace with Britain was coming quickly. Yet, he feared that the president would ruin a peace treaty by tying the hands of his commissioners through overly restrictive instructions and demands. As he explained, “I am of a different opinion, and still believe that we shall have peace, provided that the envoys are not limited in their powers.”
His confidence in Britain was based on Parliament’s economic motives. “I think England, as well as the maritime allies, must desire peace between America and England—the market of the U.S. is of more value to England than that of all Europe.”
England’s need for raw goods, such as cotton supplied by American farmers, was not the only factor. All of Europe needed U.S. trade to recover from the Napoleonic wars. “The continent is impoverished and cannot pay for the supplies England could furnish.”
With Napoleon out of power, other countries should jump at the chance to buy goods from America. “Spain, Portugal, France, Holland, Russia and perhaps others will want our ships and services in resuming their trade, into which, at least temporarily, we should immediately enter, were we not involved in a foolish and unprofitable war.”
Though King doubted Madison and his cabinet’s competence, he, too, didn’t want peace on just any terms. “I mean peace consistent with the just rights of the country. I cannot desire peace on other terms.”
Tapping his diplomatic and legal expertise, King figured out what those terms should be. “We must not relinquish territory (the Louisiana boundary is an open question), we must not yield any maritime rights appertaining to the sovereignty; we must therefore retain the right to use the ocean for navigation and fishery.”
He also recognized that it shouldn’t require much time to figure out if true peace was obtainable, as he wrote to Senator Gore. “A long time cannot be wanted to ascertain whether a peace can be made—so that the result will, in all probability be known here before October.”
King believed that continuing the war was futile and that America should pull back its plans against Canada. “The president must now be convinced that he can gain nothing by prosecuting the war; his tone may continue to be lofty, but his terms will lower.”
Finances once again surfaced in King’s assessment. “Not only can nothing be gained by prosecuting the war, but the present administration cannot go on with it if they would, because they have omitted to lay taxes, and will be unable to make loans.”
Meanwhile Cockburn’s desire to hit Washington received a boost. The news came from one of his most enthusiastic and reliable officers, Captain Barrie. “I pushed on towards Marlborough, where I understood there were several stores of tobacco and other property,” Ba
rrie began in his latest letter to Cockburn, “and as Marlborough is near the seat of government, I thought an attack on this town would be a sad annoyance to the enemy.”
Instead of fighting, the militia and inhabitants of Marlborough fled to the woods. From Barrie’s perspective, seizing Marlborough was as easy as fishing for flounder in the Chesapeake: “And we were allowed to take quiet possession of a town admirably situated for defense, here we passed the night without molestation though only eighteen miles from Washington.”
The admiral couldn’t have been more delighted to read Barrie’s report. If Marlborough was that easy to capture, once enough reinforcements arrived, nothing could stop them from capturing the ultimate prize.
Within days, Cockburn picked up his pen and wrote to Admiral Cochrane. “I am decidedly of opinion that about the seat of government and in the upper parts of the Chesapeake is where your operations may be commenced to most effect.”
He added with great assurance: “But the country is in general in a horrible state. It only requires a little firm and steady conduct to have it completely at our mercy.”
Then he noted his pleasure with his newest recruits. These runaway slaves, about 300, continued to train at Tangier Island. After organizing them into different tasks and conducting drills, Cockburn’s views had improved. “They have induced me to alter the bad opinion I had of the whole of their race and I now really believe these we are training, will neither show want of zeal or courage when employed by us in attacking their old masters.”
Though they’d given the runaway slaves red uniforms in hopes that the brilliant jackets would attract more to join them, Cockburn knew their numbers weren’t strong enough. Hence he put in a plug for what he longed for more than anything: regular British soldiers. “And [I] can truly assure you that every man has done his best, had I had more force at my disposal more should have been done.”
The Burning of the White House Page 16
