For Honour's Sake (50 page)

Castlereagh replied that he objected to Goulburn's inserting this additional word. It was not, he said, Britain's intent “to preclude the Americans from conquering the Indians who might be at war with them and acquiring territory by conquest as a restriction of this nature would expose them to invasion from the Indians from which there would be no redress.” If the point was discussed, he instructed Goulburn to “disclaim such a view of the subject.”

Goulburn was infuriated by this order and poured out his thoughts in a letter to Lord Bathurst. If the Americans were to be allowed to conquer Indian territory at will, he said, the question should be easily settled. “The Americans will I am sure be ready to assign a boundary if they are told that they may conquer though they may not purchase the Territory within …. Causes of War will always be found for they almost always exist and the only difference in the situation of Canada will be that its frontier will be laid open by a conquering American Army under General Harrison instead of by Treaties for Sale as heretofore …. I do not quite see the justice of Lord Castlereagh's distinction…. In other instances in which Barriers of a similar kind have been created (in the low countries for instance) it was never conceived that either country could destroy that Barrier by conquest whatever injuries she might sustain from the inhabitants within it and surely if the Indian Territory is made a barrier it ought to have a similar exemption. America has modes of punishing the Indians more effective than the
occupation of their Territory: indeed the occupation of territory is no punishment: for an Indian nation has always heretofore been in the habit of indemnifying itself for an encroachment of this nature by invading a neighbouring nation more remote from the original encroacher—The arrangement too will operate unfairly against us—If an American Indian nation injures us we cannot attack them because they are within the limits of the United States and remonstrance is our only mode of obtaining redress.” All this would provide the Americans excuse to eliminate these Indians and thus come up against the Canadian frontier. While cautioning Bathurst to keep his letter quite
private,
he implored the secretary for war and the colonies to get the cabinet—which Castlereagh indicated had approved this idea—to reconsider. He also wondered, since the Americans had not yet objected to Goulburn's original definition of the limits on expansion, how “far ought we to reduce our demand if they do not make the objection?”
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T
he August 19 meeting in the monastery lasted barely an hour, ending in a shouting match. Henry Goulburn alternately read or summarized Castlereagh's instructions. Between Quebec and Halifax, Goulburn said the British had in mind “a mere road … which would take off a small corner of the province of Maine.” The British demands were really moderate, he noted.

Better able to check his temper than the others, Albert Gallatin jumped in before either John Quincy Adams or Henry Clay could speak. What did the British intend for the American citizens living west of the Treaty of Greenville boundary? Perhaps 100,000 in the territories of Michigan, Illinois, and part of Ohio State would be affected. The treaty, Goulburn replied, was a basis for discussion. The greater populations might warrant an adjustment of the line, but if that could not be agreed, they might have to leave.

“Undoubtedly they must shift for themselves,” Dr. William Adams snorted.

James Bayard asked whether the Indian clauses remained a
sine qua non,
which the British affirmed. Was the Great Lakes proposal also
a sine qua non?
Dr. Adams responded, “One
sine qua non
at a time is enough. It will be time enough to answer your question when you have disposed of that we have given you.”

Gallatin mentioned English newspaper reports that the British had occupied Moose Island in Passamaquoddy Bay. Was their government
intending to keep it? Goulburn said “it was a part of the province of Nova Scotia; that they did not even consider it a subject for discussion” and that he could “demonstrate in the most unanswerable manner that it belonged to them.”

“Might as well contest [our] right to Northamptonshire,” Dr. Adams barked.

If America was denied the right to militarize the Great Lakes, did the British intend to exercise that right? The British commissioners told Gallatin that “they certainly did.”

John Quincy Adams, seething, curtly stated that he did not want to conference further until the British set their proposal in writing. This was agreed, and the Americans committed to provide a written response before the next meeting. Bayard, surprised by the hard British line, wondered, if the conference were suspended, whether Goulburn would return immediately to England. “Yes,” the young man replied, “and I suppose you will take a trip to America.” As the meeting ended, the Americans learned that Castlereagh was in the city.
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No sooner had the Americans departed than Castlereagh strode into the room. He and the commissioners thought the session had gone surprisingly well. Rather than challenging the British demands, the Americans had merely sought clarification. Goulburn had avoided mentioning Castlereagh's point that the Americans could gain by conquest what they would be prohibited from purchasing. The Americans had failed to press for details, apparently believing they were to be denied any avenue to acquire territory.
²

The news from North America's western frontier was, from the British perspective, favourable. Although the Americans had established forts on the upper Mississippi in 1813 that challenged British dominance, by the summer of 1814 most had either been abandoned or captured. Prairie du Chien, at the junction of the Wisconsin and Mississippi, had come back under British control in early July. This, combined with the British resurgence on Lake Huron, ensured the strong allegiance of the still potent Indian allies. As the man in the government most familiar with the political and military complexities of the war in North America, the undersecretary for war and the colonies was determined
not to undermine this alliance. Hence, he would not raise Castlereagh's compromise unless the foreign secretary insisted.

Goulburn assured Castlereagh that the Americans “were disposed both to treat and sign on these arrangements” and the slight expansions of British North America's border. Having voiced “no surprise or repugnance … to any of the Suggestions,” if the British stood firm, the Americans would acquiesce.
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Castlereagh was less optimistic, worried that the war drifted toward a purely territorial conflict for parts of North America that Britain little needed. Adding more trackless wilderness to the empire hardly warranted the inherent costs. There was also the nagging fear that they engaged in a war unlikely to be lost but equally impossible to win.

Writing Prime Minister Liverpool, Castlereagh pondered compromises that might lead the American commissioners to enter into a provisional agreement that included an Indian peace and surrendered Passamaquoddy Bay and the road link between Quebec and Halifax but left Indian boundaries for later discussion. While the American commissioners might agree to that, Castlereagh very much doubted President Madison and his executive would concur. The negotiation process was all a muddle, because the Atlantic Ocean's breadth prevented the American government responding in a timely manner.

The foreign secretary briefly considered meeting the Americans directly and would likely have done so had they requested it. But, he informed Liverpool, “they did not call upon or desire to see me, and I thought my originating an interview would be considered objectionable by our own Commissioners.”
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But the Americans had never considered that Castlereagh desired direct contact. “We did not see him,” Adams wrote Louisa, “but at the conference it is scarcely a figure of speech to say that we felt him. Our opponents were not only charged fourfold with obnoxious substance, they threw off much of the suavity of form which they had observed before.”
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The British commissioners were deluded in thinking their American counterparts could be bullied into submission. Interrupted in the middle of a private letter to James Monroe by the meeting, Clay immediately afterward added a postscript. It would “be an unpardonable insult” to
present the British proposals to the government. “The pretensions of … Britain do not admit of deliberation.” Clay thought the British unlikely to terminate the conference, instead hoping the Americans would make the definitive break. Failing that, the talks could probably be protracted, but to what purpose? He suspected the British desired merely to keep the Americans at the table until some major defeat pushed them into accepting these outrageous demands. “The reliance will be much better on the firmness and energy of the American people, to conquer again their Independence,” he closed.
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Gallatin also wrote to Monroe. Supposing that the British cabinet continued the war only to assuage popular opinion and secretly desired peace had been a miscalculation. They could win everything proposed at the table from the barrel of a gun. He predicted a major offensive to gain control of the Great Lakes, a widened Indian war that must be met vigorously by America to expel the adjacent tribes or force them to sue for peace and thus eliminate the
sine qua non
pretext. Gallatin understood that an army of about 14,000 troops was to sail from England in September toward New Orleans. Attacks against the east coast would attempt to draw American forces away from these other objectives. “It is now evident that Great Britain intends to strengthen and aggrandize herself in North America …. It is highly probable that our struggle will be longer and more arduous than I had anticipated.”
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The very day that the commissioners held their stormy meeting, the British began the assault on America's capital. For several days about twenty warships and several unarmed transport vessels had stood in Chesapeake Bay, throwing Washington and all of coastal Maryland into a panic second-guessing where the troops would land. On August 19, a British flotilla forged up the Patuxent River, and Maj. Gen. Robert Ross landed with 4,000 seasoned British regulars at Benedict.

Impeded only by the withering August heat that caused many troops to fall out of line during the march, Ross followed the river to Upper Marlboro. There he paused on August 23 to confer with Rear Admiral Sir George Cockburn, who urged him to press on to the capital. Reinforced with a battery of marine artillery, some sailors, and marines,
on August 24, Ross reached Bladensburg on the East Branch, a tributary of the Potomac River, within five miles of Washington. Here, the British faced a hasty defensive line consisting of 7,000 men. Although outnumbering the British, only 1,000 were regulars and another 400 sailors.

Set on commanding heights and concentrated alongside a fortified house, the American position appeared formidable. Approaching the heights required crossing a bridge over the East Branch covered by several artillery pieces.
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President James Madison and his entire executive arrived on horseback at eleven o'clock. It was more than a hundred degrees Fahrenheit; sweat drenched their riding clothes. Winder was not on the field. Gen. Tobias Stansbury, who had brought 3,500 Maryland militiamen into the line, commanded in his absence, but Brig. Gen. Walter Smith of the Georgetown militia angrily contested his right. While the two men argued points of seniority, Monroe tried to reorganize a point in the defensive line while, encouraged by Madison, Armstrong made similar martial gestures. Winder appeared about noon, too late to influence events. An hour later cannon on both sides began an exchange. Madison suggested the civilians depart the field so the officers could see to the battle unworried about their safety.
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In fact, neither Winder nor any other general further influenced events. As the British advanced, a volley of Congreve rockets was fired at the American line. Iron cylinders 42 inches long and 4 inches in diameter to which a 32-pound explosive charge was fixed, these rockets emitted a loud shriek and trailed a stream of flame as they raced out to a maximum range of 3,000 yards. Though causing visual fireworks and much racket, they were fairly harmless. None of the militia had ever been exposed to them, however, and a shudder rolled through the ranks as the rockets
whished
overhead. With the British infantry closing, the first line fell back into the troops behind, causing general panic. Thirty minutes after the attack began, the militia were on the run. Only Commodore Joshua Barney's 400 sailors held fast, manning a battery of guns stripped from gunboats. For two hours they impeded the British until finally the position was turned and the badly wounded Barney sent them back.
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