Stretching along the southern shore of the Mediterranean some 1,800
miles, in the latitude, roughly speaking, of Cape Hatteras, are
the regions known to our forefathers as Barbary. The westernmost
was Morocco, then Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli. The last three were
nominally appanages of the Turkish Empire. Anciently there had been
along these shores a high civilization. Carthage (now Tunis) had
disputed with Rome the empire of the Mediterranean; she failed through
Rome’s final dominancy at sea, and her power was utterly wrecked, as
was the city itself. Rome ruled and built thriving cities throughout
the coastline mentioned, the remains of which now mark but dimly the
footsteps of civilization and history.
With the rise of Mohammedanism, the Arab power swept westward over the
entire region. The antagonism of religion brought a continuous warfare
between the European and African shores which developed into a piracy
which lasted almost to our own days. A relic of the fear which Europe
had for these bold corsairs, who captured vessels of all nations and
carried crews and passengers into cruel slavery, is in the many towers
of refuge still along the French and Italian rivieras, and the memory
is yet in the Litany in the prayer-book of the Episcopal Church in
England and America, where we pray for “all prisoners and captives.”
Long after the writer entered our navy, the Saturday evening toast,
after “Sweethearts and Wives,” was, “Here’s to the downfall of the
barbarous Moor.” It was an echo of the epic period of the American
navy. For we once did great things in Barbary, of which the average
American to-day (and more’s the pity) is almost wholly ignorant. It is
in its earlier phase a tale of national humiliation in which all Europe
also had full share, but in which our navy had no part; its later phase
in which the navy came into action is a very proud story.
The depredations of the Barbary powers were not confined to the
Mediterranean, but extended into the North and Irish seas, many
inhabitants being carried from these coasts into slavery. There were
various efforts to punish these raiding powers in the seventeenth
century by Dutch, French, and English, and as late as 1775 a great
expedition was fitted out by Spain of nearly four hundred vessels,
against Algiers, which, however, ended in disaster. This has special
interest to us, as Joshua Barney, who was to act a conspicuous part
in our naval annals, was impressed, with the Baltimore ship which he
commanded, to assist in the transport of troops.
The Barbary vessels were in general large, narrow rowboats, carrying
usually two masts, with the lateen sail of the Mediterranean for use
in fair winds. The name “galley” was applied in Europe to the largest
of such in ordinary use. There was, however, a much larger development
in the galleasse, some few of which, used by the Neapolitans, carried
700 men, 300 of whom would be convicts at the oars. There was finally
the galleon, the precursor of the frigate, which had masts and sails
alone for propulsion. In the large galleys there might be as many as
six men at an oar. It may be said that in general the development of
the corsair ship followed slowly but fairly closely that of the ship of
Europe, and in later years they had a number of the usual square-rigged
vessels.[12]
The Christian slaves were employed not only in the galleys, but did
all kinds of labor; the crew of our frigate _Philadelphia_, which in
1803 grounded near Tripoli and thus was captured, was employed in
building one of the defences against our own ships, which took the name
of the American fort. In the main, however, the captivity was humane
and not oppressive.
The claim of the Barbary powers was expressed in a statement of their
envoy while in London in 1786, to our minister, John Adams: “That
Turkey, Tripoli, Tunis, Algiers, and Morocco were the sovereigns of
the Mediterranean; and that no nation could navigate that sea without
a treaty of peace with them.”[13] Europe had practically accepted a
situation of the most degrading kind; every nautical power paid tribute
in money or presents and all had representatives among the Barbary
slaves. Even as late as 1816, when the English finally acted, there
were eighteen Englishmen among the slaves released by Lord Exmouth’s
expedition.
But England’s attitude had not been one of honor. There was no time
when she might not have ended the foul situation. Franklin could say
in a letter on July 25, 1783, to our secretary of foreign affairs: “I
think it not improbable that these rovers may be privately encouraged
by the English to fall upon us and to prevent our interfering in the
carrying trade; for I have in London heard it is a maxim among the
merchants, that if there were no Algiers it would be worth England’s
while to build one. I wonder, however, that the rest of Europe do not
combine to destroy those nests and secure commerce from their future
piracies.”[14] Three years later John Adams, our minister in London,
was writing Secretary Jay (February 17, 1786): “There are not wanting
persons in England who will find means to stimulate this African
[the Tripolitan envoy] to stir up his countrymen against American
vessels.”[15] British statesmanship, then as ever, was jealous of
rival commerce on the seas. Lord Sheffield, in a pamphlet on American
commerce, could say: “It will not be in the interest of any of the
great maritime powers to protect [Americans] from the Barbary States.
If they know their interests, they will not encourage the Americans to
be carriers--that the Barbary States are advantageous to the maritime
powers is obvious.”
It is odd that at this period two men whose lives were of a sort
that one would have supposed they would have advised each directly
otherwise, exchanged characters. Thus while Thomas Jefferson, our
minister to France, advised in 1785 force as the best protection, John
Adams in England, influenced perhaps by his surroundings, advised
following the usual plan of paying an annual tribute. Jefferson
later, most unhappily for his country, was violently antagonistic to
the establishment of a navy. Adams was, and always had been, quite
the reverse. But he now felt that the country was too poor and too
embarrassed by debt to use force. He wrote John Jay, Foreign Secretary,
December 15, 1784: “As long as France, England, Holland, the Emperor,
etc., will submit to be tributaries to these robbers and even encourage
them, to what purpose should we make war upon them? The resolution
might be heroic but would not be wise ... we cannot hurt them in the
smallest degree.... Unless it were possible, then, to persuade the
great maritime powers of Europe to unite in the suppression of these
piracies, it would be very imprudent for us to entertain any thoughts
of contending with them.”[16]
The two ministers had an extended correspondence, and though Adams
said: “I will go all lengths with you in promoting a navy, whether
it be applied to the Algerines or not,” he still doubted the economy
of dealing with Barbary by force. Jefferson’s tone was now, for him,
strangely combative. He wrote, August 20, 1785: “The question is
whether their peace or war will be cheapest? But it is a question which
should be addressed to our honor as well as our avarice, nor does it
respect us as to these pirates only, but as to the nations of Europe.
If we wish our commerce to be free and uninsulted, we must let these
nations see that we have an energy which at present they disbelieve.
The low opinion they entertain of our powers cannot fail to involve us
soon in a naval war.”
Jefferson’s views involved an association which would furnish one or
more cruisers each to act against piracy in the Mediterranean. It
included Portugal, Naples, the two Sicilies, Venice, Malta, Denmark,
and Sweden, an extremely difficult combination; but he doubted the
good faith of others. In a letter to Monroe, August 11, 1786, he says:
“I think every power in Europe would soon fall into it except France,
England, and perhaps Spain and Holland. Of these there is only England
who would give any real aid to the Algerines....” He added: “Were the
honor and advantage of establishing such a confederacy out of the
question, yet the necessity that the United States should have some
marine force, and the happiness of this, as the ostensible cause of
beginning it, would decide on its propriety. It will be said there is
no money in the treasury. There never will be money in the treasury
till the confederacy shows its teeth.... Every rational citizen must
wish to see an effective instrument of coercion and should fear to
see it on any other element than the water. A naval force can never
endanger our liberties nor occasion bloodshed; a land force would do
both.”[17]
This was Jefferson at his best. It is extraordinary that when the time
came to really assert ourselves against the seizure of our seamen and
property by other powers than those of Barbary, he should have so
completely failed. But in any case, at the time he was proposing his
floating confederacy, our inchoate system of government of the period,
which required each state to be solicited by Congress for funds,
would no doubt, as Adams thought, have made it impossible to provide
the needed ships. Our vessels continued to be seized and their crews
enslaved.
It would be unjust to the memory of John Adams, to whom the Continental
navy chiefly owed its beginnings, and who was ever the vigorous
supporter of the newer navy, not to record his life-long views as
expressed to the House of Representatives in November, 1800: “I
confidently believe that few persons can be found within the United
States who do not admit that a navy, well-organized, must constitute
the natural and efficient defence of this country against all foreign
hostility.” To this he was consistent through the whole of his long
life. In 1785 he was simply doubtful of the travesty of government
which then existed and was to have two more years of its ineffective
life.
In January, 1791, the United States, having now through its newly
formed Constitution of 1787 crystallized into a real nationality, the
Senate Committee on Mediterranean Trade agreed that our trade could “be
protected but by a naval force, and that it will be proper to resort to
the same as soon as the state of the public finances will admit.” But
a year later the Senate was stating its “readiness to ratify treaties
with Algiers providing for peace at a cost of forty thousand dollars
at the outset and annual tribute of twenty-five thousand; and also
for the ransom of the captives, then thirteen in number, for forty
thousand.”
Fifty thousand dollars was appropriated to begin with, and Paul Jones
was appointed consul at Algiers and as our envoy to make a peace. But
Jones died at Paris, July 18, 1792. Thomas Barclay, our consul in
Morocco, was appointed; he also died very shortly, and David Humphreys,
our minister to Portugal, succeeded him. But the Dey of Algiers refused
to receive him. The seizures continued, and in 1793 eleven vessels
were captured and the crews enslaved. There were now in Algiers over a
hundred American captives. The English consul, who of course was acting
on orders from home, was blamed by Humphreys for the situation. Finally
the House resolved on January 2, 1792, but only by a majority of two,
that a naval force should be provided. A bill providing for six ships
at a cost of $600,000 was finally passed with a proviso that if peace
could be arranged with Algiers work on these should stop. There had
been much opposition, many arguing “that we should follow the example
of Europe by buying peace, or should hire a European navy to protect
our trade; that a navy was a menace to liberty....” Madison opposed
the bill, partly on the ground that a navy would lead to international
complications, particularly with England, and this opinion was shared
by others. The opposition was chiefly from the South, the New England
members, who represented a constituency which was suffering from the
depredations, naturally favored the action. The bill provided for
four ships to carry forty-four guns and two to carry thirty-six each,
with full complements, pay, and rations, and $688,888.82 was finally
voted. The date of the approval of this bill, March 27, 1794, marks the
establishment of the American navy. Joshua Humphreys of Philadelphia
was the fortunate selection as naval architect. His view was that these
ships should be the most powerful of their class afloat, and this
was finally supported by General Knox, the Secretary of War, whose
department was for some years to control the navy.
But notwithstanding this action, we continued the negotiation of a
treaty with Algiers, Thomas Humphreys being authorized July 19, 1794,
to spend $800,000 (the cost of two ships-of-the-line) to effect it.
Washington was at this time President, and Jefferson Secretary of
State. The treaty was concluded after much insulting conduct on the
part of the Dey, on September 5, 1795, and only on the offer, as
an additional present, of a 36-gun frigate. It was ratified by the
Senate on March 6, 1796, and had “cost up to January, 1797, nearly a
million dollars, including $525,000 for ransom of the captives, various
presents, and miscellaneous expenses; this was exclusive of the annuity
in naval stores valued at something over $21,000, according to the
estimate, which afterward proved far too low.”[18] Truly weakness came
high.
Notwithstanding the proviso of cessation of building in case a treaty
should be made, Washington’s advice to continue the building of the
ships was accepted by Congress, and in 1797 there were launched the
_United States_, the _Constitution_, and _Constellation_, all to become
famous in our country’s history. The last two are still afloat and
their old age proudly cared for.
In his annual message of December, 1796, Washington urged a naval
force as indispensable, saying: “To secure respect to a neutral flag
requires a naval force, organized and ready to vindicate it from insult
or aggression. This may even prevent the necessity of going to war
by discouraging belligerent powers from committing such violations of
the rights of the neutral party as may, first or last, leave no other
option.”
The following, which illustrates the result of the meanness of spirit
in Congress, is scarcely pleasant reading for an American to-day. Says
the Portsmouth newspaper of January 20, 1798: “On Thursday morning,
about sunrise, a gun was discharged from the _Crescent_ frigate as a
signal for getting under way, and at 10 A.M. she cleared the harbor
with a fine leading breeze. Our best wishes follow Captain Newman,
his officers and men. May they arrive in safety at the place of their
destination and present to the Dey of Algiers one of the finest
specimens of naval architecture which was ever borne upon Piscataqua’s
waters.
“Blow all ye winds that fill the prosperous sail,
And hush’d in peace be every adverse gale.
“The _Crescent_ is a present from the United States to the Dey as a
compensation for delay in not fulfilling our treaty stipulations in
proper time[!]...
“The _Crescent_ has many valuable presents on board for the Dey, and
when she sailed was supposed to be worth at least three hundred
thousand dollars. Twenty-six barrels of dollars constituted a part
of her cargo. It is worthy of remark that the captain, chief of the
officers, and many of the privates of the _Crescent_ frigate have been
prisoners at Algiers.”[19]
There must be few Americans who do not blush for the want of public
spirit which in this ship was so concretely exhibited.
A treaty had been concluded with Tripoli in November, 1796, at a cost
of nearly fifty-six thousand dollars, and one arranged with Tunis
in August, 1797, at an estimated expense of one hundred and seven
thousand dollars, but these estimates were much increased by our
yielding to later demands. This treaty, finally concluded March 26,
1797, was ratified by our Senate on January 10, 1800. Its conclusion
was due largely to the efforts of William Eaton, who had been appointed
consul to Tunis in July, 1797. He held true views of the situation.
“The United States set out wrongly and has proceeded so. Too many
concessions have been made to Algiers. There is but one language which
can be held to these people and this is _terror_.”
Eaton, born in Connecticut in 1764, was a Revolutionary soldier at
sixteen, a graduate later of Dartmouth College, and in 1792 a captain
in the army. He was a most interesting character whom it would have
been well, on account of his bold and active spirit, to have put in
entire control of our diplomatic affairs in Barbary. We shall hear of
him later.