It fell to the last, and perhaps least talented, President of the
Virginia Dynasty to consummate the work of Jefferson and Madison by a
final settlement with Spain which left the United States in possession
of the Floridas. In the diplomatic service James Monroe had exhibited
none of those qualities which warranted the expectation that he would
succeed where his predecessors had failed. On his missions to England
and Spain, indeed, he had been singularly inept, but he had learned much
in the rude school of experience, and he now brought to his new duties
discretion, sobriety, and poise. He was what the common people held
him to be a faithful public servant, deeply and sincerely republican,
earnestly desirous to serve the country which he loved.
The circumstances of Monroe's election pledged him to a truly national
policy. He had received the electoral votes of all but three States. *
He was now President of an undivided country, not merely a Virginian
fortuitously elevated to the chief magistracy and regarded as alien in
sympathy to the North and East. Any doubts on this point were dispelled
by the popular demonstrations which greeted him on his tour through
Federalist strongholds in the Northeast. "I have seen enough," he wrote
in grateful recollection, "to satisfy me that the great mass of our
fellow-citizens in the Eastern States are as firmly attached to the
union and republican government as I have always believed or could
desire them to be." The news-sheets which followed his progress from
day to day coined the phrase, "era of good feeling," which has passed
current ever since as a characterization of his administration.
* Monroe received 183 electoral votes and Rufus King, 34--
the votes of Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Delaware.
It was in this admirable temper and with this broad national outlook
that Monroe chose his advisers and heads of departments. He was
well aware of the common belief that his predecessors had appointed
Virginians to the Secretaryship of State in order to prepare the way
for their succession to the Presidency. He was determined, therefore,
to avert the suspicion of sectional bias by selecting some one from the
Eastern States, rather than from the South or from the West, hitherto
so closely allied to the South. His choice fell upon John Quincy Adams,
"who by his age, long experience in our foreign affairs, and adoption
into the Republican party," he assured Jefferson, "seems to have
superior pretentions." It was an excellent appointment from every point
of view but one. Monroe had overlooked--and the circumstance did
him infinite credit--the exigencies of politics and passed over an
individual whose vaulting ambition had already made him an aspirant to
the Presidency. Henry Clay was grievously disappointed and henceforward
sulked in his tent, refusing the Secretaryship of War which the
President tendered. Eventually the brilliant young John C. Calhoun took
this post. This South Carolinian was in the prime of life, full of
fire and dash, ardently patriotic, and nationally-minded to an
unusual degree. Of William H. Crawford of Georgia, who retained the
Secretaryship of the Treasury, little need be said except that he also
was a presidential aspirant who saw things always from the angle of
political expediency. Benjamin W. Crowninshield as Secretary of the
Navy and William Wirt as Attorney-General completed the circle of the
President's intimate advisers.
The new Secretary of State had not been in office many weeks before he
received a morning call from Don Luis de Onis, the Spanish Minister, who
was laboring under ill-disguised excitement. It appeared that his house
in Washington had been repeatedly "insulted" of late-windows broken,
lamps in front of the house smashed, and one night a dead fowl tied to
his bell-rope. This last piece of vandalism had been too much for his
equanimity. He held it a gross insult to his sovereign and the Spanish
monarchy, importing that they were of no more consequence than a dead
old hen! Adams, though considerably amused, endeavored to smooth the
ruffled pride of the chevalier by suggesting that these were probably
only the tricks of some mischievous boys; but De Onis was not easily
appeased. Indeed, as Adams was himself soon to learn, the American
public did regard the Spanish monarchy as a dead old hen, and took no
pains to disguise its contempt. Adams had yet to learn the long train
of circumstances which made Spanish relations the most delicate and
difficult of all the diplomatic problems in his office.
With his wonted industry, Adams soon made himself master of the facts
relating to Spanish diplomacy. For the moment interest centered on
East Florida. Carefully unraveling the tangled skein of events, Adams
followed the thread which led back to President Madison's secret message
to Congress of January 3,1811, which was indeed one of the landmarks in
American policy. Madison had recommended a declaration "that the
United States could not see without serious inquietude any part of
a neighboring territory [like East Florida] in which they have in
different respects so deep and so just a concern pass from the hands of
Spain into those of any other foreign power." To prevent the possible
subversion of Spanish authority in East Florida and the occupation of
the province by a foreign power--Great Britain was, of course, the power
the President had in mind--he had urged Congress to authorize him to
take temporary possession "in pursuance of arrangements which may
be desired by the Spanish authorities." Congress had responded with
alacrity and empowered the President to occupy East Florida in case the
local authorities should consent or a foreign power should attempt to
occupy it.
With equal dispatch the President had sent two agents, General George
Matthews and Colonel John McKee, on one of the strangest missions in the
border history of the United States.
East Florida--Adams found, pursuing his inquiries into the archives of
the department--included the two important ports of entry, Pensacola on
the Gulf and Fernandina on Amelia Island, at the mouth of the St. Mary's
River. The island had long been a notorious resort for smugglers. Hither
had come British and American vessels with cargoes of merchandise and
slaves, which found their way in mysterious fashion to consignees within
the States. A Spanish garrison of ten men was the sole custodian of law
and order on the island. Up and down the river was scattered a lawless
population of freebooters, who were equally ready to raid a border
plantation or to raise the Jolly Roger on some piratical cruise. To this
No Man's Land--fertile recruiting ground for all manner of filibustering
expeditions--General Matthews and Colonel McKee had betaken themselves
in the spring of 1811, bearing some explicit instructions from President
Madison but also some very pronounced convictions as to what they
were expected to accomplish. Matthews, at least, understood that the
President wished a revolution after the West Florida model. He assured
the Administration-Adams read the precious missive in the files of his
office-that he could do the trick. Only let the Government consign two
hundred stand of arms and fifty horsemen's swords to the commander at
St. Mary's, and he would guarantee to put the revolution through without
committing the United States in any way.
The melodrama had been staged for the following spring (1812). Some two
hundred "patriots" recruited from the border people gathered near St.
Mary's with souls yearning for freedom; and while American gunboats
took a menacing position, this force of insurgents had landed on Amelia
Island and summoned the Spanish commandant to surrender. Not willing
to spoil the scene by vulgar resistance, the commandant capitulated and
marched out his garrison, ten strong, with all the honors of war. The
Spanish flag had been hauled down to give place to the flag of the
insurgents, bearing the inspiring motto Salus populi--suprema lex.
Then General Matthews with a squad of regular United States troops had
crossed the river and taken possession. Only the benediction of the
Government at Washington was lacking to make the success of his mission
complete; but to the general's consternation no approving message
came, only a peremptory dispatch disavowing his acts and revoking his
commission.
As Adams reviewed these events, he could see no other alternative
for the Government to have pursued at this moment when war with Great
Britain was impending. It would have been the height of folly to break
openly with Spain. The Administration had indeed instructed its new
agent, Governor Mitchell of Georgia, to restore the island to the
Spanish commandant and to withdraw his troops, if he could do so without
sacrificing the insurgents to the vengeance of the Spaniards. But the
forces set in motion by Matthews were not so easily controlled from
Washington. Once having resolved to liberate East Florida, the patriots
were not disposed to retire at the nod of the Secretary of State. The
Spanish commandant was equally obdurate. He would make no promise to
spare the insurgents. The Legislature of Georgia, too, had a mind of its
own. It resolved that the occupation of East Florida was essential
to the safety of the State, whether Congress approved or no; and the
Governor, swept along in the current of popular feeling, summoned troops
from Savannah to hold the province. Just at this moment had come
the news of war with Great Britain; and Governor, State militia, and
patriots had combined in an effort to prevent East Florida from becoming
enemy's territory.
Military considerations had also swept the Administration along the same
hazardous course. The occupation of the Floridas seemed imperative. The
President sought authorization from Congress to occupy and govern both
the Floridas until the vexed question of title could be settled by
negotiation. Only a part of this programme had carried, for, while
Congress was prepared to approve the military occupation of West Florida
to the Perdido River, beyond that it would not go; and so with great
reluctance the President had ordered the troops to withdraw from Amelia
Island. In the spring of the same year (1813) General Wilkinson had
occupied West Florida--the only permanent conquest of the war and that,
oddly enough, the conquest of a territory owned and held by a power with
which the United States was not at war.
Abandoned by the American troops, Amelia Island had become a rendezvous
for outlaws from every part of the Americas. Just about the time
that Adams was crossing the ocean to take up his duties at the State
Department, one of these buccaneers by the name of Gregor MacGregor
descended upon the island as "Brigadier General of the Armies of the
United Provinces of New Granada and Venezuela, and General-in-chief of
that destined to emancipate the provinces of both Floridas, under the
commission of the Supreme Government of Mexico and South America." This
pirate was soon succeeded by General Aury, who had enjoyed a wild career
among the buccaneers of Galveston Bay, where he had posed as military
governor under the Republic of Mexico. East Florida in the hands of such
desperadoes was a menace to the American border. Approaching the problem
of East Florida without any of the prepossessions of those who had been
dealing with Spanish envoys for a score of years, the new Secretary of
State was prepared to move directly to his goal without any too great
consideration for the feelings of others. His examination of the facts
led him to a clean-cut decision: this nest of pirates must be broken up
at once. His energy carried President and Cabinet along with him. It was
decided to send troops and ships to the St. Mary's and if necessary to
invest Fernandina. This demonstration of force sufficed; General Aury
departed to conquer new worlds, and Amelia Island was occupied for the
second time without bloodshed.
But now, having grasped the nettle firmly, what was the Administration
to do with it? De Onis promptly registered his protest; the opposition
in Congress seized upon the incident to worry the President; many of
the President's friends thought that he had been precipitate. Monroe,
indeed, would have been glad to withdraw the troops now that they had
effected their object, but Adams was for holding the island in order to
force Spain to terms. With a frankness which lacerated the feelings of
De Onis, Adams insisted that the United States had acted strictly on the
defensive. The occupation of Amelia Island was not an act of aggression
but a necessary measure for the protection of commerce--American
commerce, the commerce of other nations, the commerce of Spain itself.
Now why not put an end to all friction by ceding the Floridas to the
United States? What would Spain take for all her possessions east of
the Mississippi, Adams asked. De Onis declined to say. Well, then, Adams
pursued, suppose the United States should withdraw from Amelia
Island, would Spain guarantee that it should not be occupied again by
free-booters? No: De Onis could give no such guarantee, but he would
write to the Governor of Havana to ascertain if he would send an
adequate garrison to Fernandina. Adams reported this significant
conversation to the President, who was visibly shaken by the conflict of
opinions within his political household and not a little alarmed at the
possibility of war with Spain. The Secretary of State was coolly taking
the measure of his chief. "There is a slowness, want of decision, and a
spirit of procrastination in the President," he confided to his diary.
He did not add, but the thought was in his mind, that he could sway
this President, mold him to his heart's desire. In this first trial of
strength the hardier personality won: Monroe sent a message to Congress,
on January 13, 1818, announcing his intention to hold East Florida for
the present, and the arguments which he used to justify this bold course
were precisely those of his Secretary of State.
When Adams suggested that Spain might put an end to all her worries by
ceding the Floridas, he was only renewing an offer that Monroe had made
while he was still Secretary of State. De Onis had then declared that
Spain would never cede territory east of the Mississippi unless the
United States would relinquish its claims west of that river. Now,
to the new Secretary, De Onis intimated that he was ready to be less
exacting. He would be willing to run the line farther west and allow the
United States a large part of what is now the State of Louisiana. Adams
made no reply to this tentative proposal but bided his time; and time
played into his hands in unexpected ways.
To the Secretary's office, one day in June, 1818, came a letter from De
Onis which was a veritable firebrand. De Onis, who was not unnaturally
disposed to believe the worst of Americans on the border, had heard that
General Andrew Jackson in pursuit of the Seminole Indians had crossed
into Florida and captured Pensacola and St. Mark's. He demanded to be
informed "in a positive, distinct and explicit manner just what had
occurred"; and then, outraged by confirmatory reports and without
waiting for Adams's reply, he wrote another angry letter, insisting upon
the restitution of the captured forts and the punishment of the American
general. Worse tidings followed. Bagot, the British Minister, had heard
that Jackson had seized and executed two British subjects on Spanish
soil. Would the Secretary of State inform him whether General Jackson
had been authorized to take Pensacola, and would the Secretary furnish
him with copies of the reports of the courts-martial which had condemned
these two subjects of His Majesty? Adams could only reply that he lacked
official information.
By the second week in July, dispatches from General Jackson confirmed
the worst insinuations and accusations of De Onis and Bagot. President
Monroe was painfully embarrassed. Prompt disavowal of the general's
conduct seemed the only way to avert war; but to disavow the acts of
this popular idol, the victor of New Orleans, was no light matter. He
sought the advice of his Cabinet and was hardly less embarrassed to
find all but one convinced that "Old Hickory" had acted contrary to
instructions and had committed acts of hostility against Spain. A week
of anxious Cabinet sessions followed, in which only one voice was raised
in defense of the invasion of Florida. All but Adams feared war, a war
which the opposition would surely brand as incited by the President
without the consent of Congress. No administration could carry on a war
begun in violation of the Constitution, said Calhoun. But, argued Adams,
the President may authorize defensive acts of hostility. Jackson had
been authorized to cross the frontier, if necessary, in pursuit of the
Indians, and all the ensuing deplorable incidents had followed as a
necessary consequence of Indian warfare.
The conclusions of the Cabinet were summed up by Adams in a reply to
De Onis, on the 23d of July, which must have greatly astonished that
diligent defender of Spanish honor. Opening the letter to read, as he
confidently expected, a disavowal and an offer of reparation, he found
the responsibility for the recent unpleasant incidents fastened upon his
own country. He was reminded that by the treaty of 1795 both Governments
had contracted to restrain the Indians within their respective borders,
so that neither should suffer from hostile raids, and that the Governor
of Pensacola, when called upon to break up a stronghold of Indians and
fugitive slaves, had acknowledged his obligation but had pleaded his
inability to carry out the covenant. Then, and then only, had General
Jackson been authorized to cross the border and to put an end to
outrages which the Spanish authorities lacked the power to prevent.
General Jackson had taken possession of the Spanish forts on his
own responsibility when he became convinced of the duplicity of the
commandant, who, indeed, had made himself "a partner and accomplice of
the hostile Indians and of their foreign instigators." Such conduct on
the part of His Majesty's officer justified the President in calling
for his punishment. But, in the meantime, the President was prepared to
restore Pensacola, and also St. Mark's, whenever His Majesty should send
a force sufficiently strong to hold the Indians under control.
Nor did the Secretary of State moderate his tone or abate his demands
when Pizarro, the Spanish Minister of Foreign Affairs, threatened
to suspend negotiations with the United States until it should give
satisfaction for this "shameful invasion of His Majesty's territory" and
for these "acts of barbarity glossed over with the forms of justice." In
a dispatch to the American Minister at Madrid, Adams vigorously defended
Jackson's conduct from beginning to end. The time had come, said he,
when "Spain must immediately make her election either to place a force
in Florida adequate at once to the protection of her territory and
to the fulfilment of her engagements or cede to the United States a
province of which she retains nothing but the nominal possession, but
which is in fact a derelict, open to the occupancy of every enemy,
civilized or savage, of the United States and serving no other earthly
purpose, than as a post of annoyance to them."
This affront to Spanish pride might have ended abruptly a chapter in
Spanish-American diplomacy but for the friendly offices of Hyde de
Neuville, the French Minister at Washington, whose Government could
not view without alarm the possibility of a rupture between the two
countries. It was Neuville who labored through the summer months of this
year, first with Adams, then with De Onis, tempering the demands of the
one and placating the pride of the other, but never allowing intercourse
to drop. Adams was right, and both Neuville and De Onis knew it; the
only way to settle outstanding differences was to cede these Spanish
derelicts in the New World to the United States.
To bring and keep together these two antithetical personalities,
representatives of two opposing political systems, was no small
achievement. What De Onis thought of his stubborn opponent may be
surmised; what the American thought of the Spaniard need not be left to
conjecture. In the pages of his diary Adams painted the portrait of his
adversary as he saw him--"cold, calculating, wily, always commanding
his temper, proud because he is a Spaniard but supple and cunning,
accommodating the tone of his pretensions precisely to the degree of
endurance of his opponents, bold and overbearing to the utmost extent to
which it is tolerated, careless of what he asserts or how grossly it is
proved to be unfounded."
The history of the negotiations running through the fall and winter is
a succession of propositions and counter-propositions, made formally by
the chief participants or tentatively and informally through Neuville.
The western boundary of the Louisiana purchase was the chief obstacle to
agreement. Each sparred for an advantage; each made extreme claims; and
each was persuaded to yield a little here and a little there, slowly
narrowing the bounds of the disputed territory. More than once the
President and the Cabinet believed that the last concession had been
extorted and were prepared to yield on other matters. When the President
was prepared, for example, to accept the hundredth meridian and the
forty-third parallel, Adams insisted on demanding the one hundred and
second and the forty-second; and "after a long and violent struggle,"
wrote Adams, "he [De Onis]. .. agreed to take longitude one hundred from
the Red River to the Arkansas, and latitude forty-two from the source of
the Arkansas to the South Sea." This was a momentous decision, for the
United States acquired thus whatever claim Spain had to the northwest
coast but sacrificed its claim to Texas for the possession of the
Floridas.
Vexatious questions still remained to be settled. The spoliation claims
which were to have been adjusted by the convention of 1802 were
finally left to a commission, the United States agreeing to assume all
obligations to an amount not exceeding five million dollars. De Onis
demurred at stating this amount in the treaty: he would be blamed for
having betrayed the honor of Spain by selling the Floridas for a paltry
five millions. To which Adams replied dryly that he ought to boast of
his bargain instead of being ashamed of it, since it was notorious
that the Floridas had always been a burden to the Spanish exchequer.
Negotiations came to a standstill again when Adams insisted that certain
royal grants of land in the Floridas should be declared null and void.
He feared, and not without reason, that these grants would deprive the
United States of the domain which was to be used to pay the indemnities
assumed in the treaty. De Onis resented the demand as "offensive to
the dignity and imprescriptible rights of the Crown of Spain"; and
once again Neuville came to the rescue of the treaty and persuaded both
parties to agree to a compromise. On the understanding that the royal
grants in question had been made subsequent to January 24, 1818, Adams
agreed that all grants made since that date (when the first proposal was
made by His Majesty for the cession of the Floridas) should be declared
null and void; and that all grants made before that date should be
confirmed.
On the anniversary of Washington's birthday, De Onis and Adams signed
the treaty which carried the United States to its natural limits on
the southeast. The event seemed to Adams to mark "a great epocha in our
history." "It was near one in the morning," he recorded in his diary,
"when I closed the day with ejaculations of fervent gratitude to
the Giver of all good. It was, perhaps, the most important day of my
life.... Let no idle and unfounded exultation take possession of my
mind, as if I would ascribe to my own foresight or exertions any portion
of the event." But misgivings followed hard on these joyous reflections.
The treaty had still to be ratified, and the disposition of the Spanish
Cortes was uncertain. There was, too, considerable opposition in the
Senate. "A watchful eye, a resolute purpose, a calm and patient temper,
and a favoring Providence will all be as indispensable for the future
as they have been for the past in the management of this negotiation,"
Adams reminded himself. He had need of all these qualities in the trying
months that followed.