CHAPTER XI.

THE Massachusetts legislature issued, October 17, its invitation to

the New England States for a conference,[407] and on the same day

the newspapers published the despatches from Ghent, to August 20,

containing British conditions of peace,--which required, among greater

sacrifices, a cession of Massachusetts territory, and an abandonment

of fisheries and fishing rights conceded with American independence.

Two counties of the State beyond the Penobscot were then in British

military possession, and a third, Nantucket, was a British naval

station. Yet even under these circumstances the British demands did not

shock the Federalist leaders. Governor Strong, after reading the Ghent

documents October 17, wrote to Pickering at Washington,[408]--

“If Great Britain had discovered a haughty or grasping spirit,

it might naturally have excited irritation; but I am persuaded

that in the present case there is not a member of Congress who,

if he was a member of Parliament, would have thought that more

moderate terms ought in the first instance to have been offered.”

The argument seemed to prove only that members of Congress could also

be haughty and grasping; but Governor Strong thought the British

demands reasonable, and began at once to sound his friends in regard

to the proposed concessions. The following day he wrote[409] that the

Essex people expected to lose the fisheries, but were ready to give up

a portion of Maine to retain them.

Pickering wrote in reply, acquiescing in the proposed barter of

territory for fisheries, and also in the more extravagant British

demands for the Indians and the Lakes. “I was gratified,” said

Pickering,[410] “to find my own sentiments corresponding with yours.”

The leading Federalists united with Pickering and Strong in blaming

the American negotiators and the government for rejecting the British

offers. The same view was taken by the chief Federalist newspaper of

the State, the Boston “Centinel.”[411]

Thus in the November election, a few weeks later, two issues were

impressed on the people of New England. In regard to neither issue did

the Federalist leaders attempt concealment. The people were invited, as

far as the press of both parties could decide the points of dispute,

to express their opinion,--first, whether the British conditions of

peace should have been taken into consideration; second, whether the

States should be represented at the Hartford Convention. The popular

response was emphatic. Everywhere in New England the Republican

candidates were defeated; and the Federalists, encouraged by the

result,--believing the Hartford Convention to be the most popular

action taken by Massachusetts since the State adopted the Federal

Constitution,[412]--prepared to support measures, looking to the

restoration of peace and to the establishment of a new Federal compact

comprising either the whole or a portion of the actual Union.

However varied the wishes of the majority might be, they agreed in

requiring a radical change in the organic law. This intention was

their chief claim to popularity. The Boston “Centinel,” announcing

November 9 the adhesion of Connecticut and Rhode Island to the Hartford

Convention, placed over the announcement the head-line, “Second and

third Pillars of a new Federal Edifice reared.” During November and

December, almost every day, the newspapers discussed the question what

the convention should do; and the chief divergence of opinion seemed to

regard rather the immediate than the ultimate resort to forcible means

of stopping the war. The extremists, represented in the press by John

Lowell, asked for immediate action.

“Throwing off all connection with this wasteful war,”--wrote “A

New England Man” in the “Centinel” of December 17,--“making

peace with our enemy and opening once more our commerce with the

world, would be a wise and manly course. The occasion demands it

of us, and the people at large are ready to meet it.”

Apparently Lowell was right. The people showed no sign of unwillingness

to meet any decision that might be recommended by the convention. As

the moment approached, the country waited with increasing anxiety for

the result. The Republican press--the “National Intelligencer” as

well as the Boston “Patriot”--at first ridiculed the convention, then

grew irritable, and at last betrayed signs of despair. On both sides

threats were openly made and openly defied; but in Massachusetts the

United States government had not five hundred effective troops, and if

the convention chose to recommend that the State should declare itself

neutral and open its ports, no one pretended that any national power

existed in Massachusetts capable of preventing the legislature from

carrying the recommendation into effect if it pleased.

From immediate extravagance Massachusetts was saved by the leaders

who, knowing the popular excitement, feared lest the convention should

be carried too fast into disorder, and for that reason selected

representatives who could be trusted to resist emotion. When George

Cabot was chosen as the head of the State delegation, the character

of the body was fixed. The selection of Cabot did not please the

advocates of action. Pickering wrote to Lowell suggesting doubts

whether Cabot was the fittest choice.[413] Lowell replied that he

shared these doubts, and that in consequence he had been led to oppose

the convention altogether, because it would not withdraw the State

resources from the general government.[414] Cabot, he said, was “most

reluctantly dragged in like a conscript to the duty of a delegate;” he

had always been despondent as to the course of public affairs, and felt

no confidence in the possibility of awakening the people to their true

disease,--which was not the war or the Union, but democracy. Lowell

did not know “a single bold and ardent man” among the Massachusetts or

Connecticut delegates. In the “Centinel” of December 7 he described

Cabot’s tendencies in language evidently intended as a warning to Cabot

himself:--

“There are men who know that our troubles are not the offspring

of this war alone, and will not die with it. But they despair

of relief, and think resistance unavailing. They consider the

people in their very nature democratic, and that nothing but the

severity of their sufferings has driven them from those men and

that system out of which have grown all our evils; that should

they be restored to that state of prosperity which they once

enjoyed, the same passions and opinions would diffuse themselves

through the country, and the same course of conduct be again

followed out.”

Cabot shocked Pickering by expressing all his favorite political views

in one brief question: “Why can’t you and I let the world ruin itself

its own way?”[415] Such a turn of mind was commonly the mark of a

sceptical spirit, which doubted whether the world at best was worth the

trouble of saving; and against this inert and indifferent view of human

affairs New England offered a constant protest. Yet the Massachusetts

delegation to Hartford was in sympathy with Cabot, while the

Massachusetts legislature seemed to sympathize with Pickering. William

Prescott, another member of the delegation, was chiefly remarkable for

prudence and caution; Nathan Dane bore the same stamp; Harrison Gray

Otis took character and color from his surroundings. The Connecticut

delegation--James Hillhouse, Chauncey Goodrich, Roger M. Sherman, and

others--were little likely to recommend “effectual measures.” The

convention consisted of men supposed to be inclined to resist popular

pressure, and Cabot was probably serious in replying to a young friend

who asked him what he was to do at Hartford: “We are going to keep you

young hot-heads from getting into mischief.”[416]

In the Council Chamber of the State House at Hartford the delegates

assembled, December 15, and gave instant evidence of their intention

to discourage appeals to popular emotion. Their earliest steps decided

their whole course. They chose George Cabot as their President, and

they made their sessions secret. Under no circumstances could the

convention have regarded itself as a popular body, for the delegates

numbered only twenty-three persons, mostly cautious and elderly men,

who detested democracy, but disliked enthusiasm almost as much. Two

new members, appointed by popular meetings in New Hampshire, were

next admitted; and toward the close of the sessions another member,

representing the county of Windham in Vermont, was given a seat. Thus

enlarged, the convention over which George Cabot presided numbered

twenty-six members besides the secretary, Theodore Dwight.

Excess of caution helped to give the convention an air of conspiracy,

which warned future conspirators to prefer acting, or appearing to act,

in public. The secrecy of the Hartford conference was chiefly intended

to secure freedom for the exchange of opinion, and also in some degree

to prevent premature excitement and intrusion of popular feeling; but

the secrecy created a belief that the debates would not bear publicity.

Possibly much was said which verged on treasonable conspiracy; but

the members were not men of a class likely to act beyond their

instructions, and they adhered strictly to the practical task imposed

on them. Some years afterward, Harrison Gray Otis, laboring to clear

his political reputation from the stigma of membership, caused the

official journal of the convention to be published; and the record,

though revealing nothing of what was said, proved that nothing was

formally done or proposed which contradicted the grave and restrained

attitude maintained in its public expressions.

On the first day of its meeting the convention appointed a committee to

consider and report upon the business to be done. Chauncey Goodrich,

Otis, and three other members formed this committee, which reported

the next day the points in dispute between the States and the national

government,--the militia power, conscription power, duty and means of

defence, and matters of a like nature. After two days of discussion,

the convention appointed another committee to frame a general project

of measures, and again placed a Connecticut man--Nathaniel Smith--at

its head, with Otis second. Still another committee was appointed,

December 21, to prepare a report showing the reasons which guided the

convention to its results; and of that committee Otis was chairman.

Clearly, Otis took the chief burden of business; and the result could

scarcely fail to reflect in some degree the character of the man as

well as of the body for which he was acting. Though ambitious of

leading, Otis never led. John Lowell described his character, as it

was understood in Boston, perhaps somewhat harshly, for Otis was no

favorite with any class of men who held fixed opinions:[417]--

“Mr. Otis is naturally timid and frequently wavering,--to-day

bold, and to-morrow like a hare trembling at every breeze. It

would seem by his language that he is prepared for the very

boldest measures, but he receives anonymous letters every day

or two threatening him with bodily harm. It seems the other

party suspect his firmness. He is sincere in wishing thorough

measures, but a thousand fears restrain him.”

Otis was the probable author of the report, adopted December 24,

recommending a course to the convention; and he was chairman of the

larger committee to which that report was referred, and within which

the final report--after a discussion lasting from December 24 to

December 30--was framed. The discussions, both in committee and in

convention, took much time and caused some difficulties; but nothing

was ever known of the speeches made, or of the motions proposed, or

of the amendments offered. All the reports were finally adopted by

the convention; and all proposed business then having been finished,

January 5 the convention adjourned without day, authorizing Cabot to

call another meeting at Boston if he should at any time see occasion

for it.

The report, therefore, contained all the information which the

convention intended to make public, and only from that document could

the ultimate object of the members be inferred. It was immediately

published in Connecticut, and at the meeting of the legislatures of

Massachusetts and Connecticut in January it was laid before them for

approval.

Considering the conservative temper of the delegates and their dislike

for extreme measures, the report bore striking evidence of the popular

passion which urged them forward. A few paragraphs in its first pages

showed the spirit of its recommendations, and a few more showed the

effect expected from them:--

“It is a truth not to be concealed that a sentiment prevails

to no inconsiderable extent ... that the time for a change is

at hand.... This opinion may ultimately prove to be correct;

but as the evidence on which it rests is not yet conclusive,

... some general considerations are submitted in the hope of

reconciling all to a course of moderation and firmness which may

... probably avert the evil, or at least insure consolation and

success in the last resort.... A severance of the Union by one

or more States against the will of the rest, and especially in

time of war, can be justified only by absolute necessity.”

Having thus discouraged precipitation, and argued in favor of firm

and moderate measures as a probable means of preserving the Union,

the report sketched the limits of the Union that was to be preserved.

In a paragraph closely following the precedent of the Virginia

Resolutions of 1798, the report asserted the right and duty of a State

to “interpose its authority” for the protection of its citizens from

infractions of the Constitution by the general government. In the

immediate crisis, this interposition should take the form of State laws

to protect the militia or citizens from conscriptions and drafts; of

an arrangement with the general government authorizing the States to

assume their own defence, and to retain “a reasonable portion of the

taxes collected within the said States” for the purpose; and of State

armies to be held in readiness to serve for the defence of the New

England States upon the request of the governor of the State invaded.

Such measures involved the establishment of a New England

Confederation. The proposed union of the New England States for their

own defence ignored any share to be taken by the general government in

the defence of the national territory, and reduced that government to

helplessness. What could be done by New England might be done by all;

and the Federalists assumed that all would be obliged to do it.

If the general government should reject the request for the proposed

arrangement, the ultimate emergency must arise; but with the measures

to be then taken the convention would not interfere.

“It would be inexpedient for this convention to diminish

the hope of a successful issue to such an application by

recommending, upon supposition of a contrary event, ulterior

proceedings. Nor is it indeed within their province. In a

state of things so solemn and trying as may then arise, the

legislatures of the States, or conventions of the whole people,

or delegates appointed by them for the express purpose in

another convention, must act as such urgent circumstances may

then require.”

Besides the measures of urgency which must be immediately accepted by

the national government, the convention recommended seven amendments

to the Constitution; but on these no immediate action was required.

The single issue forced on the government by the convention was that

of surrendering to Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island “a

reasonable portion of the taxes collected within said States,” and

consenting to some arrangement “whereby the said States may, separately

or in concert, be empowered to assume upon themselves the defence of

their territory against the enemy.” If the United States government

should decline such an arrangement, the State legislatures were to send

delegates to another convention to meet at Boston, June 15, “with such

powers and instructions as the exigency of a crisis so momentous may

require.”

While the convention was preparing its report, from December 15 to

January 5, the public waited with the utmost curiosity for the result.

Major Jesup, famous at Chippawa and Lundy’s Lane, was then recruiting

for the Twenty-fifth United States Infantry at Hartford, and reported

constantly to the President and War Department; but he could tell

nothing of the convention that was not notorious. His letters were

mere surmises or unmilitary comments on the treasonable intentions of

the meeting.[418] The Federalists knew no more than was known to the

Republicans; but while they waited, they expressed fear only lest the

convention should fall short of their wishes.

“I care nothing more for your actings and doings,” wrote

Gouverneur Morris to Pickering in Congress.[419] “Your decree

of conscriptions and your levy of contributions are alike

indifferent to one whose eyes are fixed on a star in the East,

which he believes to be the day-spring of freedom and glory. The

traitors and madmen assembled at Hartford will, I believe, if

not too tame and timid, be hailed hereafter as the patriots and

sages of their day and generation.”

As far as newspapers reflected public opinion, the people of New

England held the same views as those expressed by Gouverneur Morris.

The Boston “Centinel” contained, December 28, an address to the

Hartford Convention announcing that the once venerable Constitution

had expired: “At your hands, therefore, we demand deliverance. New

England is unanimous. And we announce our irrevocable decree that the

tyrannical oppression of those who at present usurp the powers of the

Constitution is beyond endurance. And we will resist it.” A meeting at

Reading in Massachusetts, January 5, pledged itself to make no more

returns for taxation and to pay no more national taxes until the State

should have made its decision known.

A newspaper paragraph copied by the Federalist press[420] advised

the President to provide himself with a swifter horse than he had at

Bladensburg if he meant to attempt to subjugate the Eastern States.

“He must be able to escape at a greater rate than forty miles a day, or

the swift vengeance of New England will overtake the wretched miscreant

in his flight.” Such expressions of the press on either side were of

little authority, and deserved no great attention; but the language

of responsible and representative bodies could not be denied weight.

Opposition to the convention seemed cowed. Apparently the State was

ready for immediate action; and the convention, in recommending a delay

of six months, risked general disapproval.

While the public was in this temper, the convention adjourned, and its

report was given to the press. No one doubted that moderate men would

approve it. The only persons whose approval was in question were “bold

and ardent” partisans, like Gouverneur Morris, Pickering, and John

Lowell, who wanted instant action. Chiefly for the sake of unanimity,

these men gave in their adhesion. John Lowell hastened to publish his

acquiescence in the convention’s report.[421] Pickering also approved

it, although Pickering’s approval was partly founded on the belief

that the Union was already dissolved, and no further effort in that

direction need be made.

“If the British succeed in their expedition against New

Orleans,” Pickering wrote to Lowell,[422]--“and if they have

tolerable leaders I see no reason to doubt of their success,--I

shall consider the Union as severed.

This consequence I deem inevitable. I do not expect to see a

single representative in the next Congress from the Western

States.”

Governor Strong and Senator Gore also approved the convention’s report.

On receiving it at Washington, January 14, Gore wrote to Strong: “The

result of the Hartford Convention is here, and affords satisfaction

to most if not to all,--to some because they see not the point nor

consequence of the recommendation as relates to taxes.” The point and

consequence of that recommendation were clear to Gore, and he approved

of both.

If any leading Federalist disapproved the convention’s report, he left

no record of the disapproval. In such a case, at such a moment, silence

was acquiescence. As far as could be inferred from any speeches made

or letters written at the time, the Federalist party was unanimous in

acquiescing in the recommendations of the Hartford Convention.

In Massachusetts and Connecticut the acquiescence was express. The

legislature, convened at Boston, January 18, hastened to refer the

convention’s report to a joint committee, which reported, January 24,

Resolutions that the legislature “do highly approve” the proceedings of

the convention, and that State commissioners should immediately proceed

to Washington to effect the arrangement proposed.[423] By a very large

majority of three to one, the legislature adopted the Resolutions,

making the acts of the convention their own. Three commissioners were

quickly appointed,--Harrison Gray Otis at their head,--and in the early

days of February started for Washington.

Massachusetts was then more than ever convinced that it must

peremptorily insist on taking its share of the national revenue into

its own hands. Already the first step toward providing a State army had

plunged the State treasury into financial difficulties, and measures

for defence were stopped until new resources could be obtained. To

the surprise of Governor Strong, the Massachusetts banks, restrained

by their charters, applied to the State government the same rigorous

refusal of credit which they had applied to the national government,

and Strong found himself unable to obtain even the loan of one million

dollars authorized by the legislature at its autumn session. The

miscarriage cast a shade of ridicule on the character of the State

which criticised so severely the failure of the national government

to defend it, and found itself unable to take the first step toward

defence without the aid of the national government, bankrupt and

impotent though it was. Governor Strong sent to the legislature on

the first day of its winter session a message[424] that might have

been sent by Madison to Congress. He reminded the legislature that it

had, by a Resolution of Oct. 11, 1814, authorized a loan of a million

dollars from the banks.

“At that time,” continued Strong’s message, “it was supposed

that there would be no difficulty in procuring the requisite

sums from that source, and the treasurer soon obtained loans to

a considerable amount; but the directors of some of the banks

declared themselves unable to lend, and others have expressed

such reluctance as forbids an expectation that the whole amount

can be obtained in that way during the continuance of the

present cautious operations of the banks.”

The treasurer had obtained $631,000, and with the expenditure of that

sum the work of defence and the organization of the State army ceased.

“The efforts of defensive preparation which were made in this State

the last year,” Governor Strong declared, “will, if continued at the

expense of the Commonwealth, be fatal to our finances.” The necessary

consequence followed, that the State must take the national revenues.

Accordingly the committee of both Houses, to which the subject was

referred, reported[425] an approval of suspending the organization

of State troops “until in virtue of some arrangement to be made with

the national government sufficient funds can be provided for their

pay and support, without recourse to additional taxes.” Under such

circumstances the national government was little likely to surrender

its resources, and every symptom showed that the State then meant to

seize them.

The same committee formally approved the governor’s course in

declining to co-operate with the national government in expelling the

enemy from Maine. The public excuse for the refusal was founded on the

condition of the Treasury. In Federalist society the weightier motive

was supposed to be the wish to leave on the national government the

odium of failure to defend the State.[426]

While Massachusetts sustained the Hartford Convention, and pressed to

an issue the quarrel with the national government, Connecticut acted

with equal zeal in the same sense. The governor, John Cotton Smith, was

an old man, and neither his opinions nor his passions were extreme; but

as far as concerned the Hartford Convention, his views differed little

from those of Pickering and Lowell. He called a special session of the

legislature for January 25, to act on the delegates’ report; and his

speech at the opening of the session would have been taken for irony,

had his moderation of character not been known.[427] “The temperate and

magnanimous course proposed for our adoption cannot fail to allay the

apprehensions which many have professed to entertain, and to enliven

the hopes of all who cherish our national Union, and are disposed to

place it on a solid and durable basis.” The legislature without delay

approved the measures recommended by the convention, and appointed

delegates to accompany those sent from Massachusetts to effect the

proposed arrangement with the government at Washington.

In later times the Hartford Convention was often and vigorously

defended by writers whose works were friendly to the national

government, and whose influence was popular.[428] The wisdom, loyalty,

and patriotism of George Cabot and his associates became the theme

of authors whose authority was above dispute. Nearly always the

defence rested on the argument that popular opinion went beyond the

convention’s report, and that the convention risked its credit by

refusing to advise instant withdrawal from the Union.[429] This view

was apparently correct. The efforts of the moderate Federalists to

praise the moderation of the report, and the labored protests of the

extremists against the possible suspicion that they objected to its

moderation,[430] showed that the convention was then believed to have

offered resistance to what Governor Smith stigmatized as “rash councils

or precipitate measures.” The tone of the press and the elections bore

out the belief that a popular majority would have supported an abrupt

and violent course.

The tone of the minority at the time showed a similar belief that

Massachusetts favored disunion. During all the proceedings of the State

legislatures and the convention, the loyal press and citizens never

ceased to point out the dangerous, treasonable, and absurd results to

be expected from the course pursued. In the Massachusetts Senate John

Holmes of Maine attacked the convention and its doings in a speech

that gave him wide reputation.[431] Threats of civil war were freely

uttered and defied. Among the least violent of Federalists was James

Lloyd, recently United States senator from Massachusetts; and to him

as a man of known patriotism John Randolph addressed a letter, Dec.

15, 1814, remonstrating against the Hartford Convention that day to

meet. Lloyd replied in a letter also published, advising Randolph and

the Virginians to coerce Madison into retirement, and to place Rufus

King in the Presidency as the alternative to a fatal issue.[432] The

assertion of such an alternative showed how desperate the situation was

believed by the moderate Federalists to be.

A long letter of a similar kind was written, Nov. 26, 1814, by Jonathan

Mason to Wilson Cary Nicholas.[433] The opinion of the men among whom

Mason lived was expressly declared by Mason to the effect that “Great

Britain will not treat with Mr. Madison. He must retire, or the country

and the Union are at an end.... This is plain language, but in my soul

I believe it true. We shall not be destroyed to-day or to-morrow, but

it will come; and the end of these measures [of the Administration]

will be disunion and disgrace.”

In the Republican party the belief was universal that the Hartford

Convention could lead only to a New England Confederation; and the

belief was not confined to partisans. An anecdote that George Ticknor

delighted in telling, illustrated the emotion that then agitated men

far beyond the passing and fitful excitements of party politics.

Ticknor, a young Federalist twenty-three years old, wished for letters

of introduction to Virginia, and asked them from John Adams, then a man

of eighty, whose support of the war made him an object of antipathy to

the party he had led.

“When I visited him in Quincy to receive these letters,” related

Ticknor,[434] “I had a remarkable interview with him, which at

the time disturbed me not a little.... Soon after I was seated

in Mr. Adams’s parlor,--where was no one but himself and Mrs.

Adams, who was knitting,--he began to talk of the condition of

the country with great earnestness. I said not a word; Mrs.

Adams was equally silent; but Mr. Adams, who was a man of strong

and prompt passions, went on more and more vehemently. He was

dressed in a single-breasted dark-green coat, buttoned tightly

by very large white metal buttons over his somewhat rotund

person. As he grew more and more excited in his discourse,

he impatiently endeavored to thrust his hand into the breast

of his coat. The buttons did not yield readily; at last he

_forced_ his hand in, saying, as he did so, in a very loud

voice and most excited manner: ‘Thank God! thank God! George

Cabot’s close-buttoned ambition has broke out at last: he wants

to be President of New England, sir!’”

Whether George Cabot wanted it or not, he was in danger of becoming

what John Adams predicted. He was far from being the first man who had

unwillingly allowed himself to be drawn into a position from which

escape was impossible. After going so far, neither leaders nor people

could retreat. The next and easy step of sequestrating the direct and

indirect taxes was one to which the State stood pledged in the event of

a refusal by President Madison and Congress to surrender them. After

such an act, the establishment of a New England Confederation could

hardly be matter of choice.

If so considerable a mass of concurrent testimony did not prove the

gravity of the occasion, as it was understood by the most intelligent

and best-informed men of the time, ample evidence could be drawn from

other sources. William Wirt described the painful anxiety of Madison

as early as the month of October. Throughout Virginia the depression

was akin to despair. John Randolph and Wilson Cary Nicholas gave

expression to it in letters to prominent New Englanders; but Jefferson

in private was still more pronounced in his fears. “The war, had it

proceeded, would have upset our government,” he wrote to Gallatin a

year later,[435] “and a new one, whenever tried, will do it.” George

Ticknor, after obtaining at Quincy his letter of introduction from

John Adams to Jefferson, delivered it at Monticello at a time when the

anxiety for the safety of New Orleans was acute. He found Jefferson

convinced that the city must fall, and Jefferson expressed the

expectation that the British would hold it indefinitely.[436] Pickering

felt the same conviction, and regarded the event as a dissolution of

the Union.

The “Federal Republican” of Baltimore published, January 5, the day

when the Hartford Convention adjourned, a letter from Washington

announcing “an explosion at hand; that the President would be called on

to resign; and there must be peace by that or a future Administration.”

The fall of New Orleans was to be the signal for a general demand that

Madison should resign, and the Federalist press already prepared the

ground by insisting that “Mr. Madison has scarcely raised his little

finger to preserve New Orleans,” and would finally determine to abandon

the State of Louisiana.[437] That Madison’s authority could survive

two such blows as the capture of Washington and the loss of Louisiana

seemed improbable; but that he should resign was impossible, though the

alternative was a collapse of government.

When the month of February arrived, government and people were waiting

with keen apprehension for some new disaster, and the least probable

solution was that England knowing the situation would consent to any

tolerable peace. The “Federal Republican” of January 28, commenting on

the expected bank veto, summed up the consequences, not unfairly from

its point of view, in few words:--

“It is impossible, as Mr. Giles said in his luminous and

eloquent argument upon the measure [of a national bank], that

the government can stand these reiterated shocks.... The

interest upon the public debt remains unpaid, and there exists

not the means, without making the most ruinous sacrifices, to

pay it. The government is in arrears to the army upward of

nine million dollars; to the navy, about four millions.... The

condition of our finances is known to the enemy; and is it

possible he will be such a fool as to give us peace, after the

mortal blow we aimed at him, when he knows we cannot pay the

interest on the public debt, that we cannot pay our army or our

navy, and when he finds us unable to defend any part of the

country at which he strikes?”

[Illustration:

A GENERAL MAP OF THE

SEAT OF WAR IN LOUISIANA

AND WEST FLORIDA,

_Shewing all the fortified points and encampments

of both the American and

British Armies; also the march of Gen.

Jackson’s Army on his expedition

against Pensacola._

BY MAJOR A. LACARRIERE LATOUR.

STRUTHERS & CO., ENGR’S, N. Y.]

History of the United States of America, Volume 8 (of 9) · 第 11 / 14 章