became appalled at the prospect of renewed taxes to finance it, especially because of the costliness of the recent wars against Napoleon. In America, where the war had never been popular in the first place, by now things were far, far worse.
For one thing, the economy was almost in paralysis; the U.S. Treasury was bankrupt and the government had defaulted on the national debt. Pay for the army was months in arrears and desertions were rising.* 30 The financial situation had gotten so bad that there wasn’t even enough money to pay for firewood to heat the newly built cadets’ quarters at West Point, and the students had taken to stealing rails from nearby farmers’ fences, causing an uproar in the area. America’s once-prosperous trade in agricultural products became almost nonexistent because of the British blockade. There was some blockade-running, of course, but the skyrocketing cost of maritime insurance made this problematic. All the bountiful American cash crops—cotton, tobacco, sugar, grains for flour—had become worthless to plant. Corn farmers had begun feeding their crops to cows and pigs.
When Congress convened in September, it was understandably shocked at the ruins of what had been the shining capital city. Some members even demanded moving the capital elsewhere—back to Philadelphia or up to New York. And
everybody,
Federalist and Democratic Republican alike, was furious at Madison, who now was lampooned on both sides of the Atlantic. Administration officials began to resign, including Secretary of War Armstrong, who was blamed for the Washington disaster. In his place was put Secretary of State James Monroe, who concluded that it would take at least 100,000 regular soldiers to win the war at some point in an uncertain future—and this with not a cent in the Treasury to pay them.
Especially troublesome was the situation in New England, which had opposed the war from the outset and now, predictably, was perhaps the hardest hit. Its vital shipping industry was at a standstill, with both ships and cargoes rotting at the wharves. Unemployment had soared to the point that many citizens were forced to resort to public relief or even beggary. So fervent was the disaffection that many New Englanders defied the embargo against trading with the enemy and began an open commerce in livestock and other goods across the Canadian border. The circumstances became so inflammatory that in the early autumn of 1814 the New England state legislatures (minus, of course, what is now Maine, which had been occupied by the British) voted to convene at Hartford, Connecticut, to discuss a formal secession from the Union.* 31
Not even during the darkest days of the Revolution was there more doomsaying, hand-wringing, and despair across the land. Citizens began to wonder if their country really was second-rate; certainly there was little to be proud of at present. Then came word that a large British fleet and its accompanying army were on their way to the practically defenseless Gulf Coast—to do who knew what? The disheartenment wasn’t limited to just New England; there was talk of upheaval, disaffection, even disunion across the country—in the taverns, newspapers, legislatures, churches, parlors, and streets and even in the Congress.
O n August 22, Jackson established his headquarters at Mobile. Though word of the British attacks on Washington and Baltimore would not reach him for some time, Old Hickory in any case felt he had sufficient cause to march into Spanish Florida, which he considered to be in cahoots with England.
This put an unfortunate kink in his plan to reunite with Rachel, whom he hadn’t seen for most of the year. It had been his intention that Rachel, bringing Andrew Jr., join him in Mobile, where the family could enjoy the hospitality of that quaint French-Spanish city by the bay. After arranging for a new carriage and “a good pair of horses” for the trip, Jackson proceeded to instruct his wife
For one thing, the economy was almost in paralysis; the U.S. Treasury was bankrupt and the government had defaulted on the national debt. Pay for the army was months in arrears and desertions were rising.* 30 The financial situation had gotten so bad that there wasn’t even enough money to pay for firewood to heat the newly built cadets’ quarters at West Point, and the students had taken to stealing rails from nearby farmers’ fences, causing an uproar in the area. America’s once-prosperous trade in agricultural products became almost nonexistent because of the British blockade. There was some blockade-running, of course, but the skyrocketing cost of maritime insurance made this problematic. All the bountiful American cash crops—cotton, tobacco, sugar, grains for flour—had become worthless to plant. Corn farmers had begun feeding their crops to cows and pigs.
When Congress convened in September, it was understandably shocked at the ruins of what had been the shining capital city. Some members even demanded moving the capital elsewhere—back to Philadelphia or up to New York. And
everybody,
Federalist and Democratic Republican alike, was furious at Madison, who now was lampooned on both sides of the Atlantic. Administration officials began to resign, including Secretary of War Armstrong, who was blamed for the Washington disaster. In his place was put Secretary of State James Monroe, who concluded that it would take at least 100,000 regular soldiers to win the war at some point in an uncertain future—and this with not a cent in the Treasury to pay them.
Especially troublesome was the situation in New England, which had opposed the war from the outset and now, predictably, was perhaps the hardest hit. Its vital shipping industry was at a standstill, with both ships and cargoes rotting at the wharves. Unemployment had soared to the point that many citizens were forced to resort to public relief or even beggary. So fervent was the disaffection that many New Englanders defied the embargo against trading with the enemy and began an open commerce in livestock and other goods across the Canadian border. The circumstances became so inflammatory that in the early autumn of 1814 the New England state legislatures (minus, of course, what is now Maine, which had been occupied by the British) voted to convene at Hartford, Connecticut, to discuss a formal secession from the Union.* 31
Not even during the darkest days of the Revolution was there more doomsaying, hand-wringing, and despair across the land. Citizens began to wonder if their country really was second-rate; certainly there was little to be proud of at present. Then came word that a large British fleet and its accompanying army were on their way to the practically defenseless Gulf Coast—to do who knew what? The disheartenment wasn’t limited to just New England; there was talk of upheaval, disaffection, even disunion across the country—in the taverns, newspapers, legislatures, churches, parlors, and streets and even in the Congress.
O n August 22, Jackson established his headquarters at Mobile. Though word of the British attacks on Washington and Baltimore would not reach him for some time, Old Hickory in any case felt he had sufficient cause to march into Spanish Florida, which he considered to be in cahoots with England.
This put an unfortunate kink in his plan to reunite with Rachel, whom he hadn’t seen for most of the year. It had been his intention that Rachel, bringing Andrew Jr., join him in Mobile, where the family could enjoy the hospitality of that quaint French-Spanish city by the bay. After arranging for a new carriage and “a good pair of horses” for the trip, Jackson proceeded to instruct his wife
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