It is almost possible to sense the general’s lobster-eyed delight in this demolition of Ellicott, the one witness who had no secrets to hide and no animosity to conceal. The others, including Clark, were easily exposed as hostile liars whose evidence counted for nothing beside the numerous testimonials to the general’s loyalty and patriotism bestowed on him by three presidents, two secretaries of war, and others both great and good. Wilkinson’s vigorous counterattack was unexpectedly helped by the rapid erosion of Clark’s popularity in New Orleans, where, Claiborne reported, “His deposition against General Wilkinson has given rise to much severe animadversion on Mr Clark’s general character.”
It was hardly surprising that on June 28 the board of inquiry should have reported, “There is no evidence of Brigadier-general James Wilkinson, having, at any time, received a pension from the Spanish government, or of his having received money from the government of Spain, or any of its officers or agents, for corrupt purposes; and the court has no hesitation in saying, that, as far as his conduct has been developed by this enquiry, he appears to have discharged the duties of his station with honor to himself and fidelity to his country.”
ALTHOUGH NOT A RINGING ENDORSEMENT, the verdict left the commanding general once more in full control of the army. And for the first time in Jefferson’s administration, its numbers were increasing. The dominance of Britain’s navy at sea and its aggressive inspection of neutral vessels suspected of trading strategic goods with Napoléon’s empire exposed the flaws in Jefferson’s minimalist defense policy. Responding to the perceived threat of British attack from Canada or the Gulf of Mexico, the president reversed the policy of the previous seven years. In February, he asked Congress for funding to pay for the recruitment of six thousand more regulars, and twenty-four thousand volunteers.
This represented a historic shift by the great advocate of militia as the nation’s primary defense. The type of troops to be raised, artillery, riflemen, and light dragoons as well as infantry, explained why the change had to be made. To train a large number of citizen- soldiers in these skills was prohibitively expensive compared with the cost of producing a small corps of full- time specialists. In April, Congress dispensed with the volunteers and committed nearly all the resources to the recruitment of eight new regiments of regulars. Slapping down the last few holdouts who still echoed Samuel Adams’s warnings against standing armies, South Carolina’s John Taylor declared, “If I could believe that there was the least danger to the liberties of 800,000 or one million of freemen by the forces now to be raised, I should think very little of my country.”
Nevertheless, no one could deny that the first use of the new force was directed at Americans. In an attempt to force Britain into negotiations, the Embargo Act banned all trade with her. Faced by bankruptcy, many merchants from New Orleans to Boston chose to find a way round the embargo by smuggling flour, cotton, and tobacco through Canada or Spanish Florida. Customs officials who tried to interfere were beaten up or otherwise intimidated, while local militia often preferred to ignore smugglers, who were liable to be their own neighbors.
As always in military matters, the president relied on his newly vindicated general to implement his political goals. In August 1808, Jefferson ordered Wilkinson to send newly trained recruits north to reinforce federal officials on the Canadian border. “The armed resistance to the embargo laws on the Canada line,” the president explained, “[convinced] us at an early period that the new ‘regular’ recruits of the northern States should be rendezvoused there.” The use of militia troops would have been, he acknowledged, “expensive, troublesome and less efficacious.” Wilkinson promptly deployed three companies along the New York section of the border and ordered existing garrisons in smuggling ports to take extreme measures against smugglers. From Boston, artillery captain Joseph Swift eagerly reported back, “There would be no difficulty in planting a battery that would ensure an obedience to the law.”
DESPITE HIS BEST EFFORTS, Jefferson could not prevent the United States from becoming embroiled in the cataclysm of Napoléon’s attempt to dominate Europe. At sea, American ships were attacked by French privateers and boarded and often confiscated by the British navy. On land, the government was shaken by the nationalist earthquake that altered Latin American history—the uprising of the Spanish people on May 2 against France’s military occupation. Once content to rule Spain through a puppet government under its king, Ferdinand VII, Napoléon now instituted direct rule, placing his own brother, Joseph, on the Spanish throne. From Chile to Florida, the legitimacy of this new Madrid government was immediately questioned. The dormant liberationist movement begun in 1806 by Francisco de Miranda in Venezuela revived and would, in the years ahead, spread across the continent.
The first American response to the new situation came from Wilkinson. On October 6 he wrote an alchoholic, rambling, but typically guileful memorandum on future policy in Latin America from his temporary headquarters in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Although addressed to Dearborn, its audience was clearly the president.
Wilkinson appealed first to Jefferson’s well-known prejudices against the corrupting influence of European sophistication—“it multiplies our wants, depresses our tastes, infects our manners and corrupts our principles.” He looked forward to “the Liberation of the American Continent from the Shackles of European Government, and the Nations of the West forming a distinct community united by common protection, defence and happiness.” This community he called “United America.” The only threat to its independence, he argued, came from the intervention of British power in the area, and he singled out the captain general of Cuba, Someruelos— “extremely feminine in his exterior and feeble in his intellect”—as particularly susceptible to British influence.
As always, Wilkinson’s compelling description of a problem was followed by a solution that could be provided only by someone with his particular talents: “I know more of Spanish America, am better known by name and military character—impressive to despotic governments— than any other American.” Bringing Someruelos into the U.S. camp was a task that would enable him to regain public confidence “by a display of zeal, integrity, devotion, perseverance and successful exertion. I would give my life for such an opportunity.”
Reluctant to become involved, Jefferson preferred a policy of strict neutrality. “The patriots of Spain have no warmer friends than the Administration of the United States,” he declared, “but it is our duty to say nothing for or against either [side].” Nevertheless, in a final, very public manifestation of confidence in his commanding general, he gave Wilkinson permission to approach Someruelos.
After eight years of compromising collaboration, the president and the general remained as mutually dependent as ever. Despite the dire effect on its fighting ability, Wilkinson turned a blind eye to the Republicans’ relentless political screening of new officers in the enlarged army. The Federalist Boston Gazette complained that “beardless boys who belch beer and democracy” were promoted above non- Republican officers with experience, and fifty years later General Winfield Scott remembered, “Many of the appointments were positively bad, and a majority of the remainder indifferent. Party spirit of that day knew no bounds, and of course was blind to policy. Federalists were almost entirely excluded from selection, though great numbers were eager for the field.”