The War of 1812 (Part 1): Humiliation, Hawks, and Heroism

The morning mist hung heavy over Lake Erie. He stands on the deck of his flagship, watching as nine British vessels emerge from the haze. They came out like resurrected ghosts, as if they found their shapes in the sun and the light gave them purpose. The sound of the wind changes in his ears, and he realizes that it has turned against him. He knows his ships were outgunned. The majority of his men have not seen battle. A thundering boom sounds across the waves, and the resulting splash of a cannonball showers the bow with lake water. The British long guns firing at 900 yards will be in range in minutes. The formation of the enemy ships tells him that fire would be concentrated on him, cutting off the head of the fleet so that it would flounder under the barrage of the oncoming metal storm.

For a moment, a swell of fear floods him. He feels his heart sink, and his shoulders begin to slump. He looks from his left and right at the ships that surrounded him, and then back at the oncoming fleet. Then, he feels it, a change. The wind blows into the back of his head. His coat flaps in the wind, and in the distance, the same light that shone on the enemy now envelopes him. The defined forms of undefeated skill and power seemed to him to be smaller, surmounted by his own will and intention.

This happens all in a moment. He touches the flag he'd made, emblazoned with the dying words of his friend, Captain James Lawrence: "Don't give up the ship."

And when he draws his sword and begins shouting orders, he does so, never intending to sheath it again.

The Gathering Storm

To understand the War of 1812, we must first understand the world of 1812. Napoleon Bonaparte is moving across Europe like a juggernaut, his Grande Armée marching toward Moscow even as American congressmen debated war. Britain and France had been locked in mortal combat since 1793, and both superpowers treated neutral nations like the United States, like pawns on a chessboard.

One way this manifested for Americans was humiliation at sea. Since 1803, the Royal Navy had claimed the right to stop American merchant ships and search for British deserters. But their definition of "British" was broad. Any sailor who spoke English and could not prove through paperwork that they were American citizens might be dragged away. Between 1803 and 1812, over 6,000 American citizens were captured in this way and pressed into British service. Taking a step back, if you’re wondering why sailors pressed into service didn’t simply escape once they made landfall, it’s because escape was not that simple. Groups called press gangs held control of the ports at this time and were responsible for rounding up any sailors who tried to escape. If caught, these men were tried for desertion, which was punishable by death, or they were severely beaten. This, coupled with a public apathy to the plight of such men, meant that they would be escaping into a hostile territory.

One such case was of a man named John Pierce, a Massachusetts sailor seized from the merchant ship Betsey in 1810. His wife, Sarah, wrote desperately to Congress: "My husband was born in Salem, has never been out of American waters until this voyage, yet he is now forced to serve those who were our enemies in the Revolution. I have three children who cry for their father. Will our government abandon its citizens to slavery?"

The most infamous incident occurred on June 22, 1807, when HMS Leopard fired upon USS Chesapeake off the Virginia coast, killing three Americans and wounding eighteen. The Chesapeake was not prepared for battle, had cargo all over its deck, and barely had time to fire off one shot before being forced to strike its colors. The British then boarded the American frigate and dragged away four sailors. One of them, Jenkin Ratford, was later hanged as a deserter, though he was actually an American citizen.

The incident sent shockwaves through the United States. In Norfolk, mobs attacked British sailors and fought back against press gangs. In New York, citizens burned British flags. In his journals, President Thomas Jefferson wrote in a private letter: "Never since the Battle of Lexington have I seen this country in such a state of exasperation as at present."

The Economic War

With Americans being abducted by the British across the sea and harbors, many in the United States wanted a military response. Jefferson's response, however, was economic. In 1807, he signed The Embargo Act, prohibiting all American ships from trading with foreign ports. Jefferson believed this would force Britain and France to respect American neutrality. Instead, it nearly destroyed the American economy.

In ports from Boston to Baltimore, ships rotted at anchor. The price of tobacco and cotton plummeted. Unemployment soared. In New England, where shipping was the lifeblood of the economy, the embargo was seen as worse than war itself. Timothy Pickering, a Federalist from Massachusetts, declared: "Mr. Jefferson has done more to destroy American commerce in one year than all the British depredations of the past decade."

Smuggling became rampant. On Lake Champlain, entire communities survived by illegally trading with Canada. When federal agents tried to stop them, they were met with violence. In one incident near St. Albans, Vermont, smugglers killed three customs officers and left their bodies in the snow with notes pinned to their coats: "Death to all who interfere with free trade."

What made the effects of the Embargo Act worse is that it penalized Americans more than it did the English. Great Britain had dependencies on American cotton and other goods, but due to their size, power, and concentration on the war with Napoleon, they saw the embargo as a mere inconvenience, while Americans saw it as life-altering. The embargo was repealed in March 1809, but the damage was done.

Voices of War

As the older generation of Revolutionary leaders faded from power, a new breed of politician emerged. They, and a growing majority of Americans, were tired of being pushed by the British.

Henry Clay of Kentucky, just thirty-four years old when elected Speaker of the House in 1811, became their leader. Tall, charismatic, with a voice that could fill a hall, Clay thundered against British arrogance. "We are told to bear these injuries with patience," he declared to Congress. "But there is a point beyond which human patience cannot endure. That point has been passed!"

John C. Calhoun of South Carolina, even younger at twenty-nine, was equally passionate. "The question is not merely about sailors' rights or trade regulations," he argued. "It is whether the United States shall maintain its independence or submit to be a colony again in all but name."

These "War Hawks," as their opponents mockingly called them (a name they embraced with pride), had additional grievances beyond maritime issues. In the Northwest Territory, modern-day Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, Native American resistance to settlers had intensified. The Shawnee leader Tecumseh and his brother were opposing settlers directly.

Tecumseh, a powerful and influential Shawnee chief, warrior, and orator, believed that no one person could buy or sell land. He believed that it belonged to the Great Spirit, and that spirit had given the land to all Native American Tribes, excluding all white men. When the Governor of the Indiana Territory, William Henry Harrison, negotiated the Treaty of Fort Wayne in 1809, Tecumseh confronted Harrison in open debate with 300 armed warriors. In short, the conversation did not go well, and Tecumseh began a campaign to build a confederacy against the United States.

On the other side, Harrison and other leaders were convinced, with some justification, that British agents in Canada were supplying Tecumseh's confederation with weapons. British rifles were found after Native raids, and British medals were worn by Native warriors. Whether it was true or not became irrelevant. Perception held sway, and momentum to war accelerated.

On November 7, 1811, while Tecumseh was traveling south to recruit more tribes, Harrison moved to attack Prophetstown, the confederation's capital on the Tippecanoe River. The battle was strategically decisive. Tecumseh’s brother was in command and had been told not to attack until their confederacy was fully built out. At this time, his brother was considered a prophet by the tribes – and by himself – and he promised that magic would secure the victory against Harrison and launched a preemptive attack. It failed, and Tecumseh’s brother was killed, his men either killed, captured, or dispersed. Prophetstown was burned, its food supplies destroyed. As a result, the confederation's momentum was broken. When Tecumseh returned and saw the ashes of his capital, he knew his only hope lay with the British. "These white Americans are determined to crush us," he told his followers. "We must take the British hand, though it has struck us before, for it is the only hand strong enough to stop them."

News of Tippecanoe electrified America. The War Hawks claimed it proved British support of the Native Americans. Felix Grundy of Tennessee declared: "British intrigue and British gold are behind every Indian tomahawk raised against our people!" Even those who had opposed the war began to waver.

By spring 1812, President James Madison faced an impossible choice. America was militarily unprepared; the regular army numbered fewer than 7,000 men, scattered in small garrisons from Maine to Louisiana. The navy had just sixteen ships to face Britain's 600. The treasury was nearly empty.

Yet the pressure for war was becoming irresistible. On June 1, 1812, Madison sent his war message to Congress. It was a catalogue of grievances: impressment, violations of neutral rights, encouragement of Native attacks, and "a series of acts hostile to the United States as an independent and neutral nation." The debate was almost violent. John Randolph of Virginia warned: "We are about to launch into a sea of blood and destruction from which there is no return." Josiah Quincy of Massachusetts was even more dire: "This war will be the grave of American prosperity and perhaps of American liberty."

But the War Hawks had the votes. On June 4, the House voted 79 to 49 for war. On June 17, the Senate concurred, 19 to 13, the narrowest margin for any American war declaration. The next day, Madison signed the declaration. America was once again at war with Great Britain.

A Bad Start

The American strategy seemed simple on paper: attack and conquer Canada while Britain was distracted by Napoleon. Former President Jefferson had said acquiring Canada would be "a mere matter of marching." General William Hull, commanding American forces at Detroit, boasted he would celebrate Independence Day in Montreal. The reality was much different. Hull crossed into Canada on July 12, 1812, with 2,000 men. His proclamation promising liberation from British "tyranny" fell flat as most Canadians, including recent American immigrants, remained loyal to the Crown. This meant that Hull couldn’t rely on additional recruitment during his march, and in some cases, expect resistance or obstruction as he and the army traveled north.

Worse, Hull's supply lines were immediately cut by British forces and their Native allies. Tecumseh, now a brigadier general in the British Army, led lightning raids that terrified American troops. Tales spread of scalping and torture. Barbaric tactics of Americans being flayed alive circulated among the troops and citizens. The effect was psychologically devastating, and the raids hurt morale. All of this culminated in a humiliating retreat back to Detroit in less than a month.

On August 15, British General Isaac Brock, with just 1,300 men (including 600 Native warriors), surrounded Detroit. Brock sent Hull a message: "The numerous body of Indians who have attached themselves to my troops will be beyond my control the moment the contest commences." In summary, Brock was promising the massacre of every living thing in Detroit. As a result, Hull's nerve broke. On August 16, 1812, he surrendered Detroit without firing a shot. When the news reached Washington, Madison was beside himself. His Treasury Secretary, Albert Gallatin, wrote: "The surrender of Detroit is a disgrace that will not soon be forgotten. We began this war to defend our national honor. We have instead covered ourselves with shame."

Americans are Not to Be Underestimated

As American armies failed horribly on land, a change in the wind came from an unexpected quarter, the sea. I cannot overstate how powerful the British Fleet was at this time. Their naval supremacy was dogma. Their sailors were disciplined and battle-hardened in the war with Napoleon and from other conflicts. No British frigate had surrendered to an enemy ship in over a decade. Thankfully, American shipbuilders, one in particular, also knew this and decided to innovate.

Naval Architect Joshua Humphreys decided to address Britain’s naval supremacy through a new plan. He designed a ship that was bigger and longer, able to house 44 guns instead of the standard 38 for a British frigate. Incorporating a system of diagonal riders or beams to allow for great rigidity and speed, he was able to integrate a Live Oak hull. Live Oak was very dense, thick, and durable. The ship was built and commissioned as the USS Constitution and was able to actually carry 50 guns instead of the planned 44 – because God Bless America.

On August 19, 1812, USS Constitution met HMS Guerriere 750 miles east of Boston. As the ships maneuvered for position, Captain Hull of the USS Constitution held his fire until the range was just 50 yards. Then he roared: "Now, boys! Pour it into them!" The mass of firepower from the American gunnery was devastating. In thirty minutes, Guerriere's masts were shot away, her hull shattered. As British cannonballs literally bounced off the Constitution's thick oak sides, an American sailor shouted: "Huzza! Her sides are made of iron!" giving birth to the nickname "Old Ironsides."

When the British Captain surrendered his sword to Hull, he could barely speak. When news reached London, The Times wrote: "The loss of Guerriere spreads a degree of gloom through the town which it is painful to observe." Word spread of American Naval power, and more victories followed. Americans celebrated. Newspapers that had opposed the war now crowed about American prowess.

The Naval Chronicle in Britain warned: "The Americans are not to be underestimated at sea. They fight with a determination that reminds one uncomfortably of our own sailors."

Continued Progress

But individual naval victories could not overcome British numerical superiority. By early 1813, the Royal Navy had clamped a tight blockade on American ports. As a result, American commerce virtually ceased. Prices for imported goods tripled, then quadrupled. The war was becoming a test of endurance.

Meanwhile, on the frontier, the war had become a brutal struggle. American forces marched on York (modern-day Toronto) and took the city. During the retreat, a British commander ordered that the gunpowder supply within the city be destroyed. The resulting blast caused a mass casualty event – killing over 200 American soldiers and their commander- and was seen as a booby trap rather than a rational action of a retreating army. This misunderstanding caused the Americans to go wild, ignoring their leaders as they looted and burned the entire city to the ground. British and Native forces retaliated with vengeful, vicious raids on American settlements. The rules of civilized warfare were quickly breaking down.

Four months later, a young Oliver Hazard Perry prepared his fleet of nine small ships on Lake Erie. Control of the Great Lakes was vital. The winner could move troops and supplies at will, potentially cutting off their opponent and forcing action through attrition. The loser would be forced to use primitive roads through wilderness, vulnerable to ambush, delays, and nature.

Perry had built his fleet from scratch at what is now Erie, Pennsylvania. His flagship, the USS Lawrence, was named for his friend James Lawrence, who had died crying, "Don't give up the ship!" as the USS Chesapeake was captured by the British. Perry had sewn those words into his battle flag.

On the morning of September 10, 1813, Perry's lookout spotted British sails. The wind was against the Americans, giving their opponent the advantage. The British had larger ships, more powerful guns, and more experienced men. Perry's officers urged extreme caution and suggested that they wait for better conditions.

Perry's response was immediate: "Gentlemen, we came here to fight. That is what we shall do."

His nine vessels formed their battle line. As the ships approached, he (and his officers) knew that the next few hours would determine not just the fate of Lake Erie, but possibly the entire war. If they lost, the Northwest would be at Britain's mercy. If they won, it would be an important American victory in the war. Perry assessed his line of ships one last time and gave the order to go straight at the British.

The British commander, Robert Barclay, was equally aware of the stakes. A veteran who had lost an arm serving under Nelson at Trafalgar, he told his crew, "England expects every man to do his duty. Lord Nelson's spirit watches us today." He ordered his ships into formation and advanced on the Americans.

At 11:45 AM, the British opened fire with their long guns. Perry held his fire, knowing that he was still out of range. The British shells tore through his masts and hull. Perry realized that the British ships were concentrating their firepower on the Lawrence. Blood began to slick the decks. Splinters showered his men like hail, blinding and killing them as they held their positions. Casualties mounted. The ship’s rigging was shredded. When Perry was finally in range, he ordered the remaining guns to fire as his ship took broadside after broadside, turning the Lawrence into a floating wreck. Still, Perry fought on.

By 2:00 PM, the Lawrence was dead in the water. Of her 103-man crew, 83 were dead or wounded. Every gun on her engaged side was dismounted. Perry stood amid the chaos, calm, resolute, shouting orders and not realizing that his uniform was torn by flying splinters and metal. He drew his sword as the other ships on his line began to fire.

And what happened next became legend...