During the period in question, the White House was occupied by a succession of four gifted and notable presidents, each serving two terms: John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and James Monroe. (Our youthful John Quincy Adams, Dana’s protégé in St. Petersburg, became president in 1825.) Each one in his own way was a giant in American history and each played a significant role in the moulding of the young nation.
But on the global scene, towering over them all, was a supremely illustrious icon of history — Napoleon Bonaparte, a man of unfettered ambition and a genius for action and management. Born of a humble Corsican washerwoman, this lowly corporal of the French army shot up meteorically through the ranks and beyond, with such success that in a matter of a few short years, he found himself Emperor of France. Not only was Napoleon the ruler of that great country, but he also held sway over most of Europe. Through a series of conquests, alliances, and family marriages, Napoleon had dominion over virtually the entire continent by 1811. Only Britain to the west and Russia to the east remained outside his control.
In February of that year, the emperor made an unusually frank declaration to Duke of Otranto Joseph Fouché, the man who, as minister of police, really guaranteed the tranquility of France while his sovereign waged wars. “How can I help it if a great power drives me to become dictator of the world? … I have not yet fulfilled my mission, and I mean to end what I have begun. We need a European code of law, a European court of appeal, a uniform coinage, a common system of weights and measures. The same law must run throughout Europe. I shall fuse all nations into one.… This, my lord duke, is the only solution that pleases me.” First person singular aside, it was a statement of remarkable vision and uncanny prophecy.
Napoleon’s insatiable ambition plunged Europe into a series of wars and in the complex political maelstrom that resulted, Russia found itself drawn into the vortex. As for the United States, it, too, was unwillingly dragged into the fray, albeit more peripherally.
For Napoleon, dominion over the continent was one thing, but “to become dictator of the world” was quite another matter. For that to happen, Britain had to fall into his hamper, and so did Russia. The emperor at first turned his glance to the British, “this island of shopkeepers,” as he disdainfully labelled them — it was the British, after all, who had consistently thwarted him as far back as the 1798 Egyptian campaign. And now, with Admiral Nelson’s spectacular victory at Trafalgar, French naval power had effectively been broken. Britannia ruled the waves, as it continued to do throughout the nineteenth century. A maritime invasion of the United Kingdom was out of the question. The elaborate plans drawn up by Napoleon’s engineers for the digging of a tunnel under the channel were also dismissed.
Napoleon therefore decided to throttle his arch-enemy to death. “The shopkeepers” would be had by a destruction of their commerce — curb all trade and there would be no money and no political power. A series of decrees were promulgated in what became known as the continental system. The decrees effectively closed European ports to the importation of British and colonial goods; there would be no more markets for the islanders. There was no objection, however, to having the British buy continental goods, but for cash only. England’s gold reserves would thus be depleted and British traders and merchants would fall into ruin.
Napoleon’s ambitions, war-torn Europe, the continental system — all seemingly excluded the United States and Russia, and both countries strove hard to maintain a detached, disinterested posture. All to no avail, for diverse economic and political interests would soon force their involvement and the two nations found themselves entangled before long. As the continental system took hold, a complex series of declarations, reversals of alliances, treaties, embargoes, and armed threats took place. France, Britain, the United States, Russia, and other European powers all had to cope together with the confusion and discord seeded by Napoleon’s unfettered appetites. Suffice it to say that the continental system failed in its purpose, and in the events of the day Russia moved even closer to the United States. Although Tsar Alexander had not yet granted Russia’s full diplomatic recognition to the young nation, he did agree to receive officially an American emissary in 1803. Levett Harris, a Philadelphian, was appointed by President Jefferson to be consul in St. Petersburg, where he was greeted enthusiastically not only by the court but also by the populace. He reported:
The marks of friendship and attention which I received in the city were far beyond what I expected or deserved. I should say no more on this subject if I did not think that they were in many instances directed rather to the country to which I belong than to myself. At the fetes of the court I was put on a footing with the foreign ministers, and often, as an American traveler, I found myself more favored than if I had a diplomatic character.… The Emperor invited me to dine with him “en famille,” placed me next to him and conversed with me some time respecting America and France.
The wheels of early-nineteenth-century diplomacy turned slowly, particularly as they were often caught in the tumultuous events of the times: wars, treaties, and changing alliances. It was a full five years after Harris’s arrival in St. Petersburg that the tsar appointed an envoy to the United States. Andrei Dashkov, a bureaucrat in the Ministry of Commerce, was sent to Philadelphia as consul general with the additional and rather cumbersome title of chargé d’affaires near the Congress of the United States.
President Madison and Secretary of State Robert Smith awaited impatiently the arrival of the Russian and in 1808 received him cordially. During the meeting, Dashkov somewhat presumptuously made a request to address Congress, but it fell on deaf ears — a polite but firm no. The president, however, did take the occasion to invite him to the White House for an intimate family dinner, which the Russian accepted with alacrity. Word of the first lady’s penchant for hospitality and entertainment had even reached him in St. Petersburg.
Of all first ladies, Dolly Madison is the most notable of the White House douairières — even Jacqueline Kennedy was a shadow at her feet. This “fine, portly buxom dame” had laughing blue eyes, fair skin, black curls, and she radiated charm. Settling into the presidential residence was no problem for the first lady, inasmuch as she had over the years played hostess for the widowed Jefferson. At receptions, she invariably appeared dressed in an elegant, low-cut empire gown with a trademark turban headpiece, feathers and all. Her buffet tables were weighed down with elaborate dishes of every sort of food. “Lady Presidentess,” as she was lovingly called behind her back, rarely failed to serve an ice cream–filled pastry for dessert, a dish that became the vogue among the discriminating hostesses of the land. Unsurprisingly, Dashkov readily fell under her enchanting spell. Later, during the British invasion of Washington in 1814, Dolly hastily fled the White House in advance of the approaching redcoats — her husband was out of town at the time.[5] To her sister, she wrote a running account of what was happening:
The enemy seemed stronger than had at first been reported, and it might happen that they would reach the city with the intention of destroying it. I am accordingly ready for it; I have pressed as many Cabinet papers into trunks as to fill one carriage. Our private property must be sacrificed, as it is impossible to procure wagons for its transportation … disaffection stalks around us. My friends and acquaintances are all gone … French John [a faithful servant] with his usual activity and resolution, offers to spike the cannon at the gate and lay a train of powder which would blow up the British, should they enter our house.… Mr. Carroll has come to hasten my departure.… [but] I insisted on waiting until the large picture of General Washington is secured and it requires unscrewing from the wall. This process was found too tedious for these precious moments. I ordered the frame to be broken and the canvas to be taken out … the precious canvas is in the hands of two gentlemen from New York.… I must leave this house or the retreating army will make me a prisoner.
George Washington’s official, life-size portrait continues to hang today in the White House, in a rightful place of honour. Following the British withdrawal,