Sir George Prevost, governor in chief of Canada, planned to fight defensively rather than attack the United States.

By MIRIAM GREENBLATT

Washington Irving, who was just beginning to emerge as America’s first successful native-born author, had several times described President James Madison in unflattering terms. To Irving, the president was a man with “his forehead full of wrinkles, a face which has the appearance of a midnight lamp.” It was true that Madison was short and unprepossessing in appearance. Yet on June 1, 1812, when he finally sent his war message to Congress, there were good reasons for him to have a wrinkled brow.

For one thing, the nation’s armed forces were small in number and ill-prepared for combat. Earlier in the year Congress had authorized the acceptance of 50,000 volunteers for a year’s service. But by the time war was declared, fewer than 5,000 men had signed up. In all, the U.S. Army contained perhaps 7,000 troops. That meant the state militias would have to fight, too. But, as would emerge on several occasions, the governors of the various states were reluctant to allow their militiamen to fight outside their own state’s borders. And there would be times when the commanding officers of the militia would simply refuse orders to commit their men, even when the regular troops were threatened.

The armaments and supplies for both militiamen and regular troops would also be at best of uncertain quality throughout the war. After the Revolutionary War, most Americans had not seen much purpose in maintaining a first-class army, so there were precious few new arms of any kind. Many of the heavy artillery pieces that would be used by the Americans in the War of 1812, in fact, had been captured from the British during the Revolution. As for guns, most of the American troops would be armed with the old muzzle-loaded muskets of the kind used in the Revolutionary War. Militiamen, furthermore, all tended to carry their own favorite weapons, so there could be little standardization when it came to spare parts and ammunition.

All other supplies—especially food—conformed to the same low standard. When food was not in short supply it was close to inedible. As it happened, it was during the War of 1812 that “Uncle Sam” emerged as a symbol of the government because of food supplies. Samuel “Uncle Sam”Wilson, a meat provisioner and inspector working for the army around Troy, New York, would stamp the purchased containers of salted meat with a “U.S.” Allegedly those opposed to the war began to claim that the letters stood for “Uncle Sam”—a way of mocking the government. (The name first appeared in print in a Troy newspaper in 1813.) As the usage spread, “Uncle Sam” became a symbol of the United States itself. (The first cartoons with Uncle Sam in his traditional costume did not appear until the 1830s.)

The militiamen, of course, were little more than weekend soldiers— men who spent at most a few hours each week practicing some simple drills and perhaps taking target practice. To make matters worse, even the regular soldiers were poorly trained and without battle experience. Many were not really interested in a military career. They had simply signed up for one year to see what army life was like. As soon as their enlistment term was over, they would take off for home—even if a major battle was set for the following day.

Most of the army’s officers were equally disappointing and unreliable. Winfield Scott, one of the few American army officers to emerge from the War of 1812 as a hero, described the situation this way: “The old officers [those who had fought in the Revolutionary War] had very generally slunk into either sloth, ignorance, or habits of intemperate drinking.” An example of such an officer was Maj. Gen. Henry Dearborn, who would be given command of the campaign against Canada. He was so stiff in the joints and out of touch with his surroundings that he was commonly known as “Granny.”

The War Department was likewise inadequate and unprepared. Congress had refused to fund any enlargement of the department, so the entire staff consisted of Secretary William Eustis and eight clerks.

In addition, the country was sharply divided over the war. Not a single member of the Federalist Party in Congress voted in favor. New England in particular vehemently opposed the conflict. In Hartford, Connecticut, flags were lowered to half-staff when news of the war’s declaration was received, and the state vowed not to send its men to fight. Massachusetts and Rhode Island announced that their citizens would not fight, either. (In fact, as the war went on, New England volunteers provided 19 regiments to the regular army.)

Only the West and the South were truly enthusiastic. There, people marched in parades and drums beat out a call for recruits. “The hour of national vengeance has arrived,” frontiersman Andrew Jackson told his Tennessee militia. They were going to fight “for the establishment of our national character . . . for the protection of our maritime citizens impressed on board British ships of war . . . to seek some indemnity for past injuries, some security against future aggression by the conquest of all the British dominions upon the continent of North America.”

And in that last phrase was summed up the true motive and goal of the war’s most vocal supporters: to conquer Canada. It was not just the bordering land and lakes that they coveted. Many Americans sincerely believed that only by conquering Canada would the British once and for all be removed as a threat to the United States. And only by conquering Canada would the Indians be removed as a threat on the western frontier. As John Randolph, the maverick representative from Roanoke, Virginia, described the “cant of patriotism” he so despised: “Like the whippoorwill, but one monotonous tone—Canada! Canada! Canada!” There was another reason why Jackson and so many other Americans believed that conquering Canada was the way to win the war. The United States was ill equipped to challenge Great Britain at sea. The American fleet numbered only a half dozen frigates, three sloops, seven brigs, and about 70 gunboats (these last too small and light to be of much use). In contrast, the British navy contained hundreds of warships with cannons capable of attacking both American ships and seaports. An American victory at sea seemed impossible.

A victory on land, however, was a different matter. Americans assumed that Britain’s long struggle with France had drained Britain’s resources and that Canada would thus have few soldiers and supplies with which to fight Americans. The most populated part of Canada, moreover, was the province of Quebec, where most of the people were of French descent. How could the British depend on their loyalty? There were the Indians, of course, but General Harrison’s victory at Tippecanoe showed that they would be no problem. Two years earlier, Henry Clay had proclaimed to Congress, “The conquest of Canada is in your power. I trust I shall not be deemed presumptious when I state that I verily believe that the militia of Kentucky are alone competent to place Montreal and Upper Canada at your feet.” Taking Canada would be a breeze— or so the War Hawks promised. Reality proved otherwise.

Unlike the United States, Canada had two capable men heading its armed forces. Both were experienced soldiers, although with very different ideas as to how the war should be run.

Lt. Gen. Sir George Prevost was the governor of Lower Canada (the area north of Vermont that included Montreal) as well as commander in chief of all provinces. Prevost, 44 years of age, was a prudent man, more diplomat than soldier. He was very much aware that his troops were short of rifles and that the lengthy Canadian coastline would be difficult to protect with the limited forces at his command. His plan was to fight a defensive war. In a message to his subordinate, Isaac Brock, Prevost argued that the numbers did not “justify offensive operations being taken, unless they were solely calculated to strengthen a defensive attitude.”

General Brock was the governor of Upper Canada (the area north of Lake Huron, Lake Erie, and Lake Ontario).A muscular, handsome man in his early forties who stood six feet two inches tall, Brock prided himself on being hard as nails. He made his own interpretation of Prevost’s order.

For the previous five years, ever since the Chesapeake incident in 1807, Brock had been preparing for war. He put himself in the boots of his enemy and anticipated what the enemy’s plan might be. The natural place for the Americans to attack Canada was at Montreal, Canada’s major city. Taking Montreal would block the St. Lawrence River and prevent the British from sending reinforcements from Quebec. Once British supply lines to Upper Canada were cut, the Americans could move east from Montreal into Lower Canada and capture Quebec. However, if the Indians were to attack the Americans on their left flank as they moved north toward Montreal, the invasion would fail. Brock favored attack rather than defense.

Brock’s assumptions about American actions were right on the mark. President Madison put Maj. Gen. Henry “Granny” Dearborn in charge of the attack on Canada—and Dearborn decided to strike at Montreal. His plan called for four invasion forces to cross the border simultaneously. The first force would move from Fort Detroit into the area north of Lake Erie and take care of the western Indians. Two other forces would start out from Sackett’s Harbor and Fort Niagara in New York and pin down the British troops north of Lake Ontario so they could not be used to defend Montreal.

The last column would march northward along Lake Champlain and the Richelieu River and seize Montreal. Madison’s choice of Dearborn was a poor one. So was Madison’s choice of Brig. Gen. William Hull to lead the attack from Fort Detroit. Hull was fat and red-faced from too much eating and drinking. He was almost two decades older than the British generals, and although he, too, had participated bravely in many of the battles of the Revolutionary War, he had never planned a military campaign.

Even before war was officially declared, Hull had gathered 2,000 regulars and militia and begun to march north from Urbana, Ohio, to Fort Detroit, across 200 miles of unbroken wilderness. A contingent of troops was sent ahead to hack their way through the underbrush so that the remaining soldiers and supply wagons could get through. Unfortunately, many of Hull’s men caught malaria in the swamp-filled forests, while others dropped dead from exhaustion. In addition, news of the official declaration of war did not reach Hull until July 2 because Secretary of War Eustis sent the message through ordinary mail. In contrast, the British ambassador in Washington sent the news via express rider. So both Prevost and Brock received word of the outbreak of hostilities on June 24 and were ready to act before Hull was.

The Surrender of Detroit by John Wycliffe Lowes Forster.

By MIRIAM GREENBLATT

Hull reached Fort Detroit on July 5, 1812. The word from Eustis was to quickly take Fort Malden, one of a series of British forts that had been built on the Canadian side of Lake Erie after the signing of Jay’s Treaty. Unknown to Hull, a group of Indians had been shadowing the Americans. They had been sent out by their chief, Tecumseh.

Hull made his first attempt to attack Fort Malden on July 12. Much to his chagrin, hundreds of militiamen refused to obey his orders. They had not been recruited to fight on foreign soil, they said. So although Fort Malden was defended by only a few British troops and could have easily been captured, Hull decided to wait.

While Hull dallied, events helped build up a sense of fear among the American troops. A contingent of soldiers had been sent back to escort supplies and militia requested from the governor of Ohio. But before they could reach Detroit, Tecumseh’s men attacked, leaving 17 Americans dead and many more wounded. Then news filtered in that Fort Michilimackinac, at the northern tip of the Michigan Territory, had surrendered to the British. Hull now took his troops back to Detroit.

Brock had used Hull’s delays to advantage. He arranged for a flotilla of ships to transport troops and supplies to reinforce Fort Malden. He also began a series of psychological operations designed to frighten the Americans further. He made sure that a bogus document got into Hull’s nervous hands. The document referred to 5,000 Indians ready to descend on Detroit. Then, on August 15, he sent a message to Hull demanding the immediate surrender of Detroit and added, “It is far from my intention to join in a war of extermination, but you must be aware, that the numerous bodies of Indians who have attached themselves to my troops, will be beyond control the moment the contest commences.”

Brock’s psychological tactics had the desired effect on Hull. During the Revolutionary War, he had seen the work of the Indians—the faces of scalped children, the remains of charred homes, and the mangled bodies of women. His own daughter and grandchildren were among those in Fort Detroit. When Hull was nervous, he would unconsciously stuff his mouth with wads of chewing tobacco until the brown saliva dribbled down over his beard, neckcloth, and vest. Now, watching the saliva dribbling down, Hull’s officers realized that the general was falling apart. He was convinced that there were hordes of British in front of him and thousands of Indians behind him. His numbers may not have been accurate, but the British and the Indians were indeed in those positions, awaiting the final word to attack Detroit.

A few days earlier, Brock had met with Tecumseh. Shortly after midnight on August 12, a scout brought the Indian leader to the general’s headquarters. Brock was impressed by the stately figure dressed in a simple suit of deerskin, fringed at the seams. Tecumseh was equally impressed by the tall, blue-eyed man wearing a scarlet coat and shiny boots.

The conversation between the two leaders took time, but both men came away pleased at the contact and ready to join forces. Brock wrote later that “a more sagacious and gallant Warrior does not I believe exist. He has the admiration of every one who conversed with him.” Tecumseh summed up his feelings about Brock in four words: “This is a man.” Their relations were further cemented when Tecumseh unrolled a strip of elm bark, removed his knife from his belt, and scratched out an accurate map of Fort Detroit and its surroundings.

When Hull received Brock’s demand for surrender on August 15, he panicked. He sent back a reply refusing to surrender but in words that clearly betrayed his uncertainty. Brock thereupon began bombarding the fort. There was a brief respite during the night that gave Tecumseh the opportunity to surround Detroit from the south side. Then, on the morning of August 16, the British and Indian troops launched an attack.

Most military historians agree that Hull could have repulsed the attack. He had more men and supplies than the enemy did. But it is also probably true that a long siege would have caused starvation and loss of life among the 800 civilians huddled in the fort. So Hull surrendered and at noon of August 16, Brock entered Fort Detroit and proclaimed that the whole Michigan Territory once again belonged to Great Britain. Then the Indians poured in, shooting their guns and seizing the horses. True to his promise to Brock, however, Tecumseh saw to it that no prisoners were molested.

Hull’s defeat was received with disbelief and fury throughout the United States. As one American soldier who had been at the fort wrote later: “We could have whipped hell out of the rascals but General Hull has proved himself a traitor and a coward. . . .We were made to submit to the most shameful surrender that ever took place in the world. Our brave Captain Harry James cursed and swore like a pirate, and cried like his heart would break.” Two years later, in 1814, Hull was brought before a court-martial. He was found guilty of cowardice and neglect of duty and was sentenced to be shot. However, President Madison spared his life on the grounds of Hull’s age and previous military service.

The fall of Fort Detroit was not the only disaster that the United States experienced in August 1812. About a week earlier, Hull had dispatched frontiersman William Wells to Fort Dearborn, on the present site of Chicago. He was to instruct Capt. Nathan Heald, commander of the fort, to evacuate its 100 or so soldiers and civilians as quickly as possible east to Fort Wayne. The garrison contained enough supplies for six months, and the American troops there did not want to leave. But Heald, as a good soldier, agreed to follow the general’s orders.

The area around Fort Dearborn was filled with Potawatomi Indians. Believing them to be friendly, Heald gave them all the trade goods from the post store that were not needed for the march to Fort Wayne. Under cover of night, he also dumped all the fort’s whiskey into the Chicago River and destroyed surplus weapons and ammunition. Unfortunately, Heald’s assessment of the friendliness of the Potawatomi was a gross error. Tecumseh’s agents and British traders had done their work well. When the Indians discovered that Heald had destroyed the whiskey and the guns, the two items they most wanted, they were furious.

On August 15, Wells led his party through the stockade door and along a path that would someday be Chicago’s famed Michigan Avenue. The Americans were escorted by a column of Potawatomi. Legend has it that Wells, who had lived among the Indians for much of his life, had painted his face with black gunpowder, an Indian sign that he expected death before sundown.

Shortly after the Americans left Fort Dearborn, the Potawatomi escort disappeared into the coastal sand dunes. A mile and a half from the safety of the fort, Wells spotted the Indian ambush. But it was too late. Heald and his men fought furiously with bayonet and musket, but the small force of 57 Americans was overwhelmed by some 500 Indian warriors. Wells himself was killed by the Potawatomi chief Blackbird. The chief then carried out an Indian ritual that paid tribute to Wells’s courage: Blackbird cut out Wells’s heart and ate it raw.

Most of the American civilians in the party also perished. Children huddled in a wagon were killed and scalped. Some of the soldiers’ wives, armed with their husbands’ swords, valiantly tried to fight off their attackers and were hacked to pieces. The few civilians who survived became captives of the Indians and were later distributed among villages in the area.

By MIRIAM GREENBLATT

A few months later, the United States suffered yet another defeat. After the surrender of Fort Detroit, Madison replaced Hull with Tippecanoe hero William Henry Harrison. By September 1812, Harrison had assembled an army of some 10,000 men, many of them new recruits from Kentucky and Tennessee. He then set out to retake Fort Detroit. But autumn rains turned the wilderness to mud. So Harrison decided to wait until winter, when the Detroit River would freeze over and he would be able to attack across the ice.

On December 20,Harrison ordered Gen. James Winchester to set up a post at the Maumee Rapids opposite Fort Malden. When Winchester arrived at the rapids, he found two messengers from the village of Frenchtown (near present-day Monroe, Michigan) begging for help. The village lay 40 miles ahead on the Raisin River, and the 33 families living there were under the control of 250 British and Indian troops. After consulting with his officers, Winchester sent an advance party to Frenchtown under the command of two popular officers from Kentucky, Colonels William Lewis and John Allen.

Indian security measures tended to be careless during the frigid winter months, and Lewis and Allen were able to surprise the enemy. The Kentuckians swarmed into Frenchtown and by dusk had driven the British and Indians away. The Kentuckians were ecstatic. After months of cold and hunger, there was cider, whiskey, butter, fresh apples, and the warmth of a house and a fireplace.

When Winchester learned that Frenchtown had been secured, he moved up the rest of his 1,000 men. On the opposite shore, Col. Henry Proctor, the British commander at Fort Malden, was also on the move with 1,200 to 1,400 men, half of them Indians.

At dawn on January 22, 1813, Proctor’s forces closed in on Frenchtown. By the end of the day, the Battle of Raisin River was over—and the Americans had lost. Winchester agreed to surrender provided Proctor would protect American prisoners from the Indians. But Proctor was in a hurry to return to Fort Malden before any reinforcements arrived from Harrison. So he left only a small British guard on duty. The Indians fell on the American prisoners with tomahawk and scalping knife.

Between the battle and the massacre, more than 400 Americans died at Frenchtown. Hundreds more, those still able to walk, were marched north by the Indians, never to be heard of again. Harrison learned of the defeat when 30 survivors of Frenchtown limped into his camp. He promptly retreated to the Portage River. When news of the event reached the newspapers, the United States had a new battle cry: “Remember the Raisin!”

The western thrusts into Canada had failed to produce any success. Actions along the central part of the border proved equally dismal. For his first operation in that sector, General “Granny” Dearborn had chosen Stephen Van Rensselaer, a military amateur, to lead an army of 6,000 Americans across the Niagara River with the goal of cutting the portage road between Lake Ontario and Lake Erie. Unfortunately, most of these Americans were militiamen, lacking in both experience and leadership; they also lacked proper food and supplies and were plagued by illness. Opposing the Americans were 1,600 British regulars and 300 Indians under the command of the experienced General Brock.

The Americans’ initial target was the high ground overlooking the village of Queenstown. Their first attempt to cross the Niagara River met with failure. On the night of October 10–11, 1812, in a driving downpour, Van Rensselaer’s troops slogged their way to a crossing site, only to find that someone—either accidentally or deliberately—had taken the boat that was laden with the oars for all the other boats. Two nights later, on October 12, a second attempt was made. This time, there were not enough boats to transport all the troops, so only 800 men crossed over, while tools and extra ammunition had to be left behind. Commanding these men was 26-year-old Lt. Col.Winfield Scott, who had joined the U.S. Army only four years before.

The Americans had no sooner landed when a British sentry sounded an alarm. Spread out along the riverbank, with the British on Queenstown Heights, the Americans were sitting ducks, and nine officers and 45 enlisted men were soon dead. However, the Americans managed to struggle to the high ground and began shooting effectively. One bullet struck and killed General Brock. As British troops rushed to avenge his death, Van Rensselaer realized that a possible victory was slipping away. On the opposite side of the river, he tried to get fresh troops to cross, but no matter how hard he pleaded, the inexperienced militiamen refused to go: “I found that at the very moment when complete victory was in our hands, the Ardor of the unengaged Troops had entirely subsided. . . . I rode in all directions—urged men by every consideration to pass over, but in vain.”

A short time later, the Americans on the other side of the river— exhausted and with their cartridge boxes empty—raised the white flag. Some had tried to swim back but drowned in the swift Niagara River. Those who surrendered would later be exchanged for prisoners, and some—such as Colonel Scott—would go on to distinguish themselves in other battles.

Meanwhile, as part of General Dearborn’s four-prong plan to take Canada, an attack was launched across Lake Ontario. On April 25, 1813, a flotilla of ships left Sackett’s Harbor in New York. Two days later, some 1,600 men, commanded by Gen. Zebulon Pike (a noted explorer after whom Pikes Peak in Colorado is named), landed at York (present-day Toronto), the capital of Upper Canada. Under cover of naval bombardment, the American troops attacked the 800 British and Indian soldiers defending York. With superior forces and naval support, it did not take long for Pike’s army to overwhelm the enemy, killing 60, wounding 89, and capturing 290.

Unfortunately, American casualties were even higher, due to a terrifying explosion in the garrison’s ammunition storeroom. The blast from hundreds of barrels of gunpowder and a huge amount of ammunition caused more than 300 deaths, including that of Pike himself, who was killed by a large falling stone that crushed his chest. American army surgeons worked round the clock, wading in blood and “cutting off arms, legs and trepanning [boring holes] in heads.”

Historians disagree as to the cause of the explosion and who was responsible. American soldiers and sailors, however, were furious at the loss of life and determined on revenge. Over the next four days they not only destroyed two unfinished British frigates and all the military and naval supplies in York. They also torched the city’s parliamentary and other public buildings, demolished a printing press, and sacked “every house they found deserted.” The British would later use this episode as a reason for burning Washington, D.C.

In the months after the attack on York, there were other battles in the northwestern sector. Gen. William Henry Harrison had been gathering his forces at Fort Meigs, on the Maumee River in Ohio. In May 1813, British forces led by General Proctor, supported by Tecumseh and some of his warriors, attacked the fort, but they were held off for eight days before they abandoned the attempt. However, the British and Indians did surprise a unit of Kentuckians who were making their way to reinforce Harrison’s forces at Fort Meigs.

Hundreds of Americans were killed or captured, and some of the Indians began to massacre even the prisoners. Tecumseh came riding up on horseback and intervened to stop the slaughter, actually striking his own warriors with the flat side of his tomahawk. Then, it is said, Tecumseh rode up to Proctor and scolded him severely, saying: “Begone! You are unfit to command. I conquer to save, and you to murder.”

In late July Proctor returned to lay siege to Fort Meigs, but again Harrison’s men repulsed the British and Indians. Proctor then moved on to attack Fort Stephenson, also in Ohio some 25 miles east of Fort Meigs. Since Maj. George Croghan had only 160 men in the fort and Proctor had some 1,400, Harrison ordered Croghan to abandon the fort. Croghan, only 23 years old, sent back the reply: “We have determined to maintain this place, and by heaven, we will.” The Kentucky riflemen in the fort were sharpshooters and held off repeated charges by the British troops. After a while Proctor called off the attack and went back to Fort Malden.

By September 1813, there was a turnaround in the situation along the U.S.-Canadian border, although it had little to do with Dearborn’s four-pronged strategy and more to do with the victory of Oliver Hazard Perry on Lake Erie. With Lake Erie now controlled by the Americans, the British were no longer able to move supplies so easily from the east to the west. Accordingly, Proctor decided to abandon Fort Malden and retreat northeastward up the Thames River, a move that would stretch the Americans’ own supply lines.

Tecumseh bitterly opposed Proctor’s decision. Why were the British leaving after only one defeat? If they left, it would mean the end of the Indians’ struggle to keep their ancestral hunting grounds. Tecumseh’s words, recorded by the British, turned out to be prophetic:

You always told us to remain here and take care of our land. . . . You always told us you would never draw your foot off British ground; but now, father, we see that you are drawing back, and we are sorry to see our father doing so without seeing the enemy. We must compare our father’s conduct to a fat dog, that carries his tail on his back, but when frightened, drops it between his legs and runs off. . . . Father, you have got the arms and ammunition which our great father [the British king] sent for his children. If you have any idea of going away, give them to us, and you may go and welcome. Our lives are in the hands of the great Spirit. We are determined to defend our lands, and if it be His will, we wish to leave our bones upon it.

But Proctor felt he had no choice, and Tecumseh reluctantly agreed to accompany the British. Abandoning Fort Malden on September 24, 1813, Proctor proceeded along the north bank of the Thames River, with Harrison and an American army of 9,500 men in hot pursuit. On October 5, the ragged, dispirited enemy—numbering about 600–800 British regulars and 500–1,000 Indians—made a stand about one and one-half miles from Moraviantown.

The battle lasted about one hour. The British line collapsed in less than five minutes. The Indians were harder to defeat. Fighting from the underbrush, they tried to repulse Harrison’s troops, pressing them back towards the road. It was reported by Americans that they could hear Tecumseh’s cry above the din of battle, “Be brave, be brave!” And then he was heard no more.

There have been many questions concerning the circumstances surrounding Tecumseh’s death. Some claimed they saw the Indian chief fall with a gunshot wound in his chest. Others claimed to have seen his body after some Kentuckians—in revenge for the Raisin River massacre—cut strips of skin from its thighs and other areas to make into souvenir pouches. What seems much more likely is that Tecumseh’s body was taken away by his warriors under cover of darkness and secretly buried. In any event, what mattered most was that his death marked the end of the dream of confederation among the northern tribes.

Casualties in the Battle of the Thames were surprisingly light. Seven Americans were killed and 22 wounded, compared to 18 British soldiers killed and 25 wounded. More than 600 British soldiers were taken prisoner, and about $1 million worth of weapons was captured. Only 33 bodies of Indians were found, and historians believe that most of the dead Indians—like Tecumseh—were carried away from the battlefield at night.

The outcome of the battle affected the two commanding generals in different ways. Proctor reached safety but was court-martialed and “suspended from rank and pay” for six months. Harrison did not pursue the enemy further but returned to Washington a conquering hero. The Northwest Territory was once more in American hands.

There would be several more battles along the Canadian frontier in the central and eastern sectors, with each side winning its share and nothing truly decisive resulting. As part of the grand strategy that called for taking Montreal, the American generals Wade Hampton and James Wilkinson led their forces toward that city in the fall of 1813, but each turned back after minor engagements near the St. Lawrence River— at Châteaugay on October 25 for Hampton, at Chrysler’s Farm on November 11 for Wilkinson. In December 1813, the British conquered Fort George and Fort Niagara on Lake Ontario. On July 3, 1814, Gen. Jacob Brown took 5,000 American troops across the Niagara River and captured Fort Erie opposite Buffalo, New York. Two days later, one of General Brown’s subordinates, Gen. Winfield Scott, led American troops in a victory over the British in a field at Chippewa, just north of Fort Erie. And on July 25, troops under General Brown and General Scott engaged the British at Lundy’s Lane, just north of Chippewa, in one of the most fiercely contested battles of the war. Both generals were wounded and both sides suffered extremely heavy casualties. Although the battle ended in a standoff, it diminished the British threat in this central sector of the Canadian front.

But the British in Canada now held the advantage in terms of experienced troops. To the east, Prevost had 10,000 British regulars gathered outside Montreal. In September 1814, he set off to invade the United States, and by September 6 he reached Plattsburg, New York, at the western tip of Lake Champlain. The Americans could count on only some 1,500 regulars and a few thousand militia. In the end, though, the Battle of Plattsburg was to be fought on the water. And although that particular battle was a clear American victory, it meant only that the British were turned back from their own invasion plan. It did not enable the Americans to take any part of Canada. All the many battles fought from the Michigan peninsula to Montreal, from the Raisin River to Lake Champlain, all the thousands of casualties on both sides, all had resulted in a stalemate. The grand goal of capturing Canada would come to nothing.