One more humiliating experience was reserved for Monroe before his diplomatic career closed. Following Madison's new set of instructions, he and Pinkney attempted to reopen negotiations for the revision of the discredited treaty of the preceding year. But Canning had reasons of his own for wishing to be rid of a treaty which had been drawn by the late Whig Ministry. He informed the American commissioners arrogantly that "the proposal of the President of the United States for proceeding to negotiate anew upon the basis of a treaty already solemnly concluded and signed, is a proposal wholly inadmissible." His Majesty could therefore only acquiesce in the refusal of the President to ratify the treaty. One week later, James Monroe departed from London, never again to set foot on British soil, leaving Pinkney to assume the duties of Minister at the Court of St. James. For the second time Monroe returned to his own country discredited by the President who had appointed him. In both instances he felt himself the victim of injustice. In spite of his friendship for Jefferson, he was embittered against the Administration and in this mood lent himself all too readily to the schemes of John Randolph, who had already picked him as the one candidate who could beat Madison in the next presidential election.
From the point of view of George Canning and the Tory squirearchy whose mouthpiece he was, the Chesapeake affair was but an incident--an unhappy incident, to be sure, but still only an incident--in the world-wide struggle with Napoleon. What was at stake was nothing less than the commercial supremacy of Great Britain. The astounding growth of Napoleon's empire was a standing menace to British trade. The overthrow of Prussia in the fall of 1806 left the Corsican in control of Central Europe and in a position to deal his long premeditated blow. A fortnight after the battle of Jena, he entered Berlin and there issued the famous decree which was his answer to the British blockade of the French channel ports. Since England does not recognize the system of international law universally observed by all civilized nations--so the preamble read--but by a monstrous abuse of the right of blockade has determined to destroy neutral trade and to raise her commerce and industry upon the ruins of that of the continent, and since "whoever deals on the continent in English goods thereby favors and renders himself an accomplice of her designs," therefore the British Isles are declared to be in a state of blockade. Henceforth all English goods were to be lawful prize in any territory held by the troops of France or her allies; and all vessels which had come from English ports or from English colonies were to be confiscated, together with their cargoes. This challenge was too much for the moral equilibrium of the squires, the shipowners, and the merchants who dominated Parliament. It dulled their sense of justice and made them impatient under the pinpricks which came from the United States. "A few short months of war," declared the Morning Post truculently, "would convince these desperate [American] politicians of the folly of measuring the strength of a rising, but still infant and puny, nation with the colossal power of the British Empire." "Right," said the Times, another organ of the Tory Government, "is power sanctioned by usage." Concession to Americans at this crisis was not to be entertained for a moment, for after all, said the Times, they "possess all the vices of their Indian neighbors without their virtues."