THE government of the United States reached, March 4, 1811,
the lowest point of its long decline. President Madison had remained so
passive before domestic faction, while so active in foreign affairs,
that the functions of government promised to end in confusion. Besides
the greater failures of the last session, more than one personal slight
had been inflicted on the President. He obtained the confirmation of
Joel Barlow as Armstrong’s successor at Paris, by a vote of twenty-one
to eleven in the Senate; but when he nominated Alexander Wolcott
of Connecticut to succeed Justice Cushing on the Supreme Bench, he
met a sharp rebuff. The selection was far from brilliant, but New
England offered no great choice among Republicans suited to the
bench. Sullivan was dead; Levi Lincoln declined the office; Barnabas
Bidwell, detected in a petty defalcation, had absconded to Canada;
Joseph Story, still a young man, only thirty-one years of age, was
obnoxious to many Republicans on account of his hostility to the
embargo, and particularly to Jefferson, who took personal interest in
this appointment.[279] The President could think of no one who brought
stronger recommendations than Wolcott, and accordingly sent his name
to the Senate. A few days afterward John Randolph wrote to his friend
Nicholson,[280]--
“The Senate have rejected the nomination of Alexander Wolcott
to the bench of the Supreme Court, twenty-four to nine. The
President is said to have felt great mortification at this
result. The truth seems to be that he is President _de
jure_ only. Who exercises the office _de facto_ I know
not, but it seems agreed on all hands that ‘there is something
behind the throne greater than the throne itself.’”
February 21 the President nominated J. Q. Adams, then absent as
minister at St. Petersburg, to the same place, and the Senate
unanimously confirmed the appointment. The rejection of Wolcott had no
meaning further than showing the opinion held by the Republican party
of their President’s judgment.
“Our Cabinet presents a novel spectacle in the world;” continued
Randolph. “Divided against itself, and the most deadly animosity
raging between its principal members,--what can come of it but
confusion, mischief, and ruin? Macon is quite out of heart.”
Gallatin was also out of heart. The conduct of Duane and his “Aurora”
put additional venom into the wounds made by the session. Commonly
some foundation of truth or probability lay beneath political attacks;
some show of evidence or some responsible voucher was alleged if not
produced, and the charges against public men, to be accepted, were
shaped to suit the known character and habits of the victims; but
this was not the case with Duane’s assertions of Gallatin’s wealth,
speculations, embezzlements, and secret intrigues. Duane assumed the
truth of his own inventions, and although few persons might be so
credulous as to believe him, many were so far influenced as to draw
aside and leave Gallatin and the Smiths to fight out their battles as
they liked. This withdrawal of active support chiefly weakened the
Administration. President Madison had no hold over his friends so long
as he refused to declare whom he regarded as friends. He lost not only
the Smiths, but also Gallatin, by standing aloof.
“Things as they are cannot go on much longer,” wrote Randolph,
February 17. “The Adminstration are now in fact aground at the
pitch of high tide, and a spring tide too. Nothing then remains
but to lighten the ship, which a dead calm has hitherto kept
from going to pieces. If the cabal succeed in their present
projects, and I see nothing but promptitude and decision that
can prevent it, the nation is undone.”
This judgment was so far true that none but persons hostile to all
central government could look toward the future without alarm; for
if the system continued in the future to lose energy as in the ten
years past, the time was not far distant when the country must revert
to the old Confederation, or to ties equally weak. Such a result was
the outcome of Randolph’s principles, and he should have welcomed
it; but Randolph was a creature of emotions; with feminine faults
he had feminine instincts and insight, which made him often shrink
from results of his own acts. At this crisis he showed more political
judgment than could be expected from wiser men. Though a Republican
of the narrowest Virginia creed, he would take part with none of the
factions that racked the government. He opposed vehemently not only the
legislative assertion that the French Decrees were withdrawn, but also
the legislative violence that overthrew the constitution of the House
by means of the previous question. If Randolph was wrong on either of
these points, he was at least wrong in company with history itself.
He favored his old policy of peace, economy, and a decentralized
government, and lost his temper with his colleague Eppes, to the verge
of a duel; but for this course he was little to be blamed, since the
policy was that of his party, and the contest was not of his making.
He gave to Gallatin all the support he had to give. Though more deeply
committed than any regular party man to the Constitutional doctrines of
narrow construction, he voted with the friends of the Bank. “Randolph’s
opinion on the bill to renew the charter of the United States Bank
is, I believe, unknown to every person except himself,” wrote Macon,
February 20,[281]--although Macon, himself opposed to the Bank,
was Randolph’s intimate friend. Disgusted with the factiousness of
others, Randolph became almost statesmanlike, and for a brief moment
showed how valuable he might have been had his balance equalled his
intelligence.
Randolph had long since ceased to hold direct relations with Gallatin,
but neither then nor ever afterward did he doubt that Gallatin was
the only capable character in the Government, and that he must be
supported. “The cabal,” whose influence excited disgust in his mind
as it did in that of Macon, ought to be put down, and Randolph said
plainly to Gallatin’s friends that the President must be compelled
to do it.[282] This dreaded cabal drew life only from the President
himself; in any other sense it was a creature of the imagination.
So little did Randolph and Macon know about it that they called its
members “the invisibles,” and puzzled themselves to account for the
influence it appeared to exert. In truth, the cabal had no strength
that warranted the alarm it roused. Samuel Smith’s abilities have shown
themselves in the story. Few men of the time stand more definitely
imaged than he in speeches, letters, intrigues, and ambitions, for
the exactest measurement; but measured in whatever way he pleased,
he was rather mischievous than alarming. His brother Robert, whom he
had made Secretary of State, was a mere instrument. Giles possessed
more ability, but could never become the leader of a party, or win the
confidence of the public. Vice-President Clinton and his friends were
an independent faction, ready to coalesce with the Smiths and Giles
for any personal objects; but they had little more capacity than the
Marylanders. Michael Leib and Duane of the “Aurora” were more useful
as intriguers, because they had less to lose; but they were also more
dangerous to their friends. Seven or eight Federalist senators also
could be depended upon as allies for all ordinary purposes of faction.
Yet in such a combination no solidarity existed; no common head, no
plan, no object held its members together. The persons engaged in this
petty and vexatious war on the Administration could not invent a scheme
of common action, or provide a capable leader, or act in unison on any
two measures. As Randolph justly said:[283]
“I am satisfied that Mr. Gallatin, by a timely resistance to
their schemes, might have defeated them and rendered the whole
cabal as impotent as Nature would seem to have intended them to
be; for in point of ability (capacity for intrigue excepted),
they are utterly contemptible and insignificant.”
Randolph had ruined himself by impetuosity; his only idea of resistance
implied violence. Gallatin never used the knife except when every other
means had been tried; but when he did so, his act was proof that no
other outlet could be opened by the clearest head and the most patient
temper of his time. For two years he had waited, while the problem he
placed before Madison and Jefferson in 1809 became more perplexed and
less soluble with every month; but when the Eleventh Congress expired,
he reached the same conclusion with Randolph, that promptitude and
decision could alone save Madison. Acting on this belief, he wrote a
letter of resignation.[284]
“It appears to me,” he told the President, “that not only
capacity and talents in the Administration, but also a perfect
heartfelt cordiality among its members, are essentially
necessary to command the public confidence, and to produce
the requisite union of views and action between the several
branches of government. In at least one of these points your
present Administration is defective; and the effects, already
sensibly felt, become every day more extensive and fatal. New
subdivisions and personal factions, equally hostile to yourself
and the general welfare, daily acquire additional strength.
Measures of vital importance have been and are defeated; every
operation, even of the most simple and ordinary nature, is
prevented or impeded; the embarrassments of government, great
as from foreign causes they already are, are unnecessarily
increased; public confidence in the public councils and in the
Executive is impaired,--and every day seems to increase every
one of these evils. Such a state of things cannot last; a
radical and speedy remedy has become absolutely necessary.”
Gallatin’s resignation obliged the President to act. How long he might
still have waited had Gallatin taken no step, only those can say who
best understand the peculiarities of his temper; but in any case he
could hardly have much longer postponed a crisis. Not only were his
ablest supporters, like Crawford, as impatient as Randolph of the
situation, but his own personal grievances were becoming intolerable.
He could acquiesce with patience while Gallatin and the Treasury were
sacrificed; but he could not bear to be crossed in his foreign policy,
or to be opposed on his sensitive point,--the system of commercial
restrictions. Gallatin probably liked the non-intercourse as little
as it was liked by the Smiths; but he did not, as a Cabinet minister,
intrigue against the President’s policy, while Robert and Samuel Smith
did little else.
When Gallatin, probably March 5, sent, or brought, his resignation to
the White House, Madison declined to accept it, and at once authorized
Gallatin to sound James Monroe on the offer of the State Department.
Gallatin sent for Richard Brent, Giles’s colleague in the Senate, who
wrote to Monroe March 7. Brent’s letter, followed by others, opened
another act in the political drama, for it made Monroe Secretary of
State and President of the United States, and prolonged the Virginia
dynasty for eight years; but in order to reach this result, Monroe
himself had to thread more than one dark and dangerous passage, which
would have wrecked the fortunes of any man not born to carry a charmed
political life.
Monroe’s return to the paths of promotion had been steady and even
rapid. In 1808 he was the rival candidate for the Presidency, on the
ground that he leaned toward reconciliation with England, while Madison
leaned toward France. Without wholly abandoning this attitude, Monroe
was invited to become the Republican governor of Virginia; and when
attacked for his want of sympathy with Madison, he made explanations,
both public and private, which so much irritated his old friend John
Randolph as to draw from him a letter, Jan. 14, 1811,[285] telling
Monroe of reports industriously circulated, “that in order to promote
your election to the chief magistracy of this Commonwealth, you
have descended to unbecoming compliances with the members of the
Assembly, not excepting your bitterest personal enemies; that you
have volunteered explanations to them of the differences heretofore
subsisting between yourself and the Administration which amount to
a dereliction of the ground which you took after your return from
England, and even of your warmest personal friends.” The charge was
never answered to Randolph’s satisfaction.[286] Monroe could not
publicly avow that he had made a succession of mistakes, partly under
Randolph’s influence, which he wished to correct and forget; but on
this tacit understanding he was elected governor of Virginia, and for
the rest of his life became to John Randolph an object of little esteem
considering the confidence and admiration he had so long inspired.
More than most men, Randolph could claim the merits of his own defects.
If he was morbidly proud and sensitive, he was at least quick to
understand when he had lost a friend. Of him Monroe rid himself
without trouble; but Monroe labored under the misfortune that his other
oldest and best friends were of the same political stamp. Chief among
these, the Mentor of Virginia politics, was John Taylor of Caroline,--a
man whose high character, consistent opinions, and considerable
abilities made him a valuable ally. Another was Littleton Walker
Tazewell. To them, after the rupture with Randolph, Monroe wrote,
excusing his course in becoming the Republican candidate for governor,
and reasserting in sufficiently strong terms his want of confidence in
President Madison:[287]--
“I fear, if the system of policy which has been so long
persevered in, after so many proofs of its dangerous tendency,
is still adhered to, that a crisis will arise the dangers of
which will require all the virtue, firmness, and talents of our
country to avert. And that it will be persevered in seems too
probable while the present men remain in power.... And if the
blame of improvident and injudicious measures is ever to attach
to them among the people, it must be by leaving to the authors
of those measures the entire responsibility belonging to them.”
Within six weeks after this letter had been written, Monroe was asked
to join the men in power, and to share the blame of those “improvident
and injudicious measures,” the responsibility for which ought, as he
conceived, to be left entirely to their authors. He wrote at once
to Colonel Taylor for advice; and the reply threw much light on
the personal and public motives supposed to guide the new Secretary
of State. Colonel Taylor advised Monroe to accept the President’s
invitation, for several reasons.[288] Assuming that Monroe was to
succeed Madison as the next Republican candidate for the Presidency,
he took for granted that Monroe was to follow the lines of his old
opinions, and to correct Madison’s leanings toward France.
“Our foreign relations,” continued Taylor, “seem to be drawing
to a crisis, and you ought to be in the public eye when it
happens, for your own sake, independently of the services you
can render your country. It is probable that this crisis will
occur on a full discovery that France will not do our commerce
any substantial good without an equivalent which would amount
to its destruction. So soon as this discovery is made, the
Government, in all its departments, will alter its policy, and
your occupancy of a conspicuous station will shed upon you the
glory of its having come round to your opinion.”
Colonel Taylor gave no thought to the opposite possibility that Monroe
might come round to the opinion of the Government; yet his argument
seemed to place Monroe in a position where, if he could not convert
Madison, he would have no choice but to let Madison convert him.
“This offer to you is an indication of a disposition in
Mr. Madison to relieve himself of the burden [of certain
persons and measures]; and if you suffer yourself to lose the
benefit of this disposition, another will gain it to your
inestimable injury. Suppose this other should be a competitor
for the Presidency, will it not be a decisive advantage over
you? General Armstrong is probably taking measures for this
object.... One consideration of great weight is that the public
think you an honest man. If this opinion is true, the acceptance
seems to be a duty toward relieving it from the suspicion
that there are too many avaricious or ambitious intriguers of
apparent influence in the government. I suppose the President
and Gallatin (whom I know) to be wholly guided by what they
think to be the public good; and should you happen to concur
with them, it will abate much of the jealousy (though I hope
it will never be smothered) with which Executive designs are
viewed; and to moderate it, under the perilous situation of the
country, is in my view desirable.”
The country reached a perilous pass when John Taylor of Caroline made
plans to strengthen the Executive; but he could not have calculated
on Monroe’s readiness to follow this course so far as it ended in
leading him. Taylor’s advice threw Monroe into the full current of
Executive influence. Alliance with Madison and Gallatin, rupture with
France, antagonism to the Smiths and Clintons, jealousy of Armstrong,
and defiance of Duane were sound policy, and united honesty with
self-interest; but their success depended on elements that Taylor could
not measure.
That Monroe shared these views, that they were in fact the common
stock of his personal party, might be seen not only in his previous
letters, but even more in his reply to Senator Brent,[289] written
March 18.
“You intimate,” said Monroe to Brent, “that the situation of
the country is such as to leave me no alternative. I am aware
that our public affairs are far from being in a tranquil and
secure state. I may add that there is much reason to fear that
a crisis is approaching of a very dangerous tendency,--one
which menaces the overthrow of the whole Republican party. Is
the Administration impressed with this sentiment, and prepared
to act on it? Are things in such a state as to allow the
Administration to take the whole subject into consideration,
and to provide for the safety of the country and of free
government by such measures as circumstances may require, and a
comprehensive view of them suggest? Or are we pledged by what is
already done to remain spectators of the interior movement, in
the expectation of some change abroad as the ground on which we
are to act? I have no doubt, from my knowledge of the President
and Mr. Gallatin,--with the former of whom I have been long
and intimately connected in friendship, and for both of whom,
in great and leading points of character, I have the highest
consideration and respect,--that if I came into the Government
the utmost cordiality would subsist between us, and that any
opinions which I might entertain and express respecting our
public affairs would receive, so far as circumstances would
permit, all the attention to which they might be entitled;
but if our course is fixed, and the destiny of our country
dependent on arrangements already made, I do not perceive how it
would be possible for me to render any service at this time in
the general government.”
If the President’s proclamation of Nov. 2, 1810, and the Act of
Congress passed March 2, 1811, three weeks before Monroe wrote
this letter, had not fixed the course and destiny of the country,
instructions to Pinkney and Jonathan Russell--on which those two
agents had already acted, and which would be the first papers to
be read by Monroe as Secretary of State--seemed certainly to fix
beyond recall the course about which Monroe inquired. Even a man more
liberal than Madison in professions might have hesitated to say that
the future secretary was free to break with France, or to enter on
other arrangements with England than those already imposed. Monroe’s
letter implied disapproval of the course hitherto taken, and a wish,
if possible, to change it. Madison was well acquainted not only with
Monroe’s opinions on foreign affairs, but also with those of Monroe’s
friends, who held that the course taken by the President ought to be
reversed; and with this knowledge of all the circumstances Madison
replied[290] to Monroe’s inquiry:--
“With the mutual knowledge of our respective views of the
foreign as well as domestic interests of our country, I see
no serious obstacle on either side to an association of our
labors in promoting them. In the general policy of avoiding war
by a strict and fair neutrality toward the belligerents, and of
settling amicably our differences with both,--or with either, as
leading to a settlement with the other,--or, that failing, as
putting us on better ground against him, there is and has been
an entire concurrence among the most enlightened who have shared
in the public councils since the year 1800.... In favor of a
cordial accommodation with Great Britain there has certainly
never ceased to be a prevailing disposition in the Executive
councils since I became connected with them. In the terms of
accommodation with that as with other Powers, differences of
opinion must be looked for, even among those most agreed on
the same general views. These differences, however, lie fairly
within the compass of free consultation and mutual concession
as subordinate to the unity belonging to the Executive
department. I will add that I perceive not any commitments,
even in the case of the abortive adjustment with that Power,
that could necessarily embarrass deliberations on a renewal of
negotiations.”
From these letters, the attitude of Monroe in entering Madison’s
Cabinet may be understood. Committed to the doctrine that Madison
had leaned toward France, and that this bias should be corrected,
Monroe and his personal party looked on Madison’s offer of the State
Department as the pledge of a change in policy which should have a
rupture with France for its immediate object, and the Presidency for
its ultimate reward. Madison, on his side, understanding this scheme
saw no objection to it, and was unconscious of having committed the
government to any position that could necessarily embarrass Monroe.
Monroe’s acceptance of this situation was as natural as his refusal
would have been surprising, for no man who wanted office, and who
saw the Presidency in his grasp, could be required to show rigorous
consistency. Madison’s attitude was somewhat different; and his
assurance, in March, 1811, that he saw no commitment which could
necessarily embarrass Monroe in renewing negotiations with England,
showed not only that Madison, notwithstanding Robert Smith’s assertions
to Turreau, still counted on no war with England, but felt no suspicion
that his measures within little more than a twelvemonth would lead him
to a recommendation of war. The policy of commercial restrictions still
satisfied his mind.
Madison was not alone in this ignorance. Monroe himself, still
less conscious than Madison of a war spirit, expected to reach the
Presidency by conciliating England. Even Robert Smith, to the surprise
of the world, posed as the victim of his hostility to France, and hoped
to become the centre of a combination of Smiths, Clintons, Federalists,
and Duane Pennsylvanians, who charged that Madison was less friendly to
England than he might have been. The President suffered much annoyance
from the Smiths because he could not disprove their assertions or
demonstrate his good-will for Great Britain.
As soon as Madison learned through Senator Brent that Monroe made
no serious difficulty in accepting the State Department, he sent for
Robert Smith. A faithful account of the conversations that followed
would add vivacity to the story, for Madison seemed at times to enjoy
commenting not only on the acts of his opponents, but also on their
motives; while Robert Smith, being easily disconcerted and slow in
defence or attack, offered a tempting mark for arrows of temper. The
first interview took place March 23,[291] and Madison made a long
memorandum of what passed.
“I proceeded to state to him,” recorded Madison,[292] “that
it had long been felt and had at length become notorious that
the administration of the Executive department labored under a
want of the harmony and unity which were equally necessary to
its energy and its success; that I did not refer to the evil
as infecting our Cabinet consultations, where there had always
been an apparent cordiality and even a sufficient concurrence
of opinion, but as showing itself in language and conduct out
of doors, counteracting what had been understood within to
be the course of the Administration and the interest of the
public; that truth obliged me to add that this practice, as
brought to my view, was exclusively chargeable on him; and
that he had not only counteracted what had been the result of
consultations apparently approved by himself, but had included
myself in representations calculated to diminish confidence in
the administration committed to me.”
Robert Smith protested, in his somewhat incoherent way, against the
truth of this charge; and the President, roused by resistance, spoke
with more preciseness, instancing Smith’s conduct in regard to Macon’s
bills in 1810, as evidence of the secretary’s bad faith.
“With respect to his motives for dissatisfaction, I acknowledged
that I had been, for the reasons given by him, much puzzled
to divine any natural ones, without looking deeper into human
nature than I was willing to do; ... that whatever talents he
might possess, he did not, as he must have found by experience,
possess those adapted to his station; ... that the business of
the Department had not been conducted in the systematic and
punctual manner that was necessary, particularly in the foreign
correspondence, and that I had become daily more dissatisfied
with it.”
The man must have been easy-tempered who could listen to these comments
on conduct, motives, and abilities without sign of offence; but Robert
Smith showed no immediate resentment, for when the President closed
by offering to send him to St. Petersburg to succeed J. Q. Adams,
who was to take Justice Cushing’s place on the Supreme Bench, Smith
showed no unwillingness, although he avowed his preference for the
other vacancy on the bench soon to be caused by Justice Chase’s death,
or for the English mission left vacant by Pinkney’s return. Madison
declined to encourage these ambitions, and Smith retired to consider
the offer of St. Petersburg. For several days the President supposed
the arrangement to be accepted; but meanwhile Robert Smith consulted
his friends, who held other views on the subject of his dignity and
deserts. When he next saw the President he declined the mission,
declaring that acceptance would be only indirect removal from office,
the result of “a most shameful intrigue.” After trying in vain the
characteristic task of convincing him that he altogether exaggerated
his own consequence, Madison accepted his resignation and left him to
carry out his threat of appealing to the country. “He took his leave
with a cold formality,” concluded Madison, “and I did not see him
afterward.”
For ten years Robert Smith had been one of the most powerful influences
in politics, trusted with the highest responsibilities and duties,
seeming more than any other single Cabinet officer to affect the course
of public affairs; when at a breath from the President his official
life was snuffed out, his reputation for ability vanished, and the
Republican party, which had so long flattered him, suddenly learned
to belittle his name. Under the shadow of monarchical or absolute
governments such tales of artificial greatness were common, and their
moral was worn thin by ages of repetition; but in the democratic United
States, and from the bosom of Jefferson’s political family, this
experience of Robert Smith was a singular symptom.
Never again did this genial gentleman sun himself in the rays of
Executive power, or recover the smallest share of influence. He
returned to Baltimore, where he lived thirty years longer without
distinguishing himself; but about three months after his retirement
from office, in the month of June, 1811, he published an Address to the
People, charging President Madison with offences more or less grave,
and surprising every one by representing himself as having persistently
but vainly opposed Madison’s fixed purpose of making a virtual alliance
with France. The evidence of the late Secretary of State, who might
reasonably be thought the best informed and most competent judge,
confirmed the Federalist and British theory that Madison was under
secret pledges to Napoleon. So gravely did it compromise Madison that
he caused Joel Barlow to write a semi-official reply in the “National
Intelligencer;” and although Barlow wrote in a bad temper, Madison
himself wrote privately in a worse.
“You will have noticed in the ‘National Intelligencer,’” he
told Jefferson July 8,[293] “that the wicked publication of Mr.
Smith is not to escape with impunity. It is impossible, however,
that the whole turpitude of his conduct can be understood
without disclosures to be made by myself alone, and of course,
as he knows, not to be made at all. Without these his infamy is
daily fastening upon him, leaving no other consolation than the
malignant hope of revenging his own ingratitude and guilt on
others.”
Robert Smith hardly deserved such invective. If the taunts of Madison,
Barlow, and the Republican press and party at his incompetence were
well-founded, the party had only itself to blame for putting such a man
in so high a position. If triumphant in nothing else, Smith overthrew
both Madison and Barlow by the retort with which he met their sneers,
and retaliated the charge of incompetence.
“This advocate,” replied Smith (in the “Baltimore American”)
to Barlow (in the Washington “Intelligencer”), “would have us
believe that many persons both in and out of Congress thought
that Mr. Smith from want of talents and integrity was quite
unfit for the Department of State, and that his appointment
was the effect of an intrigue. Were there any truth in this
remark, it could not fail to convince every person of the utter
unfitness of Mr. Madison himself for _his_ office. It in
plain English says that from the officious persuasion of a
few intriguers he had appointed to the most important and the
highest station in the government a person without talents and
without integrity; and this person not a stranger, respecting
whom he might have been misled, but one who had been his
colleague in office during the long term of eight years, and
of whose fitness he of course had better means of judging than
any other person or persons whatever; nay, more,--to this same
person, without talents or integrity, was offered by Mr. Madison
not only the mission to Russia, but the important office of the
Treasury Department.”