Washington and the American Republic, Vol. 3.

by Benson John Lossing

“As no other suitable occasion may occur, we can not suffer the present to pass without attempting to disclose some of the emotions which it can not fail to awaken. The gratitude and admiration of your countrymen are still drawn to the recollection of those resplendent virtues and talents which were so eminently instrumental to the achievements of the Revolution, and of which that glorious event will ever be the memorial. Your obedience to the voice of duty and your country, when you quitted, reluctantly, a second time, the retreat you had chosen, and accepted the presidency, afforded a new proof of the devotedness of your zeal in its service, and an earnest of the patriotism and success which have characterized your administration. As the grateful confidence of the citizens in the virtues of their chief-magistrate has essentially contributed to that success, we persuade ourselves that the millions whom we represent participate with us in the anxious solicitude of the present occasion.

“Yet we can not be unmindful that your moderation and magnanimity, twice displayed, by retiring from your exalted stations, afford examples no less rare and instructive to mankind, than valuable to a republic. Although we are sensible that this event, of itself, completes the lustre of a character already conspicuously unrivalled by the coincidence of virtue, talents, success, and public estimation; yet we conceive we owe it to you, sir, and still more emphatically to ourselves, and to our nation (of the language of whose hearts we presume to think ourselves, at this moment, the faithful interpreters), to express the sentiments with which it is contemplated.

“The spectacle of a free and enlightened nation offering, by its representatives, the tribute of unfeigned approbation to its First Citizen, however novel and interesting it may be, derives all its lustre (a lustre which accident or enthusiasm could not bestow, and which adulation would tarnish) from the transcendent merit of which it is the voluntary testimony.

“May you long enjoy that liberty which is so dear to you, and to which your name will ever be so dear; may your own virtues and a nation's prayers obtain the happiest sunshine for the decline of your days, and the choicest of future blessings. For our country's sake, for the sake of republican liberty, it is our earnest wish that your example may be the guide of your successors; and thus, after being the ornament and safeguard of the present age, become the patrimony of our descendants.”

When the committee presented this address to the house, some of the more zealous of the opposition, among whom was Mr. Giles, of Virginia, warmly opposed it. He moved that the whole of it in which the character and influence of the president were eulogized should be expunged. He expressed his belief that the want of “wisdom and firmness” in the administration had conducted the affairs of the nation to a crisis which threatened greater calamities than any that had before occurred. He did not regret the president's retiring from office. He hoped he would do so, and enjoy the happiness that awaited him in retirement. He believed that it would more conduce to that happiness that he should retire, than if he should remain in office. He believed that the government of the United States, founded on the broad basis of the people, required no single man to administer it. The people were competent to manage governmental affairs; and they would be in a calamitous situation indeed, if one man were essential to the existence of the government. He believed that there were a thousand men in the United States capable of filling the presidential chair, and he was willing to trust to the discernment of the people in making a proper choice. Though the voice of all America should declare the president's retiring a calamity, he could not join in the declaration, because he did not conceive it to be a misfortune. He had always, he said, disapproved of the measures of the administration in regard to foreign relations, and so had many members of the house, and he should not now disavow former opinions, without being first convinced of having been in error. He perceived more cause than ever for adhering to his old opinions. The course of events had pointed out their propriety; and, if he was not much mistaken, a crisis was at hand which would confirm them. He desired gentlemen who were willing to compliment the president to have some respect for the feelings of others.

The administration party in the house strenuously opposed the motion to expunge. They admitted that there might be many who were able to fill the presidential chair with equal ability with Washington, but there was not one who possessed, in a similar degree, the confidence of the people. The regrets of his constituents, because of his proposed retirement, had been expressed in every part of the Union, and the voice of the people coincided with the sentiments of the address. The motion to expunge was lost by a large majority. Only twelve members recorded themselves in the affirmative, among whom was Andrew Jackson, who had just taken his seat in the house, as a representative of Tennessee.

While Adet was fulminating his thunders against the administration, and the opposition in the house were doing all in their power to injure the president, the Aurora newspaper was pouring out its venom with increased malignity. “If ever a nation was debauched by a man,” said a correspondent of that paper, on the twenty-third of December, “the American nation has been debauched by Washington. If ever a nation was deceived by a man, the American nation has been deceived by Washington. Let his conduct, then, be an example to future ages. Let it serve to be a warning that no man may be an idol. Let the history of the federal government instruct mankind, that the mask of patriotism may be worn to conceal the foulest designs against the liberties of the people.”

At about the same time, a malignant pamphlet, in the form of a letter from Thomas Paine to Washington, was issued from the office of the Aurora. Paine had been a member of the National Assembly of France, and thrown into prison. Application had been made to the United States government for his release, but, as in the case of Lafayette, it could do nothing. This seeming neglect kindled the ire of Paine, who had, at this time, become an habitual drunkard. He had, in consequence, also become morose in disposition, and dogmatical in his opinions to an insufferable degree. Monroe sympathized with him; and under his roof, in Paris, Paine wrote the virulent letter alluded to, and sent it to Bache, of the Aurora, to print and disseminate. The following extract will be sufficient to exhibit its tone and temper:—

“The part I acted in the American Revolution is well known; I shall not here repeat it. I know, also, that had it not been for the aid received from France in men, money, and ships, that your cold and unmilitary conduct (as I shall show in the course of this letter) would, in all probability, have lost America; at least she would not have been the independent nation she now is. You slept away your time in the field till the finances of the country were completely exhausted, and you have but little share in the glory of the final event. It is time, sir, to speak the undisguised language of historical truth.

“Elevated to the chair of the presidency, you assumed the merit of everything to yourself, and the natural ingratitude of your constitution began to appear. You commenced your presidential career by encouraging and swallowing the grossest adulation; and you travelled America, from one end to the other, to put yourself in the way of receiving it. You have as many addresses in your chest as James the Second. As to what were your views (for if you are not great enough to have ambition, you are little enough to have vanity) they can not be directly inferred from expressions of your own; but the partisans of your politics have divulged the secret.”