“Mr. Motley says it has been rumored that he was ‘removed from the post of Minister to England’ on account of the opposition made by an ‘eminent Senator, who honors me [him] with his friendship,’ to the San Domingo treaty.
“Men are apt to attribute the causes of their own failures or their own misfortunes to others than themselves, and to claim association or seek a partnership with real or imaginary greatness with which to divide their sorrows or their mistakes. There can be no question as to the identity of the eminent Senator at whose door Mr. Motley is willing to deposit the cause of his removal. But he is entirely mistaken in seeking a vicarious cause of his loss in confidence and favor; and it is unworthy of Mr. Motley’s real merit and ability, and an injustice to the venerable Senator alluded to, (to whose influence and urgency he was originally indebted for his nomination,) to attribute to him any share in the cause of his removal.
“Mr. Motley must know, or, if he does not know it, he stands alone in his ignorance of the fact, that many Senators opposed the San Domingo treaty openly, generously, and with as much efficiency as did the distinguished Senator to whom he refers, and have nevertheless continued to enjoy the undiminished confidence and the friendship of the President,—than whom no man living is more tolerant of honest and manly differences of opinion, is more single or sincere in his desire for the public welfare, is more disinterested or regardless of what concerns himself, is more frank and confiding in his own dealings, is more sensitive to a betrayal of confidence, or would look with more scorn and contempt upon one who uses the words and the assurances of friendship to cover a secret and determined purpose of hostility.”[98]
The eulogy of the President here is at least singular, when it is considered that every dispatch of the Secretary of State is by order of the President; but it is evident that the writer of this dispatch had made up his mind to set all rule at defiance. If, beyond paying court to the President, even at the expense of making him praise himself, the concluding sentence of this elaborate passage, so full of gall from beginning to end, had any object, if it were anything but a mountain of words, it was an open attempt to make an official document the vehicle of personal insult to me; and this personal insult was signed “Hamilton Fish.” As I became aware of it, and found also that it was regarded by others in the same light, I was distressed and perplexed. I could not comprehend it. I knew not why the Secretary should step so far out of his way, in a manner absolutely without precedent, to treat me with ostentatious indignity,—especially when I thought that for years I had been his friend, that I had never spoken of him except with kindness, and that constantly since assuming his present duties he had turned to me for help. This was more incomprehensible when I considered how utterly groundless were all his imputations. I have lived in vain, if such an attempt on me can fail to rebound on its author.
Not lightly would I judge an ancient friend. For a time I said nothing to anybody of the outrage, hoping that perhaps the Secretary would open his eyes to the true character of the document he had signed and volunteer some friendly explanation. Meanwhile a proposition to resume negotiations was received from England, and the Secretary, it seems, desired to confer with me on the subject; but there was evident consciousness on his part that he had done wrong,—for, instead of coming to me at once, he sent for Mr. Patterson, of the Senate, and, telling him that he wished to confer with me, added, that he did not know precisely what were his relations with me and how I should receive him. Within a brief fortnight I had been in conference with him at the State Department and had dined at his house, besides about the same time making a call there. Yet he was in doubt about his relations with me. Plainly because, since the conference, the dinner, and the call, the document signed by him had been communicated to the Senate, and the conscience-struck Secretary did not know how I should take it. Mr. Patterson asked me what he should report. I replied, that, should the Secretary come to my house, he would be received as an old friend, and that at any time I should be at his service for consultation on public business, but that I could not conceal my deep sense of personal wrong received from him absolutely without reason or excuse. That this message was communicated by Mr. Patterson I cannot doubt,—for the Secretary came to my house, and there was a free conference. How frankly I spoke on public questions, without one word on other things, the Secretary knows. He will remember if any inquiry, remark, or allusion escaped from me, except in reference to public business. The interview was of business and nothing else.
On careful reflection, it seemed to me plain, that, while meeting the Secretary officially, it would not be consistent with self-respect for me to continue personal relations with one who had put his name to a document, which, after protracted fury toward another, contained a studied insult to me, where the fury was intensified rather than tempered by too obvious premeditation. Public business must not suffer, but in such a case personal relations naturally cease; and this rule I have followed since. Is there any Senator who would have done less? Are there not many who would have done more? I am at a loss to understand how the Secretary could expect anything beyond those official relations which I declared my readiness at all times to maintain, and which, even after his assault on me, he was willing to seek at my own house. To expect more shows on his part grievous insensibility to the thing he had done. Whatever one signs he makes his own; and the Secretary, when he signed this document, adopted a libel upon his friend, and when he communicated it to the Senate he published the libel. Nothing like it can be shown in the history of our Government. It stands alone. The Secretary is alone. Like Jean Paul in German literature, his just title will be “The Only One.” For years I have known Secretaries of State and often differed from them, but never before did I receive from one anything but kindness. Never before did a Secretary of State sign a document libelling an associate in the public service, and publish it to the world. Never before did a Secretary of State so entirely set at defiance every sentiment of friendship. It is impossible to explain this strange aberration, except from the disturbing influence of San Domingo. But whatever its origin, its true character is beyond question.
As nothing like this state-paper can be shown in the history of our Government, so also nothing like it can be shown in the history of other Governments. Not an instance can be named in any country, where a personage in corresponding official position has done such a thing. The American Secretary is alone, not only in his own country, but in all countries; “none but himself can be his parallel.” Seneca, in the “Hercules Furens,” has pictured him:—
“Quæris Alcidæ parem?
Nemo est, nisi ipse.”
He is originator and first inventor, with all prerogatives and responsibilities thereto belonging.