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.