George Washington, Volume II

by Henry Cabot Lodge

The Fauchet letter, therefore, although its revelations astounded and grieved him, had no effect upon his action, which would have been the same in any event; for he had said over and over again that he had not changed his first opinion. In the letter to Randolph, just quoted, he also said: "And finally you know the grounds on which my ultimate decision was taken, as the same were expressed to you, the other secretaries of departments, and the late attorney-general, after a thorough investigation of the subject in all the aspects in which it could be placed." As the Fauchet letter was not disclosed to Randolph until after the treaty had been signed, it was impossible that it should have been one of the grounds of the President's decision, for Washington said to him, "You knew the grounds." If we are to suppose that the Fauchet letter had anything to do with the ratification so far as the President himself was concerned, we must, in the face of this letter, set Washington down as a deliberate liar, which is so wholly impossible that it disposes at once of the theory that he was driven into signing by a clever British intrigue.

Here as elsewhere the simple and obvious explanation is the true one, although the whole matter is sufficiently plain on the mere narration of facts. The treaty was a great public question, to be decided on its merits, and the only new point raised by the Fauchet dispatch was how to deal with Randolph himself at this particular juncture. To have shown the letter to him at once would have been to break the cabinet, with the treaty unsigned. It would have resulted in much delay, extending to weeks, unless the President was ready to have an acting secretary sign both treaty and memorial; and it would have added during the continued suspense a fresh subject of excitement to the popular mind. Washington's duty plainly was to carry out his policy and bring the matter to an immediate conclusion, and, as was his custom, he did his duty. If, as Mr. Conway thinks, the Fauchet letter was what compelled the ratification, Washington would have given it to the world at once, and then, having by this means discredited the opposition and roused a feeling against the French, would have signed the treaty. England, of course, had taken advantage of this letter, and equally of course her minister and his influence were against Randolph, who was thought to be unfriendly. Hammond intrigued with our public men just as all the French ministers did. It is humiliating that such should have been the case, but it was due to our recent escape from a colonial condition, and to the way in which we allowed our politics to turn on foreign affairs. Having made up his mind to ratify and end the question, Washington very properly kept silence as to the Fauchet letter until the work was done. To do this, it was necessary of course that he should make no change in his personal attitude toward Randolph, nor was he obliged to do so, for he was too just a man to assume Randolph's guilt until his defense had been made. The ratification was brought before the cabinet at once. There was a sharp discussion, in which it appeared that Randolph had advanced a good deal in his hostility to the treaty, a fact not tending to make the Fauchet business look better; and then ratification was voted, and a memorial against the provision order was adopted. On August 18 the treaty was signed, and on the 19th, Washington, in the presence of his cabinet, placed the Fauchet letter in Randolph's hands. Randolph read it, made some comments, and asked time to offer suitable explanations. He then withdrew, and in a few hours sent in his resignation.

There would be no need, so far as Washington is concerned, to say more on this unfortunate affair of the Secretary of State, were it not for the recent statements made by Randolph's biographer. In order to clear his hero, Mr. Conway represents that Washington, knowing Randolph to be innocent, sacrificed him in great anguish of heart to an imperious political necessity, while the fact was, that nobody sacrificed Randolph except himself. He was represented in a dispatch written by the French minister in a light which, as Washington said, gave rise to strong suspicions; a moderate statement in which every candid man who knew anything about the matter has agreed from that day to this. According to Fauchet, Randolph not only had held conversations wholly unbecoming his position, but on the same authority he was represented to have asked for money. That the Secretary of State was corrupt, no one who knew him, as Jefferson said, for one moment believed. Whether he disposed of this charge or not, it was plain to his friends, as it is to posterity, that Randolph was a perfectly honorable man. But neither his own vindication nor that of his biographer have in the least palliated or even touched the real error which he committed.

As Secretary of State, the head of the cabinet, and in charge of our foreign relations, he had, according to Fauchet's dispatch and to his own admissions, entered into relations with a foreign minister which ought to have been as impossible as they were discreditable to an American statesman. That Fauchet believed that Randolph deceived him did not affect the merits of the case, nor, if true, did it excuse Randolph, especially as everybody with whom he was brought into close contact seems at some time or other to have had doubts of his sincerity. As a matter of fact, Randolph could find no defense except to attack Washington and discuss our foreign relations, and his biographer has followed the same line. What was it then that Washington had actually done which called for assault? He had been put in possession of an official document which on its face implicated his Secretary of State in the intrigues of a foreign minister, and suggested that he was open to corruption. These were the views which the public, having no personal knowledge of Randolph, would be sure to take, and as a matter of fact actually took, when the affair became known. There was a great international question to be settled, and settled without delay. This was done in a week, during which time Washington kept silent, as his public duty required. The moment the treaty was signed he handed Fauchet's dispatch to Randolph and asked for an explanation. None knew of the dispatch except the cabinet officers, through whom it had necessarily come. Washington did not prejudge the case; he did not dismiss Randolph with any mark of his pleasure, as he would have been quite justified in doing. He simply asked for explanation, and threw open his own correspondence and the archives of the department, so that Randolph might have every opportunity for defense. It is difficult to see how Washington could have done less in dealing with Randolph, or in what way he could have shown greater consideration.

Randolph resigned of his own motion, and then cried out against Washington because he had been obliged to pay the penalty of his own errors. When it is considered that Washington did absolutely nothing to Randolph except to hand him Fauchet's dispatch and accept his consequent resignation, the talk about Randolph's forgiving him becomes simply ludicrous. Randolph saw his own error, was angry with himself, and, like the rest of humanity, proceeded to vent his anger on somebody else, but unfortunately he had the bad taste to turn at the outset to the newspapers. Like Mr. Snodgrass, he took off his coat in public and announced in a loud voice that he was going to begin. The President's only response was to open the archives and bid him publish everything he desired. Randolph then wrote the President a private letter, which was angry and impertinent; "full of innuendoes," said the recipient. Washington drafted a sharp reply, and then out of pure kindness withheld it, and let the private letter drop into silence, whither the bulky "Vindication," which vindicated nobody, soon followed it. The fact was, that Washington treated Randolph with great kindness and forbearance. He had known him long; he was fond of him on his own account as well as his father's; he appreciated Randolph's talents; but he knew on reading that dispatch, if he had never guessed it before, that Randolph, although honest and clever, and certainly not bad, was a dangerously weak man. Others among our public men had put themselves into relations with foreign representatives which it is now intolerable to contemplate, but Randolph, besides being found out at the moment, had, after the fashion of weak natures, gone further and shown more feebleness than any one else had. Washington's conduct was so perfectly simple, and the facts of the case were so plain, that it would seem impossible to complicate them. The contemporary verdict was harsh, crushing, and unjust in many respects to Randolph. The verdict of posterity, which is both gentler and fairer to the secretary, will certainly at the same time sustain Washington's course at every point as sensible, direct, and proper.

Only one question remains which demands a word before tracing briefly the subsequent fate of the Jay treaty, and that is, to know exactly why the President signed it. The answer is fortunately not difficult. There was a choice of evils. When Washington determined to send a special envoy, he said: "My objects are, to prevent a war, if justice can be obtained by fair and strong representations (to be made by a special envoy) of the injuries which this country has sustained from Great Britain in various ways; to put it into a complete state of military defense; and to provide eventually such measures for execution as seem to be now pending in Congress, if negotiation in a reasonable time proves unsuccessful." From these views he never varied. The treaty was not a perfect one, but it had good features and was probably, as has been said, the best that could then be obtained. It settled some vexed questions, and it gave us time. If the United States could only have time without making undue sacrifice, they could pass beyond the stage when a foreign war with its consequent suffering and debt would endanger our national existence. If they could only have time to grow into a nation, there would be no difficulty in settling all their disputes with other people satisfactorily, either by war or negotiation. But if the national bonds were loosened, then all was lost. It was in this spirit that Washington signed the Jay treaty; and although there was much in it that he did not like, and although men were bitterly divided about the ratification, a dispassionate posterity has come to believe that he was right at the most difficult if not the most perilous crisis in his career.

The signature of the treaty, however, did not put an end to the attacks upon it, or upon the action of the Senate and the Executive. Nevertheless, it turned the tide, and, as Washington foresaw, brought out a strong movement in its favor. Hamilton began the work by the publication of the letters of "Camillus." The opposition newspapers sneered, but after Jefferson had read a few numbers he begged Madison in alarm to answer them. His fears were well grounded, for the letters were reprinted in newspapers throughout the country, and their powerful and temperate arguments made converts and strengthened the friends of the administration everywhere. The approaching surrender of the posts gratified the western people when they at last stopped to think about it. The obnoxious provision order was revoked, and the traders and merchants found that security and commerce even under unpleasant restrictions were a great deal better than the uncertainty and the vexatious hostilities to which they had before been exposed. Those who had been silent, although friendly to the policy of the government, now began to meet in their turn and send addresses to Congress; for in the House of Representatives the last battle was to be fought.

That body came together under the impression of the agitation and excitement which had been going on all through the summer. There was a little wrangling at the opening over the terms to be employed in the answer to the President's message, and then the House relapsed into quiet, awaiting the formal announcement of the treaty. At last the treaty arrived with the addition of the suspending article, and the President proclaimed it to be the law of the land, and sent a copy to the House. Livingston, of New York, at once moved a resolution, asking the President to send in all the papers relating to the negotiation, and boldly placed the motion on the ground that the House was vested with a discretionary power as to carrying the treaty into execution. On this principle the debate went on for three weeks, and then the resolution passed by 62 to 37. A great constitutional question was thus raised, for there was no pretense that the papers were really needed, inasmuch as committees had seen them all, and they contained practically nothing which was not already known.

Washington took the request into consideration, and asked his cabinet whether the House had the right, as set forth in the resolutions, to call for the papers, and if not, whether it was expedient to furnish them. Both questions were unanimously answered in the negative. The inquiry was largely formal, and Washington had no real doubts on the point involved. He wrote to Hamilton: "I had from the first moment, and from the fullest conviction in my own mind, resolved to resist the principle, which was evidently intended to be established by the call of the House of Representatives; and only deliberated on the manner in which this could be done with the least bad consequences." His only question was as to the method of resistance, and he finally decided to refuse absolutely, and did so in a message setting forth his reasons. He said that the intention of the constitutional convention was known to him, and that they had intended to vest the treaty-making power exclusively in the Executive and Senate. On that principle he had acted, and in that belief foreign nations had negotiated, and the House had hitherto acquiesced. He declared further that the assent of the House was not necessary to the validity of treaties; that they had all necessary information; and "as it is essential to the due administration of the government that the boundaries fixed by the Constitution should be preserved, a just regard to the Constitution and to the duty of my office, under all the circumstances of this case, forbid a compliance with your request." The question was a difficult one, but there could be no doubt as to Washington's opinion, and the weight of authority has sustained his view. From the practical and political side there can be little question that his position was extremely sound. In a letter to Carrington he gave the reasons for his action, and no better statement of the argument in a general way has ever been made. He wrote:—

"No candid man in the least degree acquainted with the progress of this business will believe for a moment that the ostensible dispute was about papers, or whether the British treaty was a good one or a bad one, but whether there should be a treaty at all without the concurrence of the House of Representatives. This was striking at once, and that boldly, too, at the fundamental principles of the Constitution; and, if it were established, would render the treaty-making power not only a nullity, but such an absolute absurdity as to reflect disgrace on the framers of it. For will any one suppose that they who framed, or those who adopted, that instrument ever intended to give the power to the President and Senate to make treaties, and, declaring that when made and ratified they should be the supreme law of the land, would in the same breath place it in the power of the House of Representatives to fix their vote on them, unless apparent marks of fraud or corruption (which in equity would set aside any contract) accompanied the measure, or such striking evidence of national injury attended their adoption as to make a war or any other evil preferable? Every unbiased mind will answer in the negative.

"What the source and what the object of all this struggle is, I submit to my fellow-citizens. Charity would lead me to hope that the motives to it would be pure. Suspicions, however, speak a different language, and my tongue for the present shall be silent."