I see with infinite grief a contest arising between yourself and another, who have been very dear to each other, and equally so to me. I sincerely pray that these dispositions may not be affected between you; with me I confidently trust they will not. For independently of the dictates of public duty, which prescribes neutrality to me, my sincere friendship for you both will ensure its sacred observance. I suffer no one to converse with me on the subject. I already perceive my old friend Clinton, estranging himself from me. No doubt lies are carried to him, as they will be to the other two candidates, under forms which, however false, he can scarcely question. Yet I have been equally careful as to him also, never to say a word on his subject. The object of the contest is a fair and honorable one, equally open to you all; and I have no doubt the personal conduct of all will be so chaste, as to offer no ground of dissatisfaction with each other. But your friends will not be as delicate. I know too well from experience the progress of political controversy, and the exacerbation of spirit into which it degenerates, not to fear for the continuance of your mutual esteem. One piquing thing said draws on another, that a third, and always with increasing acrimony, until all restraint is thrown off, and it becomes difficult for yourselves to keep clear of the toils in which your friends will endeavor to interlace you, and to avoid the participation in their passions which they will endeavor to produce. A candid recollection of what you know of each other will be the true corrective. With respect to myself, I hope they will spare me. My longings for retirement are so strong, that I with difficulty encounter the daily drudgeries of my duty. But my wish for retirement itself is not stronger than that of carrying into it the affections of all my friends. I have ever viewed Mr. Madison and yourself as two principal pillars of my happiness. Were either to be withdrawn, I should consider it as among the greatest calamities which could assail my future peace of mind. I have great confidence that the candor and high understanding of both will guard me against this misfortune, the bare possibility of which has so far weighed on my mind, that I could not be easy without unburthening it.
Accept my respectful salutations for yourself and Mrs. Monroe, and be assured of my constant and sincere friendship.
TO JOSEPH BRINGHURST.
Washington, February 24, 1808.
Sir,—I have to acknowledge the receipt of your letter of the 16th. It gave me the first information of the death of our distinguished fellow citizen, John Dickinson. A more estimable man, or truer patriot, could not have left us. Among the first of the advocates for the rights of his country when assailed by Great Britain, he continued to the last the orthodox advocate of the true principles of our new government, and his name will be consecrated in history as one of the great worthies of the revolution. We ought to be grateful for having been permitted to retain the benefit of his counsel to so good an old age; still, the moment of losing it, whenever it arrives, must be a moment of deep-felt regret. For himself, perhaps, a longer period of life was less important, alloyed as the feeble enjoyments of that age are with so much pain. But to his country every addition to his moments was interesting. A junior companion of his labors in the early part of our revolution, it has been a great comfort to me to have retained his friendship to the last moment of his life.
Sincerely condoling with his friends on this affecting loss, I beg leave to tender my salutations to yourself, and assurances of my friendly respects.
TO THE SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES.
Washington, February 27, 1808.
Dear Sir,—I enclose you a copy of Armstrong's letter, covering the papers sent to Congress. The date was blank, as in the copy; the letter was so immaterial that I had really forgotten it altogether when I spoke with you last night. I feel myself much indebted to you for having given me this private opportunity of showing that I have kept back nothing material. That the federalists and a few others should by their vote make such a charge on me, is never unexpected. But how can any join in it who call themselves friends? The President sends papers to the House, which he thinks the public interest requires they should see. They immediately pass a vote, implying irresistibly their belief that he is capable of having kept back other papers which the same interest requires they should see. They pretend to no direct proof of this. It must, then, be founded in presumption; and on what act of my life or of my administration is such a presumption founded? What interest can I have in leading the Legislature to act on false grounds? My wish is certainly to take that course with the public affairs which the body of the Legislature would prefer. It is said, indeed, that such a vote is to satisfy the federalists and their partisans. But were I to send twenty letters, they would say, "You have kept back the twenty-first; send us that." If I sent one hundred, they would say, "There were one hundred and one;" and how could I prove the negative? Their malice can be cured by no conduct; it ought, therefore, to be disregarded, instead of countenancing their imputations by the sanction of a vote. Indeed I should consider such a vote as a charge, in the face of the nation, calling for a serious and public defence of myself. I send you a copy, that you may retain it, and make such use of it among our friends as your prudence and friendship will deem best.
I salute you with great affection and respect.