“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.