[Footnote 50: Hamilton's Works (Lodge), Vol. 1, p. 509.]

To many the selection of Robert Yates seemed almost ungracious. The Federalists wanted Richard Morris, chief justice of the Supreme Court, who had encouraged the establishment of a strong government, and, as a member of the Poughkeepsie convention, had voted to ratify the Federal Constitution. Besides, he was a gentleman of the old school, of inflexible integrity, firm and decided in character, whose full, rounded face and commanding presence appeared to advantage among the stately and dignified personages who supported knee breeches and silk stockings, and displayed the delicate ruffles of a shirt under the folds of a rich velvet coat. Hamilton was fond of Morris, and recognised the justice of his claims. Their views in no wise differed, their families were intimate, and at the Poughkeepsie convention, after listening for three hours to Hamilton's speech, Morris had pronounced it the ablest argument and most patriotic address ever heard in the State of New York. But the great Federalist, determined to destroy Clinton, wanted availability, not fidelity, and so Morris declined in favour of Yates.

In everything Robert Yates was an anti-Federalist. He dressed like one and he talked like one. He had been an opponent of the Federal Constitution, an advocate of the doctrine of state supremacy, and an ardent supporter of the Governor. With Clinton's approval he had withdrawn from the Philadelphia convention when the majority favoured a strong government wielding supreme authority; with Clinton's approval, he had opposed the ratification of the Federal Constitution in the state convention at Poughkeepsie, and with Clinton's approval he declined to change his vote, although New Hampshire's action and Hamilton's speech had already settled the question of ratification. What Hamilton proposed, Yates opposed; what Clinton advocated, Yates approved. After the ratification of the Constitution, however, Robert Yates charged the grand jury that it would be little short of treason against the Republic to disobey it. "Let me exhort you, gentlemen," he said, "not only in your capacity as grand jurors, but in your more durable and equally respectable character as citizens, to preserve inviolate this charter of our national rights and safety, a charter second only in dignity and importance to the Declaration of our Independence."

Upon the bench Yates distinguished himself for impartiality and independence, if not for learning. He abated the intemperate zeal of patriotic juries, and he refused to convict men suspected of disloyalty, without proof. On one occasion he sent a jury back four times to reconsider a verdict of guilty unauthorised by the evidence, and subsequently treated with indifference a legislative threat of impeachment, based upon a fearless discharge of duty. He could afford to be just, for, like George Clinton, he had early embraced the cause of the Colony against the Crown. From an Albany alderman he became a maker of the State Constitution, and from a writer of patriotic essays, he shone as an active member of the Committee of Safety. Together with John Jay and Robert R. Livingston, he had obstructed the passage of Lord Howe's ships up the Hudson, and with General Schuyler he devised measures to repel the British from the northern and western frontier. He had helped to fix the dividing line between Massachusetts and New York, and, as one of the Council of Administration, he governed southern New York from the withdrawal of the British until the assembling of the Legislature.

Having decided to go outside his own party, Hamilton made no mistake in picking his man. If Clinton was the Hampden of the colonial period, Robert Yates could well be called its Pym. He had toleration as well as patriotism. But he also had an itching desire for office. Some one has said that the close connection between man and a child is never more clearly illustrated than in the joy and pride which the wisest statesman feels in the wearing of a ribbon or a star. It could not be said of Robert Yates then, as it was said, with good reason, six years later, that his desire for office extinguished his devotion to party and his character for political consistency, but it was openly charged that, upon the suggestion of Hamilton, he urged the grand jury to support the Federal Constitution in order to strengthen himself with the Federalists. Whether this be true or not, Yates' previous devotion to the anti-Federalist party set his present conduct in sharp contrast to that of other distinguished anti-Federalist statesmen of the time—to men like Samuel Jones and Melancthon Smith, who accepted the action of the Poughkeepsie convention, but supported George Clinton. "Men, not principles, are involved," they declared.

All that we know of Yates would seem to deny his surrender of principle, or his condescension to any act of baseness, to obtain office. It was indeed a question whether Clinton, or Hamilton through Yates, should control the state government; but the gubernatorial contest involved more than that. The new government, soon to be placed on trial, needed the help of sympathetic governors and legislatures, and Clinton and his supporters, forced to accept the Constitution, could hardly be regarded as its wisest and safest guardians. From Hamilton's standpoint, therefore, it was more principle than men. However agreeable to him it might be to defeat and humiliate Clinton, greater satisfaction must spring from the consciousness that while in its leading-strings, at least, the general government would have the hearty support of New York.

Hamilton's great coalition, intended to work such wonders, boasted many brilliant names. Of the younger men Robert Troup, of Hamilton's age, an early friend of Burr, took a most conspicuous part, while among the older members of this galaxy was James Duane, a lawyer of rare ability, the first mayor of New York, for ten years continuously in the Continental Congress, a man of great force, of large wealth, and superb character. He was in his forties when Hamilton, a boy of seventeen, won his heart by a single speech, denouncing the act of Parliament which closed the port of Boston. The most notable man in the coalition, next to Hamilton and Jay, was Robert R. Livingston, now Hamilton's devoted friend, before long to be his bitter enemy. He was still young, little more than forty, but in everything he was bold and skilful, vigorous as a writer, eloquent as a speaker, deeply learned as a jurist, and rich in scholarship. Of the same age as Livingston was William Duer,[51] who started at eighteen as an aide to Lord Clive in India. Duer was at one time the most useful man in America. Nobody could cheat him. As soon as Hamilton became secretary of the treasury, he made Duer assistant secretary, an office which he held with credit until 1790, when he resigned to become the chief of a ring of speculators, who, two years later, left him insolvent and in jail. Hamilton's coalition also furnished the only instance of the political association of himself and Burr, although Burr's support of Yates is said to have been personal rather than political. The story is that Burr, seeking admission to the bar after reading law less than a year, induced Judge Yates to suspend the rule requiring three years of study, because of the applicant's term as a soldier, a service that laid the foundation of a lasting friendship.

[Footnote 51: It was his son, William Alexander Duer, the brilliant and accomplished writer, who presided for thirteen years with such distinguished ability over Columbia College.]

On the opposite side were many men who live in history as builders of the Empire State. None belong to the gallery of national characters, perhaps, but John Lansing, Livingston's successor as chancellor, and Samuel Jones,[52] the first state comptroller, known, by common consent, as the father of the New York bar, find places in the list of New York's ablest statesmen. To this memorable company also belonged Melancthon Smith, the head of the anti-Federalist forces at the Poughkeepsie convention, and Gilbert Livingston of Dutchess, whose one patriotic address was the last blow needed to ratify the Constitution. He was not, like Smith, a great debater, but his ready eloquence classed him among the orators who were destined to live in the memory of a later generation. Beside him was James Clinton, brother of the Governor and father of DeWitt Clinton. A soldier by profession, he had taken part in several important battles and marches, charging with Bradstreet at the capture of Fort Frontenac, following the lamented Montgomery to Quebec, and serving with Sullivan in his famous expedition against the Indians. Finally, he shared in the glory of being with Washington at the surrender of Lord Cornwallis. He seems to have been the real soldier of the family, blending the strong, active powers of the Clinton mind with the gentler virtues which made him as sympathetic on the field as he was affectionate in the home.

[Footnote 52: "No one," said Chancellor Kent, writing of Samuel Jones, "surpassed him in clearness of intellect and in moderation and simplicity of character; no one equalled him in his accurate knowledge of the technical rules and doctrines of real property, and his familiarity with the skilful and elaborate, but now obsolete and mysterious, black-letter learning of the common law."]

Thus the contest between Yates and Clinton, although the first real political conflict in the history of the State, became one of the sharpest and most bitterly fought. For six weeks the atmosphere was thick and hot with political passion. Veteran observers declared that their generation had seen nothing like it. But the arguments of Duer, the powerful influence of Chancellor Livingston, the leadership of Hamilton, and the phenomenal popularity of John Jay, could not win the voters who saw nothing more in the arrangement than a question of individual preference, and while Yates carried the western district by a large majority and held his own in the southern, Clinton's home county gave him 1093 out of 1245 votes, making his majority 429 in a total vote of 12,353.

The call for the Governor was so close that he quickly prepared for a repetition of the contest in 1792. The inauguration of Washington on April 30 had given Hamilton control of the federal offices in New York, and, although of trifling importance compared to state patronage, they were used to strengthen federalism, and, if possible, to destroy Clinton. John Jay became chief justice of the Supreme Court, James Duane judge of the District Court, Richard Harrison United States attorney, and William S. Smith United States marshal. It was a brilliant array of talent and legal learning. Of the lights and ornaments of the law in his day, Richard Harrison excelled in an intimate knowledge of its intricacies and mysteries. Added to these officials were Rufus King and Philip Schuyler, United States senators, and three members of Congress, with Egbert Benson at their head. As secretary of the treasury and the trusted friend of the President, Hamilton had also multiplied his personal influence.

Governor Clinton felt the full force of the Federalist combination, the fear of which had intensified his hostility to the Union; but he governed his conduct with the toleration and foresight of a master politician. He declined to punish those who had deserted his standard, refusing to accept Robert Yates' apostacy as sufficient cause to bar his promotion as chief justice, and appointing to the vacancy John Lansing, Jr., who, although a strong anti-Federalist, had already shown an independence of political domination.

But the master-stroke of Clinton's diplomacy displayed itself in the appointment of Aaron Burr as attorney-general. After Burr left the army "with the character of a true knight," as John Adams put it, he began the practice of law at Albany. Later he removed to New York, taking up his home in Maiden Lane. Thus far his political career, limited to two terms in the Legislature, had been insignificant. During the great controversy over the Federal Constitution he remained silent. His silence, however, was the silence of concealment. He shared no confidences, he exploited no principles, he did nothing in the open. He lived in an air of mystery, writing letters in cipher, using messengers instead of the mails, and maintaining espionage upon the movements of others. Of himself he wrote to Theodosia, "he is a grave, silent, strange sort of animal, inasmuch that we know not what to make of him." In the political parlance of to-day, his methods savoured of the "still hunt," and in their exercise he exhibited the powers of a past-master in stirring up men's prejudices, and creating divisions among his rivals; but his methods, whether practised in law or in politics, were neither modern nor moral. He marshalled forces with equal celerity under either flag.

Shortly after Burr moved into Maiden Lane, Hamilton made his home in Wall Street. Their first meeting, which occurred on the road from Harlem bridge to White Plains during the disastrous retreat of Washington's army from Manhattan in September, 1776, had been characterised by mutual dislike. Burr, with the rank of major, acted as aide to General Putnam; Hamilton, as an officer of artillery, was soon to become an aide to Washington. Both were young then—Hamilton not yet twenty, Burr scarcely twenty-one; yet their character, then fully developed, shines out in their estimate of the commander-in-chief. Burr thought Washington inferior as an officer, and weak, though honest, as a man; Hamilton thought him a great soldier and a great statesman, upon whose services the welfare of the country largely depended. Burr's prejudices settled into positive dislike; Hamilton's appreciation voiced the sentiment of the people and the judgment of posterity.

There is a legend that from the first, destiny seemed determined to oppose the genius and fame of Hamilton with the genius and fame of Aaron Burr. It is certainly a remarkable coincidence that two men, born without the State, so nearly of an age, so similar in brilliant attainments, so notably distinguished in charm of manner and phenomenal accomplishments, and so strikingly alike in ripeness of intelligence and bent of ambition, should happen to have lived at the same time, in the same city, and become members of the same profession; yet it is not surprising that these men should prove formidable rivals and deadly foes, since difference in character was far more real than resemblance of mental attainments. Both were fearless and brave, but the one was candid, frank and resolute; the other subtle, crafty and adventurous. Perhaps their only common characteristic was an ungoverned admiration for the charms of women, though, unlike Burr, Hamilton neither bragged of his amours, nor boasted that success attended his pursuit of pleasure.

It can hardly be supposed that in appointing Burr attorney-general, Clinton did not have in mind the necessity of securing to the ranks of the anti-Federalists all talented and spirited young men; but it is none the less evident that Clinton was thinking more of himself than of his party. Burr figured as an ugly opponent in the recent campaign. Besides, he possessed the happy faculty of surrounding himself with young men who recognised in him a superlative combination of bravery, chivalry, and ability. Hamilton called them "Burr's myrmidons," but Theodosia, with a daughter's devotion and diplomatic zeal, entitled them "the Tenth Legion." They had joined Burr when a violent Whig in 1784, sending him to the Assembly for two terms; they had rallied under his call to the Sons of Liberty, attracting the fierce fire of Hamilton; and they had broken party bonds to support Robert Yates because of their chief's personal friendship.

Such a man would attract the attention of any political manager, and although Clinton up to this time had had no particular relations with Burr, the latter's enthusiastic support of Yates accentuated his political value. In after years Burr declared that Clinton had always been his rival, and Clinton no less frankly avowed his distrust of Burr, charging him with always being "for sale;" but Burr's rivalry and Clinton's distrust do not date back to 1790.

If Clinton thought himself fortunate in gaining Burr, he was still more fortunate in the defection of the influential Livingstons. What Caesar said of Gaul used to be said of the Empire State, that all New York was divided into three parts—the Clintons, the Livingstons, and the Schuylers. Parton said "the Clintons had power, the Livingstons had numbers, and the Schuylers had Hamilton."[53] In 1788 seven members of the Livingston family, with the Schuylers, had overthrown the Clintons, and turned the Confederation into the Union. Robert R. Livingston, standing at their head, was the exponent of a liberal policy toward all American citizens, and the champion of a broader national life. His associates were the leading Federalists; his principles were the pillars of his party; and his ambitions centred in the success and strength of his country.

[Footnote 53: James Parton, Life of Aaron Burr, Vol. 1, p. 169. "New York, much more than New England, was the home of natural leaders and family alliances. John Jay, the governor; the Schuylers, led by Philip Schuyler and his son-in-law, Alexander Hamilton; the Livingstons, led by Robert R. Livingston, with a promising younger brother, Edward, nearly twenty years his junior, and a brother-in-law, John Armstrong, besides Samuel Osgood, Morgan Lewis and Smith Thompson, other connections by marriage with the great Livingston stock; the Clintons, headed by George, the governor, and supported by the energy of DeWitt, his nephew,—all these Jays, Schuylers, Livingstons, Clintons, had they lived in New England, would probably have united in the support of their class; but being citizens of New York they quarrelled."—Henry Adams, History of the United States, Vol. 1, pp. 108-09.]

Prudence, therefore, if no higher motive, required that the Livingstons be not overlooked in the division of federal patronage. There was much of it to divide. Besides cabinet positions and judicial appointments, the foreign service offered rare opportunities to a few accomplished statesmen and recognised scholars. Robert R. Livingston, as chancellor of New York, stood in line of promotion for chief justice of the United States Supreme Court, but John Jay stood nearer to Hamilton, just as Philip Schuyler did when United States senators were chosen. Other honourable and most desirable positions, however, were open. John Quincy Adams thought a mission to England or France better than the Cabinet, but Gouverneur Morris went to France, Thomas Pinckney to England, William Short to Spain, and David Humphreys to Portugal. The Livingstons were left out.

Hamilton's funding system, especially the proposed assumption of state debts, then dividing the public mind, afforded plausible cause for opposing federalism; and ostensibly for this reason, the Livingstons ceased to be Federalists. Some of the less conspicuous members, residents of Columbia County, continued their adherence, but the statesmen who give the family its name in history wanted nothing more of a party whose head was a "young adventurer," a man "not native to the soil," a "merchant's clerk from the West Indies." The story is that the Chancellor convened the family and made the separation so complete that Washington's subsequent offer of the mission to France failed to secure his return.

The first notice of the Livingston break was in the election of a United States senator in 1791. Philip Schuyler, Hamilton's father-in-law, confidently expected a re-election. His selection for the short term was with this understanding. But several members of the Assembly, nominally Federalists, were friendly to Clinton, who preferred Aaron Burr to Schuyler because of Hamilton's influence over him;[54] and when the Governor promised Morgan Lewis, the Chancellor's brother-in-law, Burr's place as attorney-general, Livingston's disposition to injure Hamilton became intensified, and to the disappointment of Schuyler, the vote of the Legislature disclosed a small majority for Burr.

[Footnote 54: In a letter to Theodorus Bailey, Chancellor Kent, then a member of the Assembly, expressed the opinion that "things look auspicious for Burr. It will be in some measure a question of northern and southern interests. The objection of Schuyler's being related to the Secretary has weight."—William Kent, Memoirs and Letters of James Kent, p. 39.]

It is easy to conjecture that the haughty, unpopular, aristocratic old General[55] would not be as acceptable as a young man of thirty-five, fascinating in manner, gifted in speech, and not yet openly and offensively partisan; but it needed something more than this charm of personality to line up the hard-headed, self-reliant legislator against Hamilton and Philip Schuyler, and Burr found it in his appeal to Clinton, and in the clever brother-in-law suggestion to Livingston.

[Footnote 55: "The defeat of Schuyler was attributed partly to the unprepossessing austerity of his manner."—Ibid., p. 38.]

The defeat of Schuyler was a staggering blow to Hamilton. The great statesman had achieved success as secretary of the treasury, but as a political manager, his lack of tact, impatience of control, and infirmity of temper, had crippled the organisation. In less than three years the party had lost a United States senator, suffered the separation of a family vastly more important than federal appointees, and sacrificed the prestige of victory, so necessary to political success.



CHAPTER VI

GEORGE CLINTON DEFEATS JOHN JAY

1792-1795

Burr's rapid advancement gave full rein to his ambition. Not content with the exalted office to which he had suddenly fallen heir, he now began looking for higher honours; and when it came time to select candidates for governor, he invoked the tactics that won him a place in the United States Senate. He found a few anti-Federalists willing to talk of him as a stronger candidate than George Clinton, and a few Federalists who claimed that the moderate men of both parties would rally to his support. In the midst of the talk Isaac Ledyard wrote Hamilton that "a tide was likely to make strongly for Mr. Burr,"[56] and James Watson, in a similar strain, argued that Burr's chances, if supported by Federalists, would be "strong."[57]

[Footnote 56: James Parton, Life of Aaron Burr, Vol. 1, p. 187.]

[Footnote 57: Ibid., 188.]

Clinton's firm hold upon his party quickly checked Burr's hope from that quarter, but the increasing difficulty among Federalists to find a candidate offered opportunity for Burr's peculiar tactics, until his adherents were everywhere—on the bench, in the Legislature, in the drawing-rooms, the coffee-houses, and the streets. Hamilton had only to present him and say, "Here is your candidate," and Aaron Burr would cheerfully have opposed the friend who, within less than two years, had appointed him attorney-general and elected him United States senator. But Hamilton deliberately snuffed him out. The great Federalist had finally induced John Jay to become the candidate of his party. This was on February 13, 1792. Two days later, the anti-Federalists named George Clinton and Pierre Van Cortlandt, the old ticket which had done service for fifteen years.

In inducing John Jay to lead his party, Hamilton made a good start. Heretofore Jay had steadily refused to become a candidate for governor. "That the office of the first magistrate of the State," he wrote, May 16, 1777, "will be more respectable as well as more lucrative than the place I now fill is very apparent; but my object in the course of the present great contest neither has been nor will be either rank or money."[58] After his return from Europe, when Governor Clinton's division of patronage and treatment of royalists had become intensely objectionable, Jay was again urged to stand as a candidate, but he answered that "a servant should not leave a good old master for the sake of more pay or a prettier livery."[59] If this was good reasoning in 1786 and 1789, when he was secretary of foreign affairs, it was better reasoning in 1792, when he was chief justice of the United States; but the pleadings of Hamilton seem to have set a presidential bee buzzing, or, at least, to have started ambition in a mind until now without ambition. At any rate, Jay, suddenly and without any apparent reason, consented to exchange the most exalted office next to President, to chance the New York governorship.

[Footnote 58: William Jay, Life of John Jay, Vol. 1, p. 162.]

[Footnote 59: Ibid., p. 198.]

There had never been a time since John Jay entered public life that he was not the most popular man in the city of New York. In 1788 he received for delegate to the Poughkeepsie convention, twenty-seven hundred and thirty-five votes out of a total of twenty-eight hundred and thirty-three. John Adams called him "a Roman" because he resembled Cato more than any of his contemporaries. Jay's life divided itself into three distinct epochs of twenty-eight years each—study and the practice of law, public employment, and retirement. During the years of uninterrupted public life, he ran the gamut of office-holding. It is a long catalogue, including delegate to the Continental Congress, framer of the New York Constitution, chief justice of the New York Supreme Court, president of the Continental Congress, minister to Spain, member of the Peace Commission, secretary of foreign affairs, chief justice of the United States Supreme Court, negotiator of the Jay treaty, and finally governor of New York. No other American save John Quincy Adams and John Marshall ever served his country so continuously in such exalted and responsible place. On his return from Europe after an absence of five years, Adams said he returned to his country "like a bee to its hive, with both legs loaded with merit and honour."[60]

[Footnote 60: To Thos. Barclay, May 24, 1784, Hist. Mag., 1869, p. 358.]

Jay accepted the nomination for governor in 1792, on condition that he be not asked to take part in the campaign. "I made it a rule," he wrote afterward, "neither to begin correspondence nor conversation upon the subject."[61] Accordingly, while New York was deeply stirred, the Chief Justice leisurely rode over his circuit, out of hearing and out of sight of the political disturbance, apparently indifferent to the result.

[Footnote 61: William Jay, Life of John Jay, Vol. 1, p. 289.]

The real political campaign which is still periodically made in New York, may be said to have had its beginning in April, 1792. Seldom has an election been contested with such prodigality of partisan fury. The rhetoric of abuse was vigorous and unrestrained; the campaign lie active and ingenious; the arraignment of class against class sedulous and adroit, and the excitement most violent and memorable. If a weapon of political warfare failed to be handled with craft and with courage, its skilful use was unknown.

Indeed, if any one doubts that it was a real time of political upheaval, he has only to glance at local histories. Federalists and anti-Federalists were alike convulsed by a movement which was the offspring of a genuine and irresistible enthusiasm of that strong, far-reaching kind that makes epochs in the history of politics. The people having cut loose from royalty, now proposed cutting loose from silk stockings, knee breeches, powdered hair, pigtails, shoe buckles, and ruffled shirts—the emblems of nobility. Perhaps they did not then care for the red plush waistcoats, the yarn stockings, and the slippers down at the heel, which Jefferson was to carry into the White House; but in their effort to overthrow the tyranny of the past, they were beginning to demand broader suffrage and less ceremony, a larger, freer man, and less caste. To them, therefore, Jay and Clinton represented the aristocrat and the democrat. Jay, they said, had been nurtured in the lap of ease, Clinton had worked his way from the most humble rank; Jay luxuriated in splendid courts, Clinton dwelt in the home of the lowly son of toil; Jay was the choice of the rich, Clinton the man of the people; Jay relied upon the support of the President and the Secretary of the Treasury, Clinton upon the poor villager and the toiling farmer.

Newspapers charged Jay with saying that "there ought to be in America only two sorts of people, one very rich, the other very poor,"[62] and to support the misrepresentation, they quoted his favourite maxim that "those who own the country ought to govern it," pointing to the State Constitution which he drafted, to prove that only the well-to-do could vote. The Dutch, largely the slave holders of the State, accused him of wishing to rob them by the abolition of slavery. Dressed in other rhetorical clothes, these stories did service again in 1795 and 1798.

[Footnote 62: George Pellew, Life of John Jay, p. 275.]

But the assumption of state debts, and Hamilton's financial system, became the fiercest objects of attack. To them were traced the "reign of speculators" that flowered in the year 1791. "Bank bubbles, tontines, lotteries, monopolies, usury, gambling and swindling abound," said the New York Journal; "poverty in the country, luxury in the capitals, corruption and usurpation in the national councils." Hamilton's system had given the deepest stab to the hopes of the anti-Federalists, since it taught people to look to the Union rather than to the State. Internal taxes and import duties were paid to the United States; coin was minted by the United States; paper money issued by the United States; letters carried and delivered by the United States; and state debts assumed by the United States. All this had a tendency to break state attachments and state importance; and in striking back, Republican orators branded the reports of the Secretary of the Treasury as "dangerous to liberty," the assumption of debts as "a clever device for enslaving the people," and the whole fiscal system "a dishonest scheme." The failure and imprisonment of William Duer, until recently Hamilton's trusted assistant, followed by riots in New York City, gave colour to the charge, and, although the most bitter opponents of the great Federalist in no wise connected him with any corrupt transaction, yet in the spring of 1792 Hamilton, the friend and backer of Jay, was the most roundly abused man in the campaign.

The Federalists resented misrepresentation with misrepresentation. Clinton's use of patronage, his opposition to the Federal Constitution, and the impropriety of having a military governor in time of peace, objections left over from 1789, still figured as set pieces in rhetorical fireworks; but the great red light, burned at every meeting throughout the State, exposed Governor Clinton as secretly profiting by the sale of public lands. The Legislature of 1791 authorised the five state officers, acting as Commissioners of the Land Office, to sell unappropriated lands in such parcels and on such terms as they deemed expedient, and under this power 5,542,173 acres returned $1,030,433. Some of the land brought three shillings per acre, some two shillings six pence, some one shilling, but Alexander McComb picked up 3,635,200 acres at eight pence. McComb was a friend of Clinton. More than that, he was a real estate dealer and speculator. In the legislative investigation that followed, resolutions condemning the commissioners' conduct tangled up Clinton in a division of the profits, and sent McComb to jail. This was a sweet morsel for the Federalists. It mattered not that the Governor denied it; that McComb contradicted it; that no proof supported it; or that the Assembly acquitted him by a party vote of thirty-five to twenty; the story did effective campaign service, and lived to torture Aaron Burr, one of the commissioners, ten years afterward. Burr tried to escape responsibility by pleading absence when the contracts were made; but the question never ceased coming up—if absence included all the months of McComb's negotiations, what time did the Attorney-General give to public business?

It was a deep grief to Jay that the Livingstons opposed him. The Chancellor and Edward were his wife's cousins, Brockholst her brother. Brockholst had been Jay's private secretary at the embassy in Madrid, but now, to use a famous expression of that day, "the young man's head was on fire," and violence characterised his political feelings and conduct. Satirical letters falsely attributed to Jay fanned the sparks of the Livingston opposition into a bright blaze, and, although the Chief Justice denied the insinuation, the Chancellor gave battle with the enthusiasm of a new convert.

As one glances through the list of workers in the campaign of 1792, he is reminded that the juniors or beginners soon came to occupy higher and more influential positions than some of their elders and leaders. DeWitt Clinton, for instance, not yet in office, was soon to be in the Assembly, in the State Senate, and in the United States Senate—a greater force than any man of his time in New York, save Hamilton. James Kent had just entered the Assembly. As a student in Egbert Benson's office, his remarkable industry impressed clients and teacher, but when his voice sounded the praises of John Jay, few could have anticipated that this young man, small in stature, vivacious in speech, quick in action, with dark eyes and a swarthy complexion, was destined to become one of the most famous jurists in a century. Ambrose Spencer had not yet scored his first political honour, but his herculean frame and stately presence, with eyes and complexion darker than Kent's, are to be seen leading in every political contest for more than forty years.

There were also Smith Thompson, taught in the law by Chancellor Kent and tutored in politics by George Clinton, who was to follow the former Chief Justice and end his days on the United States Supreme bench; Joseph C. Yates, founder of Union College, and Samuel L. Mitchill, scientist and politician, who has been called the Franklin of New York. Younger than these, but equally alert, was Cadwallader A. Colden, grandson of the royal lieutenant-governor of Stamp Act days. He was now only twenty-two, just beginning at the bar, but destined to be the intimate friend of Robert Fulton, a famous leader of a famous bar, and a political chieftain of a distinguished career.[63]

[Footnote 63: Interested in this exciting campaign was yet a younger generation, who soon contested their right-of-way to political leadership. Erastus Root was a junior at Dartmouth; Daniel D. Tompkins had just entered Columbia; Martin Van Buren was in a country school on the farm at Kinderhook; John Treat Irving was playing on the banks of the river to be made famous by his younger brother; and William W. Van Ness, the rarest genius of them all, and his younger cousin, William P. Van Ness, were listening to the voices that would soon summon them, one in support of the brilliant Federalist leader, the other as a second to Aaron Burr in the great tragedy at Weehawken on the 11th of July, 1804.]

At the election, the people gave Jay a majority of their votes; but at the count, a majority of the state canvassers gave Clinton the governorship. This was the first vicious party precedent established in the Empire State. It has had many successors at the polls, in the Legislature, and at the primaries, but none bolder and more harmful, or ruder and more outrageously wrong. Under the law, inspectors of election sealed the ballots, delivered them to the sheriff or his deputy, who conveyed them to the secretary of state. In Otsego County, Richard R. Smith's term as sheriff had expired, and the new sheriff had not yet qualified, but Smith delivered the ballots to a person specially deputised by him. Tioga's sheriff turned the ballots over to his deputy, who, being taken ill on the journey, handed them to a clerk for transmission. In Clinton the sheriff gave the votes to a man without deputation. No ballots were missing, no seals were broken, nor had their delivery been delayed for a moment. But as soon as it became known that these counties gave Jay a majority of about four hundred, quite enough to elect him, it was claimed that the votes had not been conveyed to the secretary of state by persons authorised to do so under the law, and the canvassers, voting as their party preferences dictated, ruled out the returns by a vote of seven to four in Clinton's favour. The discussion preceding this action, however, was so acrimonious and the alleged violation of law so technical, that the board agreed to refer the controversy to Rufus King and Aaron Burr, the United States senators.

Burr had many an uneasy hour. He preferred to avoid the responsibility, since an opinion might jeopardise his political interests. If he found for Clinton, his Federalist friends would take offence; if he antagonised Clinton, the anti-Federalists would cast him out. Thus far it had been his policy to keep in the background, directing others to act for him; now he must come out into the open. He temporised, delayed, sought suggestions of friends, and endeavoured to induce his colleague to join him in declining to act as a referee, but King saw no reason for avoiding an opinion, and in answering the question of the canvassers, he took the broad ground that an election law should be construed in furtherance of the right of suffrage. The act was for the protection of voters whose rights could not be jeopardised by the negligence or misconduct of an agent charged with the delivery of the ballots, nor by canvassers charged with their counting. It was preposterous to suppose that the sudden illness of a deputy, or the failure of an official to qualify, could disfranchise the voters of a whole county. If it were otherwise, then the foolish or intentional misconduct of a sheriff might at any time overturn the will of a majority. There was no pretence of wrong-doing. The ballots had been counted, sealed, and delivered to the secretary of state no less faithfully than if there had been a technical adherence to the strict letter of the law. He favoured canvassing Tioga's vote, therefore, although it was doubtful if a deputy sheriff could deputise a deputy, while the vote of Clinton should be canvassed because a sheriff may deputise by parol. As to Otsego, on which the election really turned, King held that Smith was sheriff until a successor qualified, if not in law, then in fact; and though such acts of a de facto officer as are voluntarily and exclusively beneficial to himself are void, those are valid that tend to the public utility.

Burr was uninfluenced by respect for suffrage. Being statutory law, it must be construed literally, not in spirit, or because of other rights involved. He agreed with his colleague as to the law governing the Clinton case; but following the letter of the act, he held that Tioga's votes ought not to be counted, since a deputy could not appoint a deputy. The Otsego ballots were also rejected because the right of a sheriff to hold over did not exist at common law; and as the New York statute did not authorise it, Smith's duties ceased at the end of his term; nor could he be an officer de facto, since he had accepted and exercised for one day the office of supervisor, which was incompatible with that of sheriff. In other words, Burr reduced the question of Jay's election to Smith's right to act, and to avoid the de facto right, so ably presented by Senator King, he relied upon Smith's service of a day as supervisor before receiving and forwarding the ballots, notwithstanding sheriffs invariably held over until their successors qualified. Seven of such cases had occurred in fifteen years, and never before had the right been seriously questioned. In one instance a hold-over sheriff had executed a criminal. When urged to appoint a sheriff for Otsego earlier in the year, Governor Clinton excused his delay because the old one could hold over.

After this decision, only Clinton himself could avert the judgment certain to be rendered by a partisan board. Nevertheless, the Governor remained silent. Thus, by a strict party vote of seven to four, the canvassers, omitting the three counties with four hundred majority in Jay's favour, returned 8,440 votes for Clinton and 8,332 for Jay. Then, to destroy all evidence of their shame, the ballots were burned, although the custom obtained of preserving them in the office of the secretary of state.[64]

[Footnote 64: A few days after Clinton's inauguration Burr wrote a Federalist friend: "I earnestly wished and sought to be relieved from the necessity of giving any opinion, particularly as it would be disagreeable to you and a few others whom I respect and wish always to gratify; but the conduct of Mr. King left me no alternative. I was obliged to give an opinion.... It would, indeed, be the extreme of weakness in me to expect friendship from Mr. Clinton. I have too many reasons to believe that he regards me with jealousy and malevolence.... Some pretend, but none can believe, that I am prejudiced in his favour. I have not even seen or spoken to him since January last." This letter had scarcely been delivered when Clinton appointed him to the Supreme Court, an office which Burr declined, preferring to remain in the Senate.]

News travelled slowly in those days. There were no telegrams, no reporters, no regular correspondents, no special editions to tell the morning reader what had happened the day before; but when it once became known that John Jay had been counted out, the people of the State were aroused to the wildest passion of rage, recalling the famous Tilden-Hayes controversy three-quarters of a century later. A returning board, it was claimed, had overturned the will of the people; and to the superheated excitement of the campaign, was added the fierce anger of an outraged party. Wild menaces were uttered, and the citizens of Otsego threatened an appeal to arms. "People are running in continually," wrote Mrs. Jay to her husband, "to vent their vexation. Senator King says he thinks Clinton as lawfully governor of Connecticut as of New York, but he knows of no redress."[65] Hamilton agreed with King, and counselled peaceful submission.

[Footnote 65: Jay MSS.]

Meantime the Chief Justice was returning home from Vermont by way of Albany. At Lansingburgh the people met him, and from thence to New York public addresses and public dinners were followed with the roar of artillery and the shouts of the populace. "Though abuse of power may for a time deprive you and the citizens of their right," said one committee, "we trust the sacred flame of liberty is not so far extinguished in the bosoms of Americans as tamely to submit to the shackles of slavery, without at least a struggle to shake them off."[66] Citizens of New York met him eight miles from the city, and upon his arrival, "the friends of liberty" condemned the men who would deprive him of the high office "in contempt of the sacred voice of the people, in defiance of the Constitution, and in violation of the uniform practice and settled principles of law."[67]

[Footnote 66: William Jay, Life of John Jay, Vol. 1, p. 290.]

[Footnote 67: Ibid., p. 292.]

During these days of excitement, Jay conducted himself with remarkable forbearance and dignity. It was the poise of Washington. "The reflection that the majority of electors were for me is a pleasing one," he wrote his wife; "that injustice has taken place does not surprise me, and I hope will not affect you very sensibly. The intelligence found me perfectly prepared for it. A few years more will put us all in the dust, and it will then be of more importance to me to have governed myself than to have governed the State."[68] This thought influenced his conduct throughout. When armed resistance seemed inevitable, he raised his voice in opposition to all feeling. "Every consideration of propriety forbids that difference in opinion respecting candidates should suspend or interrupt that natural good humour which harmonises society, and softens the asperities incident to human life and human affairs."[69] At a large dinner on the 4th of July, Jay gave the toast: "May the people always respect themselves, and remember what they owe to posterity;" but after he had retired, the banqueters let loose their tongues, drinking to "John Jay, Governor by voice of the people," and to "the Governor (of right) of the State of New York."

[Footnote 68: Ibid., p. 289.]

[Footnote 69: Ibid., p. 293.]

Clinton entered upon his sixth term as governor amidst vituperation and obloquy. He was known as the "Usurper," and in order to reduce him to a mere figurehead, the Federalists who controlled the Assembly, led by Josiah Ogden Hoffman, the brilliant New York lawyer, now proposed to choose a new Council of Appointment, although the term of the old Council had not yet expired. The Constitution provided that the Council should hold office one year, and that the Governor, with the advice of the Council, should appoint to office. Up to this time such had been the accepted practice. Nevertheless, the Federalists, having a majority of the Assembly, forced the election of a Council made up entirely of members of their own party, headed by Philip Schuyler, the veteran legislator and soldier, and then proceeded to nominate and confirm Egbert Benson as a judge of the Supreme Court. Clinton, as governor and a member of the Council, refused to nominate Benson, insisting that the exclusive right of nomination was vested in him. Here the matter should have ended under the Constitution as Jay interpreted it; but Schuyler held otherwise, claiming that the Council had a concurrent right to nominate. He went further, and decided that whenever the law omitted to limit the number of officers, the Council might do it, and whenever an officer must be commissioned annually, another might be put in his place at the expiration of his commission. This would give the Council power to increase at will the number of officials not otherwise limited by law, and to displace every anti-Federalist at the expiration of his commission.

Clinton argued that the governor, being charged under the Constitution with the execution of the laws, was vested with exclusive discretion as to the number of officers necessary to their execution, whereas, if left to one not responsible for such execution, too many or too few officials might be created. With respect to the continuation of an incumbent in office at the pleasure of the Council, "the Constitution did not intend," he said, "a capricious, arbitrary pleasure, but a sound discretion to be exercised for the promotion of the public good; that a contrary practice would deprive men of their offices because they have too much independence of spirit to support measures they suppose injurious to the community, and might induce others from undue attachment to office to sacrifice their integrity to improper considerations."[70] This was good reasoning and good prophecy; but his protests fell upon ears as deaf to a wise policy as did the protests of Jay's friends when the board of canvassers counted Jay out and Clinton in.

[Footnote 70: Jabez D. Hammond, Political History of New York, Vol. 1, p. 84.]

The action of the Council of Appointment was a stunning blow to Clinton. Under Jay's constitution, every officer in city, county, and State, civil and military, save governor, lieutenant-governor, members of the Legislature, and aldermen, could now be appointed by the Council regardless of the Governor; and already these appointments mounted up into hundreds. In 1821 they numbered over fifteen thousand. Thus, as if by magic, the Council was turned into a political machine. Under this arrangement, a party only needed a majority of the Assembly to elect a Council which made all appointments, and the control of appointments was sufficient to elect a majority of the Assembly. Thus it was an endless chain the moment the Council became a political machine, and it became a political machine the moment Philip Schuyler headed the Council of 1793.

This arbitrary proceeding led to twenty years of corrupt methods and political scandals. Schuyler's justification was probably the conviction that poetic justice required that Clinton, having become governor without right, should have his powers reduced to their lowest terms; but whatever the motive, his action was indefensible, and his reply that the Governor's practices did not correspond to his precepts fell for want of proof. Clinton had then been in office seventeen years, and, although he took good care to select members of his own party, only one case, and that a doubtful one, could be cited in support of the charge that appointments had been made solely for political purposes.

In a published address, on January 22, 1795, Governor Clinton declined to stand for re-election in the following April because of ill health and neglected private affairs. Included in this letter was the somewhat apocryphal statement that he withdrew from an office never solicited, which he had accepted with diffidence, and from which he should retire with pleasure. The reader who has followed the story of his career through the campaigns of 1789 and 1792 will scarcely believe him serious in this declaration, although he undoubtedly retired with pleasure. At the time of his withdrawal, he had an attack of inflammatory rheumatism, but he was neither a sick man nor an old one, being then in his fifty-fifth year, with twelve years of honourable public life still before him. It is likely the reason in the old rhyme, "He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day," had more to do with his retirement than shattered health and crippled fortune. Defeat has never been regarded helpful to future political preferment, and this shrewd reader of the signs of the times, his ambition already fixed on higher honours and more exalted place, saw the coming political change in New York as clearly and unmistakably as an approaching storm announced itself in an increase of his rheumatic aches.



CHAPTER VII

RECOGNITION OF EARNEST MEN

1795-1800

With Clinton out of the race for governor in 1795, his party's weakness discovered itself in the selection of Chief Justice Robert Yates, Hamilton's coalition candidate in 1789. It was a makeshift nomination, since none cared to run after Clinton's declination sounded a note of defeat. Yates' passion for office led him into strange blunders. He seemed willing to become the candidate of any party, under any conditions, at any time, if only he could step into the official shoes of George Clinton. He was excusable in 1789, perhaps, when the way opened up a fair chance of success, but in 1795 his ambition subjected him to ridicule as well as to humiliation. It was said derisively that he was defeated, although every freeholder in the State had voted for him.

The Federalists were far from unanimous in their choice of John Jay. He had not yet returned from England, whither Washington had sent him in the preceding year to negotiate a treaty to recover, among other things, compensation for negroes who followed English troops across the Atlantic at the close of the war; to obtain a surrender of the Western military posts not yet evacuated; and to secure an article against impressments. It was believed that a storm of disapproval would greet his work, and the timid ones seriously questioned the expediency of his nomination. The submission of the treaty had already precipitated a crisis in the United States Senate, and while it might not be ratified and officially promulgated before election, grave danger existed of its clandestine publication by the press. Hamilton, however, insisted, and Jay became the nominee. "It had been so decreed from the beginning," wrote Egbert Benson.

The campaign that followed was featureless. Chief Justice Yates aroused no interest, and Chief Justice Jay was in England. From the outset, Jay's election was conceded; and a canvass of the votes showed that he had swept the State by a large majority. In 1789 Clinton received a majority of 489; in 1792 the canvassers gave him 108; but in 1795 Jay had 1589.[71]

[Footnote 71: John Jay, 13,481; Robert Yates, 11,892. Civil List, State of New York (1887), p. 166.]

What would have happened had the treaty been published before election, fills one with interested conjecture. Its disclosure on July 2, the day after Jay's inauguration, turned the applause of that joyous occasion into the most exasperating abuse. Such a sudden and tempestuous change in the popularity of a public official is unprecedented in the history of American politics. In a night the whole State was thrown into a ferment of intense excitement, the storm of vituperation seeming to centre in New York city. Jay was burned in effigy; Hamilton was struck in the face with a stone while defending Jay's work; a copy of the treaty was burned before the house of the British Minister; riot and mob violence held carnival everywhere. Party spirit never before, and never since, perhaps, ran so high. One effigy represented Jay as saying, while supporting a pair of scales, with the treaty on one side and a bag of gold on the other, "Come up to my price, and I will sell you my country." Chalked in large white letters on one of the principal streets in New York, appeared these words: "Damn John Jay! Damn every one that won't damn John Jay!! Damn every one that won't put lights in his windows and sit up all night damning John Jay!!!"[72] This revulsion of public sentiment was not exactly a tempest in a teapot, but it proved a storm of limited duration, the elections in the spring of 1796 showing decided legislative gains for the Federalists.

[Footnote 72: John Jay, Second Letter on Dawson's Federalist, N.Y., 1864, p. 19.]

Hamilton divined the cause of the trouble. "There are three persons," he wrote,[73] "prominent in the public eye as the successor of the President—Mr. Adams, Mr. Jay, and Mr. Jefferson.... Mr. Jay has been repeatedly the object of attacks with the same view. His friends, as well as his enemies, anticipated that he could make no treaty which would not furnish weapons against him; and it were to have been ignorant of the indefatigable malice of his adversaries to have doubted that they would be seized with eagerness and wielded with dexterity. The peculiar circumstances which have attended the two last elections for governor of this State have been of a nature to give the utmost keenness to party animosity. It was impossible that Mr. Jay should be forgiven for his double, and, in the last instance, triumphant success; or that any promising opportunity of detaching from him the public confidence, should pass unimproved.... Trivial facts frequently throw light upon important designs. It is remarkable that in the toasts given on July 4, 1795, whenever there appears a direct or indirect censure of the treaty, it is pretty uniformly coupled with compliments to Mr. Jefferson, and to our late governor, Mr. Clinton, with an evident design to place those gentlemen in contrast to Mr. Jay, and, decrying him, to elevate them. No one can be blind to the finger of party spirit, visible in these and similar transactions. It indicates to us clearly one powerful source of opposition to the treaty."

[Footnote 73: Hamilton's Camillus, July 23, 1795, Works, Vol. 4, p. 371.]

The treaty was undoubtedly a disappointment to the country, and not greatly pleasing to Washington. Perhaps Jay said the best thing that could be said in its favour: "One more favourable was not attainable." The thing he was sent especially to do, he failed to accomplish, except the evacuation of the posts, and a concession as to the West Indian trade, which the Senate rejected. Nevertheless the country was greatly and permanently benefited. The treaty acquired extradition for criminals; it secured the collection of debts barred by the Revolution, amounting to ten million dollars; it established the principle that war should not again be a pretext for the confiscation of debts or for the annulment of contracts between individuals; and it avoided a war with England, for which the United States was never more unprepared. "As the first treaty negotiated under the new government," says John W. Foster, "it marked a distinct advance in international practice."[74] In a recent biography of Andrew Jackson, Professor Sumner says: "Jay's treaty was a masterpiece of diplomacy, considering the times and the circumstances of this country." Even the much-criticised commercial clause, "the entering wedge," as Jay called it, proved such a gain to America, that upon the breaking out of war in 1812, Lord Sheffield declared that England had "now a complete opportunity of getting rid of that most impolitic treaty of 1794, when Lord Grenville was so perfectly duped by Jay."[75]

[Footnote 74: A Century of American Diplomacy, p. 165.]

[Footnote 75: To Mr. Abbott, November 6, 1812, Correspondence of Lord Colchester, Vol. 2, p. 409.]

John Jay's first term as governor was characteristically cautious and conservative. He began with observing the proprieties, gracefully declining the French Consul's invitation to a republican entertainment, and courageously remaining at his post during the yellow fever epidemic of 1795. With equal ease he settled the growing conflict between the severity of the past and the sympathy of the present, by changing the punishment in cases of ordinary felony, from death to imprisonment. Up to that time men might have been executed for stealing a few loaves of high-priced bread to relieve the sufferings of a hungry family. Under Jay's humane plea for mercy the death penalty was limited to treason, murder, and stealing from a church. A quarter of a century passed before Sir James Mackintosh succeeded in carrying a similar measure through the British Parliament.

In his first message Jay recommended neither the abolition of slavery, nor the discontinuance of official changes for political reasons, "since the best and most virtuous men," he said, "must, in the distribution of patronage, yield to the influence of party considerations." As the only important questions before him just then involved the freedom of slaves and reform in the civil service, his silence as to the one and his declaration as to the other were certainly sufficient to allay any suspicion that he was to become a radical reformer. He did recommend a legislative interpretation of the Constitution relating to the governor's exclusive right to nominate to office; but in the blandest and most complimentary words, the Legislature invited the Governor to let well enough alone. "The evidence of ability, integrity and patriotism," so the answer ran, "which has been invariably afforded by your conduct in the discharge of the variety of arduous and important trusts, authorise us to anticipate an administration conducive to the welfare of your constituents." This amiable answer betrayed the deft hand of Ambrose Spencer, who, to make it sweeter and more acceptable, moved the insertion of the word "invariably."[76] Thus ended the suggestion of a law that might have undone the mischief of Schuyler, and prevented the scandal and corrupt methods that obtained during the next two decades. At least, this is the thought of a later century, when civil service reform has sunk a tap-root into American soil, still frosty, perhaps, yet not wholly congealed as it seems to have been one hundred years ago.

[Footnote 76: Jabez D. Hammond, Political History of New York, Vol. 1, p. 97.]

Jay's administration might be called the reward days of earnest, able men, whose meritorious service became their passport to office. Upon the retirement in 1798 of Robert Yates and John Sloss Hobart from the Supreme bench, he appointed James Kent and Jacob Radcliff. If Jay had never done anything else, the appointment of Kent would immortalise him, just as the selection of John Marshall placed a halo about the head of President Adams. Kent, now thirty-five years old, a great lawyer and a strong partisan, had the conservatism of Jay, and held to the principles of Hamilton. He was making brilliant way in politics, showing himself an administrator, a debater, and a leader of consummate ability; but he steadily refused to withdraw from the professional path along which he was to move with such distinction. Until Kent's appearance, the administration of the law had been inefficient and unsatisfactory. Men of ability had occupied the bench; but the laborious and business methods which subsequently gave strength and character to the court, had not been applied. The custom of writing opinions in the most important cases did not then obtain, while the principles and foundation of the law were seldom explored. But Kent began at once, after a most laborious examination of the cases and the law, to bring the written opinions which enrich the reports of Caines and Johnson, to the consultations of the judges, thus setting an example to his associates, and opening the way for that admirable and orderly system of jurisprudence that has adorned the judiciary of New York for more than a century. The men of the older school had had their day. The court of Hobart was closed; the age of Kent had opened.

Radcliff, the other judicial appointee, was not a new name in 1798; but it was destined to become dearer to every lover of a chancery lawyer. He had a natural gift for chancery, and no natural inclination whatever for politics or the bench. So, after serving a single term in the Assembly, two years as an assistant attorney-general, and six years on the Supreme Court, he returned to the practice, to which he devoted the remaining forty years of his life, save when holding the office of mayor of New York in 1810, and again in 1815 during the brief retirement of DeWitt Clinton. Wherever he appeared, Radcliff's erect, dignified bearing and remarkably handsome face, illuminated with large eyes and a highly intellectual expression, marked him as a man of distinction. He set the custom of dictating bills in chancery to an amanuensis, doing it with such accuracy that a word had seldom to be changed. Of the same age as Kent, he must have been of great help to that distinguished jurist, had he continued with the court. While hovering somewhat uncertain between the bench and the bar, he removed to New York City, where the opportunities for one of his gifts soon settled the question.

Other appointments of Jay were equally satisfactory. The comptrollership of state, recently created, went to Samuel Jones in return for having patiently worked out this more perfect method of controlling and disbursing state funds. Ambrose Spencer became an assistant attorney-general, and the appointment of Rufus King as minister to England made room for the election of John Lawrence to the United States Senate. Lawrence had little claim, perhaps, to be entered in the class with Rufus King, since he was neither leader nor statesman; but he had been the faithful adjutant-general of Washington, and a steady, fearless supporter of Hamilton. Lawrence, an Englishman by birth, had settled in New York at an early period in life, and by his marriage to the daughter of Alexander McDougall, quickly came into conspicuous sympathy with the radical wing of the patriotic party. He will always be remembered in history as judge-advocate of the court that tried Major Andre. He held office almost continuously from 1775 until his death in 1810, serving eight years in the army, one in the State Senate, six in Congress, four as judge of the United States District Court, and four as a United States senator, closing his honourable career as president pro tem. of that body.

As a rebuke to Aaron Burr's snap game so successfully played in 1791, Philip Schuyler succeeded him in the United States Senate in 1797, an event that must have sweetened the closing years of the Revolutionary veteran. But Schuyler was now a sick man, and in January, 1798, he resigned the senatorial toga to others, upon whose shoulders it rested briefly, and possibly with less ease and grace. John Sloss Hobart wore it for three months. After him, for ten months, came William North, followed by James Watson, who, in turn, resigned in March, 1800. Thus, in the short period of thirty-six months, four men tasted the sweets of the exalted position so brilliantly filled by the erratic grandson of Jonathan Edwards. North and Watson were men of certain ability and certain gifts. Both had been soldiers. North had followed Arnold to Quebec, had charged with his regiment at Monmouth, had served with credit upon Baron Steuben's staff,[77] and had acquitted himself with honour at Yorktown. He belonged to that coterie of brilliant young men, noted for bravery and endurance, who quickly found favour with the fighting generals of the Revolution. Watson resigned his captaincy in 1777, and engaged successfully in mercantile pursuits, subsequently entering the Assembly with North, the former becoming speaker in 1794 and the latter in 1795 and 1796. At the time of North's election to the United States Senate, Watson was a member of the State Senate. Like Lawrence, both were perfervid Federalists, zealous champions of Hamilton, and profound believers in the wisdom of minimising, if not abrogating, the rights of States.

[Footnote 77: At twenty-two years of age, while witnessing the disgraceful rout of General Lee at Monmouth, North attracted the attention of Steuben, whose tactics and discipline the young officer subsequently introduced throughout the Continental army. The cordiality existing between the earnest aide and the brave Prussian, so dear to his friends, so formidable to his enemies, ripened into an affectionate regard that recalls the relation between Washington and Hamilton. After the war, with an annuity of twenty-five hundred dollars and sixteen thousand acres of land in Oneida County, the gift of New York, Steuben built a log house, withdrew from society, and played at farming, until in 1794 his remains were borne to the spot, not far from Trenton Falls, where stands the monument that bears his name. The faithful North visited and cared for him to the end, and under the terms of the will parcelled out the great estate among his tenants and old staff officers.]

Watson's resignation from the United States Senate enabled the Federalists to elect Gouverneur Morris just before the political change in 1800 swept them from power. Morris was a fit successor to Schuyler. His family had belonged to the State for a century and a half. The name stood for tradition and conservatism—an embodiment of the past amid the changes of revolution. His home near Harlaem, an estate of three thousand acres, with a prospect of intermingled islands and water, stretching to the Sound, which had been purchased by a great-grandfather in the middle of the preceding century, reflected the substantial character of its founder, a distinguished officer in Cromwell's army.

Gouverneur was the child of his father's second marriage. The family,[78] especially the older children, of whom Richard, chief justice of the State, was the third and youngest boy, resented the union, making Gouverneur's position resemble that of Joseph among his brethren. Twenty-two years intervened between him and Richard. Before the former left the schoolroom, the latter had succeeded his father as judge of the vice-admiralty; but as for being of any assistance to the fatherless lad Richard might as well have been vice-admiral of the blue, sailing the seas. There would be something pathetic in this estrangement, if independence and self-reliance had not dominated the youngest son as well as the older heirs of this noble family. Lewis, the eldest, served in the Continental Congress and became a signer of the Declaration of Independence, while Staats Long, the second son, wandered to England, married the Countess of Gordon, became a general in the British army, and a member of Parliament in the days of Lord North and Charles James Fox. It was a strange coincidence, one brother resisting Parliament in Congress, the other resisting Congress in Parliament.

[Footnote 78: There was a slight vein of eccentricity running through the Morris family, with its occasional outcroppings accentuated in the presence of death. The grandfather, distinguished as chief justice of New York and governor of New Jersey, forbade in his will the payment of any one for preaching his funeral sermon, but if a person volunteered, he said, commending or blaming his conduct in life, his words would be acceptable. Gouverneur's father desired no notice of his dissolution in the newspapers, not even a simple announcement of his death. "My actions," he wrote, "have been so inconsiderable in the world, that the most durable monument will not perpetuate my folly while it lasts." It is evident that Gouverneur did not inherit from him the almost bumptious self-confidence which was to mar more than help him. That inherent defect came from his mother, who gave him, also, a brilliancy and versatility that other members of the family did not share, making him more conspicuously active in high places during the exciting days of the Revolution. Gouverneur Morris was a national character; Richard and Lewis belonged exclusively to New York.]

The influences surrounding Gouverneur's youth were decidedly Tory. His mother warmly adhered to George the Third; his professors at King's taught loyalty to the Crown; his distinguished tutor in the law, William Smith, New York's Tory historian, magnified the work and the strength of Parliament; while his associates, always his mother's welcomed guests at Morrisania, were British officers, who talked of Wolfe and his glorious struggles for England. But there never was a moment from the time Gouverneur Morris entered the Provincial Congress of New York on May 22, 1775, at the age of twenty-three, that he was not conspicuously and brilliantly active in the cause of America. Whenever or wherever a Revolutionary body was organised, or for whatever purpose, Congress, Convention, or Committee of Safety, he became a member of it. Six years younger than Jay, and six years older than Hamilton, he seemed to complete that remarkable New York trio, so fertile in mental resources and so successful in achievement. He did not, like Jay, outline a constitution, but he believed, with Jay, in balancing wealth against numbers, and in contending for the protection of the rights of property against the spirit of democracy. It is interesting to study these young men, so different in temperament, yet thinking alike and acting together for a quarter of a century—Jay, gentle and modest; Hamilton, impetuous and imperious; Morris, self-confident and conceited; but on all essential matters of state, standing together like a tripod, firm and invincible. In his distrust of western influences, however, Morris was more conservative than Jay or Hamilton. He was broad and liberal toward the original thirteen States, but he wanted to subordinate the balance of the country to their control. He regarded the people who might seek homes west of the Alleghanies with something of the suspicion Jay entertained for the propertyless citizens of New York. The day would come, he believed, when those untutored, backwoods settlers would outnumber their brethren on the Atlantic coast, and he desired some provision in the Constitution which would permit the minority to rule such a majority. If these views shrivelled his statesmanship, it may be said to his credit that they discovered a prophetic gift most uncommon in those days, giving him the power to see a great empire of people in the fertile valley of the Mississippi and its tributaries.[79] Fifteen years later Robert R. Livingston expressed the belief that not in a century would a white man cross the Father of Waters.

[Footnote 79: Gouverneur Morris seemed to find history-making places. With Washington and Greene he opposed the Conway cabal; with Jay and Livingston he drafted the Constitution of the State; with Hamilton and Madison he stood for the Federal Constitution, the revision of its style being committed to his pen. Then Washington needed him, first in England, afterward as minister to France; and when Monroe relieved him in 1794 he travelled leisurely through Europe for four years, meeting its distinguished writers and statesmen, forming friendships with Madame De Stael and the Neckers, aiding and witnessing the release of Lafayette from Olmutz prison, and finally assisting the young and melancholy, but gentle and unassuming Duke of Orleans, afterward King of France, to find a temporary asylum in the United States. He returned to America ten years after he had sailed from the Delaware capes, just in time to be called to the United States Senate.]

Into the life of Jay's peaceful administration came another interesting character, the champion of every project known to the inventive genius of his day. We shall hear much of Samuel Latham Mitchill during the next three decades. He was now thirty-five years old, a sort of universal eccentric genius, already known as philosopher, scientist, teacher, and critic, a professor in Columbia, the friend of Joseph Priestley, the author of scientific essays, and the first in America to make mineralogical explorations. Perhaps if he had worked in fewer fields he might have won greater renown, making his name familiar to the general student of our own time; but he belonged to an order of intellect far higher than most of his associates, filling the books with his doings and sayings. Although his influence, even among specialists, has probably faded now, he inspired the scientific thought of his time, and established societies which still exist, and whose history, up to the time of his death in 1831, was largely his own. Mitchill belonged to the Republican party because it was the party of Jefferson, and he followed Jefferson because Jefferson was a philosopher. For the same reason he became the personal friend of Chancellor Livingston, with whom, among other things, he founded the Society for the Promotion of Agriculture, Manufactures, and the Useful Arts. It was said of Mitchill that "he was equally at home in studying the geology of Niagara, or the anatomy of an egg; in offering suggestions as to the angle of a windmill, or the shape of a gridiron; in deciphering a Babylonian brick, or in advising how to apply steam to navigation."

Mitchill became a member of the Assembly in 1798, and it was his interest in the experiments then being made of applying steam to navigation, that led him to introduce a bill repealing the act of 1787, giving John Fitch the sole right to use steamboats on the Hudson, and granting the privilege to Chancellor Livingston for a term of twenty years, provided that within a year he should build a boat of twenty tons capacity and propel it by steam at a speed of four miles an hour. John Fitch had disappeared, and with him his idea of applying steam to paddles. He had fitted a steam engine of his own invention into a ferry-boat of his own construction, and for a whole summer this creation of an uneducated genius had been seen by the people of Philadelphia moving steadily against wind and tide; but money gave out, the experiment was unsatisfactory, and Fitch wandered to the banks of the Ohio, where opium helped him end his life in an obscure Kentucky inn, while his steamboat rotted on the shores of the Delaware. Then John Stevens of Hoboken began a series of experiments in 1791, trying elliptical paddles, smoke-jack wheels, and other ingenious contrivances, which soon found the oblivion of Fitch's inventions. Subsequently Rumsey, another ingenious American, sought with no better success to drive a boat by expelling water from the stern. When it was announced that the great Chancellor also had a scheme, it is not surprising, perhaps, that the wags of the Assembly ridiculed the project as idle and whimsical. "Imagine a boat," said one, "trying to propel itself by squirting water through its stern." Another spoke of it as "an application of the skunk principle." Ezra L'Hommedieu, then a state senator, declared that Livingston's "steamboat bill" was a standing subject of ridicule throughout the entire session.

But there were others than legislators who made sport of these apparently visionary projects to settle the value of steam as a locomotive power. Benjamin H. Latrobe, the most eminent engineer in America, did not hesitate to overwhelm such inventions with objections that, in his opinion, could never be overcome. "There are indeed general objections to the use of the steam engine for impelling boats," he wrote, in 1803, "from which no particular mode of application can be free. These are, first, the weight of the engine and of the fuel; second, the large space it occupies; third, the tendency of its action to rack the vessel and render it leaky; fourth, the expense of maintenance; fifth, the irregularity of its motion and the motion of the water in the boiler and cistern, and of the fuel-vessel in rough water; sixth, the difficulty arising from the liability of the paddles or oars to break, if light, and from the weight, if made strong. Perhaps some of the objections against it may be obviated. That founded on the expense and weight of the fuel may not for some years exist in the Mississippi, where there is a redundance of wood on the banks; but the cutting and loading will be almost as great an evil."[80]

[Footnote 80: Rep. to the Am. Philosophical Society, Phila., May, 1803. Within four years the steamboat was running. Latrobe was architect of the Capitol at Washington, which he also rebuilt after the British burned it in 1814.]

Mitchill, however, would not be suppressed by the fun-making legislators or the reasoning of a conservative engineer. "I had to encounter all their jokes and the whole of their logic," he wrote a friend. His bill finally became a law, and Livingston, with the help of the Doctor, placed a horizontal wheel in a well in the bottom and centre of a boat, which propelled the water through an aperture in the stern. The small engine, however, having an eighteen-inch cylinder and three feet stroke, could obtain a speed of only three miles an hour, and finding that the loss of power did not compensate for the encumbrance of external wheels and the action of the waves, which he hoped to escape, Livingston relinquished the plan. Four years later, however, the Chancellor's money and Robert Fulton's genius were to enrich the world with a discovery that has immortalised Fulton and placed Livingston's name among the patrons of the greatest inventors.



CHAPTER VIII

OVERTHROW OF THE FEDERALISTS

1798-1800

It is difficult to select a more popular or satisfactory administration than was Jay's first three years as governor. Opposition growing out of his famous treaty had entirely subsided, salutary changes in laws comforted the people, and with Hamilton's financial system, then thoroughly understood and appreciated, came unprecedented good times. To all appearances, therefore, Jay's re-election in 1798 seemed assured by an increased majority, and the announcement that Chancellor Livingston was a voluntary rival proved something of a political shock.[81] For many years the relations between Jay and Livingston were intimate. They had been partners in the law, associates in the Council of Revision, colleagues in Congress, co-workers in the formation of a state constitution, and companions in the Poughkeepsie convention. Jay had succeeded Livingston in 1784 as secretary of foreign affairs under the Confederation, and while the charming Mrs. Jay was giving her now historic dinners and suppers at 133 Broadway, her cousin, Robert R. Livingston, of No. 3 Broadway, was among her most distinguished guests. In her home Livingston made those arrangements with Hamilton and Jay, the Morrises and the Schuylers, that resulted in the overthrow of Governor Clinton and his supporters in the convention which ratified the Federal Constitution.

[Footnote 81: William Jay, Life of John Jay, Vol. 1, p. 400.]

But after Washington's inauguration, and Jay's appointment as chief justice of the United States Supreme Court, the Chancellor had been as intense, if not as violent an opponent of Federalism as Brockholst Livingston. In their criticism of Jay's treaty these two cousins had been especially bitter. The Chancellor attacked it as "Cato," Brockholst as "Decius;" the one spoke against it on the platform with Aaron Burr, the other voluntarily joined the mob—if he did not actually throw the stone—that wounded Hamilton; while the Chancellor saw a copy of the treaty slowly destroyed at Bowling Green, Brockholst coolly witnessed its distinguished author burned in effigy "in the Fields." Relationship did not spare John Jay. Cousin and brother-in-law had the "love frenzy for France," which finally culminated in celebrating the ninth anniversary of the treaty of alliance between France and America, at which Brockholst became proudly eloquent, and the Chancellor most happy in the felicity of an historic toast: "May the present coolness between France and America produce, like the quarrels of lovers, a renewal of love."

Chancellor Livingston was now in the fifty-first year of his age, tall and handsome, with an abundance of hair already turning gray, which fell in ringlets over a square high forehead, lending a certain dignity that made him appear as great in private life as he was when gowned and throned in his important office.[82] In the estimation of his contemporaries he was one of the most gifted men of his time, and the judgment of a later age has not reversed their decision. He added learning to great natural ability, and brilliancy to profound thought; and although so deaf as to make communication with him difficult, he nearly concealed the defect by his remarkable eloquence and conversational gifts. Benjamin Franklin called him "the Cicero of America." His love for the beautiful attracted Edmund Burke. It is doubtful if he had a superior in the State in the knowledge of history and the classics, and in the study of science Samuel L. Mitchill alone stood above him. He lacked the creative genius of Hamilton, the prescient gifts of Jay, and the skill of Burr to marshal men for selfish purposes, but he was at home in debate with the ablest men of his time, a master of sarcasm, of trenchant wit, and of felicitous rhetoric.

[Footnote 82: "The tall and graceful figure of Chancellor Livingston, and his polished wit and classical taste, contributed not a little to deepen the impression resulting from the ingenuity of his argument, the vivacity of his imagination, and the dignity of his station."—Chancellor Kent's address before The Law Association of New York, October 21, 1836. George Shea, Life of Alexander Hamilton, Appendix.]

Livingston's candidacy for governor was clearly a dash for the Presidency. He reasoned, as every ambitious New York statesman has reasoned from that day to this, that if he could carry the State in an off year, he would be needed in a presidential year. This reasoning reduces the governorship to a sort of spring-board from which to vault into the White House, and, although only one man in a century has performed the feat, it has always figured as a popular and potent factor in the settlement of political nominations. George Clinton thought promotion would come to him, and Hamilton inspired Jay with a similar notion, although it is doubtful if the people ever seriously considered the candidacy of either; but Livingston, sanguine of better treatment, was willing voluntarily to withdraw from the professional path along which he had moved to great distinction, staking more than he had a right to stake on success. In his reckoning, as the sequel showed, he miscalculated the popularity of Jay as much as Hamilton did that of George Clinton in 1789.

The Chancellor undoubtedly believed the tide of Federalism, which had been steadily rising for six years, was about to ebb. There were sporadic indications of it. Perhaps Livingston thought it had already turned, since Republicans had recently won several significant elections. Two years before DeWitt Clinton and his associates had suffered defeat in a city which now returned four assemblymen and one senator with an average Republican majority of more than one thousand. This indicated that the constant talk of monarchical tendencies, of Hamilton's centralising measures, and of the court customs introduced by Washington and followed by Adams, was beginning to influence the timid into voting with Republicans.

But counteracting influences were also at work, which Livingston, in his zeal for political honours, possibly did not observe. New England Federalists, attracted by the fertile valleys of the Hudson and the Mohawk, had filled the western district, and were now holding it faithful to the party of Jay and Hamilton. Just at this time, too, Federalists were bound to be strengthened by the insulting treatment of American envoys sent to France to restore friendly intercourse between the two republics. President Adams' message, based upon their correspondence, asserted that nothing could be accomplished "on terms compatible with the safety, honour, and essential interests of the United States," and advised that immediate steps be taken for the national defence. What the President had withheld for prudential reasons, the public did not know; but it knew that the Cabinet favoured an immediate declaration of war, and that the friends of the Administration in Congress were preparing for such an event. This of itself should have taken Livingston out of the gubernatorial contest; for if war were declared before the April election, the result would assuredly be as disastrous to him as the publication of Jay's treaty in April, 1795, would have been hurtful to the Federalists. But Chancellor Livingston, following the belief of his party that France did not intend to go to war with America, accepted what he had been seeking for months, and entered the campaign with high hopes.