Jay had intended retiring from public life at the close of his first term as governor.[83] For a quarter of a century he had been looking forward to a release from the cares of office, and to the quiet of his country home in Westchester; but "the indignities which France was at that time heaping upon his country," says William Jay, his son and biographer, "and the probability that they would soon lead to war, forbade him to consult his personal gratification."[84] On the 6th of March, therefore, he accepted renomination on a ticket with Stephen Van Rensselaer for lieutenant-governor.

[Footnote 83: William Jay, Life of John Jay, Vol. 1, p. 400.]

[Footnote 84: Ibid.]

It is significant that the anti-Federalists failed to nominate a lieutenant-governor on the ticket with Livingston. Stephen Van Rensselaer was a Federalist of the old school, a brother-in-law of Hamilton, and a vigorous supporter of his party. It is difficult to accept the theory that none of his opponents wanted the place; it is easier to believe that under existing conditions no one of sufficient prominence cared to make the race, especially after President Adams had published the correspondence of the American envoys, disclosing Talleyrand's demand for $240,000 as a gift and $6,000,000 as a loan, with the threat that in the event of failure to comply, "steps will be taken immediately to ravage the coast of the United States by French frigates from St. Domingo." The display of such despicable greed, coupled with the menace, acted very much as the fire of a file of British soldiers did in Boston in 1770, and sent the indignant and eloquent reply of Charles C. Pinckney, then minister to France, ringing throughout the country—"Millions for defence, but not a cent for tribute." Within four weeks Congress authorised the establishment of a navy department, the construction of ten war vessels, the recapture of American ships unlawfully seized, the purchase of cannon, arms, and military stores, and the raising of a provisional army of ten thousand, with the acceptance of militia volunteers. The French tri-colour gave place to the black cockade, a symbol of patriotism in Revolutionary days, and "Hail Columbia," then first published and set to the "President's March," was sung to the wildest delight of American audiences in theatres and churches.

In the midst of this excitement occurred the election for governor. The outcome was a decided change, sending Jay's majority up to 2380.[85] It is not easy to estimate how much of this result was influenced by the rising war cloud, and how much is to be credited to the individuality of the candidates. Both probably entered into the equation. But the fact that Jay carried legislative districts in which Republicans sent DeWitt Clinton and Ambrose Spencer to the Senate, would indicate that confidence in Jay, if not dislike of Livingston, had been the principal factor in this sweeping victory. "The result of this election terminated, as was foreseen," wrote William P. Van Ness, four years later, "in the defeat and mortification of Mr. Livingston, and confirmed the conviction of the party, that the people had no confidence in his political integrity, and had been disgusted by his unwarrantable expectations. His want of popularity was so well known that nothing could have induced this inexpedient measure, but a desire to show the futility of his pretensions, and thus in future avoid his hitherto unceasing importunities."[86]

[Footnote 85: John Jay, 16,012; Robert Livingston, 13,632. Civil List, State of New York, (1887), p. 1166.]

[Footnote 86: William P. Van Ness, Examination of Charges against Aaron Burr, p. 12.]

Livingston's search for distinction in the political field seems to have resulted in unhappiness. The distinguished ability displayed as chancellor followed him to the end, but the joy of public life vanished when he entered the domain of partisan politics. Had he possessed those qualities of leadership that bind party and friends by ties of unflinching services, he might have reaped the reward his ambition so ardently craved; but his peculiar temper unfitted him for such a career. Jealous, fretful, sensitive, and suspicious, he was as restless as his eloquence was dazzling, and, although generous to the poor, his political methods savoured of selfishness, making enemies, divorcing friends, and darkening his pathway with gathering clouds.

The story of John Jay's second term is not all a record of success. Strenuous statesmen, catching the contagion of excitement growing out of the war news from France, formed themselves into clubs, made eloquent addresses, and cheered John Adams and his readiness to fight rather than pay tribute, while the Legislature, in extra session, responded to Jay's patriotic appeal by unanimously pledging the President the support of the State, and making appropriations for the repair of fortifications and the purchase of munitions of war. From all indications, the Federalists seemed certain to continue in power for the next decade, since the more their opponents sympathised with the French, the stronger became the sentiment against them. If ever there was a period in the history of the United States when the opposite party should have been encouraged to talk, and to talk loudly and saucily, it was in the summer of 1798, when the American people had waked up to the insulting treatment accorded their envoys in France; but the Federalist leaders, horrified by the bloody record of the French Revolution, seemed to cultivate an increasing distrust of the common people, whom they now sought to repress by the historic measures known as the Naturalisation Act of June 18, 1798, the Alien Act of June 25, and the Sedition Act of July 14.

The briefest recital of the purpose of these laws is sufficient to prove the folly of the administration that fathered them, and when one considers the possible lengths to which an official, representing the President, might go if instigated by private or party revenge, Edward Livingston's declaration that they "would have disgraced the age of Gothic barbarity" does not seem too strong.[87] Under the Alien Act persons not citizens of the United States could be summarily banished at the sole discretion of the President, without guilt or even accusation, thus jeopardising the liberty and business of the most peaceable and well-disposed foreigner. Under the Act of Sedition a citizen could be dragged from his bed at night and taken hundreds of miles from home to be tried for circulating a petition asking that these laws be repealed. The intended effect was to weed out the foreign-born and crush political opponents, and, the better to accomplish this purpose, the Alien Act set aside trial by jury, and the Sedition Act transferred prosecutions from state courts to federal tribunals.

[Footnote 87: "Let us not establish a tyranny," Hamilton wrote Oliver Wolcott.—Works of, Vol. 8, p. 491. "Let us not be cruel or violent."—Ibid., 490. He thought the Alien Law deficient in guarantees of personal liberty.—Ibid., 5, 26.]

Governor Jay approved these extreme measures because of alleged secret combinations in the interest of the French; and, although no proof of their existence appeared except in the unsupported statements of the press, he submitted to the Legislature, in January, 1799, several amendments to the Federal Constitution, proposed by Massachusetts, increasing the disability of foreigners, and otherwise limiting their rights to citizenship. The Legislature, still strongly Federal in both its branches, did not take kindly to the amendments, and the Assembly rejected them by the surprising vote of sixty-two to thirty-eight. Then came up the famous Kentucky and Virginia resolutions. The Virginia resolves, drafted by Madison and passed by the Virginia Legislature, pronounced the Alien and Sedition laws "palpable and alarming infractions of the Constitution;" the Kentucky resolutions, drafted by Jefferson, declared each act to be "not law, but altogether void and of no force." This was nullification, and the States north of the Potomac hastened to disavow any such doctrine, although the vote in the New York Assembly came perilously near indorsing it.

The discussion of these measures gave opportunity for the public opening of a great career in New York legislation—a career that was to continue into the years made memorable by Martin Van Buren and William L. Marcy. The record of New York party politics for forty years is a record of long and brilliant contests in which Erastus Root, if not a recognised party chieftain, was one of the ablest lieutenants that marshalled on the field of combat. He was a man of gigantic frame, scholarly and much given to letters, and, although somewhat uncouth in manner and rough in speech, his forceful logic, coupled with keen wit and biting sarcasm, made him a dreaded opponent and a welcomed ally. He resembled Hamilton in his independence, relying less upon organisation and more upon the strength of his personality, yet shrewdly holding close relations with those whose careful management and adroit manipulation of the spoils kept men in line whatever the policy it seemed expedient to adopt. For eleven years he served in the Assembly, and thrice became speaker; for eight years he served in the Senate, and twice became its president; for twelve years he served in the lower house of Congress, and once became lieutenant-governor. Wherever he served, he was recognised as a master, not always consistent, but always earnest, eloquent, and popular, fighting relentlessly and tirelessly, and compelling respect even when unsuccessful.

Just now Root was an ardent admirer of Aaron Burr and a bitter opponent of Alexander Hamilton. He was only twenty-six years old. During the contest over the Federal Constitution he was a leader in boyish sports at his Connecticut home, thinking more of the next wrestling match and the girl he should escort from the lyceum than of the character of the constitution under which he should live; but he came to the Assembly in 1798 a staunch supporter of republicanism, believing that Federalists should give place to men inclined to trust the people with larger power, and in this spirit he led the debate against the Alien and Sedition laws with such brilliancy that he leaped into prominence at a single bound. Freedom and fearlessness characterised the work of this young orator, singling him out as the people's champion, and giving him the confidence of five thousand "Wild Irishmen," as Otis called them, who had sought America as an asylum for the oppressed of all nations. Unrestrained by precedent and unruled by fear for the future, he spoke with confidence to a people whom he delighted with the breadth and liberality of his views, lifting them onto heights from which they had never before surveyed their political rights.

In the debate in the Assembly on the indorsement of the Kentucky resolutions Root maintained with great force the right of the people's representatives in the Legislature to express an opinion upon an act of Congress, however solemn, and he ridiculed the argument that questions limited to the judiciary were beyond the jurisdiction of any other body of men to criticise and condemn. This touched a popular chord, and if the mere expression of an opinion by the Assembly had been the real question at issue, young Root might have carried his point as he did the fight against the amendments proposed by Massachusetts. But there was one question Root did not successfully meet. Although Jefferson's eighth and ninth resolutions—declaring that whenever the general government assumed powers not delegated, "a nullification of the act is the rightful remedy" of every State—had been stricken out, the dangerous doctrine was still present in the preamble, making it apparent to the friends of the Constitution that the promulgation of such a monstrous heresy would be worse than the acts sought to be annulled. It is not clear that Root's understanding of these resolutions went so far; for the question discussed by him concerned only the right of the Legislature to express an opinion respecting the wisdom or unwisdom of an act of Congress. Nor does it appear that he favoured what afterward became known as "nullification;" for it is certain that when, thirty-four years later, the doctrine came up again under John C. Calhoun's leadership, Erastus Root, then in Congress, struck at it as he would at the head of a viper, becoming the fearless expounder of principles which civil war permanently established.

While young Root was leading the debate in the Assembly, Ambrose Spencer led it in the Senate. Spencer's apostacy produced a profound sensation in political circles. He had given no intimation of a change of political principles. Although still a young man, barely thirty-three, he had ranked among the foremost leaders of the Federalist party, having been honoured as an assistant attorney-general, a state senator, a member of the Council of Appointment, a friend of Hamilton, and the confidential adviser of Jay. The latter's heart might well sink within him to be abandoned by such a colleague at a time when the stability of the Union was insidiously attacked; nor ought Spencer to have been surprised that public rumour immediately set to work to find some reason for his change less simple and less honest, perhaps, than a dislike of the Federalist policy. Various causes have been given for his mysterious behaviour. Some thought him eager for a high mark of presidential favour, possibly a mission abroad, which was not warmly advocated by Hamilton; others believed that the bitter quarrel between Adams and Hamilton influenced him to desert a sinking party; but the rumour generally accepted by the Federalists ascribed it to his failure to become state comptroller in place of Samuel Jones, an office which he sought. It was recalled that shortly after Jones' appointment, Spencer raised the question, with some show of bitterness, that Jones' seat in the Senate should be declared vacant.

Spencer denied the charges with expletives and with emphasis, treating the accusations as a calumny, and insisting that his change of principles occurred in the spring of 1798 before his re-election as senator. This antedated the alien and sedition measures, but not the appointment of Samuel Jones, making his conversion contemporary with the candidacy for governor of Chancellor Livingston, to whom he was related. It is not unlikely that he shared Livingston's confidence in an election and thought it a good time to join the party of his relative; but whether his change was a matter of principle, of self-interest, or of resentment, it bitterly stung the Federalists, who did not cease to assail him as a turncoat for the flesh-pots.[88]

[Footnote 88: "Ambrose Spencer's politics were inconsistent enough to destroy the good name of any man in New England; but he became a chief-justice of ability and integrity."—Henry Adams, History of the United States, Vol. 1, p. 112.]

The debut of the brilliant Root and the St. Paul-like conversion of Ambrose Spencer were not, however, needed to overthrow a party responsible for the famous alien and sedition laws. No one has ever yet successfully defended this hasty, ill-considered legislation, nor has any one ever admitted responsibility for it, except President Adams who approved it, and who, up to the last moment of his long life, contended that it was "constitutional and salutary, if not necessary." President Adams had, indeed, refrained from using the power so lavishly given him; but rash subordinates listened to the dictate of unwise party leaders. The ridiculous character of these prosecutions is illustrated by a fine of one hundred dollars because one defendant wished that the wadding used in a salute to John Adams had lodged in the ample part of the President's trousers.

But the sedition law had a more serious enemy than rash subordinates. John Armstrong, author of the celebrated "Newburgh Letters," and until recently a Federalist, wrote a vitriolic petition for its repeal, which Jedediah Peck circulated for signatures. This incited the indiscreet and excitable Judge Cooper, father of the distinguished novelist, to begin a prosecution; and upon his complaint, the United States marshal, armed with a bench-warrant, carried off Peck to New York City for trial. It is two hundred miles from Cooperstown to the mouth of the Hudson, and in the spring of 1800 the marshal and his prisoner were five days on the way. The newspapers reported Peck as "taken from his bed at midnight, manacled, and dragged from his home," because he dared ask his neighbours to petition Congress to repeal an offensive law. "The rule of George Third," declared the press, "was gracious and loving compared to such tyranny." In the wildest delirium of revolutionary days, when patriots were refusing to drink tea, and feeding it to the fishes, New York had not been more deeply stirred than now. "A hundred missionaries in the cause of democracy, stationed between New York and Cooperstown," says Hammond, the historian, "could not have done so much for the Republican cause as this journey of Jedediah Peck from Otsego to the capital of the State. It was nothing less than the public exhibition of a suffering martyr for the freedom of speech and the press, and for the right of petition."[89]

[Footnote 89: Jabez D. Hammond, Political History of New York, Vol. 1, p. 132.]

This was the political condition when Aaron Burr, in the spring of 1800, undertook to gain twelve electoral votes for the Republicans by carrying the Legislature of New York. It required seventy electoral votes to choose a President, and outside of New York the anti-Federalists could count sixty-one. The capture of this State, therefore, would give them a safe majority. Without advertising his purposes, Burr introduced the sly methods that characterised his former campaigns, beginning with the selection of a ticket that would commend itself to all, and ending with an organisation that would do credit to the management of the later-day chiefs of Tammany. To avoid the already growing rivalry between the Clinton and Livingston factions, George Clinton and Brockholst Livingston headed the ticket, followed by Horatio Gates of Revolutionary fame, John Broome, soon to be lieutenant-governor, Samuel Osgood, for two years Washington's postmaster-general, John Swartout, already known for his vigorous record in the Assembly, and others equally acceptable. Burr himself stood for the county of Orange. For the first time in the history of political campaigning, too, local managers prepared lists of voters, canvassed wards by streets, held meetings throughout the city, and introduced other methods of organisation common enough nowadays, but decidedly novel then.

Hamilton was alive to the importance of the April election, but scarcely responsible for the critical character of the situation. He had not approved the alien and sedition measures, nor did he commit himself to the persecuting policy sanctioned by most Federal leaders, and although he favoured suppressing newspaper libels against the government, he was himself alien-born, and of a mind too broad not to understand the danger of arousing foreign-born citizens against his party on lines of national sentiment. "If we make no false step," he wrote Oliver Wolcott, "we shall be essentially united, but if we push things to extremes, we shall then give to faction body and solidity."[90] It was hasty United States attorneys and indiscreet local politicians rather than the greatest of the Federal leaders, who gave "to faction body and solidity."

[Footnote 90: Hamilton's Works (Lodge), Vol. 8, p. 491.]

Hamilton threw himself with energy into the desperate fight. For four days, from April 29 to May 2, while the polls were open, he visited every voting precinct, appealing to the public in his wonderfully persuasive and captivating manner. On several occasions Burr and Hamilton met, and it was afterward recalled that courtesy characterised the conduct of each toward the other, one champion waiting while the other took his turn. Rarely if ever in the history of the country have two men of such ability and astuteness participated in a local canvass. The rivalry was all the more exciting because it was a rivalry of styles as well as of capacities. Burr was smooth, polished, concise, never diffuse or declamatory, always serious and impressive. If we may accept contemporary judgment, he was a good speaker whom everybody was curious to hear, and from whom no one turned away in disappointment. On the other hand, Hamilton was an acknowledged orator, diffuse, ornate, full of metaphor, with flashes of poetical genius, revelling in exuberant strength, and endowed with a gift of argumentative eloquence which appealed to the intellect and the feelings at the same time. Erastus Root says Hamilton's words were so well chosen, and his sentences so finely formed into a swelling current, that the hearer would be captivated if not convinced, while Burr's arguments were generally methodised and compact. To this Root added a judgment, after thirty years' experience in public life at Washington and in New York, that "they were much the greatest men in the State, and perhaps the greatest men in the United States."

When the polls closed the Republicans had carried the Legislature by twenty-two majority on joint ballot. This secured to them the election of the needed twelve presidential electors. To recover their loss the Federalists now clamoured for a change in the law transferring the election of presidential electors from the Legislature to districts created for that purpose. Such an amendment would give the Federalists six of the twelve electors.

This was Hamilton's plan. In an earnest plea he urged Jay to convene the Legislature in extraordinary session for this purpose. "The anti-Federal party," he wrote to the Governor, "is a composition indeed of very incongruous materials, but all tending to mischief; some of them to the overthrow of the government by stripping it of its due energies; others of them by revolutionising it after the manner of Bonaparte. The government must not be confided to the custody of its enemies, and, although the measure proposed is open to objection, a popular government cannot stand if one party calls to its aid all the resources which vice can give, and the other, however pressing the emergency, feels itself obliged to confine itself within the ordinary forms of delicacy and decorum."[91]

[Footnote 91: Hamilton's Works (Lodge), Vol. 8, p. 549.]

Jay's response to Hamilton's proposal is not of record, but some time afterward the great Federalist's letter was found carefully filed among the papers in the public archives, bearing an indorsement in the Governor's handwriting: "This is a measure for party purposes which I think it would not become me to adopt."

The sincerity of Jay's action has been doubted. He was about to retire from public life, it was said, with no political future before him, and with that courage which inspires a man under such circumstances, he declined to act. But Jay's treatment of Hamilton's suggestion stands out conspicuously as his best judgment at the most trying moment in a long and eventful life. Jay was a stalwart Federalist. He had supported Washington and Hamilton in the making of a federal constitution; he had approved the alien and sedition laws; he had favourably reported to the Legislature the proposed amendments of Massachusetts, limiting service in Congress to native-born citizens; he regarded the advent of Jefferson and his ideas with as much alarm as Hamilton, and he knew as well as Hamilton that the adoption of the district plan of choosing electors would probably defeat the Virginian; but to call an extra session of the Legislature for the purpose indicated by Hamilton, would defeat the expressed will of the people as much as the action of the state canvassers defeated it in 1792. Should he follow such a precedent and save his party, perhaps his country, from the dire ills so vividly portrayed by Hamilton? The responsibility was upon him, not upon Hamilton, and he wisely refused to do what the people of the State had so generally and properly condemned in the canvassers.

Hamilton's proposition naturally provoked the indignation of his opponents, and later writers have used it as a text for unlimited vituperation; but if one may judge from what happened and continued to happen during the next three decades, not a governor who followed Jay in those eventful years would have declined under similar circumstances to concur in Hamilton's suggestion. It was undoubtedly a desperate proposal, but it was squarely in line with the practice of party leaders of that day. George Clinton countenanced, if he did not absolutely advise, the deliberate disfranchisement of hundreds of voters in 1792 that he might continue governor. A few years later, in 1816, methods quite as disreputable and unscrupulous were practised, that Republicans might continue to control the Council of Appointment. Hamilton's suggestion involved no concealment, as in the case of the Manhattan Bank, which Jay approved; no violation of law, as in the Otsego election case, which Clinton approved; no deliberate fraud, as in the Allen-Fellows case, which Tompkins approved. All this does not lessen the wrong involved in Hamilton's proposed violation of moral ethics, but it places the suggestion in the environment to which it properly belongs, making it appear no worse if no better than the political practices of that day.



CHAPTER IX

MISTAKES OF HAMILTON AND BURR

1800

The ten months following the Republican triumph in New York on May 2, 1800, were fateful ones for Hamilton and Burr. It is not easy to suggest the greater sufferer, Burr with his victory, or Hamilton with his defeat. Hamilton's bold expedients began at once; Burr's desperate schemes waited until after the election in November; but when the conflict was over, the political influence of each had ebbed like water in a bay after a tidal wave. Although Jay's refusal to reconvene the old Legislature in extra session surprised Hamilton as much as the Republican victory itself, the great Federalist did not despair. He still thought it possible to throw the election of President into the House of Representatives, and to that end he wrote his friends to give equal support to John Adams and Charles C. Pinckney, the candidates of the Federal party. "This is the only thing," he said, "that can possibly save us from the fangs of Jefferson."[92]

[Footnote 92: Hamilton's Works (Lodge), Vol. 8, p. 549. Letter to Theo. Sedgwick.]

But the relations between Adams and Hamilton were now to break. For twelve years Hamilton had kept Adams angry. He began in 1789 with the inconsiderate and needless scheme of scattering the electoral votes of Federalists for second place, lest Washington fail of the highest number, and thus reduced Adams' vote to thirty-four, while Washington received sixty-nine. In 1796 he advised similar tactics, in order that Thomas Pinckney might get first place. For the past three years the President had endured the mortification of having Hamilton control his cabinet advisers. After the loss of New York, however, Adams turned elsewhere for strength, appointing John Marshall secretary of state in place of Timothy Pickering, and Samuel Dexter secretary of war in place of James McHenry. The mutual dislike of Hamilton and Adams had become so intensified that the slightest provocation on the part of either would make any form of political reconciliation impossible, and Adams' reconstruction of his Cabinet furnished this provocation. Pickering and McHenry were Hamilton's best supporters. They had done more to help him and to embarrass Adams, and their dismissal, because of the loss of New York, made Hamilton thirsty for revenge. Pickering suggested "a bold and frank exposure of Adams," offering to furnish the facts if Hamilton would put them together, and agreeing to arrange with George Cabot and other ultra Federalists of New England, known as the "Essex Junto," to throw Adams behind Charles C. Pinckney in the electoral vote. Their plan was to start Pinckney as the second Federalist candidate, with the hope that parties would be so divided as to secure his election for President. It was nothing more than the old "double chance" manoeuvres of 1796, when Thomas Pinckney was Hamilton's choice for President; but the iniquity of the scheme was the deception practised upon the voters who desired Adams.

Of course, Adams soon learned of the revival of this old conspiracy, and passionately and hastily opened a raking fire upon the "Essex Junto," calling them a "British faction," with Hamilton as its chief, a designation to which the Republican press had made them peculiarly sensitive. This aroused Hamilton, who, preliminary to a quarrel, addressed the President, asking if he had mentioned the writer as one who belonged to a British faction. Receiving no reply, he again wrote the President, angrily repelling all aspersions of the kind. This the President likewise ignored.

Then Hamilton listened to Timothy Pickering. Fiery as his temper had often proved, and grotesquely obstinate as he had sometimes shown himself, Hamilton's most erratic impulse appears like the coolness of Jay when contrasted with the conduct upon which he now entered. The letter he proposed to write, ostensibly in justification of himself, was apparently intended for private circulation at some future day among Federal leaders, to whom it would furnish reasons why electors should unite in preferring Pinckney. It is known, too, that Hamilton's coolest and ablest advisers opposed such a letter, recalling the congressional caucus agreement, which he had himself advised, to vote fairly for both Adams and Pinckney. Besides, to impair confidence in Adams just at that moment, it was argued, would impair confidence in the Federal party, while at best such a letter could only produce confusion without compensatory results. But between Adams and Jefferson, Hamilton now preferred the latter. "I will never be responsible for him by my direct vote," he wrote in May, 1800, "even though the consequence be the election of Jefferson."[93] Moreover, Hamilton was accustomed to give, not to receive orders. Had Washington lived, Hamilton would doubtless never have written the letter, but now he wrote it, printed it, and in a few days was forced to publish it, since garbled extracts began appearing in the press. Many theories have been advanced as to how it fell into the hands of a public printer, some fanciful, others ridiculous, and none, perhaps, absolutely truthful. The story that Burr unwittingly coaxed a printer's errand boy to give him a copy, is not corroborated by Matthew L. Davis; but, however the publication happened, it was not intended to happen in that way and at that time.

[Footnote 93: Hamilton's Works (Lodge), Vol. 8, p. 552.]

It was an ugly letter, not up to Hamilton's best work. The vindication of himself and the Pinckneys lost itself in the severity of the attack upon Adams, whose career was reviewed from the distant day of an unsound judgment ventured in military affairs during the Revolution, to the latest display of a consuming egotism, vanity, and jealousy as President. In a word, all the quarrels, resentments, and antagonisms which had torn and rent the Federal party for four years, but which, thanks to Washington, had not become generally known, were now, in a moment, officially exposed to the whole country, to the great astonishment of most Federalists, and to the great delight of all Republicans. "If the single purpose had been to defeat the President," said John Adams, "no more propitious moment could have been chosen." Fisher Ames declared that "the question is not how we shall fight, but how we shall fall." In vain did Hamilton journey through New England, struggling to gain votes for Pinckney; in vain did the "Essex Junto" deplore the appearance of a document certain to do their Jacobin opponents great service. The party, already practically defeated by its alien and sedition legislation, and now inflamed with angry feelings, hastened on to the inevitable catastrophe like a boat sucked into the rushing waters of Niagara, while the party of Jefferson, united in principle, and encouraged by the divisions of their adversaries, marched on to easy victory. When the result was known, Jefferson and Burr had each seventy-three electoral votes, Adams sixty-five, Pinckney sixty-four, and Jay one.

It is difficult to realise the arguments which persuaded Hamilton to follow the suggestion of the fallen minister. Hot-tempered and impatient of restraint as he was, he knew Adams' attack had only paid him in kind. Nor is mitigation of Hamilton's conduct found in the statement, probably true, that the party could not in any case have carried the election. The great mass of Federalists believed, as Hamilton wrote Jay when asking an extra session of the Legislature, that the defeat of Jefferson was "the only means to save the nation from more disasters," and they naturally looked to him to accomplish that defeat. Of all men that ever led a political party, therefore, it was Hamilton's duty to sink personal antipathy, but in this attack upon Adams he seems deliberately to have sinned against the light. This was the judgment of men of his own day, and at the end of a century it is the judgment of men who cherish his teachings and revere his memory.

While Hamilton wrote and worried and wrestled, Aaron Burr rested on the well-earned laurels of victory. It had been a great fight. George Clinton did not take kindly to Thomas Jefferson, and stubbornly resisted allowing the use of his name to aid the Virginian's promotion; Horatio Gates and other prominent citizens who had left the political arena years before, if they could be said ever to have entered it, were also indisposed to head a movement that seemed to them certain to end in rout and confusion; but Burr held on until scruples disappeared, and their names headed a winning ticket. It was the first ray of light to break the Republican gloom, and when, six months later, the Empire State declared for Jefferson and Burr it added to the halo already surrounding the grandson of Jonathan Edwards.

It was known that Jefferson and Burr had run very evenly, and by the middle of December, 1800, it became rumoured that their vote was a tie. "If such should be the result," Burr wrote Samuel Smith, a Republican congressman from Maryland, "every man who knows me ought to know that I would utterly disclaim all competition. Be assured that the Federalist party can entertain no wish for such an exchange. As to my friends, they would dishonour my views and insult my feelings by a suspicion that I would submit to be instrumental in counteracting the wishes and the expectations of the people of the United States. And I now constitute you my proxy to declare these sentiments if the occasion should require."[94] At the time this letter was much applauded at public dinners and other Republican gatherings as proof of Burr's respect for the will of the people.

[Footnote 94: James Parton, Life of Aaron Burr, 267.]

But the Federalists had plans of their own. "To elect Burr would be to cover the opposition with chagrin, and to sow among them the seeds of a morbid division," wrote Harrison Gray Otis of Massachusetts.[95] Gradually this sentiment took possession of New England and the Middle States, until it seemed to be the prevailing opinion of the Federal party. "Some, indeed most of our eastern friends are warm in support of Burr," said Gouverneur Morris, which James A. Bayard of Delaware corroborated in a note to Hamilton. "There appears to be a strong inclination in a majority of the Federal party to support Burr," he said.[96] "The current has already acquired considerable force, and is manifestly increasing." John Rutledge, governor of South Carolina, thought "his promotion will be prodigiously afflicting to the Virginia faction, and must disjoint the party. If Mr. B.'s Presidency be productive of evils, it will be very easy for us to get rid of him. Opposed by the Virginia party, it will be his interest to conciliate the Federalists."[97] Theodore Sedgwick, speaker of the House of Representatives, likewise declared that "most of the Federalists are for Burr. It is very evident that the Jacobins dread this appointment more even than that of General Pinckney. If he be elected by the Federalists against the hearty opposition of the Jacobins, the wounds mutually given and received will probably be incurable. Each will have committed the unpardonable sin. Burr must depend on good men for his support, and that support he cannot receive, but by a conformity to their views. At first, I confess, I was strongly disposed to give Jefferson the preference, but the more I have reflected, the more I have inclined to the other."[98]

[Footnote 95: Ibid., 267.]

[Footnote 96: James Parton, Life of Aaron Burr, 270.]

[Footnote 97: Ibid., 275.]

[Footnote 98: Ibid., 275.]

To such a course Hamilton was bitterly opposed, not only because he distrusted Burr more than he did Jefferson, but because the Federalists should leave the responsibility of a selection to the Republicans and thus in nowise be answerable for the consequences. "If the anti-Federalists who prevailed in the election," he wrote Bayard of Delaware, "are left to take their own man, they remain responsible, and the Federalists remain free, united, and without stain, in a situation to resist with effect pernicious measures. If the Federalists substitute Burr, they adopt him, and become answerable for him. Whatever may be the theory of the case, abroad and at home, Mr. Burr must become, in fact, the man of our party; and if he acts ill, we must share in the blame and disgrace. By adopting him, we do all we can to reconcile the minds of Federalists to him, and we prepare them for the effectual operation of his acts. He will, doubtless, gain many of them; and the Federalists will become a disorganised and contemptible party. Can there be any serious question between the policy of leaving the anti-Federalists to be answerable for the elevation of an objectionable man, and that of adopting him ourselves, and becoming answerable for a man who, on all hands, is acknowledged to be a complete Catiline? 'Tis enough to state the question to indicate the answer, if reason, not passion, presides in the decision."[99]

[Footnote 99: Hamilton's Works (Lodge), Vol. 8, p. 581.]

Gouverneur Morris, now a United States senator, had already taken a similar position. Bayard of Delaware, who carried the vote of the little State in his pocket, and several other leading Federalists, listened with profound respect; but the great portion of the party, maddened by reverses, eager for revenge, and not yet mindless of Hamilton's campaign indiscretion, was in no temper to follow such prudent advice. As already indicated, the disposition was "to cover the opposition with chagrin," and "to sow among them the seeds of morbid division." Nor did they agree with Hamilton's estimate of Burr, which seemed to them attributable to professional and personal feuds, but maintained that he was a matter-of-fact man, artful and dexterous to accomplish his ends, and without pernicious theories, whose very selfishness was a guard against mischievous foreign predilection, and whose local situation was helpful to his appreciation of the utility of the country's commercial and federal systems, while his elevation to the Presidency would be a mortal stab to the Jacobins, breeding invincible hatred and compelling him to lean on the Federalists, who had nothing to fear from his ambition, since it would be checked by his good sense, or from any scheme of usurpation that he might attempt.

In vain did Hamilton combat these points, insisting that Burr was a man of extreme and irregular ambition, selfish to a degree which even excluded social affection, and decidedly profligate. He admitted that he was far more artful than wise, far more dexterous than able, but held that artfulness and dexterity were objections rather than recommendations, while he thought a systematic statesman should have a theory. "No general principles," he said, "will work much better than erroneous ones."[100] As to foreign predilection, he thought Burr as warm a partisan of France as Jefferson, and instead of leaning on good men, whom he knew would never support his bad projects, he would endeavour to disorganise both parties, and from the wreck form a third out of conspirators and other men fitted by character to carry out his schemes of usurpation. As the campaign advanced he became more emphatic, insisting that Burr's election would disgrace the country abroad, and that no agreement with him could be relied upon. "As well think to bind a giant by a cobweb as his ambition by promises."[101]

[Footnote 100: Hamilton's Works (Lodge), Vol. 8, p. 584.]

[Footnote 101: Ibid., 581.]

In the meantime the electoral count, as already anticipated, had thrown the election into the House of Representatives, where it would be decided on the 11th of February, 1801. In the House the Republicans controlled eight States to the Federalists' six, with Maryland and Vermont without a majority of either party. To elect Jefferson, therefore, an additional State must be secured, and to prevent it, if possible, the Federalists, by a party caucus held in January, resolved to support Burr, Bayard and three others, any one of whom could decide the choice for Jefferson, reserving the right to limit the contest to March 4, and thus avoid the risk of general anarchy by a failure to elect.

Very naturally the Republicans became alarmed and ugly. Jefferson wrote Madison of the deplorable tie, suggesting that it had produced great dismay and gloom among Republicans and exultation among Federalists, "who openly declare they will prevent an election."[102] James Gunn, a United States senator from Georgia and a Federalist, advised Hamilton that "the Jacobins are determined to resist the election of Burr at every hazard, and I am persuaded they have taken their ground with a fixed resolution to destroy the government rather than yield their point."[103] Madison thought if the then House of Representatives did not choose Jefferson, the next House would do so, supported as he was by the great body of the people, who would no longer submit "to the degradation of America by attempts to make Burr the President."[104]

[Footnote 102: James Parton, Life of Aaron Burr, 274.]

[Footnote 103: Ibid., 274.]

[Footnote 104: Ibid., 274.]

Not a word came from Burr. Jefferson tried repeatedly to bring him to an explicit understanding without avail. His only published utterance on the subject, save the letter to Samuel Smith, was in a family note of January 15 to his son-in-law, Joseph Allston of South Carolina, in which he spoke of the tie as exciting great speculation and much anxiety, adding, "I believe that all will be well, and that Jefferson will be our President."[105] Five days before this, Speaker Sedgwick informed Hamilton that "Burr has expressed his displeasure at the publication of his letter by Samuel Smith,"[106] which, wrote Bayard on January 7, "is here understood to have proceeded either from a false calculation as to the result of the electoral vote, or was intended as a cover to blind his own party."[107] But there was no danger of Joseph Allston publishing his note, at least not until the fight was over.

[Footnote 105: Ibid., 279.]

[Footnote 106: Ibid., 272.]

[Footnote 107: Ibid., 272.]

Burr's letter to his son-in-law bore date at Albany. Being a member of the Legislature he had gone there early in January, where he not only kept silent but mysteriously aloof, although his lobbyists thronged Washington in such numbers that Senator Morris, on February 14, asked his colleague, John Armstrong, "how it happened that Burr, who is four hundred miles off, has agents here at work with great activity, while Mr. Jefferson, who is on the spot, does nothing?"[108] That these agents understood their mission and were quite as active as Morris represented, was evident by the reports sent from time to time to Hamilton, who remained in New York. "Some who pretend to know his views," wrote Morris, "think he will bargain with the Federalists."[109] Bayard was also approached. "Persons friendly to Mr. Burr state distinctly that he is willing to consider the Federalists as his friends, and to accept the office of President as their gift."[110] As early as January 10 Governor Rutledge wrote that "we are assured by a gentleman who lately had some conversation with Mr. Burr on this subject that he is disposed to maintain and expand our systems."[111]

[Footnote 108: Jefferson's Diary, Feb. 14, 1801.]

[Footnote 109: James Parton, Life of Aaron Burr, p. 272.]

[Footnote 110: Ibid., 272.]

[Footnote 111: Ibid., 275.]

As the campaign proceeded it became evident to Burr that Republicans were needed as well as Federalists, and a bright young man, William P. Van Ness, who had accompanied Burr to Albany as a favourite companion, wrote Edward Livingston, the brilliant New York congressman, that "it is the sense of the Republicans in this State that, after some trials in the House, Mr. Jefferson should be given up for Mr. Burr."[112] This was wholly conjectural, and Burr and his young friend knew it; but it was a part of the game, since Burr, so Hamilton wrote Morris, "perfectly understands himself with Edward Livingston, who will be his agent at the seat of government," adding that Burr had volunteered the further information "that the Federalists might proceed in the certainty that, upon a second ballot New York and Tennessee would join him."[113] There is no doubt Burr believed then, and for some time afterward, that Edward Livingston was his friend, but he did not know that Jefferson had offered the secretaryship of the navy to Edward's brother, the powerful Chancellor,[114] or that the Chancellor's young brother was filling Jefferson's diary with the doings and sayings of those who were interested in Burr's election. Edward got a United States attorneyship for his treachery, and soon after became a defaulter for thirty thousand dollars under circumstances of culpable carelessness, as the Treasury thought.[115]

[Footnote 112: William P. Van Ness, Examination of Charges against Aaron Burr, p. 61.]

[Footnote 113: Hamilton's Works (Lodge), Vol. 8, p. 586.]

[Footnote 114: Jefferson to Livingston, Feb. 24, 1801; Jefferson's Works, Vol. 4, p. 360.]

[Footnote 115: Henry Adams, History of the United States, Vol. 2, p. 173. Ibid., Vol. 1, p. 113.]

The voting began on February 11. On the first ballot eight States voted for Jefferson and six for Burr, Vermont and Maryland being neutralised by an even party division. In this manner the voting continued for six days, through thirty-five ballots, the House taking recesses to give members rest, caucuses opportunity to meet, and the sick time to be brought in on their beds. Finally, on the thirty-sixth ballot, the Vermont Federalist withdrew, and the four Maryland Federalists, with Bayard of Delaware, put in blanks, giving Jefferson ten States and Burr five.

Burr had played his game with the skill of a master. The tactics that elected him to the United States Senate in 1791 and made him a gubernatorial possibility in 1792 were repeated on a larger scale and shrouded in deeper mystery. He had appeared to disavow any intention of supplanting Jefferson, and yet had played for Federalist and Republican support so cleverly that Jefferson pronounced his conduct "honourable and decisive, and greatly embarrassing" to those who tried to "debauch him from his good faith." In the evening of the inauguration, President and Vice President received together the congratulations of their countrymen at the presidential mansion. At Albany banqueting Republicans drank the health of "Aaron Burr, Vice President of the United States; his uniform and patriotic exertions in favour of Republicanism eclipsed only by his late disinterested conduct."

But when soberer thoughts came the Republican mind was disturbed with the question why Burr, after the Federalists had openly resolved to support him, did not proclaim on the housetop what he had written to Samuel Smith before the tie was known. Gradually the truth began to dawn as men talked and compared notes, and before three months had elapsed Jefferson's estimate of Burr's character corresponded with Hamilton's. It is of record that from 1790 to 1800 Jefferson considered him "for sale," and when the Virginians, after twice refusing to vote for him, finally sustained him for Vice President, they did so repenting their act.[116]

[Footnote 116: Henry Adams, History of the United States, Vol. 1, p. 229. Jefferson's Anas; Works, Vol. 9, p. 207.]

It is not easy to indicate the source of Burr's inherent badness. His father, a clergyman of rare scholarship and culture, became, at the age of thirty-two, the second president of Princeton College, while Jonathan Edwards, his maternal grandfather, whose "Freedom of the Will" made him an intellectual world-force, became its third president; but if one may accept contemporary judgment, Aaron Burr had scarcely one good or great quality of heart. Like Lord Chesterfield, his favourite author, he had intellect without truth or virtue; like Chesterfield, too, he was small in stature and slender.[117] Here, however, the comparison must end if Lord Hervey's description of Chesterfield be accepted, for instead of broad, rough features, and an ugly face, Burr's personal appearance, suggested by the delicately chiselled features in the marble, was the gift of a mother noted for beauty as well as for the inheritance of her father's great intellectuality. Writers never forget the large black eyes, keen and penetrating, so irresistible to gifted and beautiful women. They came from the Edwards side; but from whence came the absence of honour that distinguished this son and grandson of the Princeton presidents, tradition does not inform us.

[Footnote 117: "When the Senate met at ten o'clock on the morning of March 4, 1801, Aaron Burr stood at the desk, and having duly sworn to support the Constitution took his seat in the chair as Vice President. This quiet, gentlemanly and rather dignified figure, hardly taller than Madison, and dressed in much the same manner, impressed with favour all who first met him. An aristocrat imbued in the morality of Lord Chesterfield and Napoleon Bonaparte, Colonel Burr was the chosen head of Northern democracy, idol of the wards of New York City, and aspirant to the highest offices he could reach by means legal or beyond the law; for, as he pleased himself with saying after the manner of the First Consul of the French Republic, 'great souls care little for small morals.'"—Henry Adams, History of the United States, Vol. 1, p. 195.]



CHAPTER X

JOHN JAY AND DeWITT CLINTON

1800

The election that decided the contest for Jefferson, returned DeWitt Clinton to the State Senate, and a Republican majority to the Assembly. As soon as the Legislature met, therefore, Clinton proposed a new Council of Appointment. Federalists shrieked in amazement at such a suggestion, since the existing Council had served little more than half its term. To this Republicans replied, good naturedly, that although party conditions were reversed, arguments remained the same, and reminded them that in 1794, when an anti-Federalist Council had served only a portion of its term, the Federalists compelled an immediate change. Whatever was fair for Federalists then, they argued, could not be unfair for Republicans now. If it was preposterous, as Josiah Ogden Hoffman had asserted, for a Council to serve out its full term in 1794, it was preposterous for the Council of 1800 to serve out its full term; if Schuyler was right that it was a dangerous and unconstitutional usurpation of power for the anti-Federalist Council to continue its sittings, it was a dangerous and unconstitutional usurpation of power for the Federalist Council of 1800 to continue its sittings. Of course Federalists were wrong in 1794, and Republicans were wrong in 1800, but there was as much poetic justice in the situation as a Republican could desire. As soon as the Assembly had organised, therefore, DeWitt Clinton, Ambrose Spencer, Robert Roseboom, and John Sanders became the Council of Appointment. Sanders was a Federalist, but Roseboom was a Republican, whose pliancy and weakness made him the tool of Clinton and Spencer.

DeWitt Clinton had at last come to his own. Until now his life had been uncheckered by important incident and unmarked by political achievement. He had run rapidly through the grammar school of Little Britain, his native town; through the academy at Kingston, the only one then in the State; through Columbia College, which he entered as a junior at fifteen and from which he graduated at the head of his class; and through his law studies with Samuel Jones. In 1789 came an appointment as private secretary to his uncle, George Clinton. When Governor Jay sought the assistance of another in 1795, Clinton resumed the law; but he continued to practise politics for a living, and at last found himself in the Assembly of 1797. He was then twenty-eight, strong, handsome, and well equipped for any struggle. He had devoted his leisure moments to reading, for which he had a passion that lasted him all his lifetime. He was especially fond of scientific studies, and of the active-minded Samuel L. Mitchill, six years his senior, who gave scientific reputation to the whole State.

In spite of his love for science, DeWitt Clinton was a born politician, with all the characteristic incongruities incident to such a life. He had the selfishness of Livingston, the inconsistency of Spencer, the imperiousness of Root, and the ability of a statesman. Unlike most other men of his party, he did not rely wholly upon discipline and organisation, or upon party fealty and courtesy. Hamilton had cherished the hope that Clinton might become a Federalist, not because he was a trimmer, or would seek a party in power simply for the spoils in sight, but because he had the breadth and liberality of enlightened opinions, the prophetic instinct, and the force of character to make things go his way, without drifting into success by a fortunate turn in tide and wind. He was not a mere day-dreamer, a theorist, a philosopher, a scholar, although he possessed the gifts of each. He was, rather, a man of action—self-willed, self-reliant, independent—as ambitious as Burr without his slippery ways, and as determined as Hamilton with all his ability to criticise an opponent. Clinton relied not more upon men than upon measures, and in the end the one thing that made him superior to all his contemporaries of the nineteenth century was a never-failing belief in the possibility of success along lines marked out for his life's work. He had faults and he committed errors. His one great political defect filled him with faults. He would be all or nothing. Attachment to his interests was the one supreme and only test of fitness for favours or friendship, and at one time or another he quarrelled with every friend who sought to retain independence of action.

Just now Clinton was looking with great expectancy into the political future. From defeat in 1796 he had reached the Assembly in 1797, and then passed to the State Senate in 1798; and from defeat in 1799 he passed again into the Senate in 1800. Thus far his record was without blemish. As a lad of eighteen he sided with his uncle in the contest over the Federal Constitution; but once it became the supreme law of the land he gave it early and vigorous support, not even soiling his career by a vote for the Kentucky resolutions. Unlike the Livingstons, he found little to commend in the controversy with Genet and the French, and in Jay's extra session of the Legislature he voted arms and appropriations to sustain the hands of the President and the honour of the flag. But he condemned the trend of Federalism as unwise, unpatriotic, and dangerous to the liberty of the citizen and to the growth of the country; and with equal force he opposed the influence of the French Revolution, maintaining that deeds of violence were unnecessary to startle the public into the knowledge that suffering exists, and that bad laws and bad social conditions result in hunger and misery. If he had been a great orator he would have charmed the conservatives who hated Federalism and dreaded Jacobinism. Like his uncle he spoke forcibly and with clearness, but without grace or eloquence; his writing, though correct in style and sufficiently polished, lacked the simplicity and the happy gift of picturesque phrase which characterised the letters of so many of the public men of that day. Yet he was a noble illustration of what may be accomplished by an indomitable will, backed by a fearless independence and a power to dominate people in spite of antagonism of great and successful rivals.

Clinton was now only at the opening of his great career. Even at this time his contemporaries seem to have made up their minds that he had a great career before him, and when he and Governor Jay met as members of the new Council of Appointment, on February 11, 1801, it was like Greek meeting Greek. If Jay was the mildest mannered man in the State, he was also one of the firmest; and on this occasion he did not hesitate to claim the exclusive right of nomination for office as had Governor Clinton in 1794. Clinton, on the other hand, following the course pursued by Philip Schuyler, boldly and persistently claimed a concurrent right on the part of the senatorial members. The break came when Jay nominated several Federalists for sheriff of Orange County, all of whom were rejected. Then Clinton made a nomination. Instead of putting the question Jay made a further nomination, on which the Council refused to vote. This ended the session. Jay asked for time to consider, and never again convened the Council; but two days later he sent a message to the Assembly, reviewing the situation and asking its advice. He also requested the opinion of the Chancellor and the Supreme Court Judges. The Assembly replied that it was a constitutional question for the Governor and the Council; the Judges declined to express an opinion on the ground that it was extra-judicial. Three weeks later Clinton, Spencer, and Roseboom reported to the Assembly, with some show of bitterness, that they had simply followed the precedent of Egbert Benson's appointment to the Supreme Court in 1794, an appointment, it will be remembered, which was made on the nomination of Philip Schuyler and confirmed, over the protest of Governor Clinton, by a majority of the Council.

Jay's failure to reconvene the Council seemed to gratify Clinton—if, indeed, his action had not been deliberately taken to provoke the Governor into such a course. Appointments made under such conditions could scarcely satisfy an ambitious leader who had friends to reward; and, besides, the election of a new governor in the following month would enable him to appoint a corps of men willing to do the bidding of their new master. On the other hand, Governor Jay closed his official career as he began it. His first address to the Legislature discovered an intention of adhering to the dogmas of civil service, and so far as directly responsible he seems to have maintained the principle of dismissing no one for political reasons.

The closing days of Jay's public life included an act for the gradual abolition of domestic slavery. It cannot be called an important feature of his administration, since Jay was entitled to little credit for bringing it about. Although he had been a friend of emancipation, and as president of an anti-slavery society had characterised slavery as an evil of "criminal dye," his failure to recommend emancipation in his messages emphasises the suggestion that he was governed by the fear of its influence upon his future political career. However this may be, it is certain that he resigned the presidency of the abolition society at the moment of his aroused ambition immediately preceding his nomination for governor in 1792. His son explains that the people of the State did not favour abolition; yet the reform apparently needed only the vigorous assistance of the Governor, for in 1798 a measure similar to the act of 1799 failed in the Assembly only by the casting vote of the chairman in committee of the whole.

One thing, though, may be assumed, that a man so animated by high principles as John Jay must have felt amply justified in taking the course he did. Of all distinguished New Yorkers in the formative period of the government, John Jay, perhaps, possessed in fullest measure the resplendent gifts that immortalise Hamilton. Nevertheless, it was the purity of his life, the probity of his actions, the excellence of his public purposes, that commended him to the affectionate regard of everybody. "It was never said of him," wrote John Quincy Adams, "that he had a language official and a language confidential." During a political career of eight and twenty years, if he ever departed from the highest ideal of an irreproachable uprightness of character, it is not of record. His work was criticised, often severely, at times justly, but his character for honesty and goodness continued to the end without blemish.

It is difficult to say in what field Jay did the best work. He excelled in whatever he undertook. He had poise, forcefulness, moderation, moral earnestness, and mental clearness. Whether at home or abroad the country knew his abiding place; for his well-doing marked his whereabouts as plainly as smoke on a prairie indicates the presence of a camp. He has been called the draftsman of the Continental Congress, the constitution-maker of New York, the negotiator of the peace treaty, and dictator under the Confederation, and he came very near being all that such designations imply. In a word, it may be said that what George Washington was in the field, in council, and as President, John Jay was in legislative halls, in diplomatic circles, and as a jurist.

The crowning act of his life was undoubtedly the peace treaty of 1783. But great as was this diplomatic triumph he lived long enough to realise that the failure to include Canada within the young Republic's domain was ground for just criticism. In his note to Richard Oswald, preliminary to any negotiations, Franklin suggested the cession of Canada in token "of a durable peace and a sweet reconciliation," having in mind England's desire that loyalists in America be restored to their rights. This was one of the three essentials to peace, and to meet it Franklin's note proposed that compensation be paid these loyalists out of the sale of Canada's public lands. Subsequent revelations made it fairly certain that had such cession, with its concessions to the loyalists, been firmly pressed, Canada would have become American territory. Why it was not urged remains a secret. There is no evidence that Franklin ever brought his suggestion to Oswald to the attention of Jay,[118] but it is a source of deep regret that Jay's profound sagacity did not include a country whose existence as a foreign colony on our northern border has given rise to continued embarrassment. The feeling involuntarily possesses one that he, who owned the nerve to stop all negotiations until Englishman and American met on equal terms as the representatives of equal nations, and dared to break the specific instructions of Congress when he believed France favoured confining the United States between the Atlantic and the Alleghanies, would have had the temerity to take Canada, had the great foresight been his to discern the irritating annoyances to which its independence would subject us.

[Footnote 118: "Mr. Oswald returned to Paris on the fourth of May (1782), having been absent sixteen days; during which Dr. Franklin informed each of his colleagues of what had occurred—Mr. Jay, at Madrid, Mr. Adams, in Holland—Mr. Laurens, on parole, in London."—James Parton, Life and Times of Benjamin Franklin, Vol. 2, p. 461. Franklin wrote to Adams and Laurens on April 20, suggesting that he had "hinted that, if England should make us a voluntary offer of Canada, expressly for that purpose, it might have a good effect." Works of Franklin (Sparks), Vol. 9, pp. 253-256. But his letter to Jay simply urged the latter's coming to Paris at once. Works of Franklin (Bigelow), Vol. 8, p. 48. Also, Works of Franklin (Sparks), Vol. 9, p. 254.]

Jay's brief tenure of the chief-justiceship of the United States Supreme Court gave little opportunity to test his real ability as a jurist. The views expressed by him pending the adoption and ratification of the Federal Constitution characterised his judicial interpretation of that instrument, and he lived long enough to see his doctrine well established that "government proceeds directly from the people, and is ordained and established in the name of the people." His distinguishing trait as chief justice was the capacity to confront, wisely and successfully, the difficulties of any situation by his own unaided powers of mind, but it is doubtful if the Court, under his continued domination, would have acquired the strength and public confidence given it by John Marshall. Jay believed that "under a system so defective it would not obtain the energy, weight, and dignity essential to its affording due support to the general government." This was one reason for his declining to return to the office after he ceased to be governor; he felt his inability to accomplish what the Court must establish, if the United States continued to grow into a world power. Under these circumstances, it was well, perhaps, that he gave place to John Marshall, who made it a great, supporting pillar, strong enough to resist state supremacy on the one side, and a disregard of the rights of States on the other; but Jay did more than enough to confirm the wisdom of Washington, who declared that in making the appointment he exercised his "best judgment."



CHAPTER XI

SPOILS AND BROILS OF VICTORY

1801-1803

John Jay, tired of public life, now sought his Westchester farm to enjoy the rest of an honourable retirement, leaving the race for governor in April, 1801, to Stephen Van Rensselaer. On the other hand, George Clinton, accepting the Republican nomination, got onto his gouty legs and made the greatest run of his life.[119] Outside of New England, Federalism had become old-fashioned in a year. Following Jefferson's sweeping social success, men abandoned knee breeches and became democratic in garb as well as in thought. Henceforth, New York Federalists were to get nothing except through bargains and an occasional capture of the Council of Appointment.

[Footnote 119: George Clinton, 24,808; Stephen Van Rensselaer, 20,843.—Civil List, State of New York (1887), p. 166.]

The election of George Clinton gave the party of Jefferson entire control of the State. It had the governor, the Legislature, and the Council of Appointment. It only remained to empower the Council to nominate as well as to confirm, and the boss system, begun in 1794, would have the sanction of law. For this purpose delegates, elected by the people, met at Albany on the 13th of October, 1801, and organised a constitutional convention by the election of Aaron Burr as president. Fortune had thus far been very good to Burr. At forty-five he stood one step only below the highest place in the nation, and now by a unanimous vote he became president of the second constitutional convention of the Empire State. His position was certainly imposing, but when the convention declared, as it did, that each member of the Council had the right to nominate as well as to confirm, Burr sealed DeWitt Clinton's power to overthrow and humiliate him.

In its uncompromising character DeWitt Clinton's dislike of Burr resembled Hamilton's, although for entirely different reasons. Hamilton thought him a dangerous man, guided neither by patriotism nor principle, who might at any moment throttle constitutional government and set up a dictatorship after the manner of Napoleon. Clinton's hostility arose from the jealousy of an ambitious rival who saw no room in New York for two Republican bosses. Accordingly, when the Council, which Jay had refused to reassemble, reconvened under the summons of Governor Clinton, it quickly disclosed the policy of destroying Burr and satisfying the Livingstons.[120] President Jefferson had already sent the Chancellor to France, and the Legislature had made John Armstrong, his brother-in-law, a United States senator. But enough of the Chancellor's family remained to fill other important offices, and the Council made Edward, a brother, mayor of New York; Thomas Tillotson, a brother-in-law, secretary of state; Morgan Lewis, a fourth brother-in-law, chief justice, and Brockholst Livingston, a cousin, justice of the Supreme Court.

[Footnote 120: "Young DeWitt Clinton and his friend Ambrose Spencer controlled this Council, and they were not persons who affected scruple in matters of political self-interest. They swept the Federalists out of every office even down to that of auctioneer, and without regard to appearances, even against the protests of the Governor, installed their own friends and family connections in power."—Henry Adams, History of the United States, Vol. 1, pp. 228, 229. "DeWitt Clinton was hardly less responsible than Burr himself for lowering the standard of New York politics, and indirectly that of the nation."—Ibid., p. 112.]

Out of the spoils that remained, and there was an abundance, DeWitt Clinton and Ambrose Spencer helped themselves; and then they divided the balance between their relatives and supporters. Sylvanus Miller, an ardent and lifelong friend of the former, became surrogate of New York; Elisha Jenkins, who deserted the Federalists in company with Spencer, took John V. Henry's place as state comptroller; Richard Riker, the friend and second of Clinton in his famous duel with John Swartout, became district attorney in place of Cadwallader D. Colden, a worthy grandson of "Old Silver Locks," the distinguished colonial lieutenant-governor; John McKisson, a protege of Spencer, took the clerkship of the Circuit Court from William Coleman, subsequently the brilliant editor of the Evening Post, established by Jay and Hamilton; and William Stewart, a brother-in-law of George Clinton, displaced Nathan W. Howell as assistant attorney-general. Thus the work of the political guillotine went on. It took sheriffs and surrogates; it spared neither county clerks nor justices of the peace; it left not a mayor of a city, nor a judge of a county. Even the residence of an appointee did not control. Sylvanus Miller of Ulster was made surrogate of New York with as much disregard of the people's wishes as Ruggles Hubbard of Rensselaer, who had visited the city but twice and knew nothing of its people or its life, was afterward made its sheriff.

When Clinton and Spencer finished their work a single Federalist, Josiah Ogden Hoffman, the attorney-general, remained in office, and he survived only until Ambrose Spencer could take his place. Soon afterward Spencer was advanced to the Supreme Court in place of Jacob Radcliff, a promotion that filled Federalists with the greatest alarm. Looking back upon the distinguished career of Chief Justice Spencer, it seems strange, almost ridiculous, in fact, that his appointment to the bench should have given rise to such fears; but Spencer had been the rudest, most ferocious opponent of all. The Federalists were afraid of him because they believed with William P. Van Ness, the young friend of Burr, that he was "governed by no principles or feelings except those which avarice and unprincipled ambition inspired."[121] Van Ness wrote with a pen dipped in gall, yet, if contemporary criticism be accepted, he did not exaggerate the feeling entertained for Spencer by the Federalists of that day. Like DeWitt Clinton, he was a bad hater, often insolent, sometimes haughty, and always arbitrary. After he left the Federalist party and became a member of the celebrated Council of 1801, he seemed over-zealous in his support of the men he had recently persecuted, and unnecessarily severe in his treatment of former associates. "The animosity of the apostate," said Van Ness, "cannot be controlled. Savage and relentless, he thirsts for vengeance. Such is emphatically the temper of Ambrose Spencer, who, after his conversion, was introduced to a seat in the Legislature, by his new friends, for the express purpose of perplexing and persecuting his old ones."[122] Spencer never got over being a violent partisan, but he was an impartial, honest judge. The strength of his intellect no one disputed, and if his political affiliations seemed to warp his judgment in affairs of state, it was none the less impartial and enlightened when brought to bear on difficult questions of law.

[Footnote 121: Letters of "Aristides", p. 42.]

[Footnote 122: Letters of "Aristides", p. 42.]

The timely resignation of John Armstrong from the United States Senate made room for DeWitt Clinton, who, however, a year later, resigned the senatorship to become mayor of New York. The inherent strength of the United States Senate rested, then as now, upon its constitutional endowment, but the small body of men composing it, having comparatively little to do and doing that little by general assent, with no record of their debates, evidently did not appreciate that it was the most powerful single chamber in any legislative body in the world. It is doubtful if the framers of the Constitution recognised the enormous power they had given it. Certainly DeWitt Clinton and his resigning colleagues did not appreciate that the combination of its legislative, executive, and judicial functions would one day practically dominate the Executive and the Congress, for the reason that its members are the constitutional advisers of the President, without whose assent no bill can become a law, no office can be filled, no officer of the government impeached, and no treaty made operative.

In taking leave of the United States Senate, Clinton probably gave little thought to the character of the place, whether it was a step up or a step down to the mayoralty. Just then he was engaged in the political annihilation of Aaron Burr, and he felt the necessity of entering the latter's stronghold to deprive him of influence. Out of six or seven thousand appointments made by the Council of Appointment not a friend of Aaron Burr got so much as the smallest crumb from the well-filled table. Even Burr himself, and his friend, John Swartout, were forced from the directorate of the Manhattan Bank that Burr had organised. "With astonishment," wrote William P. Van Ness, "it was observed that no man, however virtuous, however unspotted his life or his fame, could be advanced to the most unimportant appointment, unless he would submit to abandon all intercourse with Mr. Burr, vow opposition to his elevation, and like a feudal vassal pledge his personal services to traduce his character and circulate slander."[123]

[Footnote 123: Letters of "Aristides", p. 69.]

Governor Clinton feebly opposed this wholesale slaughter by refusing to sign the minutes of the Council and by making written protests against its methods; but greater emphasis would doubtless have availed no more, since the constitutional convention had reduced the governor to the merest figurehead. His one vote out of five limited the extent of his prerogative. Power existed in the combine only, and so well did DeWitt Clinton control that when the famous Council of 1801 had finished its work nothing remained for succeeding Councils to do until Clinton, the prototype of the party boss, returned in 1806 to crush the Livingstons.

Occasionally a decapitated office-holder fiercely resented the Council's action, and, to make it sting the more, complimented the Governor for his patriotic and unselfish opposition. John V. Henry evidenced his disgust by ever after declining public office, though his party had opportunities of recognising his great ability and rewarding his fidelity. Ebenezer Foote, a bright lawyer, who took his removal from the clerkship of Delaware County very much to heart, opened fire on Ambrose Spencer, charging him with base and unworthy motives in separating from the Federalists. To this Spencer replied with characteristic rhetoric. "Your removal was an act of justice to the public, inasmuch as the veriest hypocrite and the most malignant villain in the State was deprived of the power of perpetuating mischief. If, as you insinuate, your interests have by your removal been materially affected, then, sir, like many men more honest than yourself, earn your bread by the sweat of your brow."[124]

[Footnote 124: Jabez D. Hammond, Political History of New York, Vol. 1, p. 177.]

At Washington, Jefferson had rewarded friends as openly as DeWitt Clinton took care of them in Albany. In telling the story, James A. Bayard of Delaware produced an oratorical sensation in the House of Representatives. "And now, sir, let me ask the honourable gentleman," said the congressman, in reply to William Giles' defence of the Virginia President, "what his reflections and belief will be when he observes that every man on whose vote the event of Mr. Jefferson's election hung has since been distinguished by presidential favour. Mr. Charles Pinckney of South Carolina was one of the most active, efficient and successful promoters of the election of the present chief magistrate, and he has since been appointed minister plenipotentiary to the court of Madrid—an appointment as high and honourable as any within the gift of the Executive. I know what was the value of the vote of Mr. Claiborne of Tennessee; the vote of a State was in his hands. Mr. Claiborne has since been raised to the high dignity of governor of the Mississippi Territory. I know how great, and how greatly felt, was the importance of the vote of Mr. Linn of New Jersey. The delegation of the State consists of five members; two of the delegation were decidedly for Mr. Jefferson, two were decidedly for Mr. Burr. Mr. Linn was considered as inclining to one side, but still doubtful; both parties looked up to him for the vote of New Jersey. He gave it to Mr. Jefferson; and Mr. Linn has since had the profitable office of supervisor of his district conferred upon him. Mr. Lyon of Vermont was in this instance an important man; he neutralised the vote of Vermont; his absence alone would have given the State to Mr. Burr. It was too much to give an office to Mr. Lyon; his character was low; but Mr. Lyon's son has been handsomely provided for in one of the executive offices. I shall add to the catalogue but the name of one more gentleman, Mr. Edward Livingston of New York. I knew well—full well I knew—the consequence of this gentleman. His means were not limited to his own vote; nay, I always considered more than the vote of New York within his power. Mr. Livingston has been made the attorney for the district of New York; the road of preferment has been opened to him, and his brother has been raised to the distinguished place of minister plenipotentiary to the French Republic."[125]

[Footnote 125: Henry Adams, History of the United States, Vol. 1, pp. 294-5.]

Albert Gallatin, Jefferson's secretary of the treasury, thought Burr less selfish than either the Clintons or the Livingstons, and, on the score of office-seeking, Gallatin was probably correct. But Burr, if without relatives, had several devoted friends whom he pressed for appointment, among them John Swartout for marshal, Daniel Gelston for collector, Theodorus Bailey for naval officer, and Matthew L. Davis for supervisor. Swartout succeeded, but DeWitt Clinton, getting wind of the scheme, entered an heroic protest to Jefferson, who quickly concurred in Clinton's wishes without so much as a conference with Gallatin or Burr. The latter, hearing rumours of the secret understanding, sent a sharp letter to Gallatin, pressing Davis' appointment on the ground of good faith, with a threat that he would no longer be trifled with; but Gallatin was helpless as well as ignorant, and the President silent. Davis' journey to Monticello developed nothing but Jefferson's insincerity, and on his return to New York the press laughed at his credulity.

This ended Burr's pretended loyalty to the Administration. On his return to Washington, in January, 1802, he quietly watched his opportunity, and two weeks later gave the casting vote which sent Jefferson's pet measure, the repeal of the judiciary act of 1801, to a select committee for delay, instead of to the President for approval. Soon after, at a Federalist banquet celebrating Washington's birthday, Burr proposed the toast, "The union of all honest men." This was the fatal stab. The country didn't understand it, but to Jefferson and the Clintons it meant all that Burr intended, and from that moment DeWitt Clinton's newspaper, the American Citizen and Watchtower, owned by his cousin and edited by James Cheetham, an English refugee, took up the challenge thus thrown down, and began its famous attack upon the Vice President.

Burr's conduct during those momentous weeks when Federalists did their utmost to make him President, gave his rivals ample ground for creating the belief that he had evidenced open contempt for the principles of honest dealing. Had he published a letter after the Federalists decided to support him, condemning their policy as a conspiracy to deprive the people of their choice for President, and refusing to accept an election at their hands if tendered him, it must have disarmed his critics and smoothed his pathway to further political preferment; but his failure so to act, coupled with his well-known behaviour and the activity of his friends, gave opponents an advantage that skill and ability were insufficient to overcome.

James Cheetham handled his pen like a bludgeon. Even at this distance of time Cheetham's "View of Aaron Burr's Political Conduct," in which is traced the Vice President's alleged intrigues to promote himself over Jefferson, is interesting and exciting. Despite its bitter sarcasm and torrent of vituperation, Cheetham's array of facts and dates, the designation of persons and places, and the bold assumptions based on apparent knowledge, backed by foot-notes that promised absolute proof if denial were made, impress one strongly. There is much that is weak, much that is only suspicion, much that is fanciful. A visit to an uncle in Connecticut, a call upon the governor of Rhode Island, a communication sent under cover to another, letters in cipher, pleasant notices in Federalist newspapers, a journey of Timothy Green to South Carolina—all these belong to the realm of inference; but the method of blending them with well established facts was so artful, the writer's sincerity so apparent, and the strokes of the pen so bold and positive, that it is easy to understand the effect which Cheetham's accusation, taken up and ceaselessly repeated by other papers, would have upon the political fortunes of Burr.

Nevertheless the Vice President remained silent. He did not feel, or seem to feel, newspaper criticism with the acuteness of a sensitive nature trying to do right. "They are so utterly lost on me that I should never have seen even this," he wrote Theodosia, "but that it came inclosed to me in a letter from New York." Still Cheetham kept his battery at work. After his "Narrative" came the "View," and then, in 1803, "Nine Letters on the Subject of Burr's Defection," a heavier volume, a sort of siege-gun, brought up to penetrate an epidermis heretofore apparently impregnable. Finally, the Albany Register took up the matter, followed by other Republican papers, until their purpose to drive the grandson of Jonathan Edwards from the party could no longer be mistaken.[126]

[Footnote 126: "All the world knew that not Cheetham, but DeWitt Clinton, thus dragged the Vice President from his chair, and that not Burr's vices but his influence made his crimes heinous; that behind DeWitt Clinton stood the Virginia dynasty, dangling Burr's office in the eyes of the Clinton family, and lavishing honours and money on the Livingstons. All this was as clear to Burr and his friends as though it was embodied in an Act of Congress."—Henry Adams, History of the United States, Vol. 1, pp. 331, 332.]

Burr's coterie of devoted friends so understood it, and when the gentle Peter Irving, whose younger brother was helping the newly established Chronicle into larger circulation by his Jonathan Oldstyle essays, showed an indisposition as editor of the Burrite paper to vituperate and lampoon in return, William P. Van Ness, the famous and now historic "Aristides," appeared in the political firmament with the suddenness and brilliancy of a comet that dims the light of stars.

Van Ness coupled real literary ability with political audacity, putting Cheetham's fancy flights and inferences to sleep as if they were babes in the woods. It was quickly seen that Cheetham was no match for him. He had neither the finish nor the venom. Compared to the sentences of "Aristides," as polished and attractive as they were bitter and ill-tempered, Cheetham's periods seemed coarse and tame. The letters of Junius did not make themselves felt in English political life more than did this pamphlet in the political circles of New York. It was novel, it was brilliantly able, and it drove the knife deeper and surer than its predecessors. What Taine, the great French writer, said of Junius might with equal truth be said of "Aristides," that if he made his phrases and selected his epithets, it was not from the love of style, but in order the better to stamp his insult. No one knew then, nor until long afterward, who "Aristides" was—not even Cheetham could pierce the incognito; but every one knew that upon him the full mind of Aaron Burr had unloaded a volume of information respecting men, their doings and sayings, which enriched the work and made his rhetoric an instrument of torture. It bristled with history and character sketches. Whatever the Vice President knew, or thought he knew, was poured into those eighty pages with a staggering fulness and disregard of consequences that startled the political world and captivated all lovers of the brilliant and sensational in literature. Confidences were revealed, conversations made public, quarrels uncovered, political secrets given up, and the gossip of Council and Legislature churned into a story that pleased every one. What Hamilton's attack on Adams did for Federalists, "Aristides'" reply to Cheetham did for the Republicans; but the latter wrote with a ferocity unknown to the pages of the great Federalist's unfortunate letter.

"Aristides" struck at everybody and missed no one. The Governor "has dwindled into the mere instrument of an ambitious relative;" Tillotson was "a contemptible shuffling apothecary, without ingenuity or devise, or spirit to pursue any systematic plan of iniquity;" Richard Riker was "an imbecile and obsequious pettifogger, a vain and contemptible little pest, who abandoned the Federal standard on the third day of the election, in April, 1800;" John McKisson, "an execrable compound of every species of vice," was the man whom Clinton "exultingly declared a great scoundrel." The attack thus daringly begun was steadily maintained. Ambrose Spencer was "a man as notoriously infamous as the legitimate offspring of treachery and fraud can possibly be;" Samuel Osgood, "a born hypocrite, propagated falsehood for the purpose of slander and imposition;" Chancellor Livingston, "a capricious, visionary theorist," was "lamentably deficient in the practical knowledge of a politician, and heedless of important and laborious pursuits, at which his frivolous mind revolted."

The greatest interest of the pamphlet, however, began when "Aristides," taking up the cause of Burr, struck at higher game than Richard Riker or Ambrose Spencer. DeWitt Clinton was portrayed as "formed for mischief," "inflated with vanity," "cruel by nature," "an object of derision and disgust," "a dissolute and desperate intriguer," "an adept in moral turpitude, skilled in all the combination of treachery and fraud, with a mind matured by the practice of iniquity, and unalloyed with any virtuous principle." "Was it not disgraceful to political controversy," continues "Aristides," with an audacity of denunciation and sternness of animosity, "I would develop the dark and gloomy disorders of his malignant bosom, and trace each convulsive vibration of his wicked heart. He may justly be ranked among those, who, though destitute of sound understandings, are still rendered dangerous to society by the intrinsic baseness of character that engenders hatred to everything good and valuable in the world; who, with barbarous malignity, view the prevalence of moral principles, and the extension of benevolent designs; who, foes to virtue, seek the subversion of every valuable institution, and meditate the introduction of wild and furious disorders among the supporters of public virtue. His intimacy with men who have long since disowned all regard to decency and have become the daring advocates of every species of atrocity; his indissoluble connection with those, who, by their lives, have become the finished examples of profligacy and corruption; who have sworn enmity, severe and eternal, to the altar of our religion and the prosperity of our government, must infallibly exclude him from the confidence of reputable men. What sentiments can be entertained for him, but those of hatred and contempt, when he is seen the constant associate of a man whose name has become synonymous with vice, a dissolute and fearless assassin of private character, of domestic comfort, and of social happiness; when he is known to be the bosom friend and supporter of the profligate and abandoned libertine, who, from the vulgar debauches of night, hastens again to the invasion of private property. Who, through the robbery of the public revenue, and the violation of private seals, hurries down the precipice of deep and desperate villainy."