WHILE Aaron flourishes with Senate gavel, and Hamilton mourns his downfall at the Grange, new men are springing up and new lines forming. The Federalists disappear in the presidential going down of the wooden Adams; Aaron, by that one crushing victory, annihilated them. The new alignment in New York is personal rather than political, and becomes the merest separation of Aaron’s friends from Aaron’s enemies.
At the head of the latter, De Witt Clinton, nephew to old North-of-Ireland Clinton, takes his stand. Being modern, Clinton starts a newspaper, the American Citizen, and places a scurrilous dog named Cheetham in charge. As a counterweight, Aaron launches the Morning Chronicle, with Peter Irving editor, and his brother, young Washington Irving, as its leading writer. Now descends a war of ink, that is recklessly acrimonious and not at all merry.
Under that spur of feverish ink, the two sides fall to dueling with the utmost assiduity. Hamilton’s son Philip insults Mr. Eaker, a lawyer friend of Aaron; and the insulted Mr. Eaker gives up the law for one day to parade young Hamilton at the conventional ten paces. It is all highly honorable, all highly orthodox; and young Hamilton is killed in a way which reflects credit on those concerned.
Aaron’s lieutenant, John Swartwout, fastens a quarrel upon De Witt Clinton, for sundry ink utterances of the latter’s dog-of-types, Cheetham. The two cross the river to a spot of convenient seclusion.
“I wish it were your chief instead of you!” cries Clinton, who is not fine in his politenesses.
“So do I,” responds Swartwout, being of a rudeness to match Clinton’s. “For he is a dead shot, and would infallibly kill you; while I am the poorest hand with a pistol among the Buck-tails.”
The bickering pair are placed. They fire and miss. A second, and yet a third time their lead flies shamefully wide. At the fourth shot Clinton saves his credit by wounding Swartwout in the leg. The stubborn Swartwout demands a fifth fire, and Clinton plants a second bullet within two inches of the first.
“Are you satisfied?” asks Mr. Riker, who acts for Clinton.
“I am not,” returns Swartwout the stubborn. “Your man must retract, or continue the fight. Kill or be killed, I am prepared to shoot out the afternoon with him.”
At this, both Clinton’s fortitude and manners break down together, and, refusing to either fight on or apologize, he walks off the field. This nervous extravagance creates a scandal among our folk of hectic sensibilities, and shakes the Clinton standing sorely. He is promptly challenged by Senator Dayton—an adherent of Aaron’s—but evades that statesman at further loss to his reputation.