During the war Governor Clinton's duties were largely military. Every important measure of the Legislature dealt with the public defence, and the time of the Executive was fully employed in carrying out its enactments and performing the work of commander-in-chief of the militia. A large proportion of the population of the State was either avowedly loyal to the Crown or secretly indisposed to the cause of independence. "Of all the Colonies," wrote William Jay, "New York was probably the least unanimous in the assertion and defence of the principles of the Revolution. The spirit of disaffection was most extensive on Long Island, and had probably tainted a large majority of its inhabitants. In Queens County, in particular, the people had, by a formal vote, refused to send representatives to the colonial congress or convention, and had declared themselves neutral in the present crisis."[21]
The Governor sought to crush this spirit by methods much in vogue in the eighteenth century. At the outset of his career he declared that he had "rather roast in hell to all eternity than be dependent upon Great Britain or show mercy to a damned Tory." To add to his fame, he enforced this judgment with heavy fines, long imprisonments, summary banishments, and frequent coats of tar and feathers.
Very soon after the adoption of the Constitution, the Legislature passed a law requiring an oath of allegiance to the State; and under the vigorous enforcement of this act the Governor sent many Tories from the rural districts into the city of New York or expelled them from the State. Others were required to give a pledge, with security, to reside within prescribed limits. At times even the churches were filled with prisoners, some of whom were sent to jails in Connecticut, or exchanged for prisoners of war. In 1779 the Legislature increased the penalty of disloyalty to the State, by passing the Confiscation Act, declaring "the forfeiture and sale of the estates of persons who had adhered to the enemy."
Up to this time only one political party had existed among the Whig colonists. The passage of the Confiscation Act, however, encountered the opposition of many sincere lovers of the cause of independence, who favoured a more moderate policy toward loyalists, since they were probably as sincere in their opinions as those opposed to them. Besides, a generous and magnanimous course, it was argued, would induce the return of many desirable citizens after hostilities had ceased. To this the ultra-Whigs replied that the law of self-preservation made a severe policy necessary, and if any one suffered by its operation he must look to the government of his choice for comfort and reimbursement. As for the return of the Tories, the ultras declared that only citizens sincerely loyal to an independent country would be acceptable.
This division into moderate and ultra Whigs was emphasised in 1781 by the legislative grant to Congress of such import duties as accrued at the port of New York, to be levied and collected "under such penalties and regulations, and by such officers, as Congress should from time to time make, order, and appoint." Governor Clinton did not cordially approve the act at the time of its passage, and as the money began flowing into the national treasury, he opposed the method of its surrender. In his opinion, the State, as an independent sovereignty, had associated itself with other Colonies only for mutual protection, and not for their support. At his instance, therefore, the Legislature substituted for the law of 1781 the act of March, 1783, granting the duties to Congress, but directing their collection by officers of the State. Although this act was subsequently amended, making collectors amenable to Congress, another law was enacted in 1786 granting Congress the revenue, and reserving to the State, as in the law of 1783, "the sole power of levying and collecting the duties." When Congress asked the Governor to call a special session of the Legislature, that the right to levy and collect might be yielded as before, he refused to do so.
Governor Clinton understood the commercial advantages of New York's geographical location, which were greatly enhanced by the navigation acts of other States. The peace treaty had made New York the port of entry for the whole region east of the Delaware, and into its coffers poured a revenue so marvellous as to excite hopes of a prospective wealth which a century, remarkable as was its productiveness, did little more than realise. If any State, therefore, could survive without a union with other Colonies, it was New York, and it is not surprising that many, perhaps a majority of its people, under the leadership of George Clinton, settled into a policy unfriendly to a national revenue, and later to a national government.
The Governor had gradually become mindful of an opposition as stubborn as it was persistent. He had encountered it in his treatment of the Tories, but not until Alexander Hamilton became an advocate of amnesty and oblivion, did Clinton recognise the centre and future leader of the opposing forces. Hamilton did not appear among those interested in the election of governor in 1777. His youth shut him out of Assembly and Congress, out of committees and conventions, but it did not shut him out of the army; and while Governor Clinton was wrestling with new problems of government in the formation of a new State, Hamilton was acting as secretary, aide, companion, and confidant of Washington, accepting suggestions as commands, and acquiescing in his chief's judgment with a fidelity born of love and admiration. In the history of war nothing is more beautiful than the friendship existing between the acknowledged leader of his country and this brave young officer, spirited and impulsive, brilliant and able, yet frank and candid, without ostentation and without egotism. It recalls a later-day relationship between Ulysses S. Grant and John A. Rawlins, his chief of staff.
In July, 1781, Hamilton, in command of a corps, accompanied Washington in the forced march of the American army from New York to Yorktown. This afforded him the opportunity, so long and eagerly sought, of handling an independent command at a supreme moment of danger, and before the sun went down on the 14th of October, he had led his troops with fixed bayonets, under a heavy and constant fire, over abatis, ditch, and palisades; then, mounting the parapet, he leaped into the redoubt. Washington saw the impetuosity of the attack in the face of the murderous fire, the daring leap to the parapet with three of his soldiers, and the almost fatal spring into the redoubt. "Few cases," he says, "have exhibited greater proofs of intrepidity, coolness, and firmness." Three days later Cornwallis surrendered.
In the summer of 1782 Hamilton was admitted to the bar in Albany, but soon afterward settled in New York City, where he seems to have come into practice and into fame by defending the rights of Tories. For four years after the war ended, the treatment of British sympathisers was the dominant political issue in New York. Governor Clinton advocated disfranchisement and banishment, and the Legislature enacted into law what he advised; so that when the British troops, under the peace treaty, evacuated New York, in November, 1783, loyalists who had thus far escaped the wrath of this patriot Governor, flocked to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick like birds seeking a more congenial clime, recalling the flight of the Huguenots after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes one hundred years earlier. It is not easy to estimate the number who fled before this savage and violent action of the Legislature. Sir Guy Carleton, in command at New York, fixes the emigration at one hundred thousand souls. For many years the "Landing of the Loyalists" was annually commemorated at St. John, and in the cemeteries of England and Scotland are found the tombstones of these unfortunate devotees of the mother country.
It is likely Clinton was too intolerant, but it was the intolerance that follows revolution. Hamilton, on the other hand, became an early advocate of amnesty and oblivion, and, although public sentiment and the Legislature were against him, he finally succeeded in modifying the one and changing the other. "Nothing is more common," he observed, "than for a free people in times of heat and violence to gratify momentary passions by letting in principles and precedents which afterwards prove fatal to themselves. If the Legislature can disfranchise at pleasure, it may soon confine all the votes to a small number of partisans, and establish an aristocracy or an oligarchy; if it may banish at discretion, without hearing or trial, no man can be safe. The name of liberty applied to such a government would be a mockery of common sense."[22]