Gouverneur was the child of his father's second marriage. The family,[78] especially the older children, of whom Richard, chief justice of the State, was the third and youngest boy, resented the union, making Gouverneur's position resemble that of Joseph among his brethren. Twenty-two years intervened between him and Richard. Before the former left the schoolroom, the latter had succeeded his father as judge of the vice-admiralty; but as for being of any assistance to the fatherless lad Richard might as well have been vice-admiral of the blue, sailing the seas. There would be something pathetic in this estrangement, if independence and self-reliance had not dominated the youngest son as well as the older heirs of this noble family. Lewis, the eldest, served in the Continental Congress and became a signer of the Declaration of Independence, while Staats Long, the second son, wandered to England, married the Countess of Gordon, became a general in the British army, and a member of Parliament in the days of Lord North and Charles James Fox. It was a strange coincidence, one brother resisting Parliament in Congress, the other resisting Congress in Parliament.
The influences surrounding Gouverneur's youth were decidedly Tory. His mother warmly adhered to George the Third; his professors at King's taught loyalty to the Crown; his distinguished tutor in the law, William Smith, New York's Tory historian, magnified the work and the strength of Parliament; while his associates, always his mother's welcomed guests at Morrisania, were British officers, who talked of Wolfe and his glorious struggles for England. But there never was a moment from the time Gouverneur Morris entered the Provincial Congress of New York on May 22, 1775, at the age of twenty-three, that he was not conspicuously and brilliantly active in the cause of America. Whenever or wherever a Revolutionary body was organised, or for whatever purpose, Congress, Convention, or Committee of Safety, he became a member of it. Six years younger than Jay, and six years older than Hamilton, he seemed to complete that remarkable New York trio, so fertile in mental resources and so successful in achievement. He did not, like Jay, outline a constitution, but he believed, with Jay, in balancing wealth against numbers, and in contending for the protection of the rights of property against the spirit of democracy. It is interesting to study these young men, so different in temperament, yet thinking alike and acting together for a quarter of a century—Jay, gentle and modest; Hamilton, impetuous and imperious; Morris, self-confident and conceited; but on all essential matters of state, standing together like a tripod, firm and invincible. In his distrust of western influences, however, Morris was more conservative than Jay or Hamilton. He was broad and liberal toward the original thirteen States, but he wanted to subordinate the balance of the country to their control. He regarded the people who might seek homes west of the Alleghanies with something of the suspicion Jay entertained for the propertyless citizens of New York. The day would come, he believed, when those untutored, backwoods settlers would outnumber their brethren on the Atlantic coast, and he desired some provision in the Constitution which would permit the minority to rule such a majority. If these views shrivelled his statesmanship, it may be said to his credit that they discovered a prophetic gift most uncommon in those days, giving him the power to see a great empire of people in the fertile valley of the Mississippi and its tributaries.[79] Fifteen years later Robert R. Livingston expressed the belief that not in a century would a white man cross the Father of Waters.
Into the life of Jay's peaceful administration came another interesting character, the champion of every project known to the inventive genius of his day. We shall hear much of Samuel Latham Mitchill during the next three decades. He was now thirty-five years old, a sort of universal eccentric genius, already known as philosopher, scientist, teacher, and critic, a professor in Columbia, the friend of Joseph Priestley, the author of scientific essays, and the first in America to make mineralogical explorations. Perhaps if he had worked in fewer fields he might have won greater renown, making his name familiar to the general student of our own time; but he belonged to an order of intellect far higher than most of his associates, filling the books with his doings and sayings. Although his influence, even among specialists, has probably faded now, he inspired the scientific thought of his time, and established societies which still exist, and whose history, up to the time of his death in 1831, was largely his own. Mitchill belonged to the Republican party because it was the party of Jefferson, and he followed Jefferson because Jefferson was a philosopher. For the same reason he became the personal friend of Chancellor Livingston, with whom, among other things, he founded the Society for the Promotion of Agriculture, Manufactures, and the Useful Arts. It was said of Mitchill that "he was equally at home in studying the geology of Niagara, or the anatomy of an egg; in offering suggestions as to the angle of a windmill, or the shape of a gridiron; in deciphering a Babylonian brick, or in advising how to apply steam to navigation."
Mitchill became a member of the Assembly in 1798, and it was his interest in the experiments then being made of applying steam to navigation, that led him to introduce a bill repealing the act of 1787, giving John Fitch the sole right to use steamboats on the Hudson, and granting the privilege to Chancellor Livingston for a term of twenty years, provided that within a year he should build a boat of twenty tons capacity and propel it by steam at a speed of four miles an hour. John Fitch had disappeared, and with him his idea of applying steam to paddles. He had fitted a steam engine of his own invention into a ferry-boat of his own construction, and for a whole summer this creation of an uneducated genius had been seen by the people of Philadelphia moving steadily against wind and tide; but money gave out, the experiment was unsatisfactory, and Fitch wandered to the banks of the Ohio, where opium helped him end his life in an obscure Kentucky inn, while his steamboat rotted on the shores of the Delaware. Then John Stevens of Hoboken began a series of experiments in 1791, trying elliptical paddles, smoke-jack wheels, and other ingenious contrivances, which soon found the oblivion of Fitch's inventions. Subsequently Rumsey, another ingenious American, sought with no better success to drive a boat by expelling water from the stern. When it was announced that the great Chancellor also had a scheme, it is not surprising, perhaps, that the wags of the Assembly ridiculed the project as idle and whimsical. "Imagine a boat," said one, "trying to propel itself by squirting water through its stern." Another spoke of it as "an application of the skunk principle." Ezra L'Hommedieu, then a state senator, declared that Livingston's "steamboat bill" was a standing subject of ridicule throughout the entire session.
But there were others than legislators who made sport of these apparently visionary projects to settle the value of steam as a locomotive power. Benjamin H. Latrobe, the most eminent engineer in America, did not hesitate to overwhelm such inventions with objections that, in his opinion, could never be overcome. "There are indeed general objections to the use of the steam engine for impelling boats," he wrote, in 1803, "from which no particular mode of application can be free. These are, first, the weight of the engine and of the fuel; second, the large space it occupies; third, the tendency of its action to rack the vessel and render it leaky; fourth, the expense of maintenance; fifth, the irregularity of its motion and the motion of the water in the boiler and cistern, and of the fuel-vessel in rough water; sixth, the difficulty arising from the liability of the paddles or oars to break, if light, and from the weight, if made strong. Perhaps some of the objections against it may be obviated. That founded on the expense and weight of the fuel may not for some years exist in the Mississippi, where there is a redundance of wood on the banks; but the cutting and loading will be almost as great an evil."[80]
Mitchill, however, would not be suppressed by the fun-making legislators or the reasoning of a conservative engineer. "I had to encounter all their jokes and the whole of their logic," he wrote a friend. His bill finally became a law, and Livingston, with the help of the Doctor, placed a horizontal wheel in a well in the bottom and centre of a boat, which propelled the water through an aperture in the stern. The small engine, however, having an eighteen-inch cylinder and three feet stroke, could obtain a speed of only three miles an hour, and finding that the loss of power did not compensate for the encumbrance of external wheels and the action of the waves, which he hoped to escape, Livingston relinquished the plan. Four years later, however, the Chancellor's money and Robert Fulton's genius were to enrich the world with a discovery that has immortalised Fulton and placed Livingston's name among the patrons of the greatest inventors.