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]
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.
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.