There was, however, one Republican in Albany whose course excited more serious censure than was meted out to all others. At a moment when the methods of bank managers aroused the most bitter hostility of his closest political allies, DeWitt Clinton became conspicuous by his silence. At heart he opposed the Bank of America as bitterly as Ambrose Spencer and for the same reasons; nor did he recognise any difference in the conditions surrounding it and those which existed in 1805 when he drove Ebenezer Purdy from the Senate; but, consumed with a desire to get a legislative indorsement for President, before Madison secured a congressional nomination, he refused to take sides, since the bank people, who dominated the Legislature, refused such an indorsement until the passage of their charter. In vain did Spencer threaten and Taylor plead. He would vote, Clinton said, against the bank if opportunity presented, but he would not be drawn into the bitter contest; he would not denounce Southwick; he would not judge Thomas; he would not even venture to criticise the bank. For fourteen years Clinton and Spencer had been fast political friends; but now, at the supreme moment of Clinton's ambition, these brothers-in-law were to fall under the guidance of different stars.

Governor Tompkins, whose desire to enter the White House no longer veiled itself as a secret, understood the purpose and importance of Clinton's silence, and to give President Madison an advantage, he used a prerogative, only once exercised under the Constitution of 1777, to prorogue the Legislature for sixty days. Ostensibly he did it to defeat the bank; in reality he desired the defeat of Clinton. It is not easy to appreciate the wild excitement that followed the Governor's act. It recalled the days of the provincial governors, when England's hand rested heavily upon the liberties of the people; and the friends of the bank joined in bitter denunciation of such a despotic use of power. Meantime, a congressional caucus renominated Madison. But whatever the forced adjournment did for Clinton, it in no wise injured the bank, which was chartered as soon as the Legislature reassembled on May 21.

While the Bank of America was engrossing the attention of the Legislature and the nomination of a presidential candidate convulsed Congress, George Clinton closed his distinguished career at Washington on the 20th of April, 1812. If he left behind him a memory of long service which had been lived to his own advantage, it was by no means lived to the disadvantage of his country or his State. He did much for both. Perhaps he was better fitted for an instrument of revolution than a governor of peace, but the influence which he exercised upon his time was prodigious. In the two great events of his life—the revolt of the Colonies and the adoption of a Federal Constitution—he undoubtedly swayed the minds of his countrymen to a degree unequalled among those contemporaries who favoured independence and state supremacy. He lacked the genius of Hamilton, the scholarly, refined integrity of Jay, and the statesmanship of both; but he was by odds the strongest, ablest, and most astute man of his party in the State. Jay and Hamilton looked into the future, Clinton saw only the present. The former possessed a love for humanity and a longing for progress which encouraged them to work out a national existence, broad enough and strong enough to satisfy the ambition of a great nation a century after its birth; Clinton was satisfied to conserve what he had, unmoved by the great possibilities even then indistinctly outlined to the eye of the statesman whose vision was fixed intently upon an undivided America. But Clinton wisely conserved what was given to his keeping. As he grew older he grew more tolerant and humane, substituting imprisonment for the death penalty, and recommending a complete revision of the criminal laws. His administration, too, saw the earliest attempts made in a systematic way toward the spread of education among the multitudes, his message to the Legislature of 1795 urging a generous appropriation to common schools. This was the first suggestion of state aid. Colleges and seminaries had been remembered, but schools for the common people waited until Clinton had been governor for eighteen years.

CHAPTER XVIII
CLINTON AND THE PRESIDENCY
1812

For many years DeWitt Clinton had had aspirations to become a candidate for President. He entered the United States Senate in 1802 with such an ambition; he became mayor of New York in 1803 with this end in view; he sought the lieutenant-governorship in 1811 for no other purpose; and, although he had never taken a managing step in that direction, looking cautiously into the future, he saw his way and only waited for the passing of the Vice President. DeWitt Clinton, whatever his defects of character and however lacking he may have been in an exalted sense of political principle, appears to have been sincere in his anxiety to elevate his uncle to the presidential chair. During Jefferson's administration his efforts seem never to have been intermitted, and only when the infirmities of advanced age admonished him that George Clinton's life and career were nearly at an end, did his mind and heart, acquiescing in the appropriation of his relative's mantle, seize the first opportunity of satisfying his unbounded ambition.

The opening presented in the spring of 1812 was not an unattractive one. A new party, controlled by a remarkable coterie of brilliant young men from the South, whose shibboleth was war with England, had sprung up in Congress, and, by sheer force of will and intellect, had dragged to the support of its policies the larger part of the Republican majority.[164] President Madison was thoroughly in sympathy with these members. He thought war should be declared before Congress adjourned, and, to hasten its coming, he had recommended an embargo for sixty days. "For my own part," he wrote Jefferson, "I look upon a short embargo as a step to immediate war, and I wait only for the Senate to make the declaration."[165] This did not sound like a peace voice; yet the anti-English party felt little cordiality for him. His abilities, as the event amply proved, were not those likely to wage a successful war. He was regarded as a timid man, incapable of a burst of passion or a bold act. In place of resolute opinion he courted argument; with an inclination to be peevish and fretful, he was at times arrogantly pertinacious. Although his health, moreover, was delicate and he looked worn and feeble, he exhibited no consciousness of needing support, declining to reconstruct his Cabinet that abler men might lend the assistance his own lack of energy demanded. As time went on Republicans would gladly have exchanged him for a stronger leader, one better fitted by character and temperament to select the men and find a way for a speedy victory. It was no less plain that the conservatives thoroughly disliked him, and if they could have wrought a change without disrupting the party, it would have suited their spirit and temper to have openly opposed his renomination.

DeWitt Clinton understood the situation, and his friends pointed with confidence to his well known character for firmness and nerve. Of Clinton, it may be justly said, that he seems most attractive, not as a politician, not as a mayor solicitous for the good government of a growing city, not as a successful promoter of the canal, but as a rugged, inflexible, determined, self-willed personality. Perhaps not many loved him, or longed for his companionship, or had any feeling of tenderness for him; yet, in spite of his manners or want of manners, there was a fascination about the man that often disarmed censure and turned the critic into a devotee. At this time he undoubtedly stood at the head of his party in the North. He was still young, having just entered his forties, still ambitious to shine as a statesman of the first magnitude. An extraordinary power of application had equipped him with the varied information that would make him an authority in the national life. Even his enemies admitted his capacity as a great executive. He had sometimes been compelled, for the sake of his own career, to regulate his course by a disregard of party creed, especially at a time when the principles of Republicanism were somewhat undefined in their character; but amid all the doubts and distractions of a checkered, eventful political career he was known for his absolute integrity, his clear head, and his steady nerve. His very pride made it impossible for him to condescend to any violation of a promise.

Clinton's New York party friends naturally desired a legislative indorsement for him before Congress could act. But Governor Tompkins' sudden adjournment of the Legislature had stripped him of that advantage, and three days before the houses reassembled, on May 18, Madison was renominated by a congressional caucus, seventeen senators and sixty-six representatives, including three from New York, taking part in its proceedings. Eleven days later, ninety out of ninety-five Republican members of the New York Legislature voted in caucus to support Clinton.[166] If the Madison caucus doubted the wisdom of its action, the Clinton caucus was no less uncertain of the expediency of its decision. Governor Tompkins opposed it; the Livingstons assailed it; the Martling Men, led by Sanford and Lewis, refused to attend; Ambrose Spencer and John Taylor went into it because they were driven; and Erastus Root, in maintaining that Clinton could not, and as a Federal candidate ought not, to succeed, clearly voiced the sentiment of a large minority. In short, the most prominent men in the State opposed the nomination, knowing that Republicans outside of New York could not support it because of its irregularity.