The violent methods of New England governors in withdrawing their militia from the service of the United States, coupled with the action of the New York Federalists in calling a state convention to determine what course their party should pursue, were well calculated to arouse Governor Tompkins, who welcomed the privilege of upholding the general government. He did not minimise the gravity of the situation. Perhaps he did not feel the alarm expressed in Jefferson's letter to Gallatin, a year after the crisis had passed; for he now had behind him a patriotic Legislature and the nucleus of an invincible army under trained leadership. But if the war had continued, and, as the Washington authorities anticipated, the British had prevailed at New Orleans, he would have found a New England confederacy to the east of him as well as an army of English veterans on the north.
The conditions that faced Madison made peace his last hope. American commissioners were already in Europe; but as month after month passed without agreement, the darkest hour of the war seemed to have settled upon the country. Suddenly, on the 4th of February, 1815, the startling and glorious news of General Jackson's decisive victory at New Orleans electrified the nation. A week later, a British sloop of war sailed into New York harbour, announcing that the treaty of Ghent had been signed on the 24th of the preceding December. Instantly Madison's troubles disappeared. The war was over, the Hartford commissioners were out of employment, and the happy phrase of Charles J. Ingersoll of Pennsylvania became the popular summing up of the treaty—"not an inch ceded or lost." Jackson's victory had not entered into the peace negotiations; but intelligent men knew that the superb fighting along the Canadian frontier during the campaign of 1814, had had much to do in bringing about the result. Beginning with the battle of Chippewa, where equal bodies of troops met face to face, in broad daylight, on an open field, without advantage of position, the American army faced British troops with the skill and desperate courage that characterised the struggle between the North and the South forty years later.
Among civilians most admired for their part in the struggle, Daniel D. Tompkins stood first. The genius of an American governor had never been more nobly employed, and, although he was sometimes swayed by prejudice and the impulses of his personal ambition, he did enough to show that he was devotedly attached to his country.
CHAPTER XXI
CLINTON OVERTHROWN
1815
The election of a Republican Assembly in the spring of 1814 opened the way for a Republican Council of Appointment, composed of Jonathan Dayton, representing the southern district, Lucas Elmendorff the middle, Ruggles Hubbard the eastern, and Ferrand Stranahan the western. Elmendorff had been two years in the Assembly, six years in Congress, and was now serving the first year of a single term in the State Senate; but like his less experienced colleagues he was on the Council simply to carry out the wishes of the leaders. It had been three years since Republicans had tasted the sweets of office, and a hungrier horde of applicants never besieged the capital. Yet so dextrous had politicians become in making changes from one party to the other, that the Council's work must have ended in a week had not the jealousies, until now veiled by the war, quickly developed into a conflict destined to reconcile Ambrose Spencer and DeWitt Clinton, and to rivet the friendly relations between Governor Tompkins and Martin Van Buren.
Van Buren desired to become attorney-general. He had been conspicuously prominent almost from the day he entered the Senate; and, after the Republicans recovered control of the Assembly, he was the acknowledged legislative leader of his party. By his persuasive eloquence, his gift of argument, and his political tact in obtaining supporters, he secured the passage of a "classification bill" which divided the military population of the State into twelve thousand classes, each class being required to furnish one able-bodied soldier by voluntary enlistment, by bounty, or by draft. "This act," declared Thomas H. Benton, years afterward, "was the most energetic war measure ever adopted in the country."[182] There appears to be a general agreement among writers who have commented upon the character of Van Buren and his work at this period of his career, that, next to the Governor among civilians, Van Buren was most entitled to the gratitude of his party and his State. Besides, his smooth and pleasing address had become more fascinating the longer he continued in the Senate, until his influence among legislators was equalled only by the kindly and sympathetic Tompkins, whose success in the war had won him a place in the hearts of men similar to that enjoyed by George Clinton after the close of the Revolution.
But popular and deserving as Van Buren was Ambrose Spencer opposed his preferment. He saw in the brilliant young legislator an obstacle to his own influence; and to break his strength at the earliest moment he advocated for attorney-general the candidacy of John Woodworth. Woodworth was filling the position when the Federalists installed Abraham Van Vechten; his right to restoration appealed with peculiar force to his party friends. Ruggles Hubbard of the Council, representing Woodworth's district, naturally inclined to his support, but Stranahan had no other interest in his candidacy than a desire to please Spencer. This left the Council a tie. There can be no question that Tompkins was in thorough accord with Van Buren's wishes, and that he regarded Spencer with almost unqualified dislike, but he was a candidate for President and naturally preferred keeping out of trouble. Nevertheless, when it required his vote to settle the controversy he gave it ungrudgingly to Van Buren. In selecting a secretary of state, the Governor applied the same rule. Spencer's friend, Elisha Jenkins, had previously held the office, and, like Woodworth, desired reinstatement; but Tompkins—tossing Jenkins aside and ignoring Samuel Young, speaker of the Assembly, who was promised and expected the office—insisted upon Peter B. Porter, now a hero of the Niagara frontier.
Spencer had long realised that Tompkins was turning against him. It is doubtful if the Governor ever felt a personal liking for this political meddling judge, although he accepted his services during the war with a certain degree of confidence. But now that hostilities were at an end, he proposed to distribute patronage along lines of his own choosing. Porter had recently been elected to Congress, and his presence in Washington would help the Governor's presidential aspirations, especially if the young soldier's friendship was sealed in advance by the unsolicited honour of an appointment as secretary of state. For the same reason, he desired the election of Nathan Sanford to the United States Senate to succeed Obadiah German. Spencer favoured John Armstrong, late secretary of war, and when the latter was thrust aside as utterly undesirable, the Judge announced his own candidacy. But Van Buren, resenting Spencer's opposition, skilfully resisted his claims until he grew timid and declined to compete "with so young a man as Mr. Sanford." Fourteen years divided their ages.