Chapter 24

BUCKTAIL AND CLINTONIAN

1817-1819

DeWitt Clinton had now reached the highest point in his political career. He was not merely all-powerful in the administration, he was the administration. He delighted in the consciousness that he was looked up to by men; that his success was fixed as a star in the firmament; and that the greatest work of his life lay before him. He was still in the prime of his days, only forty-eight years old, with a marvellous capacity for work. It is said that he found a positive delight in doing what seemed to others a wearisome and exhaustive tax upon physical endurance. "The canal," he writes to his friend, Henry Post, in the month of his inauguration, "is in a fine way. Ten miles will be completely finished this season, and all within the estimate. The application of the simple labour-saving machinery of our contractors has the operation of magic. Trees, stumps, and everything vanish before it."[191] The exceptional work and responsibility put upon him during the construction of his "big ditch," as his enemies sarcastically called it, might well have made him complain of the official burdens he had to bear; but neither by looks nor words did he indicate the slightest disposition to grumble. Nature had endowed him with a genius for success. He loved literature, he delighted in country life, he was at home among farmers, and with those inclined to science he analysed the flowers and turned with zest to a closer study of rocks and soils. No man ever enjoyed more thoroughly, or was better equipped intellectually to undertake such a career as he had now entered upon. His audacity, too, amazed his enemies and delighted his friends.

[Footnote 191: DeWitt Clinton's Letters to Henry Post, in _Harper's Magazine_, Vol. 50, p. 412.]

But Clinton had learned nothing of the art of political management either in his retirement or by experience. He was the same domineering, uncompromising, intolerant dictator, helpful only to those who continually sounded his praises, cold and distant toward those who acted with independence and spirit. He had made his enemies his footstool; and he now assumed to be the recognised head of the party whose destinies were in his keeping and whose fortunes were swayed by his will. It is, perhaps, too much to say that this was purely personal ambition. On the contrary, Clinton seems to have acted on the honest conviction that he knew better than any other man how New York ought to be governed, and the result of his effort inclines one to the opinion that he was right in the belief. At all events, it is not surprising that a man of his energy and capacity for onward movement should refuse to regulate his policy to the satisfaction of the men that had recently crushed him to earth, and who, he knew, would crush him again at the first opportunity. In this respect he was not different from Van Buren; but Van Buren would have sought to placate the least objectionable of his opponents, and to bring to his support men who were restless under the domination of others.

Clinton, however, did nothing of the kind. He would not even extend the olive branch to Samuel Young after the latter had quarrelled with Van Buren. He preferred, evidently, to rely upon his old friends--even though some of their names had become odious to the party--and upon a coterie of brilliant Federalists, led by William W. Van Ness, Jonas Platt, and Thomas J. Oakley, with whom he was already upon terms of confidential communication. He professed to believe that the principles of Republican and Federalist were getting to be somewhat undefined in their character; and that the day was not far off, if, indeed, it had not already come, when the Republican party would break into two factions, and, for the real business of statesmanship, divide the Federalists between them. Yet, in practice, he did not act on this principle. To the embarrassment of his Federalist friends he failed to appoint their followers to office, making it difficult for them to explain why he should profit by Federalist support and turn a deaf ear to Federalist necessities; and, to the surprise of his most devoted Republican supporters, he refused to make a clean sweep of the men in office whom he believed to have acted against him. He quickly dropped the Tammany men holding places in New York City, and occasionally let go an up-state politician at the instance of Ambrose Spencer, but with characteristic independence he disregarded the advice of his friends who urged him to let them all go.

Meanwhile, a change long foreseen by those who were in the inner political circle was rapidly approaching. At no period of American history could such a man as Clinton remain long in power without formidable rivals. No sooner, therefore, had the Legislature convened, in January, 1818, than Martin Van Buren, Samuel Young, Peter R. Livingston, Erastus Root, and their associates, began open war upon him. For a long time it had been a question whether it was to be Clinton and Van Buren, or Van Buren and Clinton. Van Buren had been growing every day in power and influence. Seven years before Elisha Williams had sneered at him as Little Matty. "Poor little Matty!" he wrote, "what a blessing it is for one to think he is the greatest little fellow in the world. It would be cruel to compel this man to estimate himself correctly. Inflated with pride, flattered for his pertness, caressed for his assurance, and praised for his impertinence, it is not to be wondered that in a market where those qualifications pass for evidence of intrinsic merit he should think himself great." Williams, great and brilliant as he was, could not bear with patience the supremacy which Van Buren was all too certainly obtaining. He struggled against him, intrigued against him, and finally hated and lampooned him, but the superiority of Van Buren's talents as a managing politician was destined to make him pre-eminent in the State and in the nation.

That Van Buren was not always honourable, the famous Fellows-Allen contest had recently demonstrated. Henry Fellows, a Federalist candidate for assemblyman in Ontario County, received a majority of thirty votes over Peter Allen, a Republican; but because the former's name appeared in his certificate as Hen. Fellows, the Bucktails, guided by Van Buren, seated Allen, whose vote was absolutely needed to elect a Republican Council of Appointment. Writing "Hen." for Henry was not error; it was not even an inadvertence. Van Buren knew that it stood for Henry as "Wm." did for William, or "Jas." for James. But Van Buren wanted the Council. It cannot be said that this action was inconsistent with the sentiment then governing the conduct of parties; for the maxim obtained that "everything is fair in war." Nevertheless, it illuminated Van Buren's character, and left the impression upon some of his contemporaries that he was a stranger to a high standard of political morality.

Probably DeWitt Clinton would have taken similar advantage. But in practical politics Clinton was no match for the Kinderhook statesman. Van Buren studied the game like a chess-player, taking knights and pawns with the ease of a skilful mover. Clinton, on the other hand, was an optimist, who believed in his destiny. In the performance of his official duties he mastered whatever he undertook and relied upon the people for his support; and so long as he stood for internal improvements and needed reform in the public service, he did not rely in vain. Force, clearness and ability characterised his state papers. For years he had been a student of municipal and county affairs; and, in suggesting new legislation, he exhibited rare judgment and absolute impartiality. A comprehension that sound finance had much to do with domestic prosperity, entered into his review of the financial situation--in its relation to the construction of the canals--indicating fulness of information and great clearness as to existing conditions. Clinton was honestly proud of his canal policy; more than once he declared, with exultation, that nothing was more certain to promote the prosperity of the State, or to secure to it the weight and authority, in the affairs of the nation, to which its wealth and position entitled it. Seldom in the history of an American commonwealth has a statesman been as prophetic. But in managing the details of party tactics--in dealing with individuals for the purpose of controlling the means that control men--he conducted the office of governor much as he did his candidacy for President in 1812, without plan, and, apparently, without organisation. With all his courage, Clinton must have felt some qualms of uneasiness as one humiliation followed another; but if he felt he did not show them. Conscious of his ability, and of his own great purposes, he seems to have borne his position with a sort of proud or stolid patience.

This inattention or inability to attend to details of party management became painfully apparent at the opening of the Legislature in January, 1818. Van Buren and his friends had agreed upon William Thompson for speaker of the Assembly. Thompson was a young man, warm in his passions, strong in his prejudices, and of fair ability, who had served two or three terms in the lower house, and who, it was thought, as he represented a western district, and, in opposition to Elisha Williams, had favoured certain interests in Seneca County growing out of the location of a new courthouse, would have greater strength than other more prominent Bucktails. It was known, also, that Thompson had taken a violent dislike to Clinton and could be relied upon to advance any measure for the latter's undoing. To secure his nomination, therefore, Van Buren secretly notified his partisans to be present at the caucus on the evening before the session opened.

The Clintonians had talked of putting up John Van Ness Yates, son of the former Chief Justice, a ready talker, companionable and brilliant, a gentleman of fine literary taste, with an up-and-down political career due largely to his consistent following of Clinton. But the Governor now wanted a stronger, more decided man; and, after advising with Spencer, he selected Obadiah German, for many years a leader in the Assembly, and until recently a member of the United States Senate, with such a record for resistance to Governor Tompkins, and active complicity with the Federalists who had aided his election to the Assembly, that the mere mention of his name to the Bucktails was like a firebrand thrown onto the roof of a thatched cottage. German himself doubted the wisdom of his selection. He was an old-time fighter, preferring debate on the floor to the wielding of a gavel while other men disputed; but the Governor, with sublime faith in German's fidelity and courage, and a sublimer faith in his own power to make him speaker, turned a deaf ear to the assemblyman's wishes. Had Clinton now conferred with his friends in the Legislature, or simply urged their presence at the caucus, he might easily have nominated German in spite of his record. On the contrary, he did neither, and when the caucus met, of the seventy-five members present, forty-two voted for Thompson and thirty-three for German. When too late Clinton discovered his mistake--seventeen Clintonians had been absent and all the Bucktails present. The great Clinton had been outwitted!

The hearts of the Bucktails must have rejoiced when they heard the count, especially as the refusal of the Clintonians to make the nomination unanimous indicated an intention to turn to the Federalists for aid. This was the one error the Bucktails most desired Clinton to commit; for it would stamp them as the regular representatives of the party, and reduce the Clintonians to a faction, irregular in their methods and tainted with Federalism. It is difficult to realise the arguments which could persuade Clinton to take such a step. Even if such conduct be not considered a question of principle, and only one of expediency, he should have condemned it. Yet this is just what Clinton did not do. After two days of balloting he disclosed his hand in a motion declaring Obadiah German the speaker, and sixty-seven members, including seventeen Federalists, voted in the affirmative, while forty-eight, including three Federalists, voted in the negative.

"The Assembly met on Tuesday," wrote John A. King to his father, on January 8, 1818, "but adjourned without choosing a speaker. The next day, after a short struggle, Mr. German was chosen by the aid of some of the Federalists. I regret to say that there are some of the Federal gentlemen and influential ones, too, who are deeply pledged to support the wanderings fortunes of Mr. Clinton. On this point the Federal party must, if it has not already, divide. Once separated there can be no middle course; a neutrality party in politics, if not an absurdity, at least is evidence of indecision. We are not yet declared enemies, but if I mistake not, the question of Council and the choice of a United States senator must, if these gentlemen persist, decide the matter irrevocably. Mr. W. Duer, Van Vechten, Bunner, Hoffman, and myself are opposed to Mr. W. Van Ness, Oakley, and J. Van Rensselaer. Mr. Clinton has found means to flatter these gentlemen with the prospect of attaining their utmost wishes by adhering to and supporting his administration."[192]

[Footnote 192: Charles R. King, _The Life and Correspondence of Rufus King_, Vol. 6, p. 102.]

Clinton committed the second great error of his life when he consented to bolt the caucus nominee of his party. It was an act of conscious baseness. He had not manfully put forward his strength. Instead of managing, he temporised; instead of meeting his adversaries with a will, he did nothing, while they worked systematically and in silence. Even then he need not have entered the caucus; but, once having voluntarily entered it, it was his plain duty to support its nominee. As a question of principle or expediency Clinton's conduct, therefore, admits of no defence. The plea that Van Buren had secretly assembled the Bucktails in force neither justifies nor palliates it; for the slightest management on Clinton's part would have controlled the caucus by bringing together fifty members instead of thirty-three, and the slightest inquiry would have discovered the weakness of having only thirty-three present instead of fifty.

Clinton professed to believe that the Federalists no longer existed as a party; and it is probably true that he desired to create a party of his own out of its membership, strengthened by the Clintonians, and to leave Tammany and its Bucktail supporters to build up an opposition organisation. But in this he was in advance of his time. Though the day was coming when a majority of the Clintonians and Federalists would make the backbone of the Whig party in the Empire State, a new party could not be built up by such methods as Clinton now introduced. New parties, like poets, are born, not made, and a love for principle, not a desire for spoils, must precede their birth. If Clinton had sincerely desired a new organisation, he should have disclaimed all connection with the Republican or Federalist, and planted his standard on the cornerstone of internal improvements, prepared to make the sacrifice that comes to those who are tired of existing conditions and eager for new policies and new associations. But Clinton was neither reformer nor pioneer. He loved the old order of things, the Council of Appointment, the Council of Revision, the Constitution of 1777 as amended by the convention of 1801, and all the machinery that gave power to the few and control to the boss. He had been born to power. From his first entrance into the political arena he had exercised it--first with the help of his uncle George, afterward with the assistance of his brother-in-law, Ambrose Spencer; and now that he had swung back into power again by means of his canal policy, he had no disposition to let go any part of it by letting go the Republican party. What Van Buren got from him he must take by votes, not by gifts.

Clinton's flagrant violation of the caucus rule, that a minority must yield to the majority, not only broke the Republican party into the famous factions known as Clintonians and Bucktails; it alarmed local leaders throughout the State; made the rank and file distrustful of the Governor's fealty, and consolidated his enemies, giving them the best of the argument and enabling Van Buren to build up an organisation against which the Governor was ever after compelled to struggle with varying fortune. Indeed, in the next month, Van Buren so managed the selection of a Council that it gave Clinton credit for controlling appointments without the slightest power of making them, so that the disappointed held him responsible and the fortunate gave him no thanks. Following this humiliation, too, came the election, by one majority, of Henry Seymour, a bitter opponent of Clinton, to the canal commissionership made vacant by the resignation of Joseph Ellicott. The Governor's attention had been called to the danger of his candidate's defeat; but with optimistic assurance he dismissed it as impossible until Ephraim Hart, just before the election occurred, discovered that the cunning hand of Van Buren had accomplished his overthrow. "A majority of the canal commissioners are now politically opposed to the Governor," declared the Albany _Argus_, "and it will not be necessary for a person who wishes to obtain employment on the canal as agent, contractor or otherwise, to avow himself a Clintonian." This exultant shout meant that in future only anti-Clintonians would make up the army of canal employees.

But a greater _coup d'état_ was to come. Van Buren understood well enough that Clinton's strength with the people was not as a politician or Republican leader, but as a stubborn, indefatigable advocate of the canal; and that, so long as the Bucktails opposed his scheme, their control of appointments could not overthrow him. Van Buren, therefore, determined to silence this opposition. Just how he did it is not of record. It was said, at the time, that a caucus was held of Clinton's opponents; but, however it was done, it must have required all Van Buren's strength of will and art of persuasion to sustain him in the midst of so many difficulties--difficulties which were greatly increased by the unfriendly conduct of Erastus Root, and two or three senators from the southern district, including Peter Sharpe, afterward speaker of the Assembly. Yet the fact that he accomplished it, and with such secrecy that Clinton's friends did not know how it was brought about, showed the quiet and complete control exercised by Van Buren over the members of the Bucktail party. The _National Advocate_, edited by Mordecai Manesseh Noah, a conspicuous figure in politics for forty years and one of the most unrelenting partisans of his day, had supported Tammany in its long and bitter antagonism to the canal with a malevolence rarely equalled in that or any other day. He measured pens with Israel W. Clarke of the Albany _Register_, who had so ably answered every point that Noah charged their authorship to Clinton himself. But after Van Buren had spoken, the _Advocate_, suddenly, as if by magic, changed its course, and, with the rest of the Bucktail contingent, rallied to the support of Clinton's pet scheme with arguments as sound and full of clear good sense as the Governor himself could wish. The people, however, had good reason to know that statesmen were not all and always exactly as they professed to be; and the immediate effect of the Bucktail change of heart amounted to little more than public notice that the canal policy was a complete success, and that Tammany and its friends had discovered that further opposition was useless.