Chapter 25

RE-ELECTION OF RUFUS KING

1819-1820

Although Clinton's canal policy now dominated Bucktails as well as Clintonians, eliminating all differences as to public measures, the bitterness between these factions increased until the effort to elect a United States senator to succeed Rufus King resulted in a complete separation. The Clintonians had settled upon John C. Spencer, while the Bucktails thought Samuel Young, a decided friend of Clinton's canal policy, the most likely man to attract support. Both were representative men, and either would have done honour to the State.

John C. Spencer needed no introduction or advertisement as the son of Ambrose Spencer. He was a man of large promise. Everything he did he did well, and he had already done much. Though scarcely thirty-four years of age, he had established himself as a leading lawyer of the Commonwealth, whose strong, vigorous English in support of the war had found its way into Parliament as an unanswerable argument to Lord Liverpool's unwise policy, winning him an enviable reputation as a writer. Skilful in expression, adroit in attack, calm and resourceful in argument, with the sarcasm of the younger Pitt, he had presented American rights and British outrages in a clearer light than others, arousing his countrymen very much as the letters of Junius had quickened English political life forty years before. He made it plain that England's insistence upon the right to stop and search an American vessel, and England's persistent refusal to recognise a naturalised American citizen on board an American vessel, were the real causes of quarrel. "There is not an individual," said a leading British journal, "who has attended at all to the dispute with the United States, who does not see that it has been embittered from the first, and wantonly urged on by those who, for the sake of their own aggrandisement, are willing to plunge their country into all the evils portrayed by the American writer."

A single term in Congress had placed Spencer in the ranks of the leaders. He was trenchant in speech, forceful on paper, and helpful in committee. Intellectually, he took the place of the distinguished South Carolinian, just then leaving Congress to become Monroe's secretary of war, whose thin face and firm mouth resembled the New Yorker's. Spencer, like Calhoun, delighted in establishing by the subtlest train of philosophical reasoning the delicate lines that exposed sophistry and error, and made clear the disputed point in law or in legislation. The rhetorical drapery that gave Samuel Young such signal success found no place in Spencer's arguments or in his pamphlets; but to a logic that deeply penetrated his subject he added an ethical interest which captivated the mind, as his reasoning illuminated and made plain. He was a born fighter. Like his father, he asked no quarter and he gave none. His eye had the expression one sees in hawks and game-cocks. At twenty-eight, as district attorney of the five western counties of the State, he had become a terror to evil-doers, and it is said of him, at his old home in Canandaigua, that men, conscious of their innocence, preferred appealing to the mercy of the court than endure prosecution at his hands. Possibly he possessed the small affections which Disraeli thought necessary to be coupled with large brains to insure success in public life, yet his nature, in every domestic and social relation, was the gentlest and simplest. DeWitt Clinton did not always approve Spencer's political course. He thought him "an incubus on the party," "the political millstone of the west," and he attributed the occasional loss of Ontario and neighbouring counties "to his deleterious management." The austerity and haughtiness of his manner naturally lessened his popularity, just as his caustic pen and satirical tongue made him bitter enemies; but his strong will and imperious manner were no more offensive than Clinton's. Like Clinton, too, Spencer was ill at ease in a harness; he resented being lined up by a party boss. But, at the time he was talked of for United States senator, the intelligent action and tireless industry upon which his fame rests, had so impressed men, that they overlooked unpopular traits in their admiration for his great ability. People did not then know that he was to sit in the Cabinet of a President, and be nominated to a place upon the Supreme bench of the United States; but they knew he was destined to become famous, because he was already recognised as a professional and political leader.

The genius of Samuel Young had also left its track behind. He was not a great lawyer, but his contemporaries thought him a great man. He combined brilliant speaking with brilliant writing. The fragments of his speeches that have been preserved scarcely hint at the extraordinary power accorded them in the judgment of his neighbours. It is likely that the magic of presence, voice, and action, exaggerated their merits, since he possessed the gifts of a trained orator, rivalling the forceful declamation of Erastus Root, the mellow tones and rich vocabulary of William W. Van Ness, and the smoothness of Martin Van Buren. But, if his speeches equalled his pamphlets, the judgment of his contemporaries must be accepted without limitation. Chancellor Kent objected to giving joint stock companies the right to engage in privateering, a drastic measure passed by the Legislature of 1814 in the interest of a more vigorous prosecution of the war; and in his usual felicitous style, and with much learning, the stubborn Federalist pronounced the statute inconsistent with the spirit of the age and contrary to the genius of the Federal Constitution. Young replied to the great Chancellor in a series of essays, brilliant and readable even in a new century. He showed that, although America had been handicapped by Federalist opposition, by a disorganised army, and by a navy so small that it might almost as well have not existed, yet American privateers--outnumbering the British fleet, scudding before the wind, defying capture, running blockades, destroying commerce, and bearing the stars and stripes to the ends of the earth--had dealt England the most staggering blow ever inflicted upon her supremacy of the sea. This was plain talk and plain truth; and it made the speaker of the Assembly known throughout the State as "the sword, the shield, and the ornament of his party." Young was as dauntless as Spencer, and, if anything, a more distinguished looking man. He was without austerity and easy of approach; and, although inclined to reticence, he seemed fond of indulging in jocular remarks and an occasional story; but he was a man of bad temper. He fretted under opposition as much as Clinton, and he easily became vindictive toward opponents. This kept him unpopular even among men of his own faction. Clinton thought him "much of an imbecile," and suggested in a letter to Post that "suspicions are entertained of his integrity."[193] Yet Young had hosts of friends eager to fight his political battles.

[Footnote 193: DeWitt Clinton's Letters to Henry Post, in _Harper's Magazine_, Vol. 50, p. 417.]

The Bucktails had no serious expectation either of nominating or electing Samuel Young to the United States Senate. They knew the Clintonians had a majority, and their purpose, in attending the caucus, was simply to prevent a nomination. No sooner had the meeting assembled, therefore, than several Bucktails attacked the Governor, reproaching him for the conduct of his followers and severely criticising his political methods and character. To this German retorted with great bitterness. German made no pretensions to the gift of oratory; he had neither grace of manner nor alluring forms of expression. On the contrary, there was a certain quality of antagonism in his manner, as if he took grim satisfaction in letting fly his words, seemingly almost coldly indifferent to their effect; and on this occasion his sledge-hammer blows gave Peter R. Livingston, evidently acting by prearrangement, abundant chance for forcing a quarrel. In the confusion that followed, the caucus hastily adjourned amid mutual recriminations. When too late to mend matters the Clintonians discovered the trick. They had the majority and could easily have named Spencer as the candidate of the party, but in the excitement of German's speech and Livingston's attack they lost their heads. Thus ended forever all caucus relationship between these warring factions, and henceforth they were known as two distinct parties.

At the joint session of the Legislature, on February 2, 1819, the Clintonians gave Spencer sixty-four votes, while Young received fifty-seven, and Rufus King thirty-four. "A motion then prevailed to adjourn," wrote John A. King to his father, "so that this Legislature will make no choice." Young King, a member of the Assembly, was looking after his father's re-election to the Senate. He deeply resented Clinton's control of the Federalists, because it made his father a leader only in name; and to show his dislike of Federalist methods he associated and voted with the Bucktails. Nor did the father dislike Clinton less than the son. Rufus King had felt, what he was pleased to call "the baleful influence of the Clintons," ever since his advent into New York politics. They had opposed the Federal Constitution which he, as a delegate from Massachusetts, helped to frame; they assisted Jefferson in overwhelming Hamilton; and they benefited by the election trick which defeated John Jay. For more than two decades, therefore, Rufus King had watched their control by methods, which a man cast in a mould that would make no concessions to his virtue, could not approve. Under his observation, DeWitt Clinton had grown from young manhood, ambitious and domineering, accustomed to destroy the friend who got in his way with as much ease, apparently, as he smote an enemy. Hence King regarded him much as Hamilton did Aaron Burr; and against his candidacy for President in 1812, he used the argument that the great Federalist had hurled against the intriguing New Yorker in 1801. He rejoiced that Clinton lost the mayoralty in 1815; that he was defeated for elector in 1816; and he deeply regretted his election as governor in 1817.

On his part, Clinton had little use for Rufus King; but his need of Federalist votes made him excessively cautious about appearing to oppose the distinguished Senator; although a deep-laid scheme, understood if not engineered by Clinton, existed to defeat him. John King assured his father that Clinton, inviting Joseph Yates to breakfast, urged him to become a candidate; and that William W. Van Ness had asked Chancellor Kent to enter the race. "I entertain not the slightest doubt," he continued, referring to Van Ness, "of being able to produce such testimony of his hypocrisy and infidelity as will require more art than ever he is master of to explain or escape from."[194]

[Footnote 194: Charles R. King, _Life and Correspondence of Rufus King_, Vol. 6, p. 251.]

As the time approached for the reassembling of the Legislature, in January, 1820, these machinations of Clinton caused his opponents many an uneasy hour. The Bucktails, who could not elect a senator of their own, would not take a Clintonian, and an alliance between Clinton and the Federalists, led by Van Ness, Oakley, and Jacob R. Van Rensselaer, threatened to settle the question against them. Van Buren favoured King, although the Administration at Washington thought his election impolitic, because of its effect upon the party in the State; but Van Buren showed great firmness. His party was violently opposed to King. Van Buren, too, was growing tired of the strain of maintaining the leadership of one faction without disrupting the other. But so sure was he of the wisdom of King's support that he insisted upon it, even though it sacrificed his leadership. "We are committed to his support," he wrote. "It is both wise and honest. Mr. King's views toward us are honourable and correct. I will put my head on its propriety."[195]

[Footnote 195: Edward M. Shepard, _Life of Van Buren_, p. 71.]

Van Buren wanted to share in the division of the Federalists; and to refuse them a United States senator, when Clinton had recently given them an attorney-general, an influential, and, at that time, a most lucrative office, struck him as poor policy--especially since John A. King and other estimable gentlemen had evidenced a disposition to join them. Two weeks before the Legislature assembled, therefore, an unsigned letter, skilfully drawn, found its way into the hands of every Bucktail, summing up the reasons why they could properly support Rufus King. After recalling his Revolutionary services, this anonymous writer declared that support of King could not subject Bucktails to the suspicion of a political bargain, since the Senator had neither acted with the Federalists who had shown malignity against the Administration, nor with that numerous and respectable portion who ignorantly thought the war impolitic; but rather with those who aided in forcing England to respect the rights of American citizens. It was a cunning letter. There was rough and rasping sarcasm for the Clintonians; an ugly disregard for the radical Federalist; a kind word for the mere party follower, and winning speech for the gifted sons who had risen superior to inherited prejudices. The concluding declaration to the Bucktails was that King merited support because he and his friends opposed Governor Clinton's re-election, the assertion being justified by reference to John King's vote against German and the Clinton Council.

Of the authorship of this remarkable paper, there could be no doubt. William L. Marcy had aided in its preparation; but the hand of Van Buren had shaped its character and inspired its winning qualities. It had the instant effect that Van Buren plainly invoked for it--the unanimous election of Rufus King. Perhaps, on the whole, nothing in Van Buren's official life showed greater political courage or discernment. It is not so famous as his Sherrod Williams letter of 1836, or the celebrated Texas letter with which he faced the crisis of 1844, but it ranks with the public utterances of those years when he took the risk of meeting living issues that divided men on small margins. There was a strength and character about it that seemed to leave men powerless to answer. Clintonians objected to King, many Bucktails opposed him, Van Ness declared that he could easily be defeated, Thomas J. Oakley recognised him as the candidate of a man who spoke of Clinton and his Federalist allies as profligates and political blacklegs. Yet they all voted for Rufus King. Van Buren made up their minds for them; and, though protesting against the duplicity of Bucktail, the cowardliness of Federalist, and the timidity of Clintonian, each party indorsed him, while proclaiming him not its choice.

But Rufus King was not an ordinary candidate. His great experience and exalted character, coupled with his discriminating devotion to the best interests of the country, yielded strength that no other man in the State could command. He was now about sixty years of age, and, of living statesmen, he had no superior. His life had been a pure one, and his public acts and purposes, measured by the virtues of patriotism, honesty and integrity, entitled him to the respect and lasting gratitude of his fellow citizens. The taste for letters which characterised his Harvard College days, followed him into public affairs, and if his style lacked the simplicity of Madison's and the prophetic grasp and instinctive knowledge of Hamilton, he shared their clearness of statement and breadth of view. He displayed similar capacity in administration and in keeping abreast of the times. Although a lifelong member of the Federal party, whose leadership in New York he inherited upon the death of its great founder, he supported the War of 1812 with zeal, giving no countenance to the Hartford Convention if he did not openly oppose it, and promising nothing in the way of aid that he did not amply and promptly fulfil. At the supreme moment of the crisis, in 1814, when the general government needed money and the banks would loan only upon the indorsement of the Governor, he pledged his honour to support Tompkins in whatever he did.

To the society of contemporaries, regardless of party, King was always welcome. He disliked a quarrel. It seemed to be his effort to avoid controversy; and when compelled to lead, or to participate conspicuously in heated debate, he carefully abstained from giving offence. Benton bears testimony to his habitual observance of the courtesies of life. Indeed, his urbanity made a deep impression upon all his colleagues. Yet King was not a popular man. The people thought him an aristocrat; and, although without arrogance, his appearance and manner gave character to their opinion. His countenance inclined to austerity, forbidding easy approach; his indisposition to talk lent an air of reserve, with the suggestion of coldness, which was unrelieved by the touch of amiability that commended John Jay to the affectionate regard of men. It was his nature to be serious and thoughtful. Among friends he talked freely, often facetiously, becoming, at times, peculiarly instructive and fascinating, as his remarkable memory gave up with accuracy and facility the product of extensive travel, varied experiences, close observation, and much reading. His statements, especially those relating to historical and political details, were rarely questioned. We read that he was of somewhat portly habit, above the middle size, strongly made, with the warm complexion of good health, large, attractive eyes, and a firm, full mouth; that, although men no longer chose to be divided sharply by marked distinction of attire, he always appeared in the United States Senate in full dress, with short clothes, silk stockings and shoes--having something of pride and hauteur in his manner that was slightly offensive to plain country gentlemen, as well as inconsistent with the republican idea of equality. Wealthy, he lived at Jamaica, in a stately mansion, surrounded by noble horse chestnut trees, an estate known as King Park, and kept at public expense as a typical Long Island colonial homestead.

It is possible that the extension of slavery into Missouri influenced King's return to the United States Senate; for the election occurred in the midst of that heated contest, a contest in which he had already taken a conspicuous part in the Fifteenth Congress, and in which he was destined to earn, in still greater degree, the commendation of friends, outside and inside the Senate, as the champion of freedom. But whatever the cause of his election, it is certain that it was free from suspicion, other than that he preferred Van Buren to Clinton--a choice which necessarily created the impression that King's prejudice against Clinton resulted more from jealousy than from aversion to his character. No doubt Clinton's ability to dominate Federalist support, in spite of King's opposition, wounded the latter's pride and created a dislike which gradually deepened into a feeling of resentment. It had practically left him without a party; and he turned to Van Buren very much as Charles James Fox turned to Lord North in 1782. He cheerfully accepted the most confidential relations with the Kinderhook statesman, and when, a year or two later, Van Buren joined him in the United States Senate, Benton observed the deferential regard paid by Van Buren to his venerable colleague, and the marked kindness and respect returned by King. Yet King did not openly ally himself with the Bucktails. They could rely with certainty upon his support to antagonise Clinton, but he declined to join a party whose character and principles did not promise such companionship as he had been accustomed to.