Chapter II (1)

Though the name of neither Hynson or his sweetheart figures in any of the serious histories of the day, only an unforeseen incident prevented his, at least, from being there recorded. Isabella’s influence was to change all his original program. It now remains to show how serious were the results of Hynson’s uncertain faith, and with what measure of plausibility Isabella Cleghorn may be called an actual though humble and unconscious factor in the creation of the American republic.

Hynson, as has already been stated, was a man possessed of ambition, self-confidence, and a love of intrigue. Half his heart’s desire was to see an early reconciliation of mother-country and colony; the other half to be himself the maker of the peace. His connection with the American Commission to Versailles he consequently regarded purely as a means to this end—his intimacy with the Commission’s affairs as a password to the confidence of Downing Street. Never fearing to match his own wit against that of two nations, he clung to the idea that England must be brought to offer to America acceptable terms of compromise before the conclusion of a Franco-American understanding should lend new courage to the rebellious colony. And English diplomatists astutely upheld his faith in his own powers of high accomplishment: “Ce Capitaine continue à voir le Ld. Stormont, qui lui fait l’accueil le plus capable de le flatter,” said Gérald, in his report of April 3, 1777. “Cet homme simple, honnête mais bien intentionné, en a la tête tournee et se croit destiné â être le pacificateur des deux nations.”

The first move in Hynson’s cloudy scheme involved the delivery to the British of certain valuable despatches going from the Commissioners to Congress. As bearer of these papers, which were to be placed in his hands by Franklin in person, the agent lay under orders to sail from Havre about March 10, in the cutter-sloop that he himself had smuggled over from Dover for the purpose. Lords North and Suffolk, being informed accordingly, despatched Lieut.-Col. Edward Smith to Havre, “furnished with £800 on account, in case it should become necessary to make use of money.” No sooner had Smith opened negotiations, however, than a new feature of the scheme developed. Hynson’s complaisance had its limits, and he utterly refused to turn over the despatches in simple barter. “Persuasion hangs not on my tongue to attain it,” wrote Smith. The precious papers must be forcibly wrested from their keeper, on the very deck of his vessel. Every interest, therefore, turned to that vessel’s capture.

“The sloop” [Smith told his principals across the Channel] “is hawl’d
up into the most private part of the harbour, and the King’s Dock. Men
are at work upon her with all expedition. I mean that she shall be
stuffed with everything that is good, to make her a better and more
valuable prize.... So tell your ships to be well apprized.... You had
better have sixty ships out than miss her.”

The Admiralty responded promptly. Vessels of war on Channel stations received minute instructions toward effecting so important a capture. No precaution was spared, yet in the event all proved vain, for Hynson was balked of his commission.

“A Schooner arrived in the Mean Time at Nantz from Baltimore,”
[explained Smith] “with News of the Hessian Misfortune, which
determined Messrs. Deane and Franklin to wait for more Events ... to
send their Despatches ... and to employ Hynson, on whose Courage &
Seamanship they place great Confidence, in some other Service.”

Foiled in his first design, Hynson now proceeded upon a new one—that of gathering from the Commission to Versailles such news of American affairs as, placed in British hands, might serve his object. Some of these gleanings he gave to Lord Stormont, in Paris, some he confided to Smith, “whom he met as often as they found it convenient,” and some travelled by post to England, under protection of the covers of Admiral Rodney, Hynson’s fellow-lodger in a Parisian inn.

“In doing this,” said Smith, whose relations with Hynson were always
most friendly, “he found the Character & Situation of the several
People with whom he has to do very favorable to his Purpose. Franklin
lives at a little Distance from Paris, but seldom passes a Day without
seeing Deane; the latter appears to be the More active & efficient
Man, but less circumspect and Secret, his Discretion not being always
proof against the natural Warmth of his temper & being weakened also
by his own Ideas of the importance of his present Employment. His
Residence is at the Hotel d’Hombourg, where he keeps a regular Table
for such of his Countrymen as are engaged in the service of the
Congress (Carmichael, Weeks, Hynson, Nicholson, Moyland, Franklin’s
Grandson, and others).... Hynson, who is a free, easy Fellow, & in
good Graces of the whole Party, has a real regard for Carmichael &
labours hard to draw him into the same system with himself.... It is
certainly material, if he succeeds. For tho’ both Deane and Franklin
may be, & are, according to Carmichael’s, account, too ambitious &
Determined (or, in other Words, too malevolent against Great Britain,)
ever to adopt any line of conduct short of American Independence, yet
Deane and Franklin can, in themselves, individually, do little, & if
they are betrayed by those whom they must employ, their Agency will
soon come to Disgrace & Despair.”

No ships bearing arms or stores left France for America unknown to the English Admiralty if Hynson’s diligence could prevent it. And Hynson’s diligence seldom slept. During all this period, Deane’s confidence in his agent never faltered. Toward the end of May, 1777, he wrote to John Hancock concerning him:

“——I must in duty to my Country say, I believe he will render ... good
service in the Navy, being a good Seaman, & of a cool, sedate, and
Steady Temper of mind.”

Again, on the 5th of September, he says: “I can answer for his fidelity,” of which confidence a conclusive proof shortly came forward. On the 7th of October Deane informed Hynson, then in Havre de Grace:

“The Commissioners are sending a packet to America & by this
conveyance Capt’n Folger has been wrote to, to take the charge of it
if not otherwise engaged, but as it is of importance that this packet
goes by safe hands, ... if he cannot go, ... I must depend on your
executing the commission.”

The story of the packet’s arrival at the little lodging-house in Havre where Folger and Hynson lived together is thus succinctly told by Lieut. Col. Smith:

“Folger being ready and willing to sail away with them immediately,
Hynson took an opportunity of sending Folger out upon some business in
the Docks, while he, slipping off the string which was intended to
secure the end of the packett, gott possession of the despatches, ...
and then, making up paper equal in length and thickness to what he had
taken out, he dextrously filled up the vacancy, shutt up the end of
the bundle, passed back again the same string; and upon Folger’s
returning with a Mr. Moyland, he had the bundle well cover’d, put in a
bag, seal’d and deliver’d it to Folger in presence of Moyland, never
to be given again out of Folger’s hands (unless to be thrown overboard
in case of meeting with one of our ships, or into the hands of those
they are directed for).”

“Leaving behind an excuse for his absence, skilfully prepared to hoodwink Deane, Hynson then hurried over to London, carrying the precious papers with him. Official England delighted in the prettiness of the trick.”

“Dear Eden,” [wrote the Earl of Suffolk]. “I am tickled with uncommon
pleasure ... at the neat manœuvre by which Hynson has ... proved
himself an honest Rascal. He well deserves his reward. I desire I may
communicate (the despatches) myself to Lord Mansfield.”

And Eden, in joy too great for formal phrases, informs the King’s self that Hynson “is an honest Rascal, and no fool.”

So it happened that poor, gulled Folger eventually delivered to Congress, with all due ceremony, a package of blank paper, and was cast into prison for his pains. Duplicate despatches sent out by the Commission soon after Folger’s departure were lost at sea, and in consequence of the two calamities no official intelligence reached Congress from France between May, 1777, and May 2, 1778, the day of the arrival of the French treaty.

As to the effect of this circumstance, Deane is somewhat explicit. Mentioning Hynson’s exploit as “the only instance of our having our despatches intercepted,” he continues:

“At the time of making out the despatches our prospects both in France
and in America were extremely discouraging. The Court of France
appeared to view our cause as absolutely desperate, and even the
appearance of what little countenance they had before shown us they
gave the most unequivocal proofs of their resolution to disavow and
leave us to our fate.... The Commissioners were at that time refused
any access to the Minister, even in the most secret manner.

“... The Commrs. had not, for some time previous to this date, sent
any information of their situation to Congress, for they scarcely knew
what to write, and hitherto they had said nothing in a discouraging
style, but, on the contrary, had said everything they could ... to
encourage Congress to persevere, and ultimately to expect aid from
France. In these (Folger’s despatches), though, ... they could not
avoid the mention of facts from which the most unfavourable
conclusions must have been drawn by Congress had Folger arrived with
the dps. instead of blank paper....

“... On the other hand, the British Ministers, from the contents of
those despatches and letters, found in what state we were with the
Court of Versailles.... This encouraged them to prosecute the war with
vigour, confident that it must soon terminate successfully on their
part.”

The result of Hynson’s plot, if Deane’s conclusions be accepted, was, therefore, directly contrary to his aim. By his diversion of the despatches, British hopes were raised and British offers of concession delayed until the critical moment had passed and America’s courage had risen beyond all thought of compromise. Thanks to Hynson’s intervention,

“when the Commissioners on the part of Great Britain eventually
arrived in America to propose terms of accommodation to Congress, no
discouraging intelligence had been received ... from the Commissioners
in Paris, and they (Congress) still relied on the effect which the
victory at Saratoga was expected to have in their favour. They were
not, as the event has shown, deceived.”

“In every age of the world,” Deane reflects, “many, if not most of the
greatest events, have been produced from the most trifling causes.”

A defensible, if not a profitable, argument might be brought forward to prove the “honest Rascal” the savior of the republic. And, to split a hair still finer, Isabella Cleghorn might, by the same token, be hailed as that savior’s inspiration.

Lord Stormont believed in Hynson’s sincerity as would-be conciliator of the contending powers. Deane, despite heavy evidence, was never perhaps wholly convinced of his agent’s venality. And Hynson himself again and again protested to Smith:

“My motives are not interest,” or, “while ever there is a prospect of
the disputes being settled I shall still be in hopes.”

Is the secret of these contradictions to be found in Smith’s sly, early hint:

“He has a connection in England which he is anxious to resume?”

And in Hynson’s own words to Isabella:

“My dear girl, if I have success I shall be able to receive you with
open Arms.”

Certainly the King’s gift of a round sum in cash, a pension of £200 yearly, and, if Deane be right, a rank in the English navy, placed that consummation well within his reach, while his ensuing desertion of the stirring life that his soul had loved and retirement into country solitude pointed strongly toward a master motive satisfied. Samson was shorn and drawn into paths of inglorious peace. “God knows what he does!” said a wondering witness. “He dwells with his wife in a little country house, a quarter of a mile out the town.”

KATHERINE PRENCE.

_Evening Post, N. Y._

CIVIL WAR SKETCHES.
CONFEDERATE FINANCE IN ALABAMA

BANKS AND BANKING

In a circular letter dated December 4, 1860, addressed to the banks, Governor Moore announced that should the State secede from the Union, as seemed probable, $1,000,000 in specie or its equivalent, would be needed by the administration. The State bonds could not be sold in the North, nor in Europe except at a ruinous discount, and a tax on the people at this time would be inexpedient. Therefore he recommended that the banks hold their specie. Otherwise there would be a run on them and should an extra session of the Legislature be called to authorize the banks to suspend specie payments, such action would produce a run and thus defeat the object. He requested the banks to suspend specie payments, trusting to the convention to legalize this action.[1] The Governor then issued an address to the people stating his reasons for such a step. It was done, he said, at the request and by the advice of many citizens whose opinions were entitled to respect and consideration. Such a course, they thought, would relieve the banks from a run during the cotton season, enable them to aid the State, do away with the expense of a special session of the Legislature, prevent the sale of State bonds at a great sacrifice, and prevent extra taxation of the people in time of financial crisis.[2]

Three banks—the Central, Eastern, and Commercial—suspended at his request and made a loan of $200,000 in coin to the State. Their suspension was legalized later by an ordinance of the convention. The Bank of Mobile, and the Northern and the Southern Banks refused to suspend, though they announced that the State should have their full support. The Legislature passed an act in February, 1861, authorizing the suspension, on condition that the banks subscribe for 10-year State bonds at their par value. The bonds were to stand as capital, and the bills issued by the banks upon these bonds were to be receivable in payment of taxes. The amount which each bank was to pay into the Treasury for the bonds was fixed, and no interest was to be paid by the State on these bonds until specie payments were resumed. All the banks suspended under these acts, and thus the government secured most of the coin in the State.[3] In October, 1861, before all the banks had suspended, State bonds at par to the amount of $975,066.68 had been sold—all but $28,500 to the banks. By early acts specie payments were to be resumed in May, 1862, but in December, 1861, the suspension was continued until “one year after the conclusion of peace with the United States.” By this law the banks were to receive at par the Confederate Treasury notes in payment of debts, their notes being good for public dues. The banks were further required to make a loan of $200,000 to the State to pay its quota of the Confederate war tax of August 16, 1861. (The privilege of suspension was evidently worth paying for.[4])

The banking law was revised by the convention so that a bank might deposit with the State comptroller stocks of the Confederate States or of Alabama, receiving in return notes countersigned by the comptroller amounting to twice the market value of the bonds deposited. If a bank had on deposit with the comptroller under the old law any stocks of the United States, they could be withdrawn upon the deposit of an equal amount of Confederate stocks or bonds of the State. The same ordinance provided that none except citizens of Alabama and members of State corporations might engage in the banking business under this law. But no rights under the old law were to be affected. It was further provided that subsequent legislation might require any “free” bank to reduce its circulation to an amount not exceeding the market value of the bonds deposited with the comptroller. The notes thus retired were to be cancelled by the comptroller.[5] The suspension of specie payments was followed by an increase of banking business; note issues were enlarged; eleven new banks were chartered,[6] and none wound up affairs. They paid dividends regularly of from six to ten per cent. in coin, or Confederate notes, or in both. Speculation in government funds was quite profitable to the banks.

ISSUES OF BONDS AND NOTES

The convention authorized the General Assembly of the State to issue bonds to such amounts and in such sums as seemed best, thus giving the Assembly practically unlimited discretion. But it was provided that money must not be borrowed except for purposes of military defense, unless by a two-thirds vote of the members elected to each house; and the faith and credit of the State was pledged for the punctual payment of principal and interest.[7]

The Legislature hastened to avail itself of this permission. In 1861, a bond issue of $2,000,000 for defense, and not liable to taxation, was authorized at one time; at another, $385,000 for defense besides an issue of $1,000,000 in treasury notes receivable for taxes. Of the first issue authorized only $1,759,500 was ever issued. Opposition to taxation caused the State to take up the war tax of $2,000,000 (August 19, 1861), and for this purpose $1,700,000 in bonds were issued, the banks supplying the remainder. There was a relaxation in taxation during the war; paper money was easily printed, and the people were opposed to heavy taxes.[8]

In 1862, bonds to the amount of $2,000,000 were issued for the benefit of the indigent. The Governor was given unlimited authority to issue bonds and notes, receivable for taxes, to “repair the treasury,” and $2,085,000 in bonds was issued under this permit. These bonds drew interest at 6%, ran for 20 years, and sold at a premium of from 50% to 100%. Bonds were used both for civil and for military purposes, but chiefly for the support of the destitute. Treasury notes to the amount of $3,500,000 were issued, drawing interest at 5%, and receivable for taxes. The Confederate Congress came to the aid of Alabama with a grant of $1,200,000 for the defense of Mobile.[9] In 1863, notes and bonds for $4,000,000 were issued for the benefit of indigent families of soldiers, and $1,500,000 for defense; $90,000 in bonds was paid for the steamer _Florida_, which was later turned over to the Confederate government.[10] In 1864, $7,000,000 were appropriated for the support of indigent families of soldiers and an unlimited issue of bonds and notes was authorized.[11] In 1862, the Alabama Legislature proposed that each State should guarantee the debt of the Confederate States in proportion to its representation in Congress. This measure was opposed by the other States, and failed.[12] A year later a resolution of the Legislature declared that the people of Alabama would cheerfully submit to any tax, not too oppressive in amount or unequal in operation, laid by the Confederate government for the purpose of reducing the volume of currency and appreciating its value. The Assembly also signified its disapproval of the scheme put forth at the bankers’ meeting at Augusta, Georgia—to issue Confederate bonds with interest payable in coin and to levy a heavy tax of $60,000,000 to be paid in coin or in coupons of the proposed new issue.[13]

The Alabama treasury had many Confederate notes received in taxes. Before April 1, 1864, (when such notes were to be taxed one-third of their face value), these could be exchanged at par for 20-year 6% Confederate bonds. After that date the Confederate notes were fundable at 33⅓% of their face value only.[14] After June 14, 1864, the State treasury could exchange Confederate notes for 4% non-taxable Confederate bonds, or one-half for 6% bonds and one-half for new notes. The Alabama Legislature of 1864 arranged for funding the notes according to the latter method.[15] The Alabama Legislature of 1861 had made it lawful for debts contracted after that year to be payable in Confederate notes.[16] Later, a meeting of the citizens of Mobile proposed to ostracise those who refused to accept Confederate notes. Cheap money caused a clamor for more, and the heads of the people were filled with fiat money notions. The rise in prices stimulated more issues of notes. On February 9, 1861, $1,000,000 in State Treasury notes was issued and in 1862, there was a similar issue of $2,000,000 more. These State notes were at a premium in Confederate notes, which were discredited by the Confederate Funding Act of February 17, 1864. Confederate notes were eagerly offered for State notes, but the State stopped the exchange.[17] December 13, 1864, a law was passed providing for an unlimited issue of State notes redeemable in Confederate notes and receivable for taxes.

Private individuals often issued notes on their own account, and an enormous number was put into circulation. The Legislature, by a law of December 9, 1862, prohibited the issue of “shin-plaster” or other private money under penalty of $20 to $500 fine, and any person circulating such money was to be deemed the maker. It was not successful, however, in reducing the flood of private tokens; the credit of individuals was better than the credit of the government.

Executors, administrators, guardians, and trustees were authorized to make loans to the Confederacy, and to purchase and receive for debts due them bonds and Treasury notes of the Confederacy and of Alabama, and the interest coupons of the same. One-tenth of the Confederate $15,000,000 loan of February 28, 1861 was subscribed in Alabama.[18] In December 1863, the Legislature laid a tax of 37½% on bonds of the State and of the Confederacy unless the bonds had been bought directly from the Confederate government or from the State.[19] This was to punish speculators. After October 7, 1864, the State Treasurer was directed to refuse to receive for taxes (except at a discount of ⅓) Confederate notes issued before the date of the Funding Act (Feb. 17, 1864). Later, Confederate notes were taken for taxes at their full market value.[20]

Gold was shipped through the blockade at Mobile to pay the interest on the State bonded debt held in London. It has been charged that this money was borrowed from the Central, Commercial, and Eastern Banks and was never repaid, recovery being denied on the ground that the State could not be sued.[21] But the banks received State and Confederate bonds under the new banking law in return for their coin. The exchange was willingly made, for otherwise the banks would have had to continue specie payments or forfeit their charters. And to continue specie payments meant immediate bankruptcy.[22] After the war, the State was forbidden to pay any debt incurred in aid of the war, nor could the bonds issued in aid of the war be redeemed. The banks suffered just as all others suffered, and it is difficult to see why the State should make good the losses of the banks in Confederate bonds, and not make good the losses of private individuals. To do either would be contrary to the Fourteenth Amendment.

The last statement of the condition of the Alabama Treasury was as follows:

Balance in Treasury, September 30, 1864 $3,713,959 Receipts, September 30, 1864 to May 24, 1865 3,776,188 --------- Total 7,490,147 Disbursements, September 30, 1864 to May 24, 1865 6,698,853 --------- Balance in Treasury 791,294

The balance was in funds as follows:

Checks on Bank of Mobile payable in Confederate notes $ 11,440 Certificate of deposit, Bank of Mobile, payable in Confederate notes 1,330 Confederate and State notes in Treasury 517,889 State notes, change bills (legal shin plasters) 250,004 Notes of State banks and branches 358 Bank notes 424 Silver 337 Gold on hand 497 Gold on deposit in Northern banks 35 --------- Balance $ 791,294

To dispose of nearly seven million dollars in small notes must have kept the Treasury very busy during the last seven months of its existence. It is interesting to note that the Treasury kept at work until May 24, 1865, six weeks after the surrender of General Lee.

THE PATROL AT BARNEGAT

[This famous poem—one of Whitman’s most vigorously descriptive, if not his best in this form of composition—is written on a quarto sheet, and signed: a few pencil corrections do not show in the print. The _MS._ was sold in New York in 1903.]

First Draught—May 1880 Walt Whitman
The Patrol at Barnegat
By Walt Whitman

Wild, wild the storm, and the sea high-running,
Steady the roar of the gale with incessant under tone muttering
Shouts of demoniac laughter fitfully piercing and pealing,
Waves, air, and midnight, their savagest trinity lashing,
Out in the shadows there, the milk-white combs careering,
On beachy slush and sand, spirts of snow fierce-slanting,
As, through the murk, the easterly death-wind breasting,
Through cutting swirl and spray, watchful and firm advancing,
(That in the distance! is that a wreck? is the red signal flaring?)
Slush and sand of the beach, tireless till daylight wending,
A group of dim, weird forms, snow-drift and night confronting,
Steadily, slowly, the hoarse roar never remitting,
Along the beach, by those milk-white combs careering,
That savage trinity warily watching
]

EARLY LEGISLATIVE TURMOILS IN NEW JERSEY

Pessimists point to the “frenzied politics” of our day as evidence of the facilis descensus Averni from the purity, the lofty and unselfish patriotism of the fathers; and they sigh over the decadence of the statesmen of these modern times, lament the corruption and essential dishonesty of parties and partisans in general, and yearn for a return of the purity and patriotism and statesmanship of the Fathers. The student of history, however, finds that human nature was and has been much the same through all the ages. The business contracts between merchants of Babylon, stamped on bricks five thousand years ago, and brought to light but yesterday, are in much the same terms as those settled in the courts to-day. The Code of Hammurabi, formulated 2200 B. C., shows in every sentence that like questions of rights and wrongs of persons and things were raised in that remote era as are discussed in the luminous pages of Blackstone, and determined in our own day in the fori of the several States, and in the Capitol at Washington. Is it possible, then, that the development of mankind has been on entirely different lines in the political arena? The thoughtful reader must say no. Freeman’s remark has become trite: “History is past politics, and politics past History.” The burning political issues of the Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions of 1799; the purchase of Louisiana; the Embargo of 1807–09; the annexation of Texas; the Oregon question, with its alluring alliteration “Fifty-four-forty or fight;” “Bleeding Kansas” and its other expressions, “Free Speech, Free Soil, Free Men;” Anti-Slavery, Abolitionism and Secession; the Greenback craze—not to speak of more recent partisan shibboleths—all were “politics” of the intensest sort in their day. All are now relegated to the background of “history,” to be studied in the cold _chiaro-oscuro_ of the past. And the men who led the forces marshaled against each other in those great conflicts.—Ah, “there were giants in those days!” Yes, but to their contemporaries they were merely politicians, too often opprobriously dubbed “political tricksters,” or even “traitors to their country.” What a lot of truth there is in the late Thomas B. Reed’s cynicism: “A statesman is a dead politician.”

The lust for power is one of the deepest instincts of the human mind. Civilization has not quenched it, but has merely directed it into new channels. Instead of the savage chieftain who once impressed his will on his fellow-tribesmen by tomahawk or flint-tipped arrow-head, or by terrifying shamanism, we have the statesman—“politician,” if you will—exercising his mastery by all the subtle arts which a keen intellect and a profound knowledge of men and the influences to which they are severally and collectively subject, can devise. Here is a splendid field for the orator, to persuade by his burning eloquence; for the leader, to show his mastery over men; for the partisan, to cajole with the promise of sordid spoil, or to threaten the recreant with loss of influence. There is a glorious zest in this pursuit of power, in this forging to the front as a leader of men. Admirable ambition, if inspired by worthy motives. Fascinating, most attractive, to every virile man. What wonder, if in this eager thirst for eminence among his fellows, the ardent leader becomes oblivious at times to the relative rights of meum and tuum? Success is his aim. He _must_ win. The future of his party, the welfare of his country, demands it. No time to palter over finical questions of what is proper, of what is right. “The end justifies the means.” Ah, facilis est descensus Averni, indeed.

All this by way of preliminary to a few gleanings from some old records of New Jersey, illustrating “past politics” principally in the days of that erstwhile Royal Province, under that unique Chief Executive, Lord Cornbury, who was foisted on the people by his amiable cousin, Queen Anne, doubtless glad enough of the chance to banish him by an ocean’s broad expanse from her Court. For a score of years New Jersey had been divided into two Provinces—East Jersey, largely controlled by the Scotch proprietors and their settlers; and West Jersey, dominated by the outwardly meek but inwardly determined Quakers. When the two Provinces were reunited into one—New Jersey—the profligate courtier, the ruffling gallant, the soldier of doubtful reputation, Lord Cornbury, of all men was chosen as the solvent to blend these and all the other antagonistic elements in the Province into one harmonious whole.

His troubles began with the first election of representatives to the General Assembly, held between August 13 and September 9, 1703. That body was to be composed of two members each from Perth Amboy and Burlington, and ten from each Division—twenty-four in all. (So long ago was ordained the exact political equality of East Jersey and West Jersey, which has been scrupulously maintained for two centuries, at least in the upper branch of the Legislature, regardless of the overwhelming preponderance of population now concentrated in what was formerly East Jersey). In the latter Division there appeared at the polls forty-two qualified voters in the interest of the Scotch Proprietors, a great part of them from New York and Long Island. “On behalfe of the Country there appear’d betwixt three & four hundred men qualifyed & had they thought necessary could have brought severall Hundred more.” But the High Sheriff (Thomas Gordon) appointed in the Scotch interest, “multiply’d Tricks, upon Tricks, till at last barefac’d he made ye returne contrary to the choice of the Country.” So too in West Jersey, the Quakers, though really in the majority only in Burlington County, “by their usuall application & diligence” secured the return of ten members. Lord Cornbury was intensely disgusted at so adverse a result, and complained to the Lords of Trade that “Severall persons very well qualified to serve, could not be elected, because they had not a thousand Acres of Land, though at the same time, they had twice the vallue of that Land, in money and goods, they being trading men, [while] on the other hand some were chosen because they have a thousand Acres of Land, and at the same time have not twenty shillings in money, drive noe trade, and can neither read nor write, nay they can not answer a question that is asked them, of this sort we have two in the Assembly.” However, the Royal Governor was prejudiced against the plebeian Jerseymen.

When the House met, November 10, 1703, a petition was presented, complaining of an undue election of five of the members returned for the Eastern Division. Sheriff Gordon, at his request, was furnished with a copy of the petition, and time was given him to answer it, and to send for such persons as he should find necessary for his defense. Gordon, by the way, was a member of the House from Perth Amboy, and so had a great advantage over his adversaries, as he could sit on his own case, and by judicious logrolling could influence votes in his own behalf. Nor is there anything in the records to show that he had the slightest hesitation in availing himself of his opportunities. Apparently he had doubts about the allegiance of one of his fellow-members, Richard Hartshorne, for on November 16, Messrs. Gordon and Reid were given permission to ask the Governor and Council whether Hartshorne was qualified to sit in the House, and to give their opinion thereon. The Governor advised Mr. Hartshorne to qualify himself as the law required (by the ownership of a thousand acres of land), but in the meantime the House ordered him to withdraw, until he should qualify himself, and he left his seat. The complaint against Gordon was taken up on November 16, and evidence produced on both sides on that and two succeeding days. Hartshorne was unseated on the 17th, and on the 18th it was voted that the evidence for the regularity and legality of the return made by Mr. Gordon was sufficient, and the petition was dismissed. The House declined, however, to allow the Sheriff his charges against the petitioners. It was also voted not to take any action against the clerks who took the poll at the election in Amboy, and who had refused to deliver them to the Sheriff. It is quite apparent that the House was pretty evenly divided between the friends and foes of the Sheriff-Assemblyman. It is not unlikely that Gordon’s finesse in unseating Hartshorne before the final vote was taken determined the result.

Governor Cornbury found the First Assembly so recalcitrant that he dissolved it, September 28, 1704, and a few days later issued writs for the election of a new Assembly, to meet at Burlington on November 9, 1704. His enemies charged that “The writs were issued and the Elections directed to be made, in such hast, that in one of the writs the Qualifications of the persons to be elected was omitted, and the Sheriff of one County not sworn till Three days before the Election, and many of the Townes had not any (much less due) notice of the day of Election.” Despite these extraordinary precautions of the Governor to have the elections controlled by his friends there was an adverse majority in the Second Assembly, when it met at Burlington on November 13, 1704, and organized the next day. How was this to be overcome? The way was quickly and readily devised. On November 15, Messrs. Thomas Revel and Daniel Leeds, two of Cornbury’s staunchest supporters in the Council, presented a petition to that body, questioning the right of Thomas Lambert, Thomas Gardiner and Joshua Wright to sit in the House. The Governor thereupon refused to swear in those three members-elect. The next day the petitioners asked for fourteen days’ time in which to show that these men lacked the requisite property qualification of 1,000 acres of land. The object in asking this long time was to outwear the patience of the Assembly. The same day (November 16) the members in question produced to the House copies of returns of surveys of lands possessed by them, and were given further time to make their qualifications more fully appear, the result being that on December 6 the House decided that each of the men owned a thousand acres of land, and voted unanimously to seat them. Lord Cornbury, however, still declined to administer to them the prescribed oath. The counties for which the three men were chosen to serve, with several other representatives, delivered an address to his Excellency for having them admitted, which, “mett with noe other Reception, than being called a piece of Insolence, and Ill manners.” By this exclusion a majority of one was gained for the Governor’s party, and he having secured such legislation as he most desired adjourned the Assembly, December 12, to meet April 27, 1705, leaving the three members-elect in question to cool their heels on the outside.

The House did not meet again until October 17, 1705. The Governor sent in a message commending sundry measures to be enacted. By this time the Assembly was ready to lock horns with his Excellency, and to stand on its rights. It was accordingly resolved that it should be “full” before considering his suggestions, and a committee was appointed to wait on him and ask him to admit the three excluded members. He parried the issue, but the House would none of his evasions, and decided to do no business until those three men were admitted. The Governor wanted an appropriation for his support, and was compelled to yield and swear in the men, who took their seats October 26, 1705. The Lords of Trade disapproved of his course in a letter of April 20, 1705: “We think, your Lordship will do well to leave the Determination about Elections of Representatives to that House, and not to intermeddle therein otherwise than by Issuing of Writs for any new Election.”

Does this incident remind one of the “Broad Seal War,” arising out of the action of the Governor of New Jersey issuing his certificate of election to five men as Members of Congress, in 1838, who were really in the minority, on the ground that the returns from certain townships (which would have changed the result) were not before him in due season? Or does it in any way recall the attempt of ten members of the New Jersey Senate to assume to be a majority of the twenty-one members of that body, in 1894?

The Third Assembly, which met at Perth Amboy, April 5, 1707, was also hostile to the Governor. Two of the members of his Council—the pugnacious Lewis Morris and the imperturbable, hard-headed Samuel Jenings, a Quaker—actually resigned from that body in order to be elected to the Assembly, where they could the better harass his Excellency. The Governor had assumed the right to appoint the Clerk of the House, in the person of one William Anderson, who incurred their dislike, and they resolved to get rid of him. How? By the simple expedient of resolving themselves into a committee of the whole, wherein from day to day they discussed the public business, and figuratively “cussed” the Governor. Of course, the committee had a right to choose its own clerk, and selected one of the members. Anderson did not like this, and insisted on his right and duty to sit with them. He imprudently admitted “y^t he was Sworn to discover Debates y^t were dangerous to y^e Goverm^t, & y^t he did not know but y^e Comittee were going to have such Debates, & y^rfore did turn him out.” The chairman promptly caught him on this indiscretion, and exclaimed, “Then you suppose we are going to have such Debates?” “It looks like it,” replied the clerk. The committee indignantly resolved that his refusal to withdraw from the committee of the whole was a “high Contempt, & a great Interruption of y^e public Affairs of the Province,” and that his words were a “Misdemeanor & a scandalous Reflection upon y^e Members of this House.” Here was a new grievance whereof to complain to the Governor, and in order to give him time to think it over the House adjourned for a week, and then sent a committee to ask him to appoint another clerk, who should be “a Residenter of this Province.” It may be readily imagined that the Governor was loth to lose the services of so faithful a henchman, but he was anxious for another appropriation and was obliged to give way, and named a new clerk. How impatient he must have been to get that Assembly “off his hands!” Have there not been Governors, yea, even Presidents, similarly embarrassed within our own recollection?

Now the Assembly had another rod in pickle for the Governor. It was whispered about that a fund had been raised to bribe him to favor certain measures in the interest of the Proprietors, and that many citizens had been virtually compelled to contribute toward this fund, under threats of serious inconvenience in various ways. The House determined to investigate these rumors, and sent out subpœnas for a large number of witnesses. One of the parties implicated was Capt. John Bowne, a member from Monmouth County. He was a man of resources, and when a certain witness came to town to testify against him he had the man arrested on a capias in a civil suit and sent to jail, where he was detained, all bail being refused. Whereupon the House (April 30, 1707) promptly expelled Bowne for “a Contempt and a breach of the privileges of this House,” _nem. con._ They moved more quickly in those days than even in this modern era of hustle.

The Governor’s exclusion of three members-elect from their seats was still a sore grievance to the House, and finally that body expressed itself in language the good sense and dignity of which excuse its eccentric orthography:

“We are too Sensably touched with that procedure not to know what must be the unavoydable Consequences of the Governor’s refusing to Sweare which of the Members of an Assembly he thinks fitt; but to take upon himselfe the power of Judging of the qualifications of Assemblymen, and to keep them out of the house (as the Governour did the afores^d three members nigh Eleven Months till he was satisfied in that point) after the house had declared them qualified, is so great a violation of the Lyberties of the people, So great a breach of the privileges of the house of Representatives, So much an assuring to himselfe a negative voyce to the freeholders Election of their Representatives, that the Governour is Intreated to pardon us if this is a Different treatment from what he expected; It is not the Effects of passionate heats or the Transports of Vindictive Tempers, but the Serious Resentments of a House of Representatives For a Notorious violation of the liberties of the people to whom they could not be just nor answer the trust reposed in them Should they declyne letting the Governor know they are Extremely Dissatisfied at so unkind a treatment Especially when its Causes and Effects Conspire to render it so disagreeable.”

Lord John Lovelace having succeeded Lord Cornbury as Governor of New Jersey, ordered an election for a new Assembly, which met at Perth Amboy March 3, 1708–9. They were not willing to forgive and forget, any more than are modern partisans. A fulsome address to the Queen had been adopted in 1707 by the gentlemen of the Council, praising Lord Cornbury, and assailing the House, and particularly Lewis Morris and Samuel Jenings, two of its members. The Assembly had got wind of this document, and now requested a copy from the new Governor, who caused it to be furnished to them and it was treasured up for future use.

The wheels of legislation rolled smoothly along for several weeks. There was a sudden jolt, however, on June 11, 1709, when the Council had the temerity to appoint a committee to inspect the journal of the House. The latter body at once retorted in kind, by appointing a committee to inspect the journal of the Council, and desired them to send their journal to the committee that afternoon! The Council of course objected, urging that their proceedings were secret; but the House insisted, and desired to have the journal sent down at seven o’clock the next morning.

And that was the last that was heard of either house attempting to “inspect” the minutes of the other. The Assembly—the representatives of the people—had again triumphantly asserted and maintained their independence.

The Fifth Assembly, which met and organized December 1, 1709, had a number of contested elections before it, which were in general decided in favor of the sitting members. The business of the session proceeded steadily and with unusual monotony until January 2, 1710, when it was enlivened by this incident: A certain bill having been referred to a committee, Mr. Lawrence, one of the members, reported that “they had blotted out the whole of the bill, except the title, which he thought was the best amendment they could make to it.” This seemed to be quite a joke, until the chairman complained that while the committee were discussing the measure Mr. Lawrence “Did contrary to his Consent blot out & Cancell the s^d bill and had left nothing remaining Except the title. And that M^r Gershom Mott another of the s^d Committee forcibly detained him when he would have departed the room whilst M^r Lawrence was blotting and Cancelling some part of the said Bill.” The House voted that the action of Messrs. Lawrence and Mott was a contempt, and ordered them to be brought before the bar “and there ask forgiveness, with an acknowledgement of the favour of the H^{os} that they were not Expelld the H^{os} & rendered uncapable for ever Serving in this H^{os} againe & other punish^{mts} which this H^{os} might inflict. And that they promise for the Future to behave themselves as becomes Members of this H^{os}.” The two practical jokers made the required amende and were allowed to resume their seats.

There was another break in the tedium of the session on January 5, when “M^r Sharp Complained that Cap^t George Duncan this morning, Early had called him out privately & drew his Sword upon him unawares he being unarmed, & made at him with his drawn Sword, upon which the said Sharp fled & was pursued by the s^d Cap^t Duncan who hee believes had a designe to kill him.

“And desired the protection of y^e h^{os}.”

Capt. Duncan was ordered into the custody of the sergeant-at-arms, and to be kept disarmed until further orders. There he was detained for six days, when, being apparently both sober and sorry, and having asked Mr. Sharp’s forgiveness, he was brought before the House, made his apologies all around and “promised to behave himself for the future as becom’s a Loyall Subject and a good member of this House,” and was allowed to take his seat.

The Assembly elected in 1716 was violently rent by factions for and against the impatient and impetuous Governor Robert Hunter. Col. Daniel Coxe, who had served for several years in the Council, was removed at Hunter’s request, and forthwith set about getting even. To that end he secured his election to the Assembly in 1714, having cleverly manipulated the “Swedish vote” on his immense paternal estates in the southern part of the Province. He was again chosen in February, 1716, from both Gloucester County and the town of Salem, although Sheriff William Harrison, of Gloucester, was accused of resorting to sharp practice to secure his defeat, by removing the polls several miles from the usual place of holding the election. Coxe declared to serve for Gloucester, and being chosen Speaker on April 4, lodged a complaint against Harrison, had him arraigned at the bar of the House, and by order of that body publicly reprimanded him. Governor Hunter was intensely disappointed at the result of the election, and prorogued the Assembly until May 7. On that day the members in opposition stayed away, to prevent a quorum, but after two weeks the friends of the Governor managed to get together thirteen members—a bare majority,—and elected John Kinsey Speaker in the absence of Coxe, and then proceeded to expel Coxe and his whole party for non-attendance, and moreover declared them incapable forever of sitting in that body. Several of them were re-elected, nevertheless, and were gently but firmly again expelled.

I might speak of the action of the West Jersey Assembly in 1685–6, when they “declared to y^e Governor y^t officers of State & Trust belong to them to nominate and appoint.” And to that other assertion of their independence when they refused to recognize the course of the Proprietors in appointing John Tatham as Governor. Even in the opening days of the Revolution, when the friends of the new government were welded by the force of circumstances into a harmonious body, strongly disposed to uphold the patriotic Governor, William Livingston, they nevertheless enunciated an important construction of the constitution, in 1778, in declaring void a patent granted by him, incorporating a church, after the manner of his Royal predecessors, and asserting that “the power of granting patents and charters of incorporation, under the present constitution, is vested solely in the Legislature of the State.”

Something has been said in this paper of the scandalous conduct of elections. It is gratifying to find a popular reaction as early as 1738, at least in Quaker Burlington, where, though the election was so vigorously contested as to require three days to conclude the polling, it was, notwithstanding, managed “in such a candid and peaceable Manner,” according to a newspaper of the day, “as gave no Occasion of Reflection to each other, nor was there any reaping of Characters, or using of Canes in a Hostile Manner on one another, being sensible that such a Practice is inconsistent with the Freedom which ought to Subsist in our Elections.” The inference is irresistible that the conduct of this canvass was in violent contrast with the usual practices.

I might also mention the passage of an act by the Legislature seventy years or so ago, providing for an increase in the membership of the Supreme Court, and then the appointment by the same Legislature of one of its own members to the office thus created! The appointee was an honor to the Bench, and ranked then and for thirty years afterwards as one of the most distinguished men in the land. But what would be thought of such a procedure to-day?

And speaking of courts, I do not recall anything in recent times to match the daring of the Monmouth County people, who on March 25, 1701, captured the Governor of East Jersey, two of his Councillors and two of his Justices, who were holding court for the trial of a townsman on a charge of piracy, he having confessed that he had been on a voyage with the famous Captain William Kidd, “as he sailed, as he sailed.” The people would not “stand for” judicial interference in a little thing like that, which brought plenty of “Arabian gold” to our coasts, and so, with grim humor and determination, they kept the Governor and his Court of Sessions, together with the Attorney-General and the Secretary of the Province, in close confinement for four days. As nothing further is said about the matter it is not unlikely that the prisoners were compelled to promise immunity to their captors before being released.

“They didn’t know everything down in Judee,”

chuckled Hosea Biglow in self-satisfied complacency. But from the few instances cited it is quite apparent that our honored forefathers, could they “revisit the pale glimpses of the moon,” would have little to learn from the modern “Boss” in the way of political audacity, chicanery or finesse.

“For ways that are dark
And tricks that are vain,”

the modern politician is much the same as his predecessor of two centuries ago. But in fact there has been a steady improvement in political methods. What appears to have been common in New Jersey in the early days of the eighteenth century—such as turning a Legislative minority into a majority—is so exceptional to-day as to excite general surprise, and more or less genuine indignation. In that State ten years ago it caused a political revolution.

The golden age of American politics does not lie in the past. It looms up brightly in the future.

All the patriots, all the statesmen who have ever lived in our land, are by no means dead. To-day there are more with us than ever. Perhaps when they have left this sublunary sphere as long as have Washington, Hamilton, Jefferson, Marshall, Webster, Calhoun, Clay and Benton—nomina clara et venerabilia!—future generations looking back upon the eminent men of this day, through the haze of a century, may see our contemporaries surrounded by as effulgent a glamour as that which to our eyes enshrines the worthies who guided the first steps of the Nation along the paths of sure and permanent progress. Let us have faith in the Republic, and in our present leaders, following where they lead aright, and leaving them when they go astray; remembering the golden rule in government, embodied in those matchless words:

“That all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their
Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

When the time comes that our people shall fully live up to that immortal Declaration we shall see before us and within reach the iridescent rainbow of our hopes, the harbinger of tranquility after the storms of past conflicts; then we shall have attained indeed in our political system and practices to the “golden age.”

WILLIAM NELSON.

PATERSON, N. J.

HITHERTO UNPUBLISHED POEM BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

[The MS. was recently sold at auction in New York.]