It was a great triumph for Clinton. He went to Albany a political outcast, he returned to New York gilded with the first rays of a new and rising career, destined to be as remarkable as the most romantic story belonging to the early days of the last century. To make his success the more conspicuous, it became known, before the legislative session ended, that his quarrel with Spencer had been settled. Spencer's wife, who was Clinton's sister, had earnestly striven to bring them together; but neither Spencer nor Clinton was made of the stuff likely to allow family affection to interfere with the promotion of their careers. As time went on, however, it became more and more evident to Spencer that some alliance must be formed against the increasing influence of Van Buren and Tompkins; and, with peace once declared with Clinton, their new friendship began just where the old alliance left off. In an instant, like quarrelling lovers, estrangement was forgotten and their interests and ambitions became mutual. Of all Clinton's critics, Spencer had been the meanest and fiercest; of all his friends, he was now the warmest and most enthusiastic. To turn Clinton's enemies into friends was as earnestly and daringly undertaken by Spencer, as the old-time work of turning his friends into enemies; and before the summer of 1816 had advanced into the sultry days of August, Spencer boldly proclaimed Clinton his candidate for governor to take the place of Tompkins, who was to become Vice President on the 4th of March, 1817. It was an audacious political move; and one of less daring mind might well have hesitated; but it is hardly too much to say of Spencer, that he combined in himself all the qualities of daring, foresight, energy, enterprise, and cool, calculating sagacity, which must be united in order to make a consummate political leader.