It is against this self-sufficient attitude of the rusty Schuyler touching locked senate doors that Aaron wages war. He urges that, in a republic, but two keys go with government; one is to the treasury, the other to the jail. He argues that not even a senate will lock a door unless it be either ashamed or afraid of what it is about. “Of what is our Senate afraid?” he asks. “Of what is it ashamed? I cannot answer these questions; the people cannot answer them. I recommend that those who are interested ask General Schuyler.” The public puts the questions to the rusty Schuyler. Not receiving an answer, the public carries the questions to the legislature, where the Clinton and Livingston influences come sharply to the popular support. “Shall the Senate lock its door?” The Clintons say No; the Livingstons say No; the people say No. Under such overbearing circumstances, the legislature feels driven to say No; and, as a best method of saying it, elects to the Senate Aaron, who is a “door-opener,” over the rusty Schuyler, who is a “door-closer,” by a majority of thirteen. It is no longer “Aaron Burr,” no longer “Colonel Burr,” it is “Senator Burr.” The news heaps the full weight of ten years on the rusty Schuyler. As for son-in-law Hamilton, the blasting word of it withers and makes sick his heart. CHAPTER XI--THE STATESMAN FROM NEW YORK THE shop of government has been moved to Philadelphia. In the brief space between the overthrow of the rusty Schuyler by Aaron, and the latter taking his seat, the great ones talk of nothing but that overthrow. Washington vaguely and Jefferson clearly read in the victory of Aaron the beginning of a new order. It is extravagantly an hour of classes and masses; and the most dull does not fail to make out in the Senate unseating of the rusty but aristocratic Schuyler a triumphant clutch at power by the masses. Something of the sort crops up in conversation about the President’s dinner table. The occasion is informal; save for Vice-President Adams, those present are of the Cabinet. Washington himself brings up the subject. “It is the strangest news!” says he--“this word of the Senate success of Colonel Burr.” Then, appealing to Hamilton: “Of what could your folk of New York have been thinking? General Schuyler is a gentleman of fortune, the head of one of the oldest families! This Colonel Burr is a young man of small fortune, and no family at all.” “Sir,” breaks in Adams with pompous impetuosity, “you go wide. Colonel Burr is of the best blood of New England. His grandsire was Jonathan Edwards; on his father’s side the strain is as high. You would look long, sir, before you discovered one who has a better pedigree.” “Whatever may be the gentleman’s pedigree,” retorts Hamilton splenetically, “you will at least confess it to be only a New England pedigree.”