epublican leaders, and who excelled all other
public men in charm of manner.

Another leading Republican of the time, Albert Gallatin, recalled
Jackson afterwards as "a tall, lank, uncouth-looking personage, with
long locks of hair hanging over his face, and a cue down his back tied
in an eel-skin; his dress singular, his manners and deportment that of a
rough backwoodsman." Taking this with Jefferson's description of him, it
seems clear that he made no strong impression at Philadelphia, and found
himself out of place in the national legislature. Who, then, would have
dreamed that the accomplished Livingston should win his highest fame by
preparing a state paper for this unlettered person's signature; that
this rough backwoodsman should alone of all Americans surpass the
polished Burr in the charm of his manners; that Duane's little son
should one day be called by his father's unpromising acquaintance to a
place such as even Jefferson's friendship never conferred upon Duane
himself. Of all who knew Jackson in Washington, Burr seems to have had
the strongest hopes for his future.

Scant as are the traces of his labors as a legislator, even scanter are
the records of his career on the bench during the six years that
followed. The reports of the decisions of the Tennessee Supreme Court in
this period are extremely meagre; not one decision is preserved as
Jackson's. But the stories told of Judge Jackson, like the stories told
of the solicitor, the general, the president, are legion. One must
suffice. A gigantic blacksmith named Bean had committed a crime and the
sheriff dared not arrest him. "Summon me," said the judge, and himself
walked down from the bench, found the criminal, and arrested him. It was
while he was judge that his quarrel with John Sevier, who was again
governor in 1803, came finally to a head. Two years before, the two men
had been rivals for the office of major-general in the militia, and by a
single vote Jackson had won, so that he was both general and judge when
he and the governor met in what seemed likely to prove a fatal combat.
However, neither was killed, and the quarrel was patched up. In 1804
Judge Jackson resigned. He had not yet found his true place in the
public service. But he kept his commission in the militia, and those who
like to magnify the work of chance may argue that the single vote by
which he got that office determined his career.

But he had years to live before it was made plain