CHAPTER V. The Democratic Triumph

THE DEMOCRATIC TRIUMPH

Monroe's Administration drew to a close in a mellow sunset of popular approval. But no prophetic genius was required to foresee that clouds of discontent and controversy would hang heavy about the head of his successor. Adams certainly did not expect it to be otherwise. "Prospects are flattering for the immediate issue," he recorded in his diary shortly before the election, "but the fearful condition of them is that success would open to a far severer trial than defeat." The darkest forebodings were more than realized. No one of our chief executives, except possibly Andrew Johnson, was ever the target of more relentless and vindictive attacks.

Adams was, in the first place, a minority President. Jackson's popular vote was probably larger; his electoral vote was certainly so; and the vote in the House of Representatives was at the last moment swung to Adams only by certain unexpected and more or less accidental developments. By thus receiving his office at the hands of a branch of Congress, in competition with a candidate who had a wider popular support, the New Englander fell heir to all the indignation that had been aroused against congressional intrigue, and especially against the selection of a President by Congressmen.

There was, in addition, the charge of a "corrupt bargain." It mattered not greatly whether the accusation was true or not. The people widely accepted it as true, and the Administration had to bear the stigma. "The coalition of Blifil and Black George, of the Puritan and the black-leg," John Randolph called the new alliance; and while Clay sought to vindicate his honor in a duel with the author of the phrase, nothing that he or Adams could do or say was able to overcome the effect upon the public mind created by the cold fact that when the Clay men turned their support to Adams their leader was forthwith made Secretary of State.

A further source of difficulty in the situation was the temperament of Adams himself. There was no abler, more honest, or more patriotic man in public life; yet in the presidency he was, especially at this juncture of affairs, a misfit. He was cold and reserved when every consideration called for cordiality; he was petulant when tolerance and good humor were the qualities most needful. He could neither arouse enthusiasm nor win friends. He was large visioned and adept at mapping out broad policies, but he lacked the elements of leadership requisite to carry his plans into effect. He scorned the everyday arts of politics, and by the very loftiness of his ideals he alienated support. In short, as one writer has remarked, he was "a weigher of scruples and values in a time of transition, a representative of old-school politics on the threshold of triumphant democracy. The people did not understand him, but they felt instinctively that he was not one of themselves; and, therefore, they cast him out." Nobody had ever called him "Old Hickory" or any other name indicative of popular endearment.

Clay's appointment as Secretary of State was thoroughly typical of the independent, unyielding attitude of the new Administration. Adams had not the slightest sympathy with the idea of rotation in public position: such a policy, he said, would make government "a perpetual and unremitting scramble for office." He announced that there would be no removals except such as complaint showed to be for the good of the service, and only twelve removals took place during his entire term. The spoilsmen argued and fumed. The editor of an administration newspaper warmly told the President that in consequence of his policy he would himself be removed as soon as the term for which he had been elected had expired. But entreaties and threats were alike of no avail. Even Clay could not get the removal of a naval officer guilty of unbecoming conduct. In his zeal for nonpartizanship Adams fairly leaned backwards, with the result that incompetents were shielded and the offices were left in the hands of men who, in a very large number of cases, were openly hostile to the President and to his policies.

"Less possessed of your confidence in advance than any of my predecessors," wrote Adams in his first message to Congress, "I am deeply conscious of the prospect that I shall stand more and oftener in need of your indulgence." In the principles and measures which he urged upon the legislative branch, none the less, he showed small regard for moderation or expediency. He defined the object of government to be the improvement of the condition of the people, and he refused to recognize in the federal Constitution restrictions which would prevent the national authorities from fulfilling this function in the highest degree. He urged not only the building of roads and canals but the establishment of a national university, the support of observatories, "the light-houses of the skies," and the exploration of the interior and of the far northwestern parts of the country. He advocated heavy protective duties on goods imported from abroad, and asked Congress to pass laws not alone for the betterment of agriculture, manufactures, and trade but for the "encouragement of the mechanic and of the elegant arts, the advancement of literature, and the progress of the sciences, ornamental and profound." He thought that the public lands should be sold at the highest prices they would bring and that the money should be used by the Government to promote the general welfare. He had no doubt of either the power or the duty of the Government to maintain a national bank.

Since the War of 1812 the Republicans, with whom Adams had been numbered, had inclined strongly toward a liberal construction of the Constitution, but none had gone to the limits marked out in this program. Besides, a strong reaction was now setting in. The President's recommendations were received in some quarters with astonishment, in some rather with amusement. Nowhere were they regarded, in their entirety, with favor. Even Clay--spokesman of nationalism though he was--could not follow his chief in his untrammeled flights. Men still widely believed that the National Government ought to spend money freely on highways, canals, and other improvements. But by his bold avowals Adams characteristically threw away support for both himself and his cause; and the era of federal initiative and management was thus hastened toward its close.

No one who knew Jackson and his political managers expected them to accept the anomalous electoral results of 1825 as expressing the real will of the nation, and it was a foregone conclusion not only that the General would again be a candidate, but that the campaign of 1828 would at once begin. The defeated Senator remained in Washington long enough to present himself at the White House on Inauguration Day and felicitate his successful rival. Then he set out on the long journey homeward. Every town through Pennsylvania and along the Ohio turned out en masse to greet him, and at Nashville he was given a prodigious reception. To friends and traveling companions he talked constantly about the election, leaving no doubt of his conviction that he had been defeated by intrigue. To a sympathetic group of passengers traveling down the Ohio with him on board the General Neville he declared emphatically that, if he had been willing to make the same promises and offers to Clay that Adams had made, he would that minute be in the presidential chair. If he should yet attain that dignity, he added significantly, he would do it "with clean hands." It is reported that as he spoke there was in his eye the fire of determination, such as his soldiers had seen there as he strode up and down the breastworks at New Orleans.

To this point Jackson had sought the presidency rather at the instigation of his friends than because of personal desire for the office. Now all was changed. The people had expressed their preference for him, and their will had been thwarted. Henceforth he was moved by an inflexible purpose to vindicate both his own right to the position and the right of his fellow citizens to choose their chief executive without hindrance. In this determination he was warmly backed up by his neighbors and advisers, and the machinery for a long, systematic, and resistless campaign was speedily put into running order. One group of managers took charge in Washington. Another set to work in New York. A third undertook to keep Pennsylvania in line. A fourth began to consolidate support in the South. At the capital the United States Telegraph, edited by Duff Green of Missouri, was established as a Jackson organ, and throughout the country friendly journals were set the task of keeping up an incessant fire upon the Administration and of holding the Jackson men together. Local committees were organized; pamphlets and handbills were put into circulation; receptions and public dinners were exploited, whenever possible, in the interest of the cause. First, last, and always, Jackson's candidacy was put forward as the hope and opportunity of the plain people as against the politicians.

In October the Tennessee Legislature again placed its favorite formally in nomination, and a few days later the candidate resigned his seat in the Senate in order to be more advantageously situated for carrying on his campaign. For more than a year he remained quietly at the Hermitage, dividing his attention between his blooded horses and dogs and his political interests. Lewis stayed at his side, partly to restrain him from outbreaks of temper or other acts that might injure his interests, partly to serve as an intermediary between him and the Washington manipulators.

Before Adams had been in the White House six months the country was divided substantially into Jackson men and anti-Jackson or administration men. The elements from which Jackson drew support were many and discordant. The backbone of his strength was the self-assertive, ambitious western Democracy, which recognized in him its truest and most eminent representative. The alliance with the Calhoun forces was kept up, although it was already jeopardized by the feeling of the South Carolinian's friends that they, and not Jackson's friends, should lead in the coming campaign. After a good deal of hesitation the supporters of Crawford came over also. Van Buren coquetted with the Adams forces for a year, and the old-line Republicans, strong in the Jeffersonian faith, brought themselves to the support of the Tenneseean with difficulty; but eventually both northern and southern wings of the Crawford contingent alined themselves against the Administration. The decision of Van Buren brought into the Jackson ranks a past master in party management, "the cleverest politician in a State in which the sort of politics that is concerned with the securing of elections rather than fighting for principles had grown into a science and an art." By 1826 the Jackson forces were welded into a substantial party, although for a long time their principles involved little more than hostility to Adams and enthusiasm for Jackson, and they bore no other designation than Jackson men.

The elements that were left to support the Administration were the followers of Adams and Clay. These eventually drew together under the name of National Republicans. Their strength, however, was limited, for Adams could make no appeal to the masses, even in New England; while Clay, by contributing to Jackson's defeat, had forfeited much of the popularity that would otherwise have been his.

If the story of Adams's Administration could be told in detail, it would be one long record of rancorous warfare between the President and the Jacksonian opposition in Congress. Adams, on the one hand, held inflexibly to his course, advocating policies and recommending measures which he knew had not the remotest chance of adoption; and, on the other hand, the opposition--which in the last two years of the Administration controlled the Senate as well as the House of Representatives--balked at no act that would humiliate the President and make capital for its western idol. At the outset the Jacksonians tried to hold up the confirmation of Clay. It fell furiously, and quite without discrimination, upon the President's great scheme of national improvements, professing to see in it evidence of an insatiable desire for "concentration." In the discussion of a proposed amendment to the Constitution providing for direct election of the President by the people it was constantly assumed and frequently stated that Adams had no moral right to the position which he occupied. The President's decision to send delegates to the Panama Congress of 1826 raised a storm of acrimonious debate and brought the Administration's enemies into closer unison. To cap the climax, Adams was solemnly charged with abuse of the federal patronage, and in the Senate six bills for the remedy of the President's pernicious practices were brought in by Benton in a single batch! Adams was able and honest, but he got no credit from his opponents for these qualities. He, in turn, displayed little magnanimity; and in refusing to shape his policies and methods to meet the conditions under which he had to work, he fell short of the highest statesmanship.

As election year approached, it became clear that the people would at last have an opportunity to make a direct choice between Adams and Jackson. Each candidate was formally nominated by sundry legislatures and other bodies; no one so much as suggested nomination by congressional caucus. In the early months of 1828 the campaign rapidly rose to an extraordinary level of vigor and public interest. Each party group became bitter and personal in its attacks upon the other; in our entire political history there have been not more than two or three campaigns so smirched with vituperation and abuse. The Jackson papers and stump speakers laid great stress on Adams's aristocratic temperament, denounced his policies as President, and exploited the "corrupt bargain" charge with all possible ingenuity.

On the other hand, the Adams-Clay forces dragged forth in long array Jackson's quarrels, duels, and rough-and-tumble encounters to prove that he was not fit to be President; they distributed handbills decorated with coffins bearing the names of the candidate's victims; they cited scores of actions, from the execution of mutinous militiamen in the Creek War to the quarrel with Callava, to show his arbitrary disposition; and they strove in a most malicious manner to undermine his popularity by breaking down his personal reputation, and even that of his wife and of his mother. It has been said that "the reader of old newspaper files and pamphlet collections of the Adamsite persuasion, in the absence of other knowledge, would gather that Jackson was a usurper, an adulterer, a gambler, a cock-fighter, a brawler, a drunkard, and withal a murderer of the most cruel and blood-thirsty description." Issues--tariff, internal improvements, foreign policy, slavery--receded into the background; the campaign became for all practical purposes a personal contest between the Tennessee soldier and the two statesmen whom he accused of bargain and corruption. "Hurrah for Jackson!" was the beginning and end of the creed of the masses bent on the Tenneseean's election.

Jackson never wearied of saying that he was "no politician." He was, none the less, one of the most forceful and successful politicians that the country has known. He was fortunate in being able to personify a cause which was grounded deeply in the feelings and opinions of the people, and also in being able to command the services of a large group of tireless and skillful national and local managers. He was willing to leave to these managers the infinite details of his campaign. But he kept in close touch with them and their subordinates, and upon occasion he did not hesitate to take personal command. In politics, as in war, he was imperious; persons not willing to support him with all their might, and without question or quibble, he preferred to see on the other side. Throughout the campaign his opponents hoped, and his friends feared, that he would commit some deed of anger that would ruin his chances of election. The temptation was strong, especially when the circumstances of his marriage were dragged into the controversy. But while he chafed inwardly, and sometimes expressed himself with more force than elegance in the presence of his friends, he maintained an outward calm and dignity. His bitterest feeling was reserved for Clay, who was known to be the chief inspirer of the National Republicans' mud-slinging campaign. But he felt that Adams had it in his power to put a stop to the slanders that were set in circulation, had he cared to do so.

As the campaign drew to a close, circumstances pointed with increasing sureness to the triumph of the Jackson forces. Adams, foreseeing the end, found solace in harsh and sometimes picturesque entries in his diary. A group of opposition Congressmen he pronounced "skunks of party slander." Calhoun he described as "stimulated to frenzy by success, flattery, and premature advancement; governed by no steady principle, but sagacious to seize upon every prevailing popular breeze to swell his own sails." Clay, likewise, became petulant and gloomy. In the last two months of the canvass Jackson ordered a general onslaught upon Kentucky, and when finally it was affirmed that the State had been "carried out from under" its accustomed master, Clay knew only too well that the boast was true. To Adams's assurances that after four years of Jackson the country would gladly turn to the Kentuckian, the latter could only reply that there would, indeed, be a reaction, but that before another President would be taken from the West he would be too old; and it was with difficulty that Adams persuaded him not to retire immediately from the Cabinet.

The results of the contest fully bore out the apprehensions of the Administration. Jackson received nearly 140,000 more popular votes than Adams and carried every State south of the Potomac and west of the Alleghanies. He carried Pennsylvania also by a vote of two to one and divided about equally with his opponent the votes of New York and Maryland. Only New England held fast for Adams. As one writer has facetiously remarked, "It took a New England conscience to hold a follower in line for the New England candidate." The total electoral vote was 178 for Jackson and 83 for Adams. Calhoun was easily reÎlected to the vice presidency. Both branches of Congress remained under the control of Jackson's partizans.

Months before the election, congratulatory messages began to pour into the Hermitage. Some came from old friends and disinterested well-wishers, many from prospective seekers of office or of other favors. Influential people in the East, and especially at the capital, hastened to express their desire to be of service to the Jacksons in the new life to which they were about to be called. In the list one notes with interest the names of General Thomas Cadwalader of Philadelphia, salaried lobbyist for the United States Bank, and Senator Robert Y. Hayne, the future South Carolina nullifier.

Returns sufficiently complete to leave no doubt of Jackson's election reached the Hermitage on the 9th of December. That afternoon, Lewis, Carroll, and a few other members of the "general headquarters staff" gathered at the Jackson home to review the situation and look over the bulky correspondence that had come in. "General Jackson," reports Lewis, "showed no elation. In fact, he had for some time considered his election certain, the only question in his mind being the extent of the majority. When he finished looking over the summary by States, his only remark was that Isaac Hill, considering the odds against him, had done wonders in New Hampshire!"

When, two weeks later, the final returns were received, leading Tenneseeans decided to give a reception, banquet, and ball which would outshine any social occasion in the annals of the Southwest. Just as arrangements were completed, however, Mrs. Jackson, who had long been in failing health, suffered an attack of heart trouble; and at the very hour when the General was to have been received, amid all the trappings of civil and military splendor, with the huzzas of his neighbors, friends, and admirers, he was sitting tearless, speechless, and almost expressionless by the corpse of his life companion. Long after the beloved one had been laid to rest in the Hermitage garden amid the rosebushes she had planted, the President-elect continued as one benumbed. He never gave up the idea that his wife had been killed by worry over the attacks made upon him and upon her by the Adams newspapers--that, as he expressed it, she was "murdered by slanders that pierced her heart." Only under continued prodding from Lewis and other friends did he recall himself to his great task and set about preparing for the arduous winter journey to Washington, composing his inaugural address, selecting his Cabinet, and laying plans for the reorganization of the federal Civil Service on lines already definitely in his mind.