I
Philip Hone, seated in the little Senate Chamber, and still entranced with Clay’s theatrical appeal to Van Buren, was awakened from his reverie by observing Webster beckoning him out of the room. The entertainer of the Whig celebrities followed the god of his idolatry to one of the committee rooms, where, for more than an hour, the orator “unburdened his mind fully on the state of affairs and future prospects.” The burden of it all was the importance of carrying the spring elections. When Hone called on Clay, he found him of the same opinion. “He says that the only hope is the election in our State and in Pennsylvania.” Meeting John Quincy Adams, “that sagacious man,” he found that the former President shared the belief that “our only hope lies in the elections in New York and Pennsylvania, particularly our charter election.”[753] That the Administration forces and the Kitchen Cabinet were equally impressed with the strategic value of victories in New York City is disclosed in a letter from Major Lewis to James A. Hamilton, “Have you any doubt of succeeding at your election?” he wrote. “I hope not; yet I confess I have my fears. The strongest ground to take with the people is the fact, that under the existing arrangements with the State banks, the whole revenue collected through your customs house is left to be dispensed in your own city, instead of being transferred to a neighboring rival city. Our friends should ring the changes upon this view in every quarter of the city.”[754] It is thus evident that the contending forces were concentrating for the election of aldermen and a mayor in a city then numbering few more than 200,000 people.
Early in March the Opposition deliberately made the Bank the issue by nominating Gulian C. Verplanck, driven from Congress by the Democrats because of his fidelity to the Bank, and planning for a popular vindication of that institution. Two days later the Democrats nominated Cornelius W. Lawrence, who had been exceedingly bitter against the Bank while in Congress. Accepting Hone’s opinion that “the personal characters of both the gentlemen is above reproach,”[755] the election would definitely determine the drift of public opinion on the contest then in its most bitter stage. The election returns were confusing. The mayoralty candidate, who had been ousted from his seat in Congress because of his support of Biddle, was defeated by the man whose bitterness against the Bank while in Congress had been notable. The Democrats won here, and the Opposition lost. The fact that the latter elected a majority of the aldermen was loudly hailed as a vote against Jackson on the Bank question, although, in the more spirited contest for the more important office, the Bank champion was overwhelmed by the Democrat. The Opposition was jubilant, or pretended to jubilation. A great celebration was held at Castle Garden, and the faithful poured forth by the tens of thousands to sit about the tables “spread in a row” and to do full justice to the “three pipes of wine and forty barrels of beer placed in the center under an awning.” Full of fire and froth, the exuberant partisans, learning that Webster was the guest of a lady at her home, moved thence en masse, where the orator, who had declined to appear among the beer kegs in the Garden, presented himself at the window and delivered “an address full of fire” which “was received with rapturous shouts.”[756] All over the Eastern country the Whigs insisted on accepting the defeat of the Bank candidate for mayor as a victory for the Bank, and the Philadelphians had “a grand celebration at Powelton on the Schuylkill”; the Whigs of Albany “fired one hundred guns”; the Whigs of Buffalo “made a great affair of it with guns and illuminations”; those of Portsmouth “received the news with one hundred guns” and “had a town meeting and made speeches.”[757] Meanwhile the Democrats were proclaiming the election of Lawrence a Jacksonian triumph. After the various salutes from Portsmouth to the Battery of a hundred guns, and the celebration in the Garden among the beer kegs, the Democrats arranged their celebration for the day that Lawrence was to make his triumphant entry. A steamboat went down to Amboy to receive the mayor-elect, and “with colors flying and loud huzzas,” the Jacksonians sat down to a dinner on board, “where Jackson toasts were drunk and Jackson speeches were made.” Landing at Castle Garden, the new mayor was conducted in a “barouche drawn by four white horses, and paraded through the streets.”[758]
But the desperate Opposition, hard pressed, and requiring encouragement for its followers, succeeded, through exaggerations and red fire, in convincing the rank and file that an anti-Jackson wave had swept the Nation. Rhode Island, never a Jackson State, went against the Democrats, and this was celebrated with as much enthusiasm as though a stronghold of the enemy had been taken. The triumph of the Whigs in the Philadelphia ward elections was exploited as a signal triumph. Virginia, anti-Bank as well as anti-Jackson, was lost to the Democrats, and the Opposition interpreted it as a pro-Bank as well as an anti-Jackson verdict. In Louisiana the Whigs won on the tariff, but the impression was given that the result reflected a popular resentment of the mistreatment of Nicholas Biddle. As a matter of fact, no intelligent politician could have attached any particular significance to the results of the spring elections, and the leaders immediately began their preparations for the congressional elections in the fall.
II
In these elections the Opposition to Jacksonian Democracy was to fight for the first time under its new party name. In February, 1834, James Watson Webb, the unscrupulous speculator in Bank stock, and editor of the “Courier and Enquirer” of New York City, had proposed that the combination against the policies of Jackson should be known as the Whig Party. “It is a glorious name,” said John Forsyth, “and I have no doubt they will disgrace it.” Within six months the National Republicans and the Anti-Masons disappeared—united under the Whig banner. In September, 1834, Niles records, in his “Register,” that, “as if by universal consent, all parties opposed to the present Administration call themselves Whigs.” And all who called themselves Whigs denounced the Jacksonians as Tories. It was a pretty conceit. The Whigs of England had fought the battles of the people against the usurpations of the throne, and the Whigs of America were fighting the usurpations of Jackson. The Constitution against anarchy, the people against the Power—such was the fight of Nicholas Biddle, Henry Clay, and John C. Calhoun against Jackson.
A more incongruous combination of contradictions and a more sinister and unholy alliance than that of the Whigs of the Jacksonian period has never appeared in the political life of the Republic. These men held common opinions on none of the fundamental principles of government. A few years, and few of the leaders and founders could agree as to the character of the combination.[759] The only plank in the platform of this ragged array on which all could stand was a hatred of Andrew Jackson. That was the open sesame to the temple. Beyond that no questions were asked. Born with the seed of inevitable disintegration, it was to stagger along through twenty years, to end without a mourner, and to leave no record worthy of an epitaph. And about the time of its birth, and after its insignificant successes in the spring elections, that astute journalist and politician, Thomas Ritchie, of the “Richmond Enquirer,” foresaw its future with the clear light of a prophet. “When it comes to act upon any policy or principle,” he wrote, “not connected with a hatred of Jackson, it must fall to pieces and commence a war inter se. It contains all the elements of dissolution, and is destined to share the fate of other monstrous alliances.”[760]
But its creators were not concerned in 1834 with anything further than the overthrow of Jackson and his followers. Not daring to advance a constructive programme, for the very effort would have wrecked the party, they confined themselves to extravagant and absurd denunciations of Jackson as a tyrant usurping power and clambering to a throne. The congressional campaign opened with a rush. All over the land the Whigs were raising liberty poles—because they were fighting the battle of liberty against the despot. And Nicholas Biddle and his Bank, as usual, wore the liberty cap. When Congress adjourned in June, the moneyed institution was in a dying condition, and the money market was again about normal. Only a signal Whig triumph could now save the institution on Chestnut Street.
III
With the adjournment of Congress, Jackson, with his customary complacency and confidence in the support of the people, set forth for the Hermitage for a much-needed rest. He had just again reorganized his Cabinet because of the failure of the Senate to confirm Taney and the resignation of Louis McLane. The motive for the latter’s retirement is only conjectural. That he had never felt at home in the Cabinet circle, we may well believe. While in the Cabinet, he was not of it. But for the constant friendship and support of Van Buren, his position would have been delicate indeed. He was out of sympathy with Jackson at every stage of the Bank fight. He would have renewed the old charter without a change; would have renewed it with concessions from the Bank; but he would have renewed it. With the removal of the deposits he was entirely out of sympathy. He would not have removed them at all; but, if removed, he would not have removed them until Congress had convened. His social affiliations were largely with the old official aristocracy. That he entertained presidential aspirations was generally understood, and it is quite possible that he considered a complete separation from the Administration advantageous to his interests. His associations were such that he could not have heard much that was not venomously hostile to Jackson and the Jacksonians. But, a gentleman of dignity, he withdrew gracefully, plunging into no undignified recriminations.[761]