The Adams men had less confidence, but no less shrewdness and skill. A new Richmond had arrived on the field. Since his visitation through the State two years before, in behalf of Solomon Southwick's candidacy for governor, Thurlow Weed had been growing rapidly in political experience. He left Manlius without a penny in the autumn of 1822 to find work on the Rochester Telegraph, a Clintonian paper of small pretensions and smaller circulation. Under its new manager, and with the name of John Quincy Adams for President at the head of the editorial page, it soon became so popular and belligerent that the business men of Rochester sent Weed to Albany as their agent to secure from the Legislature a charter for a bank. Upon his arrival at the capital, the friends of the New England candidate welcomed him to the great political arena in which he was to fight so long, so brilliantly, and with such success.

It was at this period in his history, that Thurlow Weed's connection with public life began, developing into that wonderful career which made him one of the most influential writers and strongest personalities of his day. He was not an orator; he was not even a public talker. One attempt to speak met with failure so embarrassing that he never tried a second time; but he was a companionable being. He loved the company of men. He had suffered so much, and yet retained so much of the serenity of a child, that he was ever ready to share his purse and his mantle of pity with the unfortunate, brightening their lives with a tender sympathy that endeared him to all. It was so natural for him to guide wisely and noiselessly that he seemed unconscious of his great gifts. Men in high places, often opulent and happy in their ease, deferred to him with the confidence of pupils to a beloved teacher. But he possessed more than philosophic wisdom. He was sleepless and tireless. It was his custom to attend political gatherings in all parts of the State, and to make the acquaintance of men in that "inner circle," who controlled the affairs of party and the destiny of aspiring statesmen. In 1822 he had toured the State in the interest of Solomon Southwick. From April to December, in 1824, he attended two extra sessions of the Legislature and a meeting of the Electoral College, besides travelling twice throughout the State in behalf of the candidacy of John Quincy Adams. Traversing New York, over rough roads, before the days of canals and railroads, in the heavy, lumbering stage coach that took five or six days and nights, and, in muddy seasons, six days and seven nights of continuous travel, to go from Albany to Buffalo, made a strenuous life, but Weed's devotion to party, and fidelity to men and principles, sent him on his way with something of the freshness of boyhood still shining on his face. He had his faults, but they were not of a kind to prevent men from finding him lovable.

When Weed came to Albany, in November, 1824, as the advocate of John Quincy Adams, the only hope of success was the union of the friends of Clay and Adams, since only two electoral tickets, under the Constitution, could be voted for. In the Senate, Crawford had seventeen votes, and Adams and Clay seven each; in the Assembly, the first ballot gave Crawford forty-three, Adams fifty, and Clay thirty-two. Until some combination was made, therefore, a majority could not be obtained for any candidate. To make such an union required fine diplomacy between the Adams and Clay men; for it appeared that Clay must have at least seven electoral votes from New York in order to become one of the three candidates to be voted for in the House of Representatives, should the election of President be thrown into Congress. Fortunately for the Adams men, the Crawford people also had their troubles, and to hold two senators in line they placed the names of six moderate Clay men on their ticket. Thereupon, at a secret meeting, the Adams and Clay leaders agreed to support thirty Adams men and the six Clay men upon the Crawford ticket, the friends of Adams promising, if Clay carried Louisiana, to furnish him the needed seven votes. Naturally enough, the success of this programme depended upon the utmost secrecy, since their ticket, with the help of all the Clay votes that could be mustered, would not exceed two majority. The better to secure such secrecy Weed personally printed the ballots on the Sunday before the final vote on Tuesday.

There was another well-kept secret. Thurlow Weed had had his suspicions turned into absolute evidence that Henry Eckford of New York City, a wealthy supporter of Crawford, had furnished money to influence three Adams men to vote for the Georgian. He had followed their go-between from Syracuse to Albany, from Albany to New York, and from New York back to Albany; he had heard their renunciation of Adams and their changed sentiments toward Crawford; and he knew also that the Adams ticket was lost if these three votes, or even two of them, were cast for the Crawford ticket. Weed straightway proposed that the dishonourable purposes of these men should be anticipated by an immediate declaration of war; and, upon their appearance in Albany, Henry Wheaton faced them with the story of their dishonour, threatening an exposure unless they voted a ballot bearing the initials of himself and Tallmadge. Conscious of their guilty purposes, the timid souls consented to Wheaton's proposition and then kept their pledges.

In the meantime, Van Buren's confidence in the weakness of the Adams-Clay men was never for a moment shaken. Of the thirty-nine Clay supporters in the Legislature, Crawford only needed sixteen; and these, Samuel Young and his Clay friends, had promised to deliver. There is no evidence that Van Buren had any knowledge of Weed's management at this time; it so happened, by design or by accident, that in their long careers they never met but once, and then, not until after Van Buren had retired from the White House. But the Senator knew that some hand had struck him, and struck him hard, when Lieutenant-Governor Root drew from the box the first union ballot. Instead of reading it, Root involuntarily exclaimed, "A printed split ticket." Thereupon Senator Keyes of Jefferson County, sprang to his feet, and, in a loud voice, shouted, "Treason, by God!" In the confusion, Root was about to vacate the speaker's chair and return with the senators to their chamber, when James Tallmadge, in a stentorian voice, called for order. "I demand, under the authority of the Constitution of the United States," he said, "under the Constitution of the State of New York, in the name of the whole American people, that this joint meeting of the two houses of the Legislature shall not be interrupted in the discharge of a high duty and a sacred trust."[243] This settled it. The count went on, but, so nearly were the parties divided that only thirty-two electors, and these on the union ticket, received votes enough to elect them. On the second ballot, four Crawford electors were chosen. "Had our secret transpired before the first ballot," says Weed, "such was the power of the Regency over two or three timid men, that the whole Crawford ticket would have been elected."[244]

Writing without full information of the agreement made in the secret caucus, Hammond[245] intimates that the Adams men did not keep faith with the Clay men, since the four votes taken from Clay and given to Crawford on the second ballot made Crawford, instead of Clay, a candidate in the national House of Representatives. Other writers have followed this opinion, charging the Adams managers with having played foul with the Kentucky statesman. But Weed and his associates did nothing of the kind. The agreement was that Clay should have seven electoral votes from New York, provided he carried Louisiana, but as Jackson carried that State, it left the Adams men free to give all their votes to the New Englander. What would have happened had Clay carried Louisiana is not so clear, for Weed admits that up to the time news came that Louisiana had gone for Jackson, he was unable to find a single Adams elector who would consent to vote for Clay, even to save his friends and his party from dishonour.

The failure of the people to elect a President in 1824, and the choice of John Quincy Adams by the House of Representatives, are among the most widely known events in our political history. New York remained, throughout, the storm-centre of excitement. After a large majority of its presidential electors had declared for Adams, thus throwing the election into Congress, the result still depended upon the vote of its closely divided delegation in the House. Of the thirty-four congressmen, seventeen favoured Adams, sixteen opposed him, and Stephen Van Rensselaer was doubtful. The latter's action, therefore, became of the utmost importance, since, if he voted against Adams, it would tie the New York delegation and exclude it from the count, thus giving Adams twelve States instead of the necessary thirteen, and making his election on a second ballot even more doubtful. This condition revived the hopes of Van Buren and gave Clinton a chance to work for Jackson.

Stephen Van Rensselaer,[246] born in 1764, had had a conspicuous and in some respects a distinguished career. He was the fifth in lineal descent from Killian van Rensselaer, the wealthy pearl merchant of Amsterdam, known as the first Patroon, whose great manor, purchased in the early part of the seventeenth century, originally included the present counties of Albany, Rensselaer, and Columbia. Stephen inherited the larger part of this territory, and, with it, the old manor house at Albany. His mother was a daughter of Philip Livingston, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, and his wife a daughter of Philip Schuyler. This made him the brother-in-law of Alexander Hamilton.

Stephen began filling offices as soon as he was old enough. For several years he served in the Assembly and in the Senate. In 1795, he became lieutenant-governor for two terms. George Clinton defeated him for governor in 1801; but before Jay's term expired, he made him commander of the State's cavalry. In 1812, at the outbreak of hostilities with England, Governor Tompkins promoted him to be chief of the state militia—an office which he resigned in disgust after the disgraceful defeat at Queenstown Heights on the Niagara frontier, because his troops refused to follow him. In 1810, he became a member of the first canal commission, of which he was president for fifteen years. Later, he served as a regent and chancellor of the State University, and, in 1824, established the Troy Polytechnical Institute. It was at this time he went to Congress, and while serving his first term, held the casting vote that would elect a President of the United States.

Rensselaer had been a Federalist of the Hamilton school, and, although the Federal party had practically ceased to exist, he owed his election to its former members. This was sufficient reason to believe that he would not support Van Buren's candidate, and that his predilections would incline him to take a President from the North, provided Adams was persona grata to the old Federalists. The latter had never quite forgiven Adams for deserting them; and, having been long excluded from power, they were anxious to know whether, if elected, he would continue to proscribe them. Finally, when Daniel Webster removed their doubts on this subject, Van Rensselaer still hesitated on account of Clinton. He had a strong liking for the Governor. They had served as canal commissioners, and their association in the great work, then nearing completion, filled him with admiration for the indomitable spirit exhibited by the distinguished canal builder. His probable action, therefore, kept men busy guessing. The suspense resembled that of the Tilden Hayes controversy of 1877, for the result meant much to the several factions in the State. Crawford's election would continue Van Buren and the Regency in power; the choice of Jackson must make Clinton the supreme dispenser of federal patronage; and Adams' success meant a better opportunity for Thurlow Weed to form a new party.