Van Rensselaer did not talk. Experience had accustomed him to outside pressure, and he now kept his head cool when Clinton and other influential New Yorkers overwhelmed him with prayers and petitions. At last, on the morning of February 9, 1825, he walked leisurely into the hall of the House and took his seat with the New York delegation. Every member of the House was in his place, except one who was sick in his lodgings. The galleries were packed with spectators, and the areas thronged with judges, ambassadors, governors, and other privileged persons. After the formal announcement, that no one had received a majority of electoral votes for the Presidency, and that the House of Representatives must elect a President from the three highest candidates, the roll was called by States, and the vote of each State deposited in a box by itself. Then the tellers, Daniel Webster and John Randolph, opened the boxes and counted the ballots.
The report of the tellers surprised almost every one. A long contest had been expected. Friends of Crawford hoped the House would weary itself with many ballots and end the affair by electing him. But the announcement gave Crawford only four States, Jackson seven, and Adams thirteen—a majority over all. Then it was known that Van Rensselaer's vote had given New York to Adams, and that New York's vote had made Adams the President. For the moment, Van Buren was checkmated, and he knew it.
CHAPTER XXXI
CLINTON’S COALITION WITH VAN BUREN
1825-1828
The election of John Quincy Adams as President of the United States staggered the Regency and seriously threatened the influence of Martin Van Buren. It was likely to close the portals of the White House to him, and to open the doors of custom-houses and post-offices to his opponents. More injurious than this, it established new party alignments and gave great prestige at least to one man before unrecognised as a political factor. The successful combination of the Adams and Clay electors was the talk of the State; and, although Thurlow Weed's dominant part in the game did not appear on the surface, Van Buren and every intelligent political worker understood that some strong hand had been at work.
The absence of available candidates, around whom he could rally his shattered forces, cast the deepest shadow across Van Buren's pathway. He had staked much upon Samuel Young's candidacy for governor, and everything upon William H. Crawford's candidacy for President. But Young fell under Clinton's overwhelming majority, and Crawford exhibited a weakness that surprised even his inveterate opponents. In the House of Representatives Crawford had carried but four out of the twenty-four States. This seemed to leave Van Buren without a man to turn to; while Clinton's early declaration for Andrew Jackson gave him the key to the situation. Although Jackson, for whom eleven States had given an electoral plurality, received the vote of but seven States in the House, the contest had narrowed to a choice between Adams and himself, making the popular General the coming man. Besides, Clinton was very active on his own account. On the 26th of October, 1825, the waters of Lake Erie were let into the Erie canal, and navigation opened from the lake to the Hudson. It was a great day for the Governor. A popular jubilation extended from Buffalo to New York, and, amidst the roar of artillery and the eloquence of many orators, the praises of the distinguished canal builder sounded throughout the State and nation. To a man of intellect far lower than that of Martin Van Buren, it must have been obvious that forces were at work in the minds and hearts of people which could not be controlled by Regency edicts or party traditions.
But the Kinderhook statesman did not despair. In the election to occur in November he desired simply to strengthen himself in the Legislature; and, with consummate skill, he sought to carry Republican districts. National issues were to be avoided. So ably did Edwin Croswell, the wise and sagacious editor of the Albany Argus, lead the way, that not a word was written or spoken against the national administration. This cunning play renewed the old charge of "non-committalism,"[247] which for many years was used to characterise Van Buren's policy and action; but it in no wise disconcerted his plans, or discovered his intentions. All he wanted now was the Legislature, and while the whole State was given up to general rejoicing over the completion of the canal, the Regency leaders, under the direction of the astute Senator, practised the tactics which Van Buren had learned from Aaron Burr, and which have come to be known in later days as a "political still-hunt." When the contest ended, the Regency Republicans had both branches of the Legislature by a safe working majority. This result, so overwhelming, so sudden, and so entirely unexpected, made Clinton's friends believe that his end had come.
Van Buren, however, had broader views. He knew that Andrew Jackson, as a candidate for the Presidency, had little standing in 1824 until Pennsylvania took him up, and he now believed that if New York supported him, with the Keystone State, in 1828, the hero of New Orleans must succeed Adams. To elect him President, therefore, became the purpose of Van Buren's political life; and, as the first step in that direction, he determined to make DeWitt Clinton his friend. The Governor was Jackson's champion. He had declared for him in the early days of the Tennesseean's candidacy, and to reach him through such an outspoken ally would give Van Buren an open way to the hero's heart.
Accordingly, Van Buren insisted upon a conciliatory course. He sent Benjamin Knower, the state treasurer and now a member of the Regency, to inform Clinton that, if the Van Buren leaders could control their party, he should have no opposition at next year's gubernatorial election. Clinton and Bucktail, like oil and water, had refused to combine until this third ingredient, that Van Buren knew so well how to add, completed the mixture. Whether the coalition would have brought Clinton the reward of success or the penalty of failure must forever remain a secret, for the Governor did not live long enough to solve the question. But in the game of politics he had never been a match for Van Buren. He was a statesman without being a politician.