A Political History of the State of New York, Volumes 1-3

by De Alva Stanwood Alexander

Several events of the year aided the opposition party. The hostility of the Jackson leaders to internal improvements aroused former Clintonians who believed in canals, and the widespread financial embarrassment alarmed commercial and mercantile interests. They resented the remark of the President that "men who trade on borrowed capital ought to fail," and the bold denial that "any pressure existed which an honest man should regret." Business men, cramped for money, or already bankrupt because the United States Bank, stripped of its government deposits, had curtailed its discounts, did not listen with patience or amiability to statements of such a character; nor were they inclined to excuse the President's action on the theory that the United States Bank had cut down its loans to produce a panic, and thus force a reversal of his policy. To them such utterances seemed to evince a want of sympathy, and opposition orators and journals took advantage of the situation by eloquently denouncing a policy that embarrassed commerce and manufactures, throwing people out of employment and bringing suffering and want to the masses.

The New York municipal election in the spring of 1834 plainly showed that the voters resented the President's financial policy. For the first time in the history of the city, the people were to elect their mayor, and, although purely a local contest, it turned upon national issues. All the elements of opposition now used the one name of "Whig." Until this time local organisations had adopted various titles, such as "Anti-Jackson," "Anti-Mortgage," and "Anti-Regency;" but the opponents of Jackson now claimed to be the true successors of the Whigs of 1776, calling their movement a revolution against the tyranny and usurpation of "King Andrew." They raised liberty poles, spoke of their opponents as Tories, and appropriated as emblems the national flag and portraits of Washington.

The prospects of the new party brightened, too, when it nominated for mayor Gulian C. Verplanck, a member of Tammany Hall, a distinguished congressman of eight years' service, and, until then, a representative of the Jackson party, highly esteemed and justly popular. Although best known, perhaps, as a scholar and writer, Verplanck's active sympathies early led him into politics. He entered the Whig party and the mayoralty campaign with high hopes of success. He led the merchants and business men, while his opponent, Cornelius V.R. Lawrence, also a popular member of Tammany, rallied the mechanics and labouring classes. The spirited contest, characterised by rifled ballot-boxes and broken heads, revealed at once its national importance. If the new party could show a change in public sentiment in the foremost city in the Union, it would be helpful in reversing Jackson's financial policy. So the great issue became a cry of "panic" and a threat of "hard times." Like the strokes of a fire bell at night, it alarmed the people, whose confidence began to waver and finally to give way.

The evident purpose of the United States Bank was to create, if possible, the fear of a panic. By suddenly curtailing its loans, ostensibly because of the removal of the deposits, it brought such pressure upon the state banks that a suspension of specie payment seemed inevitable. To relieve this situation, Governor Marcy and the Legislature, acting with great promptness, pledged the State's credit to the banks, should the exigency require such aid, to the amount of six million dollars. This was called "Marcy's mortgage." The Whigs stigmatised it as a pledge of the people's property for the benefit of money corporations, denouncing the project as little better than a vulgar swindle in the interest of the Democratic party. Whether Marcy's scheme really averted the threatened calamity, or whether the United States Bank had already carried its contraction as far as it intended, it is certain that the fear of a panic served its purpose in the campaign. The Whigs became enthusiastic, and, as the United States Bank now began relieving the commercial embarrassment by extending its loans and giving its friends in New York special advantages, the party felt certain of victory. When the polls closed the result did not fully realise Whig anticipations; yet it disclosed a Democratic majority, cut down from five thousand to two hundred, with a loss of the Council. Verplanck had, indeed, been beaten by one hundred and eighty-one votes; but the Common Council, carrying with it the patronage of the city, amounting to more than one million dollars a year, had been easily won. The Democrats had the shadow, it was said, and the Whigs the substance.

This election, and other successes in many towns throughout the State, greatly encouraged the leaders of the opposition. A convention held at Syracuse, in August, 1834, adopted the title of "Whig," and the new party exulted in its name. To add to the enthusiasm, Daniel Webster declared, in a letter, that, from his cradle, he had "been educated in the principles of the Whigs of '76." The New York City election was referred to as the "Lexington" of the revolution against "King Andrew," as its prototype was against King George.

The Whigs' hope of success was heightened, also, by the unanimous nomination of William H. Seward for governor. Seward was now thirty-three years of age. During his four years in the Senate, political expediency neither limited nor controlled his opinions. He had argued for reform in the military system; he had favoured the abolition of imprisonment for debt; he had vigorously opposed the attacks upon the United States Bank and the removal of the deposits; he had antagonised the Chenango canal for reasons presented by Comptroller Marcy, and he gave generously of his time in the Court of Errors. He had grown into a statesman of acknowledged genius and popularity, placing himself in sympathy with the masses, denouncing misrule and supporting measures of reform. Of all the old and experienced members of the Senate, it was freely admitted that none surpassed him in a knowledge of the affairs of the State, or in a readiness to debate leading questions. But, well fitted as he was, he did not solicit the privilege of being a candidate for governor. On the contrary, with Weed and Whittlesey, he tried to find some one else. Granger preferred going to Congress; Verplanck had not yet recovered from the chagrin and disappointment of losing the mayoralty; Maynard was dead, and James Wadsworth would not accept office. To Seward an acceptance of the nomination, therefore, appealed almost as a matter of duty.

Silas M. Stilwell of New York became the candidate for lieutenant-governor. Stilwell had been a shoemaker, and, until the organisation of the Whig party, a stalwart supporter of the Regency, occupying a conspicuous place as an industrious and ambitious member of the Assembly. When the deposits were removed and a panic threatened he declared himself a Whig.

Confidence characterised the convention which nominated Seward and Stilwell. Young men predominated, and their enthusiasm was aroused to the highest pitch by the eloquence of Peter R. Livingston, their venerable chairman. Like a new convert, Livingston prophesied victory. Livingston had been a wheel-horse in the party of Jefferson. He had served in the Senate with Van Buren; he had taken a leading part in the convention of 1821, and he had held, with distinction, the speakership of the Assembly and the presidency of the Senate. His creed was love of republicanism and hatred of Clinton. At one time he was the faithful follower, the enthusiastic admirer, almost the devotee of Van Buren; and, so long as the Kinderhook statesman opposed Clinton, he needed Livingston. But, when the time came that Van Buren must conciliate Clinton, Livingston was dropped from the Senate. The consequences were far more serious than Van Buren intended. Livingston was as able as he was eloquent, and Van Buren's coalition with Clinton quickly turned Livingston's ability and eloquence to the support of Clay. Then he openly joined the Whigs; and to catch his influence, and the thrill of his remarkable voice, they made him chairman of their first state convention. As an evidence of their enthusiasm, the whole body of delegates, with music and flags, drove from Syracuse to Auburn, twenty-six miles, to visit their young candidate for governor.

In the same month the Democrats renominated Marcy and John Tracy, strong in prestige of past success and present power. Instantly, the two leading candidates were contrasted—Marcy, the mature and experienced statesman; Seward, a "red-haired young man," without a record and unknown to fame. Stilwell was told to "stick to his boots and shoes;" and, in resentment, tailors, printers, shoemakers, and men of other handicraft, organised in support of "the working man" against the "Jackson Aristocrats." In answer to the Commercial Advertiser's sneer that Seward was "red-haired," William L. Stone, with felicitous humour, told how Esau, and Cato, Clovis, William Rufus, and Rob Roy not only had red hair, but each was celebrated for having it; how Ossian sung a "lofty race of red-haired heroes," how Venus herself was golden-haired, as well as Patroclus and Achilles. "Thus does it appear," the article concluded, "that in all ages and in all countries, from Paradise to Dragon River, has red or golden hair been held in highest estimation. But for his red hair, the country of Esau would not have been called Edom. But for his hair, which was doubtless red, Samson would not have carried away the gates of Gaza. But for his red hair, Jason would not have navigated the Euxine and discovered the Golden Horn. But for the red hair of his mistress, Leander would not have swum the Hellespont. But for his red hair, Narcissus would not have fallen in love with himself, and thereby become immortal in song. But for his red hair we should find nothing in Van Buren to praise. But for red hair, we should not have written this article. And, but for his red hair, William H. Seward might not have become governor of the State of New York! Stand aside, then, ye Tories, and 'Let go of his hair.'"[279]

The mottoes of this campaign illustrate the principles involved in it. "Seward and Free Soil, or Marcy with his Mortgage" was a favourite with the Whigs. "The Monster Bank Party" became the popular cry of Democrats, to which the Whigs retorted with "The Party of Little Monsters." "Marcy's Pantaloons," "No Nullification," and "Union and Liberty" also did service. Copper medals bearing the heads of candidates were freely distributed, and humourous campaign songs, set to popular music, began to be heard.