“Because I am happy now.”
So reply the uneventful, unproductive felicities of Monroe’s term to the distressed hunter after historical sensations.
After the showery storm of Madison’s aquatic epoch, rainbows came out in millennial blendings. Warm sunshine lay upon all the land. Under it the happy family dwelt in peace. Federal and Republican inlaid the Cabinet. Virginia was satisfied with the fourth President. She had got her thirds. The humble eighteen others believed in Virginia Presidents. They were content. It was Solomon’s reign of peace paragraphed between David’s wars and Rehoboam’s troubles. Five Territories took advantage of the open doors to step into family relations. Among the five were the three leading M’s, Maine, Mississippi, and Missouri. Chicago—we mean Illinois—took the year 1818 to enter. Of course Chicago had not yet begun, for in 1820 the census only showed 9,638,191.
The keeper of the happy family was re-elected in 1820. There was only one vote against him,—a little mistake or eccentricity not worth inquiring into. There was a little shimmering over the calm surface for two years, caused by the application of Missouri to bring slaves with her into the family. Of course Mr. Clay produced a compromise as a settlement in 1820. Missouri was allowed slaves; but thereafter slavery was banned from all territory north of 36° 30´. The bridle looked strong when there was no horse. When the black charger was brought out and the bridle put on, it was found, however, that he leaped unchecked over the line.
In 1819 Florida was bought from Spain for $5,000,000, and delivered to us in 1821. We got with it more than our bargain,—a lot of very sharp Indian tomahawks. To blunt them soon cost $30,000,000. The Dry Tortugas were thrown in. So were the Florida Keys. So were the alligators. Fortunately the night dews were left to prevent the peninsula from cracking off. Our Union is for better or worse. We took Florida in the era of good-will; we keep it for nothing. Among the crockery in the family cupboard an occasional cup comes with a cracked handle or broken edge. Having little to do at home, our statesmen turned their attention to Venezuela and New Granada, then fighting under Bolivar for their independence of Spain. Bravely they spoke up for the under cur in the fight; but more courageous still, the President, in his annual message for 1823, declared, as a principle, in spite of the crowds of colonists to our own ports, that no European nation had any right to colonize any territory on the Western continent,—a Monroe doctrine which, like the laws, is very loud-spoken in peace, but very silent in war.
CHAPTER IX.
TROUBLES BUBBLE; OR, THE SORROWS OF JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.
1825–1829.
Parallel between Sidney Smith’s Old Razor and J. Q. Adams’s Term.—How several Gentlemen, touched by Age, reached in Vain after Honors too high.—Who they were; and what Acid Grapes the House of Representatives snatched from them.—Pamphleteering and Privateering.—An Italian Saying.—Description of a Good Statesman spoiled in the Mould of a Politician.—An Illustrative Anecdote.—Partisan Scales weighing Public Interests.—The Weights.—The Depravity of Political Blunders.—History vs. Party Judgments.
Sidney Smith once said “that he was like an old razor,—always in hot water or in a scrape.” The term of the second Adams had similar agreeable occupation. The water was very hot when this political blade was first thrust into it. Mr. Monroe’s double term was so quiet, dozy, and apparently so long, that several gentlemen, outside of Virginia, felt that they were growing old, and might, unless they improved the chance, easily slip out of it. Besides Mr. Adams, there were, as candidates, General Andrew Jackson of Tennessee, William H. Crawford of Georgia, and Henry Clay of Kentucky; among whom General Jackson received the highest popular vote, and Mr. Adams the next. In the House of Representatives, the ballot taken by States gave Mr. Adams 13, General Jackson 7, and Mr. Crawford 4 votes. Each of these was a dragon’s tooth, which was carefully sown, and produced rank growths of sulphur-colored partisans, whose drifting seeds grew into poisonous crops all along the public roads. Pamphleteering became privateering on private reputation. Industrious falsehoods supplied for many years the warp of history.
“Si non è vero è ben trovato” was the maxim of ingenious and disingenuous fraud.
Nursed and reared a statesman, Mr. Adams made a very poor politician. He could no more run his ever-cooling intellect and scholarly attainments into the curious moulds of party than he could make Q fit the place of A. Worse far, he had such a small organ for a heart, that it sent no blood to his cold fingers for hand-shaking. He had too much conscience to be popular with office-beggars, and not manners enough to go around in the country at large. He never stirred out of Washington, that he did not tread on some one’s foot.