Revealing the level of his disappointment in this episode, Clay took the additional extraordinary step of trying to override the veto of his own party's president. Revealing the level of opposition to the very concept of internal improvements, the override failed.48 A major element of the program that he and Calhoun felt was essential to national progress had been repudiated. A major element of the program that he and Calhoun felt was essential to national progress had been repudiated.

Clay's disappointments mounted in those early days of March 1817. Monroe's cabinet announcements were finally made official, and John Quincy Adams was the new secretary of state. Clay felt humiliated at being passed over, but his embarrassment soon gave way to angry resentment. Being rejected for Adams was especially vexing. During their six months together in Ghent, Clay had concluded that to know Adams was to dislike him, and he sincerely believed that the New Englander's barbed personality was unsuited for the State Department. Worse, Clay did not trust Adams to protect western interests, because he had been so willing to bargain them away at Ghent.

Monroe did not help matters when he offered Clay the War Department, a decidedly inferior cabinet post, especially in peacetime. When Clay turned Monroe down "in the most decided manner," Monroe then made a worse blunder by proposing that Clay replace Adams as minister to Great Britain. Clay hardly thought it a consolation to be offered Adams's leavings.49 Because Clay's irritation obscured for him Monroe's perfectly good reasons for his cabinet choices, he could not see that he was being unfair to a man with a complex set of predicaments that had nothing to do with satisfying Henry Clay. Federalists circulated rumors that Monroe had made a deal with Clay for his support in the Republican caucus. For blocking Crawford's nomination, they whispered, Clay was to receive the State Department. No such arrangement existed, but the suggestion of impropriety horrified Monroe. In addition, William Crawford was senior to Clay, with an impressive resume: he had been in the government longer, had served in Madison's cabinet, had been minister to France, and had been elected president pro tempore of the Senate. Giving the State Department to Clay would have slighted Crawford, who was already annoyed by Madison's shuffling him from War into Treasury. Finally, Monroe wanted a geographically balanced cabinet with one member from the North, one from the South, one from the Mid-Atlantic region, and one from the West. The most qualified loyal Republican from the Northeast was John Quincy Adams, a career diplomat, making him the logical choice for the State Department. Monroe tried to mollify the other two aspirants to State by bringing them into the cabinet as well, which was why he asked Crawford to remain at Treasury and offered Clay the War Department. Crawford said yes; Clay said no, and Monroe sought out another westerner, first considering Andrew Jackson but asking former Kentucky governor Isaac Shelby, who also declined. Ultimately, Monroe settled on John C. Calhoun, a southerner who, with the Georgian Crawford, tilted the quest for sectional balance to the South. But Monroe could console himself that it was not a perfect world.50 In fact, imperfections cropped up in the most unexpected places at the start of this "Era of Good Feelings." When nobody consulted Speaker Clay about plans to dress up the House chamber with red plush chairs for Monroe's inauguration, he curtly insisted that the Senate would have to be satisfied with "the furniture of the Hall, such as it is." Because of a quarrel over chairs, James Monroe had the distinction of being the first president sworn in outdoors.51 Clay did not attend Monroe's inauguration, which might have been a show of petulance over being denied State, but he did not cut himself off from the administration either. He asked Monroe to appoint friends to federal jobs, and the president usually obliged. Clay kept his disappointment largely to himself, joking with friends about the cabinet and letting Monroe continue to consider him a friend and an adviser. Whether Clay's pique colored his attitude toward the Monroe presidency is uncertain. His disagreements with the administration are often filtered through the lens of John Quincy Adams's diary and consequently seem to have stemmed entirely from Clay's personal displeasure. Clay always claimed, however, that he differed with the administration solely on policy. Perhaps the truth was somewhere in between.52 In the fall of 1817, he counseled Kit Hughes not to brood over being denied a diplomatic appointment he wanted. He told Hughes "to acquiesce, with a good grace, in what is unalterable ... to patiently wait a more favorable turn of events." It was good advice. Clay might have taken it himself. In the fall of 1817, he counseled Kit Hughes not to brood over being denied a diplomatic appointment he wanted. He told Hughes "to acquiesce, with a good grace, in what is unalterable ... to patiently wait a more favorable turn of events." It was good advice. Clay might have taken it himself.53 The Clays stayed in the capital during that summer of 1817. Henry had business interests in Washington, his daughter Susan was in school in Baltimore, Lucretia was in the early months of her tenth pregnancy, and the family was installed in a comfortable house. As the days shortened and shadows lengthened with autumn's approach, Washington was a ghost town. Congress was not in session, and legislators as well as members of the cabinet had left for their homes. President Monroe toured New England to cultivate support in that last bastion of Federalism. On November 9, 1817, Lucretia gave birth to her tenth child, their fourth son, James Brown Clay. Unlike Henry Jr., James was frequently ill and gave his parents several anxious months before finally gaining strength.54 MEMBERS OF CONGRESS began trickling back into town at the end of November, and Washington came alive again. Once Lucretia regained her strength, the Clays went to parties and hosted their own with broad guest lists that even included John Quincy Adams. Yet Washington was not the same without vivacious Dolley Madison at the head of society. Elizabeth Kortright Monroe was a reserved woman who did not call on wives and with her husband avoided socializing in private homes to prevent the impression that the president had favorites. The Monroes gave parties and held levees, but these lacked the sparkle of Mrs. Madison's events. In any case, the president and his wife were frequently ill during his eight years in office and limited their social calendar. In matters both convivial and political, Monroe's presidency did not measure up to Clay's standards. began trickling back into town at the end of November, and Washington came alive again. Once Lucretia regained her strength, the Clays went to parties and hosted their own with broad guest lists that even included John Quincy Adams. Yet Washington was not the same without vivacious Dolley Madison at the head of society. Elizabeth Kortright Monroe was a reserved woman who did not call on wives and with her husband avoided socializing in private homes to prevent the impression that the president had favorites. The Monroes gave parties and held levees, but these lacked the sparkle of Mrs. Madison's events. In any case, the president and his wife were frequently ill during his eight years in office and limited their social calendar. In matters both convivial and political, Monroe's presidency did not measure up to Clay's standards.55 Voter anger over the Salary Grab meant that an extraordinary number of the Fifteenth Congress were freshmen, and Clay hoped that he could play on that inexperience to undo Madison's eleventh-hour fit of constitutional caution over internal improvements. He was encouraged that the House overwhelmingly elected him Speaker once again, but his easy victory did not mean the House would automatically do his bidding. Some new members found Clay arrogant and resented his efforts to use them for his purposes. Many lodged the same constitutional objections to federally funded internal improvements as previous Congresses, objections that Monroe, like Madison, shared. As Clay surveyed his opponents, he grew frustrated. Friends in Kentucky proposed running him for governor, and he considered it.56 In fact, Clay had contemplated retirement from Congress since spring. The principal reason he did not quit and go home was his desire to steer the United States to support Latin American revolutions fighting for independence from Spain. This issue gave rise to Clay's sharpest disagreements with the Monroe administration. The president tried to mollify Clay, and a formal break never occurred. In addition, many suspected that Clay's fixation on recognizing Latin American republics was just another way for him to embarrass Monroe and Adams. Yet his disgust over the administration's reluctance to support Latin American revolutions was quite sincere, and he had planned before the fall session started to make it a major issue for the Fifteenth Congress.

Clay had early expressed sympathy for Latin American revolutionaries because he saw them as comparable to America's patriots of 1776. He criticized United States neutrality between Spain and its erstwhile colonies as a breach of faith and "came out with great violence against" Monroe's detachment.57 When Monroe refused to recognize the republics but sent a fact-finding mission to South America instead, Clay acidly contrasted the $30,000 cost of the mission to the mere $18,000 necessary to pay for an official minister to Buenos Aires. He angrily denounced those who said such matters were beyond the province of Congress and spoke passionately over the span of three days in March 1818 urging recognition. He was sorely disappointed at not only losing that vote, but by a resounding margin of 115 to 45 at that. So much for the Spirit of '76. When Monroe refused to recognize the republics but sent a fact-finding mission to South America instead, Clay acidly contrasted the $30,000 cost of the mission to the mere $18,000 necessary to pay for an official minister to Buenos Aires. He angrily denounced those who said such matters were beyond the province of Congress and spoke passionately over the span of three days in March 1818 urging recognition. He was sorely disappointed at not only losing that vote, but by a resounding margin of 115 to 45 at that. So much for the Spirit of '76.58 Monroe actually sympathized with the revolutionaries, but he could not risk a rupture with Spain by seeming to encourage the disintegration of its empire. Secretary of State Adams was negotiating with Spanish minister Don Luis de Onis to acquire Spanish Florida, but the talks were not going well and were beset by troubling events. When pirates and mercenaries overran Amelia Island on the east coast of Spanish Florida, Monroe authorized American military forces to oust the freebooters because they posed a threat to U.S. coastal trade and the southern border. These brigands had vague connections to Latin American revolutions, and Monroe knew that Spain did not want them on Amelia Island any more than he did. Yet he had to be careful, for any American military action against Spanish territory anywhere and for any reason threatened to spoil Adams's work. Even so, Monroe thought another military campaign in Spanish Florida to suppress violence by Seminole Indians on the Florida border was easily justified. The administration sent Major General Andrew Jackson into Florida to chastise those Seminoles, confident that the laws of nations sanctioned the pursuit of enemies across international borders.59 WHEN CLAY TOOK his family home after Congress adjourned in the spring, he was only vaguely aware of these developments. In Kentucky, friends applauded his stand on Latin America and his efforts to promote the West, and he stood for reelection to the Sixteenth Congress unopposed. In November, Clay returned to Washington without Lucretia and the children. Laura's fatal illness on the trip the previous year made them cautious, and James's fragile health as he approached his first birthday called for prudence. his family home after Congress adjourned in the spring, he was only vaguely aware of these developments. In Kentucky, friends applauded his stand on Latin America and his efforts to promote the West, and he stood for reelection to the Sixteenth Congress unopposed. In November, Clay returned to Washington without Lucretia and the children. Laura's fatal illness on the trip the previous year made them cautious, and James's fragile health as he approached his first birthday called for prudence.60 As Clay prepared for the trip, he heard troubling rumors about Jackson's campaign in Florida. Old Hickory, it was said, had taken Pensacola, the capital of Spanish West Florida. Clay noted that if this were true, Jackson had committed an unconstitutional act by attacking a foreign power without congressional approval.61 By the time Clay arrived in Washington in late fall, the capital was buzzing with additional news about the Florida invasion that rapidly pushed every other issue aside. Jackson's actions at Pensacola had been accurately described, which was bad enough, but there was more, much more, and it all spelled troubled for the administration politically and for the country diplomatically. By the time Clay arrived in Washington in late fall, the capital was buzzing with additional news about the Florida invasion that rapidly pushed every other issue aside. Jackson's actions at Pensacola had been accurately described, which was bad enough, but there was more, much more, and it all spelled troubled for the administration politically and for the country diplomatically.

Jackson had gone into Florida in early 1818 with orders to chastise Seminoles near the United States border. Secretary of War Calhoun included instructions not to molest any Spaniards or attack Spanish forts or settlements. Yet Jackson moved on St. Marks, a small Spanish post, where he demanded the garrison's surrender. At St. Marks, Jackson imprisoned an elderly Scottish trader, a British subject named Alexander Arbuthnot, for befriending the Seminoles. Old Hickory then headed east to scatter Seminole towns near the Suwannee River. There another British subject, a former British Royal Marine captain named Robert Chrystie Ambrister, fell into American hands. Returning to St. Marks, Jackson convened a court of his senior officers to try Arbuthnot and Ambrister for inciting the Seminoles to make war on the United States. The court convicted and sentenced both to die, but Ambrister threw himself on his captors' mercy with such sincerity that they reduced his sentence to a flogging and imprisonment. Jackson, however, had both men executed. He then marched on Pensacola, shelled it into submission, and forced the Spanish provincial governor to sign an instrument of surrender. Leaving an occupying force, Jackson headed home.62 Jackson's two-month campaign had cut more than a wide swath in Florida. In addition to chastising Seminoles, which was the sole official purpose of his invasion, Jackson had summarily hanged two unoffending Indians and had murdered two British subjects. The Indians had not even had a trial, but considering the drumhead court-martial of Arbuthnot and Ambrister, it would not have mattered. Jackson obviously intended to ignore rulings if they ran counter to his wishes. He also obviously intended to ignore the orders that prohibited any attack on Spaniards. He had forcibly taken both St. Marks and Pensacola. Jackson's campaign was not just diplomatically inexcusable and domestically impolitic. It was illegal.

When news of these incredible exploits reached Washington, Monroe was in Virginia and the cabinet was scattered. Not until mid-July did the president and his secretaries frantically gather to craft a response that might justify to the British and Spanish embassies Jackson's murdering the former's citizens and assailing the latter's provincial government.63 Divisions immediately emerged. Calhoun and Crawford wanted Jackson punished for insubordination. Divisions immediately emerged. Calhoun and Crawford wanted Jackson punished for insubordination.64 Monroe paused short of that plain course of action, however, as did Attorney General William Wirt, who usually formed an opinion only after discovering the president's. John Quincy Adams alone defended Jackson, on the grounds that this show of force could convince Spain that the better course was to sell Florida to the United States instead of having it stolen. Aside from the diplomatic advantage that might result, Jackson was enormously popular with Americans, particularly westerners and southerners, and condemning him was risky. With such arguments, Adams persuaded Monroe and the cabinet to sustain Old Hickory in the face of both foreign outrage and domestic indignation. Calhoun and Crawford were not happy, but they consented to the plan. Monroe paused short of that plain course of action, however, as did Attorney General William Wirt, who usually formed an opinion only after discovering the president's. John Quincy Adams alone defended Jackson, on the grounds that this show of force could convince Spain that the better course was to sell Florida to the United States instead of having it stolen. Aside from the diplomatic advantage that might result, Jackson was enormously popular with Americans, particularly westerners and southerners, and condemning him was risky. With such arguments, Adams persuaded Monroe and the cabinet to sustain Old Hickory in the face of both foreign outrage and domestic indignation. Calhoun and Crawford were not happy, but they consented to the plan.

The United States was lucky that the British government's outrage was more designed to satisfy British public opinion than to menace America and that Spain was too distracted by its crumbling empire to go to war with anyone over anything. Through George Erving, the U.S. minister in Madrid, Adams told the Spanish government that its failure to control Florida Indians justified Jackson's invasion but that all territory would nonetheless be returned. The British backed away from a confrontation over the elderly Scot and the hapless freebooter, and the Spaniards grudgingly resolved to cut their losses by resuming talks over Florida, quietly grateful that Florida was still theirs to talk about.65 Monroe and the cabinet knew that many in Congress would be far more difficult to mollify, and John Quincy Adams especially worried about Henry Clay's reaction.66 True enough, some congressmen recoiled from attacking the popular Jackson, and others so strongly wanted territorial expansion that they were not fussy about how it was accomplished. But a substantial number in the legislature took congressional prerogatives under the Constitution very seriously, Speaker Clay foremost among them. True enough, some congressmen recoiled from attacking the popular Jackson, and others so strongly wanted territorial expansion that they were not fussy about how it was accomplished. But a substantial number in the legislature took congressional prerogatives under the Constitution very seriously, Speaker Clay foremost among them.67 To tread lightly around Jackson's popularity while placating Congress on the Florida affair, Monroe took contradictory positions in his annual message of November 16, 1818.68 He insisted that Andrew Jackson's behavior was justified and worthy of congratulation. Yet he also insisted that Jackson had not been authorized to take Spanish posts, which accordingly would be returned to Spain. This peculiar statement that sustained Jackson in one breath and disowned him in the next left Clay and others both bewildered and unsatisfied. Alabama's territorial governor, the former congressman and senator William W. Bibb, plainly stated these worries: "no man should be permitted in a free country to usurp the whole powers of the whole government and to treat with contempt all authority except that of his own will." He insisted that Andrew Jackson's behavior was justified and worthy of congratulation. Yet he also insisted that Jackson had not been authorized to take Spanish posts, which accordingly would be returned to Spain. This peculiar statement that sustained Jackson in one breath and disowned him in the next left Clay and others both bewildered and unsatisfied. Alabama's territorial governor, the former congressman and senator William W. Bibb, plainly stated these worries: "no man should be permitted in a free country to usurp the whole powers of the whole government and to treat with contempt all authority except that of his own will."69 Hoping to preempt Clay's assignment of the president's Florida explanation to its logical place, the unfriendly Committee on Military Affairs, Jackson supporters on December 8 tried to have it placed in the Committee on Foreign Relations, which was inclined toward Jackson. The debate on this purely procedural matter consumed two days and concluded with Military Affairs charged with examining the Florida affair. The debate also gave rise to questions about the constitutionality of Jackson's actions, but Clay reminded the House that the time to debate the war would come when the committees brought in their reports.70 The two committees went to work as Washington entered the holiday season nervously anticipating what stand Congress would take when it reconvened after the first of the year. The two committees went to work as Washington entered the holiday season nervously anticipating what stand Congress would take when it reconvened after the first of the year.

Clay made the rounds of Christmas parties that culminated with the most lavish of them celebrating New Year's. Foreign ministers and cabinet secretaries hosted gatherings at their homes, and "a magnificent ball at the Marine barracks" was followed by "a refulgent dinner at the President's." Concerts, plays, and performances by novelty acts such as magicians enlivened evenings during which everyone in the political establishment traded jests and raised glasses as if the best of friends. Attorney General Wirt cynically noted that there was "so much bowing-so much simpering-so much smiling-so much grinning; such fawning, flattering, duplicity, hypocricy [sic]-my head spun-my stomach turned." Clay, on the other hand, not only had the stomach for such socializing, he regarded the politicking that went with it as mother's milk and the events themselves as enjoyable amusements.71 The parties gave Clay a chance to discover attitudes about Jackson's actions in unguarded social moments. People were troubled, that much was clear, but Clay could not tell how many had the courage to criticize the Hero of New Orleans. Part of the answer came on January 12, when the Military Affairs Committee issued a majority report condemning Jackson for the trial and execution of Arbuthnot and Ambrister. Yet a minority report by the committee's chairman, Richard Mentor Johnson, endorsed Jackson's comportment as perfectly proper. Clay and Johnson, both Kentuckians and friends, had never disagreed on a political question. Soon, because of Andrew Jackson, they would disagree about almost everything.72 Legal, moral, political, and personal motives framed the three-week debate over Jackson's actions. Virginian states' rights advocates, for instance, expressed alarm over growing federal power, and others lamented the seeming congressional indifference to Monroe's constitutional nonchalance if Jackson were not condemned.73 Clay clearly disapproved of what Jackson had done, but his reasons for pursuing the course he chose during these weeks were subjected to suspicious scrutiny. Clay had met Jackson once a few years before. He had also handled a minor legal matter for Jackson in Kentucky, but all their contact had been through correspondence. Clay clearly disapproved of what Jackson had done, but his reasons for pursuing the course he chose during these weeks were subjected to suspicious scrutiny. Clay had met Jackson once a few years before. He had also handled a minor legal matter for Jackson in Kentucky, but all their contact had been through correspondence.74 Nothing suggests that Clay saw Jackson as a political rival, but as this affair unfolded, Old Hickory's popularity became increasingly evident, and some in retrospect supposed that Clay was delivering a preemptive blow. Others saw Clay as using the debates to undermine the administration, an extension of his other efforts to make Monroe and Adams sorry Clay had not been given State. Nothing suggests that Clay saw Jackson as a political rival, but as this affair unfolded, Old Hickory's popularity became increasingly evident, and some in retrospect supposed that Clay was delivering a preemptive blow. Others saw Clay as using the debates to undermine the administration, an extension of his other efforts to make Monroe and Adams sorry Clay had not been given State.75 Yet if Clay wanted to discomfit Monroe, he could have tied Jackson more effectively to the administration. Instead, as Jackson's passionate followers mounted fervent defenses of him and his actions, Clay's decision to challenge Jackson likely stemmed from motives similar to Calhoun's. If a United States Army officer could make war on his own initiative and execute captives without trial or under the cover of rigged tribunals, the Constitution meant nothing.76 Clay planned to come down from the Speaker's chair on January 20 to make a major speech on the Florida invasion. Announced in advance, the address was his most important since returning from Europe and led to a flurry of expectation. The Senate scheduled an adjournment to allow its members to attend, all the foreign ministers came to Capitol Hill, and the ladies of Washington appeared in droves to hear his voice. Observers had never seen such a crowd. The House gallery was packed to overflowing, and extra chairs were placed on the House floor to accommodate ladies. Spectators stood in the lobby and shoved for a place at the chamber door. Awaiting Clay, the assemblage raised a loud din of chatter over which laughter occasionally broke out as congressmen flirted with their female guests. When Clay finally rose to speak, however, "such a silence prevailed that tho' at a considerable distance," Margaret Smith "did not lose a word."77 He spoke for three hours. He intended to speak longer, but he started too loud and his voice gave out. Throughout he held his audience spellbound, and even those who disagreed with every word he spoke had to admit that his wit, sarcasm, and sincerity made for a masterful performance. Federalist Louis McLane detested Clay, but he freely conceded that the speech was "the most eloquent one I ever heard."78 And yet Clay's address on January 20, 1819, has most often been described as a serious miscalculation, for he not only attacked the popular Andrew Jackson, he also made in the space of three hours an implacable, relentless personal enemy. Clay claimed no personal hostility toward Jackson, but he could not defend behavior he found morally and constitutionally indefensible. Yes, Spain had clearly violated the treaty of 1795 that required it to control Indians within its borders, but that violation did not justify the wrong done by American forces when placed in historical perspective. The 181314 war with the Creek Indians had ended with Andrew Jackson's draconian peace that had forced many Indians into Florida, two of whom Jackson executed in this latest foray simply because he had found them. Killing "an unarmed and prostrate captive" was an unpardonable departure from the philosophy that defined Americanism and guided Americans, the culture that made the rule of law supreme over the will of a powerful man. In that regard, Arbuthnot and Ambrister's guilt or innocence was beside the point. More central was the question of whether they had been killed in accordance with the law after having access to due process. Jackson said that because they had allied themselves with Indians, the two were criminals, but where in the laws of nations was such a finding supported?

He addressed the broader implications of Jackson's constitutional transgression. The Constitution placed the power to make war exclusively with Congress, and everyone knew the sound reason for restricting that authority to the representatives of the people. The president clearly did, for he had assured Congress in March 1818 that the campaign against the Seminoles would not involve a foreign power, a statement Monroe believed to be true at the time. Yet on the very day that Monroe had sent Congress that assurance, Jackson was writing to the administration about his plan to take St. Marks, a plan that had Jackson exercising a power only Congress possessed. Jackson then announced that by destroying villages on the Suwannee, he had all but concluded his campaign, but Jackson subsequently interpreted the Spanish governor's protesting the unprovoked attack on Spanish territory as an affront and had marched on Pensacola.

Clay warned that allowing Jackson's behavior "to pass, without a solemn expression of the disapprobation of this House" would repeat the sad histories of Greece, of Rome, and of France. All of those glorious, free nations had relaxed restraints on their militaries and had paid the ultimate price for doing so. Americans had a duty to prevent "a triumph of the military over the civil authority-a triumph over the powers of this house-a triumph over the constitution of the land."79 He was done, and the House and galleries exploded in applause and cheers as Clay exited to the lobby. He sipped on a drink as colleagues extended hands, slapped him on the back, and heartily congratulated him on his triumph. It was gratifying, but when his eye settled on Margaret Smith sitting alone at the base of a stairway, he strode over to join her, "throwing himself most gracefully into a recumbent posture." People would remember him there, chatting with Mrs. Smith, occasionally acknowledging the repeated congratulations of passersby with a smiling nod, the toast of the Capitol making it appear perfectly natural to lounge smiling next to an elegant lady on the risers outside the House chamber.80 He was the toast of the Capitol at least for that day, but his friends had reason to worry that Clay's stance had done him long-term political injury. Although Clay had taken pains to avoid attacking Monroe or Adams, those supporting Jackson had had their suspicions about Clay's motives confirmed, at least in their own minds, and they tallied his speech as a score to be evened. Old Hickory's arrival in Washington three days after Clay's speech caused a stir among those eager to see matters evened right away. Richard Johnson had predicted that Jackson's temper would cause "a rattling among the dry Bones," but Clay had not meant his remarks as a personal attack, and he promptly called on Jackson to make that clear.81 Yet for Jackson everything touching upon him was personal, and he was decidedly chilly during Clay's visit. In addition, Jackson regarded the controversy over his Florida campaign as a conspiracy launched by a growing list of enemies. He set his henchmen to the task of smearing the motives of William H. Crawford, whom Jackson suspected of being his chief enemy in the cabinet, and William Lowndes as well as Henry Clay, his enemies in the House. Jackson was intent upon ruining their reputations for daring to criticize him. He threatened to cut off the ears of anyone who spoke against him. He considered challenging Clay to a duel but was waiting for Congress to adjourn, and cooler heads persuaded him to drop it. Yet for Jackson everything touching upon him was personal, and he was decidedly chilly during Clay's visit. In addition, Jackson regarded the controversy over his Florida campaign as a conspiracy launched by a growing list of enemies. He set his henchmen to the task of smearing the motives of William H. Crawford, whom Jackson suspected of being his chief enemy in the cabinet, and William Lowndes as well as Henry Clay, his enemies in the House. Jackson was intent upon ruining their reputations for daring to criticize him. He threatened to cut off the ears of anyone who spoke against him. He considered challenging Clay to a duel but was waiting for Congress to adjourn, and cooler heads persuaded him to drop it.82 Events and Jackson's popularity rather than his bullying threats saved him from formal censure. On February 22, Adams and Onis finally signed a treaty that ceded Florida to the United States. Later dubbed the Transcontinental Treaty because it also established the border between U.S. and Spanish territories all the way to the Pacific Ocean, it deflated Jackson's opponents and energized his supporters, now armed with proof that his Florida foray had paid real expansionist dividends. Richard Johnson and other Jackson men were the minority on the Military Affairs Committee, but they became a majority in the House itself, defeating the report condemning Jackson. In the Senate, a report denouncing Jackson never came to a vote.83 As a political controversy, the Florida affair ended unsatisfactorily for everyone. Jackson's opponents grimly surveyed what they perceived as serious constitutional wreckage resulting from the failure to discipline an arrant military leader disdainful of his superiors and contemptuous of the people's tribunals. Jackson was vindicated, but he brooded over criticisms that he snarled were merely the sniping of ingrates and schemers, men he marked as suspect in their love of country because they did not love him. He planned to settle scores eventually and had taken names. Henry Clay topped the list.

EVEN AS THE controversy over Florida blazed, another unexpected domestic crisis emerged. In a way, Clay had planted the seeds for it in December 1818 when he presented a memorial from the Territory of Missouri, in essence a request for admission to the Union. Clay had friends and family in Missouri and was interested in paving the territory's way to statehood. The request was routinely referred to committee, and there the matter remained, ticking. On February 13, 1819, it exploded. controversy over Florida blazed, another unexpected domestic crisis emerged. In a way, Clay had planted the seeds for it in December 1818 when he presented a memorial from the Territory of Missouri, in essence a request for admission to the Union. Clay had friends and family in Missouri and was interested in paving the territory's way to statehood. The request was routinely referred to committee, and there the matter remained, ticking. On February 13, 1819, it exploded.84 New York congressman James Tallmadge proposed an amendment to the Missouri enabling bill. The Tallmadge amendment said that no more slaves were to be brought into Missouri and provided for the gradual emancipation of children born to slaves already there. The House was in the Committee of the Whole to discuss the enabling bill, and Clay leaped to attack Tallmadge's proposal. Because of the late hour on Saturday, the House adjourned before opinions could be aired. It placed the matter on Monday's calendar. The weekend turned tense over the prospect of a serious quarrel.85 At first Clay was curiously blind to Missouri's potential for causing serious trouble. Federally funded internal improvements and the recognition of the South American republics remained his priorities.86 Yet southerners considered the Tallmadge amendment a portentous menace to sectional balance. Although in 1788, when the Constitution was adopted, the North and South were roughly even in wealth and population, the passing years saw the North growing richer and more populous, resulting in a growing northern majority in the House of Representatives. Only by maintaining equality in the Senate, where twenty-two free state senators were balanced by twenty-two from the slave states, could southerners hope to foil northern efforts to meddle with slavery. Restricting slavery in Missouri could set a precedent for the rest of the enormous Louisiana Purchase and encourage emancipationists elsewhere, possibly in the South itself. Yet southerners considered the Tallmadge amendment a portentous menace to sectional balance. Although in 1788, when the Constitution was adopted, the North and South were roughly even in wealth and population, the passing years saw the North growing richer and more populous, resulting in a growing northern majority in the House of Representatives. Only by maintaining equality in the Senate, where twenty-two free state senators were balanced by twenty-two from the slave states, could southerners hope to foil northern efforts to meddle with slavery. Restricting slavery in Missouri could set a precedent for the rest of the enormous Louisiana Purchase and encourage emancipationists elsewhere, possibly in the South itself.

The House debate on Tallmadge's amendment featured arguments for and against slavery that would become all too familiar in coming years. It also featured Henry Clay at his moral nadir on the slavery issue. He stood firmly with the proslavery side, voicing with seeming conviction arguments that would become a staple of slavery proponents. He compared slaves to northern factory workers to suggest that slaves were materially better off as to food, clothing, and shelter, the closest he ever came to describing the institution as a positive good, and something he would never do again. To his marginal credit, he did at least say that the existence of slavery was regrettable, but he disagreed with Tallmadge's presumption that Congress had the right to dictate slavery's status in any part of the Louisiana Purchase. As it happened, the point was timely because northerners were also seeking to eliminate slavery in the Arkansas Territory. When the vote on Arkansas yielded a dead-even division with 88 for and 88 against slavery, Clay cast his tiebreaking vote to keep slavery unrestricted in the new territory. It was not his finest hour.87 Rhetoric became alarming during the second day of debate on the Missouri question. Thomas W. Cobb threatened disunion if Tallmadge did not withdraw his amendment. The New Yorker, said Cobb, was kindling "a fire that all the waters of the ocean cannot put out, which seas of blood can only extinguish." Tallmadge darkly responded, "Let it be so! ... if civil war ... must come, ... let it come!" Under the shadow of such talk, the House narrowly passed the enabling bill with the Tallmadge amendment and sent it to the Senate, where southern strength succeeded in removing slavery restriction. The final session of the Fifteenth Congress ended with the fate of Missouri undetermined, giving the sections time to feed their unique anxieties over the question.88 Southerners gradually embraced the unnerving conclusion that northern antislavery rhetoric could incite slaves to rebellion, and northerners suspected that southern vehemence about Missouri signaled a design to spread slavery to all new territories west of the Mississippi. Meetings throughout the North instructed representatives to support the Tallmadge amendment.89 This first serious disagreement between the sections on slavery revealed the issue's uncanny ability to affect seemingly unrelated questions. For example, attempts to restrict slavery made southerners consider that expanding federal power wielded by growing northern majorities could lead to nationally mandated abolition. By way of such predictions, even the BUS became an unpopular symbol of an extensive federal reach that could affect slavery.

By 1819, the BUS had enough problems without adding sectional distrust to them. In that year, the first serious financial panic since Washington's presidency struck the nation hard, destroying businesses, closing banks, throwing enormous numbers out of work, and ushering in a lingering economic depression. The causes of this economic calamity were various, but land speculation figured prominently. The western branches of the BUS were deeply involved in these reckless investments, and the BUS in general had encouraged rather than restrained the dizzying credit spiral that resulted throughout the country. People unversed in the arcane formulas of discount rates and the relationships between sound credit and stable currencies knew only that when they lost their homes or saw their local banks driven to failure by called loans, the BUS was the culprit.

Consequently, when the House revived questions about the Bank's constitutionality, Clay was disturbed. He had already suffered a constitutional setback on internal improvements with Madison's veto of the Bonus Bill, and he was greatly relieved when the Supreme Court weighed in favorably on the Bank shortly after the congressional session ended. In the case of McCulloch v. Maryland, McCulloch v. Maryland, Chief Justice John Marshall ruled that federal agencies could not be impeded by states, a decision in which he famously declared that "the power to tax is the power to kill," and he also declared the Bank constitutional. Marshall could make the BUS legitimate, but his ruling could not make it popular. Chief Justice John Marshall ruled that federal agencies could not be impeded by states, a decision in which he famously declared that "the power to tax is the power to kill," and he also declared the Bank constitutional. Marshall could make the BUS legitimate, but his ruling could not make it popular.90 Clay returned home after Congress adjourned with the hope that the economic crisis was not as dire as reported, but what he saw was disheartening. During that spring and early summer, he traveled to New Orleans to see his brother John, purchase sugar to sell in Kentucky, and attend a dinner in his honor. As he returned home aboard the steamboat Napoleon, Napoleon, he saw the same suffering along the river that had shadowed his visit to the Crescent City. Bank failures and falling agricultural prices were compounded by a severe drought that left crops withering in the fields. The great Mississippi and Ohio were so shrunken that Clay had to leave the he saw the same suffering along the river that had shadowed his visit to the Crescent City. Bank failures and falling agricultural prices were compounded by a severe drought that left crops withering in the fields. The great Mississippi and Ohio were so shrunken that Clay had to leave the Napoleon Napoleon to travel overland, and he was late in returning to Ashland, thus missing James Monroe, who was on a western tour. to travel overland, and he was late in returning to Ashland, thus missing James Monroe, who was on a western tour.91 The panic's grim consequences further shaped Clay's strong views on economic development. He was convinced that the inability of the BUS to ward off the crisis was the result of the Bank's mismanagement rather than the Bank itself. More than ever the country needed a central fiscal agent to regulate credit and the currency, and the ouster of the Bank's inept president William Jones in favor of Langdon Cheves encouraged Clay. Thereafter, he took a more vigilant interest in the BUS and in due course managed its legal affairs in the West.92 JOHN QUINCY ADAMS claimed that some disgruntled congressmen wanted to prevent Clay's election to the Speakership of the Sixteenth Congress, but he again won the post in a lopsided vote. claimed that some disgruntled congressmen wanted to prevent Clay's election to the Speakership of the Sixteenth Congress, but he again won the post in a lopsided vote.93 Clay continued to promote Latin American independence and to protest flaws in the Adams-Onis Treaty. Clay continued to promote Latin American independence and to protest flaws in the Adams-Onis Treaty.94 But his forum was largely preoccupied with what was becoming a perennial crisis, for the Missouri question dominated the session, and Clay finally understood the importance of resolving it. On the most basic level, Missourians were angry at being treated differently from other territories because they happened to own slaves. Led by Thomas Hart Benton's St. Louis Enquirer, St. Louis Enquirer, Missouri's newspapers demanded admission on Missouri's terms. Benton had family connections to Henry Clay. He was named after Lucretia's father, Thomas Hart, who had been Benton's great-uncle. Colorful adventures marked Benton's progress from Tennessee to Missouri, including an alliance with Andrew Jackson that ended when the two tried to kill each other in a Nashville street brawl. That was in 1813, but in Missouri, Benton had risen to prominence as a newspaper editor and politician. He now expected "Harry of the West" to support Missouri's application. Missouri's newspapers demanded admission on Missouri's terms. Benton had family connections to Henry Clay. He was named after Lucretia's father, Thomas Hart, who had been Benton's great-uncle. Colorful adventures marked Benton's progress from Tennessee to Missouri, including an alliance with Andrew Jackson that ended when the two tried to kill each other in a Nashville street brawl. That was in 1813, but in Missouri, Benton had risen to prominence as a newspaper editor and politician. He now expected "Harry of the West" to support Missouri's application.95 That Clay only gradually focused attention on Missouri actually showed that he was more in touch with the country. For all the heat generated by the question, it remained an issue relatively confined to Washington politics. The territory understandably saw its statehood as the highest national priority, but the rest of the country felt that the economic crisis merited more attention from the government. Congress, however, ignored the rest of the country and took up where it had left off regarding Missouri. When the Maine district, a part of Massachusetts, with the state government's consent, requested admission to the Union as a separate state, southerners howled over the potential of further tilting the sectional balance, but perceptive observers saw in Maine an opportunity for a quid pro quo.

On December 30, 1819, Clay spoke about this to the Committee of the Whole. He had no objection to Maine's admission, but he wanted to know Missouri's fate before casting his vote. He thought it was fundamentally unfair to place restrictions on Missouri and none on new states in the East. He did more than suggest that the vote for Maine should be predicated on the vote for Missouri. Massachusetts congressman John Holmes, a resident of Maine, said that surely Clay's idea "did not extend quite as far as" to trade Maine for the unconditional admission of Missouri. Clay succinctly answered by muttering "Yes, it did," pausing between the words for emphasis, making each loud enough for everyone to hear. He then elaborated: no restrictions on the admission of states could be permitted, no matter their section or their situation. Surprised by the hostile reluctance to connect the New England and western requests, Clay was grateful that Congress had time to overcome it. Massachusetts had not yet worked out the details of Maine's separation, and time could calm tempers and light the proper way.

In this first great compromise of a career whose fame would rest largely on Clay's ability to craft conciliation and resolve contentious questions with mutual concessions, he realized that time was always reason's greatest ally. Given enough time, anything was achievable, the fieriest tempers would cool, the most rigid positions would bend. Wait, he told Holmes, and see. Northern votes passed the Maine enabling bill in the House, but southerners in the Senate had their cue. They insisted on linking Maine's admission to Missouri's.96 After a pause, Illinois senator Jesse Thomas stepped up with a plan. A moderate with strong southern ties, Thomas proposed not just the unrestricted admission of both Maine and Missouri but also a demarcation of the Louisiana Purchase at latitude 36 30, which was the southern border of Missouri. Except for Missouri, all states formed north of that line would be free; any states south of it had the option to choose slavery.

The proposal became famous as the Missouri Compromise, and within Clay's lifetime he would be erroneously credited for having framed it. Possibly the confusion resulted from his remarks suggesting the linkage of Maine and Missouri, but Thomas's plan as proposed in the Senate contained the significant addition of 36 30, which Clay had nothing to do with. Actually, Clay never publicly spoke for or against the Missouri Compromise, and he was in fact doubtful that it would calm rancor or long quell disunion. One Sunday morning as he left church services, then held in the Capitol, he told John Quincy Adams that within five years the nation would come apart to form three separate confederacies. It was a gloomy long-term forecast. In the short term, he glumly doubted that Thomas's plan could pass the House.97 Clay believed that the failure of compromise endangered the Union in a practical way. Sectional political parties would arise, further polarizing the country. When rumors predicted that northern Republicans would nominate one of their own rather than the incumbent James Monroe, he condemned the alleged movement. Despite his differences with Monroe, Clay saw great perils in any effort to unseat him.98 The Senate finally passed Thomas's compromise on February 17 and sent it to the House. Clay supported the compromise as the only reasonable solution but remained uncharacteristically pessimistic about its chances. The problem was that both southerners and northerners found different portions of it objectionable for different reasons, but those objections made opponents of the measure into unlikely allies against it. Only moderates like Clay with the strong support of President Monroe could push it through the House, but there weren't enough of them, and they failed.99 The House stubbornly voted yet again to admit Missouri under the Tallmadge amendment, which the Senate just as obstinately rejected yet again on March 2, sending back a bill admitting Missouri without restrictions and marking 36 30 in the rest of the Louisiana Purchase. Another House vote would likely have yielded the same insistence on including the Tallmadge amendment had not the implausible majority against it been broken by cleverly separating Missouri from the Missouri Compromise line. Each of these could attract slim majorities, as indeed they did. Neither side was satisfied, but when traversing difficult ground, the best that could be hoped for was that everybody was equally uncomfortable, more often than not the definition of political compromise. The House stubbornly voted yet again to admit Missouri under the Tallmadge amendment, which the Senate just as obstinately rejected yet again on March 2, sending back a bill admitting Missouri without restrictions and marking 36 30 in the rest of the Louisiana Purchase. Another House vote would likely have yielded the same insistence on including the Tallmadge amendment had not the implausible majority against it been broken by cleverly separating Missouri from the Missouri Compromise line. Each of these could attract slim majorities, as indeed they did. Neither side was satisfied, but when traversing difficult ground, the best that could be hoped for was that everybody was equally uncomfortable, more often than not the definition of political compromise.100 The following morning, however, John Randolph tried to upset the wagon and spill its cargo by demanding a reconsideration of the issue. Clay ruled Randolph out of order. House rules, he said, clearly required the completion of routine matters before any new business could be considered. Randolph unsuccessfully appealed and sat sulking as the House introduced petitions and committee reports. Occasionally Randolph piped up to repeat his motion, but he was each time ruled out of order. Finally, with all old business completed, Randolph offered his motion, but Clay announced that because the clerk of the House had already taken the Missouri bill to the Senate, it could not be reconsidered. Randolph was dumbfounded. He blurted that the clerk had violated a member's prerogative to ask for reconsideration, but his motion of protest was defeated too. Randolph sat fuming. Clay had done it to him again. Through a crafty use of parliamentary procedure, the Speaker made sure that the Missouri Compromise passed Congress.101 CLAY SUFFERED FINANCIAL reverses in the economic panic and decided not to place his name on the ballot in the upcoming summer elections. Instead, he would return to Kentucky, practice law, and try to restore his assets. His retirement was not meant to be permanent, but it did make urgent his desire to move on several important issues that had been shoved aside by the economy and Missouri. After the sectional crisis was resolved, Clay had only the remaining two months of this session and the second session in the winter of 182021 to promote the initiatives he valued most. reverses in the economic panic and decided not to place his name on the ballot in the upcoming summer elections. Instead, he would return to Kentucky, practice law, and try to restore his assets. His retirement was not meant to be permanent, but it did make urgent his desire to move on several important issues that had been shoved aside by the economy and Missouri. After the sectional crisis was resolved, Clay had only the remaining two months of this session and the second session in the winter of 182021 to promote the initiatives he valued most.102 The best Clay could accomplish for the Latin American republics was a narrowly successful resolution (80 to 75) asking the president to consider sending a minister to certain governments. In his impassioned speech for the resolution, Clay on May 10, 1820, first used the expression "American System" to describe not just national economic sovereignty but also the potential for hemispheric solidarity of a New World committed to republican liberty against the corrupt crowns of old Europe. Not until Spain finally concluded its deliberations on the Adams-Onis Treaty and ratified it in the fall of 1820, however, was there a chance for the United States to begin building such camaraderie. Clay's victory on the issue was at best partial.103 Clay went home in May. He had not seen his family in more than six months. Many constituents regretted his decision to retire, but Clay was determined to resume his law practice before returning in the fall for his last congressional session. The economic downturn had hit Lexington especially hard. The rapid contraction of credit collapsed the region's manufacturing production and agricultural yields as businesses shuttered their windows and the hemp market shrank. Other towns such as Louisville and Cincinnati on the Ohio River became rivals benefiting from the increasing prevalence of steamboats carrying passengers and hauling cargoes, making Lexington a sleepy outpost that would never recover its former commercial vitality. Clay's investments in the town's now slumbering economy nearly ruined him, and he briefly considered moving the family to New Orleans, where lawyers' fees were higher.104 He scrounged up business wherever he could, but not until the Bank of the United States hired him to represent it in Ohio and Kentucky was he able to make headway in restoring the Clay family coffers. When the BUS put him on a hefty retainer the following year, he finally began to see financial light at the end of the tunnel. He scrounged up business wherever he could, but not until the Bank of the United States hired him to represent it in Ohio and Kentucky was he able to make headway in restoring the Clay family coffers. When the BUS put him on a hefty retainer the following year, he finally began to see financial light at the end of the tunnel.105 Hard times had him looking everywhere for assets, especially to help his equally strapped siblings. The Virginia lands that included the plantation Euphraim that Clay's mother and stepfather had sold in innocent violation of John Clay's will were recovered through the efforts of a Virginia cousin, attorney Benjamin Watkins Leigh. The legal achievement was made sweeter by the warm letters between Leigh and Clay, the beginning of a lifelong friendship.106 In late October 1820, Clay resigned the Speakership with a letter to the clerk of the House.107 He arranged for Lucretia to move with the younger children into a house he rented in Lexington. She was in the last months of her eleventh (and last) pregnancy, and Clay wanted her close to her family during his absence. He placed Ashland's operations under an overseer. After celebrating Christmas with the family, Clay started out for Washington. He arranged for Lucretia to move with the younger children into a house he rented in Lexington. She was in the last months of her eleventh (and last) pregnancy, and Clay wanted her close to her family during his absence. He placed Ashland's operations under an overseer. After celebrating Christmas with the family, Clay started out for Washington.108 The congressional session began with a bruising battle to replace him as Speaker, a consequence of lingering rancor over Missouri. Clay had always been elected Speaker on the first ballot, but it took the House twenty-two ballots to elect John W. Taylor of New York to succeed him.

The presidential race for 1824 was also in full swing.109 In some ways, that contest had been shaping up since Monroe's election in 1816. Given the signal honor of being the last president to run unopposed, Monroe's reelection in 1820 had featured a nearly unanimous vote for him in the Electoral College with only a single elector opposing, keeping George Washington's record intact. In some ways, that contest had been shaping up since Monroe's election in 1816. Given the signal honor of being the last president to run unopposed, Monroe's reelection in 1820 had featured a nearly unanimous vote for him in the Electoral College with only a single elector opposing, keeping George Washington's record intact.110 At the start of Monroe's second term, presidential aspirants immediately became more obvious in their campaigning. Three members of Monroe's cabinet-Adams, Crawford, and Calhoun-stood at the pinnacle above a number of lesser lights seeking the prize as well. Nobody thought that Clay's leaving the legislature meant his permanent retirement from public life, and the presidency did indeed beckon him. Crawford correctly perceived that "there are but few men who have less relish for retirement than Mr. Clay." At the start of Monroe's second term, presidential aspirants immediately became more obvious in their campaigning. Three members of Monroe's cabinet-Adams, Crawford, and Calhoun-stood at the pinnacle above a number of lesser lights seeking the prize as well. Nobody thought that Clay's leaving the legislature meant his permanent retirement from public life, and the presidency did indeed beckon him. Crawford correctly perceived that "there are but few men who have less relish for retirement than Mr. Clay."111 Clay found the House in the midst of reducing the military as part of the political games between Crawford's and Calhoun's congressional supporters. Clay applauded retrenchment during difficult economic times, but it also helped that army reduction would legislate Andrew Jackson out of the military.112 Most of all, though, Clay hoped at last to compel Monroe to recognize the Latin American republics. He again pushed through a resolution favorable to that course but was exasperated when the Missouri controversy reappeared to disrupt congressional business, this time in another guise. Most of all, though, Clay hoped at last to compel Monroe to recognize the Latin American republics. He again pushed through a resolution favorable to that course but was exasperated when the Missouri controversy reappeared to disrupt congressional business, this time in another guise.

When the previous session had passed the Missouri Compromise, Congress gave Missouri leave to draft a state constitution, and a convention soon produced a document that called for a law prohibiting free blacks from entering the state. Northerners said the clause plainly violated Article IV, Section 2, of the U.S. Constitution, which states that "citizens of each state shall be entitled to all Privileges and Immunities of citizens of the several states." Because free blacks could be citizens in several northern states as well as Tennessee and North Carolina, barring them from Missouri infringed on their "Privileges and Immunities." A large majority in the House refused to approve Missouri's constitution, and the hard-won compromise of the previous year threatened to unravel.

Missouri already considered itself a state and had sent Thomas Hart Benton and David Barton to the Senate and John Scott, previously the territory's congressional delegate, to the House. The Senate at least seated Benton and Barton, though without voting privileges, and agreed to admit Missouri, leaving it to the courts to rule on the offending part of the state constitution. The northern majority in the House, however, insisted that Missouri change the state constitution as a condition of admission.113 The threat that the Republican Party would divide along sectional lines reemerged as southerners again threatened disunion. For a month, Clay worked within the Committee of the Whole and behind the scenes to craft a compromise.114 He proposed and then chaired a sectionally balanced committee of thirteen to work out a solution. After a week, its majority report recommended Missouri's admission if it promised not to pass any laws discriminating against the citizens of another state. A lengthy debate on February 12 ended with the proposal failing 83 to 80. The following day, with the measure under reconsideration, Clay "alternately reasoned, remonstrated, and entreated" for almost an hour. He managed to bring two additional votes to his side, but several opponents absent for the first vote now swelled the ranks against the bill, and it again failed, 88 to 82. He proposed and then chaired a sectionally balanced committee of thirteen to work out a solution. After a week, its majority report recommended Missouri's admission if it promised not to pass any laws discriminating against the citizens of another state. A lengthy debate on February 12 ended with the proposal failing 83 to 80. The following day, with the measure under reconsideration, Clay "alternately reasoned, remonstrated, and entreated" for almost an hour. He managed to bring two additional votes to his side, but several opponents absent for the first vote now swelled the ranks against the bill, and it again failed, 88 to 82.115 And there the matter stood when a joint congressional session gathered to count the electoral vote from the fall presidential election. The procedure was more a formality than usual, since Monroe had run unopposed, but the complication of what to do with Missouri set the stage for a dramatic confrontation. Like any other state, Missouri had presidential electors and expected them to be counted. A joint committee chaired by Clay recommended to the House that Missouri be included in the tally unless someone objected, in which case two votes would be taken, one with and one without Missouri. It was an ungainly solution, but the House consented, and the president pro tempore of the Senate, John Gaillard of South Carolina, began calling out the states and their totals.116 Everyone grew edgier as Gaillard neared Missouri. When he finally called out the purported state's name, New Hampshire congressman Arthur Livermore leaped up to object that Missouri was not a state and its votes could not be included. John Floyd of Virginia came to his feet just as quickly to shout that Missouri was most certainly a state and its electors most certainly would be counted. Floyd put his sentiment into a motion, and the national legislature dissolved into bedlam as members shouted objections and shook fists. The Senate walked out. The House finally calmed down enough to try to sort matters out, but John Randolph kept debate lively with wild remarks and dire predictions. Clay gained the floor to remind everyone that the House had already decided how to handle any objection. He suggested tabling Floyd's motion to allow the legislature to fulfill its constitutional duty of electing James Monroe. Upon reflection, that sounded sensible. The Senate reappeared, the tally was completed, and two totals were recorded. The country was fortunate that it did not, in this case, matter what they were.117 The Missouri question remained unresolved as ratifications on the Transcontinental Treaty were finally exchanged on February 22, but the treaty's conclusion calmed northern fears that Texas would serve as an avenue of southern expansion. The prospect of maintaining balance in the Senate weakened objections about Missouri, and on that very day Clay proposed that a joint committee of twenty-three representatives and seven senators craft a solution for Missouri. The resulting proposal echoed that of Clay's House committee on February 12: Missouri would not interpret its constitution as allowing the passage of a law infringing on the "Privileges and Immunities" of citizens of other states. Work behind the scenes made for an abbreviated debate in the House and a favorable result of 87 to 81 for this final compromise, Henry Clay's principal contribution to resolving the Missouri controversy. Missouri made the required pledge and became a state on August 10, 1821.

As the session closed, Clay thanked Speaker Taylor for presiding with fairness during a difficult time, and privately he expressed cautious optimism that "wisdom and prudence may keep us united a long time, I hope for ever."118 It was not to be forever, for slavery only slumbered, and only for the time being. It was not to be forever, for slavery only slumbered, and only for the time being.

AFTER CONGRESS ADJOURNED on March 3, Clay remained in Washington for a couple of weeks to attend to business and argue cases before the Supreme Court. He wanted the government to pay him additional compensation of $4,500 for expenses incurred while he negotiated the commercial treaty with Great Britain, and he applied directly to James Monroe for the sum. Adams violently objected. Not only was Clay seeking the same level of compensation Adams had received as a senior diplomat, he had gone directly to Monroe rather than through Adams at the State Department. Adams told Monroe not to approve the money. Monroe, however, consulted Attorney General William Wirt, who saw nothing untoward about Clay's request. Monroe approved it. on March 3, Clay remained in Washington for a couple of weeks to attend to business and argue cases before the Supreme Court. He wanted the government to pay him additional compensation of $4,500 for expenses incurred while he negotiated the commercial treaty with Great Britain, and he applied directly to James Monroe for the sum. Adams violently objected. Not only was Clay seeking the same level of compensation Adams had received as a senior diplomat, he had gone directly to Monroe rather than through Adams at the State Department. Adams told Monroe not to approve the money. Monroe, however, consulted Attorney General William Wirt, who saw nothing untoward about Clay's request. Monroe approved it.119 Adams and Clay were thus again at odds when Clay called on him just before leaving for Kentucky. The visit was on the surface a courtesy call, but Clay was obviously checking on the status of his payment. Adams played along, though, and they parted on friendly terms. Later that evening he ruminated in his diary about Henry Clay, a man he would never understand, try as he might. Clay was "an eloquent man, with very popular manners and great political management," but like so many important men in the country he was "only half educated." Adams thought Clay's "morals public and private, are loose, but he has all the virtues indispensable to a popular man ... and the sort of generosity which attaches individuals to his person." It was a pensive observation.

A few days later, one of Clay's friends approached Adams to sell him a ticket to a farewell dinner planned in Clay's honor. Adams snapped that he would buy the ticket but could not attend. He later sniffed to his diary that such dinners were not an American practice and accused Clay of importing an obnoxious British custom.120 Rarely did John Quincy Adams mislead his diary, his closest confidant. He knew very well that such dinners were a fashionable way to pay tribute to prominent men throughout the country. He did not admit to his diary that he had never been treated to one. Rarely did John Quincy Adams mislead his diary, his closest confidant. He knew very well that such dinners were a fashionable way to pay tribute to prominent men throughout the country. He did not admit to his diary that he had never been treated to one.

Adams also had to entertain the likelihood that Clay was a rival for the presidency. No Speaker before the Civil War would use as effectively the precedents set by Clay to manage the House of Representatives or to wield his level of influence over legislation and policy. As a result, Americans would regard few nineteenth-century Speakers as men of sufficient vision and power to merit consideration for the presidency. Nobody doubted Clay's capacity for broad vision or his ability to wield power, qualities on vivid display as he had presided over the House, qualities that had not dimmed when he took his place on the floor. Nobody doubted that Henry Clay was presidential timber.

CHAPTER SIX.

"I Injured Both Him and Myself"

WHEN HE RETURNED home, Henry Clay was again treated to a sumptuous dinner, the type of display that John Quincy Adams regarded as "a triple alliance of flattery, vanity, and egotism." home, Henry Clay was again treated to a sumptuous dinner, the type of display that John Quincy Adams regarded as "a triple alliance of flattery, vanity, and egotism."1 Clay could not have disagreed more. He did not see his exit from politics as permanent, and he regarded these events as encouraging evidence of his persistent popularity. At the dinner, he continued his criticism of the Monroe administration for not recognizing Latin American republics, a fashionable stand to take in liberty-loving Kentucky. When the president finally acknowledged those new nations months later, Clay was vindicated, and Latin Americans would forever look gratefully upon him for being a friend during their early struggles. Clay could not have disagreed more. He did not see his exit from politics as permanent, and he regarded these events as encouraging evidence of his persistent popularity. At the dinner, he continued his criticism of the Monroe administration for not recognizing Latin American republics, a fashionable stand to take in liberty-loving Kentucky. When the president finally acknowledged those new nations months later, Clay was vindicated, and Latin Americans would forever look gratefully upon him for being a friend during their early struggles.2 When Clay returned home in the spring of 1821, Lexington still suffered from the economic slump, but it sustained its reputation as a cultural center, in part because Transylvania University attracted students from all over the nation. Clay continued to serve on the university's board of trustees during these years, a time in which Andrew Jackson's nephew was a student, as was young Jefferson Davis, the future president of the Confederacy. Yet times were hard in Lexington, and Clay made his situation worse by generously cosigning notes for friends who often left him responsible for their debts. He was fortunate that his reputation as an excellent attorney attracted a brisk business to his practice, and his profitable arrangement with the BUS allowed him to begin retiring his debt fairly quickly. He needed every penny.

While Clay had been away, Ashland had seen some changes. In February, Lucretia delivered their fifth son and last child, John Morrison Clay, named for Clay's father and brother and for his friend James Morrison. Clay secured an appointment for his second son, seventeen-year-old Thomas Hart Clay, to the United States Military Academy, and the boy left for New York during the summer of 1821 to begin an ill-fated adventure. His math skills were so deficient that he lasted only a few months before West Point dismissed him in early 1822, and then he did not show up to meet his father in Washington. Instead he squandered his travel money on a drunken gambling spree in New York City and remained stranded there until Clay managed to get him funds for the trip home. The West Point disaster and the New York romp shook Clay's faith in Thomas, who seemed determined to avoid responsibility and to cultivate debauchery.3 In the spring of 1822, a happier if bittersweet event occurred when Susan Hart Clay married Martin Duralde, Jr. The marriage folded Susan into an extended family of Clays in the Crescent City: Martin was the younger brother of Julie Duralde Clay, wife of John Clay, Henry's brother. Later that year, when the newlyweds moved to New Orleans, Anne Clay accompanied them for a visit. It was quite an adventure for Anne, who was fifteen. And it was difficult for Henry and Lucretia to see Susan embark on a new life away from them. She was only seventeen.4 Aunt Julie took Anne under her wing, and during the dazzling whirl of parties the girl met James Erwin, an entrepreneur with interests in New Orleans and Tennessee whose father, Andrew, was a prominent Tennessee businessman, politician, and, most notably, an opponent of Andrew Jackson. James had dash and elan, more in fact than Anne or her parents realized, and young Anne's heart didn't stand a chance. The speedy courtship resulted in a wedding the following fall in Lexington, possibly more bittersweet for Henry Clay than Susan's, because clever Anne was always his favorite.5 As if to compensate for the departure of the girls, Martin and Susan in 1823 gave the Clays their first grandchild, Martin Duralde III. As if to compensate for the departure of the girls, Martin and Susan in 1823 gave the Clays their first grandchild, Martin Duralde III.

But indescribable sadness was yet to devastate Ashland in 1823. Early that year, fourteen-year-old Lucretia Hart Clay became ill and grew steadily worse through the spring. Never a strong child, she took a sharp turn for the worse in May, and by June her racking cough and bloody sputum revealed that she was dying of tuberculosis. Clay canceled all long-distance travel and refused cases in Ohio. He and Lucretia were at their little girl's bedside when she died on June 18, 1823, the third of their daughters who would forever be a child.6 IN EARLY 1822, Clay argued cases before the U.S. Supreme Court, breezed through the Washington social scene, and visited Richmond, Virginia, as a commissioner for the state of Kentucky in order to resolve a land dispute between Kentucky and Virginia. Clay argued cases before the U.S. Supreme Court, breezed through the Washington social scene, and visited Richmond, Virginia, as a commissioner for the state of Kentucky in order to resolve a land dispute between Kentucky and Virginia.7 His arrival in Richmond marked a homecoming and included pleasant reunions with old boyhood friends such as Tom Ritchie, who had become the influential editor of the Richmond His arrival in Richmond marked a homecoming and included pleasant reunions with old boyhood friends such as Tom Ritchie, who had become the influential editor of the Richmond Enquirer. Enquirer. Clay tried to persuade Ritchie to abandon his allegiance to states' rights and embrace a nationalist program. Ritchie was courteous but unconvinced. Clay tried to persuade Ritchie to abandon his allegiance to states' rights and embrace a nationalist program. Ritchie was courteous but unconvinced.

Richmond's hospitality was typically lavish-Clay was treated to a grand parade through the middle of town on his way to the statehouse-and its citizens were appreciative of their guest. An overflowing crowd including many ladies heard Clay's "most impressive" address of three hours in which he laid out Kentucky's case in the land dispute and appealed to Virginians' pride by expressing his delight at sharing their heritage. His suggestion for arbitration came to nothing, however, and he turned his efforts to securing a rehearing of the 1821 Supreme Court ruling against Kentucky in Green v. Biddle Green v. Biddle by drafting an amicus curiae ("friend of the court") brief. Clay's brief was the first such document submitted to the Supreme Court, a groundbreaking gesture that has since become a commonplace in cases before the Court. The justices agreed to revisit the case but again ruled against Kentucky. Rather than closing the matter, however, considerable confusion continued in years to come as Kentucky defied Virginia's attempts to recover title to disputed lands, and not until a statute of limitations came into play was the issue resolved. by drafting an amicus curiae ("friend of the court") brief. Clay's brief was the first such document submitted to the Supreme Court, a groundbreaking gesture that has since become a commonplace in cases before the Court. The justices agreed to revisit the case but again ruled against Kentucky. Rather than closing the matter, however, considerable confusion continued in years to come as Kentucky defied Virginia's attempts to recover title to disputed lands, and not until a statute of limitations came into play was the issue resolved.8 Clay almost exhausted himself with his work for the BUS. His friend Langdon Cheves had taken over a bank in crisis with its books full of bad loans and had set about saving the institution by restricting credit for both state banks and individuals. Cheves hired Clay and other attorneys to bring suit to collect delinquent loans. Clay also helped the BUS to recover $100,000 from Ohio, taxes levied in defiance of McCulloch v. Maryland. McCulloch v. Maryland.9 The debt cases posed a ticklish problem for a man with political ambitions. Clay urged leniency and recommended extensions in many instances, but his association with the Bank during hard times made him unpopular in some circles, even in Kentucky. As in other states, the Kentucky legislature debated whether the state should help debtors, an argument that gave birth to two factions, the Relief and Anti-Relief parties. The Relief Party, advocating moratoriums on foreclosures, suspected Clay because of his association with the BUS. Although Clay tried mightily to stay above this fray, the issue would eventually lose him significant political support and rupture long-standing friendships as well. He needed both because he had decided to return to Congress and was considering a run for the presidency.10 The field was crowded. As early as 1822, a dozen aspirants were already testing the presidential waters. Some were long shots, such as Vice President Daniel D. Tompkins, whose alcoholism made his chances slim. New York governor DeWitt Clinton, an avid proponent of internal improvements, had gained luster by shepherding the Erie Canal into construction, and William Lowndes was a respected South Carolina statesman. But Clinton could not shake his regionalism, and Lowndes died before the campaign commenced. In the end, only a few noteworthy contenders actually stood as rivals, chiefly Crawford, Adams, and Calhoun, all members of Monroe's cabinet and consequently powerful because of their patronage. Clay also had to worry over disquieting stories out of Tennessee about Andrew Jackson's plans. A Jackson candidacy could seriously damage Clay's chances in the West.11 For the time being, though, the other candidates seemed most formidable. William H. Crawford was not solely a southern candidate, for his national appeal was evident in the coveted support of New York's powerful Albany Regency. When Republican politicians under the leadership of Senator Martin Van Buren had joined to control New York's complex network of factions, local interests, and egocentric personalities, Van Buren was hailed as a miracle worker for magically cobbling together this workable faction, informally called the Bucktails. His decision to back Crawford was a ringing endorsement of the Georgian's electability. Van Buren did not back losers.

John Quincy Adams, peppery and shrewd, had ruled the State Department for six years with a cool head and an unwavering resolve, and there was no question that he was eminently qualified for the presidency. Yet he labored under the handicap that many people did not much like him. Even those who did, after a fashion, could muster little enthusiasm for a man who seldom smiled and often snarled. As the secretary of state, he occupied the post from which both Madison and Monroe had moved seamlessly to the presidency, as much a tradition as anything could be in a government less than four decades old. Despite a feigned indifference to honors and office, Adams was eager to see the tradition continued.

The man who sat across from Crawford and Adams in Monroe's cabinet meetings was an interesting study in talent, industry, and guile. John C. Calhoun had not been Monroe's first choice for the War Department, nor even his second. But he proved himself tireless, diligent, and innovative in that post, and he surmounted the deficit of his youth-he was only forty-one in 1823-with such unremitting competence that others wondered where his ambition would lead him next. Perceptive observers, including Adams, deduced that Calhoun was quietly ruthless and ready to bowl over anyone who stood in his way. The truth of the matter was more complicated than that. Born into middling circumstances in a South Carolina Scots-Irish community, Calhoun rose through hard work and natural aptitude. His family made sacrifices to send him to good schools, first his brother-in-law Moses Waddell's Academy, and then Yale, where Calhoun established himself as something of a prodigy.

He married money. Floride Colhoun, John's first cousin once removed, was eleven years his junior, from the well-to-do side of the family, and fetching in her own right if a bit high-strung. She was an heiress to a fortune that allowed John to pursue politics and afforded them an opulent style of living. Their courtship had been ardent, although the one love poem that John had written to her oddly began every stanza with a lawyerly "Whereas," a portent of his behavior after their marriage, which was always kind but never again passionate. Nonetheless, men envied Calhoun for his beautiful, rich wife and his seemingly charmed political career, and they admired him for his talent as well as his dark and rugged good looks. Yet almost nobody liked him.

It was easy to see why. It was not just the stately house called Oakly (later known as Dumbarton Oaks), which had been purchased for the couple by Floride's mother. Nor was it because of his graceful wife who smelled of verbena and money, or even Calhoun's arresting stare that signaled a first-class mind unwilling to suffer ordinary mortals, let alone the fools among them. It was the impression that Calhoun was both enormously principled and thoroughly insincere, a humorless man who chuckled only when cued by the laughter of those who got the joke. In the fall of 1821, Calhoun promised Crawford his support for the presidency but privately mocked his colleague and characterized his possible election as a national calamity. By the following spring he was openly hostile toward Crawford, and by the summer of 1822 he was disparaging Adams as well.

Ambition did not so much change John Calhoun as it revealed him. Shy by nature, he drove himself to become a successful public man. His candidacy became for him a great religious crusade, a messianic mission to save the country from certain destruction. It was as good an excuse as any for public rectitude and private treachery. Those who saw only the rectitude supported him; those who felt the treachery distrusted him.

Clay thus weighed the weaknesses and the strengths of his rivals. He planned his resumption of public service with a run for the Eighteenth Congress, scheduled to convene in the late fall of 1823. His easy victory in August 1822 gave him more than a year before his return to Washington. He could arrange his affairs and quietly begin the letter-writing campaign to advance his presidential candidacy. In addition to his demanding legal workload, though, he battled chronic health problems. Never physically vigorous, Clay suffered from frequent colds and other infections that were occasionally debilitating. During 1822 and 1823 he was frequently under the care of physicians. Often bedridden, he read irritating reports in newspapers that described him as dying. The rumors hurt his viability as a presidential candidate.12 Other events in 1822 also undermined Clay's chances. In January, Congressman John Floyd of Virginia called for President Monroe to release correspondence between the government and the American peace commissioners at Ghent, hoping that it would reveal how Anglo-Indian relations had affected negotiations. Among those papers was Jonathan Russell's letter to Monroe, then secretary of state, alluding to disagreements in the delegation and promising to send another communication with details. That subsequent letter of February 1815 was not in the files, but Russell, now in Congress, obligingly supplied a copy. Russell's copy described John Quincy Adams as willing to sacrifice all western interests, including the navigation of the Mississippi, to retain New England fishing rights.13 Clay's friends chortled, confident that Adams could never recover from revelations that would cost him every vote outside New England. Yet Russell's original letter soon turned up and proved to be seriously at odds with Russell's supposedly true copy. Clearly the "copy" was a fabrication to hurt Adams, and many suspected that Clay was the author of the scheme if not the letter. Adams certainly thought so and was prepared to class him with Calhoun as willing to stoop low to achieve the presidency. Clay distanced himself from Russell, and Adams eventually wrote a damning refutation that made Russell look deceitful, which he likely was, and foolish, which he most certainly was.14 Moreover, Adams's refutation turned the regional tables on Clay by depicting him as advocating only western interests at Ghent. The two briefly pounded each other in the newspapers before dropping the matter, possibly because Clay could see no advantage in challenging the memory of a man who rose hours before dawn to scrawl the minutiae of his life in a diary. This early round went to Adams. Moreover, Adams's refutation turned the regional tables on Clay by depicting him as advocating only western interests at Ghent. The two briefly pounded each other in the newspapers before dropping the matter, possibly because Clay could see no advantage in challenging the memory of a man who rose hours before dawn to scrawl the minutiae of his life in a diary. This early round went to Adams.15 During the summer and fall of 1822 a much greater threat to Clay's candidacy came from the unexpected ambitions of a man completely outside the political establishment. Andrew Jackson, formerly a major general in the U.S. Army, had become a national symbol of all that was right or could be right about America. He was astonishingly popular with the public. Like Calhoun a generation after him, Jackson had risen from the ranks of the poor Scots-Irish of South Carolina, but unlike Calhoun, he had not gone to fine schools and married wealth. Instead, Jackson had gone to Tennessee and married another man's wife. In that coarse western country, lanky, long-faced Jackson carved out a life to mimic the ways of a gentleman by acquiring property and influence until he resembled a gentleman as much as anyone else in his neighborhood did. He was like Clay in that accomplishment. It was on the battlefield, though, that he achieved a celebrity that would have been remarkable for any place or any time. Jackson was a self-taught tactician; by nature he knew how to attack and by canny intuition when to defend. The War of 1812 provided him with the stage to display these talents, which were happily blended with Jackson's prodigious resolve. At New Orleans in January 1815, he validated the judgment of those ragtag soldiers who had dubbed him "Old Hickory."16 Stories about the adulation of a grateful nation immediately became part of American lore. New Orleans began the practice of naming things after him. A tavern keeper in North Carolina, it was said, pulled out an ancient bar tab from Jackson's youthful carousing days and scrawled on it PAID IN FULL AT NEW ORLEANS. PAID IN FULL AT NEW ORLEANS. He might as well have spoken for the entire nation, which seemed prepared to forgive Jackson not only his debts but all of his lapses as well. He might as well have spoken for the entire nation, which seemed prepared to forgive Jackson not only his debts but all of his lapses as well.

As it happened, there were quite a few lapses. Jackson's bad temper was made doubly dangerous by a touchy sense of personal honor. The result was a life dotted with enough violence to give credence to tales that the Hero of New Orleans was actually a brawling thug unfit for polite society. He was just the man for taking care of marauding Indians or invading Redcoats, but was precisely the man to avoid when the business was taking care of republican government. As his behavior in Florida showed, Jackson often reacted in ways that confirmed that judgment. Clay's criticism of Jackson in that incident was, in Jackson's eyes, evidence of a Washington cabal, one that included treachery in Monroe's cabinet, where Jackson was certain Crawford was his most determined enemy. When Jackson threatened to slice off the ears of anyone who questioned his judgment, enough bodies and body parts lay in his wake to suggest he meant it.

The American people did not care. That kind of popularity sooner or later assumes its own dynamic and generates its own magnetism. Some people saw early on that this unlikely man was becoming irresistibly emblematic to the American people. Some of these visionaries were longtime friends, some were political opportunists jumping on an accelerating bandwagon, but they all whispered the word "presidency" in Jackson's ear. They became his handlers as well as his supporters, taking on the task of shaping him to match the image the people had already embraced. In July 1822, his handlers persuaded the Tennessee legislature to nominate him for the presidency, but political observers outside Tennessee interpreted it as a meaningless tribute to an aging hero. Clay even considered the possibility that antiwestern forces had engineered Jackson's nomination in order to divide the region's vote and elect an easterner. Surveying the supposedly empty honor afforded to Jackson, Clay saw the fine hand of John Quincy Adams.

In retrospect they were all curiously blind to what was about to happen, but the ordinarily sagacious political professionals who misread these events could be excused for misinterpreting the signs. Jackson was fifty-six and seemed physically spent from a hardscrabble life. Many thought he would be content to retire to the Hermitage, his home outside Nashville. He himself claimed this was his only desire. Political observers outside Tennessee reassured each other that he was telling the truth. His handlers, however, were only getting started. Jackson remained coy about his candidacy, but his friends were steely-eyed and serious. They next secured Jackson's election to the United States Senate. He would take his seat at the same time Clay returned to the House.17 ALTHOUGH CLAY UNDERESTIMATED Jackson, he saw the wisdom in obtaining a state nomination of his own. A nod from Kentucky would not be nearly as important as one from another state, and he spent the summer and fall of 1822 urging friends in Ohio to boost him in the Buckeye legislature. Clay's occasional advocacy of southern interests, such as his ambiguous stand on slavery in the Missouri debates, hurt him in the North, though. A Republican caucus in Ohio endorsed him in January 1823, but it was hardly as ringing as the approval of the entire legislature, and it was only a rump caucus at that. Jackson, he saw the wisdom in obtaining a state nomination of his own. A nod from Kentucky would not be nearly as important as one from another state, and he spent the summer and fall of 1822 urging friends in Ohio to boost him in the Buckeye legislature. Clay's occasional advocacy of southern interests, such as his ambiguous stand on slavery in the Missouri debates, hurt him in the North, though. A Republican caucus in Ohio endorsed him in January 1823, but it was hardly as ringing as the approval of the entire legislature, and it was only a rump caucus at that.18 For the rest of 1822 through 1823, Clay corresponded with supporters in Louisiana, New York, and Missouri to suggest ways to improve his organization. His friends offered advice as well. From New York, Peter Porter urged Clay to court the wily Van Buren away from Crawford. Yet Clay resisted the temptation to make promises he would find awkward to keep. He repeatedly declared his "fixed determination to enter into no arrangements, to make no bargains," to remain "free & unshackled, to pursue the public good" according to his best judgment. He also avoided controversies with rivals. He made no attacks and maintained "a perfectly decorous course." As other candidates were sure to drop away, he wanted his affability to appeal to their uncommitted supporters.19 If Jackson did not become a serious candidate, Clay already controlled most of the western vote, but he wanted to be more than a regional candidate. Taking Porter's advice, he tried to improve his standing in New York, where Van Buren and his Bucktail Republicans had made enemies trying to ram Crawford through the legislature.20 In Virginia, Clay hoped that hailing from the Slashes in Hanover County still counted for something. Just how much was difficult to say. His visit there in 1822 had not been encouraging, for Virginia Republicans suspected that Clay's nationalism would eventually diminish the South's influence. The Richmond Junto, a nebulous group of important Virginia Republicans tied together through kinship and financial alliances, supported Crawford. In Virginia, Clay hoped that hailing from the Slashes in Hanover County still counted for something. Just how much was difficult to say. His visit there in 1822 had not been encouraging, for Virginia Republicans suspected that Clay's nationalism would eventually diminish the South's influence. The Richmond Junto, a nebulous group of important Virginia Republicans tied together through kinship and financial alliances, supported Crawford.21 Garnering support in the East became more urgent as the likelihood of Jackson's candidacy became more obvious. Old Hickory was certainly acting like a candidate as he corresponded widely to assess the national strength of his rivals. Clay knew about the letters flying from the Hermitage across the nation, and he struggled to keep up. Shortly after the death of little Lucretia, however, he fell seriously ill. Confined to his bed and able to manage only brief trips into Lexington, Clay's legal practice suffered and his pen faltered. Soon rumors about his future competed with the truth. They said he would not take his seat in the Eighteenth Congress that December. Some said he was dying.22 He was still dangerously ill when he pulled his gaunt frame from the bed at Ashland to depart for Washington. He was still dangerously ill when he pulled his gaunt frame from the bed at Ashland to depart for Washington.

CLAY, ADAMS, AND Calhoun counted one another as foes, but at this point in their careers they essentially agreed that the country was best served by coordinated national initiatives ambitiously conceived and broadly executed. Yet the implementation of what Clay began calling the American System proved oddly out of phase with popular attitudes in the 1820s. Many Americans had grown wary of centralization, were increasingly opposed to the Bank of the United States, and were troubled by the prospect of paying for projects that were seen to help only distant locales. Crawford should have benefited from this emerging consensus for decentralization. With the exception of his support for the Bank (and even that was qualified), he opposed the expense and authority inherent in a nationalist agenda. Yet paradoxically, Crawford enjoyed almost no advantage from what should have been popular positions. Instead, many plain folk regarded him as the establishment's candidate because he was the favorite of the discredited Republican congressional caucus, and enemies painted his tenure at Treasury as marred by the corrupt use of patronage to purchase political support. Although he was the marginal favorite for having graciously stepped aside for Monroe in 1816, Crawford's star was partly dimmed by these charges of elitism and dishonesty. Crawford and Clay had been good friends until political rivalry caused them to grow apart. They remained cordial but wary as the campaign season commenced. Then, in the fall of 1823, as Clay lay ill at Ashland, something happened to Crawford that changed the entire dynamic of the upcoming election. Calhoun counted one another as foes, but at this point in their careers they essentially agreed that the country was best served by coordinated national initiatives ambitiously conceived and broadly executed. Yet the implementation of what Clay began calling the American System proved oddly out of phase with popular attitudes in the 1820s. Many Americans had grown wary of centralization, were increasingly opposed to the Bank of the United States, and were troubled by the prospect of paying for projects that were seen to help only distant locales. Crawford should have benefited from this emerging consensus for decentralization. With the exception of his support for the Bank (and even that was qualified), he opposed the expense and authority inherent in a nationalist agenda. Yet paradoxically, Crawford enjoyed almost no advantage from what should have been popular positions. Instead, many plain folk regarded him as the establishment's candidate because he was the favorite of the discredited Republican congressional caucus, and enemies painted his tenure at Treasury as marred by the corrupt use of patronage to purchase political support. Although he was the marginal favorite for having graciously stepped aside for Monroe in 1816, Crawford's star was partly dimmed by these charges of elitism and dishonesty. Crawford and Clay had been good friends until political rivalry caused them to grow apart. They remained cordial but wary as the campaign season commenced. Then, in the fall of 1823, as Clay lay ill at Ashland, something happened to Crawford that changed the entire dynamic of the upcoming election.23 Crawford had good reason to flee Washington, D.C., in the summer of 1823. The fetid swamps around the capital bred sickness in the hot months, and he sought relief from the heat and refuge from disease by traveling to the nearest high ground, the rolling Blue Ridge of western Virginia.24 By the time Crawford arrived at James Barbour's home, however, he was seriously ill. Barbour anxiously summoned a local doctor who was probably imperfectly skilled. Most doctors were trained rather than educated, serving as apprentices to established practitioners, watching and learning from men who had received their inadequate training the same way. Armed with a deficient medical arsenal, the doctor attending Crawford waded into battle and made a terrible mistake. Thinking Crawford suffered from a heart malady, the doctor administered digitalis, an extract of the poisonous foxglove plant and toxic if incorrectly dosed. In fact, it was an extremely dangerous drug. The measure separating a fruitless from a fatal dose could be less than a drop. The doctor gave Crawford too much. With his heart beating wildly out of control, Crawford suffered a massive stroke and began to die. By the time Crawford arrived at James Barbour's home, however, he was seriously ill. Barbour anxiously summoned a local doctor who was probably imperfectly skilled. Most doctors were trained rather than educated, serving as apprentices to established practitioners, watching and learning from men who had received their inadequate training the same way. Armed with a deficient medical arsenal, the doctor attending Crawford waded into battle and made a terrible mistake. Thinking Crawford suffered from a heart malady, the doctor administered digitalis, an extract of the poisonous foxglove plant and toxic if incorrectly dosed. In fact, it was an extremely dangerous drug. The measure separating a fruitless from a fatal dose could be less than a drop. The doctor gave Crawford too much. With his heart beating wildly out of control, Crawford suffered a massive stroke and began to die.

Miraculously, he clung tenaciously to the slenderest thread of life. When the initial crisis passed, he was paralyzed and blind, his mouth twisted, his tongue thick and nearly speechless. What had happened was kept secret, and for the most part the effort was successful, though word that something was wrong at the Barbour mansion reached at least one neighbor. In October, the elderly Thomas Jefferson, who no longer left home for much of anything, traveled from nearby Monticello to visit Crawford, rumored to be ill but convalescing. In Crawford's darkened room, Jefferson gazed sadly at the withered form and spoke words of encouragement to the vacant eyes. This was a man dead but for the dying.

In November, a stricken but still breathing Crawford returned to Washington. Working at the Treasury proved too taxing, and he went into seclusion at his home on the corner of Massachusetts Avenue and Fourteenth Street, where he lay motionless, his eyes swollen and crusted shut with a new infection, the room's shutters closed against any light.

A growing din of gossip naturally speculated about Crawford's condition and the presidential contest. His rivals, including Henry Clay, measured the changed landscape and weighed how Crawford's impending death could help their causes.25 WHILE CLAY HAD lain ill for so long that summer and fall, family and friends had begun to worry that he might not recover. He took the waters at Olympian Springs, and his physicians put him on "the blue pill" for dyspepsia, but he did not improve. In November, starting toward Washington and certain that he would have to head south for his health soon after reaching it, Clay took matters into his own hands. He purchased a small carriage and a saddle horse and resolved to ignore his doctor's prescriptions and stop all medication. On the journey, he alternated between the carriage, the horse, and hiking, and arrived in Washington in fine fettle. In fact, he would remember that his stamina had never been better, and he was prepared to work like a horse. lain ill for so long that summer and fall, family and friends had begun to worry that he might not recover. He took the waters at Olympian Springs, and his physicians put him on "the blue pill" for dyspepsia, but he did not improve. In November, starting toward Washington and certain that he would have to head south for his health soon after reaching it, Clay took matters into his own hands. He purchased a small carriage and a saddle horse and resolved to ignore his doctor's prescriptions and stop all medication. On the journey, he alternated between the carriage, the horse, and hiking, and arrived in Washington in fine fettle. In fact, he would remember that his stamina had never been better, and he was prepared to work like a horse.26 Washington was buzzing with rumors about Crawford, but it was also speculating about Andrew Jackson's ability to forgive and forget those who had condemned his conduct in the Seminole War. Jackson's journey from Nashville to Washington resembled a royal progress, with cheering crowds lining the streets of every town and village along the way. Children threw flowers, ladies waved handkerchiefs, and militias paraded with paunchy veterans at their head. Jackson was the picture of dignity, a paragon of calm, for his handlers intended for Old Hickory to make all of his enemies his friends, starting with Henry Clay.

Clay already knew from contacts in Tennessee about Jackson's plans to rehabilitate his image, so he was not surprised when Jackson and Tennessee senator John Eaton invited him to dinner. After a pleasant evening, Jackson and Eaton drove Clay back to his rooms on Ninth Street, where they parted as friends. Clay was not deceived by the show of cordiality, but he played along like a good veteran of such charades.27 Jackson's popularity could not touch Adams's in New England, but it undermined Crawford, Calhoun, and Clay in their key strongholds. In addition, Old Hickory's team of tenacious and discerning political operatives proved just as effective on the road as in Tennessee. They not only controlled their candidate but shaped public opinion with a network of newspapers that placed Jackson far ahead of rivals who fashioned their campaigns on outmoded rules and timeworn traditions. Calhoun was an early casualty of the Jackson machine. The South Carolinian hoped to establish national credentials by building support among Pennsylvania's political elite and securing the state's nomination. Jackson's supporters, however, bypassed the party bosses to create an effective grassroots network throughout Pennsylvania. The result was an event that stunned the political world when a convention in Harrisburg endorsed Jackson for president and named Calhoun his running mate. Lacking essential northern support, Calhoun dropped his presidential bid and accepted second place on a Jackson ticket. That Calhoun also appeared on the Adams ticket in some states emphasized his appeal and pointed to the sagacity of Jackson's highly professional organization in claiming him when they could. Their business was to win an election, and there was not an amateur among them.28 Many thought the election for Speaker was a reliable indicator of whether Clay or Crawford could attract more significant support, for it pitted Clay against Crawford supporter Philip Barbour. Clay's overwhelming victory seemed proof of Crawford's waning fortunes, but Crawford's adherents insisted it meant no such thing.29 Worse, Crawford's already abysmal health worsened further in December, and false optimism about his recovery was growing as ineffective as it was tedious. Martin Van Buren consequently decided that the only way to save Crawford's candidacy was to secure the Republican congressional caucus's nomination. Worse, Crawford's already abysmal health worsened further in December, and false optimism about his recovery was growing as ineffective as it was tedious. Martin Van Buren consequently decided that the only way to save Crawford's candidacy was to secure the Republican congressional caucus's nomination.30 The caucus had not met since 1816 and even then had been criticized as a discredited vestige of elitism. As most states broadened the franchise to attain universal white male suffrage, nominations from state legislatures or conventions became a more desirable alternative, but Crawford's health made that option unlikely. By necessity, the traditional if tarnished caucus became the only way to convince the nation that Crawford was the true Republican candidate.31 All the other candidates condemned the caucus, although Clay paused to weigh the possibility that it might choose him instead of Crawford. Finally convinced that it would not, he too denounced it as undemocratic.32 Crawford's supporters moved ahead, though, and managed to convene something resembling the caucus of old. On the night of February 14, 1824, only 66 of the 216 Republican members of Congress nominated Crawford. Acting as if this meant something, Crawford's people audaciously offered the vice presidency to Clay and then to Adams, but had to settle for Albert Gallatin. The halfhearted belief that Gallatin might possibly deliver his home state of Pennsylvania to the ticket could not cloak this poignantly nostalgic gesture that tried to revive the halcyon days of Jefferson and Madison. In the end, Gallatin did Crawford more harm than good, but it was the caucus nomination that hurt Crawford the most. Opponents quickly tarred him as a creature of the elite. Crawford's supporters moved ahead, though, and managed to convene something resembling the caucus of old. On the night of February 14, 1824, only 66 of the 216 Republican members of Congress nominated Crawford. Acting as if this meant something, Crawford's people audaciously offered the vice presidency to Clay and then to Adams, but had to settle for Albert Gallatin. The halfhearted belief that Gallatin might possibly deliver his home state of Pennsylvania to the ticket could not cloak this poignantly nostalgic gesture that tried to revive the halcyon days of Jefferson and Madison. In the end, Gallatin did Crawford more harm than good, but it was the caucus nomination that hurt Crawford the most. Opponents quickly tarred him as a creature of the elite.33 SPEAKER CLAY KEPT on good terms with everyone by making fair committee assignments and allowing all reasonable debate. He promoted himself as the architect of the American System and was congenial rather than confrontational with the administration. Grateful that Monroe had finally recognized the Latin American republics, he enthusiastically supported the part of the 1823 annual message that became known as the Monroe Doctrine, a warning that the Americas were closed to new European colonialism, a position that complemented Clay's earlier call for hemispheric economic ties and cooperation. on good terms with everyone by making fair committee assignments and allowing all reasonable debate. He promoted himself as the architect of the American System and was congenial rather than confrontational with the administration. Grateful that Monroe had finally recognized the Latin American republics, he enthusiastically supported the part of the 1823 annual message that became known as the Monroe Doctrine, a warning that the Americas were closed to new European colonialism, a position that complemented Clay's earlier call for hemispheric economic ties and cooperation.34 Clay was not so enthusiastic about the section of the message that pledged to limit American involvement in Europe. He shared this concern with others such as Daniel Webster, who offered a resolution calling for American recognition of Greek revolutionaries seeking independence from the Ottoman Empire. Clay thought that Webster's resolution celebrated America's founding principles and revolutionary past, but others did not agree. The resolution failed, and though the administration did not support the Greek Revolution, Clay did not publicly disparage Monroe. The Speaker's goal as candidate was to avoid controversy and maintain a positive attitude.35 Privately he grumbled. When Monroe and Adams ignored his recommendation that William Henry Harrison be appointed minister to Mexico, Clay muttered that "favorites, fawners and sycophants" controlled the administration and that he would make no more recommendations.36 The appointment of his brother-in-law James Brown to head the far more prestigious embassy in France somewhat consoled Clay, though, and Nancy excitedly told Lucretia to send her a wish list of clothes to buy in Paris. Lucretia would need fashionable outfits, laughed Nancy, when she became First Lady. Lucretia could not have cared less. The appointment of his brother-in-law James Brown to head the far more prestigious embassy in France somewhat consoled Clay, though, and Nancy excitedly told Lucretia to send her a wish list of clothes to buy in Paris. Lucretia would need fashionable outfits, laughed Nancy, when she became First Lady. Lucretia could not have cared less.37 In the short term, Clay hoped his improved relations with the administration would smooth acceptance of his legislative program. Though he had originated none of the components of what he called the American System during this congressional session, they were increasingly regarded as his program, almost the equivalent of a modern political platform and proof that Clay was more than a regional candidate. An enthusiastic supporter declared that President Clay would take the nation to "the highest pinnacle" with his American System.38 To be sure, the Panic of 1819 and the depression that followed increased support for federally funded roads to revive commerce, but Monroe repeatedly vetoed efforts to pass such legislation. The challenge was to fashion a bill that Monroe could deem constitutional. The General Survey Bill of 1824 planned to have the Army Corps of Engineers survey projects to benefit the entire country.39 In a major speech to the House on January 14, Clay lauded the measure. Some projects, he said, were simply too large and expensive for individual states. If anyone doubted the constitutionality of harbor improvements and interstate roads, the Constitution empowered the government "to establish Post Offices and Post Roads," and Congress obviously had the authority "to build" them. In a major speech to the House on January 14, Clay lauded the measure. Some projects, he said, were simply too large and expensive for individual states. If anyone doubted the constitutionality of harbor improvements and interstate roads, the Constitution empowered the government "to establish Post Offices and Post Roads," and Congress obviously had the authority "to build" them.40 Strict constructionists like John Randolph countered that expanding the government's power to build roads eventually would give government the power to end slavery, another foreshadowing of how fears over this issue had begun to color southern perceptions of everything. Yet Randolph's mean streak compelled him also to parse Clay's grammar, diction, even pronunciation.41 Randolph's contempt likely stung Clay, for he was sensitive about his educational deficiencies, but in this setting and at this time it revealed more about Randolph's tin ear than Clay's shortcomings. Clay was able to express regret about his poor education while adding that he had been "born to no proud patrimonial estate." He continued, "From my father I inherited only infancy, ignorance, and indigence. I feel my defects; but, so far as my situation in early life is concerned, I may, without presumption, say they are more my misfortune than my fault." Thus Henry Clay began the myth of his youthful poverty while passively showing John Randolph to be pretentious and petty, besting him again, this time with such finesse that the thin-skinned Virginian did not even feel the spear. Randolph's contempt likely stung Clay, for he was sensitive about his educational deficiencies, but in this setting and at this time it revealed more about Randolph's tin ear than Clay's shortcomings. Clay was able to express regret about his poor education while adding that he had been "born to no proud patrimonial estate." He continued, "From my father I inherited only infancy, ignorance, and indigence. I feel my defects; but, so far as my situation in early life is concerned, I may, without presumption, say they are more my misfortune than my fault." Thus Henry Clay began the myth of his youthful poverty while passively showing John Randolph to be pretentious and petty, besting him again, this time with such finesse that the thin-skinned Virginian did not even feel the spear.42 And Clay won the point about the legislation as well. The General Survey Bill passed both houses and also the constitutional scruples of James Monroe, who signed it into law. And Clay won the point about the legislation as well. The General Survey Bill passed both houses and also the constitutional scruples of James Monroe, who signed it into law.

The tariff was another matter. Although economic hard times suggested that domestic manufactures and commerce were the keys to American prosperity, Clay faced significant obstacles in his effort to raise tariff schedules. Southerners bristled because the tariff had already raised the price of foreign imports and domestic goods while their agricultural staples, such as cotton, suffered in depressed markets. On the other end of the scale both economically and geographically, northeastern shippers were distressed because of diminishing European imports that the tariff made artificially expensive. They were against anything that worsened that situation.43 Clay's advocacy of higher tariffs was informed by his acquaintance with Irish-born Philadelphia publisher Mathew Carey, who wrote extensively about the advantages of a protective system and an integrated economy. Clay corresponded with Carey, whose influence is evident in Clay's major speech to the Committee of the Whole on March 30 and 31.44 It featured standard appeals to patriotism and described people hit by the recent economic crisis, but it also included a lesson in political economy that made this speech a methodical, logical argument stripped of Clay's customary rhetorical flourishes. Aiming his remarks at "the high-minded, generous, and patriotic South," he explained that protecting American industry would not blight the nation with factories and urban slums but would economically liberate it from Europe. In his conclusion, he prayed that "God, in His infinite mercy," would "conduct us into that path which leads to riches, to greatness, to glory." It featured standard appeals to patriotism and described people hit by the recent economic crisis, but it also included a lesson in political economy that made this speech a methodical, logical argument stripped of Clay's customary rhetorical flourishes. Aiming his remarks at "the high-minded, generous, and patriotic South," he explained that protecting American industry would not blight the nation with factories and urban slums but would economically liberate it from Europe. In his conclusion, he prayed that "God, in His infinite mercy," would "conduct us into that path which leads to riches, to greatness, to glory."45 The speech was hardly the stuff of schoolroom recitations (though he did use the phrase "American System" in its soon to be famous domestic context for the first time), but it gained wide currency, and Clay used it as a campaign document, distributing it in those states that benefited most from a tariff. His stand on the issue was not just political expediency, though. Clay became fixated on raising the protective tariff. He worked behind the scenes in Congress and buttonholed colleagues at social events. He was "ardent, dogmatical, and overbearing" and talked of little else.46 The Tariff of 1824 barely passed the House with a five-vote margin, but it passed, and the Senate followed suit after tacking on some harmless amendments. Clay laughingly celebrated like a schoolboy, tossing off a pun about Connecticut congressman Samuel Foot and New York congressman Charles Foote, who had defected from the pro-tariff ranks. "We made a good The Tariff of 1824 barely passed the House with a five-vote margin, but it passed, and the Senate followed suit after tacking on some harmless amendments. Clay laughingly celebrated like a schoolboy, tossing off a pun about Connecticut congressman Samuel Foot and New York congressman Charles Foote, who had defected from the pro-tariff ranks. "We made a good stand, stand," he quipped, "considering we lost both our feet. feet."47 As he had the General Survey Bill, Monroe signed the measure. The nation seemed well advanced toward embracing Henry Clay's American System, and it seemed reasonable to assume that it would soon embrace Henry Clay as well.

AS PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGNS almost always do, the campaign of 1824 became nasty. For a year, Illinois senator Ninian Edwards used the pseudonym "A.B." to publish a series of anonymous letters in the almost always do, the campaign of 1824 became nasty. For a year, Illinois senator Ninian Edwards used the pseudonym "A.B." to publish a series of anonymous letters in the Washington Republican Washington Republican accusing William Crawford of financial malfeasance. By the time Edwards was revealed as the author, he was on his way to Mexico to become its U.S. minister, but he openly accused Congress of negligence in not investigating his allegations. The House called for documents, and Clay appointed an investigative committee, but he was careful not to burn any bridges. He still had hopes that he could lure Crawford's supporters to his candidacy, and he was more than fair in choosing the committee members. Eventually it would exonerate Crawford-a whitewash, Adams privately complained, but he kept his opinion to himself to avoid alienating Crawford's supporters-but the charges of misconduct were the least of the Georgian's problems. He suffered a relapse that again confined him to his bed and revived rumors that he was dying. As 1824 wore on, he seemed certain to drop out of the presidential contest, one way or another. accusing William Crawford of financial malfeasance. By the time Edwards was revealed as the author, he was on his way to Mexico to become its U.S. minister, but he openly accused Congress of negligence in not investigating his allegations. The House called for documents, and Clay appointed an investigative committee, but he was careful not to burn any bridges. He still had hopes that he could lure Crawford's supporters to his candidacy, and he was more than fair in choosing the committee members. Eventually it would exonerate Crawford-a whitewash, Adams privately complained, but he kept his opinion to himself to avoid alienating Crawford's supporters-but the charges of misconduct were the least of the Georgian's problems. He suffered a relapse that again confined him to his bed and revived rumors that he was dying. As 1824 wore on, he seemed certain to drop out of the presidential contest, one way or another.48 Clay did not see the need to engage in macabre calculations about Crawford's viability. He had concluded that no candidate would score a majority in the Electoral College, which meant that under the Twelfth Amendment, the House of Representatives would choose the next president from among the top three finishers. Clay's experience in shaping congressional majorities under ordinary procedures might make his influence in the House's selection of the next president nearly irresistible. After all, under the rules that gave each state one vote, little states with a single congressman wielded as much clout as populous states with large delegations.49 Congress adjourned on May 27, 1824, and Clay returned home to direct his presidential efforts from Lexington. He hoped that his legislative successes would strengthen his cause, particularly in the Mid-Atlantic region. He spent that summer and fall trying to determine the states certain to fall in his column balanced against those that were merely possible or at worst unlikely. The varying ways that states chose presidential electors complicated these forecasts. Since 1800, many states had abandoned the seemingly undemocratic practice of having legislatures choose electors. Instead, statewide popular votes or the division of states into electoral districts became prevalent. In the latter instance, electors from different districts could fall to different candidates, making for a mixed outcome rather than the usual winner-take-all result. In states where legislatures still chose electors, the electoral vote could also be split among more than one candidate. As Clay tallied the possible results in these various settings, the cardinal imperative was not to win but to place among the top three. Crawford's condition more than suggested he would.50

Situated in a part of Hanover County, Virginia, called the Slashes, this modest but comfortable farm called "Clay's Spring" was the birthplace and boyhood home of Henry Clay. (Engraving from the authors' collection) In later years, as part of his political image, Clay's youth was framed on the notion that he had been "The Millboy of the Slashes." The myth became part of the common lore, as this fanciful illustration from a late-nineteenth-century juvenile biography shows. (From John Frost, The Millboy of the Slashes: Young Folks' Life of Henry Clay, 1887 1887) This 1793 letter from Henry Clay to Peter Tinsley is the earliest surviving document in Clay's handwriting. Written shortly after he began working as a clerk in the Virginia Chancery, it displays a more ornate penmanship than his mature handwriting, but it is hardly the work of an unschooled primitive. (Courtesy of the Transylvania University Library Special Collections) George Wythe was the chancellor of Virginia when Henry Clay became his clerk. A celebrated legal scholar and signer of the Declaration of Independence, Wythe was a kind mentor who helped to transform the boy from the Slashes into a confident young man. (Detail from "The Signers of the Declaration of Independence" by Ole Erekson, Library of Congress) Clay had become a fashionable gentleman by the time he moved to Lexington in the late 1790s. This miniature shows him a year before he vaulted onto the national stage to fill a vacancy in the United States Senate in 1806. (Engraving by D. Nicholls based on a miniature by Benjamin Trott, from Noah Brooks, Statesmen, 1893) Felix Grundy was an early opponent of Clay's in the Kentucky legislature, but he became a member of Clay's War Hawk faction in the Twelfth Congress. Emblematic of the shifting alliances of politics, Grundy later became a Jacksonian and is shown here while serving as Martin Van Buren's attorney general. (Library of Congress) Former vice president Aaron Burr's shadowy plans in the American West threatened to tarnish Clay's national career at its outset when Clay agreed to defend Burr in a grand jury proceeding. (Bust by Jacques Jouvenal, U.S. Senate Collection) One of Henry and Lucretia Clay's closest friends in Washington was Margaret Bayard Smith, a social maven whose observations of life in the capital provide valuable insight into the political workings of the early republic. (Library of Congress) As a member of the War Hawks, South Carolinian John C. Calhoun was one of Clay's most trusted lieutenants. His nationalism waned in the 1820s, however, and he became a rival and eventually an enemy. (Library of Congress) John Randolph of Roanoke suffered from a malady that kept him beardless and high-voiced for all his tortured adult life. He was a vicious political opponent and early on detested Henry Clay. They eventually fought a notorious duel, but by the time of Randolph's death in 1833, he grudgingly admired Clay. (Library of Congress) Clay liked President James Madison and, as did everyone, he adored Madison's smart and vivacious wife, unofficially "Cousin Dolley" to Clay because she had family connections in Hanover County. Yet Clay ultimately judged Madison as overwhelmed by the demands of the war with Britain and found vexing the president's constitutional reservations over Clay's legislative program. (Library of Congress) Ghent became the site of the negotiations to end the War of 1812. It was little changed when captured in this later photograph. Christopher Hughes described it as "a most delightful place, in every respect." (Library of Congress) Ornate dress and formal calling cards were part of the official kit for American diplomats abroad. Clay's "Ghent Coat" is a prime example. (Photograph by Mary Rezny, courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky) Swiss-born Albert Gallatin had served as Thomas Jefferson and James Madison's secretary of the treasury before his appointment to the American Peace Commission. He became indispensible in soothing arguments among his colleagues, especially those between John Quincy Adams and Clay. (Painting by Rembrandt Peale, courtesy of Independence National Historical Park) A century after the signing of the Peace of Ghent, this painting by Amedee Foriestier commemorated the event as "The Hundred Years' Peace." Lord Gambier shakes hands with Adams as Gallatin stands just behind him. Kit Hughes is in the foreground, and Clay is seated behind James Bayard. (Courtesy of Library Canada) The British occupied Washington, D.C., in August 1814 and burned several public buildings including the Executive Mansion and the Capitol, shown here as Clay would have seen it upon his return to Congress in 1815. (Library of Congress) While Clay was in Europe, Lucretia hired New Englander Amos Kendall to tutor the children at Ashland. She was kind to him and even saved his life when he fell gravely ill, but Kendall eventually turned on Clay when the Jacksonians proved more useful associates. (Library of Congress) South Carolinian Langdon Cheves was a War Hawk, and succeeded Clay as Speaker when Clay departed for Europe in 1814. Cheves became the president of the Second Bank of the United States in 1819 and eventually employed Clay to represent its legal interests in the western states. (Library of Congress) Clay supported James Monroe for the presidency in 1816 but was disappointed when Monroe offered him what Clay regarded as a minor cabinet post in the new administration. Clay remained in the House of Representatives. (Library of Congress) As revolutions swept across Latin America, Clay supported the efforts of fledgling republics to throw off Spanish rule. His stand earned him Latin America's enduring admiration and gratitude, and he is shown here holding a message of thanks from South American republics. (Courtesy of the University of Kentucky) William H. Crawford had long been a friend of Clay's, but disagreements over the BUS strained their relations. Crawford was also a rival for the presidency in 1824 and incredibly edged Clay out of contention despite being gravely ill. (Library of Congress) Acerbic and proud, John Quincy Adams irritated Clay when they served together at Ghent and irked him by taking the State Department post in Monroe's cabinet. Yet Clay supported Adams over Andrew Jackson in the House vote for the presidency in 1825. When Clay was made secretary of state, Jacksonians immediately labeled the arrangement the "Corrupt Bargain." (Library of Congress) Washington remained a rural village throughout the early nineteenth century, as this view of the Capitol in 1828 shows. Livestock can be seen grazing in the foreground. (Library of Congress) An unrelenting political assault on John Quincy Adams and Clay made Andrew Jackson's election to the presidency a certainty in 1828. Old Hickory would remain Clay's bitter enemy for the rest of his life. (Library of Congress) The Jackson-Clay clash provided abundant grist for cartoon mills during the eight years of Jackson's presidency. Titanic battles over the BUS and Nullification as well as Clay's 1832 presidential bid defined the period. (Library of Congress) Martin Van Buren was a master coalition builder who earned the nickname "Little Magician" for fusing factions first in Albany for New York State politics and then across the country as the architect of the Democratic Party. His magic, however, played out when he followed Jackson into the presidency. Through it all, Clay remained a friend despite their deep political disagreements. (Library of Congress) Kentuckian Richard M. Johnson was for years Clay's friend until he bolted for the Jacksonian camp in the 1820s. Once a dashing war hero (he was credited with killing Tecumseh during the War of 1812), Johnson had become slovenly and dissolute by the time he served as Van Buren's vice president. (Library of Congress) Francis Preston Blair was yet another Kentuckian who turned on Clay to become an enthusiastic Jacksonian. As editor of the Democrat newspaper The Washington Globe, Blair wrote many a venomous editorial condemning Clay and the Whigs in the most scurrilous terms. (Library of Congress) Abolitionist Joshua R. Giddings disagreed with Clay about gradual emancipation, but their abiding cordiality exemplified Clay's talent for keeping personalities out of personal differences. (Library of Congress) Clay's cousin Cassius M. Clay became an ardent opponent of slavery in Kentucky. His calls for immediate emancipation and his talent for poisonous prose ultimately estranged him from his kinsman. (Library of Congress) Only slightly younger than Clay, Aaron Dupuy was one of the slaves at Clay's Spring who was taken to Kentucky by Clay's mother and stepfather. He and his wife, Charlotte, remained with Henry Clay at Ashland for the rest of Clay's life. (Courtesy of the University of Kentucky) Charles Dupuy became Clay's personal servant in place of his father and accompanied him on his extensive travels. The artist John Neagle visited Ashland in 1842 to paint Clay's portrait and produced this sketch of Charles when he was in his mid-thirties. Clay freed Dupuy in December 1844. (Courtesy of Hugh R. Parrish III) New Yorker Thurlow Weed was called the "Wizard of the Lobby" for his remarkable influence over the state legislature in Albany. In a career that spanned four decades, he repeatedly worked to thwart Clay's presidential plans, never more effectively than in the 1840 contest. (Library of Congress) The aging former general William Henry Harrison supplanted Clay as the 1840 Whig nominee because Clay's supporters were outmaneuvered at the Harrisburg Convention. He took the disappointment in stride, but stories later circulated that he had been enraged at being passed over. (Library of Congress) Democrats tried to depict Harrison as a puppet of Henry Clay and, in this cartoon, Henry A. Wise. The charge was an exaggeration, but it made Harrison resentful and ultimately worked to turn him against Clay. (Library of Congress) In 1841, quarrels between the new Whig majority and Democrats spun out of control when Clay insulted Alabama senator William R. King. A duel was rumored, but friends arranged a public reconciliation. (Library of Congress) John Tyler became president when Harrison died on April 4, 1841. Tyler had been little more than a ticket balancer and the second half of a catchy slogan until then. He and Clay were on friendly terms at first, but that soon changed. (Library of Congress) Henry A. Wise became one of Tyler's allies in the fight with Clay over the establishment of a new national bank. Clay derisively labeled Tyler men "a corporal's guard," a phrase that combined with other incidents to make Wise an implacable enemy. (Library of Congress) Although always troubled by some measure of bad health, Clay in the early 1840s was at the height of his powers as he prepared for the 1844 presidential contest. (Retouched from Brady, courtesy of Henry Clay Simpson, Jr.) Whigs and Democrats both employed imagery and symbols left over from the 1840 Harrison candidacy, especially variations on the coonskin cap theme. Clay was referred to as the Old Coon by Whigs proud of his cunning and by Democrats condemning his alleged deviousness. (Courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky) The Democrat nominee in 1844 was Tennessean James K. Polk. The first "dark horse" candidate proved effective in the campaign, and his shrewd maneuvers along with an extraordinary amount of voter fraud defeated Clay, to almost everyone's astonishment. (Library of Congress) Theodore Frelinghuysen was a distinguished New York reformer who seemed a perfect running mate for Clay in 1844. Democrats distorted his ties to Protestant philanthropic organizations, however, to portray him as an anti-Catholic bigot. (Library of Congress; campaign ribbon courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky) Leslie Combs was one of Clay's most devoted friends. He called on Clay at Ashland after the 1844 defeat and found him profoundly disappointed but resigned to his loss. (Frontispiece from Narrative of the Life of General Leslie Combs, Narrative of the Life of General Leslie Combs, 1852 1852) By June, William Crawford could not utter a word, and his supporters scrambled to salvage what they could of a deteriorating situation. Expectations of Crawford's death fueled rumors that his camp might turn to Clay or at least put Clay in the vice-presidential slot. If Crawford died before the election, Clay would become their candidate. If Crawford died after winning the election, Clay would become the nation's president-elect. Martin Van Buren asked Thomas Hart Benton to put such a proposal to Clay, mindful that Benton was Lucretia's cousin. The family connection was immaterial to Clay, though, and Van Buren's offer did not interest him. He and Crawford fundamentally disagreed about the role and purpose of government, and nothing could cloak the brazen cynicism of the arrangement Crawford's friends proposed. He also found the prospect of advancing to the presidency over Crawford's dead body vaguely distasteful.51 In any case, Clay saw no reason to give up, as Calhoun had, and settle for the vice presidency. In fact, he was likely to land among the finalists in the House. By his reckoning, everything depended on Andrew Jackson in one regard and New York in another. Jackson's popularity in the West had eroded Clay's early strength in the region, and by summer, only Kentucky remained certain. Even in the Bluegrass, Clay's enemies were promoting a Jackson movement, distributing pamphlets in Kentucky and throughout the West extolling Jackson's selfless patriotism while accusing Clay of every moral and political sin imaginable. The message was that Clay was simply unfit for the presidency.52 The question of character has always been a staple of presidential elections, but it became an especially prominent issue in 1824 as Jackson's people questioned Clay's and lauded Old Hickory's. The tactic succeeded in planting seeds of doubt about Clay. The country, after all, was in the midst of the Second Great Awakening, a fundamentalist Christian revival of far-reaching political as well as social implications. Clay had earned repute as an effective political broker, but that made it easy to paint him as a backroom dealer. Clay made no secret that he drank spirits, but that made it easy to whisper that he was a drunkard. He was famous for gambling, and that made it easy to depict him as reckless. Adams primly speculated on Clay's excesses, estimating that his losses in 1823 alone amounted to more than twenty thousand dollars-a clear exaggeration, but a perception shared by many. Taken in sum, these opinions about Clay's character made him damaged goods. Typical was the assessment that Clay had served the country well but his bad habits made him unqualified for the highest office in the land.53 A North Carolina congressman described Clay as a "column that presents so beautiful a Corinthian capital" but "does not rest upon the broad basis of moral confidence." A North Carolina congressman described Clay as a "column that presents so beautiful a Corinthian capital" but "does not rest upon the broad basis of moral confidence."54 And Congressman Romulus Saunders accused Clay of suffering from a "laxity of principles." And Congressman Romulus Saunders accused Clay of suffering from a "laxity of principles."55 William Lenoir, another prominent North Carolinian, flatly declared that "a man who does not conduct himself morally" could not handle the "important business of a Government." William Lenoir, another prominent North Carolinian, flatly declared that "a man who does not conduct himself morally" could not handle the "important business of a Government."56 Of course, not everyone thought Henry Clay was a libertine. Responding to vivid stories about the drinking and gambling of his free-spirited youth, friends could rightly claim that he had grown out of such childish intemperance. Fair-minded political opponents liked Clay because they always knew where he stood on issues and admired him because he never concealed his opinions. And yet, for those opponents, fair-minded or not, Clay's oratorical talents presented the vaguely troubling prospect that "the influence and power which his eloquence" could give him as president would make him politically dangerous.57 Thus was it possible for his rivals to plant doubts about his character, his ambition, his past, and his plans, and even to use his strengths against him. If one did not know Henry Clay well, doubts found fertile ground; if one knew Henry Clay well, he seemed too good to be true, too talented to be trustworthy-a classic case of damned if he did, damned if he didn't. Thus was it possible for his rivals to plant doubts about his character, his ambition, his past, and his plans, and even to use his strengths against him. If one did not know Henry Clay well, doubts found fertile ground; if one knew Henry Clay well, he seemed too good to be true, too talented to be trustworthy-a classic case of damned if he did, damned if he didn't.

Given his image problem, Clay should not have neglected the newspapers. The other candidates had partisan presses to churn out plaudits and assail rivals, squelch rumors about their champions and start gossip about opponents, Jackson's being the most effective. But Clay was remarkably indolent about this indispensable facet of a national campaign. In the late summer, his tireless but frustrated operative Josiah Johnston courted editors for Clay in New York and Pennsylvania with some success, but it was too little, too late. "There is one advantage at least you enjoy by having no press," Johnston comforted Clay. "You provoke no hostility."58 Most damaging of all, Clay too slowly awakened to Jackson's astonishing popularity and the incredible efficiency and effectiveness of Old Hickory's handlers. They had made everyone else look like rank amateurs, starting with the masterful maneuvers that won Pennsylvania the previous fall. It was both amusing and sad how everyone had scrambled afterward, trying to gain traction as Jackson's people greased additional skids. Poor Crawford was the saddest: once robust, now felled like a dying oak, reduced to showing himself in painful carriage rides around the capital, trying to quiet rumors and wick away the stench of impending death.

Messengers from the Crawford camp approached Clay a second time to repeat the offer of the vice presidency, and again Clay said no. Clay also rejected other attractive bargains that would have helped him in crucial states. He refused to name DeWitt Clinton as his vice president, despite the boost it would have given him in New York. "I can make no promises of office, of any sort, to any one, upon any condition whatever," Clay told Johnston. Others might scramble, but Clay would not. "Whatever support shall be given by me, if any," Clay declared, "must be spontaneous and unbought."59 Johnston applauded his friend's scruples, but he likely regarded the sentiment as quaintly antique, especially while he rushed around key states trying to win support with his hooded eyes and courtly voice, all for a man too principled to win except on his own terms. Clay's attitude, in short, was frustrating. Nobody realized it would also prove profoundly ironic.

CLAY HAD TO capture a respectable number of New York's thirty-six electoral votes to land in the top three finalists for the House. To boost his chances, Clay's friends named former New York senator Nathan Sanford as his running mate, and rumors that Adams and Clay forces would join to eliminate Crawford from contention caused Van Buren to renew his attempts yet again to place Clay on Crawford's ticket. capture a respectable number of New York's thirty-six electoral votes to land in the top three finalists for the House. To boost his chances, Clay's friends named former New York senator Nathan Sanford as his running mate, and rumors that Adams and Clay forces would join to eliminate Crawford from contention caused Van Buren to renew his attempts yet again to place Clay on Crawford's ticket.60 Clay did not reject a temporary alliance with the Adams camp, and, growing nervous about his chances, he paused over Van Buren's offer. Jackson's candidacy had so excited the West that Clay doubted he could win the entire section, and without it, he would need a large eastern state to keep his chances alive. Crawford's grave condition-"a living death," one of Clay's friends told him-meant that if Crawford finished in the top three and Clay got him elected in the House, Clay might be in the White House within only a few months. Van Buren's pitch came with an air of urgency, because as autumn approached, the time for getting Clay on the ballot with Crawford in enough states was short.61 In the end, Clay rejected Van Buren's offer. Though it was tempting, it smelled, and Clay refused to hold his nose. Yet he framed his rejection in veiled language about not entering unseemly bargains. Van Buren judged such statements sufficiently ambiguous to warrant dumping Albert Gallatin from the vice-presidential slot on Crawford's ticket, a move that proved indirectly and unexpectedly disastrous for Clay. Gallatin's withdrawal gave the impression that Clay would replace him as vice president and quit the presidential race. His supporters in the West were further discouraged when Jackson partisans circulated reports that Clay had ceased to be a candidate for either office. Believing the stories, many Clay supporters did not vote for a man they believed was not running, thus suppressing Clay's totals.62 As the fall elections drew near, Clay outwardly maintained his characteristic optimism. He caught a bug, possibly from Theodore who had recently returned with a serious fever from visiting his sister Susan and uncle John in New Orleans, but he was convalescing when election returns began to form a sketchy picture.63 With good reason, he was confident about Kentucky, which he easily won, but his expectation of sweeping the upper Midwest grew dim as he prepared to return to Congress. His stand on the Missouri Compromise hurt him with antislavery forces in those states, and his legal work for the BUS alienated debtors in the region. He barely won in Ohio over a surging Jackson but lost in Illinois and Indiana where he had been the early favorite. Opponents had spread exaggerations about his gambling and condemned his owning slaves as a sign of inherent immorality. An Indiana newspaper invented a story that Clay had wagered ten slaves on drawing the longest straw from a stack of rye. With good reason, he was confident about Kentucky, which he easily won, but his expectation of sweeping the upper Midwest grew dim as he prepared to return to Congress. His stand on the Missouri Compromise hurt him with antislavery forces in those states, and his legal work for the BUS alienated debtors in the region. He barely won in Ohio over a surging Jackson but lost in Illinois and Indiana where he had been the early favorite. Opponents had spread exaggerations about his gambling and condemned his owning slaves as a sign of inherent immorality. An Indiana newspaper invented a story that Clay had wagered ten slaves on drawing the longest straw from a stack of rye.64 Clay left Ashland in mid-November, bound for Washington and certain that he had not won the election. But he had not expected to. He consoled himself that by his calculations, nobody else had won either. If all of Louisiana and part of New York fell in his column as he projected, he would make it into the final three in the House of Representatives. He correctly deduced that Adams and Jackson would be first and second in the Electoral College, though in which order he did not know, and once in the House, it would not matter. A careful observer made an apt horse racing analogy: "if Clay can be brought on the Turf, he will make sport, be sure of it!!"65 Clay journeyed to Washington without Lucretia. He wanted her with him, as always, but she resisted, and he finally let her stay at Ashland. Some have suggested that her reluctance revealed her growing reclusiveness and grief over her dead children. Yet she was likely more assertive about what she wanted after twenty-five years of marriage, and she had never found Washington appealing. In addition, she had a household to run with Eliza, James, and John still young children at eleven, seven, and three years, respectively. Though supposedly grown up, Theodore at twenty-two and Thomas at twenty-one worried her considerably as well. They studied law, but their labors were only intermittent, and both drank too much too often as they took an extraordinary amount of time deciding what to do with their lives. Only Henry Jr., almost fourteen at the end of 1824, exhibited discipline as well as ambition. His father increasingly placed his highest hopes on the boy's slender shoulders.

His most agreeable companion on the trip as Clay crossed into Virginia was the weather. The mildest autumn in anyone's memory had caused farmers to postpone their annual hog killings until the first heavy frosts, and late November continued warm and dry. On November 26, Clay stayed at the Albemarle Hotel, really only a roadside tavern near Charlottesville, and the following day he pulled up at Monticello to pay his respects to Thomas Jefferson. He planned to visit Jefferson and then James Madison at Montpelier for a few days before continuing to Washington.

Clay's visit with Jefferson was doubtless stimulating. The Sage of Monticello at eighty years was surprisingly robust, and his mind was as clear as his house was cluttered, both filled with a lifetime of artifacts, testaments to Jefferson's love of natural science. They would have talked about the objects strewn throughout Monticello's entrance hall, about the strangely warm weather, of course, and of crops and horses, and they likely shared stories about bad health, especially their chronic indigestion. They almost certainly talked about the election, although Clay's visit really was social rather than political.

Jefferson must have wondered what was happening to his country, sentiments that he likely left unspoken. He had been wrong about some things: wrong about using commercial restriction as a cudgel against Britain, wrong about conquering Canada by merely showing up, wrong even about his ideal republic, the one filled with educated yeomen who would come in from their plowing to read Homer at their hearths in the original Greek. Those farmers never had existed as Jefferson had pictured them, but they were spreading across the western landscape in another form, another kind of creature altogether, soon to be called Jacksonians.

Jefferson was depressingly right about other matters, especially slavery, which had caused the Missouri crisis-a "fire bell in the night," he had called it-and the regrettable compromise postponing rather than resolving the issue by drawing a line that Jefferson was sure would increasingly demark two peoples under one flag.66 Clay had been part of that, and Jefferson's favorite candidate had nearly died at a neighbor's house the year before, likely never to recover to advance Jeffersonian principles of limited government. Jefferson disagreed with Clay's notions about federal power, but he had to marvel that Andrew Jackson, a partially educated backwoodsman who always smelled faintly of bear grease, might ascend to the chair held by Washington, and all because of forty-five minutes' work outside New Orleans on the Chalmette Plain. And though Jefferson was almost certainly too courteous to say that Clay was not his first and probably not even his second choice for the presidency, we might wonder what the Sage of Monticello did say to Henry Clay about who should be the next president and what Henry Clay confided to Thomas Jefferson. Clay had been part of that, and Jefferson's favorite candidate had nearly died at a neighbor's house the year before, likely never to recover to advance Jeffersonian principles of limited government. Jefferson disagreed with Clay's notions about federal power, but he had to marvel that Andrew Jackson, a partially educated backwoodsman who always smelled faintly of bear grease, might ascend to the chair held by Washington, and all because of forty-five minutes' work outside New Orleans on the Chalmette Plain. And though Jefferson was almost certainly too courteous to say that Clay was not his first and probably not even his second choice for the presidency, we might wonder what the Sage of Monticello did say to Henry Clay about who should be the next president and what Henry Clay confided to Thomas Jefferson.67 Only days after Clay's visit, Daniel Webster visited Monticello and found Jefferson surprisingly animated in his denunciation of Andrew Jackson. "His passions are terrible," exclaimed Jefferson. "He is a Only days after Clay's visit, Daniel Webster visited Monticello and found Jefferson surprisingly animated in his denunciation of Andrew Jackson. "His passions are terrible," exclaimed Jefferson. "He is a dangerous man. dangerous man."68 JUST AS CLAY had predicted, the unofficial count in the Electoral College in late November had Jackson in the lead and Adams second, but third place remained in doubt. Clay had been confident that Crawford's illness would ultimately give not only Virginia pause, but New York and Louisiana as well, and that third place would be his. Yet bad news awaited him when he arrived in Washington. By then, the first week of December, unofficial returns had come in for all states except Louisiana. He had lost Virginia, and New York had dealt him a devastating blow. had predicted, the unofficial count in the Electoral College in late November had Jackson in the lead and Adams second, but third place remained in doubt. Clay had been confident that Crawford's illness would ultimately give not only Virginia pause, but New York and Louisiana as well, and that third place would be his. Yet bad news awaited him when he arrived in Washington. By then, the first week of December, unofficial returns had come in for all states except Louisiana. He had lost Virginia, and New York had dealt him a devastating blow.

Circumstances in New York had troubled Clay throughout the fall, and he finally admitted, "I know not the secret springs which have produced such a strange result in N. York. I have moved none of them."69 The secret springs were, in fact, a bizarre contrivance of shifting balances largely engineered by Adams men in the New York legislature. When that body met in November, enterprising Thurlow Weed and other Adams supporters struck a deal with Clay's faction to split New York's electors in a way favorable to Adams and Clay and at Crawford's expense. As proposed, Adams received 25 electors, Clay 7, and Crawford 4. By taking most of Adams's leavings and cutting Crawford's total, Clay would have placed third in the national canvass. The secret springs were, in fact, a bizarre contrivance of shifting balances largely engineered by Adams men in the New York legislature. When that body met in November, enterprising Thurlow Weed and other Adams supporters struck a deal with Clay's faction to split New York's electors in a way favorable to Adams and Clay and at Crawford's expense. As proposed, Adams received 25 electors, Clay 7, and Crawford 4. By taking most of Adams's leavings and cutting Crawford's total, Clay would have placed third in the national canvass.70 Yet the deal unraveled when the designated electors met on December 1 to cast their votes for president. Pressure from all sides skewed everything, but there was bad faith as well. Two of Clay's electors simply did not show up, and their absence allowed the other electors to choose Adams men as replacements. One Adams elector then switched to Crawford, and a Clay elector switched to Jackson, rendering a final count of Adams 26, Crawford 5, Clay 4, and Jackson 1. The tally moved Crawford to third nationally.71 Surveying the result, Clay had to agree with his supporters that the Adams camp had betrayed him. Thurlow Weed had used Clay's help to obtain the lion's share of New York's vote for the New Englander and, having accomplished his object, had blithely cast off the Kentuckian. Adams, after all, was more likely to defeat the invalid Crawford in the House of Representatives. With Van Buren protecting Crawford's interests and Weed tending to Adams's, Clay's people had been simply bamboozled. It was the first of many sleights of hand for Weed in a career that would span decades. As a boy, he had callused those hands on the family farm and on Hudson River work boats. Now an accomplished politician and newspaper editor at the tender age of twenty-seven, he was already working up calluses on his conscience, a requirement for a politician in Martin Van Buren's state and Andrew Jackson's America.

LOSING NEW YORK meant that Clay had to have all of Louisiana's five electors to move ahead of Crawford, an unlikely feat in a state dazzled by Jackson. Faithful Josiah Johnston resided in Louisiana, though, and he joined with other Clay supporters to assure him that they controlled the legislature, where, as in New York, the state's electors were chosen. Clay was not so sure. Bad news had begun to roll in with appalling frequency. Opponents had spread the story in Indiana, Illinois, and Ohio that he had allied with Crawford, and the lie gained enough currency to lose him the first two states while very nearly costing him the third. Clay heard how rumors describing him at death's door or as having abruptly withdrawn from the contest had further eroded his support in key areas, including the all-important Louisiana. A sense of helplessness dampened his jaunty optimism, and the rebuff of the West injured his ego. Virginia had gone for Crawford, casting its lot with a blind invalid. Clay was reduced to donning a jolly manner while grimly waiting for news from the lower Mississippi. When that news arrived, first as rumor but soon in unofficial but verifiable reports, Clay knew the worst had happened. meant that Clay had to have all of Louisiana's five electors to move ahead of Crawford, an unlikely feat in a state dazzled by Jackson. Faithful Josiah Johnston resided in Louisiana, though, and he joined with other Clay supporters to assure him that they controlled the legislature, where, as in New York, the state's electors were chosen. Clay was not so sure. Bad news had begun to roll in with appalling frequency. Opponents had spread the story in Indiana, Illinois, and Ohio that he had allied with Crawford, and the lie gained enough currency to lose him the first two states while very nearly costing him the third. Clay heard how rumors describing him at death's door or as having abruptly withdrawn from the contest had further eroded his support in key areas, including the all-important Louisiana. A sense of helplessness dampened his jaunty optimism, and the rebuff of the West injured his ego. Virginia had gone for Crawford, casting its lot with a blind invalid. Clay was reduced to donning a jolly manner while grimly waiting for news from the lower Mississippi. When that news arrived, first as rumor but soon in unofficial but verifiable reports, Clay knew the worst had happened.72 He should have won Louisiana. His friends were perfectly right: he had the votes in the legislature. But fate and shrewd maneuvers by his opponents denied him the prize. As for fate, two legislators pledged to Clay suffered a carriage accident on the way to the vote and missed it. Second, the same rumors that had injured him in Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois had flown to Louisiana as if on wings. He was to be Crawford's vice president, said one; he was so discouraged that he had quit the race, said another. Such talk disheartened Clay's supporters, leaving the door open for the other camps to make their move.73 His people were bested by yet another set of deals by politically ruthless men with cold calculation. Andrew Jackson's considerable following in Louisiana obviously derived from his exploits at New Orleans and the careful concealment of his opinions, if he had any, about tariffs and other potentially unpopular subjects. Only a small minority of Louisiana legislators supported John Quincy Adams, but each man's supporters knew that at the end of the day their candidates were certain to be among the top three finalists before the House of Representatives. Events in Louisiana were thereafter steered by a Jackson-Adams alliance to exclude Henry Clay from the finalists, giving Jackson or Adams-as to which one, they would hash out later-a better chance of winning the presidency in the House of Representatives. The result was a split ticket that gave Jackson three Louisiana electors and Adams two. Even though he had controlled more legislators than either Jackson or Adams, Clay did not receive a single electoral vote from Louisiana.74 With this news, Clay finally knew he had not just lost but had been eliminated. Jackson had 99 electoral votes, Adams 84, Crawford 41, and Clay 37. The 7 votes Clay should have received from New York with the 5 from Louisiana would have pushed Crawford to a relatively distant fourth, and Clay could have worked his magic in the House, the plan he had long envisioned as the only way to become president in the 1824 election.

It was all rather humiliating, especially to lose to an invalid who couldn't read a state paper, sign his name, or speak clearly enough for even close friends to understand him. In Clay's estimation, that described Andrew Jackson too, leaving off the invalid part. And capping the many injuries was an insult to Clay's intelligence. Thurlow Weed later transparently lied by claiming that his behavior in New York was based on a pledge that the agreement with Clay's men would only hold if Clay won in Louisiana. Anyone with a calendar knew that New York had made its decision long before news from Louisiana could have influenced it. Weed intuitively knew that in politics the audacious lie is always the best one.75 THE WEEKS THAT followed the news of his defeat gave Clay ample opportunity to salve his wounded pride. As the capital hummed with anticipation about how the House would resolve the inconclusive election, its members overwhelmingly reelected Clay their Speaker, proof that he still wielded considerable power. He threw himself into an unceasing social whirl of parties where pretty girls giggled over his harmless flirtations and, tellingly, friends of Jackson, Adams, and Crawford fetched him drinks and chuckled over his slightest witticisms. Always outwardly jovial, Clay masked his disappointment and became privately amused at this transparent courtship by his former rivals. "I enjoy the rare felicity, whilst alive," he marveled, "which is experienced by the dead." Having lost the contest, but not his influence, he was placed in the extraordinary position of using that influence to choose the next president. He chucked over "hearing every kind of eulogium and panegyric pronounced upon me." followed the news of his defeat gave Clay ample opportunity to salve his wounded pride. As the capital hummed with anticipation about how the House would resolve the inconclusive election, its members overwhelmingly reelected Clay their Speaker, proof that he still wielded considerable power. He threw himself into an unceasing social whirl of parties where pretty girls giggled over his harmless flirtations and, tellingly, friends of Jackson, Adams, and Crawford fetched him drinks and chuckled over his slightest witticisms. Always outwardly jovial, Clay masked his disappointment and became privately amused at this transparent courtship by his former rivals. "I enjoy the rare felicity, whilst alive," he marveled, "which is experienced by the dead." Having lost the contest, but not his influence, he was placed in the extraordinary position of using that influence to choose the next president. He chucked over "hearing every kind of eulogium and panegyric pronounced upon me."76 He was having an enormously good time. He was having an enormously good time.

Meanwhile, the social event of Washington's season loomed when Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch du Motier, better known to Americans as the Marquis de Lafayette, arrived in the capital to coincide with the last session of the Eighteenth Congress.77 Begun the previous summer at Monroe's invitation, Lafayette's American tour everywhere had attracted immense crowds grateful for his service, nostalgic for the virtue of an earlier time, and eager to venerate a disappearing cohort of aging veterans. Lafayette, himself aged and infirm, nonetheless remained a vibrant symbol of the Revolution's idealism, a reminder of the long odds and improbable triumph of a motley people over the world's most powerful empire. He had toured much of the Northeast and had visited Yorktown on the anniversary of the British surrender. Now Washington prepared to honor him in peerless fashion. Begun the previous summer at Monroe's invitation, Lafayette's American tour everywhere had attracted immense crowds grateful for his service, nostalgic for the virtue of an earlier time, and eager to venerate a disappearing cohort of aging veterans. Lafayette, himself aged and infirm, nonetheless remained a vibrant symbol of the Revolution's idealism, a reminder of the long odds and improbable triumph of a motley people over the world's most powerful empire. He had toured much of the Northeast and had visited Yorktown on the anniversary of the British surrender. Now Washington prepared to honor him in peerless fashion.

Clay had met Lafayette in France almost ten years before and had stayed in touch ever since with fond letters. He greeted the elderly Frenchman warmly on the morning of December 10 for an intimate breakfast and suggested that Lafayette praise past American patriotism in his address to Congress later that day. Congress greeted Lafayette's remarks with more than ovations. It voted to give the old man $200,000 as well as a 24,000-acre township from public lands. Clay was privately aghast at the extravagance, but held his tongue and checked his impulse to oppose the popular gesture. He could not have helped but wonder, though, how many miles of road could have been carved out of the western wilderness with those federal dollars (more than $4 million in today's money), and how many prosperous farms were to be held in abeyance by the marquis's American fiefdom.78 The parties in Lafayette's honor were gratifying, though, and Clay basked in the social flurry and courtly lavishness that lit up the city's evenings. These events did not divert attention from the pending decision about the presidency so much as they pleasantly raised anticipation and provided glittering settings for speculation among the partially informed and maneuvering by the candidates' friends. To those not in the know, Henry Clay appeared detached from the issue, poker-faced when obliquely flattered, occasionally teasing the edgy contenders. Everyone realized that much "depends upon Mr. Clay."79 Clay's inertia, though, concealed his own quiet maneuvering, if imperfectly. When Kentuckian Robert P. Letcher began dropping in on John Quincy Adams in late December, it was noticed. Letcher's visits were ostensibly to discuss public affairs, especially Kentucky politics, yet he was Clay's friend and roomed at Clay's boardinghouse, an association that troubled supporters of Jackson and Crawford. Actually, up to a point, Letcher's somewhat directionless conversations with Adams were curiously frustrating, but when Letcher expressed concern that the Kentucky legislature might instruct the state's congressional delegation to vote for Jackson, Adams perked up. Now they were getting somewhere.

Letcher casually asked Adams his opinion of Clay. Adams said he felt no ill will toward Henry Clay-a clipped response, not necessarily a lie, but not completely sincere either. Even though Letcher claimed that he was not speaking for Clay, Adams had the growing impression that Clay's friend was trying to discover what could be expected in exchange for Clay's support. If that was indeed the purpose of these visits, it made Adams extremely uncomfortable. Dark-haired and swarthy, Letcher was known as "Black Bob," and the prospect of bargaining for the presidency with such a man repelled Adams. In that regard, Letcher's visits became troubling, especially because Adams could not afford to offend him without risking Kentucky's vote. Then, on New Year's Day, Letcher's series of calls reached their object: Would Adams be willing to have a private meeting with Henry Clay?

Adams said yes.80 That evening Martin Van Buren and members of his congressional mess hosted a dinner party for Lafayette at Williamson's Hotel. The reception at the fashionable hostelry saw hundreds gathered, including every prominent man in the city. Henry Clay glided through the assemblage, pausing to drop quips at clusters of notables, laughter trailing after him like the wake of a cruising ship. When he saw Andrew Jackson and John Quincy Adams sitting near the fire with an empty chair between them-almost a cordon sanitaire-he must have laughed at their funereal appearance. Both stared straight ahead, their faces sour. True enough, the expression was natural to Adams even in repose, but Jackson could usually muster pleasantries at these affairs. Perhaps he was ailing, or possibly he had nothing to say (the numerous parties tended to exhaust small talk) and was uncomfortable sitting near his chief rival for the presidency. Clay found the solemn tableau irresistible. He walked across the room and sat down in the empty chair. As he looked back and forth at the two men, a sly smile parted his wide mouth. He pretended to study them. They pretended not to notice him. Finally, he deftly delivered a line aimed more at his audience than at his former adversaries: "Well, gentlemen, since you are both so near the chair, but neither can occupy it, I will slip in between you, and take it myself!" Laughter rippled out across the room, reaching a crescendo as more people got the joke or had it repeated to them. Amid this hilarity Adams sat stone-faced. If reports that Jackson smiled are true, it was certainly a forced smile. Neither he nor Adams thought any of this was a joking matter.81 And actually, Clay didn't either. Later in the evening he quietly approached Adams and softly told him that they should speak privately in a few days. Eight days passed before a note from Clay arrived at Adams's home asking permission to call that evening at six. Those eight days had seemed an eternity. Adams immediately replied to come, yes, by all means.82 THE FIRST NINE days of January 1825 had been for Henry Clay a postscript to a decision he had made some time before, and if we can believe his later recollection, quite some time before. He later claimed that he began weighing the possibility that he might not finish in the top three even before he had left Ashland in November. The disappointing news from Indiana and Illinois had certainly made that unpleasant prospect more likely, and his optimism about New York did indeed have the sound of cheerful whistling in the dark. In short, and according to Clay, he had considered supporting Adams while still gazing at waving bluegrass. That contemplation became resolve when his defeat became certain, and several friends later confirmed that determination. days of January 1825 had been for Henry Clay a postscript to a decision he had made some time before, and if we can believe his later recollection, quite some time before. He later claimed that he began weighing the possibility that he might not finish in the top three even before he had left Ashland in November. The disappointing news from Indiana and Illinois had certainly made that unpleasant prospect more likely, and his optimism about New York did indeed have the sound of cheerful whistling in the dark. In short, and according to Clay, he had considered supporting Adams while still gazing at waving bluegrass. That contemplation became resolve when his defeat became certain, and several friends later confirmed that determination.

We can never be absolutely certain whether this was true or if Clay concocted this story only after everything about what he and Adams decided on that January night went dreadfully wrong. If true, the chronology is a powerful defense against the charge that Clay held out his support for the highest bidder, an auction for which Crawford did not have the assets and Jackson the stomach. But an inescapable logic drove what Clay did, if not how he did it, suggesting that his decision to have Mr. Adams as president was inevitable, regardless of its timing. He certainly would have known at least this before he left Kentucky.83 Clay went to Adams's lodgings on January 9 possibly by the lash of his own ambition but certainly by a simple process of elimination. Even if Clay had agreed with Crawford's ideas on government, the Georgian's health made his potential presidency unlikely and probably impossible. Andrew Jackson's temperament made the prospect of his presidency chilling for Clay, who believed Old Hickory exhibited every characteristic that should be avoided in an elected official. Not only was Jackson a "military chieftain" whose Florida exploits had raised the specter of Caesar, he had also demonstrated an appalling disregard for American law during his occupation of New Orleans at the end of the War of 1812, for the laws of nations by attacking Spain, and for basic humanity by killing men without trials. He had displayed an ungovernable temper during his brief stint as territorial governor of Florida. Clay knew his decision would damage his popularity in the pro-Jackson West, especially in Kentucky.84 Yet he was convinced that Jackson's election "would be a precedent fraught with much danger to the character and security of our institutions." He could not "believe that killing 2500 Englishmen at N. Orleans qualifies for the various, difficult and complicated duties of the Chief Magistry." He would not be a party "to the election of a military chieftain." Yet he was convinced that Jackson's election "would be a precedent fraught with much danger to the character and security of our institutions." He could not "believe that killing 2500 Englishmen at N. Orleans qualifies for the various, difficult and complicated duties of the Chief Magistry." He would not be a party "to the election of a military chieftain."85 Clay sincerely believed that what was now being called his his American System was the only way to promote the country's domestic welfare and preserve its security from foreign threats. In his mind, that required a legislative program maintaining the Bank, enacting protective tariffs, and authorizing internal improvements, all implausible under the limited-government philosophies of Crawford or Jackson. Even Adams did not completely agree with Clay's legislative vision, but in the balance of the three, he was simply the least of the evils. American System was the only way to promote the country's domestic welfare and preserve its security from foreign threats. In his mind, that required a legislative program maintaining the Bank, enacting protective tariffs, and authorizing internal improvements, all implausible under the limited-government philosophies of Crawford or Jackson. Even Adams did not completely agree with Clay's legislative vision, but in the balance of the three, he was simply the least of the evils.

For obvious reasons, Clay would have kept his decision to himself until he was certain of his defeat. From accounts by people in whom he confided and from Clay's own words, we have evidence that at least before the New Year, he had decided to support Adams, even before Letcher's visits to Adams had obliquely broached the subject of Clay's possible place in the coming administration. Letcher's primary purpose, in fact, seems to have been the discovery of Adams's views about a wide range of issues in addition to Adams's opinions about Clay. This last was certainly important for more than just personal reasons, though. The recent campaign had been bitter, and Clay knew that Adams suspected him of having encouraged many nasty attacks. Clay never nursed grudges, for he knew that in politics today's enemy was often tomorrow's ally. But others were less philosophical. Adams almost matched Andrew Jackson for prickly pride that had a long memory for slights. If Clay's programs were to prosper during an Adams administration, he needed a personal as well as a political reconciliation with the peppery little man from Massachusetts.86 So the eight days between Clay's brief conversation with Adams and the meeting it proposed were undoubtedly a coda to a decision already made. Beginning at six o'clock on the evening of January 9, the two spent about three hours in Adams's study, and most of what was said there would remain forever behind that room's doors, for neither man left a lengthy account of their discussion. Adams perfunctorily noted in his diary that the two talked about the past and the future. They did not, Adams claimed, confer about Clay's possible place in the new administration. Instead, he said, Clay wanted assurances that they were in accord on broad public principles, meaning the American System. Comfortable with Adams's stance on those principles, Clay finally told Adams what more than a few already knew and almost everyone else suspected. Clay gave Adams his support.87 Adams certainly understood that he was gaining more than just Clay's vote in the Kentucky delegation. Clay would use his almost irresistible influence in the House to persuade others to vote for Adams as well. It could all be decided on the first ballot, something nobody had thought likely before. This cheerful prospect obscured for the Puritan and the gambler that they were about to make the biggest mistake of their careers.

Snow covered the ground as Clay left his appointment. Much of Washington stayed indoors close to hearths and cozy fires. The wind was arctic and wet. A storm was coming.88 BEFORE HE ANNOUNCED his endorsement of Adams, Clay quietly began lining up votes. At such a task, he was at his most skillful, a political manager who could pluck deals out of thin air. Yet his numerous consultations about his plans had virtually revealed his choice of Adams, and Jackson's supporters panicked when Clay's politicking all but confirmed it. The vote in the House would take place on February 9, giving them just one month to stop Henry Clay from making John Quincy Adams president. Despite Jackson's affecting a magisterial aloofness from petty politics, his operatives had been trying to arrange deals themselves. Just days before the Adams-Clay meeting, Jackson sourly speculated that Adams, Crawford, and Clay were in league against him. He was wrong about Crawford. his endorsement of Adams, Clay quietly began lining up votes. At such a task, he was at his most skillful, a political manager who could pluck deals out of thin air. Yet his numerous consultations about his plans had virtually revealed his choice of Adams, and Jackson's supporters panicked when Clay's politicking all but confirmed it. The vote in the House would take place on February 9, giving them just one month to stop Henry Clay from making John Quincy Adams president. Despite Jackson's affecting a magisterial aloofness from petty politics, his operatives had been trying to arrange deals themselves. Just days before the Adams-Clay meeting, Jackson sourly speculated that Adams, Crawford, and Clay were in league against him. He was wrong about Crawford.89 Clay spent most of two weeks strolling from meeting to meeting. Then word arrived from the Kentucky legislature instructing the state delegation to vote for Jackson. If the news gave Clay pause, he did not show it. Despite being on record that such directives were inviolable, he continued to pressure his Kentucky colleagues as well as other western delegations to vote for Adams. Jackson supporters hoped that Frankfort's instructions rather than Clay's brokering would save the day, but they redoubled efforts to ally with Crawford just to play it safe. When the Kentucky delegation announced on January 24 that they would ignore their state's instructions, gloom settled in over Old Hickory's camp. Clay finally announced for Adams as well, a signal that Prince Hal's work was finished. Only the actual vote on February 9 would show whether it had been effective.90 As the day approached, Clay's work certainly seemed to have been successful. With Kentucky came Ohio, and Jackson's people frantically tried to dam the tide. They resorted to thuggish tactics, threatening popular uprisings if the House rejected Old Hickory and mounting a smear campaign against Clay. On January 25, the Philadelphia Columbian Observer Columbian Observer printed a letter from an anonymous author claiming that Adams and Clay had made a tainted deal. The writer said he had evidence that Adams had promised to make Clay secretary of state in exchange for Clay's help in the House of Representatives. Other papers printed the letter in a crudely conceived operation that would first soil Clay as a power broker in the upcoming election and then make his acceptance of any post in an Adams administration seem proof of the letter's accusation. printed a letter from an anonymous author claiming that Adams and Clay had made a tainted deal. The writer said he had evidence that Adams had promised to make Clay secretary of state in exchange for Clay's help in the House of Representatives. Other papers printed the letter in a crudely conceived operation that would first soil Clay as a power broker in the upcoming election and then make his acceptance of any post in an Adams administration seem proof of the letter's accusation.91 Clay met this challenge head-on. When the letter appeared in the Washington National Intelligencer, National Intelligencer, he demanded that his accuser step from the shadows with such vehemence that he all but invited a duel. A few days later, Congressman George Kremer of Pennsylvania came forward, and Clay immediately regretted being a party to what was obviously a sorry mess. Kremer was an embarrassingly doting Jackson supporter, an oafish eccentric whom Clay described as "an old vulgar gross drinking half Dutchman half Irishman." It was doubtful that poor Kremer had written the letter but almost certain that he had been put up to claiming it. he demanded that his accuser step from the shadows with such vehemence that he all but invited a duel. A few days later, Congressman George Kremer of Pennsylvania came forward, and Clay immediately regretted being a party to what was obviously a sorry mess. Kremer was an embarrassingly doting Jackson supporter, an oafish eccentric whom Clay described as "an old vulgar gross drinking half Dutchman half Irishman." It was doubtful that poor Kremer had written the letter but almost certain that he had been put up to claiming it.92 His high-pitched, screeching voice had prompted some wag at some point to dub him George "Screamer," a rhyme on "Kremer" that enough people found funny to have the name stick, only one of the many sad aspects of Kremer's indifferent public career. He was too stupid to take seriously, and everyone concluded that his "muddy and contracted mind" could not have concocted the attack on Clay without direction. His high-pitched, screeching voice had prompted some wag at some point to dub him George "Screamer," a rhyme on "Kremer" that enough people found funny to have the name stick, only one of the many sad aspects of Kremer's indifferent public career. He was too stupid to take seriously, and everyone concluded that his "muddy and contracted mind" could not have concocted the attack on Clay without direction.93 Clay had no intention of meeting this pathetic Jackson pawn in a duel, but instead asked that Congress investigate the charges. Kremer had no evidence and became a sputtering fount of inconsistencies during the congressional inquiry that ultimately judged his accusations to be groundless. Everyone would remember the accusations, though. Andrew Jackson and his minions would see to that, which was the whole point in the first place. Clay had no intention of meeting this pathetic Jackson pawn in a duel, but instead asked that Congress investigate the charges. Kremer had no evidence and became a sputtering fount of inconsistencies during the congressional inquiry that ultimately judged his accusations to be groundless. Everyone would remember the accusations, though. Andrew Jackson and his minions would see to that, which was the whole point in the first place.94 Clay's character continued to come under attack. He put up a brave front, but he was deeply hurt by some of his critics. He had braced himself for the Jackson camp's spiteful barbs, but many Crawford people were spitting denunciations too, some of them Virginians whom Clay considered old friends. His native state had placed him dead last in its popular vote, and now friends he had known since childhood were accusing him of corruption. Had he ever known them at all?95 JOHN RANDOLPH AND Edward Livingston were the only two congressmen present in 1825 who were members of the House of Representatives that had elected Thomas Jefferson in 1801. Speaker Clay consequently wanted a committee to draw up procedures to govern the February 9 vote. Meanwhile, he vigorously lobbied Daniel Pope Cook of Illinois and John Scott of Missouri, each the lone congressman for their states. Illinois had gone for Jackson in the general election, and though Cook wanted to vote for Adams, he was under more than considerable pressure-he was receiving death threats-to vote accordingly. Missouri had voted for Clay, with Jackson second, and Clay battled Thomas Hart Benton over Scott's vote, for Benton had put aside his differences with Jackson to jump on Old Hickory's bandwagon. Clay persuaded Cook to vote his conscience and bested Benton to claim Scott for Adams. Edward Livingston were the only two congressmen present in 1825 who were members of the House of Representatives that had elected Thomas Jefferson in 1801. Speaker Clay consequently wanted a committee to draw up procedures to govern the February 9 vote. Meanwhile, he vigorously lobbied Daniel Pope Cook of Illinois and John Scott of Missouri, each the lone congressman for their states. Illinois had gone for Jackson in the general election, and though Cook wanted to vote for Adams, he was under more than considerable pressure-he was receiving death threats-to vote accordingly. Missouri had voted for Clay, with Jackson second, and Clay battled Thomas Hart Benton over Scott's vote, for Benton had put aside his differences with Jackson to jump on Old Hickory's bandwagon. Clay persuaded Cook to vote his conscience and bested Benton to claim Scott for Adams.96 At noon on February 9, representatives and senators assembled in the House chamber. They first heard the tally of votes for vice president declaring John C. Calhoun the winner. As expected, the count of the presidential ballots yielded no majority, and the Senate retired to allow the House to elect the president from the three top candidates. Each state received a box to collect its delegation's ballots and appointed a member to take it to a table where Daniel Webster and John Randolph waited. There they would conduct a count of the twenty-four boxes' contents and record each state's choice. To win, a candidate needed a simple majority of thirteen.97 Everyone predicted that of the three candidates, Adams would win the most states on the first ballot but fall short of a majority, despite Clay's work. On a second or third ballot the slightest switch of votes in this or that delegation could then shift momentum, break the contest open, and allow for serious haggling to begin anew. Van Buren expected Adams to win as many as twelve states, a total perilously close to victory, especially because New York was almost evenly split between Crawford and Adams. Van Buren lobbied hard among New York representatives to stop them from putting the New Englander over the top on the first ballot, and he had all but succeeded except for one vacillating holdout.

Stephen Van Rensselaer was one of the wealthiest men in America, the inheritor of enormous landed estates in New York that he had turned into models of productivity and social experimentation. He was in politics entirely because of his civic-mindedness, but he had never distinguished himself, possibly because he was pleasant by temperament and eager to avoid confrontation. Understandably, then, he found the contentious decision of choosing the next president not only daunting but disconcerting, especially when Van Buren explained to him that his vote would likely decide the question. By Van Buren's count, if Van Rensselaer voted for Crawford, New York would be tied, giving Adams only twelve states on the first ballot.98 Because Van Buren planned to tout Crawford as a compromise candidate on a second ballot, it was crucial that he persuade Van Rensselaer to make a second ballot necessary. He and Delaware congressman Louis McLane had an advantage in that they lodged and took meals with Van Rensselaer, and their relentless coaxing and prodding finally brought him over to Crawford. By the time Van Rensselaer arrived at the Capitol, though, Clay had discovered Van Buren's plan. Accompanied by Daniel Webster, Clay hustled Van Rensselaer into the little "Speaker's Room."

It was neither Webster's nor Clay's finest moment as they browbeat the confused old man, vividly describing the national turmoil if the House failed to elect the president on the first ballot. Van Rensselaer left the room nearly in tears but committed to do Clay's bidding. Convinced that the good of the country depended on a decisive first ballot, Stephen Van Rensselaer's key vote made John Quincy Adams president by giving him New York.

Martin Van Buren later excused Van Rensselaer's decision by inventing a curious story that endured for many years. As Van Rensselaer prepared to vote, Van Buren said, he prayed for guidance, his head bowed and his eyes closed. Opening his eyes with his head still bowed, he spied on the floor what he took to be a sign from above: an Adams ballot. He placed it in New York's box as his vote, confident that he was doing God's will. The quaint story was a pure fabrication. Van Rensselaer said immediately after the event that he had acted according to his sense of duty to the country.99 Initially, all seemed calm in the wake of this surprisingly quick resolution. A congressional delegation took the results to Adams, who received them with an affected air of subdued calm. As always, he revealed his actual sentiments to his diary: "May the blessing of God rest upon the event of this Day!"100 That night, at a reception hosted by President Monroe, he encountered Jackson. Official Washington held its collective breath, but Old Hickory only bowed courteously and extended his hand to congratulate Adams on his victory. That night, at a reception hosted by President Monroe, he encountered Jackson. Official Washington held its collective breath, but Old Hickory only bowed courteously and extended his hand to congratulate Adams on his victory.101 Jackson's generous gesture did not reflect his true feelings, which were hardly jovial. At first, he and his friends were stunned enough to be civil, but after analyzing the House vote, they became livid. In addition to the seven states Adams had taken in the general election, he had captured six others that rightly belonged to someone else. In the general election, Kentucky, Missouri, and Ohio were Clay's, while Maryland, Louisiana, and Illinois should have been Jackson's.102 He did not take long to reach the conclusion that Adams and Clay's base intrigue had cost him the election. "Was there ever witnessed," he snarled, "such a bare faced corruption in any country before?" He did not take long to reach the conclusion that Adams and Clay's base intrigue had cost him the election. "Was there ever witnessed," he snarled, "such a bare faced corruption in any country before?"103 The days of Jackson's smiling congratulations were over. The days of Jackson's smiling congratulations were over.

Adams early planned to offer the State Department to Henry Clay, but Clay always claimed that the post was never a trade for his support. When the offer came, though, he worried about how it looked. He asked friends if Kremer's accusations-proven groundless but still in currency among capital gossips-should prevent him from accepting. Most of those friends told him that the opportunity was too good to refuse. They assured him that with Kremer discredited, talk of corruption and bargains would soon die down.104 Clay heard what he wanted to, but he also reasoned that not to accept the post in order to avoid criticism would only serve to give even more credence to the rumors. He would not be intimidated by idle gossip. Clay heard what he wanted to, but he also reasoned that not to accept the post in order to avoid criticism would only serve to give even more credence to the rumors. He would not be intimidated by idle gossip.

The announcement that Clay had accepted the post did not merely fuel gossip, however. It set off a firestorm. Andrew Jackson bellowed to a friend that "the Judas Judas of the West had closed the contract and will receive the thirty pieces of silver." Jackson ominously added, "His end will be the same." of the West had closed the contract and will receive the thirty pieces of silver." Jackson ominously added, "His end will be the same."105 Pro-Jackson newspapers proclaimed that Clay " Pro-Jackson newspapers proclaimed that Clay "DIED-politically," on the day of the House vote because "he fell victim to cunning, fraud and intrigue."106 Clay and Adams had underestimated Jackson as a candidate, but they had missed the measure of him as an enemy by miles. His extensive network of supporters was never more animated and relentless than when given a specific task with a specific goal. With the same cold calculation that had delivered Pennsylvania to Old Hickory at the Harrisburg convention in the fall of 1823, these Jacksonites resolved to destroy Adams's stillborn administration and crush its midwife, Henry Clay. The "Corrupt Bargain" rapidly became an unshakable label, shorthand to condemn the brigand Clay and his coconspirator Adams. Lost in the clamor over the supposedly tainted deal that had bought the presidency were all the programs Clay believed vital to the nation. Adams was to be at best a caretaker. At the State Department, Clay would nearly kill himself trying to make that otherwise.

Twenty-five years later, he would finally make what he described as a "frank confession." He never doubted that his vote for John Quincy Adams had been the proper thing to do, and he insisted that he had been correct to persuade his friends to do the same. Yet he had made a grievous mistake taking the position at State. "By doing so I injured both him [Adams] and myself," Clay would declare, "and I often painfully felt that I had seriously impaired my own capacity of public usefulness."107 The president-elect soon had a sobering illustration of just how wrong things had gone when he and his wife attended the theater shortly after the House vote and were greeted by tepid applause. When the performers spontaneously broke into a rousing rendition of "The Hunters of Kentucky," a song celebrating Andrew Jackson's victory at New Orleans, the audience clapped in time and at its finish erupted into a prolonged fit of stamping, whistling, and cheers. The Adamses sat silent through the impromptu merriment staring straight ahead, their faces ever so slightly revealing a mixture of surprise and pain. This would be emblematic of their lives for the next fifteen hundred days.108 It officially began when John Quincy Adams took a carriage to his inauguration on March 4, 1825. He had at last attained the pinnacle his venerable father had always hoped would be his son's, a vindication of his own troubled presidency that had been beset by tribulation and crisis. Adams basked in his father's praise and still held hopes that his intellect and visionary ideas would make his administration historic, memorable as one of his country's finest hours.

Clay was there to watch Adams take the oath of office. He had resigned as Speaker of the House the day before and looked forward to plunging into work at the State Department. He planned to be at his desk early the following morning. First light on the day after the inauguration, however, found him so ill he could not get out of bed. He was diagnosed as having a severe cold, possibly even influenza. He would recover, but he never really felt fit for the next four years.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

A Thousand Cuts HENRY CLAY'S NOMINATION to head the State Department prompted a humiliating challenge in the Senate, the work not only of Jacksonians embittered by the election but also of those who feared Clay would be the dominant force in the new administration. That anxiety at least proved the ignorance of Adams's opponents, for the new president was indomitable, but the combination of anger and unease produced an embarrassing opposition to Clay. In the end, the Senate confirmed him by a comfortable margin, but getting to that end had put him through the wringer, an unpromising way to begin. to head the State Department prompted a humiliating challenge in the Senate, the work not only of Jacksonians embittered by the election but also of those who feared Clay would be the dominant force in the new administration. That anxiety at least proved the ignorance of Adams's opponents, for the new president was indomitable, but the combination of anger and unease produced an embarrassing opposition to Clay. In the end, the Senate confirmed him by a comfortable margin, but getting to that end had put him through the wringer, an unpromising way to begin.1 The confirmation debates in the Senate were just the beginning of his ordeal. Clay remained physically ill, more or less, for the next four years, and barely a day passed that the cry of "corruption" and "bargain" did not appear in the Jackson press. Jackson's supporters interjected the charge in ordinary conversation, referred to it in every stump speech, and made it a feature of campaigns for constables, commissioners, and congressmen. They ridiculed the president as "Johnny Q." and mocked Clay as a bungling diplomat and despicable conspirator. The treatment wounded Adams, to be sure, but he resolved to ignore it, shielding himself with New England pluck. Henry Clay could not. Western traditions of honor and southern rituals of pride ruled Clay's passions, and he would not ignore assaults on his character. As they were bound to, the Kremer charges resurfaced after the inauguration, and Clay took off his coat and spat on his palms.2 Initially he explained himself to Kentuckians through their newspapers, knowing the press throughout the country would reprint his words. He had not betrayed the West by supporting Adams, he said, because he had made no secret of his nationalism before the election. He sincerely believed that after himself, Adams would be the best president. In any case, he could not have endorsed a man he judged manifestly unqualified for the post. Turning to the accusations that he had acted dishonorably, Clay all but said that George Kremer had not written the letter that had sparked the controversy. Instead, he was certain that Jackson's supporters had duped Kremer into claiming the letter as his creation. Someone close to Jackson had written it, most likely Tennessee senator John Eaton, who had been seen visiting Kremer at the time. Concluding with the observation that Jackson and his followers were being petulant in defeat, Clay insisted that the country as well as the new administration had to move on.3 Clay possibly believed his response would "triumph over all the villaney [sic]," yet it only riled John Eaton, who immediately fired off a letter to Clay demanding he retract the accusation about the Kremer letter. Clay said that he would gladly do so if Eaton plainly stated that his "nocturnal interview" with Kremer had not helped to produce Kremer's accusations. Eaton adopted indignation as a defense. He did not have to explain anything to Henry Clay, he huffed, remarking for good measure that Clay had taken a rather long time to answer his demand for an apology. Clay angrily responded the next day. His official duties did not allow him to "mark the hours with the same precision as a gentleman of your presumed leisure," he snapped. Eaton could, Clay observed, avoid the issue all he liked, but all could then draw reasonable conclusions about his role in producing the Kremer letter. Eaton published these exchanges, an act Clay thought "silly" because he believed that Eaton had gotten the worst of it. Clay's temper blinded him to the disagreeable appearance of the new secretary of state, in office barely three weeks, engaging in a petty feud.4 Eaton was tireless and Jackson was popular, a bad combination in enemies. Reports soon told of mobs burning Clay in effigy throughout the West. Determined, faceless men, moving like shadows, were poking about in his private affairs, trying to acquire letters proving he had sold his support to Adams. In Washington, angry Jackson partisans snubbed him at parties and whispered slanders behind his back. Clay's friends gently soothed him with kind words. He had acted honorably to prevent a disastrous Jackson presidency, they said, and they assured him that the controversy would fade. But they also began to reckon with great unease the resolve of Clay's enemies. The capacity of those enemies for unrestrained abuse surprised them. It shook Clay.5 To make matters worse, much of his work at the State Department was worse than tedious. Deskwork had always bored him, and most of his duties required him to spend twelve hours a day at it, signing patents and answering mail. Routine and interminable meetings with foreign diplomats were taxing enough, but office seekers pushed his patience beyond its limits. The only redeeming feature of his job was the unexpected but pleasant discovery that Adams proved easy to work with. Because of the president's special interest in foreign relations, a natural result of his extensive service abroad, he and Clay had lengthy discussions in which they mostly agreed and usually could compromise when they did not.6 Unlike congressional service with its recesses and adjournments, Clay's duties at State would be ongoing and uninterrupted. Trips home would be catch-as-catch-can affairs. Years before, when he had expected to become Monroe's secretary of state, Clay had planned to have Lucretia and the children move to Washington, and now he revived the idea. Shortly after the inauguration, he returned to Kentucky to bring everyone who could come to the capital. He had not seen Lucretia and the children for six months, and he hoped that Susan and Anne would come up from New Orleans to Ashland, bringing their husbands, Martin and James, and Susan's little boys, Martin and Henry Clay Duralde, for a grand reunion. Clay worried how Lucretia would adjust to the responsibilities of a cabinet wife, let alone the demands of Washington's social whirl. It would be nice, he thought, if Anne and James could come along, if only for a while. Lucretia had been "cheerfully" preparing for the trip, a good sign, and Anne smiled in a reassuring letter to her father that Mama was "of that disposition to make friends & sincere ones too wherever she goes."7 The prospect of seeing them all took the edge off the stories about his new unpopularity in the West. He crossed the mountains at the end of May without once seeing his effigy ablaze and was pleasantly surprised when Kentuckians greeted his arrival with celebrations and dinners in his honor. Everybody was already in a celebratory mood because Lafayette's American journey had just weeks before brought him through the Bluegrass. Kentucky had received Lafayette with lavish balls and treated him to glowing tributes, a glory that shone on Clay, for the old Frenchman had visited Lucretia at Ashland and stopped at Versailles to deliver an address from the balcony of Watkins Tavern, the inn founded by Clay's mother and stepfather. The reminders of Clay's friendship with this enormously popular hero could not have come at a better time.8 It was also fortunate for him that Kentucky politics had tumbled into chaos. The central issue remained how to resolve the respective situations of debtors and creditors. The latter had considerable influence, but the former were more numerous, and for the moment, demographics had the upper hand, making the Relief Party temporarily ascendant. Several of Clay's political friends jumped on the Relief bandwagon, including Amos Kendall, Francis Blair, William T. Barry, and recently elected governor Joseph Desha. The Relief majority in the legislature passed a slew of measures friendly to debtors, and Desha quickly signed them into law. The state court of appeals, however, ruled that much of this legislation was unconstitutional. When the Relief Party settled the confrontation by simply establishing a new court, the old court refused to relinquish its authority, and Kentucky suddenly had two judiciaries, each insisting that the other was illegitimate.

The commotion became all-consuming, extending to matters that seemed quite unrelated. At the end of 1824, Governor Desha's son Isaac had robbed and murdered a traveler, leaving a trail of evidence that assured his conviction and a death sentence. Governor Desha's New Court Party accused the Old Court Party of framing Isaac to ruin his father. Public outcry eventually got Isaac a new trial, but people who had nothing to do with politics could testify to seeing him shortly after the murder in bloodstained clothes, riding the victim's horse, his pocket containing the victim's wallet with a considerable amount of money. Again sentenced to hang, Isaac slit his throat, but the suicide attempt only ruined his trachea, and the gallows still waited. Governor Desha could stand it no longer. He threw caution, not to mention duty, to the wind and pardoned his son.9 These lurid doings could not distract Kentucky forever, and Clay gradually noticed a disturbing trend as the storm over the presidential election refused to subside. Instead, it eventually spread and became linked to every other imaginable disagreement. In Kentucky, many Relief Party members were outright Jacksonians or inclined toward him (incongruously, because down at the Hermitage Jackson occasionally took a break from denouncing Henry Clay to denounce debtors), and their agreement over credit and bankruptcy issues had organized them at the head of a numerous voter base. In time, they would turn critical eyes to Clay's support of Adams.10 CLAY LEFT KENTUCKY for Washington that summer uncertain about when he would return, at least permanently. He hoped that a two-term Clay administration would follow two for the Adams presidency, an accumulation of years that would see him retiring in 1841. Then he could return to Kentucky forever and live out his days, as Thomas Jefferson had at Monticello, to become the Sage of Ashland. It was all a dream in 1825, of course, but one worth planning. Because buying new furniture and other household necessities would be cheaper than shipping what the family owned, Clay had arranged to sell those items he would not place in storage. Consequently, the procession that lumbered out of Kentucky toward Washington was light on baggage. The Clays in it were numerous, however, if nothing else was. The three oldest boys remained behind, but Henry and Lucretia had young James and John as well as twelve-year-old Eliza, excited by the prospect of adventures waiting in the capital, an infectious enthusiasm that lightened everyone's mood. Anne and James Erwin were also on the journey. Susan and Martin Duralde had not made the trip from New Orleans to Kentucky that summer, but Susan wrote her mother a bright letter full of cheerful optimism. She especially wanted Lucretia to put aside her diffidence and enjoy the sparkling social setting Washington offered. for Washington that summer uncertain about when he would return, at least permanently. He hoped that a two-term Clay administration would follow two for the Adams presidency, an accumulation of years that would see him retiring in 1841. Then he could return to Kentucky forever and live out his days, as Thomas Jefferson had at Monticello, to become the Sage of Ashland. It was all a dream in 1825, of course, but one worth planning. Because buying new furniture and other household necessities would be cheaper than shipping what the family owned, Clay had arranged to sell those items he would not place in storage. Consequently, the procession that lumbered out of Kentucky toward Washington was light on baggage. The Clays in it were numerous, however, if nothing else was. The three oldest boys remained behind, but Henry and Lucretia had young James and John as well as twelve-year-old Eliza, excited by the prospect of adventures waiting in the capital, an infectious enthusiasm that lightened everyone's mood. Anne and James Erwin were also on the journey. Susan and Martin Duralde had not made the trip from New Orleans to Kentucky that summer, but Susan wrote her mother a bright letter full of cheerful optimism. She especially wanted Lucretia to put aside her diffidence and enjoy the sparkling social setting Washington offered.11 They traveled slowly, their short baggage train of wagons rumbling along behind them. After the journey up the Ohio River, their slow progress came to an abrupt halt about thirty miles outside Cincinnati near the small town of Lebanon, Ohio, because Eliza was ill and feverish. The little girl had always been the picture of health, so although Henry and Lucretia were worried, they assumed Eliza's excitement had simply gotten the better of her. As they lingered at Lebanon, though, she became no better, even worsening in her frowning parents' estimation. Clay summoned a local physician, but his treatments did little good and possibly some harm. Everyone watched in despair and terror as Eliza slowly sank. Then in early August she rallied, and by August 9, the doctor was certain she was on her way to a full recovery. With laughing relief over this miracle, Henry and Lucretia listened as the doctor reckoned that Eliza was not yet out of the woods. It was best, he told Clay, that she stay put in Lebanon until her recuperation was further along.

Clay was already weeks overdue in the capital and gave in to a compulsive urge to rush to his duties. The family would follow when Eliza was stronger. For ten days, Clay jounced east over rutted roads in a stagecoach. Twenty miles from Washington, the coach stopped at a roadside tavern for breakfast, and Clay spied a copy of the National Intelligencer. National Intelligencer. He glanced at the date on the masthead: August 21, the current issue. He would be up on the latest political and diplomatic news. Then he saw the small item as though it alone remained in focus as the rest of the newspaper dissolved into a blur. Eliza Clay was dead, had been dead since August 11, just two days after he left Lebanon. He glanced at the date on the masthead: August 21, the current issue. He would be up on the latest political and diplomatic news. Then he saw the small item as though it alone remained in focus as the rest of the newspaper dissolved into a blur. Eliza Clay was dead, had been dead since August 11, just two days after he left Lebanon.12 The singularly cruel blow was made doubly worse by his guilt, by the impersonal way he discovered the news, by contemplating that for more than a week he had been going farther and farther away from Lucretia. Later that day, as he slid limply out of the stagecoach in Washington, he was physically and mentally shattered. Two days passed before he could write to comfort Lucretia and pour out his grief. He arranged to meet her and the children outside Washington to bring them into town the following weekend. The sad procession was a cortege as it made its way to rented rooms, and Lucretia climbed the stairs of the boardinghouse like an old woman. Her dreams and hopes for her young daughter had become a leaden weight. Eliza would never attend the excellent girls' school in the capital. She would never laugh with her mother in this cheerless, lonely city.13 Clay threw himself into his work with such abandon that friends worried about his health, but at least he had something to distract him from unrelenting grief. Misery shadowed Lucretia's days. Social engagements were out of the question. Other than tending to two rambunctious little boys, she whiled away empty hours, her dim world the cramped rooms of the boardinghouse. In early October, Clay moved the family into a large rented house with the hope that changed surroundings could abate some measure of their grief.14 In New Orleans, Susan Clay Duralde received the news about Eliza after she had sent her cheerful letter to her parents. Her little sister's death devastated her, and she physically wilted in the days that followed. Weak and listless, she mildly alarmed Martin Duralde, but everyone knew that grief could injure the body as well as the spirit. Though concerned, the family in New Orleans was confident that time would heal the wound. In fact, after a few days, Susan appeared to be recovering. Then a high fever seized her, an all too common malady in southern Louisiana, but a disquieting one that could be serious. It soon became obvious that Susan was not just sad but gravely ill. Doctors came and went while Martin helplessly looked on. The doctors, whispering and grim, were increasingly helpless too. Martin simply ceased functioning, withdrawing in the face of the unfolding and unthinkable horror. Someone, possibly Martin's sister Julie, took the two sons to Susan's bedside for farewells, more for their mother than for them. Little Martin, the older boy, could barely understand what was happening, and his younger brother, Henry Clay Duralde, was still teething. At the end, Susan could hardly speak, but she whispered a final regret: she would never see her parents again. She died on September 18, just five weeks after her sister. Susan was twenty-two.15 Martin was inconsolable, irrational, and unable to care for the children. His sisters Louise and Julie Duralde Clay temporarily took them in. Receiving the news in Washington, Henry and Lucretia came near complete collapse. For Lucretia, prayer provided some comfort, but her faith seemed hard put to sustain her. She retreated into a quiet sadness in the months that followed. First losing the infant Laura and then Eliza indelibly associated Washington with dying children. Because of Susan, she now had to bear the death of a child in a far removed place. In France, Nancy ripped open letters from Clay and worried that her sister would "never regain her happiness," that Susan's death had "given the finishing stroke to it." The burden of grief made Clay so ill that he considered resigning as secretary of state. "Out of six daughters," he finally cried, "to be deprived of all but one!"16 CLAY DID NOT quit his post. Instead, he hoped that work could distract his mind while time healed his heart. The Jacksonian drumbeat about the Clay-Adams bargain spurred him to work all the harder at the State Department and to help Adams frame a popular domestic program. The new administration had a hard row to hoe. Jackson's supporters wanted four years of mounting administration failures to assure Old Hickory's election in 1828. For that reason, they tried to thwart all of its proposals, but others had reason to challenge administration policies as well. Suspicious of expanding federal power, they jealously guarded states' rights and individual liberty. These two groups were not always mutually exclusive. Support for Jackson often coincided with the exaltation of states' rights. But Jacksonians had the motive of political expediency, aside from any philosophical differences with Henry Clay. For all its rough-and-tumble complexities, the election of 1824 had at least set the stage to clarify a fundamental disagreement. A sharp distinction emerged between those who saw the federal government as the prime mover in domestic affairs and those who believed that localism was best. quit his post. Instead, he hoped that work could distract his mind while time healed his heart. The Jacksonian drumbeat about the Clay-Adams bargain spurred him to work all the harder at the State Department and to help Adams frame a popular domestic program. The new administration had a hard row to hoe. Jackson's supporters wanted four years of mounting administration failures to assure Old Hickory's election in 1828. For that reason, they tried to thwart all of its proposals, but others had reason to challenge administration policies as well. Suspicious of expanding federal power, they jealously guarded states' rights and individual liberty. These two groups were not always mutually exclusive. Support for Jackson often coincided with the exaltation of states' rights. But Jacksonians had the motive of political expediency, aside from any philosophical differences with Henry Clay. For all its rough-and-tumble complexities, the election of 1824 had at least set the stage to clarify a fundamental disagreement. A sharp distinction emerged between those who saw the federal government as the prime mover in domestic affairs and those who believed that localism was best.17 When Congress convened in December, Andrew Jackson was not in it. He had resigned from the Senate in October. Almost immediately, the Tennessee legislature nominated him for the presidency in 1828, by design starting the next campaign before people could forget the disappointment of the last one. Almost everything about the business of government quickly focused on electing Jackson in four years. His supporters in Congress pounced at their first opportunity, which was their response to Adams's first annual message.18 Clay saw it coming. He knew the perils of crossing an angry legislature, and Adams wisely listened to Clay's advice to tone down or eliminate items sure to provoke such great opposition that they had no chance of success. Jacksonians and states' rights proponents nevertheless condemned even the modified version of the annual message. John Randolph, recently elected to the Senate, was characteristically vocal and caustic. In fact, the volume of personal attacks and pure fabrications hurled at the administration surprised Clay as much as they troubled him. Nothing was beyond the imagination of detractors. Jacksonians even accused Adams and Clay of sending Lafayette home in a ship so leaky it was in constant danger of sinking, revealing their contemptible indifference, their unseemly parsimony.19 In the face of such unreasonable attacks, there was little one could do except work hard, hoping success would blunt criticism and win the public's support. Clay intended to help with his foreign policy initiatives. He came to detest the mundane parts of his job, but few secretaries of state have matched Clay's resolve to do every part of the job thoroughly and well. Unfortunately for him as well as the country, resolve would not be enough. The State Department did not allow him to use his talents, which were uniquely suited to the legislature, where few could equal Clay's ability to form majorities, construct compromises, and persuade with dazzling oratory. Instead, he was deskbound, writing reams of instructions to men of varying ability in distant capitals, both he and they frustrated by delay and hemmed in by elaborate protocols.20 The administration inherited perennial problems with Great Britain and France, although the problems with Britain were less menacing than usual in that they mainly concerned commerce. Adams and Clay thought the British might be willing to open their West Indies colonies to unrestricted American trade. London had already partially opened the door, though with a consequential limitation. All trade with British colonies had to be direct, meaning American shippers could not carry anything but American goods to those colonies or take from them goods for sale anywhere but the United States. This limited colonial trade was an encouraging breakthrough, though, and Clay hoped it was a sign that the British could be persuaded to lift all restrictions. For that task he needed just the right man, and he entreated veteran diplomat and fellow Ghent commissioner Albert Gallatin to replace the elderly Rufus King, the U.S. minister in London.

Gallatin had doubts about British flexibility, and he resisted Clay for as long as he could before reluctantly accepting the post. He left for London in July 1826, and after arriving there either found his doubts confirmed or was disinclined to exert himself to overcome what he regarded as insurmountable obstacles. Gallatin not only failed to budge the British on the West Indian trade, he could not settle the Canadian boundary or secure American navigation rights on the St. Lawrence River either. Clay began to doubt Gallatin's commitment to his mission, and Gallatin grew increasingly touchy over Clay's constant urging to redouble his efforts. Gallatin's failure in London was a serious blow to Clay's tenure at State, dashing all his initiatives to improve Anglo-American relations.21 Franco-American affairs posed a more delicate problem. For years, the United States had insisted that the French should pay damages for attacks on U.S. shipping during the Napoleonic Wars. The matter had gone to arbitration, which confirmed many American claims, but the French government repeatedly delayed payment. Clay believed these postponements amounted to bad faith and justified expropriating French shipping as compensation, an extreme response that Adams overruled. Clay was at least fortunate in that Monroe's minister to Paris continued under Adams, providing both continuity to the American position and perceptive reports about events on the ground there. James Brown, of course, was also Clay's brother-in-law, but that was immaterial to the French, who remained obstinate, just as Brown predicted they would. The matter remained unresolved when Adams and Clay left office, another diplomatic failure. The French finally paid the debt during Andrew Jackson's presidency, making Clay's disappointment even more galling. Jackson would rattle a saber to get the money.22 Yet Clay was ready to rattle a saber of his own if the situation merited it. He and Adams suspected that the French planned to test the strength of the Monroe Doctrine by reviving their colonial ventures in Latin America. Spanish Cuba seemed ripe for the taking, for rumors described cash-strapped Spain as unable to protect the Jewel of the Antilles. Contemplating the alarming possibility that Madrid might cede Cuba to France, Clay maintained contact with a confidential agent on the island and closely monitored activity in the Caribbean. When Clay learned that a French fleet of twenty-seven ships had left Martinique for Cuba, his instructions to James Brown amounted to a Clay Codicil to the Monroe Doctrine: just as the United States would not abide the establishment of new colonies in the hemisphere, it would not tolerate the transfer of a colony from one European nation to another. The French perceived that Clay was serious and backed off. They denied having any interest in Cuba.23 During his service in the House, Clay's support of Latin American independence had earned him the enduring goodwill of struggling revolutionaries. That relationship and his continued interest in promoting strong hemispheric ties across Latin America boded well for excellent relations between the United States and the new republics to the south. He negotiated commercial treaties with several Latin American governments, but the real opportunity for American leadership came early during Clay's tenure at the State Department. Venezuelan Simon Bolivar, celebrated as the liberator of South America and president of Gran Colombia as well as Peru and Bolivia, called a congress of interested states to meet in Panama in the spring of 1826. Even though the United States was not originally on the invitation list, Mexico and Colombia soon rectified the oversight.24 Clay was thrilled. The congress promised an opportunity to promote better trade relations throughout the Americas. Using subtle diplomatic pressure and citing the success of its own example, the United States could encourage greater democracy in the infant republics to the south. President Adams, however, was less excited by these prospects. In fact, he was quite wary of weak Latin American nations ensnaring the United States into military alliances that could plunge the nation into wars unrelated to American interests. Clay convinced Adams that enthusiasm had not blinded him to these realities. He assured the president that U.S. commissioners would have carefully worded instructions preventing them from committing to anything other than commercial compacts. Clay also argued that establishing commercial ties could only increase a salutary exposure to U.S. influence and institutions, leading to solid frameworks of government and the avoidance of risky projects such as trying to seize Cuba from enfeebled Spain. Finally agreeing that the advantages outweighed the hazards, Adams consented to sending delegates to the Panama Congress. Clay began searching for apt candidates.25 Hoping to head off criticism, Adams asked the Senate to confirm the diplomats and the House to appropriate funds for their mission, but the gesture proved a mistake. When Clay nominated Kentuckian Richard Anderson, Jr., currently U.S. minister to Colombia, and former Pennsylvania congressman John Sergeant as commissioners, anti-administration senators used the confirmation hearings to attack the entire Panama initiative.26 They spent several weeks scrutinizing Anderson and Sergeant as though they were under arraignment. The Senate Foreign Relations Committee issued a report criticizing the idea of sending a mission at all, and for weeks afterward, whenever the topic appeared on the Senate's calendar, critics leaped to lodge a variety of arguments against it. Isolationists darkly warned that the mission could entangle the United States in dangerous alliances and surrender the country's autonomy to some sort of Pan-American commission. Southerners nodded, frowned, and raised additional objections, including the fact that Latin American nations that recognized the Haitian government of former slaves would incite similar slave rebellions throughout the South. While Jacksonians in Congress kept pounding the idea, Vice President John C. Calhoun lurked around the edges of the argument in exasperating ways. The caprice of American electoral procedures in 1824 had made Calhoun the vice president despite his disdain for John Quincy Adams and his allegiance to Andrew Jackson. Working behind the scenes, Calhoun accordingly played spoiler to block Clay-Adams initiatives, including participation in the Panama Congress. Clay wanted this badly, though, and spent the political capital necessary to obtain it. He used his influence in Congress to counter the partisan bickering over confirmations in the Senate and funding in the House. In the end, he got both the delegates and the money. They spent several weeks scrutinizing Anderson and Sergeant as though they were under arraignment. The Senate Foreign Relations Committee issued a report criticizing the idea of sending a mission at all, and for weeks afterward, whenever the topic appeared on the Senate's calendar, critics leaped to lodge a variety of arguments against it. Isolationists darkly warned that the mission could entangle the United States in dangerous alliances and surrender the country's autonomy to some sort of Pan-American commission. Southerners nodded, frowned, and raised additional objections, including the fact that Latin American nations that recognized the Haitian government of former slaves would incite similar slave rebellions throughout the South. While Jacksonians in Congress kept pounding the idea, Vice President John C. Calhoun lurked around the edges of the argument in exasperating ways. The caprice of American electoral procedures in 1824 had made Calhoun the vice president despite his disdain for John Quincy Adams and his allegiance to Andrew Jackson. Working behind the scenes, Calhoun accordingly played spoiler to block Clay-Adams initiatives, including participation in the Panama Congress. Clay wanted this badly, though, and spent the political capital necessary to obtain it. He used his influence in Congress to counter the partisan bickering over confirmations in the Senate and funding in the House. In the end, he got both the delegates and the money.27 Yet it took him a precious long time to do so, and ultimately time became Clay's biggest enemy. When the American commissioners finally started out for Central America, the Panama Congress was already in session. They had detailed instructions from Clay, but his labors were wasted, for neither Anderson nor Sergeant had a chance to act on them. Traveling from Colombia, Anderson fell ill and died en route. In the meantime, the congress adjourned to reconvene in Tacubaya, Mexico, making Sergeant's trip to Panama pointless. Adams and Clay hastily replaced Anderson with Joel Poinsett, U.S. minister to Mexico, but by the time he and Sergeant arrived at Tacubaya, the meeting had adjourned again. All the administration's efforts came to nothing. Worse, British envoys to the Latin American congress were able to point smugly to the conspicuous absence of U.S. participants as evidence of U.S. indifference, tarnishing Clay's otherwise sterling relationships with the new republics. Clay had handed the president another failure, and the administration's critics crowed like roosters.28 The lack of U.S. participation at the Panama Congress meant problems for the country in the long term as many Latin American countries began to jettison their republican governments, falling prey to barracks rebellions and into the clutches of military strongmen. Clay even became suspicious that Simon Bolivar's fame had turned the Great Liberator's head. Clay used unofficial channels to dissuade the shift to authoritarianism, and he instructed diplomats like Poinsett to use their influence to encourage democratic rule, but he could do little to reverse these disturbing trends. In Mexico, Poinsett exemplified the problem while exacerbating it. Ineffectual on almost every level, he could not diminish British influence in Mexico City, and he obnoxiously injected himself into Mexico's domestic affairs, making him useless in fulfilling Clay's hope of purchasing portions of northern Mexico, most important Texas. In the end, Poinsett could not even conclude a simple trade agreement with Mexico. Under Clay's guidance, the State Department actually established more trade treaties than his predecessors had, but Poinsett's failure in Mexico was a blot that many unfairly recalled as emblematic of Clay's commercial diplomacy, consequently perceiving all his efforts as disappointing.29 JOHN RANDOLPH WAS having the time of his life assailing John Quincy Adams and Henry Clay. Week after week of vicious attacks finally led even John Eaton to complain that the Senate did nothing other than listen to Randolph brand the administration a gaggle of "money changers" and use every debate "to torture" the president and secretary of state. having the time of his life assailing John Quincy Adams and Henry Clay. Week after week of vicious attacks finally led even John Eaton to complain that the Senate did nothing other than listen to Randolph brand the administration a gaggle of "money changers" and use every debate "to torture" the president and secretary of state.30 Randolph's behavior was no less exasperating because it was in character, and Clay could bear only so much of it. On March 30, 1826, Randolph's invective finally crossed the line. It was a long and meandering speech even for Randolph, but it contained a clever literary reference to characters in Henry Fielding's novel Randolph's behavior was no less exasperating because it was in character, and Clay could bear only so much of it. On March 30, 1826, Randolph's invective finally crossed the line. It was a long and meandering speech even for Randolph, but it contained a clever literary reference to characters in Henry Fielding's novel Tom Jones Tom Jones that set the capital to buzzing and Clay to fuming. Randolph spoke of "the coalition of Blifil and Black George-by the combination unheard of till then, of the puritan with the black-leg." that set the capital to buzzing and Clay to fuming. Randolph spoke of "the coalition of Blifil and Black George-by the combination unheard of till then, of the puritan with the black-leg."31 Fielding's Blifil was an outwardly pious man consumed with greed, and Black George was a lovable though inherently dishonest servant. Randolph clearly meant these two fictional characters to represent Adams and Clay, but he also cast subtlety aside to make sure everyone understood the insult. Adams was the puritan and Clay the blackleg, slang for a card cheat. Clay intended to kill John Randolph for that remark. Fielding's Blifil was an outwardly pious man consumed with greed, and Black George was a lovable though inherently dishonest servant. Randolph clearly meant these two fictional characters to represent Adams and Clay, but he also cast subtlety aside to make sure everyone understood the insult. Adams was the puritan and Clay the blackleg, slang for a card cheat. Clay intended to kill John Randolph for that remark.

The day after Randolph's speech, Clay summoned his friend the U.S. Army Quartermaster General Thomas S. Jesup to his office with a note for Randolph that cited his "unprovoked attack on my character, in the Senate of the United States, on yesterday." Clay insisted that he had "no other alternative than that of demanding personal satisfaction." Jesup was dismayed. He tried to talk Clay out of sending this challenge, but Clay responded that "no public station, no, not even life, is worth holding, if coupled with dishonor." He insisted that Jesup deliver the note and asked him to serve as his second in the duel.32 When it came to threatening violence, Randolph had few equals, but unlike Clay, who almost never threatened violence, Randolph's public life had not featured a single instance of gunplay. In 1807, he had refused a challenge from General James Wilkinson with the contemptuous response, "I cannot descend to your level." Now he had a note from the secretary of state calling him out, and to his credit, he was greatly troubled by it. Randolph went to Thomas Hart Benton's room at Brown's Hotel and asked about his family connection to Lucretia Clay. Benton said he was a blood relative. The news saddened Randolph; he had wanted his friend to be his second. He told Benton that he would ask Congressman Edward F. Tattnall of Georgia to be his second, but he also swore Benton to secrecy. Randolph felt he had no choice but to accept Clay's challenge, to preserve both his honor and the inviolability of Senate debates. And yet Randolph paused; he then looked levelly at Thomas Hart Benton and told him not to worry.33 Jesup and Tattnall unhappily made the final arrangements, neither wanting to see the duel happen but neither able to stop it. Nevertheless, they and Benton spent much of the next week trying to work out an agreement that could allow Randolph to say that everyone had misconstrued him and allow Clay to cancel the meeting honorably. Randolph, however, stood firm on the principle he had declared to Benton. No one had the right to demand an explanation for remarks in the Senate, least of all a member of the executive branch.34 Randolph had the choice of weapons. It was to be pistols. The seconds outlined additional terms. Ten paces, a distance of about thirty feet, would separate Clay and Randolph. They were to point their pistols toward the ground until hearing the command "Fire!" A measured count of "one-two-three" would frame the time when each could discharge his weapon before hearing the word "Stop!" The seconds selected a spot in Virginia across the Potomac from Georgetown and set the afternoon of April 8 as the date.

On the evening of April 7, Benton called on Clay and found other visitors at the house. His eyes lingered on his cousin. Lucretia sat in the parlor, silent and sad. Since the deaths of Eliza and Susan, Benton had not seen her display the slightest trace of happiness. Five-year-old John slumbered on the sofa, and Benton had the distinct impression that Lucretia, shut away from the world, knew nothing about the duel planned for the following day, but he could have been wrong. Suky Price had supposed the same thing about her calm sister during the Humphrey Marshall duel seventeen years earlier. Benton stayed put when Clay's company left and Lucretia took John up to bed. He wanted to stop this madness, but he could tell it was no use. Instead, he told Clay that their political differences were of no consequence under the shadow of the morrow. He wished him the best. Clay thanked him. They walked to the door, and Benton paused to look at Clay before leaving. It was almost midnight.35 First thing the next morning, Benton rushed to Randolph's rooms to implore him to stop this madness. Randolph listened impassively as Benton described the Clay family as he had found them the night before, Lucretia already stricken by grief over losing her daughters, the child curled on the sofa. Randolph again quietly said that Benton should not worry. Randolph sadly told Benton that fighting a duel on his native soil of Virginia was a hard choice aside from breaking Virginia's law prohibiting it, but Randolph also said, strangely, that he would not dishonor the state by doing so. Then he made a promise: at the end of the day, Lucretia Clay would not be a widow or her children orphans. Benton now fully understood their first conversation about this affair. Randolph had never intended to shoot Henry Clay. Nobody would ever be able to revile him for wounding that frail, kind woman, or accuse him of hurting her innocent children. He would not violate Virginia's law or disgrace its ground, because he would not fight back, and if Clay killed him, Randolph could think of no better place to die.36 That afternoon, both parties set out for the rendezvous. The day was strange for the second week of April, spitting snow in the morning and turning to a dreary rain as the hours passed. In addition to Jesup, Clay's close friend Senator Josiah Johnston of Louisiana accompanied him. Randolph crossed the Potomac with Tattnall and Congressman James Hamilton of South Carolina. Benton came too, trailing the Randolph party in the hope of saving his friend's life. He found Randolph still in his carriage, exhibiting a disturbing turn of mind, cryptically explaining that circumstances had altered his earlier resolution. Benton could not account for it. He did not know that Randolph had learned that Clay was complaining that the short count for taking aim was insufficient. Clay was not a very good shot, and Randolph interpreted his adversary's concern as a sign he meant to kill him. Randolph simply told Benton that he now planned to shoot Clay in the leg. He swept out of his carriage, strangely attired in a flowing white dressing gown. Benton's eyes followed him. It was madness.37 Everyone gathered on the open field. The seconds handed the antagonists their weapons and were reciting the rules a final time when Randolph absentmindedly pulled the hair trigger on his pistol. It discharged into the ground, the report startling everyone and causing confusion over the broken protocol. The seconds retreated to mull over the matter. Should they count this inadvertent shot to give Clay free aim at Randolph? Clay finally shouted at them from a distance, "It was an accident-I saw it-the shot is near his foot."38 The two men took their positions and prepared to exchange fire. At the signal, Randolph's ball sent wood chips flying out of a stump behind Clay, an indication that he was deliberately firing low. Clay's shot tore through Randolph's trouser leg, missing flesh. Benton spoke up. Surely this was enough. There was no need for a second shot. Both men waved him off. With pistols reloaded, they stood ready for the second round. At the command to fire, Clay carefully raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. The ball hurtled toward Randolph, pierced his billowing clothing, and miraculously passed harmlessly on. Randolph pointed his pistol up and shouted, "I do not fire at you, Mr. Clay." He pulled the trigger to send a sharp, harmless report skyward before striding forward with his hand outstretched. Clay met him halfway and exclaimed, "I trust in God, my dear sir, you are untouched: after what has occurred I would not have harmed you for a thousand worlds."

Randolph said solemnly, "You owe me a coat, Mr. Clay."

Clay replied, "I am glad the debt is not greater."39 Despite this happy conclusion, the spectacle of the American secretary of state and a United States senator shooting at each other in an open field struck many as inexcusably barbaric and became "the subject of very general animadversion in the publick prints." One editorial asked, "Will not the President dismiss the duelling Secretary?"40 In addition to the indignity of the event, Clay and Randolph in its aftermath did not even become friendly opponents. Instead, they soon reverted to their old antagonisms, mainly because Randolph could not control his combative reflexes. He resumed his attacks on Clay and Adams, refusing to stop even after he left Congress in 1828. By then, he was a complete Jacksonian. In addition to the indignity of the event, Clay and Randolph in its aftermath did not even become friendly opponents. Instead, they soon reverted to their old antagonisms, mainly because Randolph could not control his combative reflexes. He resumed his attacks on Clay and Adams, refusing to stop even after he left Congress in 1828. By then, he was a complete Jacksonian.

THE 1828 PRESIDENTIAL campaign commenced the moment Adams won the vote in the House of Representatives. Ordinarily the Clay-Randolph duel would have given the opposition additional grenades to lob at the administration, but Andrew Jackson's adherents reviewed their man's record and wisely concluded that the less said about shooting people the better. They had plenty of other charges to level at Messrs. Adams and Clay. For their part, in only months, Adams and Clay had heard quite enough about their moral shortcomings. campaign commenced the moment Adams won the vote in the House of Representatives. Ordinarily the Clay-Randolph duel would have given the opposition additional grenades to lob at the administration, but Andrew Jackson's adherents reviewed their man's record and wisely concluded that the less said about shooting people the better. They had plenty of other charges to level at Messrs. Adams and Clay. For their part, in only months, Adams and Clay had heard quite enough about their moral shortcomings.41 The result was arguably the most vicious presidential election in the history of American politics. Both sides played the political theater, clucking over their opponent's mild peccadillo here, gasping in outrage over his inexcusable moral delinquency there. Some minor transgressions were true (Adams was aloof, Clay drank and gambled, Jackson had a bad temper), but the astonishing stories were apt to be complete fabrications. For the Jacksonians, the "Corrupt Bargain" took center stage in their campaign.

Jackson maintained a dignified silence for the public, but he was actually working behind the scenes with angry resolve to spoil administration policies. Most of all, though, he wanted to gather proof he hoped to "wield to [Clay's] political, & perhaps, to his actual destruction." For Andrew Jackson, the events of early 1825 were as personal as political, perhaps more so, because Jackson possessed a startling capacity for self-absorption and a feral instinct for survival. He plotted Clay's destruction because he was certain that Clay, the "meanest, [sic] scoundrel, that ever disgraced the image of his god," was plotting just as assiduously against him. Because Jackson was certain that Clay would use any means to his end-there was, Jackson thought, "nothing too mean or low for him to condescend to"-Jackson felt justified in doing the same.42 Actually, Clay was too often ill and always too busy at the State Department to engage in anything nefarious. When rumors surfaced in Washington that Jackson finally had proof of the "Corrupt Bargain," Clay was troubled that the issue was being given new life, but he was also confident that the facts could only vindicate him. This first serious attempt to produce proof of the Adams-Clay bargain involved assertions that a congressman had approached Jackson in the weeks before the House vote to tell Old Hickory that Henry Clay would support him, for a price. If Jackson would promise not to appoint Adams secretary of state, Clay would make Jackson president. The implication, of course, was that Clay was angling for the post. The conclusion of this tale not only tarnished Clay as a schemer but also burnished Jackson's reputation for integrity and plain dealing. It described him as indignantly snapping that he would make no pledges to buy the presidency. The unspoken but clear message was that Adams had.43 The story was not altogether a lie, which was the problem with it. The congressman was an unnamed mystery man in the earliest versions of the story, but Pennsylvanian James Buchanan had in fact approached Andrew Jackson. He had done so on his own, however, not at Clay's request. The facts of this episode therefore provided no proof of Clay's treachery, and that was why the story did not surface for more than a year. After Jackson left Washington in the spring of 1825, he exchanged friendly letters with Buchanan that contained no mention of their interview and certainly no mention of Clay's having instigated it. Not until the summer and fall of 1826 did this tale appear, and by then it included the missing ingredient of Clay as the mastermind. Missourian Duff Green, a Calhoun partisan, had come to Washington in 1825 to buy and edit the United States Telegraph, United States Telegraph, a pro-Jackson paper partly financed by Old Hickory. In mid-1826, Green began claiming that a certain congressman had acted as Clay's intermediary to Jackson in January 1825. Clay supporters branded Green a liar and demanded to know the identity of this congressman, left nameless in Green's accounts. When the editor asked Buchanan to substantiate the story, the Pennsylvanian to his horror found himself thrust to the center of a very ugly controversy. Buchanan, of course, knew that he had acted on his own in approaching Jackson. It had been nothing more than a foolish attempt by a young congressman to become a Washington power broker with a ploy as brazen as it was immature. Now Jackson and his lieutenants wanted him to lie about it, to make it into something much more, something to destroy Henry Clay. a pro-Jackson paper partly financed by Old Hickory. In mid-1826, Green began claiming that a certain congressman had acted as Clay's intermediary to Jackson in January 1825. Clay supporters branded Green a liar and demanded to know the identity of this congressman, left nameless in Green's accounts. When the editor asked Buchanan to substantiate the story, the Pennsylvanian to his horror found himself thrust to the center of a very ugly controversy. Buchanan, of course, knew that he had acted on his own in approaching Jackson. It had been nothing more than a foolish attempt by a young congressman to become a Washington power broker with a ploy as brazen as it was immature. Now Jackson and his lieutenants wanted him to lie about it, to make it into something much more, something to destroy Henry Clay.44 At first Buchanan stalled while he weighed the risks of flatly denying Green's story, for he did not want to offend Jackson. Buchanan bought time by asking Green for more information, but he hoped that logic alone would show him to be a useless witness. After all, he had never been close to Clay and would have been an unlikely messenger for Clay to trust with a delicate mission. Buchanan for a time resorted to a plea of ignorance, but in the end he explicitly denied that he had acted as Clay's agent in the meeting with Jackson. When the matter seemed to disappear at the end of 1826 with his name still left out of it, Buchanan breathed a sigh of relief. The Jacksonians, though, were only taking a breather.45 In the spring of 1827, Jackson told Virginian Carter Beverley about the Buchanan interview, but now Jackson himself said he had believed at the time that Buchanan was doing Clay's bidding. This was an extraordinary claim for several reasons. Aside from its coming more than two years after the event, a time during which he had never breathed a whisper about Clay's using Buchanan, Jackson had to know that Buchanan flatly contradicted this version. But instead of the story's collapsing under the weight of Buchanan's denial, Jackson's earnest recitation of it persuaded Beverley that it had to be true. He started spreading it around, in part to provoke a reaction from Clay, who at first dismissed the mounting clamor as just more mudslinging. Clay did not believe that Jackson would tell an outright lie.46 By late June 1827, though, Clay knew that Jackson had done exactly that, this time by writing a letter to Beverley repeating the charge against Clay. Beverley was only waiting for Clay to deny the story before making public the name of the mysterious congressman who had approached Jackson for Clay in 1825. By now, Clay was more than eager to know the identity of this intermediary himself. He published in the Lexington Kentucky Reporter Kentucky Reporter a letter not only denying a connection to any such person but demanding that his accusers produce him. a letter not only denying a connection to any such person but demanding that his accusers produce him.47 James Buchanan watched this controversy reemerge with growing dread. He had understood all too well Duff Green's disconcerting invitation to lie, and now he anxiously waited for Jackson's response to Clay's public demand. The mail soon brought to Buchanan his worst nightmare, a letter from Andrew Jackson insisting that he corroborate Jackson's version of the event. Jackson even had helpful suggestions to avoid the squeamish discomfort of telling an utter lie. Buchanan, Jackson said, did not have to say that he came directly from Clay. Instead, he could simply name one of Clay's friends as having recruited him. Close upon the dispatch of this letter, Jackson unveiled Buchanan as Clay's agent. Pressed to the wall by this audacious and preemptive tactic, Buchanan found his spine, after a fashion, by publicly and privately denying that he had been an intermediary for Clay or anyone else in 1825. Buchanan also strongly reasserted his unalloyed loyalty to Jackson, even though he had in the same breath essentially branded Andrew Jackson a liar.48 Jackson's brazen habit of claiming the moral high ground while stooping very, very low continued to surprise Clay, however, and sure enough, Old Hickory and his followers were soon boldly rebounding from the setback to insist that despite Buchanan's clear declaration, their lie about his actions was true. Meanwhile, Clay had another of the alarming signs that there were plenty of scoundrels practicing the political art and more than enough fools to believe them. Rather than turning out his detractors, the 1826 elections for the Twentieth Congress had increased their number, giving Jacksonians a majority for the session that convened in December 1826. Especially mortifying for Clay, Jacksonians formed the bulk of the Kentucky delegation. It was on this solid political foundation that audacious men heedless of contradiction and dismissive of evidence constructed the attack on him. By 1827, it was a towering edifice of lies so rapidly built that Clay could not take the measure of it. The most he could fathom was how hurtful and disheartening baseless charges could be when coming from the mouths of former friends.49 In addition to occasionally checking on Ashland, Clay visited Kentucky during the summers to shore up political support. Kentucky also had a restorative effect on his fragile health. Old friends boosted his sagging confidence, family gatherings at his mother's home placed him among loved ones, and breathing Kentucky's air lifted his spirits, all giving him strength to withstand the dispiriting quarrels in the capital. When he returned to Washington from his summer 1827 visit, however, Kentucky rather than the capital became the source of a barrage of attacks against him. They first hurt and then infuriated him.

Clay knew that some of his friends preferred Jackson and disapproved of his support for Adams. Many had joined the Kentucky Relief faction, but he had tried to keep these differences from disaffecting anyone. Francis Preston Blair and Amos Kendall were among this group. Both men saw rising fervor for Jackson as shaping the future of American politics, and eventually they led efforts in Kentucky to elect Jackson in 1828. As secretary of state, Clay awarded printers in each state lucrative contracts to publish federal documents and legislation, and Kendall counted on that plum in Kentucky. By 1826, however, Kendall was using his Argus of Western America Argus of Western America to attack the Adams administration as well as to campaign for Andrew Jackson. Clay canceled the contracts. to attack the Adams administration as well as to campaign for Andrew Jackson. Clay canceled the contracts.50 This act merely completed a break long in the making, for Clay had outlived his usefulness for Amos Kendall. When he had asked Clay for a federal job at the end of 1825, pegging his salary needs at $1,500 annually, Clay could only offer a post that paid $1,000. Kendall refused it with an ominous grumble. In addition, Kendall owed Clay $1,500, an act of generosity on Clay's part that became a fertile seedbed for resentment for Kendall, especially when he could not pay back the loan. Meanwhile, Jacksonians throughout the West saw Kendall's newspaper as a valuable medium to disseminate pro-Jackson propaganda and anti-Adams attacks in the region. Kendall's Kentucky friends arranged to repay Clay with a loan obtained from Martin Van Buren, who had also jumped on the Jackson bandwagon. Many of Clay's friends had never liked Kendall, and almost none of them trusted him, one describing him as "a famished wolf," and he now validated their worst suspicions. He mounted a merciless attack on Clay in the Argus, Argus, its central charge being that Clay had supported Adams only because Jackson refused to bargain. its central charge being that Clay had supported Adams only because Jackson refused to bargain.51 A lie repeated long enough becomes the truth, and Kendall's accusation coming on the heels of Buchanan's embarrassing denials was no coincidence. He asserted that he knew of letters written by Clay in early 1825 outlining his plans to make a deal with Adams, a clever claim that placed an impossible burden of proof on the accused. Clay, after all, could not definitively show that no such letters existed. Kendall demanded that every Clay correspondent release for publication all his letters. A political enemy even recruited neighborhood children to steal Clay's letters from John J. Crittenden's home. Kendall in the meantime thought he had stumbled on a much more promising lead. In the fall of 1827, he began focusing on the correspondence between Clay and Francis Preston Blair. At the time of the 1824 election, Clay and Blair had been close and regularly exchanged candid, often lighthearted letters on a variety of subjects. In the wake of the election, political differences had pushed them apart, though they remained cordial. Kendall wanted to see those letters.52 Clay wrote one of his letters to Blair on January 8, 1825, just one day before his meeting with Adams. Clay had said nothing that even hinted at a deal between him and Adams, but he had made embarrassing remarks in jest, such as describing his decision to support Adams instead of Jackson as "a choice of evils," a reference likely to strain his relationship with the president, possibly so far as to require his resignation.53 To Clay's relief, Blair refused to release the letter, citing the sanctity of private correspondence. Keeping the letter private, though, only fueled speculation that Clay had something harmful to hide. As the controversy became death by a thousand cuts, Clay concluded that the only way to stop the bleeding was to publish a massive body of irrefutable evidence. He began assembling it during the summer of 1827, and by the end of the year had numerous affidavits attesting to his determination to support Adams long before their January 9, 1825, meeting. He also had testimony that he had used no undue influence on any fellow congressmen and had insisted that every man vote his conscience. He released this To Clay's relief, Blair refused to release the letter, citing the sanctity of private correspondence. Keeping the letter private, though, only fueled speculation that Clay had something harmful to hide. As the controversy became death by a thousand cuts, Clay concluded that the only way to stop the bleeding was to publish a massive body of irrefutable evidence. He began assembling it during the summer of 1827, and by the end of the year had numerous affidavits attesting to his determination to support Adams long before their January 9, 1825, meeting. He also had testimony that he had used no undue influence on any fellow congressmen and had insisted that every man vote his conscience. He released this Address to the Public Address to the Public in December 1827. in December 1827.54 Friends assured Clay that the Address Address was a masterful creation certain to end all accusations of a "corrupt bargain," but that thinking was beyond wishful. It was deluded. Clay's publication did nothing to stop the attacks, and his exasperated friends in Kentucky took a step that actually made matters worse. Without his knowledge, Clay's allies in the state legislature introduced a resolution declaring him innocent of all charges that he had entered a "corrupt bargain." Rather than helping Clay, the resolution gave his enemies an opening to insist that the resolution required a thorough investigation of those charges. Clay later referred to it as his "trial" before the Kentucky legislature. It certainly resembled a criminal proceeding as witness after witness gave testimony, none of it pointing to anything shady but much of it crafted to achieve the most embarrassing effect. The legislature ultimately cleared Clay, but the hearings thoroughly aired all the unfounded accusations of wrongdoing, and their appearance in newspapers throughout the country gave them credibility. Proving guilt by omission is a legal impossibility in a court of law, but for public opinion it is the line of least resistance. Clay tried to make light of "the extraordinary proceeding," quipping that "if I am to be hung," he hoped he would "be duly notified of the time and place that I may present myself, in due form, to my executioner." was a masterful creation certain to end all accusations of a "corrupt bargain," but that thinking was beyond wishful. It was deluded. Clay's publication did nothing to stop the attacks, and his exasperated friends in Kentucky took a step that actually made matters worse. Without his knowledge, Clay's allies in the state legislature introduced a resolution declaring him innocent of all charges that he had entered a "corrupt bargain." Rather than helping Clay, the resolution gave his enemies an opening to insist that the resolution required a thorough investigation of those charges. Clay later referred to it as his "trial" before the Kentucky legislature. It certainly resembled a criminal proceeding as witness after witness gave testimony, none of it pointing to anything shady but much of it crafted to achieve the most embarrassing effect. The legislature ultimately cleared Clay, but the hearings thoroughly aired all the unfounded accusations of wrongdoing, and their appearance in newspapers throughout the country gave them credibility. Proving guilt by omission is a legal impossibility in a court of law, but for public opinion it is the line of least resistance. Clay tried to make light of "the extraordinary proceeding," quipping that "if I am to be hung," he hoped he would "be duly notified of the time and place that I may present myself, in due form, to my executioner."55 Clay fought back best he could, publishing a supplement to his pamphlet in the summer of 1828, but as the presidential election neared, the sheer quantity and rising volume of accusations became overwhelming. Kendall was unyielding in his insistence that Blair and Clay publish the January 8 letter, and Clay's friends began to suspect that Blair's resistance had nothing to do with scruples but was instead a way to keep the issue before the public. Clay suggested that trustworthy individuals read the letter and attest to its contents, but Kendall twisted that plan by at last discovering what the letter said and blatantly misquoting it to support his accusations. Kendall even turned his request for a high-paying government job against Clay, saying that it had been an attempt by Clay to buy his silence. It did not matter that Clay could prove Kendall had importuned him for the job and had refused it not on principle but from greed. The only people who believed Clay were the ones he did not need to convince.56 IN THE SPRING of 1827, Clay moved the family to the large and comfortable Decatur House on the northwest corner of President's Park (now Lafayette Square). He leased the dwelling from Susan Decatur, the widow of the naval hero Stephen Decatur. In making the move, Clay started a brief tradition. Until 1833, Decatur House would be the unofficial residence of the secretary of state, chiefly for the same reason Clay had moved into it. The house's spacious, cheerful rooms made entertaining easier. When Congress was in session, the administration held a Wednesday levee, and the Clays at Decatur House alternated weeks with John Quincy and Louisa Catherine Adams at the White House. Clay also wanted roomier accommodations for visiting family. Henry and Lucretia had endured much suffering, and they were never happier than when surrounded by their extended family. He often urged his son-in-law James Erwin to bring Anne to Washington for extended visits. Anne always cheered him up. of 1827, Clay moved the family to the large and comfortable Decatur House on the northwest corner of President's Park (now Lafayette Square). He leased the dwelling from Susan Decatur, the widow of the naval hero Stephen Decatur. In making the move, Clay started a brief tradition. Until 1833, Decatur House would be the unofficial residence of the secretary of state, chiefly for the same reason Clay had moved into it. The house's spacious, cheerful rooms made entertaining easier. When Congress was in session, the administration held a Wednesday levee, and the Clays at Decatur House alternated weeks with John Quincy and Louisa Catherine Adams at the White House. Clay also wanted roomier accommodations for visiting family. Henry and Lucretia had endured much suffering, and they were never happier than when surrounded by their extended family. He often urged his son-in-law James Erwin to bring Anne to Washington for extended visits. Anne always cheered him up.57 Clay needed cheering up. He organized Adams's reelection effort for 1828, an election that one perceptive observer remarked would result in "great personal heart burnings." Although he was convinced that presenting the American System to the people in a positive way would render Jackson's invective irrelevant, the constant attacks on his and the president's character kept the administration on the defensive. The campaign quickly descended to the lowest of political practices. Character assassination and fabricated smears became common coin in the newspapers and on speakers' platforms.58 Because the accusations against Adams had virtually no basis in fact, they were oddly more difficult to answer. Jacksonians snarled that Adams had raided the treasury to transform the Executive Mansion into a sumptuous palace, even purchasing a billiard table to indulge his hypocritical craving for low amusements like gambling. The part about the billiard table at least was accurate, for Adams did purchase one. He fastidiously reimbursed the government out of his own pocket, though, and he certainly did not turn the White House into a den of pool sharks. The fabrications against this impeccably moral man reached their nadir when New Hampshire journalist Isaac Hill spread the story that while U.S. minister to Russia, Adams had procured an American virgin for the carnal pleasure of Czar Alexander I.59 When Jacksonians were not derogating Adams's and Clay's characters, they found fault with the administration's failures, cloaking the fact that their obstructionism had foreordained those failures. Their stance nonetheless had the appearance of a program, even if only dimly ascertained as something other than the program of John Quincy Adams. By 1828, most voters were convinced that the Jacksonian program would be better, whatever it was.

Throughout his long career in politics and despite his considerable skill at framing issues, Clay never understood how this evolving dynamic worked. In 1828, he still believed a man's qualifications for office were a supremely important issue, making Jackson's fitness for the presidency a perfectly legitimate question; but Clay labored under the mistaken belief that telling the truth about Jackson would suffice. He encouraged his supporters to remind the country that Jackson was a "military chieftain," code words for a man inclined to Caesarism. Jackson himself had made the claim plausible by overstepping his authority in New Orleans and during the Seminole War, but the heat of the campaign caused his opponents to do some overstepping themselves. The most controversial instance of that was the "Coffin Handbill," a widely circulated broadsheet that excoriated Jackson for executing militiamen during the War of 1812 and killing Arbuthnot and Ambrister in Florida. Black coffins representing each of Jackson's victims bordered the handbill.60 Denouncing him for murderous rampages was not the worst of it, though. The nastiest charges against Jackson were salacious and regrettably involved his wife. The claim that he had married Rachel Donelson Robards before her divorce from her first husband had set tongues to wagging for years. Those foolish enough to snigger that he was an adulterer and she a bigamist took a very great risk indeed, for if Jackson could find them, he ruined them. One he had killed. In the campaign of 1828, however, the talk gained such wide currency that killing the gossips was impractical and trying to suppress the gossip impossible. The Adams press shamefully gloried in the story's shabbiest features, neglecting to mention any extenuating circumstances such as Jackson's mistaken belief that the divorce was final or that Rachel's first husband was abusive. Instead, coarse newspapermen with ink-stained fingers and cluttered offices put the elderly Rachel Jackson into the middle of a fight she little understood. Devout to the point of extreme piety, she shrank in shock as her name repeatedly appeared in public print, a violation of the rule about a proper lady being mentioned only at her birth, her marriage, and her death.

No evidence links Clay to these attacks. In fact, he apparently disapproved of them, but that hardly pardoned his silence when they appeared. His friend Charles Hammond, a Cincinnati newspaper editor, was one of Rachel Jackson's most vocal critics, and Clay did not try to stop Hammond nor did he condemn his columns. It was unfair that Jackson held Clay solely responsible for the defamation of his wife and family, and it is unlikely that Clay could have reined in heated partisans, but his inaction made him passively complicit in their actions. His silence was hardly golden.61 Jackson never shed his anger over this disreputable aspect of the 1828 campaign, and he never forgave Henry Clay for his supposed role in it. At the time, the potential for Jackson to lose his temper and convince the nation he was unqualified by temperament to be president greatly alarmed his friends. They strained to keep him calm while persuading him that reacting to the attacks would only encourage more, inviting the opposite of his desired result. They kept Jackson under wraps at the Hermitage and portrayed him as a virtuous patriot above the political fray. Henry Clay and his partner in crime John Quincy Adams were the sleazy wheeler-dealers willing to do or say anything to retain their ill-gotten power.62 Controlling Jackson was just one sign of a highly efficient political organization that had already shown its shrewdness in 1824. Jacksonians were better organized, controlled more newspapers, and had a keener understanding of what worked and what failed in rough-and-tumble campaigns. Everyone still called himself a Republican in these years, but the Adams wing began to distinguish itself from Jacksonians by adopting the label National Republicans. Many of these nationalists thought themselves clever in branding Jacksonians "democrats," but it indicated their blinkered vision. For them the word was a pejorative summoning the specter of unruly mobs, but in light of the country's rising egalitarianism, it eventually became a badge of honor, and Jacksonians eventually called themselves "the Democracy" or "Democrats," with a capital D.

Delaware and South Carolina were the only remaining states in which the legislature chose presidential electors, and Jacksonian state organizations were ready for the electoral revolution that portended. The new politics required reaching down to the local level and mobilizing one-gallused farmers, prosperous merchants, and local bankers, all wanting easy credit (not a big central bank curbing it) and upward mobility. Jackson clubs sprang up in this fertile ground of localism to throw barbecues, sponsor stump speeches, and promote politicians the voters knew and trusted.63 New York senator Martin Van Buren joined the Jacksonian movement, a sure sign of its vitality and appeal. Van Buren was an organizational genius, a "Little Magician" when it came to putting together invincible coalitions. He had strong political ties in the North, where he ran New York's powerful Albany Regency, and in the South, where many were still grateful for his supporting Georgian William H. Crawford, for whom Van Buren had tried to fashion a national organization in 1824. Four years later, his ability to forge an alliance between North and South made him invaluable to the Jacksonian movement. For his part, Van Buren saw in Andrew Jackson a man whose colossal popularity could transcend sectional concerns and regional differences, popularity that had politics' fabled coattails, making election victories inevitable and ensuring majorities that could endure for years. Van Buren's dream was to establish a muscular national political party that would be dominant for decades, possibly forever-or at least until the next election, the closest thing to forever in politics.64 The Adams campaign was a pathetic, withered creature in comparison, not just bloodied but bowed by the relentless accusations of swaggering Jacksonians. Rather than cultivating its own grass roots, Adams and Clay conducted themselves according to the quiet rituals of the past. The administration's friends wrote many letters, but mainly to one another, swapping information and cheering on political elites in states essential for victory-what are now called battleground states. Virginia, Clay's birthplace, was one of those states, and he tried to energize his extensive network there to counter Jackson's almost irresistible allure. Yet Clay aimed at a select group of prominent Adams supporters rather than at common voters. A plan to persuade former presidents James Madison and James Monroe to appear on the Virginia ballot as Adams electors, in essence securing their endorsements, fell through. Neither believed Andrew Jackson was fit for the presidency, but both also believed their obligations to that office prohibited them from demeaning it with ordinary politicking. Clay's disappointment was palpable, but he most certainly understood and later, upon reflection, he would applaud their reserve.65 For Jacksonians, the dignity of the presidency was something to employ rather than to preserve. They claimed to have the support of another former president from Virginia, more easily secured because he was dead. Thomas Jefferson had passed away on July 4, 1826, but his son-in-law Thomas Mann Randolph published an account of Jefferson's last days claiming that on his deathbed the Sage of Monticello had admitted to never trusting Henry Clay because of his bad character. Furthermore, Randolph said that Jefferson had declared his admiration for Andrew Jackson, who he said should be the next president. Over the course of twenty years, Randolph had become increasingly irrational, often to the point of derangement, making life at Monticello grim and edgy, especially for his wife, Jefferson's beloved daughter Martha. Randolph flew into a rage when Clay expressed doubt that Jefferson had disapproved of him as a person. Randolph set out for Washington to kill Clay, madly racing partway before he cooled down.

In short, he was a demented special pleader whose story about Jefferson's sentiments was dubious on its face. Anyone who knew the family was aware that Jefferson could hardly bring himself to exchange "good mornings" with his son-in-law, let alone open his mind to him on significant political issues. By the time Jackson's people in Virginia had taken up this wretched man's story to brandish it as the Jeffersonian gospel on the election of 1828, Randolph too had died. His widow, Martha, their eldest son, Thomas Jefferson Randolph, and friends of the family knew the tale to be a lie. Jeff Randolph privately told Clay that he was certain his grandfather had neither denounced Clay nor endorsed Jackson. Yet he also implored Clay to spare the family the shame of publically repudiating the deceased Randolph. Clay agreed and braced for the devastating blow this Jacksonian tactic dealt the administration in Virginia. More important than politics, after all, was protecting Thomas Jefferson's heirs, good people impoverished by their patriarch's spendthrift ways, left only with their pride. Clay's choice to leave that pride intact required his silence. This time, it was golden.66 THE LAST PIECE of the campaign puzzle for Jacksonians was to deal the administration a devastating legislative blow. During the 182728 session of the Twentieth Congress, they launched a plan to dismantle the one advantage the administration had in important manufacturing states: its adherence to a protective tariff. In July 1827, a pro-tariff convention had met at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, essentially a gathering of Clay supporters that some suspected the administration had instigated to show support for higher duties. When manufacturers clamored for Congress to shield American goods from foreign competition with a more robust protective tariff, the House Committee on Manufactures accordingly reported a bill in March 1828. Designed to placate factory owners in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York, the bill was mostly the work of Jacksonians marshaled by Van Buren, who had devised a way for them to have their legislative cake and eat it too. The bill deliberately ignored the interests of New England, where Jackson expected to receive few votes. The Jacksonian plan called for southerners to block all efforts to appease New England, aware that southern opposition to tariffs in general would join with Yankee anger over this one in particular to kill it in a final vote. Jacksonians would nevertheless be able to point to their attempt to help Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York while basking in the approval of the South and pointing to Adams's stronghold of New England as the principal culprit in defeating the bill. of the campaign puzzle for Jacksonians was to deal the administration a devastating legislative blow. During the 182728 session of the Twentieth Congress, they launched a plan to dismantle the one advantage the administration had in important manufacturing states: its adherence to a protective tariff. In July 1827, a pro-tariff convention had met at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, essentially a gathering of Clay supporters that some suspected the administration had instigated to show support for higher duties. When manufacturers clamored for Congress to shield American goods from foreign competition with a more robust protective tariff, the House Committee on Manufactures accordingly reported a bill in March 1828. Designed to placate factory owners in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York, the bill was mostly the work of Jacksonians marshaled by Van Buren, who had devised a way for them to have their legislative cake and eat it too. The bill deliberately ignored the interests of New England, where Jackson expected to receive few votes. The Jacksonian plan called for southerners to block all efforts to appease New England, aware that southern opposition to tariffs in general would join with Yankee anger over this one in particular to kill it in a final vote. Jacksonians would nevertheless be able to point to their attempt to help Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York while basking in the approval of the South and pointing to Adams's stronghold of New England as the principal culprit in defeating the bill.67 The plan played out perfectly in the House of Representatives, where all amendments were rejected and the bill passed in a narrow vote. It then went to the Senate, but there the unexpected happened. The plan's architect, Martin Van Buren, shifted course, threw southerners overboard, and allowed amendments that secured New England's support. The combination of Mid-Atlantic manufacturing states, the West, and New England easily passed the amended tariff in both the Senate and the House, and Adams signed it on May 19.

Regarding it as grievously injurious to their regional economy, southerners called the Tariff of 1828 the "Tariff of Abominations," a warning about weighty repercussions in the future. At the time, though, the Little Magician had never been more adroit in pulling off this legislative sleight of hand. Van Buren hoped to diminish the administration's appeal in the West by showing that Jacksonians would literally protect the region's interests. As for the South, Van Buren knew that just as New England would vote against against Jackson as much as Jackson as much as for for Adams, the South would vote Adams, the South would vote against against Adams as much as Adams as much as for for Jackson. Southerners, in short, had no other place to go, and Van Buren was not above selling them out while whispering assurances that the Jackson administration would set matters right. That they believed him bore out the masterful strategy of having Jackson be all things to all people. Jackson. Southerners, in short, had no other place to go, and Van Buren was not above selling them out while whispering assurances that the Jackson administration would set matters right. That they believed him bore out the masterful strategy of having Jackson be all things to all people.68 Henry Clay watched Van Buren's magic with ambivalence. Before Congress convened, he had heard rumors that the Jacksonians planned to hatch this scheme, but he was at a loss about how to counter it. Instructing administration supporters to oppose the measure would undermine the basic principle of protectionism, a significant element of the American System. That left him little choice but to support the Tariff of 1828, but he did so quietly and tepidly, as though swept up in an irresistible tide. Van Buren had never been more agile.69 And Henry Clay had seldom been sicker. Every winter he suffered from colds or influenza, sometimes both, and his chronic digestive problems sometimes laid him low. Grief had apparently begun to afflict Lucretia with a fragile stomach as well. Clay frequently visited mineral springs in Virginia and Kentucky to take the waters as well as dose himself with something stronger. (A resort's 182728 register at Virginia's White Sulphur Springs still listed in 1911 Clay's unpaid charge of twelve cents for a mint julep.) He went home during summers, hoping to restore his strength, but he never really rested on these trips, for he had become desperate over the election. He used his travels to meet with groups, however small, to make speeches, however repetitive, and to dispatch letters, however futile, to every corner of the country. By the spring of 1828, unrelenting toil and his usual physical ailments convinced Clay that he was dying.70 His changed appearance shocked a friend who had not recently seen him. He was "miserable; care-worn, wrinkled, haggard, and wearing out."71 A numbness in his left leg gradually moved toward his hip, baffling physicians as to its cause. Disregarding their warnings, Clay continued his grueling pace, a stooped figure whose noticeable limp made him seem decades older than his fifty years. Meeting with his secretary of state now always made Adams sad, for Clay's ashen face and sunken body were scarred monuments to the remorseless "obloquy, slander, and persecution" of the previous three years. A numbness in his left leg gradually moved toward his hip, baffling physicians as to its cause. Disregarding their warnings, Clay continued his grueling pace, a stooped figure whose noticeable limp made him seem decades older than his fifty years. Meeting with his secretary of state now always made Adams sad, for Clay's ashen face and sunken body were scarred monuments to the remorseless "obloquy, slander, and persecution" of the previous three years.72 In April, Clay finally surrendered to his declining health. Announcing that "he must go home and die or get better," he tried to resign, but Adams urged him to consult other physicians. Clay traveled to Philadelphia to see the renowned doctors Philip Physick and Nathaniel Chapman. They tapped, prodded, stared, and finally concluded what was wrong with him. In April, Clay finally surrendered to his declining health. Announcing that "he must go home and die or get better," he tried to resign, but Adams urged him to consult other physicians. Clay traveled to Philadelphia to see the renowned doctors Philip Physick and Nathaniel Chapman. They tapped, prodded, stared, and finally concluded what was wrong with him.

He was not dying, they said. Instead, as Adams had suspected, Clay was suffering from nervous exhaustion. He listened with lighthearted relief to the diagnosis and its cure: a better diet, prescribed medicines, regular exercise, and above all, rest.73 His friends had been more than concerned, and when Clay returned to Washington, Josiah Johnston was typical in laughing aloud when he heard the news. If Jackson "should be elected," he chuckled to Clay, "he will unintentionally do for you what your friends Can not advise-He will save your life by relieving you from the Cares of State." His friends had been more than concerned, and when Clay returned to Washington, Josiah Johnston was typical in laughing aloud when he heard the news. If Jackson "should be elected," he chuckled to Clay, "he will unintentionally do for you what your friends Can not advise-He will save your life by relieving you from the Cares of State."74 As much as he could in the home stretch of the campaign, Clay followed his doctors' orders. He went to Kentucky, campaigning along the way, but then vacationed at the Virginia Springs. He continued his remarkable level of correspondence, sending Adams a steady stream of advice in letters made urgent by Clay's discovery of treachery within the administration. The situation was the result of Adams's quaint attitude about federal patronage. Jacksonians repeatedly charged that Adams regularly fired qualified officeholders to replace them with political hacks, yet Adams had actually been more than scrupulous about appointments. Though swamped by supporters wanting jobs, Adams never weighed political loyalty when making appointments. Correspondingly, he felt it was inappropriate to remove someone from his post simply because he differed with the administration.

Clay had always thought Adams's scruples about this matter were ill judged. The overarching tolerance of dissent within the administration weakened its policies and made it vulnerable in elections. Postmaster General John McLean was a steadfast partisan of John C. Calhoun, who was running for reelection to the vice presidency on Jackson's ticket. McLean had been openly using the Post Office's extensive patronage to place Jacksonians in positions of influence throughout the country, and Clay's travels uncovered for him that many federal officials not only differed with the administration but were actively working to defeat it. Clay urged Adams to fire McLean, but Adams refused.75 Clay would have dreaded returning to Washington, except for the anticipation of rejoining his family. Decatur House was full of family. Anne and James had come to Washington that spring with their two children. Julia Duralde Erwin, named for John Clay's wife, was two and a half, a Christmas Eve baby. Little Henry Clay Erwin, born the previous June, met his grandparents for the first time. Anne had always claimed a special place in Clay's heart, and now that she was his only daughter, he particularly doted on her. Something about Anne, the tilt of her head, the arch of an eyebrow, her laughter, her turn of phrase, all made her a grand companion. She was much like him in her unshakable optimism and ready wit, but nothing narcissistic tinged his regard for her, because in truth he regarded her as a better version of himself. Anne had his humor, but she also had her mother's gentleness and her aunt Nancy's sparkle, an appropriate gift from her namesake. Not only Clay noticed that rooms brightened when Anne entered them, and one could always find Anne at parties by following the laughter. As Clay traveled for his health, she wrote him letters full of funny stories and clever anecdotes.76 Clay was still at White Sulphur Springs when he received the troubling news that Anne's little girl, Julia, was sick with a fever. Other members of the family, including Lucretia and James, also became ill, but as they recovered, Julia faded away. Always a frail child, she did not have enough fight in her and died that August. Clay tried to console Anne and James, but he knew words were of little use. He diverged from his travel plans to meet them along the road when they started for their home in Tennessee early that fall, a somber reunion and sad farewell. Clay returned to a Decatur House still subdued by Julia's death, a sharp contrast to Washington's jittery excitement over the looming election.77 Clay had worked tirelessly for more than three years to reelect John Quincy Adams, but his efforts had fallen short of what successful campaigning now required. He had persisted in the misguided conviction that if Adams used the patronage properly (Adams had ignored the advice) or chose the right running mate (Clay volunteered), the people would elect the aloof Puritan over the popular general. When Clay returned to Washington from his summer trip, his optimism had waned under the obvious signs of Jackson's inevitability. Adams had accepted his fate months before. At last, Clay was resigned to it.78 Kentucky elected Adams supporter Thomas Metcalfe governor, but it gave both houses of the legislature to Jacksonian majorities and went for Jackson in the presidential contest, a result worse than anyone could have imagined and especially mortifying to Clay. Nationally, Jackson won almost 56 percent of the popular vote and amassed an Electoral College margin of 178 to 83 over Adams.79 Clay firmly believed that the Jacksonian smears had been the deciding factor in the election, but it was understandable that he would exaggerate that aspect of the campaign.80 The relentless program of defamation had obviously hurt Adams and Clay, but much of the country simply balked at the prospect of the economic nationalism that Clay and Adams espoused, and Clay found it hard to fathom that reluctance. He always would. On the other hand, Jackson's victory filled Clay with a smoldering dread. He believed that the worst said about this man was all too true. Jackson had not only lied but had been caught in that lie, and the great majority of voters had not cared. "No greater calamity [than Jackson's election] has fallen to our lot since we were a free people," he said with great sadness. Something beyond politics, beyond elections, beyond speeches and policies, was terribly wrong with the country. Clay trembled for it. The relentless program of defamation had obviously hurt Adams and Clay, but much of the country simply balked at the prospect of the economic nationalism that Clay and Adams espoused, and Clay found it hard to fathom that reluctance. He always would. On the other hand, Jackson's victory filled Clay with a smoldering dread. He believed that the worst said about this man was all too true. Jackson had not only lied but had been caught in that lie, and the great majority of voters had not cared. "No greater calamity [than Jackson's election] has fallen to our lot since we were a free people," he said with great sadness. Something beyond politics, beyond elections, beyond speeches and policies, was terribly wrong with the country. Clay trembled for it.81 He allowed himself a brief interlude of self-pity and anger before resolving to banish both. He set himself to jollying dejected friends out of their dark moods as well, for Clay likened sadness to sickness, and the only effective treatment was a smart joke and a bright outlook. He told Frank Brooke not to be discouraged, that they all should embrace "hope and fortitude," that the country would survive.82 When Hezekiah Niles, the editor of the influential When Hezekiah Niles, the editor of the influential Niles' Weekly Register, Niles' Weekly Register, named his newborn son Henry Clay Niles, Clay said with mock solemnity that the name was not a good indication "of your discretion at this time." named his newborn son Henry Clay Niles, Clay said with mock solemnity that the name was not a good indication "of your discretion at this time."83 He assured friends that he would continue to fight for those principles to which he had "dedicated my public life," just not right away. The prospect of going home for an extended stay was more than appealing. Lucretia would be there with him as always, and his Ashland would become an oasis. In the weeks after the election, as his friends had laughingly predicted, Clay's health improved. He assured friends that he would continue to fight for those principles to which he had "dedicated my public life," just not right away. The prospect of going home for an extended stay was more than appealing. Lucretia would be there with him as always, and his Ashland would become an oasis. In the weeks after the election, as his friends had laughingly predicted, Clay's health improved.84 Over the next three months, he wrapped up business in the State Department and prepared to go home, while Adams did the same in the White House. Adams offered Clay a seat on the Supreme Court, but he had no taste for the bench, and it was likely fortunate that he declined in any case. At Clay's suggestion, Adams nominated Clay's protege John J. Crittenden, but the Senate mulishly refused to consider confirmation until the new Congress convened. The Senate then let the nomination die.85 The final session of the Twentieth Congress at least meant parties would liven up the capital, and the administration gamely resumed the Wednesday levees at Decatur House and Executive Mansion on alternating weeks. The Clays also hosted lively dinners, giving him a chance to gauge people's views about the incoming administration. He was already contemplating the best way to oppose the radical changes that Jackson and his compliant congressional majorities were sure to enact. His friends assumed that Clay would lead the opposition to the administration, even if he had to do so from Kentucky.86 The impending arrival of the president-elect from Tennessee filled Washington with considerable anticipation that only increased when news arrived that Rachel Jackson was dead, a victim, it was said, of her being dragged through the newspapers during the campaign, rough treatment that had broken her heart at the time and had finally stopped it. Jackson now had even more reason to wade into his political enemies, smiting them with biblical vengeance for killing his wife. On less conspicuous levels, many government workers nervously looked for other employment.87 Biblical retribution, in fact, seemed the order of the day in Washington, a Babylon of corruption according to Jacksonians. Adams and his cabinet took violently ill. Some secretaries could not leave their houses for days, and the Clays became shut-ins, Lucretia falling sick as well. Margaret Bayard Smith came calling one evening to judge their recuperation and found Lucretia sitting quietly in a chair watching over her sleeping husband on the sofa. When Clay blinked awake, he found both women sitting quietly, gazing at him. Margaret thought he looked very ill and very sad. This close friend suddenly realized she had been allowed to see something extraordinary, something only the Clay family, and possibly only Lucretia, knew as the truth. Like people of a later time who discovered that the laughing Abraham Lincoln was actually a man of deep melancholy, Margaret Bayard Smith had a revelation. When Henry Clay turned his face to the world, he wore a "mask of smiles."88 The last administration levee occurred at the Clays', and he donned an especially cheerful mask for the occasion. Jackson had already arrived in town, and as office seekers crowded his rooms at the National Hotel, rumors flew around town about his cabinet selections. The attendees at the Clays' party, all Adams and Clay supporters, gossiped the night away about the abysmal choices Old Hickory was sure to make.89 As usual, Clay enlivened the gathering, moving from group to group, laughing as if lighthearted. Always "free and easy in his conversation," Clay could put even strangers at ease to "discuss topics with as much freedom as if he were an old acquaintance." As usual, Clay enlivened the gathering, moving from group to group, laughing as if lighthearted. Always "free and easy in his conversation," Clay could put even strangers at ease to "discuss topics with as much freedom as if he were an old acquaintance."90 Lucretia stood smiling, graciously receiving her guests, though still so ailing "she could scarcely stand." Lucretia stood smiling, graciously receiving her guests, though still so ailing "she could scarcely stand."91 She had reason to smile, though, for the prospect of going home made her so cheerful that she had stopped wearing mourning clothes and instead wore the fashionable Parisian gowns that Nancy had insisted on sending in the darkest days of her sister's grief. She had reason to smile, though, for the prospect of going home made her so cheerful that she had stopped wearing mourning clothes and instead wore the fashionable Parisian gowns that Nancy had insisted on sending in the darkest days of her sister's grief.92 Margaret Smith attended this last official gathering with regret. She dreaded the prospect of her two dear friends leaving the capital, and she pondered the possibility that she would never see them again. During their friendship of more than twenty years, she had developed an enduring admiration for Henry Clay, and his fate seemed terribly unfair. She studied him as he mingled smiling among his guests, "so courteous and gracious, and agreeable, that every one remarked it and remarked he was determined we should regret him" (that is, miss him). Her eyes blurred with tears, and she moved to a quiet corner to compose herself. Clay was suddenly at her side asking what was wrong. She was just sad to see them go, she said. With her hand "pressed in his without speaking, his eyes filled with tears and with an effort he said, 'We must not think of this, or talk of such things now. now.'" He put his handkerchief to his eyes before turning back to the crowd of people. As he walked away from Margaret, he was again wearing his mask of smiles.93 THE CABINET DECIDED not to attend Jackson's inauguration, a choice that suited Adams and Clay just fine. They saw no reason to give their symbolic imprimatur to a man who had called them corrupt political schemers. With the exception of Clay's replacement, Martin Van Buren, Jackson's cabinet choices were a singularly undistinguished group of political cronies with few qualifications for office. They all had contempt for Henry Clay, though, and that raised them in Jackson's estimation. Jackson named Clay's former protege William T. Barry as postmaster general, an appointment that was particularly insulting. A political ally described Barry as "not fit for any station which require[d] great intellectual force or moral firmness," but he had lost against Metcalfe in the Kentucky governor's race and was made postmaster general as a reward for supporting Jackson in Kentucky. not to attend Jackson's inauguration, a choice that suited Adams and Clay just fine. They saw no reason to give their symbolic imprimatur to a man who had called them corrupt political schemers. With the exception of Clay's replacement, Martin Van Buren, Jackson's cabinet choices were a singularly undistinguished group of political cronies with few qualifications for office. They all had contempt for Henry Clay, though, and that raised them in Jackson's estimation. Jackson named Clay's former protege William T. Barry as postmaster general, an appointment that was particularly insulting. A political ally described Barry as "not fit for any station which require[d] great intellectual force or moral firmness," but he had lost against Metcalfe in the Kentucky governor's race and was made postmaster general as a reward for supporting Jackson in Kentucky.94 Jackson's selection of his close friend John H. Eaton as secretary of war caused the most gossip. Eaton's qualifications were suspect, but his recent marriage to Margaret O'Neal Timberlake was the real cause of the parlor chatter that gripped the capital. The former Mrs. Timberlake had married Eaton on New Year's Day 1829, only a few months after the suicide of her husband. Many believed that she had been Eaton's mistress before Timberlake's death, and ribald as well as scatological jokes at the Eatons' expense were soon making the rounds. Marrying the Timberlake widow, said one, was like using a chamber pot and then putting it on one's head. The ladies of Washington, however, found the marriage no laughing matter. When Floride Calhoun and cabinet members' wives refused to socialize with Mrs. Eaton, they clashed with Andrew Jackson, who so vociferously defended Margaret Eaton that he allowed "the Eaton malaria" to become "the Peggy Eaton Affair" and disrupt the first two years of his administration. Jackson reflexively blamed Clay for all the trouble, even though the women doing the snubbing were married to Clay's political enemies. After Clay left town, Jackson cast around for someone else to blame, finally settling his wrath on his vice president, Floride Calhoun's husband. Clay's supporters found it all highly amusing.95 Clay would have found it amusing as well, but another family crisis had him and Lucretia racked with worry: Thomas Hart Clay was in a Philadelphia jail because of his bad debts in the city. The situation humiliated them while branding Thomas as completely dissolute, possibly beyond redemption. He was almost twenty-six, but neither the study of law nor the opening of his practice had steadied him. He drank heavily, squandered money gambling, and now had seemingly hit bottom. Clay tried to handle the situation from Washington, but neither he nor Lucretia could sleep as they churned with worry over their wretched son and cringed over the shame he was bringing on the family. After some difficulty in tracking down all the debts and fines his son had incurred, Clay paid them and arranged to have Thomas conveyed to Lexington. The prospect of having to deal with him at Ashland made the idea of their homecoming less cheery.96 Clay and Adams said their farewells the day before Jackson's inauguration, Clay observing the formality of tendering his resignation during the courtesy call. Considering their rocky start in Ghent fifteen years earlier, they had worked well together, and Clay expressed his hope that they could stay in touch in retirement.97 Neither of them was present the next day when Washington saw an unparalleled spectacle as Andrew Jackson became the seventh president of the United States. Thousands upon thousands of Old Hickoryites, those one-gallused farmers, prosperous merchants, and shade tree bankers among them, had flooded the town to celebrate the inauguration, and they descended on the presidential "Palace" to sample the delicacies prepared for the elite of Washington society. The "majesty of the people" in all its rambunctious and boisterous enthusiasm shocked an official Washington accustomed to the staid dignity of Madison and Monroe and the taciturn reserve of John Quincy Adams. While official Washington frowned, the crowds roared, and Henry Clay could whisper, Told you so. Told you so.98 Instead of attending the inauguration, Clay was busy with yet another family crisis. As with Thomas's ordeal, this one was embarrassing. When they moved their household in 1825, the Clays had brought the house slaves Aaron and Charlotte Dupuy to Washington. Aaron was slightly younger than Clay and had been with him from the time of his youth in the Slashes of Hanover County. Elizabeth and Hal Watkins took Aaron Dupuy with them to Kentucky, and subsequently Clay made Aaron his manservant. The two usually traveled together. Lottie, as everyone called her, had been born on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, where one James Condon, a tailor by trade, had purchased her in Cambridge, Maryland, while she was still a child. Condon took her to Kentucky, where she eventually met and married Aaron, who enlisted Lucretia to persuade Clay to buy her. Clay did so in 1806, even though Condon apparently took advantage of the situation to demand a high price. Lucretia brought Lottie into the house at Ashland to help with the children. She and Aaron along the way had two children of their own, Charles and Mary Anne.99 While they were in Washington, Clay twice allowed Lottie to visit her family on the Eastern Shore, and he later suspected that these trips were the root of all the subsequent trouble. As the family prepared to return to Kentucky after the election of 1828, Lottie announced that she would not go. Insisting that she was free, she filed a petition on February 19, 1829, in the U.S. Circuit Court for the District of Columbia. The deed shocked and angered Clay. Though he had remained active in the American Colonization Society, Lottie's stance called into question his sincerity about gradual emancipation. Clay actually had worked to obtain the freedom of a number of slaves and had been instrumental in freeing and repatriating the African prince Abd Rahman Ibrahima, sold into slavery after his capture in battle. Now he was convinced that Lottie had become the pawn of his political enemies, who even in victory were leaving no stone unturned in their quest to discredit him. True enough, Lottie Dupuy's suit obviously had not been filed in a vacuum, and it did damage to Clay's reputation as a benevolent master.100 Nevertheless, Clay decided to fight the court battle. Lottie and the people supporting her suit had made him angry, and he was concerned that the suit would encourage other political opponents to adopt the same tactics in order to embarrass their adversaries. Whether his enemies were in fact behind Lottie's legal action never became known, but if embarrassing him was their aim, they succeeded. He appeared petty and vindictive as he retained lawyers on the Eastern Shore and in Washington to gather depositions and refute Lottie's claims.

Clay believed those claims were groundless. Lottie's suit cited two reasons for granting her freedom. She stated that her mother in Maryland had been free, thus making her free as well. Clay easily proved that Lottie's mother had not been freed until years after Lottie's birth. The other reason stemmed from a promise by James Condon to free her after she had put in years of faithful service, a pledge that Lottie said should now be honored because she had fulfilled her part of the bargain. The court ultimately dismissed that claim as well, ruling that Condon had canceled his pledge by selling Lottie without any conditions.

Adjudicating these questions took time, and under instructions from the court, Clay left Lottie at Decatur House when the family left Washington for Ashland. His attorneys handled the case to its conclusion while Lottie worked as a domestic servant for the new secretary of state, who was also the new tenant of Decatur House, Martin Van Buren. After Lottie lost her bid for freedom, Clay placed her in Anne Erwin's home in New Orleans to help with her children before bringing her back to Ashland. She seems to have borne him no ill will and instead resumed her role in the Clay family without complaint, suggesting that his suspicions about the real authors of this controversy were true. He bore her no ill will either. In 1840, Clay freed Lottie and her daughter Mary Anne in gratitude for her devoted care of his children and grandchildren. She apparently remained at Ashland with Aaron, who had by then turned over his duties as Clay's servant to their son, Charles Dupuy.101 In addition to the embarrassing complications posed by Thomas and Lottie, parting from friends in Washington saddened Clay and Lucretia as much as the prospect of returning home gladdened them. The possible consequences of the election also continued to worry Clay. At a farewell dinner at the Mansion Hotel, Clay warned the assembled crowd about the potential for tyranny arising in this new administration. He cited the example of Latin American republics succumbing to military dictatorship as a somber warning of what could happen under Andrew Jackson. He also praised the five hundred thousand citizens who had voted for Adams, evidence "of virtue, of intelligence, of religion, and of genuine patriotism ... unsurpassed ... in this or any other country."102 It sounded like a campaign speech. It sounded like a campaign speech.