It was.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Losing the Bank, Saving the Union THEIR RETURN TO Ashland was bittersweet. Almost four years as a rental property had left the house and grounds in some disrepair, and Clay threw himself into refurbishing the buildings and reviving the farm. Lucretia purchased new furniture for the mansion, and Clay tended to livestock and planting. Friends urged him to return to politics, but he refused. His health needed restoring as much as his home did. For a while, personal affairs became his exclusive focus. Ashland was bittersweet. Almost four years as a rental property had left the house and grounds in some disrepair, and Clay threw himself into refurbishing the buildings and reviving the farm. Lucretia purchased new furniture for the mansion, and Clay tended to livestock and planting. Friends urged him to return to politics, but he refused. His health needed restoring as much as his home did. For a while, personal affairs became his exclusive focus.

For the rest of his life, he spoke with pride about his accomplishments at Ashland, the most stunning of which was Ashland itself. Visitors described the farm as comprising "the most highly cultivated grounds in all Kentucky."1 In addition to growing hemp and grains, Clay continued to breed fine livestock, especially top-quality racehorses. Often in partnership with others, he bought blooded mares and stud horses to make Ashland a renowned source of prized bloodlines, and the place's reputation for producing fast horseflesh spread throughout the country. One of his studs, Stamboul, was ungainly in appearance but earned $2,650 in one year alone. In addition to growing hemp and grains, Clay continued to breed fine livestock, especially top-quality racehorses. Often in partnership with others, he bought blooded mares and stud horses to make Ashland a renowned source of prized bloodlines, and the place's reputation for producing fast horseflesh spread throughout the country. One of his studs, Stamboul, was ungainly in appearance but earned $2,650 in one year alone.2 Clay placed twelve-year-old James and eight-year-old John in a Lexington school. He did not know what to do with Theodore and Thomas, who had floundered from one career to another. Law, farming, or manufacturing variously engrossed them, but their zest for anything always waned. He and Lucretia loved them to the point of distraction, which made their capacity to disappoint so distracting. "Oh!" Clay once howled, "no language can describe ... the pain that I have suffered on account of these two boys." As the recent caper in Philadelphia had shown, Thomas was a bounder. Nobody suspected, however, what was in store for Theodore.3 Clay consoled himself that James and John could still amount to something, but his dreams for young Henry placed a heavy burden on the boy. "If you too disappoint my anxious hopes," Clay told him, "a constitution never good, and now almost exhausted, would sink beneath the pressure." Young Henry became, in short, "the pride and hope of your family."4 Under such pressure, the boy fed on worry, almost choking on the possibility that any failure would diminish him in Papa's eyes. Henry once timidly ventured that possibly his intellectual abilities were "not above mediocrity," but Clay would have none of that. He continually insisted to Henry that he was smart and clever and naturally could succeed at anything. Clay's certainty did not so much reassure the boy as it stirred his doubts and added additional links to his invisible chain of worry. Papa was always offering advice and pushing him to work harder, to do better, to improve. Henry should read more, Clay said, and should learn the "dead languages." Clay had always regretted not learning Latin and Greek, and when he urged his son to correct that deficiency in himself, Henry suddenly had another burden, another way to disappoint, another way to fail. Under such pressure, the boy fed on worry, almost choking on the possibility that any failure would diminish him in Papa's eyes. Henry once timidly ventured that possibly his intellectual abilities were "not above mediocrity," but Clay would have none of that. He continually insisted to Henry that he was smart and clever and naturally could succeed at anything. Clay's certainty did not so much reassure the boy as it stirred his doubts and added additional links to his invisible chain of worry. Papa was always offering advice and pushing him to work harder, to do better, to improve. Henry should read more, Clay said, and should learn the "dead languages." Clay had always regretted not learning Latin and Greek, and when he urged his son to correct that deficiency in himself, Henry suddenly had another burden, another way to disappoint, another way to fail.5 He entered the United States Military Academy in 1827 and excelled, much to his father's delight. The challenges at West Point amplified his serious, diligent qualities.6 Anne saw him in Washington during the summer of 1828 and joked to her father that Henry was at the age when young men are "obliged to put on a very sage and serious air to remind one of" their dignity. Eliza Johnston, wife of Clay's friend Josiah Johnston, had a similar impression while visiting Henry Jr. in Philadelphia, a meeting that left her "surprised to see how grave he has grown." Henry was seventeen, brimming with anxiety. Anne saw him in Washington during the summer of 1828 and joked to her father that Henry was at the age when young men are "obliged to put on a very sage and serious air to remind one of" their dignity. Eliza Johnston, wife of Clay's friend Josiah Johnston, had a similar impression while visiting Henry Jr. in Philadelphia, a meeting that left her "surprised to see how grave he has grown." Henry was seventeen, brimming with anxiety.7 He was also increasingly uncertain about his career path and gradually had doubts about the army. He even asked for his father's approval to withdraw from the Academy, but Clay was mindful of youthful whimsies, even in his overly serious son, and counseled against a rash decision. Henry obeyed. Henry always obeyed. After the election of 1828, however, Clay agreed that his son's chances in an army under President Jackson had considerably dimmed, particularly because he was Henry Clay, Jr. They both deliberated over alternative careers, the boy always anxious to have Papa's approval. West Point had trained him to be an engineer, and Henry rather enjoyed the work, the clear precision of mathematics appealing to his temperament. Yet when Papa expressed a preference for the law, Henry agreed that perhaps the law would be best.

Occasionally Clay realized what he was doing to this boy and sometimes told Henry to take his counsel as suggestions rather than instructions. Henry, however, was instinctively dutiful. He insisted that he "must consider them as commands doubly binding for they proceed from one so vastly my superior in all respects and to whom I am under such great obligations that the mere intimation of an opinion will be sufficient to govern my conduct."8 From anyone else, that mouthful would have been suspiciously obsequious; but with good reason, Papa never doubted his son's sincerity. When Henry graduated second in his class in 1831, Henry wrongly suspected that by falling short of first he had disappointed Papa. Brimming with anxiety, he resolved to try harder and after a year resigned his commission-to study law. From anyone else, that mouthful would have been suspiciously obsequious; but with good reason, Papa never doubted his son's sincerity. When Henry graduated second in his class in 1831, Henry wrongly suspected that by falling short of first he had disappointed Papa. Brimming with anxiety, he resolved to try harder and after a year resigned his commission-to study law.

After Eliza and Susan died, Clay doted on Anne, and not just because she was his only surviving daughter. He openly admitted that she was "one of the few sources which I have of real happiness," but both her vivacious temperament and the fact that Clay treated her as a friend rather than a project kept her from feeling, as Henry did, that her papa's devotion was too great not to be disappointed.9 Clay was never able to make his sons his friends, not even after they married and had children of their own. With Anne, everything was different. Her letters were playful and informative, full of puns and amusing stories about her, James, and the children. James Jr., she said, was "becoming quite a beauty, at least for his opportunities, not having any to inherit from either side of the house." Clay was never able to make his sons his friends, not even after they married and had children of their own. With Anne, everything was different. Her letters were playful and informative, full of puns and amusing stories about her, James, and the children. James Jr., she said, was "becoming quite a beauty, at least for his opportunities, not having any to inherit from either side of the house."10 Clay constantly urged James Erwin to bring her to Ashland for lengthy visits, and they did come often, usually between Anne's pregnancies, which meant their arrival always filled the house with chattering children and Anne's laughter. Clay constantly urged James Erwin to bring her to Ashland for lengthy visits, and they did come often, usually between Anne's pregnancies, which meant their arrival always filled the house with chattering children and Anne's laughter.11 In 1831, Erwin bought the Woodlands, a house near Ashland, and planned for the family to spend a large part of every year in Lexington. Clay was jubilant. In 1831, Erwin bought the Woodlands, a house near Ashland, and planned for the family to spend a large part of every year in Lexington. Clay was jubilant.

Lucretia thrived on the grandchildren. Susan's boys, Martin Duralde III and Henry Clay Duralde, spent much of their childhood at Ashland or traveling with the Clays. The lads spoke only French at first, but Lucretia organized a program for the whole family of English instruction disguised as a game, and soon her little Creoles were speaking, reading, and writing like Kentuckians. Clay sent them to private schools, and they grew up surrounded by family, which in some ways was a mixed blessing. John Morrison Clay was only two years older than young Martin and three years older than Henry Duralde, and he could be overbearing and sometimes cruel in the manner of a spiteful older brother rather than a loving uncle.12 Life continued to pepper the family with losses. Some were expected, but no less sad. In the fall of 1829, Hal Watkins collapsed one afternoon and never again rose from his bed. His death marked the passing of more than a kind cousin, for Hal was the only father Henry Clay had ever known. Clay had often visited his parents at their farm outside Versailles and often wrote to his mother, Elizabeth, when in Washington, though she apparently did not save any of his letters. She wrote her only surviving letter to him while he was at the State Department, but she mentioned his letters as always welcome. She had a clear hand, her penmanship not unlike her famous son's, but her phrasing was stilted and studied, and her letters were likely rare. Elizabeth had been failing for years, and Hal's death deprived her of both his loving companionship and his care. When Clay went to the farm to help bury Hal, he gently told the feeble, grieving woman to come home to Ashland where she would want for nothing and would have everything money and love could provide. No, she said, she would stay in Versailles with Clay's half sister, her daughter, Patsy Blackburn. Only ten days after Hal's death, she died too and was placed next to him in the quiet country graveyard outside Versailles. Three years later, when Lucretia lost her elderly mother, Susannah Hart, apparently the victim of a stroke, the Clays buried the last of their parents.13 Just days after he had buried Hal and Elizabeth, Clay received news that his brother John had died aboard a steamboat while returning to New Orleans from St. Louis, the distance from his home requiring his burial in the Arkansas Territory. Also in 1829, Clay's brother Porter lost his wife, Sophia.14 The worst blow, however, was the fate of Nancy Brown. Before their return from France, James had reported that Lucretia's sister was gravely ill. She had discovered a lump in her breast and was experiencing a mysterious numbness in her face that puzzled all her doctors. The family read the grim reports and began to expect the worst. As they anxiously awaited the Browns' return, specks of cheerful news during the summer and fall of 1829 gave them hope that Nancy was becoming her old self again, but clearly she had breast cancer, and the brief rally only disguised its rapid spread. When Nancy died suddenly of an internal hemorrhage in the fall of 1830, Henry and Lucretia were stunned. James Brown dissolved in grief and never really recovered. Nancy's laughter and lilting voice had made unthinkable that anything bad could happen to her, and her death pushed the world askew on its axis. Clay found his brother-in-law inconsolable and took on the sad duty of settling Nancy's estate.15 BEFORE THE ELECTION of 1828, Jacksonian editor Duff Green had made a prediction. "Mr. Clay will not die without a struggle," he warned Kentuckian Richard M. Johnson, who was also moving into Jackson's camp. "The poison will still remain in his fangs; and so vindictive is he that those who have stood in his way need expect no mercy at his hand." Jackson's election, said Green, would only briefly dispirit Clay, who would then immediately "organize an opposition." of 1828, Jacksonian editor Duff Green had made a prediction. "Mr. Clay will not die without a struggle," he warned Kentuckian Richard M. Johnson, who was also moving into Jackson's camp. "The poison will still remain in his fangs; and so vindictive is he that those who have stood in his way need expect no mercy at his hand." Jackson's election, said Green, would only briefly dispirit Clay, who would then immediately "organize an opposition."16 Green understood the man and knew what drove him. Though ostensibly retired from public life, Clay remained a public figure, delivering the occasional speech and maintaining a wide correspondence with numerous friends throughout the country. He lamented that "the course of the new administration is so far worse than its worst enemies could have anticipated," because a "deluded people" had not only elected "a most incompetent but vindictive" president as well.17 Clay was reacting to stories about Jackson's turning out federal officeholders. A few years later, New York Democrat senator William Marcy famously remarked, "To the victor belong the spoils of the enemy," and gave the colloquial label "Spoils System" to what Jacksonians preferred to gussy up as "rotation in office." By any name, however, it amounted to the rewarding of political supporters with public appointments, a system successfully employed by political machines in New York and Pennsylvania to sustain support through the public payroll. To some extent, each administration from Jefferson onward had replaced officeholders, but the tradition had persisted from the colonial era that only bad behavior, and certainly not political affiliation, merited removal from office. Adams, much to Clay's chagrin, had resisted removing even open turncoats, such as McLean. In that respect, the advent of Jackson's presidency did mark an acute change. Jackson claimed he was cleansing corruption, but some of the rogues he rewarded hardly provided convincing proof of his regard for honest government. Old Hickory's spontaneous inclination to punish opponents and Van Buren's appreciation for the power of patronage helped to magnify as well as systemize the Spoils System. Clay was reacting to stories about Jackson's turning out federal officeholders. A few years later, New York Democrat senator William Marcy famously remarked, "To the victor belong the spoils of the enemy," and gave the colloquial label "Spoils System" to what Jacksonians preferred to gussy up as "rotation in office." By any name, however, it amounted to the rewarding of political supporters with public appointments, a system successfully employed by political machines in New York and Pennsylvania to sustain support through the public payroll. To some extent, each administration from Jefferson onward had replaced officeholders, but the tradition had persisted from the colonial era that only bad behavior, and certainly not political affiliation, merited removal from office. Adams, much to Clay's chagrin, had resisted removing even open turncoats, such as McLean. In that respect, the advent of Jackson's presidency did mark an acute change. Jackson claimed he was cleansing corruption, but some of the rogues he rewarded hardly provided convincing proof of his regard for honest government. Old Hickory's spontaneous inclination to punish opponents and Van Buren's appreciation for the power of patronage helped to magnify as well as systemize the Spoils System.

McLean landed on the Supreme Court for supporting Old Hickory, but he nervously predicted that the administration's ruthless system of replacement would soon fill "the vials of wrath" among Jackson's foes. Kentuckian William T. Barry, once Clay's friend but now Jackson's postmaster general, also worried that the wholesale dismissals could cause unrest not just among the opposition but of a general sort.18 Most, however, shouldered up to the trough. The previous winter, Amos Kendall took special delight in conveying Kentucky's Electoral College vote to Washington, and he soon met with Jackson to emerge from the interview as the new fourth auditor of the Treasury with an annual salary of $3,000, double what he had unsuccessfully tried to pry from Clay. In this bidding war, Andrew Jackson knew the value of a man who bought ink by the barrel and let his pen freely slip the leash of conscience. Most, however, shouldered up to the trough. The previous winter, Amos Kendall took special delight in conveying Kentucky's Electoral College vote to Washington, and he soon met with Jackson to emerge from the interview as the new fourth auditor of the Treasury with an annual salary of $3,000, double what he had unsuccessfully tried to pry from Clay. In this bidding war, Andrew Jackson knew the value of a man who bought ink by the barrel and let his pen freely slip the leash of conscience.19 The Jacksonian axe also fell closer to home. John Speed Smith replaced Clay's friend Crittenden as district attorney for the District of Kentucky, and John M. McCalla was in as the state's marshal.20 McCalla, at least, would soon be sorry for crossing Henry Clay. McCalla, at least, would soon be sorry for crossing Henry Clay.

Clay had not planned to resume his legal practice, but after his return to Kentucky, circumstances compelled him to participate in a notorious case that also gave him an opportunity to spear his Bluegrass political opponents. Thomas R. Benning, the young editor of the Lexington Gazette, Gazette, was a pro-Jackson populist who opposed Robert Wickliffe's candidacy for the Kentucky legislature and during the 1828 campaign published anonymous attacks on him. Benning did not write them. Instead, Wickliffe's opponent McCalla did, under the pen name of "Dentatus." Wickliffe wisely chose to ignore the insults, but his son Charles found them so offensive that he demanded the name of their author. On March 9, Benning was in his was a pro-Jackson populist who opposed Robert Wickliffe's candidacy for the Kentucky legislature and during the 1828 campaign published anonymous attacks on him. Benning did not write them. Instead, Wickliffe's opponent McCalla did, under the pen name of "Dentatus." Wickliffe wisely chose to ignore the insults, but his son Charles found them so offensive that he demanded the name of their author. On March 9, Benning was in his Gazette Gazette office when the angry young man confronted him. Charles Wickliffe claimed that Benning menaced him with a walking stick, causing Charles to pull his pistol and fatally wound the editor. A grand jury concluded that evidence merited a reduced charge of manslaughter, but Kentucky's Jacksonians thought it should have been murder. That sentiment as well as the political overtones surrounding the case made it most likely that a jury would convict Wickliffe. The elder Wickliffe entreated his friend and neighbor Henry Clay to join a defense team that included John J. Crittenden and Richard H. Chinn. office when the angry young man confronted him. Charles Wickliffe claimed that Benning menaced him with a walking stick, causing Charles to pull his pistol and fatally wound the editor. A grand jury concluded that evidence merited a reduced charge of manslaughter, but Kentucky's Jacksonians thought it should have been murder. That sentiment as well as the political overtones surrounding the case made it most likely that a jury would convict Wickliffe. The elder Wickliffe entreated his friend and neighbor Henry Clay to join a defense team that included John J. Crittenden and Richard H. Chinn.21 Clay's participation was slight until the trial's end, when he characteristically relied on emotional appeals to sway the jury, and his treatment of McCalla provided the trial's most dramatic moment. McCalla had reluctantly admitted during the proceeding that he had written the offending articles, and accounts of the slaying described him as lurking at its edges. Clay was determined to paint him as the real villain of the piece, the instigator who had done the insulting while skulking behind a Roman pseudonym. "Who is this redoubtable 'Dentatus' 'Dentatus'?" he asked as he surveyed the courtroom. He posed the question again, quizzically gazing at the jury as though truly perplexed, his voice dramatically pitched as though sincerely reflective. He mused that the way the unfortunate Benning had reacted when Wickliffe asked him that question the day of the shooting suggested that Dentatus was "a Hercules in prowess, and a Caesar in valor." Clay whirled and asked yet again, "Who is 'Dentatus' 'Dentatus'?" Standing now directly before the jury, Clay seemed to shrink by pulling his arms close to his body, hunching his shoulders around his neck, and bending his knees to diminish his height; he raised his baritone several octaves: "Why, gentlemen, it is nobody but little Johnny M'Calla! it is nobody but little Johnny M'Calla!" The judge's gavel repeatedly rapped amid the din of laughter and surprised chatter, and everyone soon noticed that McCalla had slunk silently from the courtroom during Clay's performance. McCalla never forgave him. Clay did not care. On June 13, the jury deliberated all of seven minutes before returning the verdict of not guilty.22 WHEN ANDREW JACKSON took the oath of office in 1829, some believed the gaunt old man would not live to complete his first term, and most doubted he would seek a second. Clay's supporters urged him to enter the contest for 1832 early to steal a march on any Democratic opponent. The Jacksonians meant "to assail and destroy You in every way in their power-This object is never lost for a moment," a friend wrote to Clay, a sign that of all possible candidates, Jacksonians feared him most. Clay had already planned a winter trip to New Orleans to visit the Erwins, and that was certainly a prime purpose for the visit; but he could also use his time in Louisiana to mend political fences and make new friends. took the oath of office in 1829, some believed the gaunt old man would not live to complete his first term, and most doubted he would seek a second. Clay's supporters urged him to enter the contest for 1832 early to steal a march on any Democratic opponent. The Jacksonians meant "to assail and destroy You in every way in their power-This object is never lost for a moment," a friend wrote to Clay, a sign that of all possible candidates, Jacksonians feared him most. Clay had already planned a winter trip to New Orleans to visit the Erwins, and that was certainly a prime purpose for the visit; but he could also use his time in Louisiana to mend political fences and make new friends.23 In fact, Clay's January 1830 New Orleans trip signaled the start of his 1832 presidential campaign. In addition to stumping for Andre Roman and Josiah Johnston, Clay consulted about how best to oppose Jackson's policies and extol the American System, a strategy that filled the next two years of his supposed retirement from public life. Clay was not alone in looking toward 1832. Other candidates also organized their followers, formed alliances, and undermined opponents. Everyone anxiously measured the moods of the old man in the White House, who was apparently pondering his plans as much as observers were, among them his vice president, John C. Calhoun.24 He too hoped to succeed Old Hickory, but Calhoun's place in the administration required that he be exceedingly careful not to show too much ambition. He had rivals in Jackson's official family and among his unofficial advisers, the group critics dubbed the "Kitchen Cabinet." The most dangerous was Secretary of State Martin Van Buren, who had Jackson's ear because he was willing to flatter and fawn, poses Calhoun found repellent. During Jackson's first year as president, his relations with Calhoun soured as they clashed over Mrs. Eaton's social status. Some speculated that Calhoun's own sinking fortunes would drive him into the arms of administration opponents, a prospect that caused Van Buren to beam. He too hoped to succeed Old Hickory, but Calhoun's place in the administration required that he be exceedingly careful not to show too much ambition. He had rivals in Jackson's official family and among his unofficial advisers, the group critics dubbed the "Kitchen Cabinet." The most dangerous was Secretary of State Martin Van Buren, who had Jackson's ear because he was willing to flatter and fawn, poses Calhoun found repellent. During Jackson's first year as president, his relations with Calhoun soured as they clashed over Mrs. Eaton's social status. Some speculated that Calhoun's own sinking fortunes would drive him into the arms of administration opponents, a prospect that caused Van Buren to beam.25 During these months, William H. Crawford's unexpected reemergence on the political scene was a surprise. He was still in very bad health, but his friends saw him as a good southern alternative to Calhoun, whose ties to southern extremism increasingly and unattractively defined him. Crawford was game but hardly able. Returning to Congress meant the world would hear his thick tongue and see his faltering step and palsied hands. Even Jackson, in comparison, would look nimble. Crawford consequently sought the presidency from the shadows, first by proposing an incredible scheme to Henry Clay. If Jackson did not run, he said, Van Buren and Calhoun were sure to, and a field that also included himself and Clay would splinter the Electoral College to prevent a majority. Crawford suggested that Clay drop out and throw his support to Crawford, who pledged a payoff in victory. He would not only put Clay in the cabinet but also formally designate him as his successor. Crawford's letter "indicates some want of self possession," Clay told Frank Brooke, and as he read and reread it in Ashland's shaded study, he became pensive and sad. His friends worried about all comers and wanted to use the letter to discredit Crawford once and for all, but Clay told them to forget the entire matter. He admitted that his old friendship with Crawford, though buffeted by events, yet haunted him. Clay folded closed the letter with the implausible plan and scratched on it, "Never answered."26 Crawford explored another tactic to wreck another rival with a scheme just as mischievous; indeed, it bordered on malice. That spring he informed Jackson that in 1818 Calhoun had recommended Jackson's censure and punishment for disobeying orders in Florida. Although Calhoun's sentiments about Jackson's invasion had been noised about for years, Crawford's revealing the particulars of cabinet discussions was an extraordinary breach of trust. Clay had charitably judged Crawford as having lost his way, but this act of treachery toward James Monroe and his former colleagues, particularly John C. Calhoun, confirmed something darker. Because of rampant rumors, Jackson had suspected something like what Crawford was now telling him, but Old Hickory nevertheless feigned outrage. By now, he and Calhoun were completely estranged, and Jackson cited the Crawford leak as an additional reason to ruin his vice president. Calhoun was in the process of learning what it was like to be Henry Clay.

Calhoun despised Crawford for a sneaky informer, but he blamed Van Buren for making the wretched invalid a cat's-paw in a plot to turn Jackson against him. Calhoun simmered and finally steered a course completely at variance with his customary caution. In early 1831, he published a pamphlet of his correspondence with Jackson and included documents to show the truth of the matter and defend himself against charges of disloyalty. Clay had done much the same thing three years earlier to refute the Corrupt Bargain charges. Clay could have told Calhoun not to waste his time.27 THE CRAGGY-FACED man from South Carolina had been destined for greatness but was beginning to retreat into truculence, and for reasons that had more to do with Henry Clay than Andrew Jackson. Calhoun's philosophy of government had undergone a dramatic transformation in the years after the War of 1812. As a nationalist War Hawk, he had matched Clay's enthusiasm for protective tariffs, internal improvements, and a national bank. His alliance with Jacksonians in the 1820s abruptly forced him to oppose all such policies, in part because Henry Clay and John Quincy Adams promoted them. Yet there was more to it than that. South Carolina's growing opposition to the American System also tugged Calhoun away from nationalism. He especially denounced the protective tariff because like many southerners he believed it favored the North's manufacturing economy at the expense of the agricultural South. The nationalists' attempt to grow and consolidate power in the federal government genuinely alarmed Calhoun, and he branded the tariff as another unconstitutional manifestation of those efforts. man from South Carolina had been destined for greatness but was beginning to retreat into truculence, and for reasons that had more to do with Henry Clay than Andrew Jackson. Calhoun's philosophy of government had undergone a dramatic transformation in the years after the War of 1812. As a nationalist War Hawk, he had matched Clay's enthusiasm for protective tariffs, internal improvements, and a national bank. His alliance with Jacksonians in the 1820s abruptly forced him to oppose all such policies, in part because Henry Clay and John Quincy Adams promoted them. Yet there was more to it than that. South Carolina's growing opposition to the American System also tugged Calhoun away from nationalism. He especially denounced the protective tariff because like many southerners he believed it favored the North's manufacturing economy at the expense of the agricultural South. The nationalists' attempt to grow and consolidate power in the federal government genuinely alarmed Calhoun, and he branded the tariff as another unconstitutional manifestation of those efforts.28 That sort of attitude could make a man a hero at home but a political outsider everywhere else. Calhoun knew this as he eyed the presidency, weighed Van Buren's plots, and secretly caviled at Clay's protectionism. In fact, he had already cast his lot with sectionalists. He had just not yet admitted it. In 1828, his complaints jelled in his anonymous composition, The South Carolina Exposition and Protest. The South Carolina Exposition and Protest. The pamphlet essentially outlined a way to block national initiatives with state interposition or nullification. Calhoun built on the work of Jefferson and Madison in their Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions of 179899 by adding his own views on the nature of the Union. Because the states had been sovereign before they ratified the Constitution, the reasoning went, their individual sovereignty took precedence over the country they formed. In fact, Calhoun did not recognize the United States as a nation at all but rather saw it as a compact of states, each with the power to judge the constitutionality of federal laws. A state had the right to nullify a federal law it deemed unconstitutional by refusing to enforce it. In response, the federal government could amend the Constitution, after which the state had the option of submitting to the nation's judgment or withdrawing from the Union. The pamphlet essentially outlined a way to block national initiatives with state interposition or nullification. Calhoun built on the work of Jefferson and Madison in their Virginia and Kentucky Resolutions of 179899 by adding his own views on the nature of the Union. Because the states had been sovereign before they ratified the Constitution, the reasoning went, their individual sovereignty took precedence over the country they formed. In fact, Calhoun did not recognize the United States as a nation at all but rather saw it as a compact of states, each with the power to judge the constitutionality of federal laws. A state had the right to nullify a federal law it deemed unconstitutional by refusing to enforce it. In response, the federal government could amend the Constitution, after which the state had the option of submitting to the nation's judgment or withdrawing from the Union.29 In January 1830, the country saw an attempt to make nullification a viable doctrine rather than a regional eccentricity. Western senators furiously protested northeastern efforts to restrict land sales, and South Carolinian Robert Y. Hayne pointed out how the "Tariff of Abominations" had similarly victimized the South to benefit the Northeast. He suggested nullification as a way to protect minority interests in both the West and the South. The majestic Daniel Webster ("the Godlike Dan'l" was among his nicknames) was appalled, and his reply to Hayne commenced a nine-day debate that ranks as one of the most famous exchanges in American political history. Webster came closest to matching Henry Clay in oratorical ability, and more than a few said he exceeded him, but the two were different kinds of speakers, each peerless as a type. Webster was physically imposing, a big man with a prominent brow, piercing black eyes to match his hair ("Black Dan" was another moniker), and a voice that could make water shiver in tumblers. He now aimed that voice like artillery at nullification, which, he thundered, would destroy the Union. To allow each of the twenty-four states to obey or reject federal laws as it pleased would reduce the Union to "a rope of sand." Hayne often gave as good as he got in these exchanges, but the Godlike Dan'l in the end was spectacular, his concluding statement bringing men to their feet and providing generations of American schoolchildren with words to recite from memory: "Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable!"30 Tying nullification to disunion was a masterful stroke. Calhoun's growing isolation in the administration gave him reasons beyond ideology to fall in line with South Carolina's radicals, but it was a move sure to widen an already yawning breach with Jackson. Old Hickory did not comment on the Webster-Hayne debate, but nobody would be allowed to challenge the government and imperil the Union on his watch. By April, Van Buren had told him that Calhoun was the anonymous author of the Exposition and Protest. Exposition and Protest. At that month's Jefferson Birthday Dinner, angry toasts flew between them, Jackson snarling "Our Federal Union-it must be preserved!" and Calhoun responding "The Union: next to our liberty, most dear!" Their break complete, Jackson summoned Francis Preston Blair from Kentucky to establish the Washington At that month's Jefferson Birthday Dinner, angry toasts flew between them, Jackson snarling "Our Federal Union-it must be preserved!" and Calhoun responding "The Union: next to our liberty, most dear!" Their break complete, Jackson summoned Francis Preston Blair from Kentucky to establish the Washington Globe. Globe. It immediately replaced Duff Green's It immediately replaced Duff Green's United States Telegraph United States Telegraph as the administration's official newspaper. as the administration's official newspaper.31 In Kentucky, Clay watched these developments with considerable interest. Like Webster, whom Clay congratulated for his masterful defense of the Union, he thought nullification preposterous. He echoed the New Englander's nationalism: "If a minority could at any time rise up, on any subject and in any part of the Union, and by threats of its dissolution control the majority, that Union would not be worth preserving."32 Clay found Nullifiers more nonsensical than disturbing, a noisy few trying to bully the nation into meeting their demands, but as their bluster became rash and their actions reckless, he grew concerned. The obvious assault on the protective principle, one of the three mainstays of the American System, signaled trouble, but Clay also concluded that the very concept of nullification threatened to raise serious political storms. Nullification would lead "to immediate disorder and disunion," a result that should "fill every patriot bosom with the most awful apprehensions." Clay found Nullifiers more nonsensical than disturbing, a noisy few trying to bully the nation into meeting their demands, but as their bluster became rash and their actions reckless, he grew concerned. The obvious assault on the protective principle, one of the three mainstays of the American System, signaled trouble, but Clay also concluded that the very concept of nullification threatened to raise serious political storms. Nullification would lead "to immediate disorder and disunion," a result that should "fill every patriot bosom with the most awful apprehensions."33 Although Calhoun's coming untethered nationally provided an opportunity for Clay's faction to court him, Clay warned against the fallacy of judging the enemy of your enemy to be your friend. Already in 1831, the odor of disunion, though faint, was clinging to John C. Calhoun. Clay could not stomach it. Although Calhoun's coming untethered nationally provided an opportunity for Clay's faction to court him, Clay warned against the fallacy of judging the enemy of your enemy to be your friend. Already in 1831, the odor of disunion, though faint, was clinging to John C. Calhoun. Clay could not stomach it.34 CLAY INTENDED TO present to the American people a positive program of economic growth and general prosperity. He remained convinced that his American System would best tie the country together economically by making the sections interdependent for their individual welfare as well as the common good. The American System could eventually lower prices for manufactured goods, provide a stable currency and reasonable credit for economic growth, and promote thriving commerce along modern roads and canals. It would make rivers and harbors navigable with innovative engineering techniques and systematic dredging. Economic interdependence would make disunion not only unlikely but unthinkable. present to the American people a positive program of economic growth and general prosperity. He remained convinced that his American System would best tie the country together economically by making the sections interdependent for their individual welfare as well as the common good. The American System could eventually lower prices for manufactured goods, provide a stable currency and reasonable credit for economic growth, and promote thriving commerce along modern roads and canals. It would make rivers and harbors navigable with innovative engineering techniques and systematic dredging. Economic interdependence would make disunion not only unlikely but unthinkable.

He reluctantly agreed that taking this message to the people required him to alter his campaign methods to fit changing political times. The early Republic considered courting votes vulgar and frowned on electioneering, which replaced calm deliberation with "the worst passions." Political practices in the 1820s rapidly changed that attitude, in large part because many states were allowing more people to vote. Clay found it necessary to mingle with more people. He attended barbecues and began embellishing his modest upbringing as exceedingly humble, a practice rapidly emerging as obligatory and one that eventually created the myth of Clay as "the Millboy of the Slashes." He never completely mastered this new political trade, because he remained uncomfortable plying it. Until the end of his days, he avoided the appearance of his travels as politically motivated, instead always insisting that personal or financial reasons required trips, during which he just happened to make speeches.35 More than just distaste for cheap theatrics or discomfort over exaggerating his experiences as a youth restrained him. The demands of the new politics transformed Henry Clay into a truly strange amalgam. On the one hand, he exemplified the political past because of his preference for the staid traditions of Madison and Monroe's time. Yet he also foreshadowed the future by extolling the virtue of planned progress, the idea that the government was not only empowered but obligated to perform economic functions that individuals could not or that private corporations would not.

This strange combination of past and future made him curiously out of place in his time, the Jacksonian period of the early nineteenth century that invoked the People as a mystical entity and insisted that the unbuilt road and the silted-up harbor did not hurt commerce. Clay steered a middle course that made him seem a basket of contradictions. The Progressive movement of the late nineteenth century that promoted moral uplift and active government would seem to be his legacy. Yet Clay opposed coerced morality and recoiled from regulating private economic behavior. A moderate on many issues, Clay was doctrinaire on certain matters, such as the inviolability of the Union and the role of economic progress in preserving it. Dubbed the Great Compromiser, he was not naturally prone to compromise, and instead became, as one perceptive historian has said, "an ideologue of the Center."36 Clay's entry into the 1832 presidential sweepstakes became increasingly purposeful because the administration began attacking the American System, or at least parts of it. Jackson, in fact, usually treated internal improvements as political plums and consequently signed more bills to fund them than any one of his predecessors. Yet in May 1830, he suddenly announced a constitutional objection to the Maysville Road and vetoed the bill funding it. The Maysville Road was really an extension of the National Road through Kentucky to the Natchez Trace, a project that would have facilitated travel between the Ohio and Tennessee rivers. Despite the obviously national aspect of the Maysville Road, its length fell entirely in Kentucky, and Jackson described it as a purely local venture that benefited only one state at the expense of the others.

Some laud Jackson's Maysville Road veto as a courageous state paper, but it was actually an expedient political gesture. Posing as the nation's protector, Jackson walloped Henry Clay by injuring Kentucky. Secretary of State Martin Van Buren used it to soothe southern states' rights men anxious about growing federal power that could threaten slavery while satisfying flinty northeasterners who had financed many of their own internal improvements and objected to paying for those in other states. Jackson ran a relatively low risk of permanently alienating westerners with the veto, and he gained allies elsewhere. He was able, for instance, to erode southern support for South Carolina Nullifiers.37 The Maysville Road veto infuriated Henry Clay, of course, but it also angered other Kentuckians, who sensed that Jackson was singling them out for punishment. It also exasperated Kentucky's neighbors, who would have profited from an increase in commercial traffic. Clay suggested that Congress draft a constitutional amendment to allow simple majorities to override vetoes, a recurring idea for him that perfectly expressed his belief in legislative supremacy. Jackson's popularity made the plan impractical, however. Indeed, Jackson's popularity seemed to sweep all before it; but he was also careful not to take chances. It was apparent that he had carefully timed his Maysville veto to avoid antagonizing congressmen he needed to pass one of the major initiatives of his first term, Indian removal. He waited until that had narrowly passed, and not until the following day did he issue his Maysville veto.38 Like most westerners, Clay had never been a champion of Indian rights, and privately he expressed doubts that Indians could assimilate into or peacefully coexist with white culture. At first, then, his dissent from Jackson's Indian removal policy appeared more opportunistic than sincere, a gesture to exploit the Indian Removal Act's unpopularity in the Northeast. Yet in the years that followed, as dubious treaties filled with counterfeit pledges uprooted entire tribes in the Southeast, he changed. The government's promise to the Indians of protected and provisioned passage to new homes in the Arkansas or Indian territories west of the Mississippi proved empty as hunger, illness, and weather plagued their journeys. Countless Indians perished, most infamously on "the Trail of Tears," and many Americans watched the unfolding horrors with growing dismay. Clay was among them. From the letters of clergymen and humanitarians, Clay followed the plight of displaced Indians and denounced from heartfelt conviction the administration's behavior as dishonest and inhumane. When Clay returned to the Senate, he met with Indian leaders to advise them about avoiding this calamity to their people. Indian removal came to disgust him as it did other National Republicans, and their revulsion informed the stand of the new political party Clay founded in the 1830s. The barbarity of Jackson's policy in its implementation was impossible for him to countenance, and what had begun as a political opportunity to oppose Andrew Jackson became for him another compelling reason to unseat Jacksonians.39 SEVERAL EVENTS IN early 1831 convinced the Clay faithful that it was time for him to end his so-called retirement in a formal way and return to the national stage. First, the administration put to rest all doubt regarding a second term, ruling out other Democrat contenders. With only two candidates in the running, Clay's supporters reckoned he stood a better chance. Clay's victory, chortled one, would likely kill Jackson, or at least irritate Old Hickory's famous and chronic digestive problems. "His diarrhea will be brought on," went the joke. early 1831 convinced the Clay faithful that it was time for him to end his so-called retirement in a formal way and return to the national stage. First, the administration put to rest all doubt regarding a second term, ruling out other Democrat contenders. With only two candidates in the running, Clay's supporters reckoned he stood a better chance. Clay's victory, chortled one, would likely kill Jackson, or at least irritate Old Hickory's famous and chronic digestive problems. "His diarrhea will be brought on," went the joke.40 Another event that gave Clay supporters hope was the disintegration of Jackson's cabinet in the spring of 1831. The turmoil over Margaret Eaton had not abated, but it had boosted the fortunes of widower Martin Van Buren, the only man in the cabinet who could offer Mrs. Eaton his arm and not worry about an ugly scene later at home. Jackson consequently judged Van Buren the only gentleman among a cadre of cads and was willing to embrace Van Buren's solution to the crisis. He and Eaton would resign their posts and put pressure on the rest of the cabinet members to follow suit. The plan appears more plausible from a modern perspective than it did at the time, because the idea of the cabinet as completely subservient to the will of the president was hardly a fixed principle in the 1830s. Instead, many saw the cabinet as a relatively autonomous arm of the executive, something akin to a privy council whose collective wisdom helped frame executive responses to legislative policies. The other secretaries did not eagerly prepare to jump Jackson's ship simply because he, let alone Martin Van Buren, wanted them to. It took a few heated scenes that created considerable and lingering animosity, but the other secretaries were ultimately persuaded to resign.

Cleaning out the cabinet to get rid of John Eaton and to punish those who had snubbed John Eaton's wife caused a stir in Washington. As Jackson's official family was being browbeaten to resign, National Republicans hoped the overbearing executive behavior would brand Jackson as an incipient tyrant and the resulting chaos would convince voters of his incompetence.41 Thus did the opposition try to attach deeper meaning to an otherwise shallow series of events that had oddly preoccupied the executive branch of the United States government for two years. As the Eatons left Washington for Tennessee, Clay kept his perspective. Parodying Domitius Enobarbus's tribute to Cleopatra in Shakespeare's Thus did the opposition try to attach deeper meaning to an otherwise shallow series of events that had oddly preoccupied the executive branch of the United States government for two years. As the Eatons left Washington for Tennessee, Clay kept his perspective. Parodying Domitius Enobarbus's tribute to Cleopatra in Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, Antony and Cleopatra, he said of Margaret that "age cannot wither nor time stale her infinite virginity." he said of Margaret that "age cannot wither nor time stale her infinite virginity."42 As they chuckled over Democrat contretemps, National Republicans were verging on a schism of their own. A new political party emerging in their traditional strongholds threatened to take voters away from Clay's candidacy. Antimasonry had first appeared in Upstate New York and then spread south to the Mid-Atlantic and north into New England. It condemned the secretive Masonic Order as an elite league that dominated local, state, and national politics at the expense of outsiders. In 1826 William Morgan, a disaffected Mason in New York, had threatened to publish the order's secret rites. Morgan was abducted and efforts to find him and his kidnappers were fruitless, apparently because Masons interfered with the investigation. Morgan never turned up, but a badly decomposed and unidentifiable body found months later confirmed for many the wickedness of the Masons. The Morgan affair transformed what had been a social reaction against special privilege into a full-fledged political movement.43 This new party stood to cause Clay considerable trouble. An Antimasonic candidate would poach more National Republican than Democrat voters, but the fact that Clay himself was a Mason spelled problems. His association with the order likely resulted from his efforts to gain status after first arriving in Lexington, and he had been active into the early 1820s, holding important positions in the Grand Lodge of Kentucky. By the late 1820s, however, he was too busy to remain an active Mason, aside from being aware of the political damage it could cause.44 Clay at first underestimated the fervor of the Antimasons and took false comfort in the fact that Andrew Jackson was also a Mason. All else being equal, Clay expected that the candidate best promoting their economic interests would claim the Antimasons' votes. Clay gradually became worried, however, that Antimason rabble-rousers were stirring up the masses for selfish political purposes, and in the summer of 1831 he finally realized the threat Antimasonry posed to his candidacy. Still refusing to disavow the Masonic order, he remained baffled over what pertinence any of this had for politics.45 In September 1831, the Antimasons held a national nominating convention in Baltimore. Although of a regional character, the convention was historic in the sense that it was the first to choose a presidential candidate. Delegates considered a panoply of prominent political figures, including former president John Quincy Adams, a choice that would have understandably astonished Clay. The convention flabbergasted him just as thoroughly, though, when it nominated his old friend and fellow National Republican, William Wirt, who inexplicably accepted. Although Wirt opposed Jackson's policies just as strongly as did Clay, friends had convinced him that Clay could not defeat Jackson. Perhaps Wirt could, they mused, by seeking fusion with National Republicans. The hope that boosting Wirt to prominence would persuade National Republicans to pick him at their December convention indicated the foolish reveries of the Antimasons. The Antimasons could never be anything but spoilers in a political fight, and Wirt's sad role was made sadder by the likelihood that he was not emotionally stable at the time. Earlier that year, his sixteen-year-old daughter Agnes had died suddenly, and Wirt remained consumed by grief. As for the 1832 election, numerous attempts to join National Republicans and Antimasons failed, but a dispassionate assessment would have informed the rankest political amateur that Wirt could never defeat Jackson. On the other hand, dividing National Republicans dashed any hope of victory at all.46 The Wirt candidacy shook Clay to the point of prompting him to consider withdrawing and allowing the party to nominate someone else. He was hardly a rank amateur, but he claimed he was unable to gauge his own chances for victory, and he asked for friends' advice. Those friends read between the lines to discern that he was really asking for their support, and their encouragement was quick and heartfelt. Instead of quitting, they said, Clay should return to public life to become more nationally noticeable.47 They suggested a return to the Senate, but Clay was reluctant. They suggested a return to the Senate, but Clay was reluctant.

He was reluctant in part because he was greatly preoccupied in the summer and fall of 1831 with something other than politics. Theodore had fallen into serious trouble. As a boy, this oldest son could be fearfully unpredictable and prone to violent tantrums, some of them menacing. The family blamed the head injury Theodore had suffered as a child, a conclusion that possibly had merit. That Amos Kendall had had to snatch away a knife Theodore was brandishing at a slave indicated something far more serious than a spoiled, high-strung child, and shadowy, oblique references to similar outbursts over the years point to an ongoing problem that the Clay family coped with rather than addressed. Clay always hoped that the boy would grow out of his short-tempered ways, but mostly he just wanted Theodore to grow up. He brought Theodore to Washington in 1824 "in the hope of reforming him of his indolence and dissipation" but soon had to send him home when Theodore began sneaking off to drink and gamble, once losing $500 he could never hope to pay. Thomas drank excessively and gambled too, but he remained relatively jovial while doing the one and was usually penitent about the other. Thomas got drunk, but Theodore could get ugly. His behavior and moods embarrassed his father. "This is a delicate and painful subject," Clay conceded in 1828, "which parents will know how to appreciate."48 During Theodore's periods of calm and stability, which could be lengthy and encouraging, Clay hoped for the best. Just as Theodore could be angry and brooding, when in good humor he could be witty and charming, clever with a phrase, quick to laugh, tenderly sympathetic, impossible not to love.49 During these good times, Clay entrusted Theodore with important tasks, almost as rewards for correct behavior. The young man explored his father's extensive land holdings on the Kentucky River, traipsing through ten thousand acres of wilderness before returning to Ashland with a healthful tan and a sense of achievement. Though Clay prudently hired managers to run Ashland while he was away, he always asked Theodore to keep an eye on the place. Clay employed Theodore as a State Department courier to take messages to Joel Poinsett in Mexico and to the commissioners at the Panama Congress at Tacubaya. He was hopeful when Theodore showed an interest in the law, and when the young man proved a quick study, Clay was relieved that at last his son might have found his way. During these good times, Clay entrusted Theodore with important tasks, almost as rewards for correct behavior. The young man explored his father's extensive land holdings on the Kentucky River, traipsing through ten thousand acres of wilderness before returning to Ashland with a healthful tan and a sense of achievement. Though Clay prudently hired managers to run Ashland while he was away, he always asked Theodore to keep an eye on the place. Clay employed Theodore as a State Department courier to take messages to Joel Poinsett in Mexico and to the commissioners at the Panama Congress at Tacubaya. He was hopeful when Theodore showed an interest in the law, and when the young man proved a quick study, Clay was relieved that at last his son might have found his way.50 Theodore, however, either lost interest in a legal career or lacked the mental focus to run a practice. In 1830, something more alarming than usual began happening to his mind. He left Kentucky that summer and by early September was in St. Louis. The reason for his trip is unclear, but it seems to have been an argument with Anne. He referred to disagreements with her that he hoped neither she nor James Erwin would hold against him. Possibly Anne had tried to give Theodore a talking-to about nearing thirty with no purpose in life. Her brother had visited New Orleans, apparently in search of opportunities, but disdained all that Erwin sent his way. Theodore's trip to Missouri had the appearance for a time of being a permanent move. He liked St. Louis, he told his mother, and "should I remain here, I perceive a tolerable chance of getting through my journey of life with pleasure."51 He soon returned to Kentucky, though, for he had fallen in love with a daughter of the prominent Brand family in Lexington. She did not love Theodore, and his disappointment unhinged him. He became delusional, explaining to himself that her family's disapproval, not the girl's indifference, was responsible for her rejecting him. In the fall of 1831, just as his father was considering his return to the Senate, Theodore charged into the girl's home and held the Brand family at gunpoint. After defusing that dangerous situation, the Brands promptly swore out a complaint. The court summoned a jury, which heard witnesses regarding Theodore's sanity, for the Brand family graciously asserted that his menacing behavior was the impetuous act of a helpless man. It was unfortunately by then the kindest explanation for Theodore's erratic actions, and the Clays cooperated with rather than resisted the sad drama playing out in the Fayette County courthouse that October. Henry Clay and James Erwin testified before a jury of prominent citizens that included Clay's oldest friends, Richard Chinn, Leslie Combs, Robert Wickliffe, and John Postlethwaite among them. They pronounced Theodore insane-a "lunatic" in the legal parlance of the day-and the court committed him to the Eastern Kentucky Insane Asylum.52 Thus Henry Clay's oldest son passed into the land of shadows. To the end of their days, Henry and Lucretia hoped Theodore's condition was temporary, and at first they had promising signs of recovery, even to an extent that allowed him brief visits to Ashland. The periods of lucidity were all the more heartbreaking, though, for their increasing brevity. The possibility that the next incident when Theodore was irrational and armed would end tragically compelled Henry and Lucretia to harden their hearts and stop their ears to Theodore's frequent entreaties for release from the asylum, to ignore his unrealistic plans for starting over somewhere else. Days faded into months and months into years, and the pleas gradually lessened until they ceased altogether as Theodore slipped away. When he had been in St. Louis in the summer of 1830 he had told his mother, "I am charmed with this place, and I sincerely hope that I am not throwing away my time."53 Now Theodore had nothing but time, and his plans and dreams were a knife in Lucretia's heart, another wound as she thought about her boy confined just miles from Ashland but drifting away from her. Eventually he did not recognize any of them, but his days stretched across the decades beyond the passing of his parents and all his siblings save two. Only Thomas, the brotherly playmate of his childhood, and baby brother John remained to bury Theodore Wythe Clay in 1870. Now Theodore had nothing but time, and his plans and dreams were a knife in Lucretia's heart, another wound as she thought about her boy confined just miles from Ashland but drifting away from her. Eventually he did not recognize any of them, but his days stretched across the decades beyond the passing of his parents and all his siblings save two. Only Thomas, the brotherly playmate of his childhood, and baby brother John remained to bury Theodore Wythe Clay in 1870.

CLAY'S BID TO regain national prominence was best served by succeeding John Rowan in the U.S. Senate. The state legislature had tried to fill the vacancy in the winter of 183031, but no candidate could secure a majority. Clay's friend John J. Crittenden came closest, but he was a member of the legislature and would have had to vote for himself to win, which he refused to do. The legislature postponed another vote until late in the summer of 1831, hoping that by then state elections would clarify matters. In those contests, Clay's supporters won a clear majority, and Crittenden was persuaded to step aside. Clay remained reluctant but consented to serve. He defeated Richard M. Johnson, the Jacksonian candidate, 73 to 64. After almost three years, Henry and Lucretia were to go back to Washington. All the children were either grown or in school, and the Clays took with them only their little grandson Henry Clay Duralde. regain national prominence was best served by succeeding John Rowan in the U.S. Senate. The state legislature had tried to fill the vacancy in the winter of 183031, but no candidate could secure a majority. Clay's friend John J. Crittenden came closest, but he was a member of the legislature and would have had to vote for himself to win, which he refused to do. The legislature postponed another vote until late in the summer of 1831, hoping that by then state elections would clarify matters. In those contests, Clay's supporters won a clear majority, and Crittenden was persuaded to step aside. Clay remained reluctant but consented to serve. He defeated Richard M. Johnson, the Jacksonian candidate, 73 to 64. After almost three years, Henry and Lucretia were to go back to Washington. All the children were either grown or in school, and the Clays took with them only their little grandson Henry Clay Duralde.54 What everybody would most remember about that winter in the capital was the cold. The ice on the Potomac was three inches thick and stopped all steamboat traffic. Lucretia was miserable. Margaret Smith greeted her affectionately, but Lucretia missed her children, was distraught about Theodore, and was often physically ill. She and Henry Duralde shivered away their days in a small rented house, where their chief amusement consisted of his English lessons. Soon she wished she had not come to Washington at all, as she hungered for news from home. Some of it was mercifully cheerful.

Henry Jr. managed the farm at Ashland when he was not heading up to Louisville to visit pretty seventeen-year-old Julia Prather. They were well suited, her good cheer a nice counterweight to his subdued nature. By the summer of 1832, Henry was deeply in love. Julia was too, seeing in the quiet, serious suitor something grand. On October 10, they married, making Henry the first of the sons to wed.55 Lucretia was unhappy in Washington, but the return to the capital placed her husband "in his very element,-in the very vortex of political warfare."56 Meanwhile, the National Republican convention in Baltimore placed him again in contention for the presidency. Speculation stemming from Antimasons about another candidate came to nothing, and delegates in Baltimore never seriously considered Wirt. Consequently, Clay's was the only name before the convention, and its decision surprised no one. The convention named Pennsylvanian John Sergeant to be Clay's running mate and issued a statement of purpose, the forerunner of the modern party platform, which condemned Jackson's veto of the Maysville Road, his use of government patronage, and his criticism of the Bank of the United States. Meanwhile, the National Republican convention in Baltimore placed him again in contention for the presidency. Speculation stemming from Antimasons about another candidate came to nothing, and delegates in Baltimore never seriously considered Wirt. Consequently, Clay's was the only name before the convention, and its decision surprised no one. The convention named Pennsylvanian John Sergeant to be Clay's running mate and issued a statement of purpose, the forerunner of the modern party platform, which condemned Jackson's veto of the Maysville Road, his use of government patronage, and his criticism of the Bank of the United States.57 Although political parties were still in their infancy, Clay's nomination placed him at the head of those styling themselves National Republicans. He intended to lead the opposition to the administration when he entered the Senate, but his expectations about party discipline were unrealistic. Despite Jackson's setbacks with the cabinet, he remained a political colossus. Clay found the National Republicans to be fractious as well as cautious about crossing an enormously popular president. Those congressional attitudes made realizing his policies to promote economic growth all the more difficult, and, worse, it revealed a remarkable erosion of the principle of legislative supremacy. Clay was astonished at how far "King Andrew" had extended executive power, but he was equally uneasy about the apparent awe this president caused in Congress. Clay intended to do something about that.58 Many dismissed Henry Clay's challenge of Andrew Jackson as a mere clash of egos, but behind the fireworks was Clay's principal purpose of reestablishing Congress as the "first wheel of government." His arrival in Washington in 1831 presented Andrew Jackson with a foe unlike any he had ever encountered, for the decorous rules of the State Department no longer hamstrung Senator Clay. Unlike the professorial Calhoun, Clay was agile in debate, dexterous in controversy, and extremely quick in impromptu exchanges. Jackson's supporters, who had been having their way fairly unimpeded for three years, quickly learned to tread lightly around Henry Clay. There were "hundreds, perhaps thousands, of men in the United States, who exceed Henry Clay, in information on all subjects," said a friend, "but his superiority consists in the power and adroitness with which he brings his information to bear."59 It was not enough to repeat the old saw that when Clay spoke, people listened, for Clay rising from his desk in the Senate was comparable to the curtain going up in a first-rate theater. He used props for stage business, such as the little silver snuffbox that he absentmindedly rolled from one hand to the other, creating a near hypnotic spell while he spoke. He pulled his snow-white handkerchief from his coat with a flourish and polished his spectacles as though lost in thought, the pause lengthening and listeners' expectations swelling until he again broke the silence with "his unequalled voice, which was equally distinct and clear, whether at its highest key or lowest whisper-rich, musical, captivating." Like any accomplished trial lawyer, Clay commanded attention with tricks to distract the audience when others were speaking. He looked bored and stared at the distance while "eating sticks of striped peppermint candy." Foes and friends reacted accordingly. Clay was "very imperious" and showed "bad temper in debate,"60 or he displayed "a most courteous and conciliatory deportment to all his great political opponents." or he displayed "a most courteous and conciliatory deportment to all his great political opponents."61 Clay's erstwhile friend Francis Preston Blair prudently adopted the maxim not to demagogue in private when he warned his Jacksonian cronies that Clay was formidable because he "never deserted a friend." Other men had political allies, Blair said, but Clay had friends for whom he showed real and enduring affection.62 Edward Bates, who became Abraham Lincoln's attorney general, described Clay's charisma as "a winning fascination in his manner that will suffer none to be his enemies who operate with him." "His manly & bold countenance" gave rise to "an emotion little short of enthusiasm in his cause, and nothing short of absolute detestation & contempt for the cowardly" people who opposed him. Henry Clay was "a great man," said Ned Bates, "one of nature's nobles." Edward Bates, who became Abraham Lincoln's attorney general, described Clay's charisma as "a winning fascination in his manner that will suffer none to be his enemies who operate with him." "His manly & bold countenance" gave rise to "an emotion little short of enthusiasm in his cause, and nothing short of absolute detestation & contempt for the cowardly" people who opposed him. Henry Clay was "a great man," said Ned Bates, "one of nature's nobles."63 CLAY'S IMMEDIATE TASKS in the Senate were to protect the American System and to get himself elected president. Protecting the American System became a significant challenge because South Carolina's protests about the Tariff of Abominations were in full roar, and the state's Nullifiers were readying to move on its polls. Eager to avert a crisis, Congress wavered on protection as National Republicans lost their nerve. Clay warned that to give in to threats only invited more demands, and he worked to isolate both Nullifiers and antitariff southerners angling to form a western alliance by supporting lower land prices. in the Senate were to protect the American System and to get himself elected president. Protecting the American System became a significant challenge because South Carolina's protests about the Tariff of Abominations were in full roar, and the state's Nullifiers were readying to move on its polls. Eager to avert a crisis, Congress wavered on protection as National Republicans lost their nerve. Clay warned that to give in to threats only invited more demands, and he worked to isolate both Nullifiers and antitariff southerners angling to form a western alliance by supporting lower land prices.64 He first thought he could accomplish this with an alternative tariff, but others doubted the plan would work. The day after Christmas, Clay called on another "junior" member of Congress, Representative John Quincy Adams, who had broken the tradition of former presidents living in quiet retirement. Since leaving office, Adams had been chilly toward Clay.65 That previous summer, Clay had written to Adams after hearing of James Monroe's death, but his light tone put off the New Englander. Clay noted that Adams's father, Thomas Jefferson, and now James Monroe had all died on July 4, making it "very unfashionable" for former presidents to die on any other day. Every July 5, a former president would know that he had at least another year to live. Clay closed with warm wishes "that That previous summer, Clay had written to Adams after hearing of James Monroe's death, but his light tone put off the New Englander. Clay noted that Adams's father, Thomas Jefferson, and now James Monroe had all died on July 4, making it "very unfashionable" for former presidents to die on any other day. Every July 5, a former president would know that he had at least another year to live. Clay closed with warm wishes "that your your fourth may be far distant." Adams was not amused. fourth may be far distant." Adams was not amused.66 In fact, Adams wore annoyance like a frock coat. Meeting with him that December afternoon, Clay tried another joke. He asked how Adams "felt upon turning boy again to go into the House of Representatives." Adams's response was tart: he did not know yet, since the House had done little business. Clay abandoned apparently useless pleasantries and turned to the tariff. His real purpose for the visit, after all, was to generate support for his idea. He assured Adams that southern agitation was merely a bluff that would soon die down, but Adams thought that South Carolina was far from bluffing. "Here is one great error of Mr. Clay," Adams told his diary.67 Days later, National Republicans caucused in Massachusetts congressman Edward Everett's rooms to hear Clay explain his plan. In addition to the threat of possible cooperation between the South and the West to kill protection, Clay feared that the administration would adopt an antitariff stance simply to oppose him. Jackson's annual message promised to eliminate the national debt by the end of his first term, in March 1833. It was a laudable goal, but Clay worried about its ramifications for the tariff. A Treasury surplus would make significant tariff revenues unnecessary. Clay's bill would have done away with duties on imports such as tea, coffee, and spices while reducing them on other items. Otherwise, Clay planned to sustain high duties on products still in need of protection from foreign competition. Reducing or eliminating duties, he explained, would prevent a large surplus and require a tariff to produce revenue. Clay was pleasant during his presentation, though Adams also found him somewhat overbearing, an impression that might have resulted from the New Englander's jealousy over Clay's rising fortunes. The two also had a sharp exchange. Adams said they should not defy the president's plan to pay off the debt, but Clay growled that "he would defy the South, the President, and the devil" to preserve the American System. His efforts to jolly Adams were at an end.68 Calhoun led the administration's other antagonists in Congress, and had it not been for that faction's extreme opposition to the tariff, Clay might have been able to fold it into a formidable coalition. The two groups grasped what they perceived was a splendid opportunity to act on their shared hostility to Andrew Jackson when his nomination of Martin Van Buren as minister to Great Britain came before the Senate for confirmation. Van Buren's solution to the Margaret Eaton muddle had left him unemployed, and Jackson rewarded him with the diplomatic assignment to Great Britain. The recess appointment meant that Van Buren had already sailed for London when Congress began considering his confirmation, and Calhoun was excited about doubly embarrassing the Little Magician by compelling his recall.69 Van Buren's tenure at State made him more than qualified to represent the United States at the Court of Saint James, but Jackson's enemies wanted to make clear that Congress had not become the administration's rubber stamp. That resolve was made easier because Van Buren's climb to power had left behind it a wake of ill will. Senators spoke of his role in engineering the widespread dismissals and in causing the rupture between Calhoun and Jackson. Van Buren had managed to usher in excellent Anglo-American relations and had finally persuaded the British to open their West Indian colonies to American trade, securing an agreement that had eluded Clay. Yet more than sour grapes motivated Clay's opposition to Van Buren's appointment to London. Clay was livid that Van Buren had ingratiated himself with the British by criticizing the Adams administration, a gesture that had prostrated and degraded "the American eagle before the British lion."70 Opposition forces arranged for the vote to end in a tie, giving Calhoun the honor of breaking it to defeat Van Buren's confirmation. Afterward, Calhoun was reportedly giddy: "It will kill him dead, sir, kill him dead. He will never kick, sir, never kick."71 Van Buren did not need to kick. Humiliating him only made Van Buren a martyr in many people's eyes, a victim of partisan bickering. His rejection by the Senate would bring him home, but hardly in disgrace. Instead, he would again be at Jackson's side, accelerating the plan for him to replace Calhoun on Jackson's 1832 ticket. Van Buren did not need to kick. Humiliating him only made Van Buren a martyr in many people's eyes, a victim of partisan bickering. His rejection by the Senate would bring him home, but hardly in disgrace. Instead, he would again be at Jackson's side, accelerating the plan for him to replace Calhoun on Jackson's 1832 ticket.72 Van Buren had drawn Clay's and Calhoun's supporters together, but the session's tariff debates drove them apart. Jackson's secretary of the Treasury, Louis McLane, was working with the House Committee on Manufactures (chaired by Adams) to draft a tariff satisfactory to the South while sustaining at least the principle of protection. Clay did not like the looks of that development, for the last thing he wanted was for the administration to be able to claim credit for solving this crisis as the election neared. As the House committee worked on the McLane-Adams bill, Clay wrote his own to present to the Senate on January 11, 1832. Administration men immediately attacked Clay's plan as insufficient in its reductions, punitive toward the South, and harmful to the market. Clay grew openly irritable and tenacious, "prepared for anything to advance his own views," possibly even strike a "bargain with the devil."73 As far as Clay was concerned, that was precisely what John Quincy Adams had done. His cooperation with the Jacksonians was galling, particularly when they began branding Clay a Federalist in comparison.74 Meanwhile, senators fearful of a confrontation with South Carolina Nullifiers preferred the more moderate Adams-McLane tariff, and Clay's impatience boiled over in a speech that spanned three days in February. He provided a long look at the history of tariffs in the United States. Not so long ago, he said reflectively while staring at Calhoun, almost everyone acknowledged the wisdom of the protective tariff. The year 1816 came to mind when a majority that included the current vice president had approved the tariff and had embraced the American System as the best way to ensure American prosperity. Meanwhile, senators fearful of a confrontation with South Carolina Nullifiers preferred the more moderate Adams-McLane tariff, and Clay's impatience boiled over in a speech that spanned three days in February. He provided a long look at the history of tariffs in the United States. Not so long ago, he said reflectively while staring at Calhoun, almost everyone acknowledged the wisdom of the protective tariff. The year 1816 came to mind when a majority that included the current vice president had approved the tariff and had embraced the American System as the best way to ensure American prosperity.75 Clay was amazed at the mistaken idea that free trade would solve all the world's economic problems. He shouted, "Free trade! Free trade! The call for free trade, is as unavailing as the cry of a spoiled child, in its nurse's arms, for the moon or the stars that glitter in the firmament of heaven. It never existed; it never will exist." Instead of liberating American commerce, free trade would only place the nation "under the commercial dominion of Great Britain." Clay was amazed at the mistaken idea that free trade would solve all the world's economic problems. He shouted, "Free trade! Free trade! The call for free trade, is as unavailing as the cry of a spoiled child, in its nurse's arms, for the moon or the stars that glitter in the firmament of heaven. It never existed; it never will exist." Instead of liberating American commerce, free trade would only place the nation "under the commercial dominion of Great Britain."76 Clay's seemingly interminable blizzard of words was an exhaustive treatment of the subject as well as simply exhausting, for both him and his listeners. He was tired, and many he had wanted to persuade remained unconvinced, which set the mood for confrontation. The old War of 1812 veteran Samuel Smith came unsteadily to his feet, unaware that he was about to be figuratively knocked off them. Smith confessed to having been among those Clay had mentioned who formerly supported protective tariffs but now opposed them. He simply doubted the need for Clay's higher duties. Clay derisively turned on Smith. What this old relic and Jacksonian toady was really saying, Clay thundered, was that he no longer cared about American manufacturers. He recited an insulting rhyme: "Old politicians chew on wisdom past / And totter totter on in business to the last." Smith took the bait. Leaping to his feet, he snarled that "the last allusion is unworthy of the gentleman," and shouted, "Totter, sir? I totter! Though some twenty years older than the gentleman, I can yet stand firm, and am yet able to correct his errors. I could take a view of the gentleman's course which would show how inconsistent he has been." Clay shouted back, "Take it, sir, take it-I dare you." Cries of "Order!" rang through the chamber as Smith bellowed over the din, "No, Sir, I will not take it. I will not so far disregard what is due to the dignity of the Senate." The Senate quickly adjourned for the day. on in business to the last." Smith took the bait. Leaping to his feet, he snarled that "the last allusion is unworthy of the gentleman," and shouted, "Totter, sir? I totter! Though some twenty years older than the gentleman, I can yet stand firm, and am yet able to correct his errors. I could take a view of the gentleman's course which would show how inconsistent he has been." Clay shouted back, "Take it, sir, take it-I dare you." Cries of "Order!" rang through the chamber as Smith bellowed over the din, "No, Sir, I will not take it. I will not so far disregard what is due to the dignity of the Senate." The Senate quickly adjourned for the day.77 Jacksonian newspapers universally condemned Clay's treatment of Smith. Francis Preston Blair's Globe Globe played on the issue of age with an editorial headlined "Mr. Clay's Senility," ignoring that the seventy-nine-year-old Marylander had actually shaved five years off his age in comparing himself to Clay. played on the issue of age with an editorial headlined "Mr. Clay's Senility," ignoring that the seventy-nine-year-old Marylander had actually shaved five years off his age in comparing himself to Clay.78 The feisty performance, however, energized National Republicans heartened to see someone rearing up on his hind legs at imperious Jacksonians. Clay during his audacious days in the House had never been better, they thought, and even those who disagreed with him "admired his splendid talents, his bold, chivalrous & manly bearing" and "his fearless & uncompromising spirit in what he deemed to be right." The feisty performance, however, energized National Republicans heartened to see someone rearing up on his hind legs at imperious Jacksonians. Clay during his audacious days in the House had never been better, they thought, and even those who disagreed with him "admired his splendid talents, his bold, chivalrous & manly bearing" and "his fearless & uncompromising spirit in what he deemed to be right."79 Better yet, Clay seemed to be winning. His resolution was sent to the Committee on Manufactures, of which he was a member and likely to dominate its discussions. Yet opponents had a plan to turn westerners against Clay. To distract the committee from rapid deliberations on Clay's bill, Thomas Hart Benton managed to get an administration initiative referred to the Committee on Manufactures as well, even though it obviously had nothing to do with manufacturing. Benton's bill instead proposed to lower land prices through a complicated system of distributing proceeds to the states. The measure was popular with westerners, and Clay's opposition to it risked his western support in the coming election. He did not believe in artificially high land prices, but he refused to let Benton and the Jacksonians bully him to win votes. In addition, Clay worried that extremely low land prices on the western frontier would depress property values in the settled areas while removing land revenues as a source of income for the government. Securing funds for internal improvements would then become all but impossible.80 Clay knew that southerners were likely to support any proposal that committed the West to oppose a tariff, and before such an irresistible majority took shape, he moved to supplant the administration's land policy with one of his own. His alternative was similar to Benton's, but its differences, while key, allowed Clay to portray it as a compromise. As in the administration plan, the government would distribute proceeds to the states for explicit purposes such as internal improvements, education, debt retirement, or colonizing freed slaves. Yet Benton had proposed selling the lands directly to the states, while Clay wanted the federal government to retain possession and sell to individuals or private consortia to ensure top dollar for the tracts. As enticement for the West, Clay proposed that a state would receive 10 percent of revenue from the sale of public lands within its borders. The Treasury would divide the balance among all the other states in sums based on population. Keeping land prices relatively high would please easterners worried that cheap land would lure their citizens westward, and the government would be forced to rely on a tariff for operating funds. Though proponents of lower land prices were not happy with Clay's plan, it was a shrewd interweaving of specific interests for a common good, and it attracted enough support from the Northeast and more populous Western states to pass in the Senate. Clay foiled Benton's ploy to make him appear an enemy of western interests, but his bill died in the House.81 Clay's tariff fared no better. He had the votes to bring it out of the Committee on Manufactures, but many of his colleagues still believed the Adams-McLane proposal was a less confrontational compromise. The House's tariff did not abandon protection, which was the only reason Clay found it marginally acceptable, but it drastically reduced many duties to 1824 levels. Clay labored to raise rates with amendments, but the House rejected the changes, and rather than risk a crisis with South Carolina, the Senate finally conceded. Protectionist circles at least credited Clay with preserving their principles. The bill that ultimately passed both houses in July 1832 little resembled Clay's but was essentially the one Adams and Secretary McLane had originally proposed. Jackson signed it, and many hailed it as a laudable and satisfactory compromise. South Carolina Nullifiers could not have disagreed more.82 IN ADDITION TO debating a new tariff and land policy, Congress also considered renewing the charter for the Second Bank of the United States. The bank's current charter would not expire until 1836, but BUS president Nicholas Biddle hoped that holding the renewal debate in an election year would compel Jackson to sign off on what had become a popular institution largely responsible for a thriving economy. debating a new tariff and land policy, Congress also considered renewing the charter for the Second Bank of the United States. The bank's current charter would not expire until 1836, but BUS president Nicholas Biddle hoped that holding the renewal debate in an election year would compel Jackson to sign off on what had become a popular institution largely responsible for a thriving economy.

The move was risky, however, because Jackson disapproved of the BUS. Shortly after his inauguration in 1829, he told Biddle he disapproved of all banks, which was something of an exaggeration, although Jackson's own financial problems thirty years earlier had indeed created in him an enduring distrust of paper money. Like many westerners, he held the BUS responsible for the Panic of 1819 and the resulting financial crisis. He believed that loans in banknotes that exceeded an institution's actual holdings were inherently dishonest, and he inclined toward using only specie for financial transactions. Biddle's steady leadership of the BUS since 1823 had inspired growing support for the Bank, even in Jackson's cabinet, but Jackson remained unconvinced that it served the financial interests of the country so much as it fattened the wallets of its wealthy investors.

Left unspoken, of course, were less lofty reasons for disliking the BUS, such as its independence from the executive, making it a patronage engine the administration could not control. Jacksonian constituencies, local bankers among them, chafed under Biddle's ability to control credit, always on the restrictive side to their thinking. Biddle did not realize how deep those resentments ran or how determined Jacksonian politicos were to transfer patronage privileges to the U.S. Treasury. Rather, he hoped he could change Jackson's mind before the BUS charter expired. From the day of Jackson's inauguration, Biddle used diplomacy and gentle persuasion to convert Old Hickory, but the BUS president rubbed the U.S. president the wrong way from the start. Biddle's belonging to one of Philadelphia's most patrician families, his sterling education, and his diplomatic service abroad made him seem aloof. His immersion in the complex world of national finance made him seem arrogant. He was an excellent financier but as it turned out a poor politician and an ineffective pleader. Biddle occasionally overcame these deficiencies with questionable practices, such as putting prominent politicians on the BUS payroll, a move that laid him and the Bank open to charges of corruption. In 1829, he had sealed for Jackson the impression of suspect dealing. Biddle proposed early recharter in exchange for the BUS assuming the national debt, pledging to pay it off by 1833 as Jackson wanted. That interview with the president went quite badly, because Jackson bristled at Biddle's transparent attempt to buy support for recharter by taking on one of Jackson's pet projects. He never trusted Biddle again, and he instantly hardened against the Bank. He made clear in his first annual message that he was opposed to its recharter.83 The following year, Biddle considered asking for early renewal anyway, hoping the Bank's popularity and the good economy would induce Jackson to consent. Credit was stable, and the Bank's notes circulated nationally as sound currency. Biddle asked Clay's advice, but the former BUS attorney counseled caution. If Jackson vetoed a renewal bill, Bank supporters could not muster the two-thirds majority to override it. Biddle decided to wait.84 His decision to ask the Twenty-second Congress for early renewal at the end of 1831 seems to have been coincidental with Clay's return to the Senate, not because of it. Evidence indicates that Biddle's course was his own, taken entirely independently of advice from Clay. It so happened that Clay by then agreed with Biddle that the time for recharter had arrived. Jackson's December 1831 annual message indicated a softening position on the Bank, and everyone knew that Secretary of the Treasury McLane supported recharter and might take the lead on a bill allaying Jackson's remaining objections. In addition, Biddle judged that Jackson was more likely to sign a recharter before rather than after the 1832 presidential election. He would not want to alienate Mid-Atlantic states, where the Bank was especially popular, and thereby put his reelection bid at risk. Clay saw the wisdom in Biddle's calculation, though he was not as confident that Jackson would sign the recharter. On the other hand, Clay had done some calculating of his own. A Jackson veto was likely to throw those valuable Mid-Atlantic votes into Clay's column.85 Congress took up recharter in January 1832, but an investigation into the Bank's alleged misconduct delayed substantive debate until May when the charges were finally declared groundless. The ensuing discussion, however, was odd in that the Bank's proponents made little effort to dispute objections to it. This passivity immediately raised speculation that Clay and the National Republicans actually wanted a Jackson veto in order to create an important campaign issue. Only circumstantial evidence supported that conclusion, but the evidence was nonetheless convincing. For example, Clay confided to friends that he expected a veto and that it would cost Old Hickory Pennsylvania at the very least. In addition, orchestrated moves to produce a formal rather than a "pocket" veto indicate that the National Republicans did not want recharter so much as they wanted to force Jackson's hand.

The Constitution provides two ways for a bill to become law. One is straightforward: Congress passes the bill and the executive signs it. The other is indirect: if the president does not sign the bill within ten days, it becomes law without his signature-but only if Congress is still in session. Otherwise, the bill dies. If Congress does not adjourn within those ten days, a president wishing to kill a bill must formally veto it and return it to the legislature with an explanation. Traditionally, presidents had wielded the veto only when they believed a bill to be unconstitutional, meaning that the will of Congress as the voice of the people trumped policy differences. In any case, the veto message provided a point of departure for Congress either to override the veto with an extraordinary majority of two-thirds, or to tailor the bill to the president's satisfaction. On the other hand, if Congress adjourns within the ten days and the bill expires without the president's signature, the resulting "pocket veto" requires no message, in part because Congress cannot debate an override if it is not in session.

The Senate passed the bank recharter on June 11, 1832, but the House did not vote until July 3, a mere six days before scheduled adjournment. Clay worked with Webster to postpone the close of the session until July 16, forcing Jackson to provide a formal veto message. Clay clearly intended to run on this issue because he believed a presidential veto would prove immensely unpopular.86 Just as there was little doubt that Congress would pass the bill, there was little doubt that Jackson would veto it. Most of his cabinet, including his Treasury secretary, supported recharter, but Jackson would have died rather than sign a bill he correctly assessed as meant to embarrass him. Van Buren was at his side when the bill came to the White House on July 4, and Jackson snarled, "The bank is trying to kill me, Mr. Van Buren, but I will kill it." Ignoring his official counselors, Jackson turned to his Kitchen Cabinet, which included men such as Amos Kendall and Francis Preston Blair. The clear, articulate prose in the veto message was certainly not Jackson's, although it perfectly conveyed his attitudes. The primary authors were probably Amos Kendall; Jackson's nephew and secretary, Andrew Jackson Donelson; and his attorney general, Roger B. Taney, the one member of the cabinet who approved of Jackson's stand on the Bank. Because Kendall was so heavily involved, the veto was accordingly short on constitutional principles and long on populist propaganda.87 The Bank, said the message, was unconstitutional because Jackson said it was. It dismissed Chief Justice John Marshall's decision in McCulloch v. Maryland McCulloch v. Maryland by insisting that the president was the equal and possibly the superior of the judiciary in weighing the constitutionality of legislation. The message took some pains to show how precedent was largely immaterial in making such determinations, implying behind the thinnest veneer of legal reasoning that the president's personal preference, a sort of constitutional intuition, was most important. As an effective political statement rather than a sound legal argument, the veto excelled. It condemned the Bank as a tool of plutocrats, a dangerous monopoly, an anti-American establishment that relied on foreigners, particularly Britons, to form a substantial number of its stockholders. Jackson's constitutional objections were half-baked, and his populist attack was patently unfair and relied on shameless distortions of a well-run, efficient financial institution, but that did not matter. The veto portrayed him as a champion of the common folk, ever vigilant as their protector against privilege and predatory interests. In that regard, it was a political masterpiece. It also clearly implied that the members of Congress who wanted recharter were not just enemies of the people's interests, but enemies of the people. Although he had gotten what he wanted, the implication that supporters of the BUS were cynical and corrupt made Henry Clay hopping mad. by insisting that the president was the equal and possibly the superior of the judiciary in weighing the constitutionality of legislation. The message took some pains to show how precedent was largely immaterial in making such determinations, implying behind the thinnest veneer of legal reasoning that the president's personal preference, a sort of constitutional intuition, was most important. As an effective political statement rather than a sound legal argument, the veto excelled. It condemned the Bank as a tool of plutocrats, a dangerous monopoly, an anti-American establishment that relied on foreigners, particularly Britons, to form a substantial number of its stockholders. Jackson's constitutional objections were half-baked, and his populist attack was patently unfair and relied on shameless distortions of a well-run, efficient financial institution, but that did not matter. The veto portrayed him as a champion of the common folk, ever vigilant as their protector against privilege and predatory interests. In that regard, it was a political masterpiece. It also clearly implied that the members of Congress who wanted recharter were not just enemies of the people's interests, but enemies of the people. Although he had gotten what he wanted, the implication that supporters of the BUS were cynical and corrupt made Henry Clay hopping mad.88 The veto itself also left him greatly alarmed. When the Senate began debating it on July 11, Webster took the lead for the BUS by presenting a lengthy history of the Bank's usefulness in promoting a healthy economy and the case for its constitutionality, but the following day, Clay raised the larger issue of executive responsibility and legislative supremacy. Jackson, he said, had used the veto in a way the Framers never envisioned. Clay was quite correct in assessing Jackson's veto message as a momentous expansion of presidential power. In more than forty years of constitutional government, presidents had vetoed legislation on only ten occasions, and each of those had derived almost entirely from questions of constitutionality. Jackson had referred to the Constitution in his message, but he essentially objected to the recharter of the Bank because he found the Bank personally objectionable. This was a vast assumption of executive prerogative. Jackson effectively amplified the president's power to the equivalent of two-thirds of Congress and made the executive branch of government an entity with potentially imperial authority over both the legislature and the courts.

Clay warned the Senate. Jackson's presumption that his constitutional judgment was superior to that of Congress amounted to a treacherous act of executive usurpation, the sort of overreach Americans had found despicable in a king and should find no less appalling in a president. Those legislators who had voted for the Bank's original charter and had voted to recharter were the people's representatives, subject to the people's approval or rejection, and were consequently far more qualified than Jackson to make those judgments. How dare Andrew Jackson, Clay thundered, question the motives of any duly elected member of Congress for supporting the Bank?89 The next day, Thomas Hart Benton responded for the administration and was particularly provocative in taking Clay to task for making remarks "wanting in courtesy, indecorous, and disrespectful to the Chief Magistrate." Clay slowly rose from his seat and demanded the floor to dispute Benton's remarks and especially to answer his personal criticism, which was the part of Clay's reply that everyone would recall.90 He could not allow Benton to instruct him "in etiquette and courtesy," Clay said with mock innocence, because, after all, he was not sure which of Benton's opinions about the president to adopt. Should it be the one in which Benton "complained of the President beating" his brother "after he was prostrated and lying apparently lifeless," or the one when Benton predicted that if Jackson were elected, congressmen would have to arm themselves? He could not allow Benton to instruct him "in etiquette and courtesy," Clay said with mock innocence, because, after all, he was not sure which of Benton's opinions about the president to adopt. Should it be the one in which Benton "complained of the President beating" his brother "after he was prostrated and lying apparently lifeless," or the one when Benton predicted that if Jackson were elected, congressmen would have to arm themselves?91 Benton took the floor. He admitted to an earlier "personal conflict" with Jackson, but they had fought as men. He denied ever making the statement that Jackson's election would require congressmen to carry weapons. Clay whirled. He drew the words out slowly in a measured cadence: "Can the Senator throw his eyes on me-will he look in my face and assert that he never used language similar to that imputed to him?" Benton, "after a pause," shook his finger at Clay and said, "He could-he could." Clay's eyes narrowed as he said, again slowly, "Can the Senator look me in the face and say he did not make use of such language?" Benton repeated that he had not. Clay asked a third time. Benton for a third time said no. Clay abruptly sat down, but Benton kept talking, quickly working himself into a stew. He would pin this "atrocious calumny" to Clay's sleeve, he shouted, and "it would stick, stick, stick there, and there he wished it to remain."

Clay sprang from his chair and raised his voice too, shouting that "he returned the charge of calumny to the senator from Missouri." Jacksonian senator Littleton Waller Tazewell of Virginia, temporarily presiding, ruled the debate out of order and told Clay to sit down. Clay protested that he wanted to explain his remarks. Tazewell insisted that "no further explanation will be heard from the gentleman from Kentucky." Clay demanded to know on what grounds he was being ruled out of order. His inappropriate language, said Tazewell. Clay sputtered that Benton's language had been just as objectionable. Very well, said Benton, and he promptly apologized to the Senate, admitting that his language had been out of order. Clay gave up. He wearily offered a similar apology to the Senate but added, "For the Senator from Missouri I have none."92 The Senate did not override the veto. The date of the vote, Friday, July 13, might have struck some as a significant indicator of the legislature's luck. Jackson was on his way to striking down twelve congressional enactments, more than all his predecessors combined. The stroke of a pen had effectively demoted Congress to a potentially subordinate role in the lawmaking process, depending on the whim of the president, a change that would have profound repercussions for constitutional government, as Clay warned.

The capital, however, was too preoccupied with the current drama staged by Benton and Clay to worry much about such abstractions. For days following their angry exchange, rumors swirled that they would fight a duel, and not until the two headed home did the gossiping stop.93 THESE QUARRELS EXHAUSTED Clay. The battles over the tariff and the Bank had taxed his failing stamina to the breaking point, and he longed to be at Ashland. On the way home from Washington, he, Lucretia, and little Henry Duralde stopped at White Sulphur Springs for a brief rest. The Clay caravan was "a strange medley," as he described it, consisting of "four servants, two carriages, six horses, a Jack ass [recently purchased for his mule-breeding business], and a Shepherds dog." The resort's owner, James Caldwell, a close friend and political supporter, had gladly prepared comfortable accommodations for everyone, for Clay was a regular guest. He had visited the Kentucky or Virginia springs during the hot summer months for years, because they were on cooler high ground. Sometimes called simply the Virginia Springs, White Sulphur was not luxurious, but it did provide a pleasant, rustic setting nestled in mountains for congenial groups to gather. During this stay, Clay impressed the son of Washington architect Benjamin Latrobe as "certainly the most pleasant man I ever was in company with." Clay. The battles over the tariff and the Bank had taxed his failing stamina to the breaking point, and he longed to be at Ashland. On the way home from Washington, he, Lucretia, and little Henry Duralde stopped at White Sulphur Springs for a brief rest. The Clay caravan was "a strange medley," as he described it, consisting of "four servants, two carriages, six horses, a Jack ass [recently purchased for his mule-breeding business], and a Shepherds dog." The resort's owner, James Caldwell, a close friend and political supporter, had gladly prepared comfortable accommodations for everyone, for Clay was a regular guest. He had visited the Kentucky or Virginia springs during the hot summer months for years, because they were on cooler high ground. Sometimes called simply the Virginia Springs, White Sulphur was not luxurious, but it did provide a pleasant, rustic setting nestled in mountains for congenial groups to gather. During this stay, Clay impressed the son of Washington architect Benjamin Latrobe as "certainly the most pleasant man I ever was in company with."94 The override vote was a symbolic gesture at most, a ploy by National Republicans to emphasize Jackson's stand on the Bank, which they expected voters to punish with telling and possibly decisive disapproval. Biddle thought the veto displayed "all the fury of a chained panther biting the bars of his cage," and Clay believed it would certainly damage the president with the business and manufacturing communities. He was likely correct that more Americans approved of the BUS than actively loathed it, but he never understood how Jackson's veto message resonated with the common voter and how successful Jackson had been tying the National Republicans to special interests and painting them with the brush of corruption.95 Ever the optimist, he hoped that from the sanctuary of Ashland he could direct a successful campaign based on a popular appeal to the American System. If he could convince New England, hold the Mid-Atlantic, and make inroads in the West, he thought that he just possibly had a chance.96 He nevertheless needed the Antimasons to abandon their independent campaign and join National Republicans if he were to have any hope of defeating Jackson. He told his operatives to refrain from criticizing Wirt. Instead, he sought to find common ground and show the Antimasons that only unity could lead them to victory. Wirt finally came to his senses to promote fusion. Although efforts in New York gained some ground, most Antimasons remained wary of National Republicans, who they suspected were under Masonic control. He nevertheless needed the Antimasons to abandon their independent campaign and join National Republicans if he were to have any hope of defeating Jackson. He told his operatives to refrain from criticizing Wirt. Instead, he sought to find common ground and show the Antimasons that only unity could lead them to victory. Wirt finally came to his senses to promote fusion. Although efforts in New York gained some ground, most Antimasons remained wary of National Republicans, who they suspected were under Masonic control.97 Even had these fractured factions united, they could never have matched the effectiveness of the Jacksonians. Van Buren had built the Democrat House, and operatives like Kendall ran it. The vulpine Kendall directed the central Hickory Club in Washington that disseminated information to local counterparts throughout the country. Clay was well aware of the deficiencies in the National Republican organization, such as it was, and he tried to persuade friends to get out his message and work to turn out voters, but all efforts were too little as well as too late.98 Meanwhile, he was barely able to keep up with the Jacksonian press's relentless smears. Blair's Meanwhile, he was barely able to keep up with the Jacksonian press's relentless smears. Blair's Globe Globe invented a story that in 1809, after Clay's duel with Humphrey Marshall, he had recovered from his wound at a friend's home, where he had repaid his host's kindness by fleecing him at brag, merrily taking money the man could not afford to lose. Clay refuted the story in the invented a story that in 1809, after Clay's duel with Humphrey Marshall, he had recovered from his wound at a friend's home, where he had repaid his host's kindness by fleecing him at brag, merrily taking money the man could not afford to lose. Clay refuted the story in the National Intelligencer National Intelligencer and for good measure branded as a lie the and for good measure branded as a lie the Globe Globe's claim that the bullet recently removed from Jackson's left arm was from a wound he had suffered in the service of the country. Jackson, said Clay, had actually taken that bullet in the infamous Nashville street brawl with the Bentons in 1813.99 The early news from state elections in the late summer did not bode well for Clay. The Kentucky governor's race set a dismal pattern of defeat. Fraud abounded as Jacksonians came into southern Kentucky from Tennessee to stuff ballot boxes, sometimes so exuberantly that tallies in several counties exceeded the number of eligible voters. Clay had no solution for such brazen tactics, and he was reduced to urging his friends to work all the harder for the main contest in the fall. He seems to have realized, though, that no amount of work would make a difference. As the campaign neared its end, he had to quash a new wave of rumors spread by Blair's operatives in Kentucky that he had withdrawn from the race. It seemed they never slept.100 Returns from the presidential canvass at the end of October quickly revealed that he had lost the election; the only hope that remained was that Antimasons would be as much a spoiler for Jackson as for Clay, preventing a majority in the Electoral College, but that was a slim possibility at best. Adding to the unhappy prospect of inevitable defeat, erstwhile supporters asked Clay to withdraw in favor of Wirt should Jackson fail to receive a majority of the electoral votes. That humiliation proved unnecessary, though the request certainly wounded Clay's feelings.101 Jackson's popular vote percentage declined 1.8 percent from his margin over Adams in 1828, but his victory in the Electoral College was devastating. A coalition of National Republicans and Antimasons would not have made the slightest difference. Jackson won walking away. Clay took only Kentucky, Maryland, Delaware, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut, giving him a mere 49 electoral votes. Jackson had 219.102 Depressed and humiliated, Clay seriously considered resigning from the Senate to make way for John J. Crittenden, but Crittenden persuaded him to reconsider. As Clay prepared to travel to Washington, he was nonetheless sick at heart. Depressed and humiliated, Clay seriously considered resigning from the Senate to make way for John J. Crittenden, but Crittenden persuaded him to reconsider. As Clay prepared to travel to Washington, he was nonetheless sick at heart.103 Clay regretted Jackson's victory more bitterly than he did his own defeat. During the campaign, he had fearfully weighed the prospect of another four years under Jackson and concluded that "a real crisis in our Republic has arrived."104 He regarded "the reign of Jackson" as just that: a tenure marked by the growing supremacy of the executive, "the reign of corruption & demoralization." In the process, shuddered Clay, Andrew Jackson had "put a pick axe at the base of every pillar that supports every department and every valuable institution in the Country." He could not comprehend why the country abided it, could not fathom why the people had confirmed it. He regarded "the reign of Jackson" as just that: a tenure marked by the growing supremacy of the executive, "the reign of corruption & demoralization." In the process, shuddered Clay, Andrew Jackson had "put a pick axe at the base of every pillar that supports every department and every valuable institution in the Country." He could not comprehend why the country abided it, could not fathom why the people had confirmed it.105 "The dark cloud," Clay said, " ... has become more dense, more menacing[,] more alarming." "The dark cloud," Clay said, " ... has become more dense, more menacing[,] more alarming."106 THOUGH NOT FOR lack of trying, Clay would never win the presidency. Instead, he remained in the Senate for the next ten years, went into retirement for seven years, and returned to the Senate in the final days of his life. The Senate became his political home, and he left his mark indelibly on it. He served on, and often chaired, virtually every standing committee. He brought finely honed parliamentary talents to bear, employed charm, used sarcasm, and hurled invective to wield a level of influence that made him peerless in the annals of the upper house of the national legislature. He sincerely believed that restraint and cooperation would best secure the country and promote its welfare, and he came to abhor extremism. Intelligent, informed men could always reach an agreement in Clay's political world, as long as they negotiated in good faith. That was the reason he found the changes wrought by Jacksonian politics so disturbing. Physical intimidation and character assassination were not the stuff of reason; they were not the marks of good faith. lack of trying, Clay would never win the presidency. Instead, he remained in the Senate for the next ten years, went into retirement for seven years, and returned to the Senate in the final days of his life. The Senate became his political home, and he left his mark indelibly on it. He served on, and often chaired, virtually every standing committee. He brought finely honed parliamentary talents to bear, employed charm, used sarcasm, and hurled invective to wield a level of influence that made him peerless in the annals of the upper house of the national legislature. He sincerely believed that restraint and cooperation would best secure the country and promote its welfare, and he came to abhor extremism. Intelligent, informed men could always reach an agreement in Clay's political world, as long as they negotiated in good faith. That was the reason he found the changes wrought by Jacksonian politics so disturbing. Physical intimidation and character assassination were not the stuff of reason; they were not the marks of good faith.107 As he returned to Washington in December, he was therefore troubled to his very core. Fifteen-year-old James Brown Clay was his only companion, for Lucretia did not make the trip. Racked by guilt over leaving Theodore, she refused to suffer that gloom again in dreary, contentious Washington. Clay planned to send James on to Boston to learn the workings of a mercantile firm, leaving Clay alone in the capital during the bleak winter.108 He tried to remain cheerful and labored to put the best face on the election. He felt "entitled to your congratulations for our recent political defeat," he told a friend. "Jackson had so completely put every thing into disorder, that we should have found it very difficult to mend fences and repair injuries." He tried to remain cheerful and labored to put the best face on the election. He felt "entitled to your congratulations for our recent political defeat," he told a friend. "Jackson had so completely put every thing into disorder, that we should have found it very difficult to mend fences and repair injuries."109 His lighthearted manner was more than ever a mask of smiles. His lighthearted manner was more than ever a mask of smiles.

In fact, his response to a major emerging crisis threatening the Union revealed the level of his disenchantment and disengagement. Late that fall, just after the election, South Carolina nullified the tariffs of 1828 and 1832. Many had assumed the nationalism exhibited by congressional majorities would cow South Carolina radicals, but it had only enraged them. South Carolinians trooped to the polls to approve a convention, and on November 24, 1832, it passed an ordinance nullifying the tariffs and setting February 1, 1833, as the day collections would end in South Carolina. John C. Calhoun resigned from the vice presidency, and the South Carolina legislature promptly held a special election to place him in Robert Y. Hayne's Senate seat, vacated when Hayne was elected governor, signs that the Nullifiers were running things in the Palmetto State and that Calhoun had finally, irrevocably transformed into a sectionalist.110 Andrew Jackson's initial response to South Carolina's defiance puzzled Clay. On December 4, the president's annual message contained a relatively mild endorsement of states' rights as a principle, which hardly seemed appropriate in light of what had just happened. Clay was made no happier, though, when six days later Jackson issued a crackling proclamation threatening force if South Carolina did not rescind nullification. Clay suspected that Jackson's belligerence would only cause South Carolina to dig in its heels, and he was not alone in fearing that the crisis could bring on civil war, a brushfire that could spread beyond South Carolina to unite the entire South and destroy the Union. Noting the geography involved in coercing South Carolina with a federal military force, one Nullifier boasted, "To reach us, the dagger must pass through others."111 Clay initially stood apart from the dispute. In fact, he left Washington as it was heating up, ostensibly to start James on his way to Boston. After sending James to Massachusetts, Clay tarried in Philadelphia at the home of friends. His absence from the capital was distressing to his allies. Many believed only Henry Clay could avert a clash between Jackson and the Nullifiers. As the days passed, Clay's protectiveness of the protectionist principle began to reemerge, and he finally resolved that South Carolina could not be allowed to bully the rest of the country, and Jackson must not be goaded into destroying it. He slowly roused himself to do something to save it. He was still in Philadelphia when he began drafting a modified tariff.112 When Clay returned to Washington, a sharp reduction of the tariff was already under debate in the House. Gulian Verplanck, chair of the House Ways and Means Committee, was its principal author. Verplanck, a New York intellectual descended from Dutch patroons, dabbled in literary criticism and displayed fierce political independence. He had broken with Jackson over the Bank, but the administration's desire to resolve the crisis with South Carolina had forced it to swallow hard and back Verplanck's tariff proposal. That bill would have reduced tariff rates immediately and within a year all but eliminated them as a protective measure for domestic manufactures. Not only would this have been a decisive blow to the American System, Clay feared it would cause manufacturing regions to consider disunion. He also believed the carrot of tariff reduction significantly weakened the stick of threatened force, an incongruity that confirmed rather than discredited nullification. Indeed, Jackson was tending toward wild contradictions with his policies that tried to balance states' rights, overawe Nullifiers, and placate Indian removal proponents. At the same time that the president was threatening to quash nullification with the army, he was supporting Georgia's defiance of the Supreme Court in its efforts to expel Cherokee Indians from the state. Given this muddled situation, Clay found it sensible to propose his own tariff. He did not like the Verplanck bill because it undermined protection, but it also had administration support, causing him to oppose it from reflex. The Nullification Crisis presented him with an opportunity to renew his opposition to the Jackson administration and to earn praise for saving the Union. He marshaled his allies.113 Jackson asked Congress to pass a Force Bill giving him authority to coerce tariff collection in South Carolina. Nullifiers were sporting revolutionary cockades and oiling firearms, but calmer South Carolinians were taking pause over the possibility of Charleston in ruins and federal soldiers in charge. The state indefinitely extended its February 1, 1833, deadline for abolishing the tariff, a major conciliation that showed a real desire for a compromise solution. In Washington, however, debates over the Force Bill brought tempers to such a pitch that many began to doubt that there was a solution to prevent Jackson's irresistible force from catastrophically meeting nullification's immovable object. Clay hastily weighed the chances for compromise, especially one undertaken against the active opposition of the administration. He did not have the votes.114 Worse, the emergency was making otherwise reliable friends behave unpredictably. Clay's longtime ally Daniel Webster was suddenly attending dinners at the White House, supporting the provocative Force Bill, and joining manufacturing-state legislators to oppose tariff reductions. As Clay frantically sought allies in the deteriorating situation, the emergency also had the effect of finally forming a coalition of the most unlikely bedfellows. Henry Clay and the nationalists joined with John C. Calhoun and his extreme states' rights faction. Although Calhoun's people much preferred the Verplanck tariff to anything Clay might propose, the administration's support of it made them reject it out of hand, for Calhoun was intent on depriving Jackson of any credit for solving this crisis. Webster's rebuff forced Clay's agents into conversations with Calhoun to arrange a meeting that some called Clay's "great leap across the Potomac." At odds for years and openly estranged since 1824, Clay and Calhoun at first sat in stilted silence, and once begun, their discussion proceeded in fits and starts. The possibility of federal bayonets flashing in Carolina, however, was a terrific incentive to let bygones, for a time, be bygones, and soon the two were making progress. Clay emerged from these discussions at last prepared to propose a compromise, because he was confident that Calhoun would support it. Clay could only pray that Calhoun would be enough.115 Meetings between moderate states' rights men and moderate tariff proponents worked out the details, and Clay took the measure of his odd assortment of allies to compose a bill. On February 11, as the Senate braced for another long and contentious debate over the Force Bill, Clay gained the floor and stood stock-still as the murmuring chatter in the chamber fell to a hush. He announced that he would present a formal compromise proposal the following day. He sat down. Debate proceeded, but there was a palpable change in the chamber, a sense of many releasing a nervous sigh, eyes closed, whispering to themselves, At last. At last.

Clay opened the day's business on February 12. His proposal was decidedly different and far more drastic than the one he had begun drafting in Philadelphia in December. His earlier plan had been to leave all current duties in place until 1840. After that year, tariffs would have ceased their protective function and only generated revenue. Clay explained this new plan for several hours. He would lower duties beginning in 1834. The rates currently over 20 percent would be gradually reduced over the next six years to bring all down to a 20 percent ceiling by 1840. They and any rates below the 20 percent cap would remain frozen for two additional years. After 1842, the tariff would exclusively raise revenue. Rather than the Verplanck bill's immediate reduction, gradual declines would allow manufacturers to prepare for disappearing protection.116 As Clay finished his presentation and asked "leave" to present his bill formally, administration supporters prepared to pounce, if only to keep Clay from gaining plaudits for breaking the impasse. Senator John Forsyth of Georgia objected to giving Clay "leave" to do anything, and Samuel Smith ground his axe from the clash the previous spring to lodge an objection as well. John Holmes of Maine exclaimed in frustration that never in his Senate career had he "heard an objection made to a motion of leave." Jacksonian senators glowered across the aisle, ready to gain the floor and join the orchestrated plan to block Clay at the outset, but the chair recognized Calhoun. The gallery watched the South Carolinian rise from his desk. Clay's eyes were on him, and the chamber fell suddenly silent, like a church in prayer. Calhoun slowly but firmly declared that he supported Clay's motion. Spectators in the gallery were not aware that the two had made an arrangement. Now, as Calhoun spoke, they heard his words in amazement and immediately exploded into loud cheers, stamping, whistling, and raising such a noise that only the threat of eviction caused the celebration to end. Clay had seized the momentum from the administration. As Calhoun took his seat, Clay's eyes were upon him.117 The work on compromise then began in earnest, and just as Clay suspected, the easy part of the process, while pleasantly dramatic, was over, and the difficult business of addressing specifics was just beginning. Clay was agreeably surprised that President Pro Tempore Hugh Lawson White appointed a congenial select committee to write the bill, made Clay its chairman, and resisted White House pressure to load it with administration supporters. Jackson and White were friends as well as fellow Tennesseans, but White was also highly principled and extremely alarmed over South Carolina's defiance and Jackson's promise of force. Not only did White ignore Jackson's directive, he appointed staunch Clay ally John Clayton and Clay's unexpected ally Calhoun to the committee. Jackson would never forgive White for this, but freed from exasperating obstructionism, the committee worked both swiftly and productively. It had to, because the Twenty-second Congress was due to adjourn on March 2.

Then Clayton tried to insert home valuation into the bill, and everything threatened to fall apart. Clayton wanted the value of imports to be set upon arrival in American ports rather than the usual practice of having valuation occur at the point of export. The change would not only give American customs officials control over the process, it would also mean higher tariff collections. Calhoun flatly said home valuation was unacceptable because it would raise the price of imports. He threatened to withdraw his support from the entire compromise, but Clayton was unyielding. Home valuation, he insisted, was the least Congress could do for manufacturers. Home valuation, insisted Calhoun, placed southern farmers in an even greater bind by jacking up prices in an overly protected market. Clayton lost the battle, for Calhoun was too valuable to be crossed, and the bill came out of committee without the offending proposal.118 Jackson refused to endorse the bill, but neither did he try to block it. In the end, he realized that Clay had lured all opponents, including him, into a game of brag in resolving this dispute. The apparent alliance between Clay and Calhoun, however fragile and opportunistic, also worried him. The most he could wring as a concession from Congress was the Force Bill, which Jackson insisted upon as the quid pro quo for Clay's tariff. Clay shrank from placing that power in the president's hands, but he also knew there was no point in cornering Andrew Jackson. Removing the tariff as a source of friction with South Carolina would eliminate the need for coercion, making the Force Bill wholly symbolic. Upon that rationale, Clay did not object to it as part of a compromise package.119 In the meantime, other predicaments arose quite unexpectedly. When the constitutional requirement that revenue measures must originate in the House troubled some senators, Clay coordinated a bit of procedural cunning that recalled his days as Speaker. He had the bill rushed over to Kentucky congressman Bob Letcher, who promptly gained the floor, ostensibly to propose an amendment to the Verplanck bill but actually to recommend replacing it with Clay's compromise. The House was sick of debating its bill and was visibly relieved to pass Clay's with a 119 to 85 vote. The bill hurtled back to the Senate. By then, night sessions had become the only way to complete the work, and it was late when the Force Bill came up for a vote. Clay rarely attended night sessions because the fumes from the Senate's oil lamps made it difficult to breathe, but other reasons probably had more to do with his absence during the Force Bill vote. He was always able to make the truthful, if technical, claim that he had supported the compromise tariff without actually voting for the Force Bill.

Clay thus emerged from the crisis as a friend to the South by reducing the tariff and not voting for the Force Bill. Calhoun had reason to dispute Clay's allegiance to southern interests, however. During the debates, Clay had waited for just the right moment to restore home valuation by way of an amendment. Calhoun sat smoldering, realizing that the wily Kentuckian had also lured him into a game of brag by waiting until the last minute to spring this change. Calhoun could either accept home valuation or scuttle the compromise and risk federal force in South Carolina. He ultimately voted for the tariff. As for Jackson, he signed both bills, though he made a point of signing the Force Bill first. Many southerners would never forget that bit of symbolism, and it immediately drove some from Jackson's camp. Time and circumstance would place them in Clay's, where they did not really belong philosophically and where they would eventually cause a great deal of confusion and trouble.120 Jackson did not sign a third piece of legislation from that congressional session. Clay had reintroduced his land revenue distribution bill in the Senate. As before, it proposed dividing revenue from the sale of public lands among the states according to population. In addition to providing money for state funding of internal improvements, Clay's distribution plan would have prevented surpluses in the federal Treasury, making a tariff indispensable in generating needed revenue. The measure again passed the Senate, and this time around, the House as well. The roughly simultaneous passage of distribution and the Compromise of 1833 made the former erroneously seem a third element, along with the tariff and the Force Bill, of the legislative parcel. More than a few consequently thought that Jackson was obligated to sign the distribution bill in return for the Force Bill, and Congress wearily adjourned the day after sending him the bills. Jackson signed the tariff and the Force Bill. He pocket vetoed distribution.121 It was a small victory for Old Hickory, but Clay's overall triumph was spectacular. Only four months earlier, he had lost the presidency in a humiliating landslide. Now he was being hailed as the nation's savior. A few die-hard protectionists were bitter about his compromise tariff, but he could counter that Verplanck's would have been worse. Jackson's support of the Verplanck tariff indicated a willingness to abandon protection and alienate voters in manufacturing regions. Clay's success also revived National Republican fortunes, while Jackson's behavior left many southerners disenchanted with him and distrustful of his presidential power. A strange and loose coalition of Jackson's old enemies and former friends grew out of the clashes over banking, the tariff, states' rights, Indian removal, and nullification. Divergent interests saw something larger than a mere broker in Henry Clay as he fashioned the Compromise of 1833. Collaboration rather than quarrels could succeed in preventing bloodshed and preserving the Union. It was not the final time the Union in crisis would nervously wait for him to take the floor, listen to him with eyes closed, and sigh in relief, At last. At last.122 ONE DAY IN mid-January, Clay had tried to lighten the mood in the Senate by introducing a petition from two fellow Kentuckians, Leonard Jones and Henry Banta. They were asking for a federal land grant "to extend and propagate their discovery" of eternal life. Jones and Banta, in fact, claimed they were living proof of that discovery. The Senate was already laughing as Clay admitted that he was presenting this petition to avoid risking its authors' "endless enmity," but as his colleagues and the gallery gradually realized his joke, the hilarity swelled, and even Clay's opponents had to shake their heads, smiling. He could pull off that sort of thing with a flawless delivery, the sonority of his voice making the absurd sound plausible. mid-January, Clay had tried to lighten the mood in the Senate by introducing a petition from two fellow Kentuckians, Leonard Jones and Henry Banta. They were asking for a federal land grant "to extend and propagate their discovery" of eternal life. Jones and Banta, in fact, claimed they were living proof of that discovery. The Senate was already laughing as Clay admitted that he was presenting this petition to avoid risking its authors' "endless enmity," but as his colleagues and the gallery gradually realized his joke, the hilarity swelled, and even Clay's opponents had to shake their heads, smiling. He could pull off that sort of thing with a flawless delivery, the sonority of his voice making the absurd sound plausible.123 Possibly John Randolph was there that day in the gallery. If so, he would have enjoyed the amusing scene. The years intervening between his duel with Clay and the winter of 1833 had been unkind to Randolph. In 1829, Old Hickory had sent him to Russia as U.S. minister, but his health soon forced him to come home. Dissipation and devolution became his principal companions as his incipient lunacy led to frequent episodes of outright madness. He was elected to the House of Representatives in 1833, but he was in wretched health. If Randolph saw the amusing scene about everlasting life, it would have been ironic. He was dying.

Friends on at least one occasion did bring Randolph to the Senate gallery, which in those days was situated on the Senate floor just behind the members' desks. Randolph looked ghastly and could only walk while grasping the arms of companions. He had resolved to leave Washington for England to restore his health, but he wanted to visit the Senate to "hear that voice once again." He was talking about Henry Clay.

Randolph had his companions prop him up so that he could see Clay as well as hear him. When Clay finished speaking, he walked from the rows of desks into the gallery and stood next to Randolph's chair. He quietly asked about Randolph's health, and Randolph squeaked that he was "a dying man." Clay laughed gently. The response was something of a Randolph trademark, a reply that for years had been his spontaneous retort to routine greetings. Randolph looked up at Clay and wheezed that he had come to the Senate just to see him, to hear him, one last time. Clay sat beside him and they spoke in low tones until Randolph motioned that he was tired and wanted to go. Clay took his hand. They did not need to say farewell to know it was good-bye.

Andrew Jackson's plan to coerce South Carolina appalled John Randolph because he saw it as infringing on states' rights. "There is one man, and one man only, who can save the Union-that man is Henry Clay," John Randolph said.124 The irreversible descent continued as he traveled to Philadelphia. He talked of his famous duel with Clay, repeating that he would never have done anything to cause Lucretia or her children pain. On the other hand, Randolph sadly noted that nobody would have particularly cared if Clay had killed him, a sentiment he had brooded over for years. That April night before the duel in 1826, James Hamilton had listened to John Randolph say he could not bear to think of Lucretia and the children crying over Clay's grave, "but when the sod of Virginia rests on my bosom, there is not one in this wide world, not one individual, to pay this tribute upon mine." The irreversible descent continued as he traveled to Philadelphia. He talked of his famous duel with Clay, repeating that he would never have done anything to cause Lucretia or her children pain. On the other hand, Randolph sadly noted that nobody would have particularly cared if Clay had killed him, a sentiment he had brooded over for years. That April night before the duel in 1826, James Hamilton had listened to John Randolph say he could not bear to think of Lucretia and the children crying over Clay's grave, "but when the sod of Virginia rests on my bosom, there is not one in this wide world, not one individual, to pay this tribute upon mine."125 John Randolph died in Philadelphia on May 24, 1833. There were no heirs. His physical deformity would have made them out of the question even if he had ever found someone to marry him. His principal legacy consequently consisted of a handful of colorful quotations, an eccentric allegiance to antique Republicanism, a reputation for mad dissipation and relentless self-destruction, and a vacated plantation with a darkened tumbledown house, its fields full of weeds, its slaves emancipated by a will that also funded their passage to the free states. In a way, a less obvious but no less important legacy was Henry Clay, the only man John Randolph believed could save the Union. Because Randolph had held his pistol skyward that April afternoon seven years earlier, the Western Star lived. Lucretia Clay and her children had not suffered. The Union was safe. That was something worth remembering, something noble and good to cherish, as Randolph heard "that voice" one last time.

CHAPTER NINE.

Whig CLAY'S RETURN TO Ashland in early April 1833 came not a moment too soon. He was emotionally and physically drained. Despite his fatigue, after only days he was thinking about a summer trip. Travel always invigorated him, and a northern journey would allow him to escape Lexington's summer heat. It would also afford the opportunity to visit political friends, though as always Clay wished to avoid the appearance of politicking. Instead, he framed his plans as recreational and intended to include as much family as could accompany him. Their destination was to be Boston to see James, who at sixteen and far from home was lonely. Yet Clay would quietly court support there for another effort to recharter the Bank in the upcoming Congress. The BUS had three years remaining on its charter, after all, which seemed plenty of time to change enough minds to make Jackson's objections immaterial. Ashland in early April 1833 came not a moment too soon. He was emotionally and physically drained. Despite his fatigue, after only days he was thinking about a summer trip. Travel always invigorated him, and a northern journey would allow him to escape Lexington's summer heat. It would also afford the opportunity to visit political friends, though as always Clay wished to avoid the appearance of politicking. Instead, he framed his plans as recreational and intended to include as much family as could accompany him. Their destination was to be Boston to see James, who at sixteen and far from home was lonely. Yet Clay would quietly court support there for another effort to recharter the Bank in the upcoming Congress. The BUS had three years remaining on its charter, after all, which seemed plenty of time to change enough minds to make Jackson's objections immaterial.1 That spring, however, cholera came to Kentucky and altered his plans. Called Asiatic cholera because of its origins on the Indian subcontinent, it began its inexorable spread in the early nineteenth century along trade routes to Russia, Western Europe, and England, achieving a global and deadly reach as a pandemic that claimed millions of lives a year. By 1832, it was in North America.2 Kentucky had been spared so far, but deaths in more populous places such as New Orleans and New York were sufficiently numerous to terrify the country. Jackson opposed an effort to set aside a day for "general humiliation and prayer" because he said it violated the separation of church and state, but most suspected that Clay rather than the Constitution was behind Jackson's stance. The Kentuckian had successfully promoted the move in the Senate.3 In 1833, cholera found Lexington, and many residents fled what quickly became a ghost town. Those who remained stopped venturing out. Stores closed, and larders went bare. Newspapers ceased publication, isolating Lexington from news of the outside world except for what could trickle in through the post office. The Erwins moved from the Woodlands to Ashland, where the entire family gathered as though under a medieval siege. In the first three days, fifty people died in Lexington. After two weeks, that number had swelled to 350, and by the time the epidemic ended, the town had lost almost 10 percent of its population. Ashland weathered the siege, fortunate in its relative isolation and access to untainted water. No one at Ashland, black or white, got sick.4 That spring, Clay did lose a dear friend, though not to cholera. At 5:00 A.M. A.M. on May 19, the on May 19, the Lioness, Lioness, a Red River steamboat, was forty miles above Alexandria, Louisiana, when crewmembers in the hold accidentally touched off a cargo of gunpowder with a candle. The explosion blew the boat apart and killed fifteen people, seven of them passengers. Josiah Johnston was traveling with his son on the a Red River steamboat, was forty miles above Alexandria, Louisiana, when crewmembers in the hold accidentally touched off a cargo of gunpowder with a candle. The explosion blew the boat apart and killed fifteen people, seven of them passengers. Josiah Johnston was traveling with his son on the Lioness Lioness to visit family, and though the boy survived, his father did not. Clay could hardly believe the news. Johnston had been a staunch friend from their earliest days in the House of Representatives, informally managing important aspects of Clay's 1824 bid for the presidency and loyally standing by him in its aftermath to become an invaluable supporter in the Senate. As one of Clay's "truest and best of friends," Johnston had been that rare entity in politics, the person who never wavered, was always sincere, and was invariably reliable. to visit family, and though the boy survived, his father did not. Clay could hardly believe the news. Johnston had been a staunch friend from their earliest days in the House of Representatives, informally managing important aspects of Clay's 1824 bid for the presidency and loyally standing by him in its aftermath to become an invaluable supporter in the Senate. As one of Clay's "truest and best of friends," Johnston had been that rare entity in politics, the person who never wavered, was always sincere, and was invariably reliable.5 Clay fretted about the fate of Johnston's widow, Eliza, a Washington belle noted for her "bewitching grace & dignity." Eliza had not made the trip with her husband, having just given birth to another son, Josiah Stoddert Johnston, Jr. For years, she had been mildly infatuated with Henry Clay, feelings he had always inferred but had treated as nothing more than the eye-batting flirtations common among coquettes at parties and in innocuous letters. Others were not so sure. Bob Letcher once remarked that if Clay were to die, Eliza Johnston would go into deep mourning. "She would most certainly devote the residue of her life to grief and melancholy," Letcher said, only half joking. For his part, Clay traded harmless verbal trifles with Eliza as he did with other belles such as Olivia Walton LeVert, some of them strikingly beautiful. It did not matter if they were pretty, though, for Clay enjoyed the game of gallantry in itself. He liked the company of women and personified the description of the gentleman as the man who winks at a homely girl. Winking at young widows, however, invited unseemly talk, and after offering traditional expressions of condolence, he had little contact with Eliza. Two years later, she moved into the enemy camp by marrying a confirmed Democrat, becoming Mrs. Henry D. Gilpin, her new husband destined to serve as Martin Van Buren's attorney general.6 THE LENGTHY QUARANTINE at Ashland canceled Clay's plans for his trip, and by the time he could again consider it, other events prevented the family from accompanying him. Both Anne Clay Erwin and Julia Prather Clay were expecting, and Lucretia wanted to be with them when the babies came. Clay understood, and he put off his departure until she could go with him. On July 20, Julia gave birth to Henry Clay III; but Clay must have been able to persuade Lucretia to leave before Anne's lying-in, because she, Johnny, and Henry Clay Duralde accompanied him when he left Ashland on September 26. Anne had still not delivered her baby, but if Clay intended to enjoy any political benefits from the trip, so often postponed, he had to get started. While Clay was trapped at Ashland, Jackson had spent the first part of the summer touring New England to court support in a National Republican stronghold. A few communities mildly protested the Bank veto, but mostly Jackson enjoyed a cordial reception. He was warmly greeted in Massachusetts, and Harvard made him an honorary doctor of laws, much to the chagrin of John Quincy Adams. More than ever, Clay believed his trip to the region was necessary. at Ashland canceled Clay's plans for his trip, and by the time he could again consider it, other events prevented the family from accompanying him. Both Anne Clay Erwin and Julia Prather Clay were expecting, and Lucretia wanted to be with them when the babies came. Clay understood, and he put off his departure until she could go with him. On July 20, Julia gave birth to Henry Clay III; but Clay must have been able to persuade Lucretia to leave before Anne's lying-in, because she, Johnny, and Henry Clay Duralde accompanied him when he left Ashland on September 26. Anne had still not delivered her baby, but if Clay intended to enjoy any political benefits from the trip, so often postponed, he had to get started. While Clay was trapped at Ashland, Jackson had spent the first part of the summer touring New England to court support in a National Republican stronghold. A few communities mildly protested the Bank veto, but mostly Jackson enjoyed a cordial reception. He was warmly greeted in Massachusetts, and Harvard made him an honorary doctor of laws, much to the chagrin of John Quincy Adams. More than ever, Clay believed his trip to the region was necessary.7 Both Clay and Lucretia likely regretted leaving when they did, however. Anne gave birth to a boy on October 2, but the baby died so quickly that he was never named. The traveling Clays did not receive the news until they were en route from Baltimore to Philadelphia, and their grief over the loss was mingled with relief when James Erwin reported that Anne was sad but safe. Clay was pleased that she would remain at the Woodlands rather than return to New Orleans for the winter.8 Political observers were mindful of the large, enthusiastic crowds Clay attracted throughout the journey to New England and were not in the least deceived by his insistence that he was merely on vacation. John Quincy Adams, already sour over ovations given to Jackson, grumbled that "the fashion of peddling for popularity ... is growing into high fashion." He acidly noted in his diary that "Mr. Clay has mounted that hobby often, and rides him very hard," but Adams routinely disparaged the success of others. Any objective assessment would have judged the trip a popular triumph.9 It was also productive. Clay met privately with influential people and mended some political fences. Rancorous relations had marred his association with Josiah Quincy for years, but Clay called on him anyway. Quincy, who as Harvard's president had been given the impossible task of reconciling Adams to Jackson's honorary degree, was intimately acquainted with Massachusetts' political establishment. Clay was charming and Quincy cordial throughout their meeting. On the other hand, Daniel Webster's absence during Clay's visit to Massachusetts caused talk of an irreparable rift, which had some merit. The two had recently exchanged friendly letters, but their sharp words during the tariff debate would forever place a wall between them.10 As he left New England for the opening of Congress, Clay could mark the undertaking as an overall success. Admirers on every leg of the trip had presented the Clays with gifts ranging from simple tokens to expensive livestock. Citizens of Newark, New Jersey, gave Clay a handsome carriage that became one of his most prized possessions. (It still resides in the carriage house at Ashland.) When the Clays arrived in Washington, however, news from Lexington was mildly distressing. Thomas had returned from a failed farming venture in Indiana and was drinking again. The asylum had tried to release Theodore for longer periods as a test of his stability, but Henry and Anne finally found their brother's moods too unpredictable and became apprehensive enough to arrange his renewed detention. The Clays rented a small house in Washington, and he tried to handle the crises through the mail, with limited success. He was also concerned about Lucretia. That winter, she always seemed to be ill, barely recovering from one ailment before falling prey to another. Already spare by nature, she began to lose weight, and his concern gradually gave way to alarm.11 AS THE TWENTY-THIRD Congress opened, National Republicans tried to counter another attack by President Jackson on the American System. Jackson correctly judged that BUS supporters were still aiming to renew its charter. Angry about Clay's receiving credit for the compromise tariff, especially in the South, Jackson intended to destroy the Bank before Clay had a chance to use that political capital to pass a new bank bill. The result was a series of events that continued the contentiousness of the veto, an episode known as the Bank War. Congress opened, National Republicans tried to counter another attack by President Jackson on the American System. Jackson correctly judged that BUS supporters were still aiming to renew its charter. Angry about Clay's receiving credit for the compromise tariff, especially in the South, Jackson intended to destroy the Bank before Clay had a chance to use that political capital to pass a new bank bill. The result was a series of events that continued the contentiousness of the veto, an episode known as the Bank War.12 Suspecting that Biddle would resort to anything to stave off the Bank's impending demise, even manipulating credit to the country's detriment, Jackson looked for ways to hobble the Bank and settled on removing its federal deposits. At first, he considered stopping deposits while steadily reducing government money held in BUS vaults by using it to discharge the government's routine expenses. Slowly drawing off the government's funds would not only debilitate the bank's power, it would guarantee its end when its charter expired in 1836. The plan was long in the hatching, and Jackson began discussing it with Vice President Van Buren, his cabinet, and other advisers shortly after his second inauguration. He dismissed out of hand the recent congressional investigation that pronounced the Bank a sound, efficient financial institution. Amos Kendall had always been able to read the signs that indicated Jackson was closing his mind on an issue. "Little is gained by attempting to manage the old man," he once said. This was one of those times.13 If anything, Kendall and Francis Preston Blair urged an immediate rather than a gradual withdrawal of federal funds. Van Buren, however, persisted in the recommendation that any such move be measured, fearing that cornering Biddle would self-fulfill Jackson's prophecy by goading him into contracting credit. In any case, removing the deposits was easier said than done. The BUS charter stipulated that only the Treasury secretary had authority to withdraw money from the bank, and Louis McLane doubted that doing so was legal before the charter expired. When Jackson appointed McLane secretary of state, it was a fortunate move for him, because his opinion would have put him at odds with the president, never a prudent position for someone in Jackson's cabinet. Jackson chose William Duane to succeed McLane at Treasury in part because he was a vocal critic of the Bank and presumably agreeable to the removal of federal deposits, but Jackson made the irritating discovery that Duane had the same reservations as McLane. By the time he returned from New England that summer, Jackson had decided on immediate withdrawal and wanted the process completed before Congress convened in early December. When Duane resisted, Jackson asked for his resignation. Duane refused, his defiance resting on the traditional view of cabinet ministers as more councilors than subalterns. Jackson promptly fired him. Attorney General Roger B. Taney, a staunch opponent of the Bank and among those eager to remove its federal money, became the new Treasury secretary. Federal funds from that time forward were placed in several dozen state institutions, soon dubbed "Pet Banks" by administration critics because they were apparently being rewarded for supporting Jackson. Biddle soon fired back. Losing the federal deposits forced him to retrench, but he gratuitously called in such a large number of loans that he inadvertently validated the Jacksonian denunciation of the BUS as too powerful and hopelessly corrupt.14 National Republicans were livid over these developments, but the drastic steps shocked many Democrats as well. Clay came into the Senate in December spoiling for a fight and soon got several. Not only was Jackson destroying the BUS, he launched an attack on distribution with a blistering denunciation of Clay's land bill that he had pocket vetoed the previous spring. Clay was undeterred on both fronts. He planned to reintroduce distribution and began organizing opponents of the administration to counter its policy on federal deposits. His most innovative tactic in that regard was the fight to wrest from Vice President Martin Van Buren the authority to appoint Senate committee members and designate their chairmen. By a 22 to 18 vote, the Senate changed its rule to allow members to select committees. That the administration was stripped of this seminal power did not bode well for Jackson's policies in the Senate.15 Clay immediately used his growing momentum to challenge the administration's assault on the BUS. A rumor that in September 1833 Jackson had read a justification for removing the deposits to his cabinet caused a stir, and Clay demanded that the president produce that document. Jackson sternly refused, claiming executive privilege. Clay had expected as much and would have moved more quickly to his next tactic except that he wanted to wait for a few absent senators to arrive in Washington. He was also worried that Webster's misplaced loyalties on display in the previous Congress might still be in force to make him friendly toward the administration. By Christmas, his worries over Webster were allayed. Not only was "the Godlike Dan'l" repelled by Jackson's executive overreach, Biddle had put him on an Olympian retainer. Webster's loyalties were misplaced no more.16 Clay was careful but also bold, for he intended to pursue an audacious course. On December 26, he stood in the Senate to read a series of startling resolutions. They urged the censure of Jackson for exceeding his authority and the reprimand of Taney for removing the deposits. Clay's concern over the economic consequences of Jackson's actions was second only to his dismay over the broader issue of executive usurpation. He regarded Jackson's effort to destroy a congressionally sanctioned agency as disgraceful and dangerous, regardless of when that agency's charter would expire. He also disputed Jackson's right to fire a Senate-confirmed department head simply because that man had refused to break the law.17 Jackson's use of the veto, his corruption of the civil service with the Spoils System, and his attempt to grasp all government money imperiled "the very existence of Liberty." Jackson's use of the veto, his corruption of the civil service with the Spoils System, and his attempt to grasp all government money imperiled "the very existence of Liberty."18 Clay spoke on these issues for two full days in late December, exploring in every possible way how Jackson had seized power, violated the Constitution, and trampled the laws of the nation. He compared Jackson to Caesar and Duane to the tribune Metellus, whom that earlier despot had also dismissed simply for enforcing the law. He warned that if this new despotism took root in their equally vulnerable republic, Congress would "die-ignobly die," its members reduced to "base, mean, abject slaves." They would earn "the scorn and contempt of mankind" and would die "unpitied, unwept, unmourned!" Spectators in the gallery hung on every word as Clay's baritone drew each word in a steady cadence and rose in a dramatic crescendo. Instantly upon his last syllable, they erupted into such loud cheers and applause that Van Buren ordered them removed. The censure fight was on, however, to consume the next three months with arguments, counterarguments, and much invective. Clay became a dynamo of debate, speaking more than sixty times to defend his resolutions and repeat his warnings. Friends cautioned that Jackson partisans might physically assault him. "The scoundrels dare not approach me," he growled. "Their assassination is of character, not of persons."19 Administration men such as Benton and Felix Grundy defended Jackson's actions, and Jacksonian newspapers ginned up popular prejudice against the patrician Biddle and his hydra-headed monster of corruption. Clay and his allies presented petitions from citizens begging for a return of the deposits and the recharter of the Bank. Each side accused the other of causing the country's growing economic distress, but neither offered real solutions. Everyone preferred to make speeches.20 Jacksonians had a majority in the House, but Clay had the votes in the Senate, where members who were not pro-Bank deemed Jackson's removal of the deposits irresponsible. There, all Jackson's minions could do about censure was delay it. After defending Jackson's conduct proved ineffective, they resorted to technicalities, arguing that the Constitution did not give the Senate power to censure the executive. If National Republicans thought that Jackson had broken the law, they should introduce articles of impeachment in the House. Clay would not take that bait. The last place he wanted to pass judgment on Jackson's conduct was the pro-Jackson House of Representatives. He continued to push for a vote in the Senate.21 On March 7, Webster endorsed a petition from Philadelphia mechanics decrying the failing economy, and Clay concurred. Obviously playing to the gallery, he made a dramatic appeal to Van Buren, who sat placidly presiding at the front of the Senate. Clay turned toward the vice president and affected an air of anxiety. "If I shall have been successful in touching your heart, and exciting in you a glow of patriotism, I shall be most happy," Clay entreated. "You can prevail upon the President to abandon his ruinous course, and, if you will exert the influence which you possess, you will command the thanks and plaudits of a grateful people." Clay sat down, and the chamber fell into a surprised hush as Van Buren rose from the dais, stepped down, and slowly walked toward Clay's desk. The Little Magician nonchalantly asked him if he might have a pinch of Clay's fine snuff. Clay nodded; his half smile revealed that he, and possibly he alone, understood Van Buren's gamesmanship. The vice president helped himself and wandered slowly back to his chair.22 As the Senate neared the moment of decision on censure, Clay's relations with the vice president took on an uncharacteristically serious tone. Van Buren proposed a wager of "a suit of clothes" on the New York and Virginia state elections. Clay replied that if those states approved of Jackson's behavior at the polls, it would mean "that our experiment of free government had failed; that he [Van Buren] would probably be elected the successor of Jackson; that he would introduce a system of intrigue and corruption that would enable him to designate his successor; and that after a few years," the government would "end in dissolution of the Union or in despotism." Van Buren cackled at what he called a preposterously "morbid" set of predictions, but Clay was quite serious. He "replied, with good nature" that he "deliberately and sincerely believed" what he had said.23 On March 28, the Senate voted 26 to 20 to censure Jackson for exceeding his authority in removing the deposits and 28 to 18 to condemn Taney for doing Jackson's bidding without appropriate cause.24 The longest debate in the Senate up to that time accomplished nothing but Andrew Jackson's embarrassment. The censure did nothing to restore the deposits, and later resolutions instructing Jackson to put them back were useless. Clay won this battle, but Jackson won the war. The longest debate in the Senate up to that time accomplished nothing but Andrew Jackson's embarrassment. The censure did nothing to restore the deposits, and later resolutions instructing Jackson to put them back were useless. Clay won this battle, but Jackson won the war.

Rather than saving the BUS, Clay made Jackson's behavior an issue to unite Jackson's opponents. Accomplishing that goal, if only temporarily, was no small achievement. Many who voted to censure Jackson would never vote to recharter the BUS or support Clay's American System, but they could at least agree that Andrew Jackson was dangerous. In a speech to the Senate on April 14, 1834, Clay likened the opposition to Jackson to British Whigs' opposing the dictatorial policies of their king.25 Clay was not the first to call Jackson's antagonists Whigs, but his use of the label in this speech struck a chord because of the growing impression that the Democrat Old Hickory was becoming "King Andrew." This loose coalition of allies would henceforth be called Whigs. Clay was not the first to call Jackson's antagonists Whigs, but his use of the label in this speech struck a chord because of the growing impression that the Democrat Old Hickory was becoming "King Andrew." This loose coalition of allies would henceforth be called Whigs.

Calling themselves Whigs instead of National Republicans made it easier to attract southerners to their ranks. National Republicans were associated with northeastern business interests, but Whigs could claim a pedigree that stretched back to the American Revolution to describe patriots fighting the abuses of the British crown. A few southern states' righters had already compared their resistance to growing federal power under Jackson to that revolutionary struggle and had begun calling themselves Whigs. Southern and northern opponents of the administration thus achieved unity under this newest old appellation. The second American party system was aborning.26 Clay and Martin Van Buren had always gotten along and often traded good-natured banter at social occasions. One story had Van Buren presiding over a state dinner attended by foreign diplomats and members of Congress. In the course of the lively conversation, everyone agreed that British Tory governments could be more flexible toward the United States because, unlike Whigs, Tories did not have to dodge accusations that republics beguiled them. Clay turned quickly to Van Buren and asked permission to propose a toast. Van Buren told all to charge their glasses. Clay stood, his wineglass raised, and called out, "Tory ministries in England and France, and a Whig ministry Whig ministry in the U[nited] States." Everyone laughed, but Van Buren appeared ill at ease. Clay later recalled that poor Van Buren "had no tact in warding off a sally or joke." in the U[nited] States." Everyone laughed, but Van Buren appeared ill at ease. Clay later recalled that poor Van Buren "had no tact in warding off a sally or joke."27 THE CENSURE ENRAGED Jackson. He fired off protests to the Senate, claiming that it, rather than he, had violated the Constitution by presuming the power to censure the president. Clay was dizzy over his victory and chortled that Jackson should quite literally have his head examined: he suggested that Jackson consult with phrenologists (so-called scientists who claimed the shape of the head revealed character traits) who would "find the organ of destructiveness prominently developed." Clay's tongue carried him so far as to have him injudiciously declare that the president's protest would be "the last stroke upon the last nail driven into the coffin," and then he realized what he was saying and stopped himself to add quickly, "not of Jackson, may he live a thousand years!-but of Jacksonism." The Senate voted 27 to 16 to reject Jackson's protest. For the next two years, vindication was the principal goal of the administration. Jackson was resolved that he would not be denied it. Jackson. He fired off protests to the Senate, claiming that it, rather than he, had violated the Constitution by presuming the power to censure the president. Clay was dizzy over his victory and chortled that Jackson should quite literally have his head examined: he suggested that Jackson consult with phrenologists (so-called scientists who claimed the shape of the head revealed character traits) who would "find the organ of destructiveness prominently developed." Clay's tongue carried him so far as to have him injudiciously declare that the president's protest would be "the last stroke upon the last nail driven into the coffin," and then he realized what he was saying and stopped himself to add quickly, "not of Jackson, may he live a thousand years!-but of Jacksonism." The Senate voted 27 to 16 to reject Jackson's protest. For the next two years, vindication was the principal goal of the administration. Jackson was resolved that he would not be denied it.28 Congress adjourned not a moment too soon, for Clay had grown tired and testy, even with his friends. One night he had Benjamin Watkins Leigh, Robert Letcher, and John M. Clayton to his rooms to discuss a draft of a distribution bill. A nice supper, a bottle of wine, and a crackling fire soon had his guests nodding off while Clay read the bill aloud. He continued, oblivious to his dozing audience until Letcher started snoring. Clay's voice boomed in an expletive-laden reproach that awoke everybody. "Old Jackson himself was never in a greater passion," chuckled Clayton, "nor ever stormed louder."29 Clay was alone at the close of the session because he sent Lucretia to White Sulphur Springs in the hope that the waters would restore her health. Lucretia was obviously cheerful about leaving Washington, but everybody could see that there was something physically wrong with her. Clay had watched her waste away over the winter as her appetite vanished and she had shed so many pounds that her slight frame had become skin and bones.30 The stay at the Springs made no difference, and Lucretia became so weak after returning to Ashland that Clay feared she would die. He did not travel that summer because he refused to "separate myself from her." No doctor could make a credible diagnosis, and no treatment could revive her appetite. Then in late summer she showed a gradually improving interest in food and began taking nourishment. In the fall, her weight loss stabilized and then reversed itself. A flood of relief swept over the entire family, especially Lucretia's husband. Nobody could ever say what was wrong with Lucretia Clay for most of 1834, but her chronic dyspepsia and appetite loss suggest that she of the calm demeanor but turbulent heart had worried herself into an ulcer. At the haven of Ashland, she mended and was soon herself again.

As things returned to normal at Ashland, Clay arranged to send thirteen-year-old John Morrison Clay to a college preparatory school at Princeton, New Jersey, an establishment he found promising enough to warrant the enrollment of the Duralde boys the following year. James, who had come home to go back to school, soon proved an indolent student, however, and decided a radical change was in order. Clay reluctantly consented to his plan to become a farmer in Missouri. Clay provided the land, but he suspected the venture was an ill-advised project for an eighteen-year-old who had so far shown little direction or purpose in life.31 RESULTS FROM ELECTIONS held in late summer and early fall were mixed. Whigs made gains in western states such as Kentucky and Ohio and in parts of the South, and Jackson had to exert pressure even in Tennessee to bring followers into line. But Whigs were disappointed by Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Clay rightly worried that his new coalition was still too fragmented. An apparent alliance with extreme states' righters like Calhoun was brittle at best. They recoiled from the American System. Calhoun never saw himself as a Whig. held in late summer and early fall were mixed. Whigs made gains in western states such as Kentucky and Ohio and in parts of the South, and Jackson had to exert pressure even in Tennessee to bring followers into line. But Whigs were disappointed by Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Clay rightly worried that his new coalition was still too fragmented. An apparent alliance with extreme states' righters like Calhoun was brittle at best. They recoiled from the American System. Calhoun never saw himself as a Whig.32 The shaky coalition meant that Clay could never count on a reliable base to support his programs, and for the rest of Jackson's presidency he was on the defensive. The victory scored with the censure proved fleeting. Senators might oppose Jackson on any number of issues, but they did not necessarily agree with Clay. He strained to produce a compromise that would satisfy nationalists and states' righters, hoping his plan to distribute federal land revenues to the states would be sufficient for nationalists and palatable to southerners. Yet even his friends showed little enthusiasm for the idea.33 In addition, it seemed that Jackson was on the verge of going to war with France over its delinquent depredation claims. As chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, Clay took under advisement the part of the president's annual message that dealt with deteriorating Franco-American relations.34 He knew the particulars of the dispute all too well, for it had troubled his tenure at State, one of the several unresolved problems he had handed off to Van Buren. Unlike the British trade issue, the French nut remained impossible to crack. Arbitrators had declared that France owed the United States money, and France had signed a treaty agreeing to pay, but the French dithered and then hinted that they might just forget the entire matter. Jackson's impatience turning to anger bubbled up in his annual message with threatened reprisals against French property and a request for additional discretionary funds to beef up the military. The implication was clear. He knew the particulars of the dispute all too well, for it had troubled his tenure at State, one of the several unresolved problems he had handed off to Van Buren. Unlike the British trade issue, the French nut remained impossible to crack. Arbitrators had declared that France owed the United States money, and France had signed a treaty agreeing to pay, but the French dithered and then hinted that they might just forget the entire matter. Jackson's impatience turning to anger bubbled up in his annual message with threatened reprisals against French property and a request for additional discretionary funds to beef up the military. The implication was clear.35 Clay criticized Jackson's belligerence and opposed giving him any money, but the stand seemed more partisan than scrupulous. As secretary of state, Clay had made similarly aggressive recommendations to Adams, who had prudently disregarded them. To Clay's relief, much of the Senate, including many Democrats, chose to respond with similar caution to Jackson's rattling saber.36 Instead of endorsing Jackson's call for reprisals, Clay's committee recommended a policy of wait-and-see. If the French continued their noncooperation, then would be the time to consider retaliation. Later in the session, Clay used his influence in the House of Representatives to kill a measure that would have given Jackson $3 million in discretionary funds. Aside from the unprecedented grant of unfettered money, Clay argued that giving it to Jackson would make it appear as though the country were preparing for war. In his experience, he observed with unintended irony, such preparations often caused a rush to war. Instead of endorsing Jackson's call for reprisals, Clay's committee recommended a policy of wait-and-see. If the French continued their noncooperation, then would be the time to consider retaliation. Later in the session, Clay used his influence in the House of Representatives to kill a measure that would have given Jackson $3 million in discretionary funds. Aside from the unprecedented grant of unfettered money, Clay argued that giving it to Jackson would make it appear as though the country were preparing for war. In his experience, he observed with unintended irony, such preparations often caused a rush to war.37 When Congress adjourned, Clay hoped Jackson would be unable "to goad his party into war" before it met again. When Congress adjourned, Clay hoped Jackson would be unable "to goad his party into war" before it met again.38 CLAY HAD LITTLE desire to return to Congress that fall. desire to return to Congress that fall.39 The prospect of renewed arguments about France, the fight over distribution, the unflagging Democrat effort to expunge the 1834 Senate censure, all made him weary. As the presidential election year of 1836 loomed, Whigs appeared in complete disarray as they tried to choose a candidate to run against Jackson's handpicked successor, Martin Van Buren. Clay also had personal reasons for delaying his departure for Washington. On November 2, Anne gave birth to her fourth son, Charles Edward Erwin, at the Woodlands. It marked the end of her eighth pregnancy in twelve years of marriage, but something was different about this one. The baby was healthy, but she was not. Instead of bouncing back quickly as she had always done in the past, she became quite ill and could not leave her bed. Her condition did not improve in the days after the baby's birth, and everyone soon became desperate with worry. Clay had planned to travel to Princeton to visit John and the Duralde boys at their boarding school, a detour that would require an early departure if he were to arrive in Washington in time for the opening of Congress. He nevertheless delayed his trip while Anne remained in any danger. By mid-November, though, she was clearly mending, and the scare passed. Clay began his trip on November 18, but he had forebodings. The next day he wrote Lucretia from Maysville that he felt "very uneasy about our dear daughter." The prospect of renewed arguments about France, the fight over distribution, the unflagging Democrat effort to expunge the 1834 Senate censure, all made him weary. As the presidential election year of 1836 loomed, Whigs appeared in complete disarray as they tried to choose a candidate to run against Jackson's handpicked successor, Martin Van Buren. Clay also had personal reasons for delaying his departure for Washington. On November 2, Anne gave birth to her fourth son, Charles Edward Erwin, at the Woodlands. It marked the end of her eighth pregnancy in twelve years of marriage, but something was different about this one. The baby was healthy, but she was not. Instead of bouncing back quickly as she had always done in the past, she became quite ill and could not leave her bed. Her condition did not improve in the days after the baby's birth, and everyone soon became desperate with worry. Clay had planned to travel to Princeton to visit John and the Duralde boys at their boarding school, a detour that would require an early departure if he were to arrive in Washington in time for the opening of Congress. He nevertheless delayed his trip while Anne remained in any danger. By mid-November, though, she was clearly mending, and the scare passed. Clay began his trip on November 18, but he had forebodings. The next day he wrote Lucretia from Maysville that he felt "very uneasy about our dear daughter."40 Clay swung through New Jersey to visit the boys and then made his way to Washington, arriving with a bad cold in the second week of December. His friend John J. Crittenden was joining him in the Senate for the Twenty-fourth Congress and had left Kentucky later than Clay. Crittenden reassured him that the doctors had declared Anne out of danger. Clay remained uneasy, however, and confided as much to Lucretia. She was the only person to whom he could unburden himself, and across the miles, he revealed his deepest fear: "Our only daughter, and so good a daughter-there is no event that would so entirely overwhelm us as that of her loss." The next day he begged James Erwin for the latest news. A letter in Anne's own hand telling him she was better would be best. Despite his premonitions, Clay received a steady stream of good news from home, and gradually he relaxed enough to turn his attention to politics.41 It was late in the afternoon of December 18. The Senate had adjourned for the day, and Clay lounged at his desk in the chamber laughing and talking with several friends. A clerk brought in the day's mail. Clay shuffled through his stack looking for letters from home. There were two. He lit up while reading the first, a cheerful account of Anne's steady improvement. Her recovery was advancing so rapidly, in fact, that she planned to return with James to New Orleans in only a few weeks. Clay picked up the other letter. It was from Kentucky's Episcopal bishop, Benjamin Bosworth Smith. Clay's friends, talking among themselves, were startled to hear him seem to choke. His face had turned ashen. He tried to stand, but the room whirled and his legs buckled. His colleagues caught him as dead weight. As he opened his eyes, he quietly murmured, "Every tie to life is broken." Anne had died suddenly on December 10.42 Clay went into seclusion at his boardinghouse. He poured out his grief in a letter to Lucretia: "Alas! my dear wife, the great Destroyer has come." He "would have submitted, cheerfully submitted, to a thousand deaths to have saved this dear child. She was so good, so beloving, and so beloved, so happy, and so deserving to be happy ... the last of six dear daughters." He could never recover from this loss. "One of the strongest tyes [sic] that bound me to Earth is broken-forever broken. My heart will bleed as long as it palpitates. Never, never can its wounds be healed." He could not stop weeping. "This dear child was so entwined around my heart; I looked forward to so many days of comfort and happiness in her company." He begged Lucretia to "kiss my dear grandchildren for your affectionate and afflicted husband."43 Losing Anne gutted Henry Clay. Indeed, losing Anne devastated every Clay from Princeton to Missouri. James Erwin could not bear to remain at places that reminded him of her, and he fled the Woodlands immediately after her funeral. He took the two older boys with him, but the younger children, including the baby, remained with Lucretia. James Clay was in Missouri starting his farm when he received the sad letter announcing the death of his "last sister." Henry Jr. had taken Julia and the children on a European tour and for a long time remained blissfully unaware of Anne's death. Fourteen-year-old John at school in New Jersey wrote poignant letters to his mother that also turned out to be prophetic. Reflecting on "how much the death of my poor sister should humble us all," he told his mother to be kind but firm with Anne's children, certain from his own experience that the kindness would be abundant, the firmness only occasional.44 "Borne down by the severest affliction with which Providence has ever been pleased to visit" him, Clay stayed in his rooms until he nearly went mad. He finally returned to the Senate-he reintroduced his distribution bill-but everyone was startled at how broken he was. Otherwise, he kept to himself and wrote home frequently. He confided in Lucretia about his crushed spirit; he admonished Thomas not to add to her burdens. She was certainly busy caring for three small children, one an infant, her little girl's last laughing gift to the world. In their small faces, Lucretia could see Anne.45 ONLY SUPERHUMAN WILL saw Henry Clay through the weeks that followed. He became fixated on passing the distribution bill, particularly because he saw its success as tied to the humanitarian project of colonizing freed slaves. Slave states could use the money to implement a different sort of internal improvement. Rather than building roads, they could fund gradual emancipation. Clay remained convinced that only that process could persuade slaveholders to eradicate the institution, and colonization would shield freed slaves from mistreatment. On this issue too he embraced the center, publicly declaring the immorality of slavery while trying to find the compromise that would appeal to fellow moderates. He did not believe that the federal government had the constitutional authority to interfere with slavery in the states, but he recognized Congress's right to abolish slavery in Washington, D.C., and federal territories, though he did not believe it should do so. To his thinking, the Missouri Compromise had settled the territorial issue. Because Maryland had ceded the land for the District of Columbia, to abolish slavery there without the consent of Maryland, as well as bordering Virginia, would be inappropriate. Washington's citizens should also have a say in the matter. saw Henry Clay through the weeks that followed. He became fixated on passing the distribution bill, particularly because he saw its success as tied to the humanitarian project of colonizing freed slaves. Slave states could use the money to implement a different sort of internal improvement. Rather than building roads, they could fund gradual emancipation. Clay remained convinced that only that process could persuade slaveholders to eradicate the institution, and colonization would shield freed slaves from mistreatment. On this issue too he embraced the center, publicly declaring the immorality of slavery while trying to find the compromise that would appeal to fellow moderates. He did not believe that the federal government had the constitutional authority to interfere with slavery in the states, but he recognized Congress's right to abolish slavery in Washington, D.C., and federal territories, though he did not believe it should do so. To his thinking, the Missouri Compromise had settled the territorial issue. Because Maryland had ceded the land for the District of Columbia, to abolish slavery there without the consent of Maryland, as well as bordering Virginia, would be inappropriate. Washington's citizens should also have a say in the matter.46 Extremism on slavery alarmed Clay. Calhoun had actually begun a crusade to have the Senate automatically table any petition requesting the abolition of slavery in the District of Columbia, a move that ultimately resulted in the derisively labeled "Gag Rule." Calhoun also wanted to prevent the post office from delivering abolitionist material in the South. Both initiatives disgusted Clay as obviously counter to constitutional protections regarding the right of redress and free speech. Agitation for or against slavery sharpened sectional differences to a cutting edge capable of cleaving the Union while making moderate solutions increasingly unlikely. Abolitionists generally denounced colonization, and southern proslavery advocates were wary of it, but Clay continued to insist that it was the only reasonable way to end slavery. He supported the American Colonization Society and became its president in 1836.47 In the spring of 1836, Texas won its independence from Mexico. American immigrants in Texas had staged the revolution, and it was rather a foregone conclusion among them that American annexation would automatically follow Texas independence. Despite his satisfaction with the event, Jackson paused in his response. The administration was in the midst of a dispute with Mexico over American claims, but more important, Americans were deeply divided over the wisdom of adding the vast slave domain of Texas to the Union. Jackson even preferred to leave to Congress the decision about recognizing Texas as a sovereign republic. In the early summer of 1836, Congress debated that question and laid bare northern qualms about recognition as a step toward annexation.48 Clay presented the Senate Foreign Relations Committee's report in June 1836 that recommended recognizing Texas when the president judged its government to be stable.49 On the other hand, southern agitation for annexation-an obvious ploy to add new slave territory to the Union and increase the South's political clout-disturbed Clay. Not until the end of his term did Jackson recognize Texas. Old Hickory left it up to a future administration to decide about annexation. On the other hand, southern agitation for annexation-an obvious ploy to add new slave territory to the Union and increase the South's political clout-disturbed Clay. Not until the end of his term did Jackson recognize Texas. Old Hickory left it up to a future administration to decide about annexation.50 DURING THE WINTER of 183536, politics increasingly revolved around the upcoming presidential election. Democrats had already held a convention the previous spring to rubber-stamp Jackson's choice of Martin Van Buren. Democrats appeared to be united behind Van Buren, but significant issues-such as monetary policy-actually divided them. When a group of New York laborers who opposed the Pet Banks' inflationary policies tried to air grievances at a Democratic meeting in Tammany Hall on October 29, 1835, conservatives shut down the gaslights, hoping that darkness would silence the protests. Instead, the dissidents continued the meeting by striking matches called "loco focos." Whigs soon began calling all Democrats "Locofocos." The label had a nicely disparaging ring to it. of 183536, politics increasingly revolved around the upcoming presidential election. Democrats had already held a convention the previous spring to rubber-stamp Jackson's choice of Martin Van Buren. Democrats appeared to be united behind Van Buren, but significant issues-such as monetary policy-actually divided them. When a group of New York laborers who opposed the Pet Banks' inflationary policies tried to air grievances at a Democratic meeting in Tammany Hall on October 29, 1835, conservatives shut down the gaslights, hoping that darkness would silence the protests. Instead, the dissidents continued the meeting by striking matches called "loco focos." Whigs soon began calling all Democrats "Locofocos." The label had a nicely disparaging ring to it.51 Democrat disunity, however, paled compared to Whig disarray, a symptom of that loose coalition so worrisome to Clay. Unable to unite on issues or on a single candidate, Whigs had resorted to running three regional candidates in an effort to appeal to distinctive constituencies. Clay initially thought the plan laughable. If every faction of a party insisted that a candidate perfectly fit its principles, "there can be no union or harmony."52 Yet that is what had happened. Northeastern Whigs supported Daniel Webster, northwestern Whigs supported William Henry Harrison, and southern Whigs supported the former Jacksonian Hugh Lawson White. In the midst of this willy-nilly stumble, Clay was occasionally urged by his friends to run, but even before Anne's death he had had no heart for the race and certainly had none for it after December 1835. The best the Whigs could hope for was that the multicandidate approach would fragment the Electoral College and throw the question into the House of Representatives. Yet that is what had happened. Northeastern Whigs supported Daniel Webster, northwestern Whigs supported William Henry Harrison, and southern Whigs supported the former Jacksonian Hugh Lawson White. In the midst of this willy-nilly stumble, Clay was occasionally urged by his friends to run, but even before Anne's death he had had no heart for the race and certainly had none for it after December 1835. The best the Whigs could hope for was that the multicandidate approach would fragment the Electoral College and throw the question into the House of Representatives.53 Clay attempted to remain aloof from the election while nevertheless supporting the Whig cause. He preferred Webster for best exemplifying Whig principles. Despite Clay's patronage of William Henry Harrison during the military hero's early political career, he had come to see Harrison as vain, posturing, dim-witted, and unqualified for the presidency. Clay liked Hugh Lawson White but accurately assessed him as more inclined toward states' rights than a nationalist program. To his consternation, though, it gradually became apparent that Harrison was the most popular and consequently the most electable of the three.54 Because he so wanted to see the Democrats defeated, Clay set aside his low opinion of Harrison and endorsed him. Ordinarily Harrison's flaws would have made more compelling the entreaties from Clay's friends that he should enter the contest. Yet Clay was unmovable. Even had Anne lived, the humiliation from 1832 was still too fresh for him to risk another such embarrassment this soon. He insisted that he could not accept a nomination unless he was certain that the people wanted him. There did not appear to be such a groundswell for his candidacy.55 By removing himself from the contest, this consummate political animal appeared to have lost interest in not just politics but life. He certainly hoped Whigs would prevail and had forebodings for the country should Van Buren win, but his old fire was gone, his heart a fading ember.

His overwhelming grief over Anne's death never really subsided, and other concerns mounted as well. In New Jersey, John was miserable-neither the prep school nor Princeton had agreed with him-and wanted to come home. He also became quite ill with typhoid fever while visiting Clay in Washington during the late spring of 1836. For two weeks, Clay and Charles Dupuy took shifts to watch over John each night, and a female nurse spelled them during the day while Clay was in the Senate. Henry Jr. arrived from Europe and immediately pitched in as well, and to everyone's relief, John began to improve. He gradually recovered from his dangerous illness, but he wanted to be at Ashland. Lucretia, discovering how dangerously ill her youngest child had been at the worst of his ordeal, never again wanted him far from her side. She soon had her baby boy home.56 CLAY FINALLY DECIDED to retire from public life and dedicate his remaining years to his family and farm. His letters were steeped in resignation and inclined to despair. All his efforts to stop Jackson from destroying the American System had been futile. The conflict with France still hung fire, and Clay suspected that Jackson wanted war if for no other reason than to spend the growing surplus and doom Clay's hope of distributing it to the states. He was pleasantly surprised to be wrong about this at least. Jackson never apologized for his earlier belligerence, but he did declare that when he had threatened France, he had not meant to threaten France. The French realized that that was as good as it was going to get with Andrew Jackson and paid the claims. There was no war, and the surplus was preserved. to retire from public life and dedicate his remaining years to his family and farm. His letters were steeped in resignation and inclined to despair. All his efforts to stop Jackson from destroying the American System had been futile. The conflict with France still hung fire, and Clay suspected that Jackson wanted war if for no other reason than to spend the growing surplus and doom Clay's hope of distributing it to the states. He was pleasantly surprised to be wrong about this at least. Jackson never apologized for his earlier belligerence, but he did declare that when he had threatened France, he had not meant to threaten France. The French realized that that was as good as it was going to get with Andrew Jackson and paid the claims. There was no war, and the surplus was preserved.57 Clay still hoped to distribute that money to the states for internal improvements and colonization. Widespread support for distribution included some Democrats under political pressure from constituents eager to receive the money. Yet western senators persisted in their wish to reduce the price of federal lands, a move sure to endanger the surplus, and Clay had to fight them at every turn. Even worse in his view were the growing instances in which people simply expropriated public lands by showing up in advance of government surveyors. At the end of March 1836, he stoutly opposed Robert J. Walker's plan to reduce land prices for people who had settled on public property. Walker wanted to grant them "preemption," which meant exclusive rights to purchase land at bottom dollar. Clay called these people squatters, a term Walker found objectionable when applied to those he claimed were the backbone of the nation, the very men who had fought under Jackson at New Orleans. Walker exclaimed that if the men Clay derided as squatters had been in Washington in 1814, they would have saved the city from the British torch. The gallery loved this sort of talk, and it greeted Walker's tribute to patriotic American yeomanry with loud applause. Clay waited for everyone to settle down. He innocently claimed no disrespect to squatters but impishly added that he "hardly thought they would have saved the Capitol unless they had given up their habits of squatting."58 Calhoun and Clay worked together to push a distribution plan through Congress. They described the money being divided among the states as a loan in order to satisfy the constitutional qualms of opponents, but this transparently semantic dodge fooled nobody. The states would never pay back the money. In addition, the Deposit-Distribution Act, as its name indicated, required the initial deposit of money in state banks before distribution to state governments. Even worse from Clay's perspective, the bill provided for only a single act of distribution and did not tie the policy permanently to the sale of federal lands. Most expected Jackson to veto it, but to everyone's surprise he signed the bill into law. Old Hickory judged the large majorities that had favored the bill as veto-proof, and he was careful to avoid hurting Van Buren's election in the fall by opposing a popular measure.59 Jackson instead tried to offset the impact of distribution by reducing federal revenues from land sales. His plan was to announce a new Treasury policy by way of the Specie Circular, a change recommended to him by Thomas Hart Benton, whose preference for hard money gained him the alliterative nickname of "Bullion" Benton. The Treasury would accept only specie rather than banknotes for land sales. The administration meant for the Specie Circular to be a crafty method of lowering western land prices by discouraging speculation. Instead, ordinary investors inferred that Jackson's pronouncement meant the government had no confidence in the nation's banks, and they began to pull their money from dubious and healthy banks alike. As depositors scrambled to withdraw gold and silver, banks nervously curtailed loans in order to sustain their reserves. Meanwhile, wealthy speculators continued to dominate the land market because only they had specie on hand or the necessary credit to obtain it. The alarming rate of withdrawals, the removal of federal funds under the Deposit-Distribution Act, and the arbitrary demand for specie to purchase land made for an extremely unstable fiscal situation. By spring 1837, major Pet Banks in the Northeast, once flush with government deposits, had seen their specie reserve depleted by two-thirds. The state of affairs verged on financial catastrophe.60 Meanwhile, the Whig hope that the presidential election would go to the House proved unfounded. Van Buren took a majority in the Electoral College with 170 votes to 124 for the other candidates. Harrison, however, finished with a respectable 73 electoral votes, even with the divided Whig field, showing strength in the West, Mid-Atlantic, and Upper South. Some in the party started thinking about Harrison and 1840.

More immediately, the rapid glide toward an economic Niagara continued as Congress opened its session in December 1836. Clay led the Whigs to assail Jackson's lack of judgment, but he also offered a practical compromise. The government should stop transactions with unhealthy banks and accept banknotes exclusively from reputable institutions, meaning only those that had sufficient specie reserves to back their paper. Clay warned that if Jackson's specie policy remained in place, not only would American businesses suffer, but the American people would have a first-class panic and lingering depression on their hands. A bill containing most of Clay's plan passed Congress near the end of the session, but Jackson pocket vetoed it. The rapid glide continued.61 Clay had only reluctantly returned to Washington. Van Buren's victory had deeply depressed him, and the unrelenting battles with Jackson had left him exhausted. He had all but decided to quit after his term, but when the Jacksonians commenced what he regarded as the most contemptible gesture in American political history, they sealed his decision. From the moment the Senate in 1834 had censured the president for removing the deposits, Jacksonians had worked to have it expunged from the legislature's official records. For Old Hickory, this drive for vindication became all-consuming and summoned the worst of his vindictive enthusiasms. He and his lieutenants exerted pressure on legislators in Democrat-controlled states to pass resolutions instructing their senators to vote for an expunging resolution. In states evenly divided between Whigs and Democrats, Jacksonians worked tirelessly to elect Democrat majorities.62 The authority of state legislatures to instruct House and Senate members had always been as controversial as it was uncertain. In 1811, Senator Henry Clay had cited the Kentucky legislature's instructions as a prime reason for his opposing the renewal of the first Bank of the United States, yet in 1825, Representative Henry Clay had disregarded the legislature's instructions to vote for Andrew Jackson. Clay was not alone in obeying or ignoring such directives according to circumstances, and clearly the case rather than any firm principle guided most members of Congress. Those who steadfastly held that state legislatures had the right to instruct congressional delegations drew a line between senators and representatives. Legislatures elected senators to represent the entire state, while voters divided into districts elected House members. Yet the notion of senators serving in Washington as essentially ambassadors from their states and consequently subject to state control was nevertheless vague. When a Jacksonian majority gained control of the Virginia legislature, it told Senators John Tyler and Benjamin Watkins Leigh to vote for expunging the censure. Tyler resigned rather than comply; Leigh refused to vote to expunge, but he kept his seat, at least until the end of the session, when he resigned for personal reasons.63 By the final congressional session of Jackson's presidency, the unflinching labors of his supporters had produced the necessary votes in the Senate for his vindication, and a weakened opposition could only delay the inevitable. In this task as in others, Thomas Hart Benton piloted the administration's project by proposing the resolution to expunge the censure.

During debates over previous resolutions of this sort, Clay had always said little. In this debate, he remained silent until the final day, and because common knowledge had it that he planned to speak, the gallery was packed. He rose from his desk, and the crowded chamber went silent. He reminded everyone that he was the author of the censure and thus felt compelled to oppose Benton's effort to erase it from the Senate's official records. His silence in all previous debates on this measure had rested on the assumption that nobody could seriously have expected the Senate to mutilate its own annals-but, he added sarcastically, the Jacksonian majority was apparently capable of anything. Clay refrained from rehashing his reasons for the censure but emphatically declared that everything contained in it was true. Obliterating it would not change what had actually happened.64 It was a caustic speech, and Clay showed more than his usual contempt for the administration and those senators doing its bidding. As he prepared to conclude, he asked, "What patriotic purpose is to be accomplished by this expunging resolution? Is it to appease the wrath and to heal the wounded pride of the Chief Magistrate?" He mocked Benton's resolution for directing that "Black lines!" be physically drawn through the censure. Clay wanted the pen used to draw those lines to go to Democrats as a tainted trophy. He recommended that they create a new mark of American aristocracy to commemorate their "noble work." They could style it "the Knight of the Black lines." He whirled on his colleagues and roared for them to go to their homes and tell their constituents "that, henceforward, no matter what daring or outrageous act any President may perform, you have forever hermetically sealed the mouth of the Senate."65 The vote to expunge passed 24 to 19. As the Senate secretary pulled the journal out to draw the black lines, Clay and opposition members stalked out of the chamber. The secretary marked out the censure and scratched into the journal the words "Expunged by order of the Senate, this 16th day of January 1837." Spectators in the gallery hissed and booed, and the presiding officer, Senator William King of Alabama, was about to have them evicted when Benton began to have qualms: the sergeant-at-arms, he suggested, should remove only "ruffians" who objected to the Senate's vote, the implication being that the majority of spectators approved of it. The men who had redressed the supposed wrong done to Jackson brazened it through, for they had little choice. Clay's sarcasm became reality. They presented the pen that had drawn the black lines to Jackson, who promised to preserve it as one of his "precious relics." Irony was lost on the old man.66 IN THE AFTERMATH of this event, Clay all but ceased participating in Senate debates. The expunging resolution had been for him the final blow to degrade Congress and demoralize the country. He liked Van Buren personally but doubted he would markedly differ from the man who had handpicked him for the presidency. of this event, Clay all but ceased participating in Senate debates. The expunging resolution had been for him the final blow to degrade Congress and demoralize the country. He liked Van Buren personally but doubted he would markedly differ from the man who had handpicked him for the presidency.67 Clay told Frank Brooke that he would leave the Senate "with the same pleasure that one would fly from a charnel-house." His next birthday would be his sixtieth, and he had never felt so old, so tired. Clay told Frank Brooke that he would leave the Senate "with the same pleasure that one would fly from a charnel-house." His next birthday would be his sixtieth, and he had never felt so old, so tired.68 Inauguration day was sunny and mild. The Senate assembled to see the new vice president, Richard Johnson, sworn in before moving to the East Portico for Van Buren's oath and address. Visitors mingled with senators as they awaited the official party. Clay spied Thomas Ritchie, the editor of the Richmond Enquirer. Enquirer. The two had been close when they had first met as teenagers in Richmond but had grown apart after the War of 1812, primarily because of Ritchie's disapproval of the American System. They remained cordial until Clay's decision to support Adams in the House vote of 1825 completely estranged the editor. Ritchie's The two had been close when they had first met as teenagers in Richmond but had grown apart after the War of 1812, primarily because of Ritchie's disapproval of the American System. They remained cordial until Clay's decision to support Adams in the House vote of 1825 completely estranged the editor. Ritchie's Enquirer Enquirer became a relentless critic of Clay and everything he advocated. They had not seen each other in over a decade. Francis Preston Blair had said that Clay never abandoned a friend, and that inauguration day, he proved it by crossing the chamber with his hand outstretched. Clay was willing to risk the rebuff, and Ritchie was unwilling to exact it. He took Clay's hand and genially remarked "that Time had laid his hands so gently upon" the Kentuckian. Clay laughed and lifted his hands as if to hold something back. He promised that he would "keep the Old Fellow off as long as" he could. They continued laughing and reminiscing until Van Buren and Jackson entered arm in arm and the spell was broken. Henry Clay and Thomas Ritchie would not say a single word to each other for another thirteen years. became a relentless critic of Clay and everything he advocated. They had not seen each other in over a decade. Francis Preston Blair had said that Clay never abandoned a friend, and that inauguration day, he proved it by crossing the chamber with his hand outstretched. Clay was willing to risk the rebuff, and Ritchie was unwilling to exact it. He took Clay's hand and genially remarked "that Time had laid his hands so gently upon" the Kentuckian. Clay laughed and lifted his hands as if to hold something back. He promised that he would "keep the Old Fellow off as long as" he could. They continued laughing and reminiscing until Van Buren and Jackson entered arm in arm and the spell was broken. Henry Clay and Thomas Ritchie would not say a single word to each other for another thirteen years.69 Van Buren's day was festive, although not as raucously celebratory as his predecessor's. Clay gauged the crowd descending on Washington from Van Buren's New York as being "as great as it was from Scotland, when James [VI] ascended to the throne of England."70 The country, at peace and apparently prosperous, witnessed another quiet passing of power, the end of Jackson as president if not of Jackson as a force within the great party engine the new president had created. Van Buren's inaugural address promised to keep the country at peace and pledged its continued prosperity. He lauded moderation, especially regarding slavery. He pointedly deprecated the growing agitation by abolitionists to ban slavery in Washington, D.C., which was his first misstep as president. The country, at peace and apparently prosperous, witnessed another quiet passing of power, the end of Jackson as president if not of Jackson as a force within the great party engine the new president had created. Van Buren's inaugural address promised to keep the country at peace and pledged its continued prosperity. He lauded moderation, especially regarding slavery. He pointedly deprecated the growing agitation by abolitionists to ban slavery in Washington, D.C., which was his first misstep as president.71 It would not be his last, for with that remark he made instant enemies of abolitionists on the first day of his administration. Relations with Britain proved more fragile than anyone realized. Worst of all, the rapid glide to economic disaster had almost reached the steep falls, perversely waiting until the Little Magician became president, an office that seemingly robbed him of his wand. It would not be his last, for with that remark he made instant enemies of abolitionists on the first day of his administration. Relations with Britain proved more fragile than anyone realized. Worst of all, the rapid glide to economic disaster had almost reached the steep falls, perversely waiting until the Little Magician became president, an office that seemingly robbed him of his wand.

Late that spring, the economic current plunged the country over the brink. Banks began to fail, and major businesses that relied on credit to operate began to close their doors. Banks that survived suspended specie payments on their notes and called in loans, some good, some bad, all increasingly uncollectable. The Panic of 1837 had many causes, some related to the ill-judged policies of Jackson's administration, some completely beyond the control of any president or any government. True enough, banks were short of gold and silver because of the Specie Circular and because of Jackson's insistence on paying off the national debt (much of it held by foreigners) in specie. Yet great and silent forces beyond anyone's power were also in play. In the early 1830s, abundant Mexican silver inflated prices and lubricated the machinery of global trade, as promoted by British banks and British firms, especially as it reached around the world to the Orient. After 1835, however, the Texas Revolution and U.S. claims against Mexico dramatically diminished the supply of Mexican silver. While that was happening, the value of American cotton failed to keep pace with the rising prices of European goods, and those British firms that customarily extended credit to southern planters and cotton brokers abruptly halted the practice as they surveyed the weakening world economy. Under pressure to loosen credit domestically, British bankers confronted the costs of an abysmal grain harvest that forced Britain to stave off famine by importing significant amounts of European wheat. Not only did those British bankers stop southern credit, they called in loans from American banks, whether good or bad, and some of these too went uncollected. These accumulating events reached a critical mass in early 1837, just as Van Buren was being sworn in. Panic shot through American financial markets, shattering the banking system and throwing the general population into disarray as a tide of business failures swept over the country. By summer, America had simply stopped working, and forlorn crowds of hollow-eyed men clustered at the doors of more and more banks, trying to get their money, wandering away dazed as those doors closed early, the vaults empty, their contents vanished.72 At first, the crisis seemed to paralyze Van Buren. Earlier financial downturns had never been so thorough and smashing, and earlier nostrums of government inaction had seemed sensible. Jackson told Van Buren to let the markets sort themselves out, but the deepening disaster gave rise to demands for some sort of government intervention. Finally, Van Buren felt he had no choice. He concluded that banks were the fundamental problem, especially the Pet Banks so long favored with federal deposits and now deprived of them. Actually, Van Buren was in error. Most banks, even the Pet Banks, had behaved responsibly, had not heedlessly extended credit, and had maintained healthy reserves. That Van Buren and his advisers erroneously blamed banks for the financial catastrophe goaded them into hastily formulating a plan of action. They especially wanted to act before annoying Whigs could raise the specter of the BUS. Van Buren summoned a special session of Congress for September 1837. He planned to present to it a proposal for a "Subtreasury" or "Independent Treasury." It was to be a "divorce," as the president portentously called it, of all government funds from private banks.73 AS THE ECONOMY imploded, Clay spent the spring and summer at Ashland, far from the tumult. He had planned a trip to St. Louis to inspect his Missouri lands and visit James, but Van Buren's call for a special session intervened. As Clay tracked the financial crash through newspapers and correspondence, he was certain that Jackson's policies had caused it. Hearing the rumor that Van Buren intended to cut all connections between the government and the nation's banking system, Clay was horrified. The move, he warned, would further diminish confidence in banks and worsen bad policies that had already gone far toward destroying the country's financial structure. The only hope rested in that summer's state elections giving Whigs a congressional majority. They could then reverse the madness, block any additional folly, and enact a sensible program to restore credit and repair the economy. Clay prepared for the worst, however. He made plain that he could at least acquiesce in a reasonable administration plan to relieve the country's suffering, but he left home in August very doubtful that one would materialize. In fact, reports that Jackson in Nashville was behind Van Buren's rash plan to abandon the banking system disheartened him. imploded, Clay spent the spring and summer at Ashland, far from the tumult. He had planned a trip to St. Louis to inspect his Missouri lands and visit James, but Van Buren's call for a special session intervened. As Clay tracked the financial crash through newspapers and correspondence, he was certain that Jackson's policies had caused it. Hearing the rumor that Van Buren intended to cut all connections between the government and the nation's banking system, Clay was horrified. The move, he warned, would further diminish confidence in banks and worsen bad policies that had already gone far toward destroying the country's financial structure. The only hope rested in that summer's state elections giving Whigs a congressional majority. They could then reverse the madness, block any additional folly, and enact a sensible program to restore credit and repair the economy. Clay prepared for the worst, however. He made plain that he could at least acquiesce in a reasonable administration plan to relieve the country's suffering, but he left home in August very doubtful that one would materialize. In fact, reports that Jackson in Nashville was behind Van Buren's rash plan to abandon the banking system disheartened him.74 Van Buren wanted not only a "divorce" of federal funds from the banking system but also the issuance of specie and federal notes backed by the Treasury. Yet critics pointed out that federal notes competing with banknotes could only depreciate the value of the latter, further damaging the banks themselves. Whigs criticized the plan as a very messy divorce indeed, one certain to deepen the chaos in American commercial centers. They also saw a sinister political result in devaluing banknotes: the party that controlled the Treasury would control the monetary system.75 Several factors hobbled Whig efforts to block the proposal, however. The most damaging was John C. Calhoun's defection to the administration, a move that stunned Clay and Webster. They judged it a treacherous betrayal that confirmed Calhoun's lack of principle and his shameless intention to further his own political fortunes by whatever means at hand. Just at that moment, Martin Van Buren seemed to be the handiest way for Calhoun to rise, and the strange alliance between the two-between the president and the man who had chortled over killing him "dead" in a Senate confirmation proceeding-substantiated all the unseemly features of the new politics.

Confronting the administration's formidable phalanx, Clay put up a stout fight in the Senate, but the numbers were clearly against him. When he repeated that only the American System's promotion of strong banking could revive collapsed markets, everyone might have noted he was going blue in the face. He nevertheless pointed out the inconsistency of Van Buren's establishing a government bank by any name-"Independent Treasury" seemed the most fashionable at the moment-while blaming banks for causing the disaster. He derisively compared the proposal to blaming the bullet rather than the triggerman for killing the victim. The administration nevertheless had the votes in the Senate, especially because of Calhoun, and the Subtreasury plan passed. The House of Representatives, however, turned thumbs down, and witnesses reported Clay as shouting "Hurrah!" when he heard the news. The special session closed. Neither executive nor Congress had realized a single accomplishment to alleviate the country's distress or solve the government's economic plight.76 The futile special session left Clay little time to visit Ashland before he had to return to Washington for the regular session in December. Lucretia stayed behind. Nobody knows whether she made a flat declaration of her intention never to return to Washington or it simply worked out that way, but she never set foot in the capital again. Her absence gave rise to stories about her being an eccentric recluse, tales that created the impression that she was withered and desolate, a shade wandering the halls of Ashland like a timid cat, silent and with lowered eyes. Eventually, people would forget that she had ever come to Washington and would even claim that she never had. They would not recall the quiet woman whom fashionable Margaret Bayard Smith had for years valued as a dear friend, the two in a carriage making calls, tending each other's children, mingling at the Wednesday levees at Decatur House. In Washington, Lucretia had loved to play the piano with the children dancing around it, and she still played, only never again in Washington. Far from being a shrouded mansion, Ashland rang with Lucretia's music, her motherless grandchildren now the dancers, her friends from her church her companions, the activities of the community and the work of her dairy filling her days.

In short, Lucretia Clay was too busy to bother with nonsense in Washington. The Duralde boys mostly lived at Ashland when not in school, and Anne's younger children were a constant presence as James Erwin traveled on business. Theodore was just miles away, of course, and Henry with his dear Julia and their growing family frequently visited, requiring rooms to be readied and treats to be prepared for the little ones. John loved Ashland and was off to its stables first thing in the morning to tend to the swift horses he found both fascinating and friendly. They apparently returned the feeling.

Thomas had worried his parents sick, but he gradually found his way by finding a girl. In storybook fashion, she lived next door and had grown up with him and his siblings. Her parents were the French immigrants Augustus and Charlotte Mentelle, who operated a boarding school across the road from Ashland where most of the Clay children had received their earliest education with other local youngsters, including little Mary Todd, future wife of Abraham Lincoln. Clay was away at the special session, but Thomas had not postponed his plans to take Mary Mentelle for his wife that fall. The Clays were delighted to have her join the family. She had been a fixture at Ashland as a small child, one of those people who grows up on the edge of a family as a sort of mascot, and now she had agreed to be Thomas's lucky charm. Bright and cheerful, she chattered in person and bubbled in letters, and Clay adored her for loving his boy, once lost, now found.77 Coming just weeks after the wedding, Ashland's Christmas that year was happier than it had been in quite some time. Yuletide celebrations were different in those days, but the day still held special significance for family. Children laughed and danced at cheerful parties, such as one at the Wickliffes' where Clays and Mentelles joined other guests to feast on roasted turkey. Henry and Julia's family rounded out the complement along with Aunt Suky and her daughter, Nanette Price. Lucretia with Julia, and Mary with her mother Charlotte, staged large family dinners of their own, complete with mince pies, cakes, and candy. "Your Ma," Mary wrote to James, and then corrected herself to say, "our Ma is not lonely, as there are [sic] always someones [sic] comfort to look after."78 Lucretia had her little Creoles and the Erwin youngsters charging about excitedly, but she missed James, who was away in Missouri trying to get started as a farmer, and she worried about him. He was lonely and confessed to his mother that he was a little lovesick over not being in love. "You said you wanted a woman," little Martin Duralde bluntly wrote him. "Why there are lots of them." Apparently there were not any of them where James was, though, and Lucretia worried about him alone during the holidays. She found his flute and sent it to him, enclosing fifty dollars in the package. She claimed to have found it tucked among his things at Ashland, but this was obviously money from her dairy business. It was Christmas.79 Lucretia missed her husband as well, since he was gone this Christmas as he had been for so many others, a casualty of the legislative calendar that always saw Congress in session during December. Two years earlier, when Anne had been ill but seemingly recovering, Clay had left for Washington with such reluctance that he had committed to retirement. He had told Lucretia that he hoped "that this is the last separation, upon earth, that will take place, for any length of time, between us."80 Then Anne died, and his world collapsed. Then Anne died, and his world collapsed.

Everything paled in the wake of that loss, but as it darkened his life, it had the oddly compensatory effect of putting everything else, including politics, into perspective. The immutable law that all things change and the certainty that the passing of enough time will partly restore the spirit, if one is willing, partly lifted the veil. But it was the economic panic, which suddenly made the Whigs relevant and made possible their becoming a coherent party, that sent breath across the fading ember in his heart. Whig victories all over the country in the summer and fall elections partly lifted the veil too. For the first time since Anne's death, Henry Clay gradually came into focus. He squared his shoulders and set his jaw. He would not retire. It was time "to see the Goths expelled [from] the Capitol." There was work to do.81

CHAPTER TEN.

"I Had Rather Be Right than Be President"

WHEN THE STEAMBOAT Detroit Detroit hit a snag and foundered on the Ohio River in late summer 1838, the newspapers reported that Clay and John J. Crittenden were on board. They were not, instead having booked passage on the hit a snag and foundered on the Ohio River in late summer 1838, the newspapers reported that Clay and John J. Crittenden were on board. They were not, instead having booked passage on the Buffalo, Buffalo, which rescued the which rescued the Detroit Detroit's stranded passengers. "Whig boats do not founder," Clay joked to a friend concerned by the news. He told of taking on some "Locofocos" from the wreck and added, "We shall I hope soon have to relieve others of them from the more important wreck they have made of the Administration."1 Indeed, the lingering effects of the financial panic and the Democrats' inability to offset them pointed to an all but certain Whig victory in 1840. Nevertheless Clay cautioned that they still had a lot of work to do. "The adversary is in possession of the field," he noted. As Van Buren's continuing frustration over the Subtreasury stalemate increased public dissatisfaction, even Clay's caution dropped away. "If we do not beat him," he said, "we deserve to be gibbeted."2 Although Clay was the undisputed leader of the party in Congress, the prospect of his candidacy for 1840 did not stir universal enthusiasm among Whigs, and their qualms annoyed him. The objection that he would unite the Democrats like no other Whig was especially exasperating. "I do not like to be run down by other Candidates or would be Candidates on our own side," he grumbled. He scoffed at fears over provoking Jackson and Van Buren supporters: "as if that party were to elect a Whig Whig Presdt.!" Presdt.!"3 One of the Whig contenders from 1836, Hugh Lawson White, decided not to try again and in the end supported Clay, but Daniel Webster and William Henry Harrison were obviously in the hunt. Daniel Webster's poor showing in 1836 had not blunted his ambition nor slowed his plans, and though Clay was aware of Harrison's appeal, he believed Webster was the stronger opponent. Discerning Whigs, he thought, would eventually realize that Harrison was a shallow vessel. Webster was anything but shallow, and at first it appeared as though Clay had reason to be worried. Webster remained bitter over the Harrison and White candidacies in 1836, and he sustained toward Clay a special resentment for not supporting him in that contest. Webster accordingly resolved shortly after Van Buren's inauguration to proceed toward the nomination, this time with more finesse.

He could never match Clay's influence in the Senate, so he aimed at attracting rich business interests in Massachusetts, New York, and Philadelphia, especially the last, where Nicholas Biddle's bank kept him on handsome retainers that were barely concealed bribes.4 His extensive connections in New York City included Whig clubs and the editors of influential newspapers, and he hoped their support would set into motion an irresistible momentum. Because the South detested him, he need not worry about alienating southerners, which made the task of satisfying northerners easier. His extensive connections in New York City included Whig clubs and the editors of influential newspapers, and he hoped their support would set into motion an irresistible momentum. Because the South detested him, he need not worry about alienating southerners, which made the task of satisfying northerners easier.5 In May 1837, the Godlike Dan'l traveled through the West, a ploy to drum up support and counter Harrison's popularity in the region. By then the economic panic had presented him with a new issue, and he laid into Van Buren's ineffectiveness, excoriated Benton's hard-money stand, and blamed the Specie Circular for destroying the economy. His handsome second wife, Caroline, fifteen years his junior, and his bashful, pretty nineteen-year-old daughter, Julia, accompanied him on the trip, helping to offset his reputation as something of a rake. The family also came overland from Maysville for a weeklong visit at Ashland. Clay's generous hospitality included lavish dinners, continuously filled glasses, exciting outings to horse races, and sparkling repartee. By the time the Websters departed, a casual observer would have supposed that he and Clay were close friends rather than wary competitors. Clay marveled over Webster's "defective judgment in what concerns himself and his prospects," but the large and apparently adoring crowds the New Englander attracted in places like Louisville gave the Kentuckian pause. He insisted that these demonstrations for Webster were only "homage to his ability" and certainly not enthusiasm for his potential candidacy.6 Webster's popularity worried him, though, and by that summer Clay was criticizing his rival's "shocking" ambition that threatened to divide Whigs and lose them the 1840 election. Webster's popularity worried him, though, and by that summer Clay was criticizing his rival's "shocking" ambition that threatened to divide Whigs and lose them the 1840 election.

In the months that followed, they shouldered at each other, sometimes in silly ways. When Webster initiated a move to repeal the Specie Circular, Clay used some legislative trickery to preempt the measure with one of his own, boosting his prestige with the business community. Clay claimed that the maneuver was not meant to antagonize Webster, but he nonetheless grumbled about the effort to give Webster credit for the proposal. "This competition about the resolution," he admitted, "was unworthy of either of us." Webster remarked in exasperation, "So the world goes!"7 Despite the large crowds he had attracted in the West, Webster's success on his 1837 tour was more show than real, and Clay had discerned that. He was nervous about Webster's strength in New York, though. As it happened, that too proved illusory, because Thurlow Weed believed Webster's ties to Biddle were as toxic as was his early career as a Federalist. But even so, Clay's New York supporters worked to quash the Webster boomlet in their all-important state by insisting that any nominee be chosen by a national Whig convention.8 The idea for the convention did not originate with Clay-early that summer, William Henry Harrison's Ohio supporters were urging one to nominate their man-but Clay approved of it as a way to fend off Webster.9 The idea made political sense, because it was the best way to avoid the chaotic multiple candidacies of 1836. Yet by striking down Webster with this tactic, Clay courted peril, for the timing of the convention was crucial to his chances in it. With the economy in ruin, Clay's popularity instantly rose as his dire warnings about the Democrats' fiscal policy seemed confirmed by events. Suddenly his prescriptions for putting things right through government intervention, especially by reviving the Bank, seemed sensible, and because Clay was their principal advocate, his candidacy looked popular and politically logical. The sooner he could be placed before a convention the better, since improving financial conditions would likely dim the people's enthusiasm for his program and diminish for Whigs his attractiveness as a candidate. The idea made political sense, because it was the best way to avoid the chaotic multiple candidacies of 1836. Yet by striking down Webster with this tactic, Clay courted peril, for the timing of the convention was crucial to his chances in it. With the economy in ruin, Clay's popularity instantly rose as his dire warnings about the Democrats' fiscal policy seemed confirmed by events. Suddenly his prescriptions for putting things right through government intervention, especially by reviving the Bank, seemed sensible, and because Clay was their principal advocate, his candidacy looked popular and politically logical. The sooner he could be placed before a convention the better, since improving financial conditions would likely dim the people's enthusiasm for his program and diminish for Whigs his attractiveness as a candidate.

The Whigs, however, quarreled over when to hold their convention. Harrison's supporters wanted it to occur in May 1838, but everyone else thought that was much too early. Clay was among them, although mistakenly, because an early convention at the height of the country's economic misery would have been to his greatest advantage. Hugh Lawson White advised that Clay's best chance was to have the nomination made in the summer of 1839 at the latest. Clay, however, began to take a dim view of the convention altogether. By the spring of 1838, his suspicions about Harrison's maneuvers were growing. Harrison's people had first proposed the convention, Clay noted, and eventually he thought he could see their reasoning. Harrison could not secure a national endorsement (meaning one that included the South, where he was weak) in any other fashion.10 Southern and southwestern Whigs were repelled by the idea of a convention because they saw it as emulating the process that had produced Van Buren's candidacy. Clay held a considerable advantage in the South, and if these Whigs refused to attend, it would deal Clay a serious blow and boost Harrison's odds. Southern and southwestern Whigs were repelled by the idea of a convention because they saw it as emulating the process that had produced Van Buren's candidacy. Clay held a considerable advantage in the South, and if these Whigs refused to attend, it would deal Clay a serious blow and boost Harrison's odds.11 But Clay had already agreed to accept a convention's decision by the time he entertained these doubts. And though he finally realized that an early date would be to his advantage, the goals of state leaders determined when the party would make its nomination. They did not want a presidential nominee complicating their local elections, contests in which Whig victories were otherwise assured. Consequently, in April 1838 a Whig caucus in Washington put out the word that the convention would be held in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, a full year and a half later. Clay agreed to this, and though doing so was in retrospect a mistake, he had no choice.12 Meanwhile, his conviction that Webster was his most dangerous opponent persisted into the spring of 1838, and he finally decided to confront the problem directly. He met with Webster on June 13 for a lengthy conversation in which he candidly assessed Webster's chances as less than slim. He should step aside and avoid dividing the party, Clay said. The meeting was friendly, but Clay left it convinced that Webster would continue his quest for the nomination. "He will be control[led] by his friends," Clay concluded, "or will submit to the force of circumstances." And while Clay believed that Webster's friends would eventually persuade him to quit, he also thought Webster would do so "slowly and sullenly."13 Clay was right about Webster's reluctance to withdraw, but he did not seem to realize the perverse pleasure Webster took in remaining a candidate solely to obstruct him. In part, Webster was motivated by revenge for Clay's endorsement of Harrison in 1836. The Massachusetts legislature had already returned him to the Senate, but he began avoiding controversial votes in the third session of the Twenty-fifth Congress, as though it mattered. "Mr. Webster has been here several weeks," Clay mused, "& wraps himself up, so far as I know, in perfect silence."14 Yet Webster clearly did not have a chance-Clay was right about that too, and Weed plainly told Webster that he would not be the nominee-but he remained a putative candidate even after he left the country for an extended sojourn in England in 1839. Not until that June did he formally withdraw, in a letter dispatched from London. Webster did not recommend anyone in his stead, but that omission too spoke volumes. By then, though, Clay knew who his real rival was for the nomination. Yet Webster clearly did not have a chance-Clay was right about that too, and Weed plainly told Webster that he would not be the nominee-but he remained a putative candidate even after he left the country for an extended sojourn in England in 1839. Not until that June did he formally withdraw, in a letter dispatched from London. Webster did not recommend anyone in his stead, but that omission too spoke volumes. By then, though, Clay knew who his real rival was for the nomination.15 AS EARLY AS 1837, many Whigs were gravitating toward William Henry Harrison, especially in Upstate New York where leaders like Thurlow Weed and William Seward thought him more electable than either Clay or Webster. Harrison had the support of Antimasons in Pennsylvania led by the mordant Thaddeus Stevens. Harrison was also quite strong in Ohio, where he resided, and in Indiana, where he had solid ties from the beginning of his public career. The old general (he was nearing sixty-eight), along with his unofficial campaign manager, Charles Todd, kept in touch with veterans nationwide, men who fondly recalled serving under him and who were sure to give him their votes in 1840 just as they had in 1836. In July 1837, Whigs in Ohio got the ball rolling by nominating him-a surprise to Clay, who had thought he could wrest the state from Harrison. 1837, many Whigs were gravitating toward William Henry Harrison, especially in Upstate New York where leaders like Thurlow Weed and William Seward thought him more electable than either Clay or Webster. Harrison had the support of Antimasons in Pennsylvania led by the mordant Thaddeus Stevens. Harrison was also quite strong in Ohio, where he resided, and in Indiana, where he had solid ties from the beginning of his public career. The old general (he was nearing sixty-eight), along with his unofficial campaign manager, Charles Todd, kept in touch with veterans nationwide, men who fondly recalled serving under him and who were sure to give him their votes in 1840 just as they had in 1836. In July 1837, Whigs in Ohio got the ball rolling by nominating him-a surprise to Clay, who had thought he could wrest the state from Harrison.16 Even after the Ohio nomination, Clay continued to underestimate Harrison's strength. An observer described as mere "pertinacity" Harrison's reading of his strong showing in 1836 "as an indication of his strength and popularity." "Never was a man more deceived," Clay's correspondent assured him.17 Events would prove that judgment quite incorrect, but for a time Clay seemed well justified in accepting it. He had earlier concluded that the western part of New York was for him, as was New England, including Massachusetts, despite Webster's obstinacy. South Carolina hated Webster and was averse to Harrison, and after Calhoun, preferred Clay, described as "a noble creature" and "the only opposition man who has the slightest chance." Events would prove that judgment quite incorrect, but for a time Clay seemed well justified in accepting it. He had earlier concluded that the western part of New York was for him, as was New England, including Massachusetts, despite Webster's obstinacy. South Carolina hated Webster and was averse to Harrison, and after Calhoun, preferred Clay, described as "a noble creature" and "the only opposition man who has the slightest chance."18 North Carolina, Louisiana, and Georgia were strongly in his column. Even Tennessee looked to be his, much to Andrew Jackson's chagrin. Old Hickory's followers made speeches throughout the state imploring Tennesseans to spare him the insult of having his enemy vindicated while the Old Hero still breathed. John Bell chuckled that if Tennessee went for Clay, Jackson would "burst [a] blood vessel & expire." North Carolina, Louisiana, and Georgia were strongly in his column. Even Tennessee looked to be his, much to Andrew Jackson's chagrin. Old Hickory's followers made speeches throughout the state imploring Tennesseans to spare him the insult of having his enemy vindicated while the Old Hero still breathed. John Bell chuckled that if Tennessee went for Clay, Jackson would "burst [a] blood vessel & expire."19 At first Clay thought that resolutions in the Kentucky legislature recommending him for president were too early and displayed "more zeal than discretion," but as winter gave way to spring in 1838, his political star was so ascendant that he brimmed with confidence. The Ohio and New York state elections the previous fall had handed Whig candidates impressive victories, returns that Clay interpreted as an overpowering trend.20 Yet sustaining his strength meant walking a fine line to avoid alienating the northern and southern wings of the party. Hard times made that easier in one respect. Although Calhoun routinely denounced the American System as "the source of all our oppression, disorder, and corruption," he hardly spoke for the South.21 Southern Whigs, in fact, were not altogether averse to Clay's economic ideas, for many elite planters had come to realize that a better transportation system could mean brisker commerce for southern agricultural staples as well as northern manufactured goods. They also recognized the commercial benefits of stable credit and a sound currency. In addition, Clay carefully tempered his views on these matters to avoid appearing doctrinaire. He was flexible about the Bank. He still insisted that the country needed a national bank, for he truly believed that only a central agency could establish and maintain a sound currency, but he admitted its resurrection was not politically feasible in the absence of widespread popular acceptance, which he acknowledged did not exist. He softened his views on the tariff, stating his continued support for the lower duties of the Compromise of 1833, and he gauged state expenditures on internal improvements as sufficiently funded by land revenue distribution, making federal funding unnecessary. When Clay repeated these sentiments to northern audiences, Edward Everett deduced that they signaled "a gentle edging over to Southern ground." Southern Whigs, in fact, were not altogether averse to Clay's economic ideas, for many elite planters had come to realize that a better transportation system could mean brisker commerce for southern agricultural staples as well as northern manufactured goods. They also recognized the commercial benefits of stable credit and a sound currency. In addition, Clay carefully tempered his views on these matters to avoid appearing doctrinaire. He was flexible about the Bank. He still insisted that the country needed a national bank, for he truly believed that only a central agency could establish and maintain a sound currency, but he admitted its resurrection was not politically feasible in the absence of widespread popular acceptance, which he acknowledged did not exist. He softened his views on the tariff, stating his continued support for the lower duties of the Compromise of 1833, and he gauged state expenditures on internal improvements as sufficiently funded by land revenue distribution, making federal funding unnecessary. When Clay repeated these sentiments to northern audiences, Edward Everett deduced that they signaled "a gentle edging over to Southern ground."22 Handling the slavery controversy was not so simple, especially when Calhoun tried to make mischief with it during the already contentious Twenty-fifth Congress. The South Carolinian's break with the Whigs and his alliance with Van Buren were partly opportunistic, but he also was motivated by his growing belief that Clay was as soft on abolitionism as Webster was hard against slavery.23 Moreover, while most southerners preferred to let the sleeping dog of slavery lie, Calhoun roused it to rally his section and force northern accommodation. He introduced six resolutions in the Senate on December 27, 1837, four of them markedly provocative. Two of the resolutions repeated Calhoun's view of the Union as a mere compact of sovereign states in which each exercised complete control of its internal affairs, an obvious way to protect slavery from outside interference. That much the Senate could swallow. The remaining resolutions, however, stuck in the majority's throat. Calhoun insisted that the federal government not just refrain from interfering with slavery but actively protect it. For good measure, he capped his demands with an assertion that blocking Texas annexation on the basis of slavery was not only unfair to the South but unconstitutional. Moreover, while most southerners preferred to let the sleeping dog of slavery lie, Calhoun roused it to rally his section and force northern accommodation. He introduced six resolutions in the Senate on December 27, 1837, four of them markedly provocative. Two of the resolutions repeated Calhoun's view of the Union as a mere compact of sovereign states in which each exercised complete control of its internal affairs, an obvious way to protect slavery from outside interference. That much the Senate could swallow. The remaining resolutions, however, stuck in the majority's throat. Calhoun insisted that the federal government not just refrain from interfering with slavery but actively protect it. For good measure, he capped his demands with an assertion that blocking Texas annexation on the basis of slavery was not only unfair to the South but unconstitutional.24 The initiative marked the beginning of Calhoun's blatant proslavery crusade, thereafter the defining theme of his career, but it was also a way of forcing Henry Clay's hand on the issue. Along with others, Clay recognized that with the slavery issue, Calhoun's "real aim [was] to advance the political interest of the mover and to affect mine."25 He countered with several speeches in the Senate in January and February 1838, his manner "easy and graceful, but imperious and commanding." He countered with several speeches in the Senate in January and February 1838, his manner "easy and graceful, but imperious and commanding."26 He criticized Calhoun's confrontational tone and his agitation of issues such as Texas annexation, an initiative that would only embolden abolitionists and panic southerners. The injury done to the Union would be incalculable. Clay insisted that Calhoun's menacing approach was not an effective way to protect the rights of slaveholders. Moreover, Clay claimed that his amiable and conciliatory tone was no less firm and much more productive. In addition, he could not "believe that it is prudent or wise to be so often alluding to the separation of the Union. We ought not to be perpetually exclaiming, wolf, wolf, wolf." He then launched into an effective metaphor: He criticized Calhoun's confrontational tone and his agitation of issues such as Texas annexation, an initiative that would only embolden abolitionists and panic southerners. The injury done to the Union would be incalculable. Clay insisted that Calhoun's menacing approach was not an effective way to protect the rights of slaveholders. Moreover, Clay claimed that his amiable and conciliatory tone was no less firm and much more productive. In addition, he could not "believe that it is prudent or wise to be so often alluding to the separation of the Union. We ought not to be perpetually exclaiming, wolf, wolf, wolf." He then launched into an effective metaphor: We are too much in the habit of speaking of divorces, separation, disunion. In private life, if a wife pouts, and frets, and scolds, what would be thought of the good sense or discretion of the husband who should threaten her with separation, divorce, or disunion? Who should use those terrible words upon every petty disagreement in domestic life? No man, who has a heart or right feelings, would employ such idle menaces. He would approach the lady with kind and conciliatory language, and apply those natural and more agreeable remedies, which never fail to restore domestic harmony.27 The passage was classic Clay, illustrating the fundamental difference between his and Calhoun's temperament, the one whimsical and humorous, the other reflexively dour and dark. When Clay applied this technique, he could draw in followers, charm listeners, and inspire emulation, even by an essentially melancholy man like Abraham Lincoln, who like Clay learned to dress his points in comic garb to make them more appealing. The Senate broke into prolonged laughter over Clay's domestic allusion. Calhoun glowered.

Clay proposed six resolutions of his own to offset Calhoun's. Slavery should be exclusively controlled by the states, and petitions to abolish slavery in them should be rejected because they requested Congress to act beyond its authority. On the other hand, Congress could indeed abolish slavery where it exercised jurisdiction, as in the District of Columbia or federal territories, and should accordingly receive any petitions about those areas. He was on record as being adamantly opposed to a general policy that ignored petitions, for it would endanger the fundamental right to seek redress. Instead, he wanted a system to separate the mischievous work of fanatics from the reasonable requests of citizens. Until slavery touched on this issue, Calhoun had agreed that the right to petition was "guaranteed by the Constitution" and that it was a "duty" of Congress to receive them. By 1838, protecting slavery had altered the South Carolinian's perception of constitutional propriety but not the Kentuckian's.28 A lengthy debate ensued and the final votes, after much talk, were mixed, but Clay was at least able to persuade the Senate to reject Calhoun's most intemperate language. Instead, his colleagues agreed that the government should neither protect nor interfere with slavery and that abolitionism was bad because it imperiled the Union. When it was all over, Clay felt that he had deftly stepped around Calhoun's slavery snare.

The cut-and-thrust matches with Calhoun, though, spilled over into other matters and other arguments. Their exchanges grew testy, even belligerent, and on February 19, 1838, during the debate on the perennial Democrat effort to create the Subtreasury, Clay delivered a blistering four-hour address in which he accused Calhoun of being a Nullifier and, worse, of allying with Van Buren for base political advantage. Both charges visibly stung the South Carolinian, and some thought Clay had gone too far.29 Calhoun struck back in a speech that took him all of three weeks to prepare. It included a less than oblique reference to the Corrupt Bargain as a more pertinent example of politics trumping principle. Calhoun struck back in a speech that took him all of three weeks to prepare. It included a less than oblique reference to the Corrupt Bargain as a more pertinent example of politics trumping principle.30 Despite being ill, Clay immediately answered. He did not need "two or three weeks to prepare" his response to Calhoun, he roared, and he then commenced a full-scale attack on the South Carolinian that traced their work together over the course of three decades. He ultimately described Calhoun as a changeling on significant issues. They had worked together and had agreed for years on most important policy measures, but "we concur now in nothing," Clay announced. "We separate forever." Despite being ill, Clay immediately answered. He did not need "two or three weeks to prepare" his response to Calhoun, he roared, and he then commenced a full-scale attack on the South Carolinian that traced their work together over the course of three decades. He ultimately described Calhoun as a changeling on significant issues. They had worked together and had agreed for years on most important policy measures, but "we concur now in nothing," Clay announced. "We separate forever."31 Ever since the 1824 campaign, their relations had been tinged with suspicion and sometimes marred by outright mistrust, a state of affairs worsened by the Nullification Crisis, but a shared aversion to Jackson and his policies had drawn them together. Calhoun's allegiance to the Whigs was never solid, though, just as his allegiance to Van Buren proved equally fragile. And though his increasingly inflexible sectional response to all national problems would eventually have caused a breach with Clay in any case, Calhoun's abrupt desertion of the Whigs and his support for the Van Buren administration surprised everyone. His and Clay's final break in early 1838 was particularly unpleasant because it featured clashing egos as much as opposing ideas. Referring to his performance in the Senate on February 19, Clay could gloat that he had "handled Calhoun without gloves," and the impressive debates (Webster also participated with a spirited defense of Clay that flattened Calhoun with sarcasm) have long been deemed among the most brilliant in the Senate's history.32 Yet Clay upon reflection gave way to foreboding. Yet Clay upon reflection gave way to foreboding.

He thought Calhoun's behavior "most extraordinary" and was troubled by what he perceived as the effort to promote disunion. He grimly assessed his erstwhile friend's little clique that made up for its small size with relentless activity. Its aim was to persuade southerners that the federal government from its very start had been injuring the South to benefit the North. "I believe in private life he is irreproachable," Clay concluded, "but I believe he will die a traitor or a madman."33 Calhoun freely confessed, "I don't like Henry Clay." He was "a bad man, an impostor, a creator of wicked schemes." Calhoun swore he "wouldn't speak to" Clay. "But, by God," Calhoun blurted out in the same breath, "I love him."34 LUCRETIA REMAINED BUSY with the grandchildren, her church, Ashland's dairy, and Lexington's community activities. As always, she was self-sufficient and frugal, and Clay worried that she kept it from him when she ran short of funds. Her days at Ashland were mottled with everyday aches and pains, sometimes requiring the attention of Lexington doctor Thomas P. Satterwhite or W. W. Whitney. She was feeling her age and having to resort to small treatments and prescriptions more than she had before. Sometimes she indulged herself with little pleasures, which pleased Clay. She was fond of "good fresh Macaroni," and he was glad to ask Julie Duralde Clay to send some up from New Orleans. with the grandchildren, her church, Ashland's dairy, and Lexington's community activities. As always, she was self-sufficient and frugal, and Clay worried that she kept it from him when she ran short of funds. Her days at Ashland were mottled with everyday aches and pains, sometimes requiring the attention of Lexington doctor Thomas P. Satterwhite or W. W. Whitney. She was feeling her age and having to resort to small treatments and prescriptions more than she had before. Sometimes she indulged herself with little pleasures, which pleased Clay. She was fond of "good fresh Macaroni," and he was glad to ask Julie Duralde Clay to send some up from New Orleans.35 Life at Ashland during these years was often enlivened by a houseful of grandchildren, causing Clay to report cheerfully that the place had "all the animation which it exhibited twenty years ago."36 Anne's boys, Eugene and Edward, "as fat as seals," often stayed at Ashland, and her daughter, Lucretia Clay Erwin, had started school but was having a hard time "fixing her attention on her studies." Clay wanted Thomas to consult with Lucretia about where to send the Duralde children to school. Clay preferred that they board with Thomas and Mary and offered to pay a generous allowance to offset the boys' expenses. The suggestion was a sign of the salutary effect Mary was having on his son. Anne's boys, Eugene and Edward, "as fat as seals," often stayed at Ashland, and her daughter, Lucretia Clay Erwin, had started school but was having a hard time "fixing her attention on her studies." Clay wanted Thomas to consult with Lucretia about where to send the Duralde children to school. Clay preferred that they board with Thomas and Mary and offered to pay a generous allowance to offset the boys' expenses. The suggestion was a sign of the salutary effect Mary was having on his son.37 "During a long life," he wrote to the children of a friend, expressing what was surely his wish for his children's children, "I have observed that those are the most happy who love, honor, and obey their parents; who avoid idleness and dissipation, and employ their time in constant labor, both of body and mind; and who perform, with regular and scrupulous attention, all their duties to our Maker, and his only Son, our blessed Saviour."38 In sum, it was a clear statement of the millennial spirit that fueled the exuberant reformist ideas of Whigdom. The world could be made better through hard, careful work and obedience to a higher authority, whether vested in one's parents or in God. Speaking from experience and "much observation," he had come to the conclusion that anyone "who is addicted to play loses money, time, sleep, health and character." In sum, it was a clear statement of the millennial spirit that fueled the exuberant reformist ideas of Whigdom. The world could be made better through hard, careful work and obedience to a higher authority, whether vested in one's parents or in God. Speaking from experience and "much observation," he had come to the conclusion that anyone "who is addicted to play loses money, time, sleep, health and character."39 Despite the didactic tone he often took with his children and grandchildren, Clay believed that everyone must find his own moral way as an exercise of free will. Whig philosophy lauded temperance and Whig reformers promoted it, but Clay believed it a worthy cause only so long as it used "mild measures": The misfortune in human affairs is that we convince ourselves of what we suppose to be right, and then we endeavor, as we ought to do, to persuade others; but if we fail to convince them, we then resort to force. Hence, religious intolerance, proscription, the stake &c. Now, it is generally admitted among us, that in Religion, the greatest of all our interests, every man should be left free to follow any or none, as he pleases. But if we may not compel men to be religious have we a right to oblige them to be sober? Have we a right to constrain them to eat or not to eat, to drink or not to drink, not as they please, but as we choose to think it best for them?40 With uncanny foresight he predicted that temperance would "destroy itself whenever it resorts to coercion, or mixes in the politics of the Country." When Massachusetts Whigs passed a law that required all liquor sales to be a minimum of fifteen gallons (to suppress the trade by mandating a high quantity), Clay called it "indefensible." Temperance was creditable only as moral suasion, not legislative coercion. "No man likes to have, or ought to have, cold water or brandy, separately or in combination, put in or kept out of his throat upon any other will than his own."41 His determination to see his grandchildren well educated stemmed partly from a mixture of Enlightenment rationalism and millennial liberalism. But it also resulted from his awareness of his own deficiencies in formal schooling, which he often lamented. It is inaccurate, however, to take at face value contemporary assessments of him as indifferent to books and uninterested in abstract thoughts. Possibly Clay understood the maxim summed up in the couplet "Good rule of thumb / In politics, too smart is dumb" and accordingly cultivated the image of a practical man with useful ideas rather than an intellectual like Hugh Swinton Legare or even, for that matter, Daniel Webster or John C. Calhoun. But occasionally he let slip that he was an astute political philosopher and a confident intellectual. When Francis Lieber asked him to read his book on legal and political hermeneutics, Clay made perceptive suggestions for its improvement, some as arcane as the distinction between transcendent and extravagant construction and some as practical as a greater emphasis on the legislature's obligation to adhere to constitutional prescriptions. Lieber thought enough of Clay's remarks to incorporate the changes into a subsequent edition.42 Clay's suggestions to James for broadening himself with a reading program reveal what Clay regarded as essential historical knowledge. He recommended a thorough grounding in Greco-Roman traditions by studying histories of ancient Greece, Plutarch's writings, and Edward Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. He also recommended David Hume's history of England, William Russell's study of modern Europe, Henry Hallam's multivolume history of the Middle Ages, William Robertson's three-volume history of the reign of Charles V, John Marshall's five-volume biography of Washington, and Carlo Botta's history of the American Revolution. "You should adopt some systematic course, as to time," he told James, "that is to read so many hours out of the 24." He also recommended David Hume's history of England, William Russell's study of modern Europe, Henry Hallam's multivolume history of the Middle Ages, William Robertson's three-volume history of the reign of Charles V, John Marshall's five-volume biography of Washington, and Carlo Botta's history of the American Revolution. "You should adopt some systematic course, as to time," he told James, "that is to read so many hours out of the 24."43 He worried about James, whose move to Missouri was not working out. Clay repeatedly urged him to try to be happy and stay busy despite his being "loansome," and the reading program was apparently designed in part to give the boy something to do. Clay above all feared that James would fall into dissolute habits and follow the twisted path of Thomas (only recently rescued by Mary Mentelle) and John, who drank too much and whom Clay suspected of feigning illness at Princeton to get out of his studies.44 "I have feared your solitary condition might prompt you into it [dissipation]," he warned James, and he urged the young man to consider "any arrangement by which you can come back to Kentucky and live in the midst of your friends." As the boy's loneliness fed his gloom, Clay sent money and advice: Stay busy! In fact, "constant employment" was "the great secret of human happiness." James should court a girl, marry her, start a family. "I have been looking out for a wife for you," Clay said, "but I suppose you will have to select [one] for yourself." In any case, he begged James not to keep to himself too much. When the boy admitted that he wanted to get out more but then reported that he hadn't, his father anxiously wanted to know why and then thought he had hit on the reason. "Do you want clothes?" he asked, possibly recalling his own boyhood awkwardness so many years before at the Chancery in Richmond, and he offered to supply money for a new wardrobe.45 But most of all, he wanted his son to come home to Ashland. As it happened, Clay's political plans would unite him with his son sooner than he had expected. But most of all, he wanted his son to come home to Ashland. As it happened, Clay's political plans would unite him with his son sooner than he had expected.

LIKE THE REST of the country, Lexington felt the effects of the panic, and investment capital rapidly dried up. of the country, Lexington felt the effects of the panic, and investment capital rapidly dried up.46 Transylvania University also felt the sting of harsh conditions. Clay actually owed the university $10,000 that he had borrowed from his friend James Morrison's bequest to the school, which required a $600 annual payment, and he owed $1,200 a year on a $20,000 loan from John Jacob Astor. Yet his prospects remained sound despite the economic downturn. He made $72,000 in 1838 and owned property in Lexington assessed at $13,000 in 1837, which increased to $14,000 in 1838 and to $16,000 in 1839. His property in Fayette County, including Ashland, where forty-eight slaves toiled, was valued at $43,790. In addition to other out-of-state holdings, he owned land at the confluence of the Grand and Missouri rivers, near Brunswick. Transylvania University also felt the sting of harsh conditions. Clay actually owed the university $10,000 that he had borrowed from his friend James Morrison's bequest to the school, which required a $600 annual payment, and he owed $1,200 a year on a $20,000 loan from John Jacob Astor. Yet his prospects remained sound despite the economic downturn. He made $72,000 in 1838 and owned property in Lexington assessed at $13,000 in 1837, which increased to $14,000 in 1838 and to $16,000 in 1839. His property in Fayette County, including Ashland, where forty-eight slaves toiled, was valued at $43,790. In addition to other out-of-state holdings, he owned land at the confluence of the Grand and Missouri rivers, near Brunswick.47 That January, Clay showed a dark temper in clashes with colleagues. He again attacked Mississippi senator Robert J. Walker's attempt to legislate preemption into federal land policy as a way to reward squatters at the expense of the federal Treasury. Learning from earlier experience, Clay was at first careful to distinguish between a bad policy and its potential beneficiaries by tempering his description of squatters as having "many worthy and excellent men among them," but in the debate that followed he lost his temper. He heatedly asked why it was proper for those squatters "to seize upon and rob the United States of their possessions?" When Indiana's John Tipton objected to Clay's defaming his constituents, Clay heedlessly characterized squatters as a "lawless rabble."48 His vote against preemption hurt him in Arkansas and Missouri, but everybody could respect him for voting "the way he believed was right." His vote against preemption hurt him in Arkansas and Missouri, but everybody could respect him for voting "the way he believed was right."49 His reckless remark, however, would come back to haunt him. His reckless remark, however, would come back to haunt him.

That spring he also snapped at nephew John S. Hart for delaying the manufacture of Ashland's hemp while he attended to that of another uncle. It was not the first time the Harts had let him down. Hart's brother Thomas had behaved similarly, and Clay's patience was at an end. He was "disappointed and mortified" and vowed that unless John Hart fulfilled the bargain, their business relationship would end. "I will not be trifled with again," Clay warned. He soon had cause to regret his edginess in this episode as well, for Hart was killed by a lightning strike that summer.50 Otherwise, Clay lived well and had much to be grateful for. He stocked Ashland with imported wines, including a superior Madeira brought from Portugal at no small expense (almost $400 per pipe, the equivalent of 126 gallons). He wanted to give up snuff but was unable "to discontinue the use of that stimulant" and was appreciative when Kit Hughes sent him some boxes as a gift. While in Washington, he picked up the tab for posh dinner parties at the celebrated American & French Restaurant where good food and copious drink were the standard fare, along with card games. Clay still found the capital's society, if not its politicians, sparkling. He boarded at Mrs. Hill's, conveniently situated near Gadsby's. His congenial fellow lodgers included John J. Crittenden, his closest friend. Samuel Southard could be morose-his marriage to an unstable hypochondriac made him more than miserable-but Tom Corwin was a genuine wag with a wicked sense of humor.51 When another boarder at Mrs. Hill's, Representative William J. Graves, a fellow Kentuckian and friend of Clay's, killed Maine representative Jonathan Cilley in a duel on February 24, 1838, the affair caused a national scandal that touched on Clay. Graves and Cilley had been quarreling over the character of James Watson Webb, the Whig editor of the New York Courier and Enquirer, Courier and Enquirer, whom the Democrat Cilley criticized and the Whig Graves defended. In the duel that resulted, Henry Wise acted as Graves's second and was present as the antagonists squared off at eighty yards and fired three rounds at each other with rifles, the last killing Cilley. The capital was outraged by the unique barbarity of the encounter-using rifles had obviously meant a fight to the death-and the Supreme Court refused to attend Cilley's funeral in symbolic protest just as Congress opened a lengthy debate on anti-dueling legislation. Later, after he and Clay had become enemies, Wise claimed that Clay had encouraged the affair by revising Graves's challenge, but Clay convincingly explained that he was merely trying to soften the language in the hope of effecting a reconciliation. At the time, though, even Clay's peripheral involvement in the incident had repercussions. A correspondent from Maine said it was hurting his presidential prospects with New Englanders repelled by dueling. He wanted Clay to make clear that he had tried to prevent the Graves-Cilley duel in particular and that he opposed the practice on principle. Clay obliged, explaining that he had tried to stop Graves and Cilley from meeting, even going so far as to involve the authorities, but unsuccessfully. Clay found the entire matter sad, sordid, and distasteful, and he insisted that he wrote privately and definitely not for publication. He had learned the hard way not to dignify with denials unfounded charges against him. whom the Democrat Cilley criticized and the Whig Graves defended. In the duel that resulted, Henry Wise acted as Graves's second and was present as the antagonists squared off at eighty yards and fired three rounds at each other with rifles, the last killing Cilley. The capital was outraged by the unique barbarity of the encounter-using rifles had obviously meant a fight to the death-and the Supreme Court refused to attend Cilley's funeral in symbolic protest just as Congress opened a lengthy debate on anti-dueling legislation. Later, after he and Clay had become enemies, Wise claimed that Clay had encouraged the affair by revising Graves's challenge, but Clay convincingly explained that he was merely trying to soften the language in the hope of effecting a reconciliation. At the time, though, even Clay's peripheral involvement in the incident had repercussions. A correspondent from Maine said it was hurting his presidential prospects with New Englanders repelled by dueling. He wanted Clay to make clear that he had tried to prevent the Graves-Cilley duel in particular and that he opposed the practice on principle. Clay obliged, explaining that he had tried to stop Graves and Cilley from meeting, even going so far as to involve the authorities, but unsuccessfully. Clay found the entire matter sad, sordid, and distasteful, and he insisted that he wrote privately and definitely not for publication. He had learned the hard way not to dignify with denials unfounded charges against him.52 IN THE FALL of 1838, Clay asked Nicholas Biddle for a loan of $5,000 to $10,000 to help him purchase a stud horse in England. Biddle quickly approved the loan-he always took care of his bank's friends-and lightheartedly wrote to Clay about arranging "the visit of the illustrious stranger whom you propose to invite over." Biddle insisted that Clay did not need a cosigner. Ashland alone would cover the loan, and in any case, Biddle said, Clay had "a very fair prospect of an addition ... of $25000 a year" to his income. That was the salary of the president of the United States. of 1838, Clay asked Nicholas Biddle for a loan of $5,000 to $10,000 to help him purchase a stud horse in England. Biddle quickly approved the loan-he always took care of his bank's friends-and lightheartedly wrote to Clay about arranging "the visit of the illustrious stranger whom you propose to invite over." Biddle insisted that Clay did not need a cosigner. Ashland alone would cover the loan, and in any case, Biddle said, Clay had "a very fair prospect of an addition ... of $25000 a year" to his income. That was the salary of the president of the United States.53 Clay's questionable political strength in the North remained a problem, though. In New York, the abolitionists had sufficient numbers in all counties west of Albany to influence if not decide elections, and Thurlow Weed doubted Clay's ability to surmount their opposition. Weed was also worried about the Antimasons' disapproval of Clay, a situation mirroring that of Pennsylvania, where Thaddeus Stevens and newly elected governor Joseph Ritner led that sizable faction of the Whig Party. Clay always doubted that Antimasonry would become a broad or comprehensive political movement attracting support across the Union, but in the quest for the 1840 nomination, it didn't have to be. The Antimasons' sway in Pennsylvania and key parts of New York were enough to cause him a great deal of trouble.54 Clay has been described as trying to improve his standing with Upstate New Yorkers by taking an anti-British stance in the wake of a violent Anglo-American clash along the Canadian border. In 1837, a small minority of Canadians staged an uprising against British colonial rule, and quick-tempered Americans got mixed up in it because it offered a chance to twist the British lion's tail. On December 29, 1837, the British captured and burned the American steamer Caroline, Caroline, which had been supplying Canadian rebels across the Niagara, unfortunately staging the raid on the New York side of the river. The invasion of American soil was bad enough, but garish American accounts described the burning vessel as loaded with screaming victims while plunging over Niagara Falls. Actually, only one American was killed, and the which had been supplying Canadian rebels across the Niagara, unfortunately staging the raid on the New York side of the river. The invasion of American soil was bad enough, but garish American accounts described the burning vessel as loaded with screaming victims while plunging over Niagara Falls. Actually, only one American was killed, and the Caroline Caroline had run aground well short of the falls. had run aground well short of the falls.55 On January 4, 1838, Van Buren received the news while hosting a gathering of Whigs at the White House, Clay among them. The president pulled General Winfield Scott aside and quietly told him, "Blood has been shed; you must go with all speed to the Niagara frontier."56 At first Clay took a measured tone and counseled against American anger. It was a stand consistent with his earlier attitudes. At first Clay took a measured tone and counseled against American anger. It was a stand consistent with his earlier attitudes.57 Yet on January 9, he told the Senate that the British action was an "outrage ... wholly unjustifiable, and not in the slightest degree palliated by any thing which preceded it." Yet on January 9, he told the Senate that the British action was an "outrage ... wholly unjustifiable, and not in the slightest degree palliated by any thing which preceded it."58 His shift in this regard was probably his reaction to the shocking and erroneous stories of the His shift in this regard was probably his reaction to the shocking and erroneous stories of the Caroline Caroline's fate rather than an opportunistic tactic to curry New York's favor.

Winfield Scott, who calmly and firmly managed the aftermath of the Caroline Caroline incident, gained luster in the Empire State because of these events. Thurlow Weed and William Seward actually turned to Scott as an alternative to Harrison. Similarly, Scott's deft handling of riled tempers in Maine during the Anglo-American quarrel over ownership of the Aroostook Valley further increased his standing and gradually made him another serious rival for northern support. incident, gained luster in the Empire State because of these events. Thurlow Weed and William Seward actually turned to Scott as an alternative to Harrison. Similarly, Scott's deft handling of riled tempers in Maine during the Anglo-American quarrel over ownership of the Aroostook Valley further increased his standing and gradually made him another serious rival for northern support.

The gravest injury to Clay's candidacy resulted from a rebounding economy that caused state and local elections in the fall of 1838 to go badly for Whigs throughout the country, almost erasing their gains from the previous year. These results bewildered him. He scrutinized Ohio and wondered about the activities of the crafty Amos Kendall, who had been in Columbus a week prior to the election. "For what purpose?" Clay asked. "How easy was it for him to issue orders to his deputies and to render them effectual by appropriate means, throughout the State?"59 Yet Whig failures could not be blamed exclusively on cunning politicos like Kendall or even the animosity of abolitionists. Something else was clearly wrong, and Whigs began to wonder if it was Henry Clay. Yet Whig failures could not be blamed exclusively on cunning politicos like Kendall or even the animosity of abolitionists. Something else was clearly wrong, and Whigs began to wonder if it was Henry Clay.

Clay's appeal stemmed from the belief that his prescriptions for the economy promised improvement. If the economy did not need his correctives, Whigs feared that Clay would only unite Van Buren Democrats and push away undecided voters. When the Antimasons nominated Harrison on November 13, 1838, Clay's luck seemed at low ebb. The meeting was held in Philadelphia, and though it professed to reflect the will of Antimasons nationally (or at least the six states that sent delegations), it was most telling for what it revealed about Pennsylvania. That state's Antimasons had controlled the convention and were obviously committed to blocking Clay in order to promote Harrison.60 That Antimasons now constituted a strong faction of Pennsylvania Whigs did not augur well for Clay's chances with the state party. That Antimasons now constituted a strong faction of Pennsylvania Whigs did not augur well for Clay's chances with the state party.

By that November, Whigs fretted that Clay, Harrison, and Van Buren might divide the Electoral College to throw the election into the House, and the situation looked so grim that Clay thought about withdrawing from the contest.61 The small Whig victories in New York and Virginia provided the only bright news. In both states, Clay had been courting Democrats disaffected by Van Buren's hard money policies, the group that styled itself conservative Democrats and included the Virginian William Cabell Rives and New Yorker Nathaniel P. Tallmadge. Achieving a combination between those elements and Clay Whigs in Virginia and New York could set up an irresistible momentum that might put him over at the Whig convention. The small Whig victories in New York and Virginia provided the only bright news. In both states, Clay had been courting Democrats disaffected by Van Buren's hard money policies, the group that styled itself conservative Democrats and included the Virginian William Cabell Rives and New Yorker Nathaniel P. Tallmadge. Achieving a combination between those elements and Clay Whigs in Virginia and New York could set up an irresistible momentum that might put him over at the Whig convention.62 In addition, Clay's New York operatives tried to charm Weed by supporting Weed lieutenant William Seward for governor. That maneuver was risky and ultimately proved fruitless when Weed remained skeptical about Clay's chances. Ironically, the Kentuckian's support of Seward further alienated New York Antimasons. In addition, Clay's New York operatives tried to charm Weed by supporting Weed lieutenant William Seward for governor. That maneuver was risky and ultimately proved fruitless when Weed remained skeptical about Clay's chances. Ironically, the Kentuckian's support of Seward further alienated New York Antimasons.63 Nor was this Clay's only problem in New York. Webster's supporters contrived a scheme of "triangular correspondence." Men pretending to be Clay's supporters in solid Clay counties wrote letters to others living in his firmest enclaves entreating hard work on his behalf because he was unexpectedly weak where they lived. Everyone was misled into believing that Clay was slipping in places where he was actually strong, an impression that stalled his momentum statewide. Evidence indicates that this technique was also applied in Ohio.64 Clay's plan to attract Virginia's conservative Democrats proved unproductive as well. The plan focused on supporting Rives in his 1839 Senate reelection bid, a strategy that required blocking his Whig opponent, John Tyler. Neither party nor personal loyalty figured into this scheme, for Clay simply needed Rives's people to secure the endorsement of the Virginia legislature; he otherwise liked and respected Tyler. Virginia's robust states' rights faction, dubbed the "Impracticables," despised Rives, and the result was a yearlong stalemate between the "Practicable" Whigs supporting the Democrat Rives and the Impracticable Whigs supporting Tyler. Bad feelings festered and grudges grew. Clay was deprived of backing from Richmond when it would have most counted, and Tyler's candidacy badly divided Virginia's Whigs over Clay's plans, party allegiance, and states' rights.65 Most exasperating of all were persistent claims in the North and South that routinely misrepresented Clay's positions on slavery. "He ought to have seen," Calhoun said acidly, "that it was impossible for him to take middle ground on the abolition question."66 On February 7, 1839, Clay delivered a major address to the Senate that was mainly an effort to quell charges from Calhoun's quarter that he was a closet abolitionist but also addressed accusations from Van Buren's followers and northern Whigs that he was too ardent a defender of slavery. On February 7, 1839, Clay delivered a major address to the Senate that was mainly an effort to quell charges from Calhoun's quarter that he was a closet abolitionist but also addressed accusations from Van Buren's followers and northern Whigs that he was too ardent a defender of slavery.67 To placate the latter, Clay reprised his opinion that slavery was a moral bane on both chattel and master. He appreciated why abolitionists opposed it, he said, for they were understandably embracing an admirable moral imperative. These were not ideas of the moment, but views he had held for some time. To placate the latter, Clay reprised his opinion that slavery was a moral bane on both chattel and master. He appreciated why abolitionists opposed it, he said, for they were understandably embracing an admirable moral imperative. These were not ideas of the moment, but views he had held for some time.68 He tempered this praise with an emphatic disapproval of abolitionists for their impracticality, something he also had stated before. They proposed to end slavery but had no plans for dealing with the economic devastation that emancipation would inflict on the nation, let alone planters, a cost he reckoned at more than a billion dollars.69 In addition, the unfeasible aims of abolitionists provided no solution to the racial imbalance that would result in those parts of the South with large slave populations. Faced with losing the strictures of social control that slavery afforded, southerners would certainly choose secession over coerced emancipation, and from that, Clay concluded that abolitionism was fomenting disunion. In fact, Clay thought that the abolitionists' rejection of gradual compensated emancipation and colonization delayed positive steps rather than hastened them and endangered national harmony to the point of jeopardizing the country's existence. In addition, the unfeasible aims of abolitionists provided no solution to the racial imbalance that would result in those parts of the South with large slave populations. Faced with losing the strictures of social control that slavery afforded, southerners would certainly choose secession over coerced emancipation, and from that, Clay concluded that abolitionism was fomenting disunion. In fact, Clay thought that the abolitionists' rejection of gradual compensated emancipation and colonization delayed positive steps rather than hastened them and endangered national harmony to the point of jeopardizing the country's existence.70 Clay's attitudes in 1839 represented a balance between moderate northern opinion, as represented by men like Abraham Lincoln, and the anxiety of southern Whigs. Clay's position helped to soothe the latter by reassuring them of his rightness on slavery. He continued to regard slavery as indefensible in the abstract, but he also insisted that it was anything but an abstraction. Given the choice, he would never have placed it "amongst us," but that choice was not available. Slavery was in place and required practical solutions, not idealistic visions.71 Abolitionists who proclaimed that the Constitution should not stand in the way of abolishing slavery left Clay aghast: "If any citizens of the United States, who object to a particular part of the constitution, may elude and disregard it, other citizens, dissatisfied with other parts, have an equal right to violate them; and a universal nullification of the sacred instrument would be the necessary consequence." Abolitionists who proclaimed that the Constitution should not stand in the way of abolishing slavery left Clay aghast: "If any citizens of the United States, who object to a particular part of the constitution, may elude and disregard it, other citizens, dissatisfied with other parts, have an equal right to violate them; and a universal nullification of the sacred instrument would be the necessary consequence."72 Instead, Clay grounded his approach in the Jeffersonian tradition of trusting in time, a benign Providence, the "chapter of accidents," and adherence to the rule of law to solve the problem. Instead, Clay grounded his approach in the Jeffersonian tradition of trusting in time, a benign Providence, the "chapter of accidents," and adherence to the rule of law to solve the problem.73 Clay's attack on the abolitionists drew grudging praise from Calhoun. "I heard the Senator from Kentucky with pleasure," he admitted, but privately he muttered that Clay "had no choice" but to make such a speech. Calhoun assessed it as "far from being sound on many points" and doubted it would strengthen Clay's candidacy.74 The sour South Carolinian was not alone, for even Clay's friends worried that the speech was too candid and would provide opportunities for both northern and southern extremists to dog his heels. He ran it by William C. Preston a few days before delivering it, and Preston warned him about its impolitic tone. Preston said that Clay emphatically responded, "I trust the sentiments and opinions are correct; I had rather be right than be President." The sour South Carolinian was not alone, for even Clay's friends worried that the speech was too candid and would provide opportunities for both northern and southern extremists to dog his heels. He ran it by William C. Preston a few days before delivering it, and Preston warned him about its impolitic tone. Preston said that Clay emphatically responded, "I trust the sentiments and opinions are correct; I had rather be right than be President."75 The remark achieved wide currency and met with considerable acclaim. It seemed especially admirable when compared to the political cynicism of spoilsmen brazenly scrambling for office and patronage. Yet both friendly and critical biographers have doubted that Clay actually said it, or that if he did, he was sincere.76 The suspicion that at best he fashioned the statement for political effect, however, does not seem to have occurred to his contemporaries. On the contrary, everyone at the time seems to have accepted it as something Clay would say. Many, in fact, firmly believed that he was too principled to be elected president, insisting that he would never abandon his core beliefs "to gain popularity. He will do right-let consequences be what they may." The suspicion that at best he fashioned the statement for political effect, however, does not seem to have occurred to his contemporaries. On the contrary, everyone at the time seems to have accepted it as something Clay would say. Many, in fact, firmly believed that he was too principled to be elected president, insisting that he would never abandon his core beliefs "to gain popularity. He will do right-let consequences be what they may."77 His behavior in this slavery debate confirmed his earnestness. His stand did prove costly with abolitionists, a bloc that for a time had actually preferred Clay to Van Buren because of "the infamous pledge" Van Buren made in his inaugural about not touching slavery in the District of Columbia. His behavior in this slavery debate confirmed his earnestness. His stand did prove costly with abolitionists, a bloc that for a time had actually preferred Clay to Van Buren because of "the infamous pledge" Van Buren made in his inaugural about not touching slavery in the District of Columbia.78 Yet these same men grew disenchanted with Clay when he refused to set an example by freeing his own slaves. Yet these same men grew disenchanted with Clay when he refused to set an example by freeing his own slaves.79 He was still the president of the American Colonization Society, whose plans to relocate freed slaves to Africa repelled abolitionists who thought them motivated by anti-black prejudice. Clay's February 7 speech completed the estrangement, but he had grown as impatient with abolitionists as they were with him. He was still the president of the American Colonization Society, whose plans to relocate freed slaves to Africa repelled abolitionists who thought them motivated by anti-black prejudice. Clay's February 7 speech completed the estrangement, but he had grown as impatient with abolitionists as they were with him.80 Northern Whigs held little truck with abolitionists, but Clay's description of slavery as a practical problem amounted to a defense of the status quo that discomfited them. On the other side, southern extremists objected to his denunciation of slavery as a moral stain. It would take more than twenty years of sectional strife and coalescing opinions before a man holding these deftly balanced attitudes could stand a chance of winning the presidency, and then it would crack the country apart. In that regard, Clay certainly knew that his expression of those opinions in 1839 carried considerable political risk.81 We might take him at his word, then, that he meant what he said, not only in his February 7 speech but also in his response to Preston's warning about it. He had repeatedly stated that the presidency "never possessed any charms in my sight which could induce me to seek it by unworthy means, or to desire it but as the spontaneous grant of those who might alone bestow it."82 Just as he did not want to become president in the absence of popular approval, he did not want to become president by being wrong. That is what he told William C. Preston. Just as he did not want to become president in the absence of popular approval, he did not want to become president by being wrong. That is what he told William C. Preston.

IN EARLY 1839, as Clay seemed in eclipse, his enemies sniped at him about matters great and small. When Thomas Hart Benton pushed for "graduation" (meaning the gradual lowering of federal land prices on tracts left unsold), the debate gave Clay's detractors a chance to revisit his criticism of squatters as a lawless rabble during the preemption debate of January 1838. The effort to depict Clay as an enemy of new states and their inhabitants brought Crittenden to his feet in defense of his friend. He insisted that Clay's remarks were being distorted, but Illinois senator Richard M. Young cited John Tipton as his authority. Possibly Clay did not remember denouncing squatters in such derogatory terms. He had been ill and irritated in early 1838, the debate was animated, and he confided to friends that he "very seldom read any Speech made in Congressnot even my own." as Clay seemed in eclipse, his enemies sniped at him about matters great and small. When Thomas Hart Benton pushed for "graduation" (meaning the gradual lowering of federal land prices on tracts left unsold), the debate gave Clay's detractors a chance to revisit his criticism of squatters as a lawless rabble during the preemption debate of January 1838. The effort to depict Clay as an enemy of new states and their inhabitants brought Crittenden to his feet in defense of his friend. He insisted that Clay's remarks were being distorted, but Illinois senator Richard M. Young cited John Tipton as his authority. Possibly Clay did not remember denouncing squatters in such derogatory terms. He had been ill and irritated in early 1838, the debate was animated, and he confided to friends that he "very seldom read any Speech made in Congressnot even my own."83 But the evidence fairly well proved that he had indeed called squatters a "lawless rabble." Francis Preston Blair's Washington But the evidence fairly well proved that he had indeed called squatters a "lawless rabble." Francis Preston Blair's Washington Globe Globe at the time noted that Clay used this phrase, and the at the time noted that Clay used this phrase, and the Congressional Globe Congressional Globe reported the exact words as having been spoken by him on January 27, 1838. Nevertheless Clay persisted in his denials. The charge, after all, could have seriously injured him in the West. He insisted that Richard Young had vindicated him, for Young had indeed exhibited an admirable sense of fairness by admitting that he might have inferred Clay's language from the tone of his remarks rather than their precise substance. Young's admission was a fairly weak reed, though, and the "lawless rabble" remark became another cudgel Clay himself had rashly put into the hands of his enemies. reported the exact words as having been spoken by him on January 27, 1838. Nevertheless Clay persisted in his denials. The charge, after all, could have seriously injured him in the West. He insisted that Richard Young had vindicated him, for Young had indeed exhibited an admirable sense of fairness by admitting that he might have inferred Clay's language from the tone of his remarks rather than their precise substance. Young's admission was a fairly weak reed, though, and the "lawless rabble" remark became another cudgel Clay himself had rashly put into the hands of his enemies.84 It was not the West but the North, and especially New York, that most worried him that spring. The spontaneous grant of approval Clay said he required might have been welling up there if he could believe encouraging reports from Upstate residents like Tallmadge and Peter Porter. But just to be sure, Clay decided to take a summer tour through the western portion of the state, where heavy Antimason and abolitionist numbers threatened to make him weakest. He was favoring a leg injured when a horse kicked him in late April, missing his kneecap by inches, and his determination to make the trip in any event reveals how important he thought it was. Because he wanted to avoid the unseemly appearance of electioneering, he worried about how the trip would be perceived, yet he was also genuinely excited about the chance to see the Great Lakes, Canada, and Niagara Falls, none of which he had ever visited. Best of all, his son James agreed to accompany him.85 In New York, Clay's resolve to avoid the appearance of electioneering vanished when he became aware that Winfield Scott was the favorite of influential upstate politicians like Thurlow Weed and William Seward. Clay promptly headed for Buffalo, the informal headquarters of both New York abolitionists and Antimasons. There he delivered a speech on July 17 in which he praised the region's natural splendor, thanked New Yorkers for supporting his stand against Britain in the War of 1812 (a way to make a passing allusion to the need for British atonement in the Caroline Caroline affair), and promoted the cause of protective tariffs by reminding the audience of his role in the Compromise of 1833 and how it had saved the Union. Pointing out the value of internal improvements to the state's commerce, he called for projects to be funded by the distribution of land revenues to the states. affair), and promoted the cause of protective tariffs by reminding the audience of his role in the Compromise of 1833 and how it had saved the Union. Pointing out the value of internal improvements to the state's commerce, he called for projects to be funded by the distribution of land revenues to the states.86 The speech was designed to present him as a logical and attractive alternative to Harrison, who was at best vague on specifics of any sort of program, and to Scott, hence Clay's allusion to his stand in 1812 and the recent British violations of the border as a way to blunt the praise lavished on Scott's calming of the Caroline Caroline incident. He also meant to appeal to New York's conservative Democrats, such as Tallmadge, and by showing himself in the heart of Antimasonry and abolitionism, to allay the reservation of these groups. incident. He also meant to appeal to New York's conservative Democrats, such as Tallmadge, and by showing himself in the heart of Antimasonry and abolitionism, to allay the reservation of these groups.

Clay and James continued their journey, passing through Lockport, Rochester, Canandaigua, and Oswego in the days that followed. In late July, they crossed the border to tour Montreal and Quebec, a side trip that allowed Vermont supporters to intercept him on his return and persuade him to visit Burlington. As Clay boarded the steamboat at Port Kent, he accidentally encountered William Seward, who barely concealed his discomfort over the chance meeting. Seward had been carefully avoiding Clay in the hope that he would not have to reveal his support of Winfield Scott, but the two were thrown together long enough for an awkward conversation on the ride down Lake Champlain. Seward told Clay that New York abolitionists would not abide him, but Clay politely disagreed. After all, he had evidence from his journey that New Yorkers of all stripes were more than enthusiastic about him.87 By the time he and James arrived at the United States Hotel in Saratoga-a holiday there being the ostensible reason for the entire trip-Clay was quite pleased with his undertaking, despite his uncomfortable conversation with Seward. Large, spirited crowds had turned out everywhere he went, and his arrival at Saratoga on August 9 was marked by a spectacular welcome. A sizable committee and numerous citizens met him on the outskirts of town. He climbed into a new barouche drawn by four gray horses and started for the resort as a band struck up a lively march. The parade that trailed him stretched for more than a mile. Artillery barked from the hills, cheering crowds choked the streets, and the large piazza in front of the hotel was filled with ladies, there by exclusive reservation. The day had started out stormy, but the sun was shining by the time John Taylor greeted Saratoga's famous guest. Clay responded with an hour-long speech that Philip Hone thought could have been shorter and less political, but the crowd shouted its approval and women wildly waved their handkerchiefs. That evening a glittering reception for him was attended by eight hundred people, many of them among the nation's most distinguished citizens.88 Clay's visit to Saratoga coincided with the zenith of the social season. "All the world is here," noted Hone. "Politicians and dandies; cabinet ministers and ministers of the gospel; office-holders and office-seekers; hum-buggers and humbugged; fortune-hunters and hunters of woodcock; anxious mothers and lovely daughters: the ruddy cheek mantling with saucy health, and the flickering lamp almost extinguished beneath the rude breath of dissipation."89 Winfield Scott, whose star was "fast rising," was also at Saratoga that August, as was President Van Buren, staying on the same floor as Clay. Everyone was good-natured. The president sent Lucretia greetings, "as he always does," said Clay, and the two had a comical encounter in a packed corridor. "I hope I do not obstruct your way," said Van Buren. "Not here, certainly," laughed Clay. Winfield Scott, whose star was "fast rising," was also at Saratoga that August, as was President Van Buren, staying on the same floor as Clay. Everyone was good-natured. The president sent Lucretia greetings, "as he always does," said Clay, and the two had a comical encounter in a packed corridor. "I hope I do not obstruct your way," said Van Buren. "Not here, certainly," laughed Clay.90 He, Scott, and Van Buren all appeared in the grand saloon of the United States Hotel one evening to trade quips with one another while gallantly mingling with the "fair ladies." He, Scott, and Van Buren all appeared in the grand saloon of the United States Hotel one evening to trade quips with one another while gallantly mingling with the "fair ladies."91 Clay's time at Saratoga was thus an unbroken series of pleasantries marred only briefly by James's taking a tumble from a horse that then stepped on his ankle. Clay assured Lucretia that James was only injured "a little" and was healing nicely, so even that event was a minor distraction.92 And then Thurlow Weed arrived. The Albany lobbyist had tried to get Horace Greeley to travel to Saratoga and convey New York's reservations about Clay's presidential aspirations, but the editor got only as far as Albany before the prospect of an unpleasant interview caused him to abort the errand. Weed then took on the job himself and had a meeting with Clay that he later remembered as "something of an ordeal."93 He told Clay that he should withdraw from the contest because his considerable political liabilities jeopardized Whig success on both national and state levels. Too many voters, said Weed, were repelled by his support of the BUS, by his ties to the Masons, by his slaves at Ashland, by his recent attack on abolitionists. That very month, returns from Indiana, North Carolina, and Tennessee had signaled dismaying Whig defeats, clearly demonstrating that something was wrong. Weed said that it was Clay. He told Clay that he should withdraw from the contest because his considerable political liabilities jeopardized Whig success on both national and state levels. Too many voters, said Weed, were repelled by his support of the BUS, by his ties to the Masons, by his slaves at Ashland, by his recent attack on abolitionists. That very month, returns from Indiana, North Carolina, and Tennessee had signaled dismaying Whig defeats, clearly demonstrating that something was wrong. Weed said that it was Clay.

Clay countered that the cheering crowds throughout Upstate New York refuted this grim assessment. He even thought that abolitionists had warmed to him. He refused to withdraw, but now he at least knew clearly where the New York political establishment stood, a confirmation of his suspicions raised by his meeting with Seward, an encounter the governor made plain would not be repeated. Seward always claimed that his differences with Clay were only political, but the simple fact of the matter was that he did not like "Harry of the West."94 At the end of August, Clay concluded his tour with a visit to New York City, arriving from Newburgh aboard the steamer James Madison James Madison on August 21. A grand procession escorted him up Broadway to the steps of City Hall, where dignitaries greeted him with appropriate remarks. Clay replied with a speech that Philip Hone this time found suitably shorter, although the brevity was less a stylistic decision than a physical necessity, for Clay was nearly exhausted. He took rooms at the Astor House, and an endless parade of visitors began consuming his three-day stay while his evenings included trips to the theater. Audiences broke into spontaneous applause upon his appearance and spent performances hardly looking at the stage, instead craning their necks to glimpse him in his box. Weighing the official accolades and surveying the popular approbation, Philip Hone likened it to the treatment afforded Lafayette. Clay was sure to win the presidency, he thought, except that the Whigs were "the most untractable, unreliable party which ever stood up against corruption and bad government." on August 21. A grand procession escorted him up Broadway to the steps of City Hall, where dignitaries greeted him with appropriate remarks. Clay replied with a speech that Philip Hone this time found suitably shorter, although the brevity was less a stylistic decision than a physical necessity, for Clay was nearly exhausted. He took rooms at the Astor House, and an endless parade of visitors began consuming his three-day stay while his evenings included trips to the theater. Audiences broke into spontaneous applause upon his appearance and spent performances hardly looking at the stage, instead craning their necks to glimpse him in his box. Weighing the official accolades and surveying the popular approbation, Philip Hone likened it to the treatment afforded Lafayette. Clay was sure to win the presidency, he thought, except that the Whigs were "the most untractable, unreliable party which ever stood up against corruption and bad government."95 Democrats viewed Clay's progress as warily as did New York's Whig leaders. James Gordon Bennett's Herald Herald chronicled Clay's movements with a mixture of grudging admiration and mocking humor. Bennett was no admirer of Van Buren, and the chronicled Clay's movements with a mixture of grudging admiration and mocking humor. Bennett was no admirer of Van Buren, and the Herald Herald told of the enormous crowd that accompanied Clay to the wharf on Liberty Street for his departure. A man reportedly grabbed Clay's hand and squarely met his eye, exclaiming, "Look here, old Harry, God bless you!" Clay was used to this sort of thing, of course, but it was a stirring close to the trip. The man kept Clay's hand clasped and shouted, "If you don't beat that d-d Kinderhook poney, you're a gone sucker, and no mistake." told of the enormous crowd that accompanied Clay to the wharf on Liberty Street for his departure. A man reportedly grabbed Clay's hand and squarely met his eye, exclaiming, "Look here, old Harry, God bless you!" Clay was used to this sort of thing, of course, but it was a stirring close to the trip. The man kept Clay's hand clasped and shouted, "If you don't beat that d-d Kinderhook poney, you're a gone sucker, and no mistake."96 Clay had no intention of being a gone sucker. That September, as he and James headed home through Baltimore and Philadelphia, Whigs in Virginia assembled in Staunton, endorsed him for president, and named Nathaniel P. Tallmadge as his running mate, putting Virginia in Clay's camp with an incentive for New York to follow. In addition, the meeting appointed Clay's friends James Barbour and Benjamin Watkins Leigh to the delegation for the Harrisburg convention.97 More than ever, Seward's and Weed's warnings seemed easy to dismiss. More than ever, Seward's and Weed's warnings seemed easy to dismiss.

CLAY HAD HARDLY returned to Ashland before his candidacy began to unravel. In Indiana his enemies revived the Corrupt Bargain charge and insisted that only Harrison could take the state from Van Buren. Rumors in New York told of his quitting the race. He sent a chilly letter to Seward asking him to quash them, but he began to sense that he was facing an overwhelming tide. Supporters in North Carolina continued to pledge their support, but they concluded that Harrison was more "available," which was the word at the time to describe a candidate as electable. Continuing Whig reverses in state contests depressed him. "The elections everywhere this year," he said with uncharacteristic melancholy, "indicate unexpected success on the part of the Administration." returned to Ashland before his candidacy began to unravel. In Indiana his enemies revived the Corrupt Bargain charge and insisted that only Harrison could take the state from Van Buren. Rumors in New York told of his quitting the race. He sent a chilly letter to Seward asking him to quash them, but he began to sense that he was facing an overwhelming tide. Supporters in North Carolina continued to pledge their support, but they concluded that Harrison was more "available," which was the word at the time to describe a candidate as electable. Continuing Whig reverses in state contests depressed him. "The elections everywhere this year," he said with uncharacteristic melancholy, "indicate unexpected success on the part of the Administration."98 In one sense, Clay was quite correct to characterize Democrat victories as unexpected, though his discernment was not evident at the time. The economic recovery that had been dimming his chances since 1838 turned out to be unsustainable in the face of financial setbacks overseas, and when British lenders called loans in October 1839, more than eight hundred American banks were forced to suspend specie payments. The depression that ensued ran even deeper than the one caused by the Panic of 1837, but its consequences also spread throughout the country more slowly. Not until the following spring and summer did it become apparent that economic woes had returned with a vengeance, and by then the Whigs had chosen their nominee. Working from the erroneous belief that the economy was sound, they concluded that Clay could not win, unaware of the renewed financial catastrophe that would engulf Van Buren and finally do him in. Anyone could have been elected over Martin Van Buren in 1840.99 That "anyone" was not to be Clay, however. In the fall of 1839, as the economic downturn was occurring but not yet being felt, Weed and Seward were determined to nominate Winfield Scott. The string of Whig defeats beginning in the fall of 1838 and continuing through 1839 convinced them that Harrison was no better than Clay, because Harrison had been the front-runner when Democrats rebounded. Harrison tried to counter this perception by highlighting his attractiveness with wavering Democrats, Antimasons, and legions of veterans. He was also careful not to antagonize anyone. He assured Clay that he never viewed Clay's trip through Ohio as poaching on his turf, and he claimed to be embarrassed that he was contending against Clay for the nomination, a situation he oddly described as having been forced on him by "fate." Harrison's noncommittal stance did not deceive Clay. He was instead more convinced than ever that Harrison was pursuing and fully expected to receive the nomination.100 Events in Pennsylvania also took a troubling turn for Clay that fall. A group of former Antimasons, now Whigs, led by Thaddeus Stevens, withdrew from the state Whig convention over Clay's candidacy and under the disingenuous banner of "Harmony" endorsed Harrison. Stevens's motives were partly mercenary: he hoped for a cabinet post in a Harrison administration. Born into poverty, Stevens had clawed his way to affluence with a relentless program of self-promotion. He wore an unsightly wig that accentuated his bald pate and had an awkward gait because of a clubfoot. Such defects in any other man would have stirred pity, but Thaddeus Stevens was so exceedingly disagreeable that he rarely aroused compassion. Nobody could recall his ever smiling. Though not a delegate to the national convention in Harrisburg, Stevens would control those from Pennsylvania who were committed to Harrison. Thurlow Weed had hopes that the two Pennsylvania delegations, one for Clay and the other for Harrison, would cancel each other out and boost Winfield Scott's chances as a compromise alternative.101 OFFICIALLY LABELED THE Democratic Whig National Convention, the gathering opened proceedings at Harrisburg on December 4, 1839, in the Old Zion Lutheran Church on Fourth Street. It was a historic assemblage, for it would actually nominate a presidential candidate rather than ratify a decision already made somewhere else. As a consequence, a great deal of uncharted ground lay before the delegates, and the prize was accordingly destined to fall to those who were most organized and able to map their way. As much as Clay had anything resembling an organization, it was based on promoting the American System. Clay supporters recruited followers based on their adherence to that program and their commitment to its advancement. That tie was supposed to bind them to Henry Clay, the American System's most constant advocate, making issues the dominant theme of the campaign. Moreover, Clay's strategy appealed to state and local leaders, confident that the rank and file would follow. Democratic Whig National Convention, the gathering opened proceedings at Harrisburg on December 4, 1839, in the Old Zion Lutheran Church on Fourth Street. It was a historic assemblage, for it would actually nominate a presidential candidate rather than ratify a decision already made somewhere else. As a consequence, a great deal of uncharted ground lay before the delegates, and the prize was accordingly destined to fall to those who were most organized and able to map their way. As much as Clay had anything resembling an organization, it was based on promoting the American System. Clay supporters recruited followers based on their adherence to that program and their commitment to its advancement. That tie was supposed to bind them to Henry Clay, the American System's most constant advocate, making issues the dominant theme of the campaign. Moreover, Clay's strategy appealed to state and local leaders, confident that the rank and file would follow.

Yet it was a dubious political approach in 1839. With the exception of Clay's New York tour the previous summer, his calls to action went out to lieutenants in the Whig leadership. Enthusiasm at the grass roots was presumably just supposed to happen, like the currents of a river cutting a new channel according to the laws of nature. In part this certainty arose from Clay's belief that sensible people would find his program sensible, but it was also a result of his distaste for electioneering, something he briefly overcame that summer, but only after much soul-searching, after protests that he was not really campaigning, and finally after the realization of a compelling need to make his case with the people, at least in Upstate New York. Clay's reluctance gave the impression that he was aloof and lacked the common touch at a time when Jacksonian Democrats had made the common touch an essential part of popular politics.

It was not true, of course, that Clay was aloof. Rather, he represented a different time and a more sedate sort of election politics. He was never able to understand, in any case, how it was possible for men like Weed to say that the people did not want him, when clearly the people were keen about him. It was rather the state leadership who opposed him, and he thought it incredible, exasperating, and undemocratic that while "eight or nine tenths of the Whigs" in New York preferred him, Weed and his ilk "preferred to make a nomination in conformity with the wishes of the one or two tenths."102 Even if men like Weed had found Clay politically appealing (and they did not), they would have regarded him as damaged goods because they did not believe in much of anything beyond victory at the polls. Clay's approach had already failed in 1832. A campaign based on issues had revealed itself to be nothing more than a sure way to lose elections.103 Weed could claim that he wanted to reject Clay to spare him the "mortification" of certain defeat, but he was really more interested in not losing the opportunity for certain victory against an unpopular president. Like Stevens, Weed was not a delegate, but also like Stevens, he attended sessions in Harrisburg as a ubiquitous presence. He tirelessly promoted Winfield Scott, just as Stevens did William Henry Harrison. Given a level playing field, these two, acting too clever by half, could have maneuvered themselves and their champions out of the picture. Yet they made sure the field was anything but level, and each in a different way exerted considerable control through disciplined organizations. The evidence of their cunning was their ability to block Clay, whose candidacy was actually quite hardy when the gavel first came down and the convention began establishing its rules. Weed could claim that he wanted to reject Clay to spare him the "mortification" of certain defeat, but he was really more interested in not losing the opportunity for certain victory against an unpopular president. Like Stevens, Weed was not a delegate, but also like Stevens, he attended sessions in Harrisburg as a ubiquitous presence. He tirelessly promoted Winfield Scott, just as Stevens did William Henry Harrison. Given a level playing field, these two, acting too clever by half, could have maneuvered themselves and their champions out of the picture. Yet they made sure the field was anything but level, and each in a different way exerted considerable control through disciplined organizations. The evidence of their cunning was their ability to block Clay, whose candidacy was actually quite hardy when the gavel first came down and the convention began establishing its rules.

Clay's candidacy was strongest, but it was also beset by difficulties. His support was most solid in the South, but southerners were underrepresented in the convention because Georgia, South Carolina, and Tennessee did not send delegations, for the reasons that Clay had feared, and the delegate from Arkansas was too late in arriving.104 Clay's most serious problem, though, arose from the torpor of his operatives, who let the convention spin away from them by agreeing to incredibly damaging compromises and rules. Resolving Pennsylvania's confused situation resulted in an agreement that nullified Clay's significant minority support in the Keystone State. The Chambersburg (Clay) delegation was combined with the more numerous "Harmony" (Harrison) delegation, making the latter the majority and giving Thaddeus Stevens control of Pennsylvania's vote. Clay's most serious problem, though, arose from the torpor of his operatives, who let the convention spin away from them by agreeing to incredibly damaging compromises and rules. Resolving Pennsylvania's confused situation resulted in an agreement that nullified Clay's significant minority support in the Keystone State. The Chambersburg (Clay) delegation was combined with the more numerous "Harmony" (Harrison) delegation, making the latter the majority and giving Thaddeus Stevens control of Pennsylvania's vote.

But the method of balloting that the convention adopted dealt Clay's chances the worst blow. Harrison delegates from Massachusetts-Webster's former but no less spiteful partisans were at work-cooperated with Pennsylvanian Charles Penrose (Stevens's lieutenant) to install what amounted to a unit rule for counting state ballots. Employing a convoluted process of secret votes polled through committees, a state's majority would count as a winner-take-all result. The procedure instantly made Clay's numerous minority votes in New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio immaterial, votes that otherwise would have helped advance him toward the nomination in a straightforward poll. Clay supporters did not realize how they had been bested until it was too late, and when Clay's cousin Cassius Clay tried before the decisive final ballot to have all the delegates polled and Maryland supporter Reverdy Johnson tried to restore individual balloting, they were summarily slammed down. Thomas Hart Benton later called these shrewd maneuvers by Weed, Stevens, and others a mixture of "algebra and alchemy" and correctly concluded that they had meant the "political death of Mr. Clay."105 Yet not right away. Clay even led on the first ballot with 103 votes to Harrison's 91 and Scott's 57, but that plurality was as close as he ever got to the majority of 128 necessary for the nomination. Weed immediately went to work to seize the momentum by persuading anyone who would listen that Clay's slender numbers revealed he could not win the general election. He managed to peel Connecticut away from Clay and to end a deadlock in the Michigan delegation, throwing both states into Scott's column. The result was that Clay slipped on the second ballot to 95 while Scott's numbers increased to 68. Harrison held steady at 91. Thaddeus Stevens then made his move. Scott's momentum could have been decisive at this point, and Weed was preparing to approach the Virginia delegation to persuade it to make the switch from Clay. But Stevens was just as diligent and even more devious than Weed. The grim Pennsylvanian limped frowning among the delegates, seemingly without purpose, but his object was to drop a piece of paper, seemingly by accident, in the midst of the Virginians, who promptly examined it. The document shocked them. It was a letter from Winfield Scott to New Yorker Francis Granger currying favor with New York antislavery forces. Nobody ever discovered how Stevens came by the letter, but the Virginians immediately announced that they would never support Scott, which meant an ebbing Clay would make Harrison the nominee.106 Virginia's declaration in fact broke the dam. Weed was stunned at first, but he quickly realized that without the South, Scott didn't stand a chance. He moved just as quickly to swing the Scott votes he controlled into line with Harrison to prevent Clay from scooping them up. The proverbial bandwagon now came into play as more and more Scott delegates scrambled aboard for Harrison. Even a handful of Clay supporters joined them. The third and final ballot gave Harrison the nomination with 148 votes, 20 more than he needed. Clay had dropped to 90, and poor Scott, who would never learn his lesson about writing foolish letters, stood at a mere 16. While the manipulations of northerners like Weed and Stevens were the most apparent causes of Clay's defeat, it was ironically southerners who really lost him the nomination: those who would have voted for him didn't show up, and those who did show up made the avowal that wrecked Scott, whose numbers went to Harrison.107 The choice of Harrison flabbergasted those southerners, and Clay stalwarts, regardless of section, were livid over what they regarded as a contemptible intrigue. Although the choice was eventually unanimous, thanks in large part to Henry Clay, Thurlow Weed nervously surveyed Clay's angry supporters and gauged the unity as "anything but cordial."108 The convention now strained to conciliate southerners and Clay's friends by selecting a southerner who was also a friend of Clay's for the vice presidency. The ballot nominating Harrison occurred near midnight on Friday, December 6, and urgent negotiations by the Weed-Stevens organizations to complete the ticket continued into the wee hours of Saturday. Yet finding an avowed Clay supporter who was willing to run with Harrison proved easier said than done. Reverdy Johnson announced that neither he nor John M. Clayton, who was not at Harrisburg, would accept. Benjamin Watkins Leigh also refused. Thurlow Weed was possibly telling the truth that the inability to find a Clay southerner finally compelled the choice of at least some southerner willing to accept, and that turned out to be John Tyler. Many believed at the time that Tyler was a Clay southerner, for he had been committed to Clay during the convention and was described by Greeley as weeping over his defeat. Whether Tyler cried that Friday night or not, he cheerfully and eagerly accepted the convention's nearly unanimous nomination the next day. Leigh announced that Virginia would refrain from voting for one of its own members. Possibly the Old Dominion's delegation did act from a sense of "delicacy," as Leigh tactfully explained. The convention now strained to conciliate southerners and Clay's friends by selecting a southerner who was also a friend of Clay's for the vice presidency. The ballot nominating Harrison occurred near midnight on Friday, December 6, and urgent negotiations by the Weed-Stevens organizations to complete the ticket continued into the wee hours of Saturday. Yet finding an avowed Clay supporter who was willing to run with Harrison proved easier said than done. Reverdy Johnson announced that neither he nor John M. Clayton, who was not at Harrisburg, would accept. Benjamin Watkins Leigh also refused. Thurlow Weed was possibly telling the truth that the inability to find a Clay southerner finally compelled the choice of at least some southerner willing to accept, and that turned out to be John Tyler. Many believed at the time that Tyler was a Clay southerner, for he had been committed to Clay during the convention and was described by Greeley as weeping over his defeat. Whether Tyler cried that Friday night or not, he cheerfully and eagerly accepted the convention's nearly unanimous nomination the next day. Leigh announced that Virginia would refrain from voting for one of its own members. Possibly the Old Dominion's delegation did act from a sense of "delicacy," as Leigh tactfully explained.109 The convention adjourned without declaring any fixed principles, an omission that, along with their issueless but appealing nominee, contributed to the myth that the Whigs did not actually stand for anything. Nobody seems to have given any additional thought to the selection of John Tyler. His task was merely "to be," that is to say, to balance the ticket and, as some thought, to placate Clay by the simple fact of being placed on it. The Virginia delegation's behavior, however, was an early warning sign. Tyler was an honorable man, but his mild demeanor disguised obstinacy and pride, which his fellow Virginians had glimpsed before. His resignation in 1836 over the Expunging Resolution struck some as grandstanding, and it had made Benjamin Watkins Leigh appear indecisive. The protracted contest with Rives over the Senate seat had also created ill will. Yet, as the delegates finished up at Harrisburg, nobody seemed to have given any additional thoughts, cheerful or foreboding, to the selection of John Tyler.110 When it was all over, Clay certainly had a right to be bitter, because his friends' inactivity as much as his enemies' machinations had cost him the nomination. More than three decades later, Henry A. Wise described Clay's reaction to the selection of Harrison in colorful but extremely unflattering terms. Wise said that Clay on the evening of December 6 had been drinking heavily and upon hearing the news from Harrisburg exploded into a drunken, profane rage. Stalking back and forth, he reportedly shouted, "My friends are not worth the powder and shot it would take to kill them!" Wise said that he and friends had tried to calm Clay, but he would not be stopped: "It is a diabolical intrigue, I know now, which has betrayed me. I am the most unfortunate man in the history of parties: always run by my friends when sure to be defeated, and now betrayed for a nomination when I, or anyone, would be sure of an election." Wise also recalled that from that moment until February 1844, Clay "was excessively intemperate in his habits, and more intemperate in exacerbation of temper and in his political conduct." Wise cited an alleged confrontation with Winfield Scott at a reception in Boulanger's restaurant as well as Clay's irritable conduct in the Senate to indicate that in disappointment, the Kentuckian had become a mean drunk.111 Wise's account and reproachful observations did not appear until 1872, and though they contained references to others witnessing Clay's embarrassing behavior, Wise was the only person ever to recall it. It soon became part of the Clay lore, however. In 1887, Lucius P. Little published a lengthy and admiring biography of Kentuckian Ben Hardin, a political opponent of Clay's, that drew freely on the reminiscences of Wise and other Clay adversaries. John Pope, for example, was said to have been relieved by the result at Harrisburg because of Clay's overweening ambition. "We should have witnessed in America all the extravagancies of the Bonaparte dynasty, and hazarded all the calamities it brought upon France," Pope was alleged to have said, leaving one to wonder what on earth he was talking about. Lucius Little also elaborated on Clay's encounter with Scott that was supposed to have occurred at a Washington banquet Scott gave for Harrison after the Harrisburg convention. "I am happy to meet you, Mr. Clay," Scott said with his hand extended. "I'll be d-d if you are, General Scott," Clay supposedly replied. Recall that the previous summer they had both been at Saratoga at the United States Hotel. At the time, Clay knew that Weed and Seward were supporting Scott but nevertheless remained on jovial terms with him.112 Clay's biographers have always repeated these anecdotes, sometimes with the caveat that Wise became Clay's unswerving foe in the early 1840s. One of Tyler's biographers, however, discounted much of what Wise said as having been supplied "by a vivid imagination," and the editors of Clay's papers simply dismiss the Virginian's account as a fabrication.113 Too often these stories have been given too much credence. Not until their appearance in the 1870s and 1880s did a single report describe Clay's response to the Harrisburg convention in this way. At the time, anti-Clay newspapers only said, also without evidence, that he was disappointed over being "politically dead" or lampooned his generous replies to Whig testimonials. Too often these stories have been given too much credence. Not until their appearance in the 1870s and 1880s did a single report describe Clay's response to the Harrisburg convention in this way. At the time, anti-Clay newspapers only said, also without evidence, that he was disappointed over being "politically dead" or lampooned his generous replies to Whig testimonials.114 The documentary evidence supplies a completely different picture. Weeks before Whigs gathered at Harrisburg, Clay on November 20, 1839, supplied Kentucky delegates to the convention with a letter in which he said that if he were not chosen, "the nomination will have my best wishes, and receive my cordial support." Leslie Combs read this letter to the convention on December 7, and it did much to relieve a tense situation. In addition, Clay partisan Reverdy Johnson, angry about the manipulations of Weed and Stevens but obeying Clay's call for unity, proposed that the Harrison and Tyler nominations be made unanimous.115 Clay wrote to his son Thomas within days of Harrison's nomination to say that "I should be sorry that you or any of my friends or connexions should display any irritation or dissatisfaction about it." He told Henry Jr. exactly the same thing. Clay wrote to his son Thomas within days of Harrison's nomination to say that "I should be sorry that you or any of my friends or connexions should display any irritation or dissatisfaction about it." He told Henry Jr. exactly the same thing.116 When Whig delegates from eighteen of the twenty-two states at the convention attended a testimonial dinner for Clay at Brown's Hotel in Washington on December 11, 1839, twenty-four speakers praised him for his high-mindedness, and he responded with a glowing testimonial to Harrison. Clay insisted that the upcoming election was not about himself or Webster or Scott. "Vote heartily," he told them, "vote heartily, as I shall, for the nomination which has been made." He concluded to lusty applause that "not men, but principles, are our rules of action." When Whig delegates from eighteen of the twenty-two states at the convention attended a testimonial dinner for Clay at Brown's Hotel in Washington on December 11, 1839, twenty-four speakers praised him for his high-mindedness, and he responded with a glowing testimonial to Harrison. Clay insisted that the upcoming election was not about himself or Webster or Scott. "Vote heartily," he told them, "vote heartily, as I shall, for the nomination which has been made." He concluded to lusty applause that "not men, but principles, are our rules of action."117 Harrison later thanked him for "the magnanimity of your conduct towards me in relation to the nomination for the Presidency." Harrison later thanked him for "the magnanimity of your conduct towards me in relation to the nomination for the Presidency."118 In addition to these public and private statements, Clay actively campaigned for the ticket by delivering almost a dozen major addresses in 1840, most notably during a tour in Virginia, a large rally at Baltimore, and a visit to Nashville, Tennessee. To those who wavered and found little good in Harrison's candidacy, Clay was insistent that "with Harrison there is hope, much hope, with V. Buren there is no hope whatever."119 Rather than nursing a grudge, he felt like "a free man, at liberty to pursue my own inclinations, and unembarrassed by 10 or 12 months of turmoil." At least part of him apparently agreed with the correspondent who also found a silver lining in the failed bid for the nomination by observing that to contend for the presidency, "a man has to give up his own self respect or every hour give offense to some pedagogue that stands over him with uplifted rod."120 DEMOCRATS GATHERED AT Baltimore and halfheartedly nominated Van Buren for another run, despite his connection to the country's financial distress, again in full sway by early 1839. They were accustomed to Jackson's popularity winning the White House, even for his successor, and they now faced the prospect of having the tactic turned on them. Baltimore and halfheartedly nominated Van Buren for another run, despite his connection to the country's financial distress, again in full sway by early 1839. They were accustomed to Jackson's popularity winning the White House, even for his successor, and they now faced the prospect of having the tactic turned on them.121 The Whigs called the president "Martin Van Ruin" and set about making their aging nominee into a reasonable Whig facsimile of Old Hickory. They referred to Harrison as "Tippecanoe" or "Old Tip" to revive memories of his victory at Prophetstown on Tippecanoe Creek in 1811. He insisted that he was still strong and vigorous. Throughout the campaign, he repeated, as if by rote, that his "bodily health" was "actually better than it has been for ten years."122 Nationally, the lack of a platform helped Whigs avoid inconvenient pledges that might have alienated this or that faction within the party. They instead concentrated on elevating Old Tip to the presidency with songs and symbols. Shortly after the Harrisburg convention, a dim-witted Democrat journalist accidentally gave them the most potent of those symbols. Asked by a disappointed Clay supporter how to persuade Harrison to withdraw in Clay's favor, the reporter scoffed that Harrison would be content with a pension, a log cabin, and a barrel of hard cider.123 Within weeks, Whigs had merrily adopted the hard cider barrel and rude log cabin as badges of honor. On January 20, 1840, a couple of enterprising Pennsylvanians came up with the idea of projecting a large transparency on a wall. The picture purported to show Harrison's cabin complete with coonskin cap and cider barrel. Armed with these rousing symbols, the campaign took on the air of a religious revival.124 Harrison was peddled as the plain but virtuous Ohio farmer, reluctant but willing to answer his country's call and toss out crooked Democrat spoilsmen. Of course, candidate Harrison bore little resemblance to the real Harrison, who was not of lowly birth but hailed from a prominent Virginia family. He did not live in humble poverty, did not sleep in a one-room log cabin, and preferred whiskey to hard cider. In fact, putting Harrison over as a man of modest origins was a remarkable feat. Far from residing in a simple log cabin, he lived in a sixteen-room mansion on a farm that stretched across three thousand acres near North Bend, Ohio. Harrison was peddled as the plain but virtuous Ohio farmer, reluctant but willing to answer his country's call and toss out crooked Democrat spoilsmen. Of course, candidate Harrison bore little resemblance to the real Harrison, who was not of lowly birth but hailed from a prominent Virginia family. He did not live in humble poverty, did not sleep in a one-room log cabin, and preferred whiskey to hard cider. In fact, putting Harrison over as a man of modest origins was a remarkable feat. Far from residing in a simple log cabin, he lived in a sixteen-room mansion on a farm that stretched across three thousand acres near North Bend, Ohio.

Even more remarkably, Whigs distorted the public's perception of Martin Van Buren. His youth had been truly impoverished, but Whigs branded him a pompous blue blood. They called him "Sweet Sandy Whiskers," claiming that he perfumed his muttonchops, wore corsets, and preferred sissified French cuisine over hearty American fare. Worst of all, they erroneously reported him as turning the White House into an opulent palace at public expense. Old Tip wore simple homespun and swigged hard cider, Whigs boasted, while Little Van donned ruffled shirts and sipped champagne, a frivolous fop, a contemptible squirt.125 Enormous Whig rallies and long lines of Whigs marched while chanting slogans emphasizing the failure of Van Buren's financial policies. Entrepreneurs hawked log cabin symbolism in every way imaginable. Yet by far the most memorable device of the campaign was the Whig slogan "Tippecanoe and Tyler Too," which combined Harrison's bona fides as a military hero with alliteration on his running mate's name, a phrase that the aristocratic Philip Hone sniffed provided "rhyme, but no reason."126 Inspired by the campaign's official beverage, cider-guzzling Whigs howled the slogan as they pushed large balls through towns and villages to represent the snowballing majority for Harrison. Such hogwash seemed to substitute for serious discussion, and ever since, most historians have insisted that hullabaloo and flummery dominated the 1840 campaign. Inspired by the campaign's official beverage, cider-guzzling Whigs howled the slogan as they pushed large balls through towns and villages to represent the snowballing majority for Harrison. Such hogwash seemed to substitute for serious discussion, and ever since, most historians have insisted that hullabaloo and flummery dominated the 1840 campaign.

Democrats and Whigs, however, held different beliefs and promoted different positions, and the people were quite aware of those differences and the choices available to them. Whigs existed for other reasons than opposing Andrew Jackson, and despite their diversity they developed a coherent political philosophy and became a rational ideological movement. True enough, differences among party members presented a bundle of contradictions: the party was a home for Masons (like Clay) and Antimasons (like Thaddeus Stevens), supporters of the tariff, proponents of free trade, planters with slaves, northern abolitionists, national bank advocates, national bank opponents, devotees of the American System, foes of the American System. Yet Democrats presented just as many contradictions. Jacksonians claimed to exalt individual liberty and ferociously condemned anything that smacked of "privilege," but they enforced party discipline by punishing individualism and rewarding conformity with a patronage system that nurtured the very privilege they decried. They had, grumbled Clay, "without the smallest pretense of right to the denomination, erroneously assumed the name of Democrats, and ... under color of that name, they have made rapid and fearful progress in consolidating an elective monarchy." They had denounced the BUS while trying to create a government bank and had denounced internal improvements while funding expensive projects under other labels. In fact, Jacksonians were not opposed to a national bank but were specifically opposed to Biddle's bank because it posed as a huge pool of patronage beyond their control. The attitude, as one economic historian has noted, threw them into wild inconsistencies.127 Though Democrats claimed to represent the common people and characterized the Whigs as elites, both parties attracted Americans from all classes and sections. The widely diverse membership was healthy because it encouraged compromise and kept factions from adopting extreme positions or pushing for drastic measures. Party strength throughout the nation also delayed the formation of sectional political blocs, such as an inflexible southern one defending slavery or a northern one assaulting it, though that day was coming. For the time being, most Democrats and Whigs avoided the slavery controversy because it divided their northern and southern wings and jeopardized their chances in national elections. When Calhoun notably abandoned this prudence to adopt a take-no-prisoners approach in late 1838, he offered a revealing glimpse of Democrat objections to other aspects of the Whig program. For example, Democrat hostility to internal improvements stemmed as much from the desire to protect slavery as from constitutional scruples. At a time when southerners were committed to preserving the status quo, an economy transformed by a market revolution promised diversity and all the unwelcome changes that came with it. In addition, a government capable of central planning would also have the power in theory to abolish slavery.128 Americans were conscious of the differences between the parties, even when those differences took the form of general abstractions. Because Democrats said that the native intelligence of good, sturdy Americans would embrace and protect liberty as a natural exercise, they saw publicly funded schools as unnecessary. Whigs believed that ignorance was the path to tyranny and that only an educated citizenry could preserve its liberty. Democrats were suspicious of social reformers; Whigs promoted moral reform, especially temperance, despite the hard cider symbolism of 1840. Moreover, Whigs saw society as naturally harmonious, regarded community as an engine of progress, and believed government should promote economic growth and national development, while Democrats fiercely protected states' rights and insisted on keeping federal involvement in social and economic matters at the barest minimum. As Van Buren had shown in response to the panic, Democrats believed that allowing matters to sort themselves out was the best way to handle economic distress. Whigs wanted the government to establish a national bank to stabilize the currency, wanted protective tariffs to promote American industry, wanted internal improvements to facilitate American commerce. Democrats wanted an expanding, expansive "agricultural empire" and consequently pushed for Texas annexation and later fought a war to acquire California. Whigs wanted economic improvement through internal improvements and recoiled from expansionism. Clay thought the country was large enough and should focus on developing what it had, especially since acquiring new territory always caused harmful arguments over slavery. Webster even envisioned a partitioning of North America into three republics, with the United States controlling the East, Texas the Southwest, and California the West.129 Whigs were a motley bunch, but they did have a vision for the country that they expressed in concrete terms. Democrats wrote a platform at the Baltimore convention, but their positions more resembled a bundle of attitudes than they did a consistent ideology. They exalted local control of affairs and sought to preserve it through strict party loyalty. The Whigs did not care for political parties and formed one only because, as Clay pointed out, it proved impossible to win elections without it. Political parties "can only ... be extinguished," he conceded, "by extinguishing their cause, free Government, a free press, and freedom of opinion."130 On the national stage, Clay himself addressed specifics of the Whig agenda during his New York tour in the summer of 1839 and then during his campaign speeches for Harrison in early 1840. The party did not believe it could elect Henry Clay in 1840, but that did not mean it did not stand for anything. As a first principle, Whigs were committed to ending petty and palpable corruptions in government institutionalized by the Spoils System and by disgraceful political tactics to keep incumbents in power. Clay thought such practices simply "demoralizing."

Misrepresentation, falsehood, bribery, forgery, perjury, corruption of the Ballot boxes, have all been established upon members of that [Democrat] party. When one party employs such means, sooner or later, in self defense and from necessity, the other party will be tempted to appeal to the same arts. And the corruption of the whole mass will quickly follow. Then, farewell to Liberty.131 For Whigs, protecting American liberty was a paramount obligation and just as important as repairing the economy. By running for office on a party ticket, a candidate necessarily pledged to carry out the party's program if elected. The people rightly expected it. The people would have known precisely what they were getting with Henry Clay. At the time of the Harrisburg convention, however, William Henry Harrison's most appealing feature for shrewd Whig politicos was that his views on issues were at best vaguely apprehended. He was attractive precisely because he had no issues to harm him and no enemies to assail him. But he too understood his responsibility to stand with the people who worked for his election and at least not block their way after victory. "I have made promises of great amendments amendments in the administration of public affairs," Tom Corwin declared, "& I do not wish to be made out a liar & fool both, by the history of the first six months of the in the administration of public affairs," Tom Corwin declared, "& I do not wish to be made out a liar & fool both, by the history of the first six months of the new era. new era."132 As Whigs marched on the campaign trail in 1840, they had assurances from Harrison himself that in victory he would not frustrate them, would not make them appear to be liars and fools. He did not come out explicitly for a new national bank, for instance, but he made clear that if Congress felt one was needed, he would not stand in the way.133 It was a reassuring endorsement of legislative supremacy, another first principle for Whigs, and such statements by Harrison comforted Clay and his friends. It was a reassuring endorsement of legislative supremacy, another first principle for Whigs, and such statements by Harrison comforted Clay and his friends.

Nobody seems to have given much thought to John Tyler's opinions on the matter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Three Campaigns THERE IS AN old saying that troubles come in threes. In the years following Clay's disappointment at the Harrisburg convention, he would be a living illustration of it. During that time, he waged three campaigns, all interconnected but each having different objectives. One was the immediate effort to get Harrison elected. Concurrent with that effort was Clay's own bid to follow Harrison in the presidency in 1844. He planned to begin staking his claim for Whig loyalty with selfless and energetic exertions for the party and Old Tip. He counted on Harrison's pledge that he would serve only one term and looked beyond the old man to other possible rivals. old saying that troubles come in threes. In the years following Clay's disappointment at the Harrisburg convention, he would be a living illustration of it. During that time, he waged three campaigns, all interconnected but each having different objectives. One was the immediate effort to get Harrison elected. Concurrent with that effort was Clay's own bid to follow Harrison in the presidency in 1844. He planned to begin staking his claim for Whig loyalty with selfless and energetic exertions for the party and Old Tip. He counted on Harrison's pledge that he would serve only one term and looked beyond the old man to other possible rivals.1 The third campaign was economic, and involved reviving the national bank to stabilize the currency, sustaining a protective tariff to promote industry, and distributing land revenues to the states that in turn would be used to fund internal improvements. Clay was reasonably confident that the realization of the Whig program would be relatively easy. He was certain that he could persuade Whig majorities in Congress to pass it, and that he could rely on Harrison's assurance of executive passivity to sign it into law.

The third campaign, though, proved the adage about troubles coming in threes. A development that shocked the country was the cause, although Clay himself had both dreaded and expected its occurrence. No foresight or preemptive action could have prevented what happened-the devastation of the Whig program and the near destruction of the party-and nothing but Clay's abject surrender to circumstance would have prevented many from settling on him almost all the blame for what happened. Yet the die setting up the debacle had been cast by other hands in another place long before. It had been cast at Harrisburg by men who had wanted to win the election at all costs. When it all went wrong, it was easier to blame Clay.

CLAY AND HIS slave Charles Dupuy moved into Mrs. Denny's boardinghouse on Third Street for the first session of the Twenty-sixth Congress, but later moved to rooms at Mrs. Arguelles's. slave Charles Dupuy moved into Mrs. Denny's boardinghouse on Third Street for the first session of the Twenty-sixth Congress, but later moved to rooms at Mrs. Arguelles's.2 Even with the glowing accolades of the Brown's Hotel banquet still in his ears, Clay was uncharacteristically melancholy that winter. He had a nagging cold, and the weather was bitter as an occluded front dropped enormous amounts of snow on the capital. John had traveled to Missouri and wound up "entirely dissatisfied with it," as Clay had expected, but now as John headed back to Ashland "in the dead of winter," Clay was uneasy until he knew that the boy had reached home. "This is the last winter that I shall be separated from you, whilst we both live," he promised Lucretia, and likely he meant it, at the time. Even with the glowing accolades of the Brown's Hotel banquet still in his ears, Clay was uncharacteristically melancholy that winter. He had a nagging cold, and the weather was bitter as an occluded front dropped enormous amounts of snow on the capital. John had traveled to Missouri and wound up "entirely dissatisfied with it," as Clay had expected, but now as John headed back to Ashland "in the dead of winter," Clay was uneasy until he knew that the boy had reached home. "This is the last winter that I shall be separated from you, whilst we both live," he promised Lucretia, and likely he meant it, at the time.3 In Washington, drafty rooms resisted the efforts of even the most cheerful fires to warm them, and going anywhere outdoors became an exasperating ordeal. Such winters made "small folks still smaller," said one Virginian. "It chills the blood and makes us irritable which makes us disagreeable to others as well as ourselves." Little wonder then that Clay's work in the Senate was marked by increasing irritability. The House of Representatives reminded Clay's grandson Martin Duralde "of a parcel of schoolboys," but Clay had grown weary of many colleagues in the upper chamber as well, often finding them dim or venal, sometimes both. The discovery that members were abusing their mileage allowance calculations and engaging in small corruptions with the franking privilege and with printing, fuel, and stationery allowances appalled Clay. He promoted efforts to clean this up by limiting benefits such as the stationery allowance to $20.4 But it was the larger and recurring issues that summoned his fiercest responses. In mid-January, Democrats led by New Yorker Silas Wright, the chairman of the Senate Finance Committee, brought up the Subtreasury bill for debate yet again. Clay was on fairly civil terms with Wright, but he regarded these dogs with their Subtreasury bone increasingly tedious, and he now so vehemently clashed with the finance chair that it briefly brought the Senate to a standstill. Wright was overmatched. "His voice is not melodious," admitted a friendly description, "though after listening to it a short time it becomes not unpleasing." It was hardly a qualification for going into verbal battle with Henry Clay. He also squabbled with Mississippi senator Robert Walker-"little Walker," in Clay's estimation-whom he reported to Lucretia that he had "scornfully repelled. My friends said that I annihilated him."5 Calhoun was also involved in this debate, though, and that spelled trouble. Calhoun had hoped that Clay or Webster would carp about Harrison's nomination in order to divide the Whigs and leave an opening for him to run, but Whig unity had forced the South Carolinian to continue his rapprochement with Van Buren. He attended the president's New Year's Day reception at the White House, where the two whispered plans for a private meeting. The result was the revival of the president's darling, the Subtreasury, this time with Calhoun's influential support. Clay wearily went unto the breach. He voiced the same objections and advanced the same arguments he had spoken in the seemingly countless previous debates on this question, but Van Buren was obviously determined to have this victory, Pyrrhic though it might be. As the bill assumed the shape of an idee fixe, at least for the Democrats supporting it, Clay angrily deduced that he was fighting a determination to continue voting on this measure until Congress got it right, at least by the administration's lights. Calhoun's trimming and turning especially annoyed him, and the Democrat press complained that Clay repeatedly singled out the South Carolinian as "the special object of his wrath this winter."6 Clay lost his temper as he hoarsely ran through the now familiar litany of Jacksonian transgressions, including the Spoils System that corrupted the public service and the excessive executive authority that threatened to make the president a despot. Van Buren had perpetuated these ills, Clay growled, and his cronies had sullied government while wrecking the economy. There was, he shouted, "a day of reckoning at hand."7 On January 23, 1840, Van Buren finally saw his Subtreasury plan pass the Senate with a slim six-vote majority, thanks to his alliance with Calhoun. The work to secure passage in the House would be more difficult and consume six additional months of debate and maneuver, but this latest fight only made Clay more determined to put aside his distaste for campaigning and help elect Harrison. He exhorted Whigs to "tell your constituents of the nomination-of a bleeding Constitution-of the Executive power against which we are waging a war of extermination-of executive machinery and executive favor-of one President nominating his successor and that successor his successor. Tell them to put forth all the energies they possess to relieve the land from the curse which rests upon it."8 In February, as Clay prepared for a campaign trip to Richmond, he wrote to Henry Jr., who had taken his father's loss of the Harrisburg nomination particularly hard. Henry Jr. looked at the whole world somberly, an inescapable consequence of his temperament, but Clay was happy that Julia Prather, pretty, clever, and lighthearted, had found his son. She tempered his brown studies and was in the process of filling his life with little Clays, though that too was cause for concern because childbearing had not been easy for her, with two daughters, Matilda and Martha, dying in infancy. They were expecting a new arrival any day, though, and Clay was eager for news. Soon he learned that Thomas Julian Clay (always "Tommy" to the family) had come into the world.9 Days later, however, another letter arrived from Henry with the terrible news that Julia was dead. Complications from Tommy's birth were the cause. Clay spent a sleepless night before writing to his son the next morning-the news "was so sudden and appalling," he said-and the distraught tone of Henry Jr.'s letter that revealed a man quite overwhelmed by grief worried him. Clay gently reminded his son that Julia had left him "tender & responsible duties to perform towards the children of your mutual love and affection." Clay could not help but remember in vivid detail the wretchedness of that cruel December five years earlier when Anne had died, and in the same way as Julia, her fate also marking a time both of birth and of death. "I beg therefore, on my account, as well as that of my dear Grand children," Clay said to his shattered boy, "you will take care of yourself."10 CLAY'S HEART WAS out of the Richmond trip, but so many extensive arrangements had been made that he decided to go. out of the Richmond trip, but so many extensive arrangements had been made that he decided to go.11 He left for Richmond with Henry A. Wise, who was ailing with a severe sore throat that made speaking difficult. A large crowd awaited their arrival at the city's railroad depot and escorted them to the Powhattan House, where Benjamin Watkins Leigh introduced him to a gathered throng. People had come from all over the state for the Whig rally, some even braving horrid roads. William Bolling, a friend from Clay's youth, was among them. Clay was consoled by these companions, and Bolling found his old friend at Leigh's residence for tea. Frank Brooke was there too, and the group talked well into the night before returning to the Powhattan He left for Richmond with Henry A. Wise, who was ailing with a severe sore throat that made speaking difficult. A large crowd awaited their arrival at the city's railroad depot and escorted them to the Powhattan House, where Benjamin Watkins Leigh introduced him to a gathered throng. People had come from all over the state for the Whig rally, some even braving horrid roads. William Bolling, a friend from Clay's youth, was among them. Clay was consoled by these companions, and Bolling found his old friend at Leigh's residence for tea. Frank Brooke was there too, and the group talked well into the night before returning to the Powhattan. In many ways it was just what Clay needed, and he was soon glad that he had made the trip. In many ways it was just what Clay needed, and he was soon glad that he had made the trip.12 The next day, a grand dinner was held in honor of their famous guest, an event touted as "the greatest ever given in Richmond, or perhaps in the United States" and so largely attended that it had to be held in an enormous warehouse. William Bolling came in through the door set aside for invited guests and thus managed to sit near Clay and hear "the The next day, a grand dinner was held in honor of their famous guest, an event touted as "the greatest ever given in Richmond, or perhaps in the United States" and so largely attended that it had to be held in an enormous warehouse. William Bolling came in through the door set aside for invited guests and thus managed to sit near Clay and hear "the greatest Orator, greatest Orator, & the & the greatest man greatest man & & patriot patriot now living in these United States." now living in these United States."13 Clay used this speech to enlarge the revision of his early history for current political circumstances, consciously adding to the creation of the boy who never was, an image of "a lank, lean youth of twenty, with sandy hair and ruddy complexion, fatherless, homeless, friendless, and penniless" who had left Richmond those many years ago "to seek his fortune in the 'far West.'"14 The audience was both captured by the fiction and captivated by his telling of it, including those whose personal recollections of young Clay, even if dim, were most certainly and decidedly different from this new account. It did not matter. The huge gathering was pin-drop silent, which made the frequent eruptions of thunderous applause echoing through the warehouse all the more deafening. The audience was both captured by the fiction and captivated by his telling of it, including those whose personal recollections of young Clay, even if dim, were most certainly and decidedly different from this new account. It did not matter. The huge gathering was pin-drop silent, which made the frequent eruptions of thunderous applause echoing through the warehouse all the more deafening.15 John Tyler was there, arriving after everyone had already begun eating, but he was immediately introduced by Benjamin Watkins Leigh and spoke very briefly, insisting that he had merely come to honor Clay, whom he lavishly praised. Interestingly, though, "he avoided political allusions as improper in consideration of his position at this time."16 The journey coming so close to the news of Julia's death put Clay in a reflective frame of mind, and his swing through Hanover County on the way back to Washington only increased his pensiveness. The stop at the Slashes was bittersweet. He had not been there for almost fifty years, and he found everything so changed as to be unrecognizable. His maternal grandparents' and his father's graves were not only without markers but also under a wheat field. A row of cherry trees partly remained, but he noted that like him, they were aged and frail. The hickory tree that had produced "the finest fruit of that kind which I ever tasted" was down and rotting. The house once called Clay's Spring still stood but had been considerably altered, though Clay identified the room where he had been born. He met only one person he remembered from the old days, an elderly woman of eighty, a cousin of his mother's and "evidently not long for this world." He visited the church where he had first attended school, but it too "was in a decayed condition which indicated that we should probably both tumble down about the same time."17 Lucretia must have read his account of visiting the Slashes with a sense of wistfulness as well, hearing about a time before he had known her and detecting an uncharacteristic sadness in his words. In the wisdom of the times, a man's sixty-third year was the pivotal age that ordained great changes in health, the beginning of physical devolution. Clay soon noted that his birthday would mark his grand climacteric, and he said plainly to Lucretia, "I should be glad to be spared a few years longer until I see the Country through its difficulties, and get over my own." Lucretia must have read his account of visiting the Slashes with a sense of wistfulness as well, hearing about a time before he had known her and detecting an uncharacteristic sadness in his words. In the wisdom of the times, a man's sixty-third year was the pivotal age that ordained great changes in health, the beginning of physical devolution. Clay soon noted that his birthday would mark his grand climacteric, and he said plainly to Lucretia, "I should be glad to be spared a few years longer until I see the Country through its difficulties, and get over my own."18 Observers judged the trip a success in what it meant not only for Whig unity and Harrison's candidacy, but for Clay's reputation. "There is usually much hollowness in such things," remarked James Barbour, but "the pageant of Mr. Clay's reception" pointed to the fact that "justice awaits the real patriot." The sentiment and his obvious popularity were not lost on Clay's friends, or even those who at present found it prudent to be his friends. Even before the Harrisburg convention, Harrison and Scott supporters had whispered assurances that either of their presidencies would be directed by Henry Clay. It was a deliberately flattering concession at the time. Later, though, for Harrison's supporters as well as Harrison himself, not to mention his running mate, it prepared the ground for a toxic suspicion that others would nurture.19 HENRY JR. ARRIVED in Washington soon after his father's return from Virginia. Clay judged him "in pretty good health, but still in very bad spirits." in Washington soon after his father's return from Virginia. Clay judged him "in pretty good health, but still in very bad spirits."20 He likely counseled Henry to follow his favored form of therapy in coping with grief, which was to travel and above all stay busy, for Henry did both in the months to come. By summer he was back in Kentucky and deeply involved in promoting Harrison's candidacy. He also announced himself the Whig candidate for lieutenant governor. Disappointed in that bid, he challenged Thomas F. Marshall for the Lexington district's congressional seat, though he ultimately withdrew in the interest of Whig unity. He likely counseled Henry to follow his favored form of therapy in coping with grief, which was to travel and above all stay busy, for Henry did both in the months to come. By summer he was back in Kentucky and deeply involved in promoting Harrison's candidacy. He also announced himself the Whig candidate for lieutenant governor. Disappointed in that bid, he challenged Thomas F. Marshall for the Lexington district's congressional seat, though he ultimately withdrew in the interest of Whig unity.21 He would never really recover from losing Julia, and there would never be the suggestion of his marrying again, an odd path for a young widower with children. Clay at first worried that the children would add to Lucretia's already heavy responsibilities, a burden (Lucretia would have bristled at the word) in addition to that imposed by the Erwin and Duralde broods, often in residence at Ashland. But Henry III, Nannie, and Tommy were largely raised by Henry Jr.'s first cousin, Nanette Price Smith, Lucretia's niece. It was plain that their father would never love anyone else, and he evidently would not marry without love. He became a living monument to Julia's memory and continued as such even after he found something he believed worth doing with his life, even if his father did not approve of it. He would never really recover from losing Julia, and there would never be the suggestion of his marrying again, an odd path for a young widower with children. Clay at first worried that the children would add to Lucretia's already heavy responsibilities, a burden (Lucretia would have bristled at the word) in addition to that imposed by the Erwin and Duralde broods, often in residence at Ashland. But Henry III, Nannie, and Tommy were largely raised by Henry Jr.'s first cousin, Nanette Price Smith, Lucretia's niece. It was plain that their father would never love anyone else, and he evidently would not marry without love. He became a living monument to Julia's memory and continued as such even after he found something he believed worth doing with his life, even if his father did not approve of it.22 On May 4, Clay participated in a grand procession of the Young Whig Men at Baltimore to ratify the Harrisburg ticket. At the Canton Race Track, he addressed a teeming crowd, and if there had been any lingering doubts about his purpose in the coming contest, he allayed them to the cheers of his audience. "This is no time to argue," he shouted. "The time for discussion is passed .... We are all Whigs-we are all Harrison men. We are united. united. We must triumph." We must triumph."23 It was a rousing performance, but it also disclosed an ominous discovery. He found that addressing large groups in the open air worked "a tremendous exertion of the lungs," and the parade and speech left him exhausted and slow to rebound. This was a new and sobering infirmity for a man who had earned his fame as well as his political fortune with a compelling baritone that could be musical in small settings and, up until now, reliably stentorian outdoors. Because he did not feel up to it, he declined to attend "an old fashioned Virginia Barbecue" even though its sponsors offered to schedule it for his convenience.

In addition, the affair at Baltimore had been raucous, celebratory, and for Clay probably the first full-blown example of the ballyhoo that defined the 1840 campaign. He seems to have found it distasteful. He turned down an invitation to attend a Fourth of July celebration planned by Whigs in Philadelphia. "I think self-respect requires," he said after Baltimore, "that I should not convert myself into an itinerant Lecturer or Stump orator to advance the cause of a successful competitor."24 Despite this resolve, Clay accepted an invitation to a public dinner for him in Hanover County in late June. The event provided him with the irresistible opportunity to return again to the Slashes as a proud native, but it also gave him a forum to declare Whig principles and outline a Whig program. That this should be done more forcefully had become a special concern for him. In late May he expressed regret that the Harrisburg convention had issued no platform, an omission that allowed Democrats to say that the Whigs had no program and to disparage Harrison as "General Mum." Although he was aware that many of his fellow party members thought it better to say nothing and avoid the possibility of words being twisted, he disagreed. He wanted someone to put out a statement explaining what a Whig administration would accomplish.

While Clay was stating the Whig case, the House of Representatives finally passed the Subtreasury bill on June 30 by a vote of 124 to 107, the result of the unyielding efforts of Calhoun's lieutenants and administration operatives. Van Buren delayed signing it into law until July 4. It was a symbolic gesture that Andrew Jackson believed would improve the Little Magician's reelection chances just as Jackson's Bank veto in 1832 had boosted his. Yet Van Buren was not Jackson, and the Subtreasury had become as divisive for Democrats as it was distasteful for Whigs. The nearly four-year fight to put it in place had damaged the party in New York and Virginia, and in retrospect quite needlessly, because Treasury secretary Levi Woodbury had been shifting money from state banks to the Treasury for three years under the terms of the Deposit-Distribution Act, in essence a de facto subtreasury. By the time Van Buren received the bill, the economy was again in shambles, finally showing the ill effects of the renewed economic slump, and many voters were ready for the change that the Whig economic program promised.25 "FOR SEVERAL MONTHS I have been afflicted with constant colds and hoarseness," Clay wrote Lucretia shortly after returning from his two-day stay in Hanover County. He described a troubling routine for July: "Two or three times I have put on and taken off my flannels. I have begun again to rub the surface of my body every morning with Spirits and Salt." Under instructions from his Washington physician, William Thomas, Clay became a steady customer of apothecaries C. H. James and R. S. Patterson. He told Lucretia, "I must find some relief, or I cannot survive." That was unlike Clay, and it was also unlike him to leave Congress early for home. Not only sick but exhausted, he departed Washington on Sunday, July 12, eight days before the first session adjourned. The rivers were navigable, allowing him to take the Wheeling route, and he was at Ashland in a little over a week. I have been afflicted with constant colds and hoarseness," Clay wrote Lucretia shortly after returning from his two-day stay in Hanover County. He described a troubling routine for July: "Two or three times I have put on and taken off my flannels. I have begun again to rub the surface of my body every morning with Spirits and Salt." Under instructions from his Washington physician, William Thomas, Clay became a steady customer of apothecaries C. H. James and R. S. Patterson. He told Lucretia, "I must find some relief, or I cannot survive." That was unlike Clay, and it was also unlike him to leave Congress early for home. Not only sick but exhausted, he departed Washington on Sunday, July 12, eight days before the first session adjourned. The rivers were navigable, allowing him to take the Wheeling route, and he was at Ashland in a little over a week.26 He was determined to get some rest and catch up with the family, whom he had not seen for more than eight months. He received four to five invitations a day to speak at rallies and meetings, but he turned them all down.27 Yet his resolve to rest wavered when he was given the chance to speak at a large Whig convention to be held at Nashville in mid-August. In part, bearding Old Hickory in his own den was more than appealing, especially since Jackson had been misbehaving, to Clay's way of thinking. Jackson had published a letter in the Nashville Yet his resolve to rest wavered when he was given the chance to speak at a large Whig convention to be held at Nashville in mid-August. In part, bearding Old Hickory in his own den was more than appealing, especially since Jackson had been misbehaving, to Clay's way of thinking. Jackson had published a letter in the Nashville Union Union endorsing Van Buren and lashing out at Harrison's record as an officer and statesman, a violation of the tradition that former presidents should not act as political partisans. endorsing Van Buren and lashing out at Harrison's record as an officer and statesman, a violation of the tradition that former presidents should not act as political partisans.

The convention soon became "one of the most immense gatherings ever convened in the South-western States." At least thirty thousand enthusiastic Whigs showed up, took over the city, and hurrahed for Harrison and Tyler as they went to dinners so massively attended that at one there was room for only one thousand of the ladies present to sit down while they ate.28 On August 17, Clay made the principal speech to the gathering. He had been worried about his voice, but it did not fail him, and the cheering, stamping throng frequently stood rapt as he defended his actions resolving the 1825 election, assailed Van Buren, and praised Harrison and Tyler. That much was expected, but some unpredicted portions of the speech particularly elated the audience. One of Clay's remarks seemed spontaneously witty. When he brought up Felix Grundy, someone called out that Grundy was in East Tennessee campaigning for Van Buren. Clay immediately retorted, "Ah! ... at his old occupation, defending criminals!" On August 17, Clay made the principal speech to the gathering. He had been worried about his voice, but it did not fail him, and the cheering, stamping throng frequently stood rapt as he defended his actions resolving the 1825 election, assailed Van Buren, and praised Harrison and Tyler. That much was expected, but some unpredicted portions of the speech particularly elated the audience. One of Clay's remarks seemed spontaneously witty. When he brought up Felix Grundy, someone called out that Grundy was in East Tennessee campaigning for Van Buren. Clay immediately retorted, "Ah! ... at his old occupation, defending criminals!"29 The witticism had actually occurred to Clay shortly after arriving in Nashville. He had asked if Grundy was in town, and when told about the state speaking tour, the retort about "defending criminals" occurred to him a full two days before the convention speech. Like any seasoned performer, Clay had it handy for a seemingly off-the-cuff reference. The witticism had actually occurred to Clay shortly after arriving in Nashville. He had asked if Grundy was in town, and when told about the state speaking tour, the retort about "defending criminals" occurred to him a full two days before the convention speech. Like any seasoned performer, Clay had it handy for a seemingly off-the-cuff reference.30 He was also ready for an apparently spontaneous jab at Van Buren in comparison to Harrison. Responding to Democrat scoffing over Old Tip's scant military achievements, Clay shouted that Harrison had fought more battles without suffering a defeat than any other American general. Democrats claimed Harrison was not a statesman? Clay countered that Harrison had held numerous posts of public trust. Then someone in the crowd shouted for Clay to tell of Van Buren's "battles." Clay flashed his wide smile, and the crowd tittered. "Ah," he said. "I will have to use my colleague's language, and tell you of Mr. Van Buren's three great battles! He says that he fought general commerce, and conquered him; that he fought general currency, and conquered him; and that with his Cuba allies, he fought the Seminoles, and got conquered!"31 The multitude roared. The multitude roared.

Clay naturally mentioned Andrew Jackson in the speech, and it was these remarks that later caused the most fireworks. Although Clay's initial reference was gracious-he told the crowd that he had "no unkind feelings" for "the industrious captain in this neighborhood"-he also criticized Jackson for reneging on a host of promises and for appointing Edward Livingston secretary of state at a time when Livingston's financial embarrassments were as obvious as they were significant. Jackson was already livid over Clay's visit, but the disparagement of his administration was more than he could stand. Just two days after Clay's speech, Jackson published a letter spitting with fury in the Nashville Union Union denouncing Clay for criticizing Livingston after Clay had accepted the State Department in a crooked bargain. "Under such circumstances," Jackson ranted, "how contemptible does this demagogue appear, when he descends from his high place in the Senate and roams over the country, retailing slanders against the living and the dead." denouncing Clay for criticizing Livingston after Clay had accepted the State Department in a crooked bargain. "Under such circumstances," Jackson ranted, "how contemptible does this demagogue appear, when he descends from his high place in the Senate and roams over the country, retailing slanders against the living and the dead."32 Clay responded the very next day with a lengthy reprise of the events he had described in his speech and concluding: "With regard to the insinuations, and gross epithets contained in Genl. Jackson's note, alike impotent, malevolent, and derogatory from the dignity of a man who has filled the highest office in the Universe, respect for the public and for myself allow me only to say that, like other similar missiles, they have fallen harmless at my feet, exciting no other sensation than that of scorn and contempt."33 This, of course, was not true, for Clay was every bit as angry as Jackson. He had traveled to Old Hickory's backyard and had roused a teeming crowd, but he had also prodded an aging lion who never slumbered and who, once resolved to hatred, never relented. Clay's peculiar aptitude for making powerful and relentless enemies did not diminish as he aged. At Nashville in the summer of 1840, he reminded the most powerful and most relentless of all his enemies why he was and always would be one. This, of course, was not true, for Clay was every bit as angry as Jackson. He had traveled to Old Hickory's backyard and had roused a teeming crowd, but he had also prodded an aging lion who never slumbered and who, once resolved to hatred, never relented. Clay's peculiar aptitude for making powerful and relentless enemies did not diminish as he aged. At Nashville in the summer of 1840, he reminded the most powerful and most relentless of all his enemies why he was and always would be one.34 WILLIAM HENRY HARRISON won the election of 1840 by less than 120,000 popular votes out of some 2.3 million (1,274,624 to 1,127,781), but he stacked up a crushing victory of 234 to 60 in the Electoral College. The election also overturned Congress to install Whig majorities in both houses. These victories resulted from hard economic times, as many across the country resolved to throw out those perceived as having caused the financial mess and refusing to do anything to correct it. Silas Wright groused that considering the kind of campaign that had been waged, the only mandate was to raze the Capitol and replace it with a log cabin, but his wry observation actually reflected deep frustration among Democrats. won the election of 1840 by less than 120,000 popular votes out of some 2.3 million (1,274,624 to 1,127,781), but he stacked up a crushing victory of 234 to 60 in the Electoral College. The election also overturned Congress to install Whig majorities in both houses. These victories resulted from hard economic times, as many across the country resolved to throw out those perceived as having caused the financial mess and refusing to do anything to correct it. Silas Wright groused that considering the kind of campaign that had been waged, the only mandate was to raze the Capitol and replace it with a log cabin, but his wry observation actually reflected deep frustration among Democrats.35 They were in fact more than a little puzzled. Democrats could grumble all they wanted that they had merely been outshouted, but Whigs throughout the country had made plain their plans, and the people gave evidence with their votes of their intention to embrace those plans. Clay clearly outlined Whig intentions in widely reported speeches at Taylorsville, Nashville, and Shelbyville, and others did the same in pamphlets and newspaper editorials. Understanding that the American people understood what the election was supposed to accomplish is key to comprehending what happened in its wake.

The man the Whigs had chosen to run instead of Henry Clay was a pleasant person who basked in good company and was rewarded for his even temper with affection from his family and loyalty from his friends. Yet Harrison's imposing bearing and unruffled demeanor could not disguise the fact that up until his winning the presidency, his career had been undistinguished. Worse, he had occasionally displayed an unseemly ambition, seeking and sometimes seeming to grovel for public appointments and comfortable sinecures. His talents were modest, and by the time he became president, his health was fragile.36 Discerning Whigs more than suspected his limitations. "Harrison was not the man I most desired to see fill the Presidential chair, but Clay or Webster," wrote one. "My motto is in my president and in my preacher an aristocracy of mind with commanding intellectual acquirements." Discerning Whigs more than suspected his limitations. "Harrison was not the man I most desired to see fill the Presidential chair, but Clay or Webster," wrote one. "My motto is in my president and in my preacher an aristocracy of mind with commanding intellectual acquirements."37 Others were less charitable. Andrew Jackson predictably railed that Harrison had played "the part of the Ohio Black Smith [ Others were less charitable. Andrew Jackson predictably railed that Harrison had played "the part of the Ohio Black Smith [sic]" and found his behavior as president-elect so "disgraceful" as to confirm that Harrison had no "common sense." States' rights men such as Beverley Tucker took comfort that Harrison's shortcomings would weaken the presidency. "The throne is too high," Tucker said shortly after the Harrisburg nomination, "and it may be well to place a man upon it who will degrade it by his embicility [sic]."38 Clay disagreed to the extent that he knew Harrison was not contemptibly stupid. He thoughtfully evaluated the president-elect, judging his strengths as "honesty, patriotism, a good education, some experience in public affairs, and a lively sensibility to the good opinion of the virtuous and intelligent." Yet Harrison, thought Clay, was also prone to "vanity & egotism. And the problem to be solved is whether the former can afford protection against the sinister influences to which the latter expose him."39 Even before the election, Clay had troubling signs that Harrison's pride might complicate matters. "I should be much gratified to see you on your way home," Harrison had written to Clay in June, "but the meeting must appear to be accidental. Can you arrange such a one?" Even before the election, Clay had troubling signs that Harrison's pride might complicate matters. "I should be much gratified to see you on your way home," Harrison had written to Clay in June, "but the meeting must appear to be accidental. Can you arrange such a one?"40 They had not met then, nor did they meet during the campaign season, accidentally or otherwise. Then after his victory, Harrison traveled to Kentucky to meet with Charles A. Wickliffe, ostensibly on business about his purchasing Harrison's Kentucky land claims. At first, Harrison said he wanted to meet with Clay as well, but he abruptly changed his mind because it "might give rise to speculation & even jealousies which it might be well to avoid." Harrison suggested that instead he could meet with an intermediary who could relay Clay's views and suggestions about the impending administration.41 Harrison's trip was clearly more related to politics than land parcels, and for that reason alone he should not have made it. Twenty years later, when Abraham Lincoln was elected president, Thurlow Weed suggested that Lincoln travel to New York to visit William Seward, who had been his chief rival for the nomination. Weed cited Harrison's November 1840 visit to Kentucky as precedent, but Lincoln ignored the suggestion, "wisely" in the judgment of one historian.42 In Harrison's case, the visit was a bad miscue for several reasons. It revealed his sensitivity over continuing reports that Clay would be the "Mayor of the Palace" in the new administration, directing all activities from patronage appointments to legislative initiatives. In reacting this way, Harrison was playing into the hands of mischief-making opponents, for these predictions either appeared in Democrat newspapers, or they were the work of resentful Whigs jockeying for position by fouling the well for Clay.43 Trying to prove he was his own man and would be the master of his administration, Harrison unnecessarily placed himself amid the divisive quarrels of Kentucky's Whigs. Sixty-two-year-old Charles Wickliffe was a Whig, but he had always chafed under the ascendancy of Henry Clay, who was his superior in debate. A Wickliffe kinsman candidly likened Charles's weak oratory to trying to explode "a powder magazine ... by throwing snow-balls at it."44 Well-spoken or not, Wickliffe disagreed with Clay about almost everything. As a member of the Kentucky congressional delegation in 1825, he had voted for Andrew Jackson, and in the intervening years he had staunchly opposed Clay on issues ranging from gradual emancipation to revenue distribution. With his older brother Robert, who happened to be a Jacksonian Democrat, Wickliffe was poised to mount a serious challenge to Clay's dominance of Kentucky politics. Their mother had been a Hardin, tying them to influential Ben Hardin, another Bluegrass foe of Clay's, who had given Robert the nickname "Duke," now "the Old Duke" as he neared sixty-six, because he was the wealthiest and most imperious man in Kentucky. The Wickliffes had a long reach in matters political, social, and even matrimonial: Robert Wickliffe's youngest daughter, Margaret, was to marry William Preston, a Whig and a friend of Clay's, just days after Harrison's visit. Well-spoken or not, Wickliffe disagreed with Clay about almost everything. As a member of the Kentucky congressional delegation in 1825, he had voted for Andrew Jackson, and in the intervening years he had staunchly opposed Clay on issues ranging from gradual emancipation to revenue distribution. With his older brother Robert, who happened to be a Jacksonian Democrat, Wickliffe was poised to mount a serious challenge to Clay's dominance of Kentucky politics. Their mother had been a Hardin, tying them to influential Ben Hardin, another Bluegrass foe of Clay's, who had given Robert the nickname "Duke," now "the Old Duke" as he neared sixty-six, because he was the wealthiest and most imperious man in Kentucky. The Wickliffes had a long reach in matters political, social, and even matrimonial: Robert Wickliffe's youngest daughter, Margaret, was to marry William Preston, a Whig and a friend of Clay's, just days after Harrison's visit.45 Harrison's plan to meet with a member of this family greatly troubled Clay, for it likely meant a Wickliffe association with the new administration that would damage his standing not only in Kentucky but in Washington as well. Moreover, throwing this meeting in Clay's face just days after the election was both impolitic and churlish on Harrison's part because Clay was the acknowledged leader of the party in Congress and had worked hard for Old Tip's victory. In short, it was a costly and ill-conceived way for Harrison to show his independence.

Clay did not stand on ceremony when Harrison arrived in Frankfort on November 21. Instead, he rushed there to head off the Wickliffes. They intended to have Harrison install Robert Wickliffe, Jr., as his private secretary, giving the family the president's ear, and Charles A. Wickliffe as postmaster general, giving the clan access to vast patronage power. Clay thus swallowed his pride because his political self-preservation required it. He graciously invited Harrison to Ashland. Old Tip accepted, though reluctantly, making it seem he had been dragooned into Lexington.

Clay had him alone, though, and was free with advice. In several conversations, including one on November 25 during Ashland's midafternoon dinner, Clay discussed cabinet appointments. Harrison offered Clay the State Department, but he turned it down. Peter Porter advised him not only to avoid serving in the cabinet but also to seek a diplomatic post, possibly as minister to England, to be "detached from the political squabbles of the next four years," but Clay had no intention of detaching himself from the exciting prospects that a Whig president with Whig congressional majorities promised. Taking Harrison at his word about believing in legislative supremacy, Clay looked forward to returning to Congress for the first time in years.46 Sensibly weighing the reality that Webster could not be overlooked by a Whig president, he said that Webster's appointment to a suitable post would not vex him. He suggested the State Department. In fact, anything but Treasury, because he claimed to believe Webster had no talent for finance. Although Clay was precisely correct about his impecunious rival, his primary concern was the large patronage pool Webster would have at Treasury. He also made an effort to solidify his influence in the cabinet by putting forward the names of friends, especially Crittenden for attorney general.47 Clay viewed these conversations as successful in that they preserved his influence and promoted a positive relationship with the executive branch. For his part, Harrison in the aftermath appeared warmly inclined to Clay. Just before his inauguration, Harrison spoke publicly of Clay as "my firm personal and political friend" and went on to say, "I consider his judgment superior to that of any man living, for ... I have never differed with him on any important subject that I did not afterwards become convinced that he was right and I was wrong. he was right and I was wrong."48 By the 1840s, Ashland had become a prosperous farm as well as a showplace. It was also Clay's refuge from the world. In the engraving above, he is seated in the foreground. The engraving below depicts the pleasant landscape that greeted the many visitors who traveled to the estate as if to a shrine. (Courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky; Library of Congress) Clay was an expert horseman who began riding as a youth in the Slashes. Through the years, he owned outright, or as a member of syndicates, champion racehorses. (Courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky) Foremost among the many artifacts that Clay prized at Ashland was a cracked goblet that George Washington used during the American Revolution. It is still displayed at the estate. (Courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky) The artist George P. A. Healy (Library of Congress) Clay circa 1842. The renowned artist George P. A. Healy was commissioned by Louis-Philippe of France to paint portraits of American statesmen from life. Healy visited Ashland in 1845 and produced several studies as well as the a full portrait to the right. The engraving above suggests that some of Clay's family were partly correct that Healy had failed to capture Clay accurately. Yet among the many likenesses of her husband, Lucretia thought Healy's was the best. (Library of Congress) Copy of Healy's Henry Clay by Maurie W. Clark (Courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky) Lucretia Hart Clay was an intensely private woman married to an intensely public man, but she was far from a timid recluse. There are not many portraits of her, and this one by Oliver Frazier likely took some license to soften her features. (Courtesy of Dr. Bill Kenner) Raised within sight of Ashland, Mary Mentelle was a childhood playmate of the Clay children. Her marriage to Thomas Hart Clay brought her formally into a family that already adored her. (Courtesy of Dr. Bill Kenner) Henry and Lucretia's second son, Thomas Hart Clay, caused his parents many anxious moments. Expelled from West Point after one term and prone to drunken binges, Thomas finally found his way through the love of a good woman, neighbor Mary Mentelle. (Courtesy of Dr. Bill Kenner) Henry and Lucretia's third son was his father's namesake, Henry Clay, Jr., and became the young man for whom Clay had the highest hopes. (Courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky) The death of Henry Clay, Jr., in combat during the Mexican War broke his parents' hearts and contributed to Henry Clay's religious conversion. (Library of Congress) Julia Prather's marriage to Henry Clay, Jr., brought great joy into the life of an overly serious young man. Her tragic death in 1840 devastated the family and sank young Henry into perpetual mourning from which he never recovered. (Courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky) Henry and Lucretia's tenth child, James Brown Clay, tried several careers before settling on the law and practicing briefly with his father. Clay obtained a diplomatic appointment for James in 1849, and he served one term in Congress in the late 1850s. He sided with the Confederacy during the Civil War. (Courtesy of Ned Boyajian) James B. Clay's marriage to Susan Jacob brought another beloved daughter-in-law into the Clay family. Susan greatly admired her father-in-law and took it upon herself to preserve many of his papers after his death. (Courtesy of Ned Boyajian) John Morrison Clay was the youngest of Clay's eleven children. He struggled with alcohol in his youth and later displayed signs of the mental disorder that afflicted his oldest brother, Theodore Wythe Clay. His life was transformed by the discovery of his talent for breeding champion racehorses. (Courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky) The Illustrious Guest by James Henry Beard by James Henry Beard Despite his lengthy retirement from office and his failed presidential bids, Clay remained one of the country's most popular and recognizable people, as this previously unpublished painting shows. In 1847, New York artist James Henry Beard captured the essence of that celebrity in The Illustrious Guest The Illustrious Guest, in which Clay nonchalantly reads a newspaper while locals gather to stare at their famous visitor. Beard had a sense of humor to match that of his subject, as the detail of the tavern's guest register shows. The artist has placed his name on it along with Clay's signature. (Private collection) The Capitol as it appeared during the Mexican War and the debates over what would become the Compromise of 1850. (Library of Congress) Henry and Lucretia Clay posed stiffly to commemorate their fiftieth wedding anniversary, both clearly showing the emotional scars of the many family tragedies that plagued their five decades together. Clay was also struggling with a serious cough that he rightly suspected was tuberculosis. (Courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky) James K. Polk's pledge not to run for a second term in 1848 offered Clay and the Whigs an excellent chance to capture the White House. Clay's hopes were dashed when General Zachary Taylor won the Whig nomination. (Library of Congress) Horace Greeley, the eccentric editor of the New York Tribune, was Clay's unofficial campaign manager in the final bid for the presidency. By the time of the Whig National Convention, Greeley knew that Clay's chances were less than slim. (Library of Congress) Kentuckian John Jordan Crittenden had been Clay's most cherished friend for years, but Clay's discovery that Crittenden was working behind the scenes for Taylor in 1848 estranged them. (Library of Congress) This cartoon took a blunt view of Clay's treatment at the hands of his supposed friends in 1848, comparing their furtive desertion of him for Taylor to Caesar's assassins. (Library of Congress) Although increasingly ill by the time he sat for this photograph, Henry Clay still displayed some of the spark, especially in his eyes, that made him a charismatic leader for a half century. (Library of Congress) A fellow Whig and often a fierce rival, Daniel Webster cooperated with Clay when it mattered most during the compromise debates in 1850. (Library of Congress) By the time this photograph was taken of John C. Calhoun, he and Clay no longer spoke socially. Calhoun was now near death and had become a radical sectionalist who reflexively opposed any measure put forth by Clay. Nevertheless, the two met one last time when Clay visited Calhoun as he lay dying. (Library of Congress) New York senator William Seward was a protege of Thurlow Weed and no friend of Clay's. Seward opposed Clay's compromise plan in 1850 and provocatively told the Senate that there was a "higher law" than the Constitution. (Library of Congress) Pennsylvanian James Buchanan was a Senate colleague for many years and frequently bantered with Clay during proceedings. He was among those who marveled over Clay's return to the Senate in 1849. (Library of Congress) A self-made man much like Henry Clay, Millard Fillmore became president when Zachary Taylor suddenly died. Clay admired Fillmore's honesty and candor, rare traits in career politicians, and was grateful for the new president's support in the fight for the Compromise of 1850. (Library of Congress) Illinois senator Stephen A. Douglas ultimately became the principal architect behind the Compromise of 1850, but he expressed open admiration for Clay's efforts and praised his patriotism. (Library of Congress) In one of the most famous depictions of Henry Clay, he addresses the Senate during the debates on his compromise proposals in 1850. (Library of Congress) Although a Whig ally, Maryland senator James A. Pearce accidentally destroyed Clay's complex plans just prior to the Senate vote on the compromise package at the end of July 1850. (Library of Congress) In this 1860 reproduction of an 1852 lithograph depicting the important statesmen who had saved the Union in 1850, the engraver made a significant change. Clay remains prominent at just left of center, holding his customary cane. Daniel Webster stands to the right with his hand resting on the scroll. Yet John C. Calhoun, the third member of the Great Triumvirate, has been replaced by Abraham Lincoln in the middle, despite the fact that Lincoln was out of office from 1848 until his election to the presidency in 1860. (Library of Congress) Lucretia Clay's cousin, Thomas Hart Benton, began his political career as a staunch ally of Henry Clay but ultimately became a Jacksonian, making him Clay's bitter enemy. In the end, though, Benton conceded that the "Corrupt Bargain" charge had been trumped up for political purposes. (Library of Congress) Artist Robert Weir's painting captures Clay's final communion as administered by Senate chaplain Charles M. Butler and witnessed by Clay's servant James Marshall. Thomas Hart Clay arrived shortly afterward to take his father home from Washington, and though Clay briefly rallied, he never left his rooms again. (Courtesy of the Kentucky Historical Society Collections) Clay died on June 29, 1852, with Tennessee senator James C. Jones and Thomas Hart Clay at his bedside. (Library of Congress) Thomas Hart Clay dispatched this telegram to his brother James shortly after their father died in Washington. (Library of Congress) Henry Clay lay in state in his unusual human-shaped coffin at numerous stops on the funeral journey back to Lexington. The plate covering his face could be removed for viewing, but the practice was discontinued after the early part of the trip. (Courtesy of Ashland, The Henry Clay Estate, Lexington, Kentucky) Clay's funeral in Lexington featured a spectacular and lengthy procession from Ashland to the Lexington Cemetery. Thousands crowded into the town to view the ornate hearse drawn by impressive horses and tended by liveried groomsmen. (Courtesy of the University of Kentucky) New York was one of the many cities that held elaborate funeral ceremonies for Clay weeks after he had been laid to rest in Lexington. The urn in the funeral carriage symbolized Clay's presence in the New York ceremony where thousands lined the route to pay their respects. (Courtesy of the New York State Library) Weighing those encouraging words, Clay took comfort that he had blocked the Wickliffes' drive to supplant him. Robert Wickliffe, Jr., did not become Harrison's private secretary (though he did trail him to Washington as part of the new president's entourage), and Charles A. Wickliffe did not become postmaster general.

Two things did worry Clay, though. One was that Harrison might remain "apprehensive that the new Administration may not be regarded as his his but mine." Clay was concerned that "artful men for sinister purposes will endeavor to foster this jealousy," and he was determined to dispel any reason for it. but mine." Clay was concerned that "artful men for sinister purposes will endeavor to foster this jealousy," and he was determined to dispel any reason for it.49 The second matter that concerned him was Harrison's health. Despite Old Tip's repeated claims of vigor, Clay was not so sure. Others also noticed that something was not quite right with the old fellow. After a public reception during the Kentucky trip, one person in attendance thought that Harrison appeared "pretty well worn out." The second matter that concerned him was Harrison's health. Despite Old Tip's repeated claims of vigor, Clay was not so sure. Others also noticed that something was not quite right with the old fellow. After a public reception during the Kentucky trip, one person in attendance thought that Harrison appeared "pretty well worn out."50 Clay was even more plainspoken. "I think the strength of his mind is unabated," he said, "but his body is a good deal shattered." He repeated the observation using the same word, "shattered," to John Quincy Adams a couple of weeks later in Washington, a sign that the state of Harrison's health was much on his mind. Clay was even more plainspoken. "I think the strength of his mind is unabated," he said, "but his body is a good deal shattered." He repeated the observation using the same word, "shattered," to John Quincy Adams a couple of weeks later in Washington, a sign that the state of Harrison's health was much on his mind.51 AS CLAY PREPARED to leave for Congress, James abandoned his Missouri farming experiment and returned to Ashland. A year earlier, he had made a prolonged visit to Natchez, where Clay suspected that he had "gotten involved in some love affair," but no girl was ever mentioned, and James returned to Kentucky alone. Clay was relieved to have him back in any case, since he trusted James to handle business at Ashland while Thomas was occupied with starting up his hemp and bagging business. Thomas had high hopes for success, although he was finding it difficult to secure capital during hard times, and Clay began staking him with hefty advances, generosity that would prove to be a serious mistake. to leave for Congress, James abandoned his Missouri farming experiment and returned to Ashland. A year earlier, he had made a prolonged visit to Natchez, where Clay suspected that he had "gotten involved in some love affair," but no girl was ever mentioned, and James returned to Kentucky alone. Clay was relieved to have him back in any case, since he trusted James to handle business at Ashland while Thomas was occupied with starting up his hemp and bagging business. Thomas had high hopes for success, although he was finding it difficult to secure capital during hard times, and Clay began staking him with hefty advances, generosity that would prove to be a serious mistake.52 Clay and his slave Charles Dupuy left Ashland on November 26 for Washington. Reaching the capital on December 6, he settled into his rooms at Mrs. Arguelles's and began catching up on his correspondence, a sign that the first of his three campaigns having succeeded-the one to elect Harrison-it was time to commence the other two, promoting his candidacy for the presidency in 1844 and enacting the Whig program. He called on Van Buren at the White House and received John Quincy Adams for a friendly chat. These were not merely cordial rituals but had the purpose of surveying the ground and reading political prospects. Disappointed Democrats would be up to no good, he concluded, and he mentioned the need for a special session of Congress.53 Van Buren's humiliating defeat led John C. Calhoun to believe that he could be the Democrat nominee in 1844. He itched to run against Henry Clay, who he suspected had obtained Harrison's blessing as his successor, and like the Kentuckian, he began laying the foundation for his bid early. On December 15, 1840, he walked into the Senate chamber and heard Clay arguing for the immediate repeal of the Subtreasury, just a half year into its existence. Calhoun countered with what amounted to a stump speech not only defending the Subtreasury but exalting Jeffersonian principles of limited government. Clay knew what this was about. Calhoun was giving notice that he would lead the opposition against the Whig majority with every weapon at his disposal.54 Clay soon left Washington for New York, the professed purpose of the trip being to visit three of his grandsons (James Erwin, Jr., Henry Clay Erwin, and Henry Clay Duralde) at their private school on Long Island. When Clay and Charles Dupuy checked in to the Astor House in Manhattan, most people realized that politics would also play an important part in this visit. Editor James Gordon Bennett quipped that the boys on Long Island were "not the only grandchildren that brought Mr. Clay to New York." Bennett listed every prominent Whig in the city as eagerly seeking Clay's favor, and indeed many did call on Clay, hoping that he could use his influence to gain them a place in the new administration.55 Clay and Charles left New York on Tuesday, three days before Christmas. They also left the boys and their classmates in the care of Peter Porter, who treated them over Christmas to the circus and a tour of the Bowery.56 As for Clay, he boarded the Jersey City ferry to catch the train for Philadelphia and found himself in the company of Caroline Webster and Congressman Edward Curtis's wife. They were on their way to Washington to join their husbands. He "greeted them with great cordiality, and expressed his delight in having their company to the capitol [ As for Clay, he boarded the Jersey City ferry to catch the train for Philadelphia and found himself in the company of Caroline Webster and Congressman Edward Curtis's wife. They were on their way to Washington to join their husbands. He "greeted them with great cordiality, and expressed his delight in having their company to the capitol [sic]."57 That was likely true, if incredible, or at least it was a deceptive gesture of instinctual gallantry: Clay knew that Webster was going to prove a troublesome rival in his bid for the presidency, and Clay would soon have cause to loathe Edward Curtis. But in the brisk breezes that buffeted the Jersey ferry that December day, Clay was chivalrous and charming. At least by all appearances, the trio made for delightful company, but it was perhaps an omen that by the time he had reached Wilmington, he had become so ill with his nagging cold that he was in his bed for almost two days and otherwise confined to a room until he felt well enough again to travel, which was not until December 30. That was likely true, if incredible, or at least it was a deceptive gesture of instinctual gallantry: Clay knew that Webster was going to prove a troublesome rival in his bid for the presidency, and Clay would soon have cause to loathe Edward Curtis. But in the brisk breezes that buffeted the Jersey ferry that December day, Clay was chivalrous and charming. At least by all appearances, the trio made for delightful company, but it was perhaps an omen that by the time he had reached Wilmington, he had become so ill with his nagging cold that he was in his bed for almost two days and otherwise confined to a room until he felt well enough again to travel, which was not until December 30.58 He arrived in Washington in time to attend Martin Van Buren's final New Year's Day reception, an event he would not have missed for the world. The weather was stormy and miserable, sleet mixing with snow to pelt people as they arrived, and attendance was thin as a result. John Quincy Adams heard Clay tell Van Buren "that nothing but devotion to him him could have induced him to come out from his lodgings on a day such as this." Adams interpreted the remark as an example of the Kentuckian's sarcasm. "Clay," he sniffed, "crows too much over a fallen foe." could have induced him to come out from his lodgings on a day such as this." Adams interpreted the remark as an example of the Kentuckian's sarcasm. "Clay," he sniffed, "crows too much over a fallen foe."59 Yet there was plenty of evidence to indicate that Clay was sincere. His relations with Van Buren had always been civil and often quite affable. Even the Democrat press had noticed how Clay "was inspired with the greatest respect for the Yet there was plenty of evidence to indicate that Clay was sincere. His relations with Van Buren had always been civil and often quite affable. Even the Democrat press had noticed how Clay "was inspired with the greatest respect for the man, man, though he detested the though he detested the magistrate. magistrate."60 Clay likely felt sorry for the political antagonist he also regarded as a personal friend, a man sniggered at as Sweet Sandy Whiskers and unfairly maligned for turning the White House into a sumptuous palace. Now at Van Buren's final grand levee, the falseness of the latter charge was laid bare. The place was in shambles, the East Room's wallpaper peeling, its large carpet threadbare, and the satin damask nearly worn off the seats of the chairs. Clay likely felt sorry for the political antagonist he also regarded as a personal friend, a man sniggered at as Sweet Sandy Whiskers and unfairly maligned for turning the White House into a sumptuous palace. Now at Van Buren's final grand levee, the falseness of the latter charge was laid bare. The place was in shambles, the East Room's wallpaper peeling, its large carpet threadbare, and the satin damask nearly worn off the seats of the chairs.61 Henry Clay stood at the center of the East Room amid a glittering array of bejeweled women impatient to catch his eye and laughing men eager to shake his hand, a cluster of people larger than that around Van Buren. Clay did not feel well, and rather than crowing, he was likely sincere in what he said to the little man who at the end had been forced to rely on John C. Calhoun, of all people, for political sustenance. This last party, ruined by the weather, lightly attended by Washington society, and lacking even meager refreshments, was no occasion for gloating. It all just seemed rather sad. Henry Clay stood at the center of the East Room amid a glittering array of bejeweled women impatient to catch his eye and laughing men eager to shake his hand, a cluster of people larger than that around Van Buren. Clay did not feel well, and rather than crowing, he was likely sincere in what he said to the little man who at the end had been forced to rely on John C. Calhoun, of all people, for political sustenance. This last party, ruined by the weather, lightly attended by Washington society, and lacking even meager refreshments, was no occasion for gloating. It all just seemed rather sad.62 IN THE JANUARY term of the Supreme Court, Clay joined Charles L. Jones and Daniel Webster to represent Robert Slaughter in the case of term of the Supreme Court, Clay joined Charles L. Jones and Daniel Webster to represent Robert Slaughter in the case of Groves v. Slaughter, Groves v. Slaughter, a complicated dispute involving slavery, the state of Mississippi, and the validity of promissory notes. In fact, a complicated dispute involving slavery, the state of Mississippi, and the validity of promissory notes. In fact, Groves v. Slaughter Groves v. Slaughter was about two legal disputes. One concerned Robert Slaughter, a slave trader who was demanding payment for slaves he had sold into Mississippi in 1836. Groves, who had endorsed a promissory note for the purchaser, claimed that the transaction violated the part of the Mississippi constitution prohibiting the introduction of slaves into the state "as merchandize" after May 1833, a move designed to prevent the drain of capital from the state. Groves insisted that because the transaction was illegal, he was under no obligation to pay Slaughter, who then sued him in the federal Circuit Court of the Eastern District of Louisiana. When the circuit court upheld Slaughter's claim, Groves petitioned the Supreme Court. was about two legal disputes. One concerned Robert Slaughter, a slave trader who was demanding payment for slaves he had sold into Mississippi in 1836. Groves, who had endorsed a promissory note for the purchaser, claimed that the transaction violated the part of the Mississippi constitution prohibiting the introduction of slaves into the state "as merchandize" after May 1833, a move designed to prevent the drain of capital from the state. Groves insisted that because the transaction was illegal, he was under no obligation to pay Slaughter, who then sued him in the federal Circuit Court of the Eastern District of Louisiana. When the circuit court upheld Slaughter's claim, Groves petitioned the Supreme Court.63 Clay, Webster, and Jones were in part interested in recovering the money owed to Slaughter, despite its unsavory nature, because a promissory note was still a legal contract that could not be disregarded without imperiling all commercial transactions. Yet a more significant issue than debt collection arose from the possibility that Mississippi had violated the U.S. Constitution by presuming to regulate interstate commerce, a power reserved to Congress. Because the interstate commerce in question had been in slaves, the case became a sensitive test of the balance between federal and state power and had the potential to affect the institution of slavery itself. As John Quincy Adams succinctly discerned, "The question is whether a State of the Union can constitutionally prohibit the importation within her borders of slaves as merchandise."64 The implications were therefore staggering. In determining the validity of Slaughter's promissory note, the Court could have been forced in 1841 to delve into a titanic issue: the legal status of slaves as property and as people. Doing so would have had the same sort of impact on the slavery controversy that the Dred Scott decision did sixteen years later. In short, such a decision could have accelerated an already angry debate over slavery, possibly to a violent conclusion. The implications were therefore staggering. In determining the validity of Slaughter's promissory note, the Court could have been forced in 1841 to delve into a titanic issue: the legal status of slaves as property and as people. Doing so would have had the same sort of impact on the slavery controversy that the Dred Scott decision did sixteen years later. In short, such a decision could have accelerated an already angry debate over slavery, possibly to a violent conclusion.

That was why a case that seemingly involved only the sordid business of slave trading and the mundane matter of an unpaid bill featured celebrated and high-powered legal talent on both sides. In addition to Clay and Webster, Slaughter's team included Walter Jones, a legal genius renowned for his encyclopedic knowledge and something of an eccentric in dress and speech. Despite a high, thin voice so hushed as to give the impression that he was nodding off during his arguments, he had "piercing" eyes and an exceptional talent for lodging brief, pointed presentations.65 Representing the State of Mississippi were Henry D. Gilpin, the U.S. attorney general (and second husband of Clay's old friend Eliza Johnston), and Mississippi senator Robert J. Walker. Representing the State of Mississippi were Henry D. Gilpin, the U.S. attorney general (and second husband of Clay's old friend Eliza Johnston), and Mississippi senator Robert J. Walker.

Oral arguments began on February 12, 1841, a Friday, and continued until the following Friday, drawing large numbers of "distinguished counselors ... and scores of men eminent in other professions" to the Court's chamber on the ground floor of the Capitol's north wing, both to see the celebrity lawyers at work and because of the case's possible significance. The presence of Clay and Webster accounted for "the ladies [who] occupied all the vacant seats of the Court-room and crowded everyone but the Judges and counsel out of the bar."66 As was his custom in the Senate, Clay did not speak from a prepared text but relied on brief sentences to serve as cues. He spoke for about three hours, and the spectators remained attentive throughout his lengthy remarks. He pointed out the economic repercussions that would result from allowing Groves to ignore the debt, for the precedent would not only affect Slaughter but would also involve "more than $3,000,000, due by citizens of the state of Mississippi, to citizens of Virginia, Maryland, Kentucky and other slave states." He assessed the legal implications of canceling the contracts that promissory notes represented and provided a detailed analysis of the Mississippi constitution's intent and the Mississippi legislature's actions to show that not until 1837, the year following Slaughter's transaction, did the legislature pass a law enforcing the prohibition.

The easiest way to win the case was to argue that Mississippi had overreached its authority and therefore could not have made the Slaughter transaction unlawful. Yet Clay was troubled by the possibility of invoking the interstate commerce clause to curb a state's right to control its own affairs, especially regarding slavery. Doing that could trigger a dire response throughout the South. In his notes, he insisted that "Congress has neither the power to disturb the existing institution [of slavery] or to establish it within a State" and "Congress cannot therefore do what the Abolitionists seek." If congressional control over interstate commerce could be used as Adams had mused-that is, to regulate or otherwise impinge upon the institution of slavery-it would become a powerful weapon in the abolitionist arsenal and might spur southerners to a calamitous reaction. Indeed, Robert Walker "threatened tremendous consequences" if the states were brought to heel in this way.67 As it turned out, the justices were also apprehensive about tackling the sobering issues of slavery and states' rights, and when they handed down their decision on March 10, a majority managed to dodge those questions by essentially agreeing with Clay. Because there had been no legislative statute enforcing Mississippi's constitutional prohibition on importing slaves, the Court ruled that the prohibition had not been in effect at the time of Slaughter's transaction. Upholding the circuit court's decision made it "unnecessary to inquire whether this article in the constitution of Mississippi is repugnant to the constitution of the United States."68 Chief Justice Roger Taney even went so far as to say that the issue of exclusive federal control over such a matter was "little more than an abstract question which the court may never be called on to decide." Chief Justice Roger Taney even went so far as to say that the issue of exclusive federal control over such a matter was "little more than an abstract question which the court may never be called on to decide."69 That, of course, turned out to be a stunningly mistaken prophecy, as Clay feared. Taney could not have imagined that eventually the political system would bring something very much like this question to the Court and that he himself would see it as more than an abstraction. Sixteen years later, Taney would feel compelled to decide the question, come hell or high water. In due course, just as Clay had feared, both hell and high water came with a vengeance.

HARRISON OFFERED WEBSTER a place in the cabinet, as Clay recommended, but he gave him the choice of Treasury or State, against Clay's advice. Clay did not know about this, because Webster chose State, but it indicated that Harrison was inclined to give only lip service to his counsel, and in other appointments he soon gave Clay reason to be concerned. Though his friends were prominent in the new administration, with Crittenden appointed attorney general and John Bell secretary of war, it was disconcerting to learn that Tom Ewing was moved from postmaster general to Treasury to make a place for Frank Granger. That was Webster's doing, and the change was the first sign that the New Englander might be able to exert more influence from within the administration than Clay could from outside it. a place in the cabinet, as Clay recommended, but he gave him the choice of Treasury or State, against Clay's advice. Clay did not know about this, because Webster chose State, but it indicated that Harrison was inclined to give only lip service to his counsel, and in other appointments he soon gave Clay reason to be concerned. Though his friends were prominent in the new administration, with Crittenden appointed attorney general and John Bell secretary of war, it was disconcerting to learn that Tom Ewing was moved from postmaster general to Treasury to make a place for Frank Granger. That was Webster's doing, and the change was the first sign that the New Englander might be able to exert more influence from within the administration than Clay could from outside it.

The appointment that Clay most wanted was that of his friend John Clayton. Clay had wanted Clayton at Treasury, but with that taken, he was prepared to settle for secretary of the navy. When Harrison balked, Clay pressed the matter, unwisely ignoring his own advice about not exciting Harrison's sensitivity over who was really in charge. In late February, Harrison traveled to Richmond for a rest before the inauguration and visited attorney James Lyons, a staunch supporter who was the president of Richmond's Tippecanoe Club. According to Lyons, Harrison was quite agitated about Clay's behavior, which he described as violent and overbearing to the point where Harrison had barked: "Mr. Clay, you forget that I am the President!"70 Possibly Harrison's sharp remark was caused by the dispute over Clayton, but it is also possible that Harrison never said it. Lyons, like John Tyler, was a former Jacksonian Democrat who had become a Whig when repelled by Andrew Jackson's overbearing manner. Yet Lyons had never really deserted fundamental Democrat principles, and his most notable contribution to the 1840 campaign was a states' rights manifesto called the Whig Address, which incongruously repudiated Whig principles by denouncing the protective tariff and declaring a national bank unconstitutional. Moreover, Lyons had asserted that Harrison condemned the Bank too.71 Clearly Lyons was no friend of Clay's. In addition to being the only source describing Harrison and Clay as at loggerheads before Old Tip's inauguration, Lyons did not make the claim until almost forty years later in a letter to the New York Clearly Lyons was no friend of Clay's. In addition to being the only source describing Harrison and Clay as at loggerheads before Old Tip's inauguration, Lyons did not make the claim until almost forty years later in a letter to the New York World, World, a struggling New York daily (Joseph Pulitzer would purchase it in 1883). As we shall see, there are other reasons to suspect both Lyons and the statements in his 1880 letter. a struggling New York daily (Joseph Pulitzer would purchase it in 1883). As we shall see, there are other reasons to suspect both Lyons and the statements in his 1880 letter.