name at the mention of which even then every heart in the nation warmed—the noble and disinterested statesman of Kentucky—all stood before him. The former, however, was the man, because the nearest impediment; the rest were assailable in turn. Clinton must be supplanted. But how? His antagonist had no resources in the field of exalted statesmanship. His name was connected with no services in the war which had just been fought. He had no plans of internal improvement for the benefit of generations yet unborn. He had no reputation in the world of letters and philosophy like his accomplished rival. What, then, were his resources? They were of a kind corresponding to the dimensions of the man; and the humiliating recollection that they were successful is almost lost, when we consider the tremendous consequences for evil with which that success was attained. Mr. Van Buren set himself to a task for which his abilities were exactly calculated. He found here and there some, who, amid the general harmony, were mourning in obscure places over that obliteration of party names in which their own small hopes of distinction would be forever blotted out. He began to scheme in secret with congenial spirits, among whom the then patron and political guide of the present loco-foco candidate for governor held an unenviable distinction. These men set themselves to the noble work of stirring up again the dying embers of former party strifes. In the absence of all meritorious deeds, they hoped to rise into distinction by the revival of those old titles which General Jackson had desired to be consigned to eternal oblivion. Wicked and unprincipled men were tempted with the hopes of office, and weak men were found in sufficient numbers to form the materials of the demagogue. Year after year the object was pursued with a pertinacity which is often a trait of the smallest souls. The title of Democrat was exclusively appropriated to themselves, their opponents, in contempt of the trick, silently permitting them to be successful in the petty larceny. A portion of the more unprincipled of the old Federal party attached themselves to this new phoenix of Democracy, which had so little likeness to its alleged sire, and, as might be expected, became Democrats of the most rampant sort. In short, the elements of party conflict were again revived with more than their ancient rancor. Mr. Clinton and his friends were styled Federalists, for what reason no one could tell; but Federalists they were, although a great number of the most strenuous members of the old Republican party were among his most ardent supporters. In short, while Mr. Clinton, Mr. Clay, and Mr. Adams were projecting glorious schemes of general improvement, recommending national universities, national observatories, devising plans for a sound national currency, encouraging the efforts of the then dawning Republics in South America, rendering secure the national credit, and giving us a national character, which, but for the subsequent dark days of Democratic repudiation, might have made us the envy of the world—while these true statesmen were thus employed, Mr. Van Buren, and Roger Skinner, and Silas Wright were engaged in the sublime work of rousing the Democracy, of exhuming the buried ghost of Federalism, and holding it up as a scare-crow for those of their followers who had too little intelligence to discern the miserable cheat. They were then all bank men, all tariff men, all internal improvement men, because a sound and wholesome popular sentiment on these subjects then pervaded the country, in place of that spurious vox populi which has since been the product of their own manufacture, and which is the only species of domestic manufacture to which they were ever in heart favorable. But all these matters were held in reserve as subordinate to the other great matter in which they were so zealously employed, namely, the getting up in some way the old party names, and in adroitly taking to themselves that of Democrats. But we have not space to pursue further the wretched details.
It was in this cessation, then, of partisan politics that the new contest commenced, which resulted in the election of General Jackson to the Executive chair. It was a contest whose impress is yet visible upon the features of the country, and the consequences of which have in a great measure controlled the fortunes of political parties. Out of this contest has sprung the radical Democracy of the present period, and as the character and measures of this party have taken their complexion from the character of their leaders and champions, we shall offer no apology for giving a more extended description of both. In all respects General Jackson was
