He knew he had blundered in opposing an electoral law, and he now proposed giving the Legislature another opportunity to enact one.

He had surrendered independence if not self-respect, and, in return for his fidelity, had been ruthlessly cast aside for his less faithful rival.

He lacked the oratorical gift and the art of concealing the labour of his overwrought and too elaborate sentences; but his addresses afforded ample evidence of the capacity and richness of his mind.

He had been inoculated with presidential rabies in 1812, and his letters to Henry Post showed signs of continued madness.

As for Adams, he can only succeed by the imbecility of his opponents, not by his own strength.

One can easily understand, however, that a man of the iron will and great achievement of the Tennesseean would profoundly interest DeWitt Clinton.

On the other hand, the proud, aspiring, unpliant man whose canal policy brought national renown, had won the admiration of Andrew Jackson.

But the dramatic thing about Clinton's interest just now, was his proclamation for Jackson, when everybody else in New York was for some other candidate.

He was a statesman without being a politician.

He believed in Jackson's star, and it was this prescience, as the sequel showed, that was to give him, in spite of opponents, a sixth term as governor.

He had suffered so much, and yet retained so much of the serenity of a child, that he was ever ready to share his purse and his mantle of pity with the unfortunate, brightening their lives with a tender sympathy that endeared him to all.

Men in high places, often opulent and happy in their ease, deferred to him with the confidence of pupils to a beloved teacher.

He had his faults, but they were not of a kind to prevent men from finding him lovable.

The failure of the people to elect a President in 1824, and the choice of John Quincy Adams by the House of Representatives, are among the most widely known events in our political history.

Then it was known that Van Rensselaer's vote had given New York to Adams, and that New York's vote had made Adams the President.

The election of John Quincy Adams as President of the United States staggered the Regency and seriously threatened the influence of Martin Van Buren.

More injurious than this, it established new party alignments and gave great prestige at least to one man before unrecognised as a political factor.

The successful combination of the Adams and Clay electors was the talk of the State; and, although Thurlow Weed's dominant part in the game did not appear on the surface, Van Buren and every intelligent political worker understood that…

To a man of intellect far lower than that of Martin Van Buren, it must have been obvious that forces were at work in the minds and hearts of people which could not be controlled by Regency edicts or party traditions.

His turn came; and he arose and made a clear, straightforward argument, which, to my mind, disposed of the whole subject.

When he spoke at all he spoke explicitly; and he plainly, though without acerbity, exhibited his likes and dislikes.

To elect him President, therefore, became the purpose of Van Buren's political life; and, as the first step in that direction, he determined to make DeWitt Clinton his friend.

He entered the United States Senate in 1821, and, although observing the decorum expected of a new member of that body, he displayed powers of mind that distinguished him as a senator of more than ordinary ability.

He was the master of the art of making a perfectly clear statement of the most complicated case, and of defending his measures, point by point, with never-failing readiness and skill throughout the most perplexing series of debates.

He talked to make converts, appealing to his colleagues with a directness well calculated to bring to his side a majority of the waverers.