Newspapers, except those for Crawford, denounced the old system;
legislatures passed resolutions against it; public meetings condemned
it; ponderous pamphlets were hurled at it; the campaigns of Jackson
and Clay, in particular, found their keynote in hostility toward it.
Failing to perceive that under the changed circumstances a caucus
nomination might become a liability rather than an asset, the Crawford
element pushed its plans, and on February 14, 1824, a caucus--destined
to be the last of the kind in the country--was duly held. It proved a
fiasco, for it was attended by only sixty-six persons. Crawford was
"recommended to the people of the United States" by an almost
unanimous vote, but the only effect was to infuse fresh energy into
the campaigns of his leading competitors. "The caucus," wrote Daniel
Webster to his brother Ezekiel, "has hurt nobody but its friends."

For the first time in eight years the country witnessed a real
presidential contest. The campaign, none the less, was one in which
the candidates themselves took but little active part. The days of
"swinging around the circle" had not yet dawned in our national
politics, nor had even those of the "front-porch" campaign. Adams made
no effort either to be nominated or to be elected, retaining
throughout the contest that austere reserve in public manner which
contrasted so singularly with his amiability and good humor in private
life. Jackson remained quietly at the Hermitage, replying to
correspondents and acknowledging expressions of support, but leaving
to his managers the work of winning the voters. Clay, whose oratorical
gifts would have made him an invincible twentieth century campaigner,
contented himself with a few interviews and speeches. The candidate
who normally would have taken most active personal part in the
campaign was Crawford. But in August, 1823--six months before the
caucus nomination--he was stricken with paralysis and rendered