The suspense was painful. People did not go to bed, watching for the mails. When at last the decisive news went forth which left no doubt of the result, the Whigs broke out in a wail of agony all over the land. “It was,” says Nathan Sargent, “as if the first-born of every family had been stricken down.” The descriptions we have of the grief manifested are almost incredible. Tears flowed in abundance from the eyes of men and women. In the cities and villages the business places were almost deserted for a day or two, people gathering together in groups to discuss in low tones what had happened. Neither did the victorious Democrats indulge in the usual demonstrations of triumph. There was a feeling as if a great wrong had been done. The Whigs were fairly stunned by their defeat. Not a few expressed the apprehension that their party would dissolve. Many despaired of the Republic, sincerely believing that the experiment of popular government had failed forever. Others insisted that the naturalization laws must be forthwith repealed. Almost all agreed that the great statesmen of the country would thenceforth always remain excluded from the presidency, and that the highest office would be the prize only of second-rate politicians. Clay himself was in a gloomy state of mind. “The late blow that has fallen upon our country is very heavy,” he wrote to a friend. “I hope that she may recover from it, but I confess that
