ABSTRACT
“Who is James K. Polk?” demanded the Whigs contemptuously of their Democratic opponents during the presidential canvass of 1844. In feigning astonishment at the Democratic choice, these men were exploiting a dilemma which long characterized Polk’s political career. Except among his close associates he was unloved and unappreciated in his own day; throughout the nineteenth century Americans all but ignored him. Perhaps the reason is clear. Men are remembered for their unique qualities, and Polk had none. In oratory he lacked the elegance of Daniel Webster; in intellect, the preciseness of John C. Calhoun. In reputation he was no match for the Whig party’s gallant hero, Henry Clay. Not even in personality or appearance was he conspicuous. He was below average in height, with thin face and piercing grey eyes. He wore his hair long and brushed back behind his ears. He was an uncompromising Presbyterian—a man honest and incorruptible, thoughtful and meditative, slow and measured in speech, methodical and industrious. Polk’s personal attributes were worthy, even admirable, but they hardly conveyed distinction.
