own, which, being much more stable and acceptable, tended to drive the funny money out of circulation. From one point of view, the Bank was providing the country with a stable and uniform currency and centrally, sensibly controlling the pace of growth. That was how it looked, generally speaking, to the investing communities concentrated in the North- east’s major cities (the Bank’s headquarters were in Philadelphia). But, from another angle, the Bank looked like a state- protected monopoly enriching itself and its friends without a shred of accountability to voters. That was how it appeared to potential borrowers in the South and especially in the developing West.

In the emerging political fight with its opponents, the Bank won the early rounds. Its branches multiplied—eventually there were 29 of them —and when states tried to tax these, John Marshall’s Supreme Court (in McCulloch v. Maryland, 1819) said that the Constitution forbade it. Near the end of the 1820s, the Bank was doing $70,000,000 a year in business and circulating $21,000,000 of its own notes. But, by that time, the battle had become a war, a personal grudge match between two great and colorful egotists whose unbending wills turned politics into theater. In 1823, Nicholas Biddle was named president of the Bank. Five years later, Andrew Jackson was elected president of the United States, an office that Biddle seems to have thought inferior in distinction to his own.

Biddle was a true American aristocrat. Born to an old Philadelphia family, he was a prodigy who was valedictorian of his Princeton graduating class at the age of 15. He married an heiress, read the classics in the original, collected art, and was as dramatic an antithesis as could be imagined to Jackson, the self-educated frontier soldier who had become the people’s idol.

Jackson came into office without any immediate plan to attack the Bank but with a general attitude that he expressed to Biddle at one point with the words “I do not dislike your bank any more than all banks.” He distrusted all forms of paper currency, which he believed could be manipulated by insiders, and he likewise doubted the constitutionality of Congress’s chartering a bank anywhere but in the District of Columbia.

Biddle did nothing to placate the new administration. Rumors spread that Bank branch directors in New Hampshire, Kentucky, and Louisiana had used their money and influence to back anti-Jackson candidates in 1828. When Jackson directed a cabinet officer to ask Biddie for an investigation (and recall that the United States was a stockholder in the Bank), Biddle’s refusal was unambiguous. He and his directors acknowledged “not the slightest responsibility of any description whatsoever to the Secretary of the Treasury touching the political opinions and conduct of their officers.” Jackson was not a man to take lightly a command to mind his own business. He soon let it be known that he wanted Congress to consider possible alternative arrangements for the country’s fiscal affairs,

but he did not make a flat commitment to block a renewal of the Bank’s charter, for he did not want to face the issue in an 1832 campaign for a second term.

But Biddle then unwisely took the offensive. If Jackson chose to fight, he said, “he may perhaps awaken a spirit which has hitherto been checked & reined in.” Biddle subsidized pro-Bank newspapers, speakers, and candidates, and succc’eded in having a recharter bill introduced in 1832. The measure passed the Senate 20-8 and the House 107-85.

But he had turned from a mere opponent into a mortal enemy of Andrew Jackson, a role that few survived. “The Bank,” Jackson told Martin Van Buren in May 1832, “is trying to kill me, but I will kill it.” He pounced on the opportunity to use the veto power rarely- employed by the six previous presidents (only ten times, all on constitutional grounds), and his veto message was a rallying cry for what historians came to call “Jacksonian democracy.” The Bank became a symbol for anti- Americanism, for the arrogance of privilege and the corrupting influence of money. Eight million of the Bank’s stock privately held was in the hands of foreigners. Recharter would boost its value, so by the bill “the American Republic proposes virtually to make them a present of some millions.” And, as the recharter bill showed, “the rich and powerful too often bend the acts of government to their selfish purposes.”

Some historians charge that Jackson was demagoguing. The foreign-held stock did not have voting rights and the twenty million dollars held by Americans (excluding the government’s seven million) were, according to one scholar, “widely distributed and actively traded.” What is more, anti-Bank voters were not all commoners; many were themselves capitalists who wanted the Bank’s chokehold on credit broken for their own selfish advantage. Nonetheless, the message was a landmark use of presidential power. Jackson had ranged himself as champion of the entire American people against what a later popular president (FDR) would call economic royalists. He had also managed to take on Congress itself and, indirectly, the Supreme Court.

The veto was upheld, and what was more, Jackson was re-elected. But the war wasn’t quite over. Jackson was now determined not to wait until the charter expired. He ordered that the government’s deposits be removed from the Bank and distributed to state banks of his choosing. It was a highly questionable action under the law, and the Senate voted to censure him for it. Then Biddle retaliated, saying: “This worthy- President thinks that because he has scalped Indians and imprisoned Judges he is to have his way with the Bank. He is mistaken.”

Biddle had the Bank curtail loans throughout the nation—they went down by $18,000,000 in a few months—and demand the immediate redemption of state bank notes in specie as fast as possible. He hoped to create a depression that would show America what it was losing if the Bank went down. But,

once more, he had miscalculated. The hard times following the contraction turned people against the Bank, not against Jackson, and his handpicked successor, Van Buren, won the election of 1836. Jackson exulted: “I have obtained a glorious triumph … and put to death, that mamouth of corruption.”

On a personal level, Biddle was the heaviest loser. After 1836, he got the Bank chartered to operate in Pennsylvania, but then indulged in some questionable speculations to sustain its solvency. He was forced to resign under a cloud in 1839, was sued by irate stockholders, and was even arrested on a criminal conspiracy charge but later freed. He died in 1844 at the age of 58. Jackson, though, 19 years his senior, had the satisfaction of outliving him by a year.

Some contemporary economists think that Biddle was right on the issue if wrong on the tactics. Without a central bank like those of European powers, the United States struggled through a series of booms and busts during much of the 19th and early 20th centuries. But whether or not that is true, the question that Jackson raised —how to control the power generated when big government and high finance become partners instead of adversaries —is still very much alive.