The choice that Clay now had to make was distasteful, although not really difficult. Jackson had obtained a substantial plurality of the electoral votes; he probably had a plurality of the popular vote, although in the six States in which the electors were chosen by the Legislature the popular vote could not be computed; the Legislature of Clay's own State called upon the Congressmen from the State to give the Tenneseean its support. But Clay had felt very bitterly about the candidacy of "this military chieftain." Furthermore, he knew that if Jackson were to be elected, the country would not be disposed to take his successor from the West. Besides, Calhoun had put himself in line for the Jacksonian succession. On the other hand, Clay was not without grievances against Adams. The New Englander had captured the coveted Secretaryship of State in Monroe's Cabinet; he had taken no pains to conceal his dislike of the Kentucky "gamester in politics"; his foreign policy had been the target of many of Clay's keenest oratorical thrusts. But the country would be safe in his hands; and a popular westerner might well hope to become his successor. The decision in favor of Adams was reached with little delay and was confided to intimates almost two months before the House balloted. Though Clay's choice did not insure the election of Adams, it made that outcome extremely probable. As the weeks passed, the situation became more tense. All the principals in the drama were at the capital--Adams as Secretary of State, Crawford as Secretary of the Treasury, Clay as Speaker of the House, Jackson as Senator--and the city was filled with followers who busied themselves in proposing combinations and making promises which, for the greater part, could not be traced to the candidates themselves. O'Neil's Tavern--graced by the vivacious "Peggy," who, as Mrs. John H. Eaton, was later to upset the equilibrium of the Jackson Administration--and other favorite lodging houses were the scenes of midnight conferences, intimate conversations, and mysterious comings and goings which kept their oldest and most sophisticated frequenters on the alert. "Incedo super ignes--I walk over fires," confided the straitlaced Adams to his diary, and not without reason. A group of Clay's friends came to the New Englander's room to urge in somewhat veiled language that their chief be promised, in return for his support, a place in the Cabinet. A Missouri representative who held the balance of power in his delegation plainly offered to swing the State for Adams if the latter would agree to retain a brother on the federal bench and be "reasonable" in the matter of patronage.