Snubbing a President: Martin Van Buren, Saratoga, and “The Cut Direct”

In the early nineteenth century, summer hotspots like Saratoga Springs, New York, were more than fashionable retreats—they were political stages. Presidents, governors, and ambitious office-seekers flocked to places like Congress Hall and the United States Hotel to mingle with voters, measure public sentiment, and be seen. In the summer of 1839, as the nation still struggled under the long shadow of the Panic of 1837, one visitor drew more attention than most: President Martin Van Buren.

He arrived on August 2, greeted by bands, carriages, and an eager crowd. Among those in Saratoga that summer were future First Lady Julia Gardiner and her parents, David and Juliana. What unfolded during those days—and what Juliana recorded in her wonderfully descriptive letters—became one of the most talked-about social dramas of the season.

The Historian’s Voice

Christopher J. Leahy, President Without a Party: The Life of John Tyler (Louisiana State University Press, 2020)

“His grand entrance was preceded by a numerous procession of Carriages—Barouches, Wagons & gigs accompanied by music then the President, in an open Barouche, followed by more carriages. He sat with his hat off bowing low as he passed Congress Hall.”
—Juliana Gardiner to Alexander Gardiner, Aug. 4, 1839

One day after his arrival, the Gardiners called on the president. Juliana recorded the encounter with her usual blend of attentiveness and dry observation: “We found him seated in his Boston rocking chair. He received us at or near the door in perfectly gentlemanly style, self-possessed of course, and amiably affable with sufficient dignity.”

But Saratoga’s political theater soon turned uncomfortably dramatic.

Not long after Van Buren arrived, he spotted Catherine Jones Clinton, widow of his longtime political rival DeWitt Clinton, standing in the parlor of the United States Hotel. Striding toward her, the president greeted her warmly—only to have her pointedly refuse his outstretched hand. To ensure her meaning was unmistakable, she turned her head dramatically and allowed observers to watch her reject the president of the United States.

Juliana described the moment with astonishment:

“Mrs. Clinton cut the President at the United States [Hotel] the day of his arrival—which all that I have heard express an opinion condemns.”
—Juliana Gardiner to David L. Gardiner, Aug. 6, 1839

In the etiquette of the day, a “cut” was a deliberate snub. To refuse a greeting and turn away from someone—especially someone of high office—was to stage a public humiliation. And in the world of 1830s politics, where reputation and social polish mattered as much as speeches and platforms, this was no small gesture.

The episode swiftly escaped the hotel’s parlor. New York newspapers seized on the story, some with evident delight. Printmaker Henry Dacre rushed out a lithographic caricature titled “The Cut Direct,” lampooning Van Buren in the midst of his embarrassment. Political caricature was becoming a potent weapon in the age of Jackson and the 1830s made it an art form.

Gracious as ever, Van Buren brushed off the insult. But the moment underscored just how precarious his political fortunes were. He would lose his reelection bid the following year to Whig candidate William Henry Harrison.

Visiting Van Buren’s World Today

The world of New York elegance, political maneuvering, and summer society that shaped Martin Van Buren is still remarkably alive at Lindenwald, his estate in Kinderhook, New York. Today, the house is a National Park Service site—and one of the few presidential homes open year-round, including during the winter holidays.
For families visiting the Hudson Valley when so many destinations are closed for the season, Lindenwald remains a rare and beautiful exception.

👉 Learn more or plan your visit:
National Park Service: Martin Van Buren National Historic Site https://www.nps.gov/mava/index.htm

Why It Matters

Moments like “the cut direct” remind us that the social world of early America carried real power. A snub wasn’t just a quarrel—it could fuel newspapers, shape political fortunes, and influence how the public saw their leaders. Through Juliana Gardiner’s letters, we glimpse these human dramas unfolding in real time, revealing how personal interactions and public image could sway the course of history.