[NOTE.—The Committee of Thirteen, to which reference is made on p. 94, and which attained such extraordinary importance at the time, was originally suggested by Senator Foote of Mississippi. His first proposition was somewhat novel from its distinct recognition of the sectional character of the issues involved. He proposed that the committee be chosen by ballot, that six members of it should be taken from the free States and six members from the slave States, and that the twelve thus chosen should select a thirteenth member who should be chairman of the committee. All propositions touching any of the questions at issue between the North and the South were to be referred to this committee with the view of securing a general and comprehensive compromise. The subject was debated for several weeks. Mr. Foote submitted his proposition on the 25th of February, 1850, and it was not adopted until the 18th of April. The committee was chosen on the 19th. Mr. Clay had objected to the open avowal of a division of the committee on the line of North and South, and the proposition was so modified as to simply provide for a committee of thirteen to be chosen by ballot,—the chairman to be first selected, and the other twelve members on a second ballot. The change of the resolution was one of form only; for, when the Senate came to select the members, they adhered to the plan originally suggested by Mr. Foote. Mr. Clay was made chairman, which had been the design from the first, and then six senators were taken from the free States and six from the slave States,— the first, if not the only, time this mode of appointment was adopted. The membership of the committee was highly distinguished. From the free States the Senate selected Mr. Webster, General Cass, Mr. Dickinson of New York, Mr. Bright of Indiana, Mr. Phelps of Vermont, and Mr. Cooper of Pennsylvania. From the slave States, Mr. King of Alabama, Mr. Mason of Virginia, Mr. Downs of Louisiana, Mr. Mangum of North Carolina, Mr. Bell of Tennessee, and Mr. Berrien of Georgia. The twelve were equally divided between the Whigs and the Democrats, so that, with Mr. Clay as chairman, the Whigs had the majority in numbers as they had the overwhelming superiority in weight and ability. The composition of the committee was remarkable when it is remembered that the Democrats had a majority of ten in the Senate.]
Review (continued).—The Strength of the Democratic Party in 1853.—Popular Strength not so great as Electoral Strength.—The New President's Pledge not to re-open the Slavery Question.—How he failed to maintain that Pledge.—The North-west Territory.—Anti- slavery Restriction of the Missouri Compromise.—Movement to repeal it by Mr. Clay's Successor in the Senate.—Mr. Douglas adopts the policy of repealing the Restriction.—It is made an Administration Measure and carried through Congress.—Colonel Benton's Position. —Anti-slavery Excitement developed in the Country.—Destruction of the Whig Party.—New Political Alliances.—American Party.—Know- Nothings.—Origin and Growth of the Republican Party.—Pro-slavery Development in the South.—Contest for the Possession of Kansas.— Prolonged Struggle.—Disunion Tendencies developing in the South. —Election of N. P. Banks to the Speakership of the House.—The Presidential Election of 1856.—Buchanan.—Frémont.—Fillmore.— The Slavery Question the Absorbing Issue.—Triumph of Buchanan.— Dred Scott Decision.—Mr. Lincoln's Version of it.—Chief Justice Taney.
The Democratic party, seeing their old Whig rival prostrate, naturally concluded that a long lease of power was granted them. The victory of Pierce was so complete that his supporters could not with closest scrutiny descry an opponent worthy of the slightest consideration. If the leaders of that party, however, had deigned to look below the surface, they would have learned a fact which, if not disquieting, was at least serious and significant. This fact was contained in the popular vote, which told an entirely different story from that disclosed by the Presidential electors. From the people Pierce received a total of 1,601,274 votes, Scott 1,386,580, Hale 155,825. It will be noted that, while receiving only one-sixth as many electoral votes as Pierce, Scott received more than five-sixths as many votes at the polls. Adding the vote of Hale, it will be observed that out of a total exceeding three millions, Pierce's absolute majority was but 58,896. Thoughtful men, wise in the administration of government, skilled in the management of parties, would have found in these figures food for reflection and abundant reason for hoisting cautionary signals along the shores of the political sea. The Democratic leaders were not, however, disturbed by facts or figures, but were rather made stronger in the confidence of their own strength. They beheld the country prosperous in all its material interests, and they saw the mass of the people content in both sections with the settlement of the slavery question. Since the Compromise measures were enacted in 1850, and especially since the two political parties had pledged themselves in 1852 to accept those measures as a finality, the slavery agitation had to a very large extent subsided. Disturbance was not indeed infrequently caused by the summary arrest of fugitive slaves in various parts of the North, under the stringent and harsh provisions of the new law on that subject. But though these peculiarly odious transactions exerted a deeper influence on public opinion than the Democratic leaders imagined, they were local and apparently under control. There was no national disquietude on the vexed question of slavery when Franklin Pierce was installed as President.
In his Inaugural address General Pierce pledged himself with evident zeal to the upholding of the Compromise measures and to the rigid enforcement of the laws. There is no doubt that a large majority of the people of the United States—North and South—were satisfied with the situation and bade God-speed to the popular President whose administration opened so auspiciously. The year 1853 was politically as quiet as Monroe's era of good feeling, and when Congress came together in its closing month, the President dwelt impressively upon the dangers we had passed and upon the blessings that were in store for us. In tones of solemnity he declared that when "the grave shall have closed over all who are now endeavoring to meet the obligations of duty, the year 1850 will be recurred to as a period of anxious apprehension." With high praise of the Compromise legislation of that year he said "it had given renewed vigor to our institutions and restored a sense of repose and security to the public mind." Evidently remembering the pledge given by the convention which nominated him "to resist all attempts at renewing the agitation of the slavery question in or out of Congress," the President gave emphatic assurance that this "repose" should suffer no shock during his term if he "had the power to avert it." These words were addressed to Congress on the fifth day of December, 1853, and it would be uncandid to deny that even in the North they were heartily approved by a large majority of the people,—perhaps by a majority in every State.
In precisely one month from the delivery of these words by the President an ominous movement was made in Congress. Notwithstanding all the vows of fealty to the Compromise of 1850, the pro-slavery leaders of the South were not contented with the aspect of affairs. The result of the Mexican war had deeply disappointed them. Its most striking political effect thus far was the addition to the Union of a large and imposing free State on the Pacific,—an empire indeed in prospective wealth and power. In the battle between free institutions and slave institutions, California represented a strong flank movement threatening destruction to slavery. Her vote in the Senate gave a majority of two to the free States. The equality of the sections had been steadily maintained in the Senate since the admission of Louisiana in 1812. The break now was ominous; the claim of equality had been disregarded; the superstition which upheld it was dispelled, and the defenders of slavery could see only a long procession of free States marching from the North-West to re-enforce a power already irresistibly strong. From what quarter of the Union could this anti-slavery aggression be offset? By what process could its growth be checked? Texas might, if she chose to ask for her own partition, re-enforce the slave-power in the Senate by four new States, as guaranteed in the articles of annexation. But the very majesty of her dimensions protested against dismemberment. Texas was as large as France, and from the Sabine to the Rio Grande there was not a cotton-planter or a cattle- herder who did not have this fact before his eyes to inflame his pride and guide his vote against parting with a single square mile of her magnificent domain. New Mexico and Utah were mountainous and arid, inviting only the miner and the grazier and offering no inducement for the labor of the slave. The right guaranteed to these territories in the Compromise of 1850 to come in as slave States was, therefore, as Mr. Webster had maintained, a concession of form and not of substance to the South. Seeing slavery thus hemmed in on all sides by nature as well as law, and sincerely believing that in such a position its final extinction was but a question of time, the Southern leaders determined to break the bonds that bound them. From their own point of reasoning they were correct. To stand still was certain though slow destruction to slavery. To move was indeed hazardous, but it gave them a chance to re-establish their equality in the administration of the government, and for this they determined to risk every thing.
To the westward and north-westward of Missouri and Iowa lay a vast territory which in 1854 was not only unsettled but had no form of civil government whatever. It stretched from the north line of Arkansas to the border of British America,—twelve and a half degrees of latitude,—and westward over great plains and across mountain ranges till it reached the confines of Utah and Oregon. It was the unorganized remainder of the territory of Louisiana, acquired from France in 1803, and in extent was ten times as large as the combined area of New York and Pennsylvania. By the Missouri Compromise every square mile of this domain had been honorably devoted to freedom. At the period named Indian tribes roamed at will throughout its whole extent and lighted their camp-fires on the very borders of Missouri and Iowa. Herds of buffalo grazed undisturbed on lands which to-day constitute the sites of large cities. Fort Leavenworth was a far-western outpost, Council Bluffs was on the frontier of civilization, and Omaha had not been named. Adventurous merchants passed over the plains to the South-West with long caravans, engaged in the Santa-Fé trade, and towards the North- West, hunters, trappers, and a few hardy emigrants penetrated the "Platte country," and through mountain passes pointed out by the trail of the Indian and the buffalo had in many instances safely crossed to Oregon. The tide of emigration which had filled Iowa and Wisconsin, and which by the gold excitement of California had for a time been drawn to the Pacific slope, now set again more strongly then ever to the Mississippi valley, demanding and needing new lands for settlement and cultivation. To answer this requirement a movement was made during the closing weeks of Mr. Fillmore's administration to establish the territory of Nebraska. A bill to that effect was passed by a two-thirds vote in the House. The slight opposition that was made came from the South, but its significance was not perceived. When the bill reached the Senate Mr. Douglas, as chairman of the committee on territories, promptly reported it, and made an apparently sincere effort to pass it. He did not succeed. Every senator from the slave-holding States, except those from Missouri,—which was locally interested in having the territory organized,—voted against it;—and the measure, antagonizing other business in which Northern senators were more immediately interested, was laid upon the table two days before President Pierce was inaugurated. The bill had fully recognized the binding force of the Missouri Compromise, and if it had passed, there could have been no pretense for the introduction of slavery in the territory of Nebraska.
Directly after the assurance so impressively given by the President that the "repose" of the country on the slavery question "should suffer no shock during his administration," the bill to organize the Territory of Nebraska was again introduced in the Senate. The motive for its defeat the preceding session was soon made apparent. Mr. Archibald Dixon of Kentucky, the last Whig governor of that State, had been chosen to succeed Mr. Clay in the Senate. But he did not succeed to Mr. Clay's political principles. He belonged to a class of men that had been recently and rapidly growing in the South,—men avowedly and aggressively pro-slavery. Mr. Dixon was the first to strike an open blow against the Missouri Compromise. Mr. Clay had been honorably identified with the pacific work of 1820, and throughout his life believed that it had been effectual in allaying the strife which in his judgment had endangered the Union. It was an alarming fact that his own successor in the Senate —less than two years after Mr. Clay's death—was the first to assail his work and to re-open a controversy which was not to cease till a continent was drenched in blood. Mr. Dixon made no concealment of his motive and his purpose, declaring that he wished the restriction removed because he was a pro-slavery man. He gave notice early in January, 1854, that when the bill to organize the Territory of Nebraska should come before the Senate, he would move that "the Missouri Compromise be repealed, and that the citizens of the several States shall be at liberty to take and hold their slaves within any of the Territories." It was very soon found that this was not a capricious movement by Mr. Dixon alone, but that behind him there was a settled determination on the part of the pro-slavery men to break down the ancient barrier and to remove the honored landmark of 1820.
The Senate had a large Democratic majority, and there was probably not one among them all who had not in the Presidential contest of 1852 publicly and solemnly vowed that the Compromise measures of 1850 were a final settlement of the slavery question, not in any event, nor upon any pretext, to be disturbed. It was specially embarrassing and perilous for Northern senators to violate pledges so recently made, so frequently repeated. It much resembled the breaking of a personal promise, and seemed to the mass of people in the free State to be a gross breach of national honor. To escape the sharp edge of condemnation, sure to follow such a transaction, a pretense was put forth that the Compromise of 1820 was in conflict with the Compromise of 1850, and that it was necessary to repeal the former in order that the doctrine of non-intervention with slavery in the Territories should become the recognized policy for all the public domain of the United States. Mr. Douglas was the first to adopt this construction. Indeed, to him may fairly be ascribed the credit or the discredit of inventing it. He had a strong hold on the South, and in his Congressional life had steadily voted on the pro-slavery side of all public questions. But he instinctively foresaw that his political future would be endangered by advocating the repeal of the Missouri Compromise on the basis and for the reason announced by Mr. Dixon. Hence the resort to the doctrine of non-intervention under which the South should get all they wished by having the right to carry their slaves into the territory, and the North could be conciliated by the presentation of another final settlement of all issues which threatened the perpetuity of the Union.
Instead of the single Territory of Nebraska, Mr. Douglas reported a measure to organize both Kansas and Nebraska; and in one of the sections of the bill the Missouri Compromise of 1820 was declared to be inoperative and void, because "inconsistent with the principle of non-intervention by Congress with slavery in the States and Territories as recognized by the Compromise measures of 1850." The bill further declared that "its true intent and meaning was not to legislate slavery into any Territory or State, and not to exclude it therefrom, but to leave the people perfectly free to regulate their domestic institutions in their own way." The North was fairly stunned by the proposition made by Mr. Douglas. Had he proposed to abolish the Constitution itself the surprise could scarcely have been greater. The acting generation had grown to manhood with profound respect and even reverence for the Missouri Compromise, and had come to regard it almost as sacredly as though it were part of the organic law of the Republic. If a Southern man talked of its repeal it was regarded as the mere bravado of an extremist. But now a Northern senator of remarkable ability, a party leader, a candidate for the Presidency, had reported the measure, and made it a test of Democratic faith, of administration fealty. The contest that followed was severe and prolonged. The bill was before Congress for a period of four months, and was finally forced through to the utter destruction of good faith between the sections. More than forty Democratic representatives from the North flatly defied party discipline and voted against the repeal. The Democratic representatives from the slave States were consolidated in its favor, with the exception of John Millson, an able member from Virginia, and the venerable Thomas H. Benton of Missouri.
After Colonel Benton's thirty years' service in the Senate had terminated, the city of St. Louis sent him to the House in the autumn of 1852. He had entered the Senate when Missouri came into the Union as the result of the Compromise of 1820. He had remained there until after the Compromise of 1850 was adopted. He denounced the proceeding of Douglas with unsparing severity, and gave his best efforts, but in vain, to defeat the bill. He pointed out the fact that the original Compromise had been forced upon the North by the South, and that the present proposition to repeal it had been initiated "without a memorial, without a petition, without a request from any human being. It was simply and only a contrivance of political leaders, who were using the institution of slavery as a weapon, and rushing the country forward to excitements and conflicts in which there was no profit to either section, and possibly great harm to both." Colonel Benton belonged to a class of Southern Democrats who were passing away,—of whom he, indeed, was the last in conspicuous stature. He represented the Democracy of Andrew Jackson and of Nathaniel Macon,—not the Democracy of Mr. Calhoun. He placed the value of the Union above the value of slavery, and was a relentless foe to all who plotted against the integrity of the government. But his day was past, his power was broken, his influence was gone. Even in his own State he had been beaten, and David R. Atchison installed as leader of the Democratic party. His efforts were vain, his protest unheard; and amid the sorrow and gloom of thinking men, and the riotous rejoicings of those who could not measure the evil of their work, the Douglas Bill was passed. On the thirtieth of May, 1854, the wise and patriotic Compromise of March 6, 1820, was declared to be at an end, and the advocates and the opponents of slavery were invited to a trial of strength on the public domain of the United States.
No previous anti-slavery excitement bore any comparison with that which spread over the North as the discussion progressed, and especially after the bill became a law. It did not merely call forth opposition; it produced almost a frenzy of wrath on the part of thousands and tens of thousands in both the old parties, who had never before taken any part whatever in anti-slavery agitation. So conservative a statesman as Edward Everett, who had succeeded John Davis as senator from Massachusetts, pointed out the fallacy not to say the falsehood of the plea that the Compromise measures of 1850 required or involved this legislation. This plea was an afterthought, a pretense, contradicted by the discussion of 1850 in its entire length and breadth. In the North, conservative men felt that no compromise could acquire weight or sanction or sacredness, if one that had stood for a whole generation could be brushed aside by partisan caprice or by the demands of sectional necessity. The popular fury was further stimulated by the fact that from the territory included in the Louisiana purchase, three slave States had been added to the Union, and as yet only one free State; and that the solemn guaranty securing all the domain north of 36° 30´ was now to be trodden under foot when its operation was likely to prove hostile to slavery and favorable to freedom. From the beginning of the government the slave-holding interest had secured the advantage in the number of States formed from territory added to the original Union. The South had Louisiana, Arkansas, and Missouri out of the purchase from France in 1803, Florida from the purchase from Spain in 1819, and Texas, with its possibility of being divided into four additional States, from the annexation of 1845. The North had only Iowa from the Louisiana purchase and California from the territory ceded by Mexico. The North would not stop to consider its prospective advantages in the territory yet to be settled, while the South could see nothing else. The South realized that although it had secured five States and the North only two, Southern territory was exhausted, while the creation of free States in the North-West had just begun. Stripped of all the disguises with which it was surrounded by the specious cry of non-intervention by Congress, the majority in the North came to see that it was in reality nothing but a struggle between the slave States and the free States, growing more and more intense and more and more dangerous day by day.
The most striking result in the political field, produced by the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, was the utter destruction of the Whig party. Had the Southern Whigs in Congress maintained the sacredness of the work of 1820, the party throughout the country would have been able to make a sturdy contest, notwithstanding the crushing defeat of Scott two years before. Not improbably in the peculiar state of public opinion, the Whigs, by maintaining the Compromise, might have been able to carry the Presidential election of 1856. But with the exception of John Bell in the Senate and seven members of the House, the entire Whig party of the South joined the Democrats in repealing the Compromise. Of these seven, Emerson Etheridge of Tennessee and Theodore G. Hunt of Louisiana deserve especial and honorable mention for the courage with which they maintained their position. But when John M. Clayton of Delaware, who had voted to prohibit slavery in all the Territories, now voted to strike down the only legal barrier to its extension; when Badger of North Carolina, who had been the very soul of conservatism, now joined in the wild cry of the pro-slavery Democrats; when James Alfred Pearce of Maryland and James C. Jones of Tennessee united with Jefferson Davis, the Whig party of the South ceased to exist. Indeed, before this final blow large numbers of Southern Whigs had gone over to the Democracy. Toombs and Stephens and Judah P. Benjamin had been among the foremost supporters of Pierce, and had been specially influential in consolidating the South in his favor. But the great body of Whigs both in the South and in the North did not lose hope of a strong re-organization of their old party until the destruction of the Missouri Compromise had been effected. That was seen and felt by all to be the end.
Thenceforward new alliances were rapidly formed. In the South those Whigs who, though still unwilling to profess an anti-slavery creed, would not unite with the Democrats, were re-organized under the name of the American party, with Humphrey Marshall, Henry Winter Davis, Horace Maynard, and men of that class, for leaders. This party was founded on proscription of foreigners, and with special hostility to the Roman-Catholic Church. It had a fitful and feverish success, and in 1845-5, under the name ofKnow-Nothings, enrolled tens of thousands in secret lodges. But its creed was narrow, its principles were illiberal, and its methods of procedure boyish and undignified. The great body of thinking men in the North saw that the real contest impending was against slavery and not against naturalization laws and ecclesiastical dogmas. The Know-Nothings, therefore, speedily disappeared, and a new party sprang into existence composed of anti-slavery Whigs and anti-slavery Democrats. The latter infused into the ranks of the new organization a spirit and an energy which Whig traditions could never inspire. The same name was not at once adopted in all the free States in 1854, but by the ensuing year there was a general recognition throughout the North that all who intended to make a serious fight against the pro-slavery Democracy would unite under the flag of the Republican party. In its very first effort, without compact organization, without discipline, it rallied the anti-slavery sentiment so successfully as to carry nearly all the free States and to secure a plurality of the members of the House of Representatives. The indignation of the people knew no bounds. Old political landmarks disappeared, and party prejudices of three generations were swept aside in a day. With such success in the outset, the Republicans prepared for a vigorous struggle in the approaching Presidential election.
The anti-slavery development of the North was not more intense than the pro-slavery development of the South. Every other issue was merged in the one absorbing demand by Southern slave-holders for what they sincerely believed to be their rights in the Territories. It was not viewed on either side as an ordinary political contest. It was felt to be a question not of expediency but of morality, not of policy but of honor. It did not merely enlist men. Women took large part in the agitation. It did not end with absorbing the laity. The clergy were as profoundly concerned. The power of the Church on both sides of the dividing-line was used with great effect in shaping public opinion and directing political action. The Missouri Compromise was repealed in May. Before the end of the year a large majority of the people of the North and a large majority of the people of the South were distinctly arrayed against each other on a question which touched the interest, the pride, the conscience, and the religion of all who were concerned in the controversy. Had either side been insincere there would have been voluntary yielding or enforced adjustment. But each felt itself to be altogether in the right and its opponent altogether in the wrong. Thus they stood confronting each other at the close of the year 1854.
It was soon perceived by all, as the sagacious had seen from the first, that the Missouri Compromise had not been repealed merely to exhibit unity in the scope of the United-States statutes respecting slavery in the Territories. This was the euphuistic plea of those Northern senators and representatives who had given dire offense to their constituents by voting for it. It was the clever artifice of Douglas which suggested that construction. It was a deception, and it was contradicted and exposed by the logic of argument in the North and by the logic of action in the South. No double- dealing was attempted by the Southern men. They understood the question perfectly and left the apologies and explanations to Northern men, who were hard pressed by anti-slavery constituents. Southern men knew that the repeal of the Missouri Compromise gave them a privilege which they had not before enjoyed,—the privilege of settling with their slaves on the rich plains and in the fertile valleys that stretched westward from the Missouri River. In maintaining this privilege, they felt sure of aid from the Executive of the United States, and they had the fullest confidence that in any legal controversy the Federal judiciary would be on their side.
Thus panoplied they made a desperate contest for the possession of Kansas. They had found that all the crops grown in Missouri by slave labor could be as profitably cultivated in Kansas. Securing Kansas, they would gain more than the mere material advantage of an enlarged field for slave labor. New Mexico at that time included all of Arizona; Utah included all of Nevada; Kansas, as organized, absorbed a large part of what is now Colorado, stretched along the eastern and northern boundary of New Mexico, and, crossing the Rocky Mountains, reached the confines of Utah. If Kansas could be made a slave State it would control New Mexico and Utah, and the South could again be placed in a position of political equality if not of command. The repeal of the Missouri Compromise had shown them for the first time that they could absolutely consolidate the Southern vote in Congress in defense of slavery, regardless of differences on all other issues. But this power was of no avail, unless they could regain their equality in the Senate which had been lost by what they considered the mishap of California's admission. While Clay and Benton were in the Senate with their old reverence for the Union and their desire for the ultimate extinction of slavery, California could neither be kept out nor divided on the line of 36° 30´. But the new South, the South of Jefferson Davis and Alexander H. Stephens, of Robert Toombs and Judah P. Benjamin, of James M. Mason and John C. Breckinridge, had made new advances, was inspired by new ambitions, and was determined upon the consolidation of sectional power. The one supreme need was another slave State. If this could be acquired they felt assured that so long as the Union should exist no free State could be admitted without the corresponding admission of another slave State. They would perhaps have been disappointed. Possibly they did not give sufficient heed to the influences which were steadily working against slavery in such States as Delaware and Maryland, threatening desertion in the rear, while the defenders of slavery were battling at the front. They argued, however, and not unnaturally, that prejudice can hold a long contest with principle, and that in the general uprising of the South the tendency of all their old allies would be to remain firm. They reckoned that States with few slaves would continue to stand for Southern institutions as stubbornly as States with many slaves. In all the States of the South emancipation had been made difficult, and free negroes were tolerated, if at all, with great reluctance and with constant protest.
The struggle for Kansas was therefore to be maintained and possession secured at all hazards. Although, as the Southern leaders realized, the free States had flanked them by the admission of California with an anti-slavery constitution, the Southern acquisition of Kansas would pierce the very centre of the army of freedom, and would enable the South thenceforth to dictate terms to the North. Instead of the line of 36° 30´, upon which they had so frequently offered to compromise, as a permanent continental division, they would have carried the northern boundary of slave territory to the 40th parallel of latitude and even beyond. They slave States in pursuing this policy were directed by men who had other designs than those which lay on the surface. Since the struggle of 1850 the dissolution of the Union had been in the minds of many Southern leaders, and, as the older class of statesmen passed away, this design grew and strengthened until it became a fixed policy. They felt that when the time came to strike, it was of the first importance that they should have support and popular strength beyond the Mississippi. California, they were confident, could be carried in their interest, if they could but plant supporting colonies between the Missouri and the Sierras. The Democratic party was dominant in the State, and the Democracy was of the type personated by William M. Gwin. Both her senators voted for the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, and stood by the extremists of the South as steadily as if California bordered on the Gulf of Mexico. Dissolution of the Union on the scale thus projected would, as the authors of the scheme persuaded themselves, be certain of success. From the Mississippi to the Missouri they would carry the new confederacy to the southern line of Iowa. From the Missouri to the line of Utah they would have the 40th degree of latitude; from Utah westward they would have the 42d parallel, leaving the line of Oregon as the southern boundary of the United States on the Pacific.
This policy was not absolute but alternative. If the slave-holders could maintain their supremacy in the Union, they would prefer to remain. If they were to be outvoted and, as they thought, outraged by free-State majorities, then they would break up the government and form a confederacy of their own. To make such a confederacy effective, they must not take from the Union a relatively small section, but must divide it from ocean to ocean. They could not acquire a majority of the total population, but they aimed to secure by far the larger share of the vast domain comprised in the United States. The design was audacious, but from the stand-point of the men who were committed to it, it was not illogical. Their entire industrial system was founded upon an institution which was bitterly opposed in the free States. They could see no way, and they no longer desired to see a way, by which they might rid themselves of the servile labor which was at once their strength and their weakness. To abandon the institution was to sacrifice four thousand millions of property specially protected by law. It was for the existing generation of the governing class in the South to vote themselves into bankruptcy and penury. Far beyond this, it was in their judgment to blight their land with ignorance and indolence, to be followed by crime and anarchy. Their point of view was so radically different from that held by a large number of Northern people that it left no common ground for action,—scarcely, indeed, an opportunity for reasoning together. In the South they saw and felt their danger, and they determined at all hazards to defend themselves against policies which involved the total destruction of their social and industrial fabric. They were not mere malcontents. They were not pretenders. They did not aim at small things. They had ability and they had courage. They had determined upon mastery within the Union, or a Continental Empire outside of it.
While the South had thus resolved to acquire control of the large Territory of Kansas, the North had equally resolved to save it to freedom. The strife that ensued upon the fertile plains beyond the Missouri might almost be regarded as the opening battle of the civil war. The proximity of a slave State gave to the South an obvious advantage at the beginning of the contest. Many of the Northern emigrants were from New England, and the distance they were compelled to travel exceeded two thousand miles. There were no railroads across Iowa, none across Missouri. But despite all impediments and all discouragements, the free-State emigrants, stimulated by anti-slavery societies organized for the purpose, far outnumbered those from the slave States. Had the vexed question in the Territory been left to actual settlers it would have been at once decided adversely to slavery. But the neighboring inhabitants of Missouri, as the first election approached, invaded the Territory in large numbers, and, with boisterous disturbance and threats of violence, seized the polls, fraudulently elected a pro-slavery Legislature, and chose one of their leaders named Whitfield as delegate to Congress. Over six thousand votes were polled, of which some eight hundred only were cast by actual settlers. There were about three thousand legal voters in the Territory. The total population was somewhat in excess of eight thousand, and there were between two and three hundred slaves. The governor of the Territory, Andrew H. Reeder, a Democrat from Pennsylvania, tried faithfully and earnestly to arrest the progress of fraud and violence; but he was removed by President Pierce, and Wilson Shannon of Ohio was sent out in his stead. The free-State settlers, defrauded at the regular election, organized an independent movement and chose Governor Reeder their delegate to Congress to contest the seat of Whitfield. These events, rapidly following each other, caused great indignation throughout the country, in the midst of which the Thirty-fourth Congress assembled in December, 1855. After a prolonged struggle, Nathaniel P. Banks was chosen Speaker over William Aiken. It was a significant circumstance, noted at the time, that the successful candidate came from Massachusetts, and the defeated one from South Carolina. It was a still more ominous fact that Banks was chosen by votes wholly from the free States, and that every vote from the slave States was given to Mr. Aiken, except that of Mr. Cullen of Delaware, and that of Henry Winter Davis of Maryland, who declined to vote for either candidate. It was the first instance in the history of the government in which a candidate for Speaker had been chosen without support from both sections. It was a distinctive victory of the free States over the consolidated power of the slave States. It marked an epoch.
The year 1856 opened with this critical, this unprecedented condition of affairs. In all classes there was deep excitement. With thoughtful men, both North and South, there was serious solicitude. The country approached the strife of another Presidential election with the consciences of men thoroughly aroused, with their passions profoundly stirred. Three parties were coming into the field, and it seemed impossible that any candidate could secure the approval of a majority of the voters in the Union. In the Democratic ranks there was angry contention. President Pierce, who had risked every thing for the South, and had received unmeasured obloquy in the North, was naturally anxious that his administration should be approved by his own party. With all the patronage at his command, he vigorously sought a renomination. But the party desired victory, and they feared a contest which involved an approval of the President's recreancy to solemn pledges voluntarily given. He had been inaugurated with the applause and confidence of a nation. He was sustained in the end by a helpless faction of a disorganized party.
The distinguished secretary of State suffered with the President. Mr. Marcy had personally disapproved the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, but he made no opposition, and the people held him equally if not doubly guilty. It was said at the time that New- York friends urged him to save his high reputation by resigning his seat in the cabinet. But he remained, in the delusive hope that he should receive credit for the evil he might prevent. He was pertinently reminded that the evil he might prevent would never be known, whereas the evil to which he consented would be read of all men. New York had hopelessly revolted from Democratic control, and Mr. Marcy's name was not presented as a Presidential candidate, though he was at that time the ablest statesman of the Democratic party. Mr. Douglas was also unavailable. He had gained great popularity in the South by his course in repealing the Missouri Compromise, but he had been visited with signal condemnation in the North. His own State, always Democratic, which had stood firmly for the party even in the overthrow of 1840, had now failed to sustain him,—had, indeed, pointedly rebuked him by choosing an opposition Legislature and sending Lyman Trumbull, then an anti- slavery Republican, as his colleague in the Senate. General Cass was seventy-four years old, and he was under the same condemnation with Pierce and Marcy and Douglas. He had voted to repeal the Missouri Compromise, and Michigan, which had never before faltered in his support, now turned against him and embittered his declining years by an expression of popular disapproval, which could not have been more emphatic.
The candidates urged for the nomination were all from the North. By a tacit but general understanding, the South repressed the ambition of its leaders and refused to present any one of the prominent statesmen from that section. Southern men designed to put the North to a test, and they wished to give Northern Democrats every possible advantage in waging a waging a warfare in which the fruits of victory were to be wholly enjoyed by the South. If they had wished it, they could have nominated a Southern candidate who was at that moment far stronger than any other man in the Democratic party. General Sam Houston had a personal history as romantic as that of an ancient crusader. He was a native of Virginia, a representative in Congress from Tennessee, and Governor of that State before he was thirty-five. He was the intimate and trusted friend of Jackson. Having resigned his governorship on account of domestic trouble, he fled from civilized life, joined the Indians of the Western plains, roved with them for years, adopted their habits, and was made chief of a tribe. Returning to association with white men, he emigrated to Texas and led the revolt against Mexico, fought battles and was victorious, organized a new republic and was made its President. Then he turned to his native land, bearing in his hand the gift of a great dominion. Once more under the Union flag, he sat in the Capitol as a senator of the United States from Texas. At threescore years he was still in the full vigor of life. Always a member of the Democratic party he was a devoted adherent of the Union, and his love for it had but increased in exile. He stood by Mr. Clay against the Southern Democrats in the angry contest of 1850, declaring that "if the Union must be dismembered" he "prayed God that its ruins might be the monument of his own grave." He "desired no epitaph to tell that he survived it." Against the madness of repealing the Missouri Compromise he entered a protest and a warning. He notified his Southern friends that the dissolution of the Union might be involved in the dangerous step. He alone, of the Southern Democrats in the Senate, voted against the mischievous measure. When three thousand clergymen of New England sent their remonstrance against the repeal, they were fiercely attacked and denounced by Douglas and by senators from the South. Houston vindicated their right to speak and did battle for them with a warmth and zeal which specially commended him to Northern sympathy. All these facts combined—his romantic history, his unflinching steadiness of purpose, his unswerving devotion to the Union—would have made him an irresistibly strong candidate had he been presented. But the very sources of his strength were the sources of his weakness. His nomination would have been a rebuke to every man who had voted for the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, and, rather than submit to that, the Southern Democrats, and Northern Democrats like Pierce and Douglas and Cass, would accept defeat. Victory with Houston would be their condemnation. But in rejecting him they lost in large degree the opportunity to recover the strength and popularity and power of the Democratic party which had all been forfeited by the maladministration of Pierce.
With Houston impracticable, other Southern candidates purposely withheld, and all the Northern candidates in Congress or of the administration disabled, the necessity of the situation pointed to one man. The Democratic managers in whose hands the power lay were not long in descrying him. Mr. Buchanan had gone to England as minister directly after the inauguration of Pierce. He had been absent from the country during all the troubles and the blunders of the Democracy, and never before was analibiso potential in acquitting a man of actual or imputed guilt. He had been a candidate for the Presidency ever since 1844, but had not shown much strength. He was originally a Federalist. He was somewhat cold in temperament and austere in manners, but of upright character and blameless life. He lacked the affability of Cass, the gracious heartiness of Pierce, the bluff cordiality of Douglas. But he was a man of ability, and had held high rank as a senator and as secretary of State. Above all he had never given a vote offensive to the South. Indeed, his Virginia friend, Henry A. Wise, boasted that his record was as spotless as that of Calhoun.
Buchanan's hour had come. He was a necessity to the South, a necessity to his party; and against the combined force of all the ambitious men who sought the place, he was nominated. But he had a severe struggle. President Pierce and Senator Douglas each made a persistent effort. On the first ballot Buchanan received 135 votes, Pierce 122, Douglas 33. Through sixteen ballots the contest was stubbornly maintained, Buchanan gaining steadily but slowly. Pierce was at last withdrawn, and the convention gave Buchanan 168, Douglas 121. No further resistance was made, and, amid acclamation and rejoicing, Buchanan was declared to be the unanimous choice of the convention. Major John C. Breckinridge of Kentucky, a young man of popularity and promise, was nominated for the Vice- Presidency.
Before the nomination of Buchanan and Breckinridge another Presidential ticket had been placed in the field. The pro-slavery section of the American party and the ghastly remnant of the Whigs had presented Mr. Fillmore for the Presidency, and had associated with him Andrew Jackson Donelson of Tennessee as candidate for the Vice-Presidency. On the engrossing question of the day Mr. Buchanan and Mr. Fillmore did not represent antagonistic ideas, and between them there could be no contest to arouse enthusiasm or even to enlist interest in the North. The movement for Fillmore afforded a convenient shelter for that large class of men who had not yet made up their minds as to the real issue of slavery extension or slavery prohibition.
The Republican party had meanwhile been organizing and consolidating. During the years 1854 and 1855 it had acquired control of the governments in a majority of the free States, and it promptly called a national convention to meet in Philadelphia in June, 1856. The Democracy saw at once that a new and dangerous opponent was in the field,—an opponent that stood upon principle and shunned expediency, that brought to its standard a great host of young men, and that won to its service a very large proportion of the talent, the courage, and the eloquence of the North. The convention met for a purpose and it spoke boldly. It accepted the issue as presented by the men of the South, and it offered no compromise. In its ranks were all shades of anti-slavery opinion,—the patient Abolitionist, the Free-Soiler of the Buffalo platform, the Democrats who had supported the Wilmot Proviso, the Whigs who had followed Seward.
There was no strife about candidates. Mr. Seward was the recognized head of the party, but he did not desire the nomination. He agreed with his faithful mentor, Thurlow Weed, that his time had not come, and that his sphere of duty was still in the Senate. Salmon P. Chase was Governor of Ohio, waiting re-election to the Senate, and, like Seward, not anxious for a nomination where election was regarded as improbable if not impossible. The more conservative and timid section of the party advocated the nomination of Judge McLean of the Supreme Court, who for many years had enjoyed a shadowy mention for the Presidency in Whig journals of a certain type. But Judge McLean was old and the Republican party was young. He belonged to the past, the party was looking to the future. It demanded a more energetic and attractive candidate, and John C. Frémont was chosen on the first ballot. He was forty-three years of age, with a creditable record in the Regular Army, and wide fame as a scientific explorer in the Western mountain ranges, then theterra incognitaof the continent. He was a native of South Carolina, and had married the brilliant and accomplished daughter of Colonel Benton. Always a member of the Democratic party, he was so closely identified with the early settlement of California that he was elected one of her first senators. To the tinge of romance in his history were added the attractions of a winning address and an auspicious name.
The movement in his behalf had been quietly and effectively organized for several months preceding the convention. It had been essentially aided if not indeed originated by the elder Francis P. Blair, who had the skill derived from long experience in political management. Mr. Blair was a devoted friend of Benton, had been intimate with Jackson, and intensely hostile to Calhoun. As editor of theGlobe, he had exercised wide influence during the Presidential terms of Jackson and Van Buren, but when Polk was inaugurated he was supplanted in administration confidence by Thomas Ritchie of the State-rights' school, who was brought from Virginia to found another paper. Mr. Blair was a firm Union man, and, though he had never formally withdrawn from the Democratic party, he was now ready to leave it because of the Disunion tendencies of its Southern leaders. He was a valuable friend to Frémont, and gave to him the full advantage of his experience and his sagacity.
William L. Dayton of New Jersey, who had served with distinction in the Senate, was selected for the Vice-Presidency. His principal competitor in the only ballot which was taken was Abraham Lincoln of Illinois. This was the first time that Mr. Lincoln was conspicuously named outside of his own State. He had been a member of the Thirtieth Congress, 1847-9, but being a modest man he had so little forced himself into notice that when his name was proposed for Vice-President, inquiries as to who he was were heard from all parts of the convention.
The principles enunciated by the Democratic and Republican parties on the slavery question formed the only subject for discussion during the canvass in the free States. From the beginning no doubt was expressed that Mr. Buchanan would find the South practically consolidated in his favor. Electoral tickets for Frémont were not presented in the slave States, and Fillmore's support in that section was weakened by his obvious inability to carry any of the free States. The canvass, therefore, rapidly narrowed to a contest between Buchanan and Frémont in the North. The Republican Convention had declared it to be "both the right and imperative duty of Congress to prohibit in the Territories those twin relics of barbarism,— polygamy and slavery." The Democratic Convention had presented a very elaborate and exhaustive series of resolutions touching the slavery question. They indorsed the repeal of the Missouri Compromise, and recognized the "right of the people of all the territories to form a constitution with or without domestic slavery." The resolution was artfully constructed. Read in one way it gave to the people of the Territories the right to determine the question for themselves. It thus upheld the doctrine of "popular sovereignty" which Mr. Douglas had announced as the very spirit of the Act organizing Kansas and Nebraska. A closer analysis of the Democratic declaration, however, showed that this "popular sovereignty" was not to be exercised until the people of the Territory were sufficiently numerous to form a State constitution and apply for admission to the Union, and that meanwhile in all the Territories the slave- holder had the right to settle and to be protected in the possession of his peculiar species of property. In fine, the Republicans declared in plain terms that slavery should by positive law of the nation be excluded from the Territories. The Democrats flatly opposed the doctrine of Congressional prohibition, but left a margin for doubt as to the true construction of the Constitution, and of the Act repealing the Missouri Compromise, thus enabling their partisans to present one issue in the North, and another in the South.
The Democratic candidate in his letter of acceptance did not seek to resolve the mystery of the platform, but left the question just as he found it in the resolutions of the convention. The result was that Northern people supported Mr. Buchanan in the belief, so energetically urged by Mr. Douglas, that the people of the Territories had the right to determine the slavery question for themselves at any time. The Southern people supported Mr. Buchanan in the full faith that slavery was to be protected in the Territories until a State government should be formed and admission to the Union secured. The Democratic doctrine of the North and the Democratic doctrine of the South were, therefore, in logic and in fact, irreconcilably hostile. By the one, slavery could never enter a Territory unless the inhabitants thereof desired and approved it. By the other slavery had a foot-hold in the Territories under the Constitution of the United States, and could not be dislodged or disturbed by the inhabitants of a Territory even though ninety-nine out of every hundred were opposed to it. In the Territorial Legislatures laws might be passed to protect slavery but not to exclude it. From such contradictory constructions in the same party, conflicts were certain to arise.
The Democrats of the North sought, not unsuccessfully, to avoid the slavery question altogether. They urged other considerations upon popular attention. Mr. Buchanan was presented as a National candidate, supported by troops of friends in every State of the Union. Frémont was denounced as a sectional candidate, whose election by Northern votes on an anti-slavery platform would dissolve the Union. This incessant cry exerted a wide influence in the North and was especially powerful in commercial circles. But in spite of it, Frémont gained rapidly in the free States. The condition of affairs in Kansas imparted to his supporters a desperate energy, based on principle and roused to anger. An elaborate and exciting speech on the "Crime against Kansas," by Senator Sumner, was followed by an assault from Preston S. Brooks, a member of the House from South Carolina, which seriously injured Mr. Sumner, and sensibly increased the exasperation of the North. When a resolution of the House to expel Brooks was under consideration, he boasted that "a blow struck by him then would be followed by a revolution." This but added fuel to a Northern flame already burning to white- heat. Votes by tens of thousands declared that they did not desire a Union which was held together by the forbearance or permission of any man or body of men, and they welcomed a test of any character that should determine the supremacy of the Constitution and the strength of the government.
The canvass grew in animation and earnestness to the end, the Republicans gaining strength before the people of the North every day. But Buchanan's election was not a surprise. Indeed, it had been generally expected. He received the electoral votes of every Southern State except Maryland, which pronounced for Fillmore. In the North, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Indiana, Illinois, and California voted for Buchanan. The other eleven free States, beginning with Maine and ending with Iowa, declared for Frémont. The popular vote was for Buchanan 1,838,169, Frémont 1,341,264, Fillmore 874,534. With the people, therefore, Mr. Buchanan was in a minority, the combined opposition outnumbering his vote by nearly four hundred thousand.
The Republicans, far from being discouraged, felt and acted as men who had won the battle. Indeed, the moral triumph was theirs, and they believed that the actual victory at the polls was only postponed. The Democrats were mortified and astounded by the large popular vote against them. The loss of New York and Ohio, the narrow escape from defeat in Pennsylvania, the rebuke of Michigan to their veteran leader General Cass, intensified by the choice of Chandler as his successor in the Senate, the absolute consolidation of New England against them, all tended to humiliate and discourage the party. They had lost ten States which General Pierce had carried in 1852, and they had a watchful, determined foe in the field, eager for another trial of strength. The issue was made, the lines of battles were drawn. Freedom or slavery in the Territories was to be fought to the end, without flinching, and without compromise.
Mr. Buchanan came to the Presidency under very different auspices from those which had attended the inauguration of President Pierce. The intervening four years had written important chapters in the history of the slavery contest. In 1853 there was no organized opposition that could command even a respectable minority in a single State. In 1857 a party distinctly and unequivocally pledged to resist the extension of slavery into free territory had control of eleven free States and was hotly contesting the possession of the others. The distinct and avowed marshalling of a solid North against a solid South had begun, and the result of the Presidential election of 1856 settled nothing except that a mightier struggle was in the future.
After Buchanan's inauguration events developed rapidly. The Democrats had carried the House, and therefore had control of every department of the government. The effort to force slavery upon Kansas was resumed with increased zeal. Strafford's policy of "thorough" was not more resolute or more absolute than that now adopted by the Southern leaders with a new lease of power confirmed to them by the result of the election. The Supreme Court came to their aid, and, not long after the new administration was installed, delivered their famous decision in the Dred Scott case. This case involved the freedom of a single family that had been held as slaves, but it gave occasion to the Court for an exhaustive treatment of the political question which was engrossing public attention. The conclusion of the best legal minds of the country was that the opinion of the Court went far beyond the real question at issue, and that many of its most important points were to be regarded asobiter dicta. The Court declared that the Act of Congress prohibiting slavery in the Territories north of 36° 30´ was unconstitutional and void. The repeal of the Missouri Compromise was therefore approved by the highest judicial tribunal. Not only was the repeal approved, its re-enactment was forbidden. No matter how large a majority might be returned to Congress in favor of again setting up the old landmark which had stood in peace and in honor for thirty-four years, with the sanction of all departments of the government, the Supreme Court had issued an edict that it could not be done. The Court had declared that slavery was as much entitled to protection on the national domain as any other species of property, and that it was unconstitutional for Congress to decree freedom for a Territory of the United States. The pro-slavery interest had apparently won a great triumph. They naturally claimed that the whole question was settled in their favor. But in fact the decision of the Court had only rendered the contest more intense and more bitter. It was received throughout the North with scorn and indignation. It entered at once into the political discussions of the people, and remained there until, with all other issues on the slavery question, it was remanded to the arbitrament of war.
Five of the judges—an absolute majority of the court—were Southern men, and had always been partisan Democrats of the State-rights' school. People at once remembered that every other class of lawyers in the South had for thirty years been rigidly excluded from the bench. John J. Crittenden had been nominated and rejected by a Democratic Senate. George E. Badger of North Carolina had shared the same fate. They were followers of Clay, and not to be trusted by the new South in any exigency where the interests of slavery and the perpetuity of the Union should come in conflict. Instead, therefore, of strengthening the Democratic party, the whole effect of the Dred Scott decision was to develop a more determined type of anti-slavery agitation. This tendency was promoted by the lucid and exhaustive opinion of Benjamin R. Curtis, one of the two dissenting judges. Judge Curtis was not a Republican. He had been a Whig of the most conservative type, appointed to the bench by President Fillmore through the influence of Mr. Webster and the advice of Rufus Choate. In legal learning, and in dignity and purity of character, he was unsurpassed. His opinion became, therefore, of inestimable value to the cause of freedom. It represented the well-settled conclusion of the most learned jurists, was in harmony with the enlightened conscience of the North, and gave a powerful rallying-cry to the opponents of slavery. It upheld with unanswerable arguments the absolute right of Congress to prohibit slavery in all the Territories of the Union. Every judge delivered his views separately, but the dissenting opinion of Judge McLean, as well as of the six who sustained the views of the Chief Justice, arrested but a small share of public attention. The argument for the South had been made by the venerable and learned Chief Justice. The argument for the North had been made by Justice Curtis. Perhaps in the whole history of judicial decisions no two opinions were ever so widely read by the mass of people outside the legal profession.
It was popularly believed that the whole case was made up in order to afford an opportunity for the political opinions delivered by the Court. This was an extreme view not justified by the facts. But in the judgment of many conservative men there was a delay in rendering the decision which had its origin in motives that should not have influenced a judicial tribunal. The purport and scope of the decision were undoubtedly known to President Pierce before the end of his term, and Mr. Buchanan imprudently announced in his Inaugural address that "the point of time when the people of a Territory can decide the question of slavery for themselves" will "be speedily and finally settled by the Supreme Court, before whom it is now pending." How Mr. Buchanan could know, or how he was entitled to know, that a question not directly or necessarily involved in a case pending before the Supreme Court "would be speedily and finally settled" became a subject of popular inquiry. Anti-slavery speakers and anti-slavery papers indulged in severe criticism both of Mr. Buchanan and the Court, declaring that the independence of the co-ordinate branches of the government was dangerously invaded when the Executive was privately advised of a judicial decision in advance of its delivery by the Court. William Pitt Fessenden, who always spoke with precision and never with passion, asserted in the Senate that the Court, after hearing the argument, had reserved its judgment until the Presidential election was decided. He avowed his belief that Mr. Buchanan would have been defeated if the decision had not been withheld, and that in the event of Frémont's election "we should never have heard of a doctrine so utterly at variance with all truth, so utterly destitute of all legal logic, so founded on error, and so unsupported by any thing resembling argument."
Mr. Lincoln, whose singular powers were beginning to be appreciated, severely attacked the decision in a public speech in Illinois, not merely for its doctrine, but for the mode in which the decision had been brought about, and the obvious political intent of the judges. He showed how the Kansas-Nebraska Act left the people of the Territories perfectly free to settle the slavery question for themselves, "subject only to the Constitution of the United States!" That qualification he said was "the exactly fitted niche for the Dred Scott decision to come in and declare the perfect freedom to be no freedom at all." He then gave a humorous illustration by asking in homely but telling phrase, "if we saw a lot of framed timbers gotten out at different times and places by different workmen,—Stephen and Franklin and Roger and James,—and if we saw these timbers joined together and exactly make the frame of a house, with tenons and mortises all fitting, what is the conclusion? We find it impossible not to believe that Stephen and Franklin and Roger and James all understood one another from the beginning, and all worked upon a common plan before the first blow was struck." This quaint mode of arraigning the two President, the Chief Justice and Senator Douglas, was extraordinarily effective with the masses. In a single paragraph, humorously expressed, he had framed an indictment against four men upon which he lived to secure a conviction before the jury of the American people.
The decision was rendered especially odious throughout the North by the use of certain unfortunate expressions which in the heat of the hour were somewhat distorted by the anti-slavery press, and made to appear unwarrantably offensive. But there was no misrepresentation and no misunderstanding of the essential position of the Court on the political question. It was unmistakably held that ownership in slaves was as much entitled to protection under the Constitution in the Territories of the United States as any other species of property, and that Congress possessed no power over the subject except the power to legislate in aid of slavery. The decision was at war with the practice and traditions of the government from its foundation, and set aside the matured convictions of two generations of conservative statesmen from the South as well as from the North. It proved injurious to the Court, which thenceforward was assailed most bitterly in the North and defended with intemperate zeal in the South. Personally upright and honorable as the judges were individually known to be, there was a conviction in the minds of a majority of Northern people, that on all issues affecting the institution of slavery they were unable to deliver a just judgment; that an Abolitionist was, in their sight, the chief of sinners, deserving to be suppressed by law; that the anti- slavery agitation was conducted, according to their belief, by two classes,—fanatics and knaves,—both of whom should be promptly dealt with; the fanatics in strait-jackets and the knaves at the cart's tail.
Chief Justice Taney, who delivered the opinion which proved so obnoxious throughout the North, was not only a man of great attainments, but was singularly pure and upright in his life and conversation. Had his personal character been less exalted, or his legal learning less eminent, there would have been less surprise and less indignation. But the same qualities which rendered his judgment of apparent value to the South, called out intense hostility in the North. The lapse of years, however, cools the passions and tempers the judgment. It has brought many anti-slavery men to see that an unmerited share of the obloquy properly attaching to the decision has been visited on the Chief Justice, and that it was unfair to place him under such condemnation, while two associate Justices in the North, Grier and Nelson, joined in the decision without incurring special censure, and lived in honor and veneration to the end of their judicial careers. While, therefore, time has in no degree abated Northern hostility to the Dred Scott decision, it has thrown a more generous light upon the character and action of the eminent Chief Justice who pronounced it. More allowance is made for the excitement and for what he believed to be the exigency of the hour, for the sentiments in which he had been educated, for the force of association, and for his genuine belief that he was doing a valuable work towards the preservation of the Union. His views were held by millions of people around him, and he was swept along by a current which with so many had proved irresistible. Coming to the Bench from Jackson's Cabinet, fresh from the angry controversies of that partisan era, he had proved a most acceptable and impartial judge, earning renown and escaping censure until he dealt directly with the question of slavery. Whatever harm he may have done in that decision was speedily overruled by war, and the country can now contemplate a venerable jurist, in robes that were never soiled by corruption, leading a long life of labor and sacrifice, and achieving a fame in his profession second only to that of Marshall.
The aversion with which the extreme anti-slavery men regarded Chief Justice Taney was strikingly exhibited during the session of Congress following his death. The customary mark of respect in providing a marble bust of the deceased to be placed in the Supreme Court room was ordered by the House without comment or objection. In the Senate the bill was regularly reported from the Judiciary Committee by the chairman, Mr. Trumbull of Illinois, who was at that time a recognized leader in the Republican party. The proposition to pay respect to the memory of the judge who had pronounced the Dred Scott decision was at once savagely attacked by Mr. Sumner. Mr. Trumbull in reply warmly defended the character of the Chief Justice, declaring that he "had added reputation to the Judiciary of the United States throughout the world, and that he was not to be hooted down by exclamations about an emancipated country. Suppose he did make a wrong decision. No man is infallible. He was a great, learned, able judge."
Mr. Sumner rejoined with much temper. He said that "Taney would be hooted down the pages of history, and that an emancipated country would fix upon his name the stigma it deserved. He had administered justice wickedly, had degraded the Judiciary, and had degraded the age." Mr. Wilson followed Mr. Sumner in a somewhat impassioned speech, denouncing the Dred Scott decision "as the greatest crime in the judicial annals of the Republic," and declaring it to be "the abhorrence, the scoff, the jeer, of the patriotic hearts of America." Mr. Reverdy Johnson answered Mr. Sumner with spirit, and pronounced an eloquent eulogium upon Judge Taney. He said, "the senator from Massachusetts will be happy if his name shall stand as high upon the historic page as that of the learned judge who is now no more." Mr. Johnson directed attention to the fact that, whether wrong or right, the Dred Scott decision was one in which a majority of the Supreme Court had concurred, and therefore no special odium should be attached to the name of the venerable Chief Justice. Mr. Johnson believed the decision to be right, and felt that his opinion on a question of law was at least entitled to as much respect as that of either of the senators from Massachusetts, "one of whom did not pretend to be a lawyer at all, while the other was a lawyer for only a few months." He proceeded to vindicate the historical accuracy of the Chief Justice, and answered Mr. Sumner with that amplitude and readiness which Mr. Johnson displayed in every discussion involving legal questions.
Mr. Sumner's protest was vigorously seconded by Mr. Hale of New Hampshire and Mr. Wade of Ohio. The former said that a monument to Taney "would give the lie to all that had been said by the friends of justice, liberty, and down-trodden humanity," respecting the iniquity of the Dred Scott decision. Mr. Wade violently opposed the proposition. He avowed his belief that the "Dred Scott case was got up to give judicial sanction to the enormous iniquity that prevailed in every branch of our government at that period." He declared that "the greater you make Judge Taney's legal acumen the more you dishonor his memory by showing that he sinned against light and knowledge." He insisted that the people of Ohio, whose opinion he professed to represent, "would pay two thousand dollars to hang the late Chief Justice in effigy rather than one thousand dollars for a bust to commemorate his merits."
Mr. McDougall of California spoke in favor of the bill, and commented on the rudeness of Mr. Sumner's speech. Mr. Carlile of West Virginia spoke very effectively in praise of the Chief Justice. If the decision was harsh, he said, no one was justified in attributing it to the personal feelings or desires of the Chief Justice. It was the law he was expounding, and he did it ably and conscientiously. Mr. Sumner concluded the debate by a reply to Reverdy Johnson. He said that, in listening to the senator from Maryland, he was "reminded of a character, known to the Roman Church, who always figures at the canonization of a saint as theDevil's advocate." He added that, if he could help it, "Taney should never be recognized as a saint by any vote of Congress." The incidents of the debate and the names of the participants are given as affording a good illustration of the tone and temper of the times. It was made evident that the opponents of the bill, under Mr. Sumner's lead, would not permit it to come to a vote. It was therefore abandoned on the 23d of February, 1865.
Nine years after these proceedings, in January, 1874, the name of another Chief Justice, who had died during the recess, came before Congress for honor and commemoration. The Senate was still controlled by a large Republican majority, though many changes had taken place. All the senators who had spoken in the previous debate were gone, except Mr. Sumner, who had meanwhile been chosen for his fourth term, and Mr. Wilson, who had been elevated to the Vice-Presidency. Mr. Howe of Wisconsin, a more radical Republican than Mr. Trumbull, reported from the Judiciary Committee a bill originally proposed by Senator Stevenson of Kentucky, paying the same tribute of respect to Roger Brooke Taney and Salmon Portland Chase. The bill was passed without debate and with the unanimous consent of the Senate.
Mr. Taney was appointed Chief Justice in 1836, when in his sixtieth year. He presided over the court until his death in October, 1864, a period of twenty-eight years. The Dred Scott decision received no respect after Mr. Lincoln became President, and, without reversal by the court, was utterly disregarded. When Mr. Chase became Chief Justice, colored persons were admitted to practice in the courts of the United States. When President Lincoln, in 1861, authorized the denial of the writ ofhabeas corpusto persons arrested on a charge of treason, Chief Justice Taney delivered an opinion in the case of John Merryman, denying the President's power to suspend the writ, declaring that Congress only was competent to do it. The Executive Department paid no attention to the decision, and Congress, at the ensuing session, added its sanction to the suspension. The Chief Justice, though loyal to the Union, was not in sympathy with the policy or the measures of Mr. Lincoln's administration.
Review (continued).—Continuance of the Struggle for Kansas.— List of Governors.—Robert J. Walker appointed Governor by President Buchanan.—His Failure.—The Lecompton Constitution fraudulently adopted.—Its Character.—Is transmitted to Congress by President Buchanan.—He recommends the Admission of Kansas under its Provisions. —Pronounces Kansas a Slave State.—Gives Full Scope and Effect to the Dred Scott Decision.—Senator Douglas refuses to sustain the Lecompton Iniquity.—His Political Embarrassment.—Breaks with the Administration.—Value of his Influence against Slavery in Kansas. —Lecompton Bill passes the Senate.—Could not be forced through the House.—The English Bill substituted and passed.—Kansas spurns the Bribe.—Douglas regains his Popularity with Northern Democrats. —Illinois Republicans bitterly hostile to him.—Abraham Lincoln nominated to contest the Re-election of Douglas to the Senate.— Lincoln challenges Douglas to a Public Discussion.—Character of Each as a Debater.—They meet Seven Times in Debate.—Douglas re- elected.—Southern Senators arraign Douglas.—His Defiant Answer. —Danger of Sectional Division in the Democratic Party.