Could Millard Fillmore Have Made Henry Clay President in 1844?

In Henry Clay: The Essential American, David S. Heidler and Jeanne T. Heidler make a claim I had never seen before: Millard Fillmore was Henry Clay's choice for his vice presidential running mate in 1844:

Clay was prudent in refraining from publicly endorsing anyone in particular [as his vice presidential running mate in 1844], but in private he obliquely inclined toward Millard Fillmore. Others agreed that the New York could best mollify abolitionists and Antimasons and, if Clay died, would not be obnoxious like [John] Tyler. “I think Mr. Fillmore deserves the high estimate in which he was held by the Whigs of the last Congress,” Clay said. “I think him able, faithful, and with uncommon business habits.” It was the closest he came to supporting anyone.

All of which got to me to thinking . . . what if the Whigs had nominated Millard for the vice presidency in 1844 instead of Theodore Frelinghuysen of New Jersey? Could Millard have put Clay over the top and won him the presidency over James K. Polk?

I'm going to have to think about this one, but the idea strikes me as plausible. Clay lost the vote in the Electoral College by sixty-five votes, 170 to 105. New York had 36 electoral votes. If Clay had retained all of the votes he won (including the seven votes of New Jersey), plus New York, he would have prevailed 141 to 134.

Could Millard have turned the tide in New York? Well, the vote there was extremely close. Clay lost by roughly 5,000 out of 486,000 cast. The results were as follows:

Polk (Democrat) 237,588

Clay (Whig) 232,482

Birney (Liberty) 15,812

Could Millard have eliminated that margin? Maybe, just maybe. Apart from the fact that Millard would have been a native son, his nomination might have suppressed the Democratic vote, particularly among the Irish in New York City. Frelinghuysen was tarred as an anti-immigrant, anti-Catholic moralist, a label that Fillmore might well have avoided. Second, Millard might have induced some James G. Birney voters to switch columns. Finally, Millard began his political career as an Anti-Mason. His presence on the ballot might have persuaded additional anti-masons or former anti-masons, who were wary of Clay (who was a Mason) to make their way to the polls.

Winfield Scott Sits Down to a Hasty Plate of Soup

If you do a search for Winfield Scott at the Library of Congress site, you will come across a number of illustrations alluding to Scott’s consuming “a hasty plate of soup.” In his biography of James K. Polk, Robert W. Merry provides the amusing background.

President James K. Polk learned about the outbreak of hostilities with Mexico on Saturday May 9, 1846. On Wednesday May 13, Polk and Secretary of War William Marcy met with Scott, the army’s general in chief, and offered him “the position of commander of U.S. troops in the field.” Scott, delighted, accepted on the spot.

Then the problems began. Polk and Marcy expected, perhaps unfairly, that Scott would depart for Mexico almost immediately. Scott apparently saw himself as wearing two hats – head of the army and field commander – and planned to defer his departure for a number of months while he attended to numerous administrative tasks in Washington.

Marcy expressed the president’s displeasure to Scott on May 20. Scott responded to Marcy with a pompous letter in which “he catalogued the arduous labors attending his effort to get the front.” Merry quotes the following paragraphs, “dripping with self-pity” (and, I might add, bloated rhetoric):

In the midst of these multitudinous and indispensable occupations, I have learned from you that much impatience is already felt, perhaps in high quarters, that I have not already put myself in route for the Rio Grande; and now, with fourteen hours a day of preliminary work remaining on my hands for many days, I find myself compelled to stop the necessary work to guard myself against, perhaps, utter condemnation in the quarters alluded to. . . .

Not an advantageous step can be taken in a forward march without the confidence that all is well behind. . . . I am, therefore, not a little alarmed, nay, crippled in my energies, by the knowledge of the impatience in question. . . . My explicit meaning is, that I do not desire to place myself in the most perilous of all positions – a fire upon my rear from Washington, and the fire in front from the Mexicans.

When Polk read Scott’s letter, “he instantly concluded that the general lacked the requisite stability and sense for field command.” At about the same time, word arrived of Zachary Taylor’s initial victories at Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma. After several cabinet meetings to consider a response, Marcy was authorized to send a reply on May 25. “[A] masterpiece of pained condescension,” Marcy’s letter expressed shock that Scott could think that the president, who had just appointed him to a position of the greatest trust, was "firing upon his rear." The letter concluded by relaying the decision that Scott would remain in Washington and not command the troops in the field.

Now Scott plated his soup.

Scott responded almost immediately with a letter of his own, even more unfortunate than his first. Incredibly, he contended that his earlier reference to “high quarters” did not impugn the president, because Scott meant to accuse Marcy himself. In Merry’s words,

Having found himself in a hole, Scott dug furiously. . . . Scott responded with a combination of defensiveness and sycophancy. Seeking with great orotundity to explain his previous expressions and ingratiate himself with his superior, he urged reconsideration of the president’s decision . . ..

But what really grabbed the attention of the press and the public was the very first line of Scott's letter to Marcy, which seemed to capture perfectly Scott’s bloated sense of self-importance, pomposity and self-pity:

Sir: Your letter of this date, received about 6, p.m., as I sat down to a hasty plate of soup, demands a prompt reply.

Scott’s misguided effort to change the president's decision was in vain, at least for the time being:

Marcy sent back a terse reply saying Polk wasn’t inclined to reverse his previous judgment. Polk already had sent to Congress a message nominating General Taylor for promotion to the brevet rank of major general. Taylor would be the president’s man at the battlefront.

It's interesting that the Mexican War era illustrations that refer to the line gently tweak Scott but are largely benign. In the wake of military success, the illustrators seem to have cast Scott as something of an quirky eccentric, rather than a buffoon. But the line haunted Scott for the rest of his public career. The plate of soup returned in a substantially darker form when Scott ran for president as the Whig nominee in 1852.

About the illustration at the top of the post, entitled Distinguished military operations with a hasty bowl of soup:

The satire apparently perceives President Polk's reinstatement of Winfield Scott over Zachary Taylor as commander of U.S. forces in the Mexican War in November 1846 as an attempt to squelch the extreme personal popularity won by Taylor through dazzling early victories at Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, and Monterey. Scott (center) is shown emptying a large tureen of soup onto Taylor, saying "Take that! you're my subordinate!" The "hasty bowl of soup" was a recurring jibe which haunted Scott throughout the rest of his public career. (See also "Battle of Cerro Gordo" and "Battle of Churubusco," nos. 1847-2 and 1847-3.) It originated in Scott's opening comment in a May 25, 1846, letter to Secretary of War William L. Marcy protesting his removal as commander, "Your letter of this date, received at about 6 p.m., as I sat down to take a hasty plate of soup . . ." Here Scott is urged on by Polk (right), who says, "That's right Scott, we must Smother him [i.e., Taylor]!" Scott asks Taylor, "Where were you when I was ordering my hasty plate of Soup?" Taylor, in his customary wide-brimmed hat and simple civilian coat, is in marked contrast to the elegantly uniformed Scott. As a troop of soldiers at attention looks on, Taylor bears the indignity, responding, "Please your Excellency and Commander in Chief I was at the Pallo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, & Monterey." One of the soldiers adds, punning on Taylor'a name, "Aye Aye, the People will put him right, although he's a Taylor he "leads" to danger and dont "follow" suit." Although unsigned the print is quite close in drawing, if not in political bias, to Edward Williams Clay's pro-Scott "Santa Anna Declining a Hasty Plate of Soup at Cerro Gordo" (no. 1847-4). The similarity between the portraits of Scott in the two prints is especially convincing evidence of Clay's authorship.

About the second image, entitled Battle of Cerro Gordo:

An attack on James K. Polk's attempts to undermine Winfield Scott's military efforts and reputation through his handling of the Mexican War in April 1847. Shortly after Scott's victory at Cerro Gordo, Polk dispatched State Department official Nicholas Trist to Mexico to negotiate peace with the Mexican government. The artist views the move, as did many contemporaries, as motivated by political concerns about the Whig general's presidential ambitions. Scott, on a large hill at right, offers a steaming plate of soup to departing Mexican commander Santa Anna, who rides away on horseback. (For the soup allusion see "Distinguished Military Operations," no. 1846-15). From a ravine behind Scott, Polk goads Trist as he aims a water hose at the general. The hose is fueled by a pump operated by two boys in the background. In the distance American troops engage the Mexicans on the hills near Cerro Gordo. In the upper left appears the dialogue: Scott: "General Santa Anna!! do stop and take 'a hasty plate of soup?'" Santa Anna: "I thank you, Sir, your soup's too hot-I must be off!" Polk: "Trist, take care & cool 'old Hasty's' soup, before "our friend" meets him again." Trist: "Your Excellency will pardon me, but I've tried in vain to cool 'Old Hasty's' soup." Polk: "Then put out 'Old Hasty's' fire, or "that fatal soup will burn our fingers yet!" Trist: "Your excellency would do well to send 'Old Hasty' home and give "our friend" 'Pillow' for his Comfort." The last reference was to Gen. Gideon J. Pillow, an incompetent but a favorite of Polk, whose antagonism toward Scott was public knowledge, particularly after Cerro Gordo.

About the third illustration, entitled A Piercing Piece of Loco Foco Hocus Pocus:

The title plays on Franklin Pierce's last name, at the expense of Whig presidential hopefuls Millard Fillmore, Winfield Scott, and Daniel Webster. The print was probably published shortly after the June 1852 Whig national convention, judging from the reference to Scott's nomination. The artist is critical of the Whig party's preference for military heroes as candidates, as manifested by their selection of Scott over his civilian rivals. In the center is Scott, flanked by Fillmore and Webster, balancing an empty plate of oyster soup on his head. He stands on the wooden floor of the "Whig Platform [of] Soup Fuss And Feathers." Scott's excessive concern with image and decorum earned him the nickname "Old Fuss and Feathers;" for Scott's early offhanded reference to a "hasty plate of soup," which clung to him throughout his public life, see "Distinguished Military Operations . . ." (no. 1846-15). He holds out empty oyster shells to the two disappointed candidates, saying: "My dear fellows you neither of you got the oyster because you couldn't agree and you have never smelt powder.--The whig party is essentually chivalric, and they must have a military man at their head, and, of course, chose me--To be sure Harrison was a granny, and so was Taylor, but I am a Granny dear [i.e., grenadier]! I present you each a shell as as a proof of my regard!--But hulloh! where's the oyster? Was it a vision!" Pierce stands at the far left, on the raised "Democratic Platform [of] The Constitution And The Union," displaying the meat of an oyster labeled "President U. S. A." He addresses Scott: "You will have to go without your soup this time General I've go the Oyster by sleight of hand, and a good fat one it is, a real old Blue pointer. I shall pickle it and keep it for four years!" Fillmore (left) exclaims, "A shell without a fish! how selfish! what a scaly trick." Webster, standing alone at far right, offers a melancholy soliloquy: "Farewell! a long farewell to all my greatness! This is the state of man.---To-day he puts forth the tender leaves of hope, tomorrow blossoms and bears his blushing honors thick upon him--The next day comes a frost a killing frost, and when he thinks, good easy man, full surely his greatness is ripening, nips his root & then he falls as I do!"

About the fourth illustration, entitled Managing a Candidate:

A caustic portrayal of the abolitionist Whigs' manipulation of Winfield Scott during the 1852 campaign. Influential Whigs (left to right) New York "Times" editor Henry J. Raymond, "Tribune" editor Horace Greeley, and New York senator William Seward escort Scott across Salt River via the "Baltimore Bridge." The bridge is composed of eight planks, representing the eight parts of the Whig platform as adopted at their June national convention in Baltimore. With Seward on his shoulders, Scott steps carefully across the bridge, carefully avoiding stepping on plank number eight, which reads "The series of acts of the Thirty-first Congress, commonly known as the compromise or adjustment, (the act of the recovery of fugitive from labor included) are received and acquiesced in by the Whigs of the United States, as a final settlement in principel and substance of the subjects to which they relate." The plank was an endorsement of the Compromise of 1850. Seward, who opposed the compromise, covers Scott's mouth with his hand, saying, "General, I have been trying to get safely over this Stream for some time, and your Shoulders, are broad enough to bear me; never mind your tongue or your pen I'll manage them, but look well to your footsteps as this particular spot, it takes a pretty long Stride but stretch your legs, as I do my Con-science,--and you can get over anything." Greeley, another vociferous abolitionist, follows behind carrying a tureen of "Free Soil Soup" and Scott's heavily plumed hat. He adds, "That's the talk Bill! you take care of his mouth, and his fingers, & Ill look out for the, feathers, and soup, perhaps you had better Stop and let him have a 'hasty plate' of it, as I have seasoned it highly with "black" pepper, to suit our taste, & we can give him a mouthful of Graham bread when he gets through." The "hasty plate of soup" was a lingering joke at Scott's expense dating from the general's Mexican War career. (See "Distinguished Military Operations," no. 1846-15.) "Black" pepper is a racist allusion, while "graham bread" was actually a well-known dietary preference of Greeley's. Raymond trails behind Greeley, carrying a copy of the New York "Times" and a document marked "Telegraphic Dispatches." He marvels, "Well I declare! Seward will get the old joker across after all; since he had that severe attack of the Botts, I thought he would never go over Safe." Virginia Whig John Minor Botts caused a stir at the convention by reading a letter from Scott wherein, for the first time, he endorsed the compromise.

David Wilmot Confers With President Polk

James K. Polk's diary entry for Wednesday December 23, 1846 describes a curious conversation that the president held with David Wilmot.

Four months earlier, as the Congressional session was expiring, Wilmot had lobbed his incendiary Proviso into the debate over the Mexican War. Now, shortly after the beginning of the new term, Wilmot made an appointment to see the president, arriving "[a]fter night" on December 23rd. By coincidence, Charles J. Ingersoll, another Democratic member of the House from Pennsylvania, showed up unannounced shortly after Wilmot did, apparently cramping the conversation somewhat. Nonetheless, the president was able to "hold hold a conversation with him [Wilmot] on the subject of slavery restriction, which had been attached upon his motion at the last Session of Congress to the Bill which proposed to appropriate two millions of Dollars, with a view to enable the Executive to make a Treaty with Mexico."

The strange part is that Wilmot had apparently scheduled the meeting to tell the president that he would not re-introduce his Proviso in the current session:

He expressed an entire willingness to vote for the appropriation without the restriction, and said he would not again move the restriction, but that if it was moved by others he would feel constrained to vote for it.

Polk attempted to reassure Wilmot that he was making the right decision. The Mexican War was not some conspiracy to extend slavery to New Mexico and California. Echoing arguments made by others, the president contended that it would be virtually impossible for slavery to take root in those places. At all events, the Proviso represented an improper attempt to restrict the Executive's power to negotiate a treaty, and as a practical matter would make any peace treaty with Mexico unratifiable by the Senate:

I told him I did not desire to extend slavery, that I would be satisfied to acquire by Treaty from Mexico the Provinces of New Mexico & the Californias, and that in these Provinces slavery could probably never exist, and the great probability was that the question would never arise in the future organization of territorial or State Governments in these territories. I told him that slavery was purely a domestic question, and to restrict the appropriation which had been asked for, so as to require the President to insert it in a Treaty with a Foreign Power, was not only inappropriate and out of place, but that if such a Treaty were made it must be opposed by every Senator from a slave-holding State, and as one third of the Senators could reject a Treaty it could not be ratified, though it might be satisfactory in all other respects. I told him that tramelled with such a restriction I could not use the appropriation at all and would not do so.

Wilmot then reiterated that he would be willing to vote for the so-called $2 Million Bill without any restriction attached. If others renewed the Proviso, he was in favor of non-binding sense-of-Congress language:

He said he would be satisfied with a simple legislative declaration in the Bill of the sense of Congress, without requiring it to be inserted in the Treaty, or, if it was not moved by others, he would be willing to vote for the appropriation without such a restriction in any form.

Ingersoll's presence then aborted the conversation, and Wilmot departed.

I, at least, was surprised to read of Wilmot's expressed flexibility. He had introduced his Proviso less than four months earlier with an intensity of expression that suggested no ground for compromise. To the best of my knowledge, his public pronouncements thereafter demonstrated an unrelenting resolve to bar slavery from previously free territory.

Did Wilmot have a temporary pang of regret that he he had inadvertently caused an earthquake? Was he cynically seeking to demonstrate party loyalty or obtain Polk's favor for a pet cause? Or was the performance nothing but a charade, since he knew that in all probability one or more of his co-conspirators would re-introduce the Proviso, making his pledge irrelevant? (In fact, Preston King gave notice that he would re-introduce the Proviso less than a week later, on December 29, 1846.) And if so, why? Your informed speculation is welcome.

James Buchanan Declines the Supreme Court: Was Polk Suprised?

In my recent post discussing President James K. Polk's offer to nominate James Buchanan to the Supreme Court in 1846, I inferred that Polk was not surprised when Buchanan declined the offer on Saturday August 1, 1846. I have located Polk's diary entry describing his meeting with Buchanan that day, and he certainly does not sound surprised. Apparently confirming this, Polk had already done his homework on an alternate nominee, and was prepared to nominate Robert C. Grier:

Mr. Buchanan called about 6 O'Clock P. M. [on August 1, 1846] and informed me that he had decided to remain in the Cabinet and not to accept the offer which I had made him to appoint him Judge of the Supreme Court. He said that he did this cheerfully, although he had long desired a seat on the bench, and that now he would stick to me & go through my administration with me. I then told him that I would nominate Judge Greer [sic] of Pittsburg to the vacant seat on the bench on monday next [i.e., Monday August 3, 1846]. He replied that he would be entirely satisfied with Judge Greer's [sic] appointment.

I can almost hear Polk groaning when he listens to Buchanan announcing "that now he would stick to me & go through my administration with me."

The illustration is courtesy of Pop Art Machine.

"Make the Treaty, Sir!"

On December 4, 1847, Nicholas Trist was in Mexico City, consumed with indecision. Two weeks earlier he had received dispatches from Secretary of State James Buchanan canceling his diplomatic mission to Mexico and directing his return to Washington as soon as practicable. And yet Trist believed that, for the first time, a treaty was within reach. Santa Anna and the hard-line "Puros" had been ousted from power and moderates more inclined to accept reality and conclude an acceptable agreement with the United States had taken control. If the opportunity was missed, Trist feared, “events very likely could” (in the words of Robert W. Merry) “spin out of control to the severe detriment of both countries.” What should he do?

As Merry describes it, Trist reached his dramatic decision to defy President Polk and continue negotiations as a result of a meeting with James Freaner, a correspondent for the New Orleans Delta. Trist explained his dilemma to Freaner. The conclusion of the talk would seem to come straight out of a 1940s Hollywood melodrama:

Freaner practically leaped from his chair.

“Mr. Trist, make the Treaty,” he intoned. “Make the Treaty, Sir! It is now in your power to do your country a greater service than any living man can render her. . . . You are bound to do it. Instructions or no instructions, you are bound to do it. Your country, Sir, is entitled to this service from you. Do it, Sir!”

This burst of enthusiasm demolished Trist's indecision on the spot. “I will make the Treaty,” he replied with equal fervor.

Associate Justice James Buchanan?

Did you know that James Buchanan almost became an Associate Justice of the United States Supreme Court in 1846? I didn’t either. Robert W. Merry tells the unlikely tale in his interesting and enjoyable biography of James K. Polk, A Country of Vast Designs.

The story begins two years earlier, with the death of Associate Justice Henry Baldwin in April 1844. Wikipedia reports that President John Tyler made two nominations before he left office in March 1845, both of whom were rejected.

In December 1845, president James K. Polk nominated George Washington Woodward to the vacant seat. Polk considered Woodward, a Pennsylvanian then serving as a Pennsylvania state court judge, as a “sound, original, & consistent democrat, of the strict construction school.” Baldwin had been from Pennsylvania, and I assume the Polk selected Woodward to preserve the seat for the politically important Keystone State. (Both of President Tyler’s rejected nominees had also been from Pennsylvania, making pretty clear that both parties regarded the position as reserved for that state.) Perhaps finding a worthy member of the Pennsylvania bar also accounts for Polk's delay.

James Buchanan – another Pennsylvanian – was serving at the time as Secretary of State. Polk’s leading cabinet officer was also the most annoying. Buchanan, with his eye constantly on future advancement, provided advice that shifted constantly with the political winds. On Oregon, for example, he was initially dovish, urging the president not to risk war with Great Britain. When he perceived, however, that Lewis Cass of Michigan was riding a groundswell of popularity by urging an aggressive stance, Buchanan performed a dramatic about-face and attempted to erase evidence of his earlier position.

The politically sensitive Buchanan vehemently objected to Woodward’s nomination, and late on Christmas evening, 1845, Buchanan went to the White House to complain to the president. In faction-riven Pennsylvania, the Democratic faction led by Buchanan and Simon Cameron considered Woodward an enemy. “The secretary complained bitterly that Polk had not alerted him in advance and accused Polk of undermining his political standing in Pennsylvania with numerous adverse patronage decisions,” a charge Polk vehemently denied.

Supreme Court nominations were acted on far more quickly in those days. Within a month, on January 22, 1846, the Senate voted on Woodward’s nomination – and rejected him by a tally of 20-29. Circumstantial evidence suggested that Buchanan and his crony Simon Cameron were largely responsible for the administration’s embarrassment:

The entire Whig caucus had voted against [Woodward], along with six Democrats – Cameron, [Thomas Hart] Benton [of Missouri], Ambrose Sevier and Chester Ashley of Arkansas, and David Yulee and James Westcott of Florida. Polk knew Cameron, Sevier, and Westcott were intimate friends of Buchanan, presumably susceptible to entreaties from the secretary to support the president. Clearly, Buchanan had not supported the administration in its hour of need.

In fact, it was worse than that. It appeared that Buchanan had been angling for the Supreme Court position himself and had engineered Woodward’s defeat in order to position himself as the next nominee:

Worse, Polk heard that Buchanan had expressed hopes of getting the job even before the Woodward vote. “The information given me . . .,” wrote Polk to his diary, “left the painful impression that Mr. Buchanan has been willing to see . . . Mr. Woodward rejected by the Senate in order to obtain the office himself.” Later that evening the president received visits from Vice President [George M.] Dallas, Senator Daniel Dickinson of New York, and [William] Allen of Ohio. They were indignant. The six errant Democrats had ignored all arguments in favor of the highly qualified Woodward, they reported, and voted simply for political effect. Cameron was the apparent ringleader, they said, and immediately after the vote rumors began floating across the Senate floor that Buchanan would be the next nominee. Sure enough, Polk shortly received a letter from Benton recommending Buchanan for the job.

Privately, Polk was irate, but he did not confront or take action against Buchanan – part of a strange pattern in which the president seemed reluctant to take on his disloyal cabinet member.

Things took a strange turn five months later. Although Polk had vowed that Buchanan would never get the judicial position he apparently wanted, on June 10, 1846, Polk offered his secretary of state the vacancy. Polk never explained why, and his motives must therefore remain a mystery. Perhaps he viewed it as a graceful way of booting the every-annoying Buchanan out of the cabinet. Even if Old Buck declined the offer, perhaps he would display a little more loyalty to his chief. Placating the irascible and unpredictable Benton was crucial to Polk, and perhaps that also played a role.

At all events, Buchanan appeared delighted by Polk's offer, and on June 28 he reported that he would accept the nomination.

After that, strange became bizarre. First, Polk and Buchanan disagreed as to the timing of the announcement of the nomination. On July 1, Polk told Buchanan that he would send the nomination to the Senate shortly before Congress was scheduled to adjourn (roughly the beginning of August, one month hence). Polk apparently wanted the Senate first to focus on and deal with pressing policy matters. He may also have felt that an early nomination would only give Buchanan’s enemies time to rally their forces.

Buchanan, in turn, pushed for an immediate nomination, suggesting that intervening international events might preclude his departure from State.

Apparently sensing that Buchanan’s mind was not entirely made up, on July 12 Polk tried to force the issue by seeking Buchanan’s approval to send a letter to U.S. ambassador Louis McLane in London with an offer to become Buchanan’s successor. Buchanan suggested that Polk refrain from sending the letter, since he (Buchanan) might change his mind.

Finally, on or about August 1, Buchanan “stunned Polk with the news” that he would decline the Supreme Court offer and remain in the cabinet. Since timing was no longer an issue (Congress was scheduled to adjourn in a week), Buchanan’s motivation is unclear. Merry suggests that Buchanan may have been concerned that he might face considerable opposition that might damage his political reputation. It may also be that he simply concluded that remaining at State provided the most likely path to the presidency.

Although Merry characterizes Polk as “stunned” by Buchanan’s decision, I suspect he fully expected it, because he seems to have been prepared with another candidate. It appears that Polk immediately nominated yet another Pennsylvanian – a relatively obscure state trial court judge by the name of Robert C. Grier. Grier was unanimously approved by the Senate on August 4, 1846 – only three days after Buchanan had turned down the job.

Both the unanimous vote and subsequent events suggest that Grier was acceptable to Buchanan, and at least that Buchanan did not regard him as a political enemy, as he had Woodward. Alert readers may note that, in the run-up to the Supreme Court’s issuance of its decision in the Dred Scott case in March 1857, Buchanan did not hesitate to write to Grier to urge him to join the southern majority on the Missouri Compromise issue. Grier, in turn, promptly responded to Buchanan that he was prepared to rule in a manner that would accommodate the wishes of the president-elect.

As long-time readers know, I like a good what-if, and this suggests a really good one. Buchanan may have imagined that a Supreme Court justiceship might have served as a stepping-stone to the presidency, but that was unprecedented. If Buchanan had been on the Court in 1856 and unavailable, for all practical purposes, as a potential nominee, who might the Democrats have nominated in his stead? As I recall, the Democrats selected Buchanan that year because he was about the only person of any stature they could find who had not taken a stand on Stephen A. Douglas’s Kansas-Nebraska Act. (The fact that he was from the crucial state of Pennsylvania was also a big plus.) Who else would have satisfied that criterion? And if the Democrats had selected a more divisive candidate (Douglas, for example), might Republican John C. Fremont have been elected? And then what? Civil War in 1857?

Gideon J. Pillow: The Prequel

When I think of Gideon Johnson Pillow, the first image that comes to mind is that of the inept and cowardly bungler who wasted an opportunity to extricate his troops from Fort Donelson in February 1862, then fled in the middle of the night, abandoning them to their fate. Somewhat earlier, during the Mexican War, he had played an unsavory role in an attempt to discredit General Winfield Scott (referenced in the illustration below). It is interesting, therefore, to run across an event that shows Pillow in a more flattering light.

That episode was the Democratic presidential nominating convention of 1844. By way of brief background, Whig William Henry Harrison had defeated Democrat Martin Van Buren of New York in the 1840 election. Nonetheless, Van Buren remained the favorite to recapture the Democratic nomination in 1844. Despite misgivings among some southerners about Van Buren's commitment to slavery, and general nervousness about Van Buren's association with the Panic of 1837, the former president went into the convention with a majority of delegates committed to him.

Then, shortly before the convention, Van Buren made what proved to be a dramatic misstep. On April 27, 1844, the chief Democratic organ, Francis Preston Blair's Washington Globe published Van Buren's letter setting forth his position on the Texas annexation issue that exploded on the country when outgoing president John Tyler sent a proposed treaty to the Senate for ratification on April 22. In lawyerly and obscure prose full of caveats and hedges, Van Buren came out against annexation. In doing so he defied the wishes of his political ally and mentor Andrew Jackson and a groundswell of support for annexation among southern Democrats in particular.

James Knox Polk had been a firm supporter of Van Buren's renomination. Even after Van Buren's letter on annexation was published, Van Buren remained committed to the Little Magician, if only because Polk disliked Van Buren's principal competition, Lewis Cass of Michigan. In the run-up to the election, Polk positioned himself as a possible vice presidential running mate for Van Buren. However, it also belatedly occurred to Polk and his advisors – including former president Andrew Jackson – that Polk might somehow emerge as a contender for the presidential nomination if the convention deadlocked.

The Democratic convention was scheduled to open in Baltimore on Monday May 27, 1844. Polk would remain at his Tennessee plantation while the convention took place. Given the slowness of communications, Polk would be unable to influence events himself at the convention – he could not even know what was occurring on the first day until after the convention had adjourned. As a result, it was imperative that he have a skilled political operative present to manage his twin campaigns.

Enter Gideon J. Pillow. Pillow, then 37 years of age, was “one of Tennessee's most brilliant legal practitioners” who had earned Polk's lifelong gratitude and trust by saving Polk's brother from a long prison term in what seemed to be an open-and-shut case. He had enhanced his social and political prestige by becoming adjutant general in the Tennessee militia. Polk designated Pillow as his point person at the convention. As Polk explained to one of his lieutenants, Cave Johnson, before the convention:

“You will find Pillow . . . a most efficient and energetic man.” . . . “Whatever is desired to be done, communicate to Genl. Pillow. He is one of the shrewdest men you ever knew, and can execute whatever is resolved on with as much success as any man who will be at Baltimore. . . . He is perfectly reliable, is a warm friend of V.B.'s [Martin Van Buren], and is my friend, and you can do so with entire safety."

In his book, A Country of Vast Designs: James K. Polk, The Mexican War and the Conquest of the American Continent (from which this account is derived), Robert W. Merry describes Pillow's assignment as follows:

Gideon Pillow would be Polk's pivot man in Baltimore, the Tennessee delegate who would assess the scene, size up the players, identify the opportunities, and execute the plans that emerged from the chaos. . . [Other Polk associates] would be on the scene as well, gathering intelligence and helping in the effort. But Pillow would be the field commander.

The task that Pillow was assigned to carry out was not an easy one. On the one hand, he had to position Polk and the Tennessee delegation as loyal to Van Buren, but without alienating other factions, to maximize Polk's chances for the vice-presidential nomination. On the other hand, he had to develop and implement a strategy to bring Polk forward as a possible compromise candidate for the presidency itself – something that had never been done before at that point – again, without raising the ire of other party leaders and their factions.

In fact, Pillow accomplished these goals with great skill. As the convention moved toward deadlock between Van Buren and Cass, Pillow kept the fractious Tennessee delegates solidly in line behind Van Buren At the same time, Pillow carefully buttonholed key leaders to suggest Polk as the solution. Working primarily through Massachusetts delegate George Bancroft and New Hampshire delegates Henry Carroll (editor of the Concord New Hampshire Patriot and State Gazette) and governor Henry Hubbard, Pillow suggested that any movement toward Polk had to be initiated by northern delegates. If a Polk boomlet appeared in the north, then, Pillow indicated, he would see to it that southern delegations joined it.

Pillow put his plan into motion after the seventh ballot. On the eighth ballot, New Hampshire announced its six votes for Polk, and shortly thereafter Massachusetts added seven more. Tennessee declared that it had not come to the convention to press the nomination of its favorite son, but now that it appeared that he had the enthusiastic support of other states it would cast its votes for him as well. By the end of the roll call, Polk had forty-four votes.

And that was enough. The next ballot, the ninth, was also the last. Virginia, which had loyally adhered to Van Buren through eight ballots, announced that it was switching its votes to Polk. Van Buren's lieutenant, Benjamin Franklin Butler of New York (no, not that Benjamin Franklin Butler), then withdrew Van Buren's name from nomination and announced that he would vote for Polk, who fully met, he said, “the Jeffersonian standard of qualification.”

When all but one of New York's thirty-six delegates also went for Polk, the rush was on. One after another, delegation leaders rose to cast full delegation support to James K. Polk, often adding warm praise for the man or directing piquant invective at Henry Clay [the Whig nominee]. By the time it was over, around two o'clock in the afternoon [on Friday May 31, 1844], every delegate had cast his vote for James Polk, and the Tennessean was declared the unanimous choice of the Democratic convention.

About the illustration:

American general Gideon J. Pillow's self-promoting attempts to discredit Mexican War commander Gen. Winfield Scott are ridiculed in this portrayal of Scott puncturing "Polk's Patent" pillow. Pillow's efforts were widely viewed as part of a campaign by the Polk administration to damage Scott's growing prestige at home. An anonymous letter--actually written by Pillow--published in the "New Orleans Delta" on September 10, 1847, and signed "Leonidas," wrongfully credited Pillow for recent American victories at Churubusco and Contreras. The battles were actually won by Scott. When Pillow's intrigue was exposed, he was arrested by Scott and held for a court-martial. Polk, defensive of Pillow, recalled Scott to Washington. During the trial that ensued, "Delta" correspondent James L. Freaner testified in Scott's favor. At Pillow's behest Maj. Archibald W. Burns, a paymaster, claimed authorship of the "Leonidas" letter. Currier's cartoon was probably published during or shortly after Pillow's trial, which began in March 1848. With the sword of "Truth," Scott (right) punctures a pillow held by Burns (left) and which is being inflated by Pillow (kneeling, center). Scott holds Freaner's testimony in his hand and treads on the Leonidas letter. He exclaims at the air released, "Heavens what a smell!" At left, behind Burns is a strong box on which rests a sack of coins, marked "From Genl. Pillow for fathering the Leonidas Letter."

"I protest against such a Union as that!"

In his speech of January 4, 1848, South Carolina Senator John C. Calhoun raised a number of arguments against continuation of the war against Mexico. The cost of subduing remaining resistance and occupying the country would be tremendous: Calhoun estimated that it would be $60 million, causing potentially catastrophic damage to the economy.

Calhoun also argued, as he had before (although I did not highlight the point), “that the more successfully this war is prosecuted the more certain will be the defeat of the object designed to be accomplished, whilst the objects disavowed will be accomplished.” This was because the destruction of all government in Mexico would make peace impossible: there would be no one left with whom to negotiate. Mexico, a fellow republic, would have been destroyed, leaving a military despotism by the United States in its place.

[Adopting the Polk administration’s proposed course] will lead to the blotting out of the nationality of Mexico, and the throwing of eight or nine millions of people without a government, on your hands. It will compel you, in all probability, to assume that government, for I think there will be very little prospect of your retiring. You must either hold the country as a province, or incorporate it into your Union. Shall we do either? That’s the question. Far from us be such an act, and for the reasons contained in the resolutions.

Calhoun’s proposed resolutions provided, first, that “to conquer Mexico and to hold it, either as a province or to incorporate it into the Union, would be inconsistent with the avowed object for which the war has been prosecuted.” Calhoun had already discussed this point at length. He turned therefore to the second proposition, that that conquest would be “a departure from the settled policy of the Government.” Calhoun contrasted the administration’s proposed course with the “settled policy” adopted concerning the Indians:

The next reason which my resolutions assign, is, that it is without example or precedent, either to hold Mexico as a province, or to incorporate her into our Union. No example of such a line of policy can be found. We have conquered many of the neighboring tribes of Indians, but we never thought of holding them in subjection – never of incorporating them into our Union. They have either been left as an independent people amongst us, or been driven into the forests.

This, in turn, served as an opening for Calhoun to address the issue that, I suspect, was at the heart of his objection to a wider Mexican war from the beginning: race. Calhoun feared that the incorporation of settled portions of Mexico would result in non-white Indians and “mixed tribes” becoming residents and citizens of the United States. “Ours,” Calhoun maintained, “is the government of a white race.” “[P]lacing these colored races on an equality with the white race” would be “fatal to our institutions”:

I know further, sir, that we have never dreamt of incorporating into our Union any but the Caucasian race – the free white race. To incorporate Mexico, would be the very first instance of the kind of incorporating an Indian race; for more than half of the Mexicans are Indians, and the other is composed chiefly of mixed tribes.

I protest against such a Union as that! Ours, sir, is the Government of a white race. The greatest misfortunes of Spanish America are to be traced to the fatal error of placing these colored races on an equality with the white race. That error destroyed the social arrangement which formed the basis of society. The Portuguese and ourselves have escaped – the Portuguese at least to some extent – and we are the only people on this continent which have made revolutions without being followed by anarchy. And yet it is professed and talked about to erect these Mexicans into a Territorial Government, and place them on an equality with the people of the United States. I protest utterly against such a project.

Sir, it is a remarkable fact, that in the whole history of man, as far as my knowledge extends, there is no instance whatever of any civilized colored races being found equal to the establishment of free popular government, although by far the largest portion of the human family is composed of these races. . . . Are we to overlook this fact? Are we to associate with ourselves as equals, companions, and fellow-citizens, the Indians and mixed race of Mexico? Sir, I should consider such a thing as fatal to our institutions.

"Polk confused Mexico's warlike acts with a legal state of war"

Pardon a brief interruption of the generally chronological narrative concerning John C. Calhoun, Texas and Mexico, but I would like to go back and supplement an earlier post on the subject.

You may recall that in May 1846 the Polk administration did not exactly seek a declaration of war from Congress. Instead it in effect asked Congress to confirm that war already existed. One of Calhoun’s stated objections to the resolution was that it failed to distinguish between the fact of “hostilities” and the legal conclusion that a state of war existed.

In his The Constitution in Congress: Descent into the Maelstrom 1829-1861, the late David P. Currie discusses Calhoun’s objection and finds it well taken:

Opponents correctly complained that Polk was not asking Congress to decide whether the United States should go to war, as was its right; he was asking for a mere confirmation of the fact that war already existed. . . . As Calhoun and others protested, Polk confused Mexico’s warlike acts with a legal state of war, which could not exist without congressional sanction. . . . At the end of the day, however, the distinction evaporated. Congress voted to declare the existence of war, and that was all the Constitution required.

About the illustration:

A satirical view of the scramble among newly elected President James K. Polk's 1844 campaign supporters, or "patriots," for "their beans," i.e., patronage and other official favors. Polk (upper right) sits in the Presidential Chair, his hands folded and apparently oblivious to the activity around him. From behind the chair Andrew Jackson prompts him, "That's right Jemmy, Non Committal. By the Eternal you're a chip of the old block." To Polk's right a group of homely women present a petition and ask, "Can't you do something for us? we are poor weak women in great danger of being seduced! We want a proclamation in behalf of our Moral Reform Society." Below him John Beauchamp Jones and Francis Preston Blair, editors of influential rival newspapers, the "Madisonian" and the "Globe," fight for the privilege of being the administration organ. In the center an Irishman, hat in hand, approaches Polk and asks, "Plaze yer honor's worship, can't ye do somethin' for me? I was bor-r-n in Boston and rared in New-Yor-r-k, be the howly St. Patrick, and nivver a bit of an office have I had yet." Nearby, a German or Dutchman walks away in disgust shouting, "Dod rot this administration! I've lost my sittivation that Tyler give me, that was worth $15 a year! Dod rot 'em, I say!" In the foreground Secretary of State James Buchanan asks a small, ragged figure, "What Office do you expect, my man?" The man, a Rhode Islander, responds, " . . . I was an Officer with Govr. Dorr, and I should like to be an Officer agin; but I ain't perticklar, if you haint got no office may be you've got some old Clothes to give me!" Dorr was the leader of an abortive revolution in Rhode Island in 1842. (See Trouble in the Spartan Ranks, no. 1843-6). At left South Carolinian John C. Calhoun, a frustrated aspirant for the 1844 Democratic nomination, rides off on a velocipede saying, "Let this Poke manage two stools if he can, I'll cut my stick, and be off for the sunny south." Above, in the background, members of the "Empire Club" wave their hats and fire a cannon. They may represent the expansionist platform on which Polk campaigned, which many Whigs feared would provoke war with Mexico. In the left foreground is a motley militia troop carrying a banner "For Oregon!! Liberty! or Death!!!" Their leader proclaims, "Follow me brave soldiers, strike but one blow, and Oregon is ours!" Polk's campaign platform favored reannexation of the Oregon Territory.

John Calhoun on the War Against Mexico: "It is monstrous"

Having devoted several posts to John C. Calhoun’s Pakenham Letter, I’d like to turn to an event in Calhoun’s career several years later. It’s one that I’ve always found somewhat odd and jarring in light of Calhoun’s earlier advocacy of Texas annexation.

On Monday May 11, 1846, President James K. Polk delivered to Congress a Message concerning relations with Mexico. To make a long story short, Polk reported that the Mexican government had in March refused to receive John Slidell, whom Polk had sent there (so Polk asserted) to seek peace. Then, on April 24, 1846, Mexican troops had attacked American troops on the north side of the Rio Grande, resulting in “some sixteen” American casualties, and others “appear to have been surrounded and captured.”

“[W]ar exists,” the president asserted. And with “[w]ar actually existing,” he called on Congress “to recognize the existence of the war, and to place at the disposition of the Executive the means of prosecuting the war with vigor, and thus hastening the restoration of peace.”

What I find both jarring and fascinating is that John Calhoun opposed Polk’s rush to war. At the very outset of the debate in the Senate, he resisted a call to print 20,000 copies of the president’s message and accompanying documents because they would be distributed as pro-war propaganda and implied endorsement of a decision that had not yet been reached. Calhoun emphasized the moral and constitutional gravity of the issue that the Senate was being asked to consider:

Mr. CALHOUN . . . The question now submitted to us is one of the gravest character, and the importance of the consequences which may result from it we cannot now determine. I do hope that this body will give to it that high, full, and dispassionate consideration which is worthy the character of the body and the high constitutional functions which it is called on to exercise. I trust that we will weigh everything calmly and deliberately, and do all that the Constitution, interests, and honor of the country may require. . . .

A little later that day, Calhoun fleshed out his position somewhat more fully. He objected to the president’s suggestions that “war” already existed. Armed conflict, or invasion, may or may not exist. But under the Constitution “war” can exist only when the Congress so declares.

Mr. CALHOUN. . . . [T]he President has announced that there is war; but according to my interpretation, there is no war according to the sense of our Constitution. I distinguish between hostilities and war, and God forbid that, acting under the Constitution, we should ever confound one with the other. There may be invasion without war, and the President is authorized to repel invasion without war. But it is our sacred duty to make war, and it is for us to determine whether war shall be declared or not. If we have declared war, a state of war exists, and not till then.

It was in this aspect of the question that I regarded it as one of great magnitude, and deprecated any precipitate action on the part of the Senate. There is a certain forbearance, dignity, and calmness, which will make war not the less effective if it should be our fate to be involved in war.

The last few sentences of Calhoun’s short statement are remarkable for their expression of patriotism. Notice the reference to the country as a whole as “my country”:

I hope that I shall never indicate, on my part, the earnestness with which I go into any measure by a precipitate course of action. I am prepared to do all that the Constitution, and patriotism, and the honor of my country, may require. But I wish time to consider on all points, and desire that our whole action may be marked by dignity.

Notwithstanding Calhoun’s position, within twenty four hours the Senate was finalizing a bill authorizing the raising of troops and supplies. Most troubling in Calhoun’s view, as he expressed it on May 12, 1846, was the fact that the bill recognized war as already existing. The proposed legislation was entitled “An act providing for the prosecution of the existing war . . .” and the introduction to the act repeated that characterization:

Whereas, by the act of the Republic of Mexico, a state of war exists between that Government and the United States:

Be it enacted . . ., That, for the purpose of enabling the Government of the United States to prosecute said war to a speedy and successful termination . . ..

Calhoun rose to repeat his objections. Whether it acknowledged it or not, the Congress was declaring war (the Globe reporter reports this and Calhoun’s later statements in the third person, past tense [e.g., “Mr. Calhoun said that . . .”]; I have transposed these to the first person present in the hope that you will read them aloud):

Mr. CALHOUN . . . I hope, at least, one day will be allowed to those who are to vote upon this bill, as an opportunity to consult the documents which have been submitted to the Senate by the Executive, as containing the ground on which the bill is to pass. It is a bill amounting to a declaration of war. I have no objection whatever to voting the amount of supplies contained in the bill, or even a greater amount; but I am at present unprepared to vote anything which amounts to a declaration of war. The question is one of great magnitude, and gentlemen who entertain doubts respecting the facts on which the bill is founded, or in regard to the necessity or propriety of a declaration of war, should certainly have some short time allowed them for reflection. . .

Other senators complained that the troops needed immediate help. Calhoun’s request would result in fatal delay. What game was he really playing? In response, Calhoun denied the charge. The troops could be supplied and reinforced immediately; it was only the preamble to which he objected. And he had no covert agenda; he was simply not prepared to vote on the gravest constitutional responsibility he held as a senator:

Mr. CALHOUN . . . I seek no delay, and resort to no indirect course to conceal my true intent. . . . [W]hy can you not accommodate gentlemen who have honest doubts as to the state of facts, by consenting to strike out the preamble of the bill, and to suffer the question of supplies to be separated from the question of a declaration of war? Is not such a course reasonable? Is it not fair and just? Gentlemen stated to the Senate that the information received from the frontier was such as to require instant action; if so, they can have instant action. If any delay occurs, the delay is their own. I will create none.

I am prepared to vote the supplies on the spot, and without an hour’s delay; but it is just as impossible for me to vote for that preamble as it is for me to plunge a dagger into my own heart, and more so. I cannot; I am not prepared to affirm that war exists between the United States and Mexico, and that it exists by the act of that Government. How can I affirm this, when I have no evidence on which to affirm it? How do I know that the Government of Mexico will not disavow what had been done? Am I to be called upon to give a vote like this? It is impossible for me to utter it, consistently with that sacred regard for truth in which I have had been educated.

The Senate, Calhoun charged, was proposing to “make war on the Constitution.” It was “monstrous”:

I have no difficulty as to my course. My mind is made up; it is made up unalterably; I can neither vote affirmatively nor negatively. I have no certain evidence to go on. Whether any one will go with me in this course I do not know; I have made no inquiries, and I do not know that a single friend will be found at my side. As to what might be said of such a course, and all that is called popularity, I do not care the snap of my finger. If I cannot stand and brave so small a danger, I should be but little worthy of what small amount of reputation I may have earned.

I cannot agree to make war on Mexico by making war on the Constitution; and the Senate will make war on the Constitution by declaring war to exist between the two Governments when no war has been declared, and nothing has occurred but a slight military conflict between a portion of two armies. Yet I am asked to affirm, in the very face of the Constitution, that a local rencontre, not authorized by the act of either Government, constituted a state of war between the Government of Mexico and the Government of the United States – to say that, by a certain military movement of General [Zachary] Taylor and General [Mariano] Arista, every citizen of the United States is made the enemy of every man in Mexico.

It is monstrous. It strips Congress of the power of making war; and what is more and worse, it gives that power to every officer, nay, to every subaltern commanding a corporal’s guard. Do you gentlemen call on me to do this? Do you expect that I would vote for a position so monstrous? If you force the question upon me, I will take my own course. If you want unanimity, you can have it; but if you choose to proceed on your own petty party views, be it so.

Later that day, Calhoun made his final protest. Substantively, it added little, but I invite you to picture the Cast Iron Man standing in the Senate and making this plea:

Why, in the name of all that is reasonable, would you rush at once to the ultimate resort? Suppose this turns out to be a case in which war ought to be declared, after examination of all the documents: let the declaration be made in due form and with becoming dignity – not in this side-way, as if you were afraid to do it. Show a front to the world, such as becomes the character of the nation.

In the present condition of the world, war is a tremendous thing. The whole sentiment of the civilized world is turning stronger and stronger against war. Let us not, for the honor of our country – for the dignity of the Republic – be the first to create a state of war. Mortal man cannot see the end of it. When I look on and see that we are rushing upon the most tremendous event, I am amazed. I am more than amazed; I am in a state of wonder and deep alarm. This is not the tone of character to go into war. They who go into war in this manner – as if seeking a divisive course – cannot expect to succeed. It is a hasty, thoughtless course.

I do not wish to use any words in an offensive sense -- but with all possible emphasis, I exhort you to avoid even the appearance of precipitancy, or want of that deep reflection and profound meditation which alone can guide you to a successful issue.

Shortly before 6:00 p.m. on Tuesday May 12, 1846, the bill passed the Senate by a vote of 40-2, the only two dissenters being Senators Thomas Clayton (Whig, Delaware) and John Davis (Whig, Massachusetts). Two the votes recorded in favor of the bill were partial or conditional. “When Mr. [John J.] CRITTENDEN’S [Whig, Kentucky] name was called, he voted ‘ay, except the preamble.’ So also did Mr. [William] UPHAM [Whig, Vermont].”

“Senators [John M.] BERRIEN [Whig, Georgia], CALHOUN, and [George] EVANS [Whig, Maine], being in their seats, did not vote.”

Favorite Presidents

In honor of Presidents' Day, National Review has solicited fourteen commentators to identify their favorite presidents and briefly explain their choices.

What is interesting is the variety of opinions. The usual suspects -- George Washington and Abraham Lincoln -- appear: Lincoln gets 2 1/2 votes and Washington gets 1 1/2. As you might expect, Ronald Reagan gets a vote, and William Henry Harrison gets two tongue-in-cheek nods (for dying before he could do any harm). But serious arguments are made in favor of no fewer than seven other candidates: Chester Alan Arthur, Grover Cleveland, Calvin Coolidge, Warren G. Harding, James K. Polk, Teddy Roosevelt and . . . wait for it . . . none other than Millard Fillmore!

The Democracy and Free Soil

Some of my recent reading has caused me to wonder about an issue I hadn’t thought much about: why was it that a number of otherwise orthodox northern Democrats – Andrew Jackson loving, hard-money, anti-Bank Democrats – came to embrace the concept of Free Soil? By all accounts, David Wilmot was such a man. The fact that he was such a loyal Democrat was probably why the Speaker of the House felt safe in giving him the floor on that fateful evening in August 1846. What on Earth had motivated his apostasy? And why, a year later, did the Radical Democrats of New York – the Barnburners – embrace him as a kindred spirit?

The usual suspects seemed to include Martin Van Buren and James K. Polk. In 1844 Southern Democrats had denied Van Buren renomination in favor of Polk by invoking the two-thirds rule. After his election, President Polk had snubbed Van Buren by failing to accept Van Buren’s recommendations for cabinet appointments and patronage. Most glaringly, Polk wound up nominating conservative Democrat and Van Buren rival William Marcy as Secretary of War.

And yet . . . I was getting the sense that the Van Buren angle was not holding together. Nobody was pointing to hard evidence demonstrating that Wilmot was a Van Buren disciple. Polk had been the beneficiary of Van Buren’s convention defeat, but he was not involved in the conspiracy. Van Buren knew this, and in fact got on well with Polk. Likewise, Van Buren almost certainly understood that Polk was not snubbing him intentionally. Finally, whatever Van Buren’s private views, his public embrace of Free Soil came late in 1848. Men such as Wilmot would have had no way of knowing in August 1846 or October 1847 that Van Buren would join their ranks.

Another cause of friction I had seen mentioned was Oregon. Polk had taken office promising to acquire (or re-acquire) Oregon as well as Texas. He had made his peace with England, however, to concentrate on Mexico. Some northern Democrats were reportedly upset that Polk had “sacrificed” Oregon. But could that issue alone have precipitated a rebellion by a substantial number of otherwise loyal and orthodox Democrats? That seemed unlikely.

About the illustration:

Here [the illustrator, Edward Williams] Clay is critical of James K. Polk's public advocacy of the 54.40 parallel as the northern boundary of American territory in Oregon. The cartoon also alludes to widespread uncertainty as to the course the secretive Polk would actually pursue on the issue. The artist invokes the specter of an earlier Democratic president, Andrew Jackson, as the inspiration for what he considers Polk's rash and autocratic handling of the dispute. Standing at the foot of Polk's bed in a cloud of smoke is a devil, who, concealing himself behind the mask and hat of Andrew Jackson, commands the sleeping Polk, "Child of my adoption, on whom my mantle hath fallen, swear never to take your toe off that line should you deluge your country with seas of blood, produce a servile insurrection and dislocate every joint of this happy and prosperous union!!!" Polk, slumbering in a large canopied bed, has one toe on the 54.40 line of a map of Oregon which lies on floor. Also next to bed is a potted "Poke" weed (a pun on his name) and a table with his readings: "Art of War, Calvin's Works, Practical Piety," and "Life of Napoleon." Polk answers the devil, "I do my venerated and lamented chieftain! I do, by the eternal!" (The vow "By the eternal" was a well-known Jacksonism.) At left, dressed in nightshirts, three cabinet members steal into the room. They are (left to right) George Bancroft, James Buchanan, and Robert J. Walker. Treasury Secretary Walker carries a "Tariff" document, no doubt the controversial and recently introduced tariff bill of which he was generally considered the architect, and comments, "It seems to me there's the devil to pay with the president; yet behold his great toe, greater than any Pope's fixed firmly on the line 54.40. Patriotic even in dreams!" Behind Walker Secretary of State Buchanan, holding a candle and a portfolio marked "Packenham Correspondence," says, "There's certainly a strong smell of brimstone in the room! Perhaps his excellency has been practising pyrotechnics previous to commencing his campaign." The "Packenham Correspondence" refers to Buchanan's July 1845 note to British ambassador Richard Pakenham, wherein the forty-ninth parallel was proposed as a compromise. Pakenham's response, a rejection, touched off Polk's pursuit (at least temporarily) of a more hard-line stance, claiming the 54.40 boundary. "I guess there's a screw loose here! I wonder what Polk's going to do!" muses Navy Secretary Bancroft.

Barnburners and Hunkers: Texas Intrudes

After 1842, tensions deepened between the Radicals and the Conservatives in New York. The substantive disputes between them, however, remained focused on the Erie Canal and economic issues. National issues and politics did not seriously intrude on the intra-party feud. The Democrats' rejection of Martin Van Buren in favor of James K. Polk in 1844 was not perceived as favoring one side or the other -- the participants were not even sure where Van Buren stood. Likewise, in assembling his cabinet, Polk had offended Van Buren by declining to accept his cabinet recommendations and instead nominating Conservative William L. Marcy as Secretary of War, but there was no immediately apparent connection to the intra-party feuding.

In fact, Texas and slavery extension seem to have come in as issues in the dispute through the back door. In January 1846, at the beginning of the 1846 New York legislative session, a Hunker state senator "offered a set of resolutions approving all the policies of the National Administration, including the annexation of Texas." His motivation for doing was apparently not substantive. "His object . . . was believed to be strengthen the hands of the Hunkers in Washington by making Marcy and [Hunker U.S. Senator Daniel S.] Dickinson . . . the peculiar friends of the president."

A Radical Senator "promptly moved amendatory resolutions omitting all references to Texas." The ensuing debate was "warm" but had nothing to do with Texas or slavery extension. The Senators instead engaged in name-calling about "the loyalty and justification of the public course of the leading men of the two factions."

Quoting an earlier observer, Herbert D.A. Donovan suggests that the event demonstrates fundamental substantive differences over slavery extension between the factions:

"The debate," says Alexander, "indicated that the Free-Soil sentiment had not only taken root among the Radicals, but that rivalries between the two factions rested on differences of principle far deeper than canal improvement."

But the facts that Donovan relates do not necessarily support this conclusion. The Radical who moved to strike the pro-Texas resolution may well have disliked the idea of slavery extension or resented the Slave Power, but he seems to have seized on the issue primarily in order to embarrass and discredit the Conservatives with the president. The two factions then fought over the issue, just as they fought over a number of other auxiliary issues, in order to gain tactical advantage and to deny victory to their adversaries.

Nonetheless, the Texas issue -- and by extension the spread of slavery -- had been raised.

About the illustration, which dates to an earlier period (1838, when William H. Seward and the Whigs swept the Democrats out of power in New York):

A satiric commentary on the effects of the landslide Whig victory in New York state elections in the autumn of 1838. President Van Buren (left) greets two of his defeated allies: incumbent governor William L. Marcy (center, in uniform) and Representative Churchill C. Cambreleng. Both men had the support of New York radical Democrats, or "Loco Focos." Van Buren: "Welcome old friends to me yet dear, Pray what the devil brings you here?" Marcy: "I have had leave to resign, and wish to be taken care of. If you had nothing better, I'll take the Office of Collector!" Cambreleng (wiping his eyes): "I am defeated in spite of the lamentations of the people!" Servant at the door, in a Dutch accent: "Vot rum-looking Coveys these is. I vonder Master admits them!" A portrait of Van Buren supporter Francis Preston Blair hangs on the wall of the room.

Maybe We Should Give Them Back the Southwest

U.S. military report warns 'sudden collapse' of Mexico is possible.

About the illustration:

An indignant James K. Polk takes issue with Massachusetts senator Daniel Webster's public attacks on his Texas policy. In 1844 Webster had been opposed to the annexation of Texas and in 1846 he criticized attacked the war with Mexico over Texas as highly unjustifiable. Webster's first public speech on the war was made in late June, and the print probably did not appear before that. In the center, Polk (left) confronts Webster, warning, "If you say the Mexican War is a War of my own makeing you tell a falshood!" Raising his fists, Webster retorts, "I did say it & say it again!" To the left of Polk stand Thomas Ritchie and James Watson Webb, newspaper editors supporting the administration. Webb holds a bottle of "Tom and Jerry" and a sponge, commenting, "Principles, not men!" The Whig editor had opposed the annexation of Texas, but once hostilities commenced he urged military action to bring about a speedy termination. Webb's insistence on "principles" reflects his uneasiness in an alliance with a Democratic administration which stood to gain politically from the conflict. Ritchie reassures Polk, "In Union [a double entendre referring to his newspaper the "Washington Union&1] there is strength, Nous Verrons!" To the right of Webster stand an unidentified man (probably another journalist) and Horace Greeley, editor of the New York "Tribune. "Greeley, who was severely critical of Polk's policies, holds a bottle of "Lemon Soda" and (like Webb) a sponge, and remarks, "I wish Dan had eaten more Graham bread he's too fat for Polk!" (Graham bread was a well-known Greeley dietary preference.) The unidentified man remarks, "A Daniel come to blows, if not Judgment." The sponges and bottles are apparently intended for the relief of the fighters, much as the port and the "Old Monongohala Whiskey" figured in Anthony Imbert's "Set to between Old Hickory and Bully Nick"(no. 1834-4), on which "The Issue Joined"seems to be based. The precise significance of the "Tom & Jerry" and "Lemon Soda" is unclear. "The Issue Joined"is executed in a style similar to that of Edward Williams Clay. The faces of the characters may in fact be attributable to Clay, but the drawing of the figures and costumes are not up to that artist's standard.