Alexander Stephens Predicts Civil War, July 3, 1850

I suspect that many or most who deplore the Compromise of 1850 assume that it wasn't necessary - the South would have rolled over anyway. It's impossible, of course, to prove (or disprove) the consequences of contingent scenarios that never came to be. But the angry words of Alexander H. Stephens certainly suggest that, had the compromise failed, and had shooting broken out between Texas and the United States over the Texas-New Mexico border in late 1850 or 1851, the Civil War would likely have started out ten years early.

After the Compromise was brokered, Stephens became its champion. He helped lead the campaign in support of the Compromise in his native Georgia, decisively rallying public opinion behind the Compromise and away from secession in late 1850 and 1851.

But at the beginning of July 1950, Stephens was both angry and frantic. Having heard that President Zachary Taylor supported the immediate admission of New Mexico as a state, Stephens then received news that the president and his cabinet "had supported using the army if necessary to oppose Texas forces in New Mexico." On July 3, 1850, Stephens, already "smoldering", read an editorial in the National Intelligencer that appeared to confirm the report: the Whiggish newspaper urged that "If Texas advanced on Santa Fe . . . it would be the 'duty' of the army to defend it."

Stephens promptly sat down and wrote to the paper a reply (published by the Intelligencer on July 4)that both expressed his fear that this course would lead to general civil war and made clear that even moderates like Stephens would regard war as justified. Thomas E. Schott summarizes Stephens's letter in Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia: A Biography (from which the other quotes in this post are likewise taken):

Convinced beyond doubt that Taylor would use force to carry out his policy, Stephens sat down at his desk in the House and wrote a blistering reply to the editors. "The first Federal gun that shall be fired against the people of Texas, without the authority of law, will be the signal for the freemen from Delaware to to the Rio Grande to rally to the rescue." Whatever doubts there might be about the Texas boundary, "nothing can be clearer than that it is not a question to be decided by the army." In case of conflict, the Texas cause would be the cause of the entire south.

Here's a thought exercise. Imagine you're a northern politician in mid-1850. You detest the Slave Power, slavery and the proposed Fugitive Slave Act in particular. Do you hold your nose and support the proposed compromise because you fear civil war? Or, if you decide to oppose the compromise, do you do so because (a) you're confident the South will cave, or (b) war or no war, it's about time someone stood up to these people?

About the illustration, entitled Congressional Scales, A True Balance (1850):

A satire on President Zachary Taylor's attempts to balance Southern and Northern interests on the question of slavery in 1850. Taylor stands atop a pair of scales, with a weight in each hand; the weight on the left reads "Wilmot Proviso" and the one on the right "Southern Rights." Below, the scales are evenly balanced, with several members of Congress, including Henry Clay in the tray on the left, and others, among them Lewis Cass and John Calhoun, on the right. Taylor says, "Who said I would not make a "NO PARTY" President? I defy you to show any party action here." One legislator on the left sings, "How much do you weigh? Eight dollars a day. Whack fol de rol!" Another states, "My patience is as inexhaustible as the public treasury." A congressman on the right says, "We can wait as long as they can." On the ground, at right, John Bull observes, "That's like what we calls in old Hingland, a glass of 'alf and 'alf."

The Clayton Compromise 10: "This is the security for the South which I had the temerity to reject!"

As Rep. Alexander Stephens appeared to be wrapping up his August 7, 1848 speech explaining why he had opposed the Clayton Compromise bill, a fellow southerner – Rep. Frederick Perry Stanton, Democrat of Tennessee – interrupted him with a question. Stanton had voted against Stephens's motion to table the bill, and clearly believed that the Constitution carried slavery with it into the territories. Does “the Constitution of the United States,” Rep. Stanton asked, “not recognize slavery”? In effect, Stanton was demanding to know whether Stephens was renouncing the Calhounian position that the territories were the common property of all the states, privileging slaveholders to take their constitutionally recognized property there if they chose.

Little Aleck held his ground and pulled no punches. Yes, the Constitution recognized and guaranteed slavery – in the Fugitive Slave Clause for example – but the establishment of slavery depended on local law. Where local law authorized slavery, the Constitution recognized it. Where local law barred the institution, however, the Constitution did not overrule:

Yes, sir, the Constitution recognizes slavery, but only where it is not prohibited by the laws of the State, or place, or for the purpose of protecting it. The Constitution recognizes slavery in Tennessee and Georgia, and in all the States where slavery exists by law; but it does not recognize it in New York or Ohio, or in any State, except so far as it provides for the recapture of runaway slaves. The Constitution recognizes and guaranties slavery wherever it exists by the local law, but it establishes it nowhere where it is prohibited by law.

The Compromise bill, Stephens maintained, was worse than the Wilmot Proviso, which at least had the advantage of discriminating openly. If, as Rep. Stanton suggested, the Constitution itself carried slavery into the territories, then the Compromise gave the South no rights it did not already have. If, on the other hand, Stephens was correct, the Compromise bill would have barred the South from the territories forever:

The rights of the South are not only endangered, but totally abandoned in this compromise. Its passage would have been worse for the South than the Wilmot proviso in express terms; for, if the principles upon which its southern friends advocate it be true – that is, if by the Constitution the southern slaveholder has a right to carry and hold his slaves in these Territories, notwithstanding the existing municipal law of Mexico by which slavery is abolished there, then, of course, the same right would exist, even if the Wilmot proviso were passed; and the proviso, if passed, being in contravention of this constitutional right, of course the Supreme Court would be bound to decide it null and void. So that the compromise secures no rights to the South which they would not have even under the Wilmot proviso itself.

But, on the other hand, if the Supreme Court should, under the compromise bill, decide against the slaveholder, on the ground that the existing laws of Mexico, at the time of the conquest, were in force there until altered by some competent authority, then, sir, we should be bound by it forever; for we could not come and ask Congress to alter the law against the compromise, even although the court might say that Congress had the power either directly to alter it, or to allow the Territorial Legislature to do it; for we all understand that a compromise is a final settlement, and all parties are bound in honor to abide by it.

Based upon his analysis, Stephens argued that it was he, not his southern critics, who was the true defender of southern rights:

Then, sir, what are we of the South to gain by this compromise? Nothing but what we would have, even with the Wilmot proviso - the poor privilege of carrying our slaves into a country where the first thing to be encountered is the certain prospect of an expensive lawsuit which may cost more than any slave is worth; and, in my opinion, with the absolute certainty of ultimate defeat in the end, and with no law in the mean time to protect our rights of property in any way whatever! This, sir, is the substance of the compromise, even in the most favorable view it can be presented! And this is the security for the South which I had the temerity to reject!

Would that the people of that section may ever have men upon this floor of such temerity! I did reject it; and I shall continue to reject all such favors. If I can get no better compromise, I shall certainly never take any at all. As long as I have a seat here, I shall maintain the just and equal rights of my section upon this as well as upon all other questions. I ask nothing more, and I shall take nothing less. All I demand is common right and common justice; these I will have in clear and express terms, or I will have nothing.

I speak to the North, irrespective of parties. I recognize no party association or affiliation upon this subject. If the two parties at the North combine, and make a sectional issue, and by their numerical strength vote down the South, and deny us those equal rights to which I think we are in justice entitled, it will be for the people of the South then to adopt such a course as they deem proper.

After expressing these Calhounian sentiments, Stephens backed off a bit. He did not object to compromise, he emphasized, provided it was express and just:

I have no objection to compromising the question, but I have only two plans of compromise: one is, a fair division of the territory by clear and distinct lines, by which every one may know exactly to what extent his right will be protected. I care not much whether it be by an extension of the Missouri line, or whether it be by adopting as a line one side of the mountain ranges, giving the South all on this side and the North all on the other. I am, however, rather in favor of the latter; but shall insist upon some fair and just division.

Stephens' other compromise suggestion, intended no doubt to provoke Stanton and his Democratic colleagues, harked back to the Whig "no territory" position held during the Mexican War:

That is one plan of compromise I shall favor, and if I cannot get that, I have but one other to offer, and that is, to reject the territory altogether. Let us keep our money which is to be paid for it, and let Mexico keep her provinces and her people.

The Clayton Compromise 9: "They should not decide upon the life of my dog if I could prevent it"

In my last post on the Clayton Compromise, Rep. Alexander Stephens (Whig – Georgia) delivered a compelling legal brief on August 7, 1848 to explain why he had moved to table the bill ten days earlier. Legal authority and case law, he argued, would have compelled the Supreme Court to conclude that slavery was barred in the former Mexican territories of California and New Mexico.

It appeared Stephens's argument was winding down. He briefly dismissed the argument that the bill was pro-South because a southern-leaning Supreme Court would rule in favor of slavery, no matter what the merits:

It is with pain I have heard allusions made to the present composition of the court – five judges from the South, and four from the North; and that, therefore, the question would be safe for the South in their hands, as we had a majority of the bench. I consider such an argument a gross imputation upon the court; and no greater disgrace could be attached to the members of it, or to the country, than a decision made from any such considerations. No judge, whether from the North or the South, could ever be influenced by such motives, until he became as corrupt and as debased as the execrable [Elijah] Impey – the infamous tool of [Warren] Hastings.

If I thought such motives could operate upon the court, that would be the last body in the world I would refer the decision of any question to. They should not decide upon the life of my dog if I could prevent it.

The Clayton Compromise 8: "Articles of Capitulation on the part of the South"

The most interesting speech on the Clayton Compromise bill was not delivered during the debates over the Compromise. As I explained in an earlier post, on August 7, 1848 Rep. Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia took the House floor to explain why he had moved to table the bill ten days earlier. That speech is well worth its own post or two.

Rep. Stephens argued that he had properly moved to kill the bill for essentially two reasons. First, the bill “settled nothing”; it merely kicked the can down the road, and it did so in such a way that would only create “greater and more alarming excitement” later only. Second, and more importantly, the bill, labeled a “compromise”, was nothing of the sort. It was a sell-out of the South and “might be more properly entitled Articles of Capitulation on the part of the South.”

Stephens' discussion of his first point was brief and lacked detail. The bill, Stephens suggested, dishonestly deferred resolution of the issue of slavery in the territories and improperly shifted responsibility for the decision from Congress (to the Supreme Court). One section or the other would ultimately be angered by the outcome. Congress ought to face up to its responsibilities and deal with the consequences now rather rather than create a firestorm later on (some paragraph breaks added):

[W]hile [the Clayton Compromise bill] was urged as a compromise and a settlement of the agitating question which now so greatly distracts the public mind, it really settled nothing, but opened wide the door for greater and more alarming excitement. Those gentlemen of the North who advocated it, claimed it as a complete triumph of their principles; while those of the South, I suppose, were prepared to go to their constituents, and tell them that it fully secured all their rights. Now, sir, I do not believe in compromises or settlements that are not fully and clearly and distinctly understood on both sides at the time.

What is the great point of difference now between the two great sections of the Union? The North insists upon the policy of excluding the institutions of the South from the whole of the new Territories, while the South contends that that she is, in justice, entitled to an equal share of whatever country may be acquired by the common blood and treasure of all.

And how was this difference proposed to be compromised and settled? Simply, by the adoption of a measure, upon the meaning and import of which leading men on both sides, at the time, differed as widely as they did upon the main question itself.

So far from settling the question, or “pouring oil upon the troubled waters,” such a measure could be have multiplied difficulties, increased excitement, and “added fuel to the flame.” For this reason, in my judgment, the bill should have met favor from no quarter.

The real question, the great issue between the two sections of the country, has to be met sooner or later, and no shifting of responsibility, in order to get a postponement for the purpose of carrying a Presidential election, or relieving a candidate from an almost universally condemned position, will successfully evade it. And when it is met, I want it met fairly and squarely.

This, however, was merely prologue to Stephens' main point, “that for far greater and more controlling reasons, no southern man should have voted for that measure.” The bill, Stephens maintained, “proposed a total abandonment and surrender of the rights of the South. Not an open abandonment, but a covert one.”

I have much graver reasons than this for my opposition to the territorial bill which was rejected the other day in this House, on my motion. It is my object at this time to speak upon that measure, which some gentlemen are pleased to call the "compromise bill," but which might be more properly entitled Articles of Capitulation on the part of the South. So far from being a compromise, that bill proposed nothing short of an abandonment of the position of the South, and a surrender of the just rights of her people to an equal participation in the new acquisitions of territory. The surrender was covert, but it was no less complete and absolute.

This I intend to show. Never was any measure more grossly misnamed or miscalled. It was no compromise in any sense of the word. A compromise is the mutual yielding of rights, for the purpose of adjusting and settling differences and difficulties. But, in this case, there was no such mutual concession. The whole question was left, in the last resort, to the Supreme Court of the United States, upon whose decision one party was either to get or lose all. And, entertaining not the slightest doubt that under it the South was to lose all, I adopted the speediest and most effective means of defeating it.

Stephens began to explain his position by quoting from the key sections of the bill relating to the California and New Mexico territories, prohibiting the governments from legislating concerning slavery and inviting Supreme Court review. “The bill contains nothing else which bears materially upon the subject of slavery,” Stephens explained. But this left the southern slaveholder with, at best, nothing but “expensive and almost endless litigation”:

[The bill] leaves the southern man, who may be inclined to go there with his slaves, to contest his rights to the best of his abilities with the courts of Territory in the first instance, and then, if he chooses, with the Supreme Court of the Union.

All that the bill does is, to guard against the passage of any law for the protection of the master; but opens wide the door of expensive and almost endless litigation between him and his slave, without affording him even the shadow of a semblance of a hope that his rights, at the end of the law, will ever be recognized or enforced.

Worse, the bill ignored the underlying issue: what was the law that the courts were supposed to apply? Courts, Stephens cogently argued, don't create law, they apply it. What law would they be applying here?

The most interesting of all questions, Mr. Speaker, to the South, upon this point, is, by what law will the Territorial courts, in the first instance, and the Supreme Court of the United States, in the last resort, decide the question of freedom between master and slave? It is not the province of courts, in their judicial character, to make laws; they can only decide upon laws after they are made. And in the absence of legislation by Congress, and the Territorial Governments, upon this subject, by what law, I ask, will the courts decide questions between the master and his slave in these Territories?

Without yet answering the question, Stephens implied that southerners in favor of the bill had engaged in wishful thinking, viewing the anticipated outcome as “partisans” rather than as “statesmen”:

This, sir, is a great and vital question for us to consider – not as partisans, but as statesmen – before we refer a subject of so much interest to their decision. It is certainly a matter of the utmost importance to the people of the South, that they should not be left in ignorance upon it; and, so far as my ability goes, they shall not be.

Stephens then laid out his answer to question, exposing the core reason for his position. Sober legal analysis led to the conclusion that the courts would apply pre-existing Mexican law in force in New Mexico and California which barred slavery:

[A]ccording to the best, ablest, and most approved writers on public law, and according to the decisions of the courts in England, in analogous cases, and according to the repeated decisions of our own Supreme Court to which this bill proposed to refer this matter, (in the absence of such legislation as I have alluded to,), the law by which the courts would decide questions of slavery there is the law which was in force in New Mexico and California upon that subject at the time of the conquest.

This was because, Stephens asserted, legal principles and authorities demonstrated that

all the laws which were in force in the conquered county at the time of conquest, are held to continue in force until altered or modified by the conquering power, except such as may be inconsistent with the fundamental law of the conquering power, or inconsistent with some stipulation in the final treaty, or such as were purely political in their character, and concerned only the relations between the people and their sovereign or ruling power. . . . According to modern doctrine, the relations of the people towards their sovereign or ruling power, in whatever form of government, are changed; but their relations towards each other and their laws, as before stated, remain until modified or altered by the new governing power.

Citing and quoting from learned legal authorities on international law (Grotius, Vattel) and British and American legal decisions by Lord Mansfield, John Marshall and William Johnson), Stephens then delivered what amounted to a remarkably detailed legal brief, consuming three dense columns in the Congressional Globe, in support of these propositions.

The only question, then, was “what was the law upon the subject of slavery in California or New Mexico at time of their conquest?” The answer admitted of no doubt. “Slavery was abolished there in 1829.” Stephens cited and quoted the relevant Mexican decree (signed by Vicente Guerrero and Laurenzo de Zavala on September 15, 1829) and act to prove the point.

The conclusion, then, was clear. Courts deciding freedom suits in New Mexico and California as contemplated by the Clayton bill would have been compelled to rule against the master:

From this I take it for granted that nobody will deny that slavery was abolished in California and New Mexico at the time of their conquest by our arms. If a slave at that time had brought an action for his freedom against his master before the courts of the country, does any man doubt but that the courts under the law then in force would have declared him to be free? And as our court has decided that in all such cases the laws of the acquired territory in force at the time of the acquisition, shall remain in force as the law of the place until altered by competent authority, can any man doubt that they would decide the question just as the Mexican courts would have decided it at that time?

In the next (and I expect final) post on the subject, I will look at the balance of Rep. Stephens's speech.

The Clayton Compromise 7: The House Tables the Bill

As we have seen in earlier posts, an exhausted Senate passed the Clayton Compromise bill on the morning on Thursday July 27, 1848. The bill was then reported to the House of Representatives.

After all of the Senate's efforts, the action in the House was an anticlimactic. Immediately after the bill's introduction on Friday July 28 Alexander Stephens, Whig of Georgia, “moved to lay the bill on the table, and demanded the yeas and nays.”

At the time, Rep. Stephens made only a short statement in support of his motion, one which did not explain in any detail the basis for his disapproval of the bill. The bill, he maintained, merely postponed the question of slavery in the territories and would not give any peace to the country. The session had already been a long one; it was time to go home:

Mr. STEPHENS here said that he admitted, with the gentleman from Kentucky, [Mr. Boyd,] that this bill was connected with a question of the deepest interest; but he could not believe, as that gentleman seemed to do, that its passage would secure peace and quiet to the country; if he did, he should be willing to protract this session indefinitely till it was passed. But, as he read the bill, all it did was merely to postpone the question, not to settle it, or give any peace to the country. The session was already of unusual length; he thought it was time they should go home. He had no belief that the question could be settled during the present session; and, wishing to bring it to a test vote, he would move to lay the bill on the table.

Shortly thereafter, the yeas and nays were taken. By a vote of 112 to 97 “the bill was laid upon the table.” As in the Senate, Southern Democrats voted solidly against the motion (and therefore in favor of the bill), while Northern Whigs voted solidly in favor of the motion (and against the bill). Northern Democrats and southern Whigs were divided. The breakdown among parties and sections was as follows (bear in mind that a vote in favor of the motion was in effect a vote against the bill):

	Dems	Whigs	Total
North	31 - 21	73 - 0	104 - 21
South	0 - 49	8 - 27	8 - 76
Total	31 - 70	81 - 27	112 - 97

The votes of Stephens and his seven southern Whig colleagues were thus crucial. Had they voted against the motion it would have been defeated 104 – 105.

As Thomas E. Schott explains in Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia: A Biography, both Democrats and some Whigs in his native state blasted Stephens for his motion and vote:

Georgia Democrats yowled. “Oh Whiggery! manifold are they since! But this is the climax of its iniquities,” raged the Constitutionalist. “A Georgian . . . took the lead in this act, which stabs the very bosom of his country's peace.” The editor foamed like this for weeks. The Federal Union immediately established on its front page a black-bordered box headed “Who Killed the Compromise Bill?” followed by a list, entitled “The Immortal Eight,” with Stephens' name in block capitals at the top. . . .

Some Georgia Whigs were similarly outraged. The Augusta Republic hoped that the “calculating demagogue” who would hazard the country's safety would “be damned forever.”

To combat such criticism, on August 7, 1848 Stephens took the House floor to explain his position. It is to that speech, generally regarded as the most thoughtful and intelligent delivered concerning the Clayton Compromise, that we will turn in the next post.

Stephanie McCurry Bellows

Stephanie McCurry's first book, Masters of Small Worlds, was, I thought, a masterpiece. Her second work, Confederate Reckoning: Power and Politics in the Civil War South, has managed to turn me off in the opening pages. So far, I am tremendously disappointed.

By way of example, here is a brief passage from page 22, in which McCurry is discussing the concept of "the People" and arguing that secessionist radicals viewed "the People" as limited to white males. She refers to the speeches given by Alexander Stephens and Thomas R.R. Cobb against and for immediate secession to the Georgia legislature in November 1860:

But while Stephens fetishized "the people," filling his speech with obsequious references to their sovereignty and majesty, it was the spokesman for secession, state legislator Thomas R.R. Cobb, who mastered the populist appeal. Cobb headed straight for the bottom line: "This Constitution was made for white men - citizens of the United States," he bellowed to the crowded hall.

Now I've written many arguments in my time and read more. When I see cheap rhetoric masquerading as argument it stands out.

Turning first to Stephens, he may or may not have "fetishized" the People, and he may or may not have used many "obsequious references." If you want to make the argument that he did, fine. But make it directly. McCurry simply uses loaded words to denigrate her target. And while she's at it, I suppose she ought to explain how Stephens was fetishizing and being any more or less obsequious than other politicians of his day. Instead, we get what amounts to a drive-by shooting that's not even directly related to her main point.

But my real disdain is reserved for her characterization of Thomas Cobb as "bellow[ing]". There is no reason to believe that he was bellowing any more or less than any other orator in those unamplified times. The use of the term is simply a cheap device intended to prejudice the reader against the target, and perhaps to convey that McCurry righteously disapproves of him. McCurry could have made her point equally or more effectively with an unloaded verb.

If I want to read rhetorical tricks, cheap invective and sleazy characterization substituting for argument I can buy the New York Times. It's disappointing to find such nonsense - and the opening of the book is littered with it - in a history book.

The Death of Zachary Taylor

Prompted by a comment left by Frances Hunter, I've consulted some sources about the medical treatment administered to President Zachary Taylor before his death on July 9, 1850.

The onset of the illness is pretty well known. On Thursday July 4, 1850, Taylor sat outside for three hours or more listening to speeches and ceremonies at the uncompleted Washington Monument. The day was a brutal one, even by Washington standards. One source recorded the temperature as 92 degrees, and the humidity was “crushing.” A Washington correspondent noted “that numerous people fainted and that several horses dropped dead in the streets from sunstroke.” Taylor was 65 years of age may have been coming down with something even before the ceremonies started. John C. Waugh reports that Taylor “complained of dizziness and headache” as he arrived at the Monument.

Taylor apparently sat in the shade most of the time, but also spent some time in the blazing direct sunlight. Although he was in the sun for only part of the time, Taylor may have suffered from mild sunstroke and was almost certainly dehydrated.

When he returned to the White House, he (in the words of Elbert B. Smith) “ate raw fruit, probably cherries, and, reportedly, various raw vegetables as well, which he washed down with large quantities of iced milk.” By early evening, he was feeling unwell and sent his regrets that he was unable to attend a dinner party. Soon after he was seized with a violent attack of “cramps, indigestion, diarrhea and vomiting.” At first the president, who had a history of intestinal disorders, was not concerned. “But by midnight he was much worse.”

It is unclear when physicians were first called. John C. Waugh and Elbert B. Smith indicate that the president was treated quickly, apparently on Friday July 5. Mark J. Stegmaier states that “a physician was finally called in to attend him” only on the afternoon of Saturday July 6. Whenever the doctors arrived, they diagnosed “cholera morbus”, probably acute gastroenteritis, and prescribed "calomel (a mercury compound) and opium.”

Whether as a result of medical treatment or not, the president at first rallied somewhat. Although he canceled appointments on the morning of Friday July 5, by that afternoon he was feeling somewhat better, capable of signing documents relating to the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty and writing a few letters while resting on a sofa.

Then, at about 3:00 p.m that afternoon. Taylor endured a confrontational visit by Alexander Stephens and Robert Toombs, who angrily castigated the president over his position on the ongoing slavery crisis. Among other things, they told the president that his position endangered the Union, and they threatened to have the president censured over the Galphin Affair if he did not change his course. At that point the president was reportedly strong enough to defy his visitors and issue his own warning against threats of disunion:

Gentlemen, . . . if ever the flag of disunion is raised within the borders of these United States while I occupy the Chair, I will plant the stars and stripes alongside of it, and with my own hand strike it down, if not a soul comes to my aid south of Mason and Dixon's line.

There is some reason to wonder whether the stress of the Stephens-Toombs visit contributed to the president's subsequent relapse. Taylor was unable to sleep the night of July 5 – July 6 and became progressively more ill on Saturday July 6. By that afternoon (if not earlier), a doctor or doctors were called and administered “massive” doses of quinine and calomel. At some point, they added "[b]leeding and blisters" to their treatments.

Despite or because of these remedies, the president's condition became progressively worse. By Monday July 8, Taylor was feverish and delusional and recognized that death was near.

By Tuesday July 9, the president's life was clearly in the balance. During the course of the afternoon, his conditioned worsened, then rallied briefly. However, he then suffered a relapse that all present apparently recognized as final. The doctors ceased treatment and declared he was in God's hands. Death came at 10:35 that night.

Before midnight, there was a knock on Millard Fillmore's door at the Willard Hotel.

Abe as Good as Millard: Alexander Stephens

In the summer of 1860, Georgia radicals were warning that the election of Abraham Lincoln would mean disaster for the south. Secession would be the only remedy.

Cooperationist (and future vice president of the Confederate States) Alexander Stephens was unconvinced. Writing to a friend in July 1860, Stephens opined that Lincoln, if elected, would be as good as, and perhaps better than, . . . wait for it . . . Millard Fillmore!

"I know the man [Lincoln] well," [Stephens wrote], "he is not a bad man." In fact, Stephens predicted, "He will make as good a President as Fillmore did and better too in my opinion."

Michael P. Johnson, Toward a Patriarchal Republic: The Secession of Georgia.

Judge Francis Cone Attempts to Kill Alexander Stephens

The story of the assault by Judge Francis Cone (whose name I mistyped as "Coner" in a previous post) on Alexander Stephens is so dramatic that I thought I'd relate it.

I haven't been able to find much information about Judge Cone; I infer, from the lack of information that he was a local judge in Georgia. At all events, the background of the assault, according to Daniel Walker Howe, lay in Stephens' opposition to Whig Senator John Clayton's bill that would have referred the "the question of slavery in the new territories [created from the Mexican Cession] to the U.S. Supreme Court." Stephens did so because "he decided that the Court was bound to rule in favor of freedom." Stephens, like Joshua Giddings and many other northerners, believed that, "[s]ince Mexican law had prohibited slavery, the institution would remain illegal in the absence of any new legislation."

Back in Georgia, Stephens heard rumors that Judge Cone had called him "a traitor to the South," presumably because Stephens had "endorsed the same line of legal reasoning as the free soilers."

Stephens confronted Cone, who denied it. "Stephens responded, ungraciously, that if Cone had spoken [the words], he would have slapped his face."

Cone later wrote Stephens to demand that Stephens retract his parting insult. Stephens refused.

On September 3, 1848, the two men ran into each other outside the Thompson Hotel in Atlanta. I'll let Professor Howe tell the rest:

[This time], Cone did call Stephens a traitor, and Stephens hit him in the face with his cane, no doubt expecting this would lead to a duel. Instead of setting up a proper duel, however, Cone whipped out a knife and stabbed Stephens repeatedly. He climbed on top of his fallen antagonist, and, when Stephens still refused to retract anything, proceeded to slash his throat. Only then was Cone pulled off by others. Stephens miraculously survived and declined to press charges. Judge Cone pleaded guilty to wounding and was fine a thousand dollars.

Another Unfair Quiz

What do Herschel V. Johnson of Georgia, well-known fire-eater William Lowndes Yancey of Alabama, Georgia Whig, Know-Nothing and Constitutional Union party member Benjamin H. Hill, and a Georgia judge by the name of Francis Coner have in common? It's something that relates to Alexander Stephens.

Unrelated to the quiz, I cannot fail to express my amazement that Herschel V. Johnson's middle name was "Vespasian." Why on earth would you give your child that name?