Millard Fillmore, "the most Jacksonian of any president of the era"

Our thirteenth president, Millard Fillmore, is typically cast as a craven milquetoast who facilitated the Compromise of 1850 because he didn't have the guts to stand up to the southern Slave Power.

I have long argued that this is nonsense.  Citing among other things Millard's determination to address the state of Texas's threat to invade the New Mexico Territory, I have repeatedly argued that Millard was a bold and decisive leader who authorized and was prepared to use military force to put down rebellion if necessary.  See my post "Anyone who thought that Fillmore lacked spine was now disabused" for a summary of my views and links to earlier posts on the subject.

I am pleased to report that author Chris DeRose has clearly carefully studied and absorbed my posts.  In his most recent volume The Presidents' War: Six American Presidents and the Civil War that Divided Them the author correctly characterizes Millard as "the most Jacksonian of any president of the era."

In a message to Congress, Fillmore promised to respond to this [Texas's threatened invasion of New Mexico] for what it was - criminal invasion.  He underscored his words by dispatching 750 additional troops to the region. 

*** 

. . . Fillmore learned that extremists in South Carolina planned on seizing federal installments at Charleston.  As he had with Texas, Fillmore acted decisively, inviting General Winfield Scott to cabinet meetings.  He poured federal troops into South Carolina and positioned others in North Carolina that could strike if necessary.  The South Carolina legislature, through their governor, demanded an explanation.  Fillmore, through his State Department, made clear that he was the commander in chief of the army and navy, that the decision to direct troop was entirely within his discretion, and that he was not answerable to the governor, the legislature, or anyone else. 

*** 

. . . [B]y finding the right balance of firmness and flexibility, Fillmore has prevented civil war and ironically was the most Jacksonian of any president of the era.

Millard Not Dissed!

Over at Millard Fillmore's Bathtub, Ed Darrell has an appreciative post on Millard: Quote of the Moment: Should We Reconsider Millard Fillmore?  He ends:

Historians often offer back-handed criticism to Fillmore for the Compromise of 1850; in retrospect it did not prevent the Civil War. In the circumstances of 1850, in the circumstances of Fillmore’s presidential career, should we expect more? Compared to Buchanan’s presidency and the events accelerating toward war, did Fillmore do so badly?

Have we underestimated Millard Fillmore? Discuss.

You know how I'd answer the question.

About the illustration, entitled Delivery of the President's Letter:

Print shows the American delegation, under the command of Matthew C. Perry, presenting a letter from President Fillmore to the Japanese, requesting the establishment of diplomatic and trade relations.

"The Compromise of 1850 must be judged a success"

I have also discussed in more than one post whether the Compromise of 1850 was a good thing or bad thing.  This breaks down, as I see it, into essentially two counterfactual questions.  Would war have erupted in 1850 or 1851 if the Compromise had failed?  And, if so, would the North have won?

In his new book on the Compromise, Fergus M. Bordewich answers the first question in the affirmative, the second in the negative.  He therefore concludes that "the Compromise must be judged a success."  (He qualifies this with the proviso, "albeit a temporary one," but that's another story. Millard and the other men who crafted the Compromise in 1850 had no way of predicting, for example, Bloody Kansas.)

As to the first issue, Bordewich has no doubt that "[f]ailure . . . meant war."  As I have argued before, he is convinced that the first shots would have been fired in Santa Fe.  But even a desultory border scrimmage between Texas and U.S. forces or New Mexican militia would have drawn in volunteers from other southern states and widened into a general war:

Failure would have meant war, with its first shots fired at Santa Fe instead of Fort Sumter.  Even if Texas had suffered an initial defeat, southerners were ready to rush to her aid. . . .  Large numbers of southerners had come to accept secession as politically reasonable, economically rational, and morally justified.

Intertwined with this issue is Bordewich's response to the second question.  The North would have lost, he maintains, primarily because it would not have put up a serious fight:

The North, if it had any stomach for war at all in 1850, would likely have lost. . . .  [F]ew northerners . . . were prepared to fight a war for the Union, much less to end slavery.  There was nothing in the North to compare with the flaming war fever that was epidemic in the newspapers of the South, and the fiery letters that war-hungry men from South Carolina to Mississippi sent to the leaders of Texas, begging for a chance to fight for slavery.

During the 1850s northern industrial resources grew by leaps and bounds.  Although this may also have contributed to the Union's victory a decade, but the crucial difference was "will":

During the decade that was purchased by the Compromise of 1850, the North's advantages in population, industrial production, and transportation steadily grew. . . .  But it took more to win the Civil War than factory output: it required will.  In the course of the 1850s, as slavery continued to gnaw at the nation's political vitals [other southern outrages omitted]. white Americans [in the North] increasingly understood that the erosion of their own rights was tied to the fate of enslaved blacks . . ..

Finally, Bordewich evocatively describes what might have happened if northerners like President Fillmore had taken the moral high road in 1850 and lost:

Had secession taken place peacefully in 1850, the South would have set a precedent that in time might well have splintered what remained of the United States still further.  The United States might then have evolved into a congeries of states - a Pacific Republic, a federation of New England, another of the upper Midwest - competitive with one another, vulnerable to foreign interference, and perhaps chronically at war.  A truncated United States would never have become a globe-striding power, or a beacon of liberty for the rest of the world, but more likely a second-tier state like Germany or France. . . .  That none of this happened, we owe to the compromisers of 1850.

Why Millard Blew It

In a post entitled Van Buren at Lawyers, Guns & Money, Erik Loomis refers to "a study that correctly notes the tendency of historians to give high rankings to presidents who kill a lot of Americans in wars during their tenure."

While Erik worries about more important things, such as whether this phenomenon creates an incentive for modern-day presidents to start wars, I of course am fixated on Millard Fillmore.

Millard, as you know, gets hammered as a cross between a nebbish and the anti-Christ for facilitating and signing the bills that are collectively known as the Compromise of 1850. If only he'd sabotaged the Compromise and started a war that killed as many as died starting eleven years later.  Then maybe he'd be as revered as the Railsplitter!

"Anyone who thought that Fillmore lacked spine was now disabused"

I have explained in a number of previously published posts how Millard Fillmore's firm and decisive actions in early August 1850 formed the basis for resolution of the crisis that had been building for four years, ever since David Wilmot had introduced his fateful Proviso in August 1846.  In a nutshell (see the posts linked above for more detail), the newly-installed president made clear to the State of Texas that the federal government would fight if state forces attacked the New Mexico territory.

In his newly-published book America's Great Debate: Henry Clay, Stephen A. Douglas, and the Compromise That Preserved the Union, Fergus M. Bordewich points out the guts that this move took:

The following day, August 6 [1850], Fillmore sent his own message to Congress.  [Secretary of State Daniel] Webster may have contributed to it, but to give the president his due, anyone who thought that Fillmore lacked spine was now disabused.  A weak man might well have capitulated to the Texans: Fillmore dug in his well-polished boots.  The president declared unequivocally that New Mexico was federal territory, and that Texas enjoyed no rights or powers beyond her state limits.  "If Texas militia march into any of other States or into any Territory of the United States, there to execute or enforce any law of Texas, they become at that moment trespassers; they are no longer under the protection of any lawful authority, and are to be regarded merely as intruders," he declared.  Should the laws of the United States be opposed or obstructed in any way, it was his duty as commander-in-chief to employ the armed forces as they were needed.

The response to Fillmore's message, especially from northerners in Congress, was highly favorable; from Newport [Rhode Island], Henry Clay sent a telegram offering the president his full support.  The sleekly groomed Fillmore might not be the soldier that hard-edged [Zachary] Taylor had been, but his meaning was equally unmistakable: the United States was ready to go to war.

The president's message shifted the focus from the California issue to Texas-New Mexico.  And the combination of the president's "stick" and the "carrot" represented by the Texas bond bill did the trick:

The real question was: what would [the two Texas senators, Thomas Jefferson Rusk and Sam Houston] do?  Without their support, no compromise would work. . . .  Both . . . knew that federal troops were en route to New Mexico, that the president was firmly committed to resist an invasion, and that without the camouflage of the Omnibus Texas stood no chance of winning congressional recognition for its entire elephantine claim.  Some Texans were also having second thoughts.  "It is unpleasant to impoverish the state and tax our people with insupportable burthens to make war against the U.S. although it is as we all know on our soil," one uneasy constituent wrote to Rusk.

It was over within a matter of days.  On August 9 Rusk and Houston announced their support for the Texas-New Mexico measures.  That day, Stephen Douglas' motion for a third reading of the bill squeaked by, 27 to 24.  "[T]he Texans had tipped the balance."  The final vote on the bill, later that evening, "was decisive, if anticlimactic": 30 votes to 20.

About the illustration at the top, entitled Capability and Availability:

Sharply critical of both the Democratic and Whig choice of presidential candidates in 1852, the artist laments the nomination of two soldiers, Winfield Scott (center) and Franklin Pierce (far right), in preference to several more "capable" statesmen who appear at left. The latter are (left to right): Samuel Houston, John J. Crittenden, Thomas Hart Benton, Millard Fillmore, John Bell, Lewis Cass, Stephen A. Douglas, and Daniel Webster. Most prominent in the group are Fillmore, Cass, and Webster, who also sought the presidential nomination in 1852. Fillmore: "I have sought more anxiously to do what was right; than what would please, and feel no disappointment, at finding that my Conduct has, rendered me an unavailable candidate." Cass: "We have been partizans where we differed in opinions as to the best means of promoting the prosperity and happiness of our native land, but we cast aside, party when we stood Shoulder, to Shoulder, for the Constitution & the Union." Webster: "It is not our fortune to be, or to have been successful Millitary Chieftains. We are nothing but painstaking, hardworking, drudging Civilians, giving our life, and health, and strength, to the maintenance of the Constitution and upholding the liberties of our country." Columbia, draped in stars and stripes and grasping the hands of Scott and Pierce, responds: "I acknowledge your noble services, worth and Constant devotion most Illustrious sons, and that you have the long experience, Sound sense and practical wisdom which fit you to receive the highest honor in my power to bestow, but you are "not Available." " "Availability," in the contemporary lexicon, meant the quality of broad popular appeal. Scott and Pierce were both distinguished in the Mexican War. Scott, holding a liberty staff and Phrygian cap, proclaims: "You see Gentlemen it is "availability" that is required and that is "my" qualification." Pierce holds a shield adorned with stars and stripes, adding, "I am a "Great" man and have done the country "Great" Service! I never knew it before; but it "must be so;" for the Convention has declared it, and the Democracy affirm it." Before his nomination by the Democratic convention of 1852, Pierce was a relatively little known New Hampshire attorney--a fact which Whig publicists tended to exaggerate. Pierce had, after all, served as a two-term congressman and senator from New Hampshire.

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."

California and the Missouri Compromise Line

In the late 1840s, during the lead-up to the Compromise of 1850, some federal legislators argued that the prospective state of California should be divided in half and ultimately be admitted as two states. These were southerners, of course, who were proposing that the Missouri Compromise line be extended to the Pacific. The northern portion would be admitted as a free state; slavery would be permitted in the south.

It was not to be, because most northerners, and some southerners (including Louisiana slaveholder Zachary Taylor), objected, for a variety of reasons, and most of us would say that the good guys won that fight. But Lawprof Ilya Somin's recent post at Volokh makes me wonder: would we all not have been better off, at least in the long run, if proponents of the extension of the Missouri Compromise line had succeeded?

Millard Loses a War He Didn't Fight

In At the Edge of the Precipice: Henry Clay and the Compromise that Saved the Union, Robert V. Remini makes clear that he believes that the Compromise of 1850 saved the Union. “By 1850 . . . it appeared likely that the nation would descend into secession and civil war. . . . The resulting Compromise of 1850 delayed the catastrophe of civil war for ten years.”

Prof. Remini likewise does not equivocate in his opinion concerning the importance of those ten years. Had civil war broken out in 1850, he maintains, the Union would not have survived:

[T]hose ten years were absolutely essential for preserving the American nation under the Constitution. Had secession occurred in1850, the South unquestionably would have made good its independence, and the country might well have split permanently into two nations. . . . Even ten years later, when war finally did break out, the South almost succeeded militarily in establishing its independence Why it failed was largely due to the Compromise of 1850.

Prof. Remini argues that those ten years made a difference for two reasons. Here is where the good Professor and I come to a parting of the ways. His first reason I agree with. To his second I register my vehement objection.

The first consideration to which Prof. Remini points is continued industrialization by the North during the 1850s:

First, [the Compromise of 1850] gave the North ten years to further its industrialization, by which it strengthened its ability to survive a protracted military conflict. The South did not have that capacity. It did not have the railroad system by which to move men and material to the areas where they were most needed. It did not have the factories or industries by which it could indefinitely sustain a fighting army and functioning government.

Prof. Remini's second factor refers to specific personalities. Basically, he asserts, only Abraham Lincoln could have saved the Union. In the process, he goes out of his way to dis poor Millard, which as you may imagine gets my goat:

Second, the Compromise gave the North ten years to find a statesman who would provide the wisdom and leadership the Union needed to successfully fight a war . . . Abraham Lincoln. By the 1850s . . . leadership of the nation had been reduced to such figures as presidents Millard Fillmore, Franklin Pierce, and James Buchanan, not one of whom had the talent, the skill, or the intelligence to prevent secession and civil war. By the end of the decade, Lincoln had appeared . . ..

Now them's fighting words. To begin at the end, it's worth noting that Prof. Remini is mixing his fruit. Abraham Lincoln didn't have “the talent, the skill, or the intelligence to prevent secession and civil war” either, so that's not the question. Come to think of it, Millard did have the talent, skill and intelligence to preserve the Union without war, so I suppose that puts him one up on Abe.

More fundamentally, it's just absurd to lump Millard together with Pierce and Buchanan. While it's impossible to prove a counterfactual, there is no particular reason to believe that Millard would have made a bad war leader. Look at Lincoln himself. Based on his uncertain and indecisive performance during his first six weeks in office, who would have predicted his growth?

Pace Prof. Remini, as I have documented here in many posts, Millard was a talented and intelligent man who, although he had no military experience (as Lincoln, for all practical purposes, had none), was utterly devoted to the Union. During the period before he resolved the Crisis of 1850 (with some help) he displayed decisiveness and boldness in matters both political and military – issuing a measured but stern warning to Texas not to send a military force against New Mexico, and issuing orders directing United States troops to New Mexico to back up that warning. See here, here, here and here.

If civil war had erupted in 1850-51 (probably starting as hostilities between United States and Texas troops in New Mexico, then spreading as southern states sided with Texas), technology and other considerations would probably have resulted in southern independence. Maybe Millard would have developed into a good war leader, maybe not. But there's no reason to identify his presumed incompetence as one of two key reasons for the North's hypothetical loss in a war that Millard never had an opportunity (if that's the word) to direct.

"The compromise [of 1850] could never have passed had Zachary Taylor lived"

I've argued before that the decisive strategy and firm statesmanship of our nation's least appreciated president, Millard Fillmore, was crucial to the passage of the Compromise of 1850, by which the country avoided civil war for ten crucial years.

I'm in the midst of reading Michael F. Holt's brief (133 pages of text) and so far excellent biography of Franklin Pierce, and I see that Prof. Holt agrees:

Despite the odd alignment in Congress [of the coalitions supporting and opposing the Compromise], the compromise could never have passed had Zachary Taylor lived, but he died on Jul 9, 1850. Taylor's death brought New York's Millard Fillmore to the presidency, and after some hesitation Fillmore named Daniel Webster, a strong pro-compromise man, as his secretary of state. In early August, Fillmore and Webster publicly announced their support for the compromise package, but even before that they had privately pressured northern Whig senators and representatives to allow passage of the concessions to the South. As a result of their pressure, usually involving threats about federal patronage allotment, a sufficient number of northern Whigs abstained on crucial roll-call votes to allow the prosouthern compromise bills to pass.

My chief quibble with Prof. Holt concerns his assertion that Fillmore named Daniel Webster as his secretary of state only "after some hesitation." To the extent this suggests that Fillmore was unsure of who he wanted in that position, I must dissent. Fillmore learned that president Taylor had died late in the evening of July 9, 1850. He was sworn in at noon the next day. Fillmore's biographer Robert J. Rayback relates that Millard settled on Webster his first night as president:

During his first sleepless night as President, Fillmore had settled on Webster as his cabinet's premier. On the day of his inauguration the two went into conference. The aged statesman from Massachusetts, Fillmore learned, was still willing to abide by the principles of his March 7 speech and was willing to take the post of Secretary of State.

What held up the announcement of Webster's appointment was not Millard's indecision but "[d]oubt about who would replace Webster in the Senate and whether Webster's financial friends would continue to pay for his services in the new position." Fillmore and Webster placed "extreme pressure" on Massachusetts governor George N. Briggs (who wanted the post for himself) to appoint Webster's protege Robert C. Winthrop as Webster's replacement in the Senate, while "Webster's friends . . . raised a fund for him, and by July 17 all was arranged for Webster to enter the cabinet."

And before you start howling that the Compromise of 1850 was a monstrous outrage against the laws of Nature and of Nature's God, for which Millard should be execrated rather than hymned, please read Was the Compromise of 1850 a Good Thing or a Bad Thing? and "Civil War between North and South would then have likely erupted".

How many of the men in the print at the top can you identify?

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.

Happy Birthday, Mr. President!

Our thirteenth president, Millard Fillmore, was born January 7, 1800, two hundred ten years ago today. I have written a number of posts over the course of this blog trying to illustrate and explain why he was a fine man and an outstanding president. I urge you to click on the Millard Fillmore tag and take a look at a post or two to get a taste.

Meanwhile, here is something to think about. What if Fillmore, against all odds, had been reelected president in 1856 on the American Party ticket, and occupied the White House in 1860?

Fillmore demonstrated in the Crisis of 1850 that he was no milquetoast. While he fervently sought compromise (and took effective action to achieve it), he also made clear that he would resolutely oppose, by military action if necessary, any attempt to disrupt the Union, ordering federal troops to New Mexico to defend against possible attack by Texas.

In 1860, retired from politics, he displayed the same instincts. Although he was critical of the Republicans for their unwillingness, in his view, to compromise, he was aghast at President James' Buchanan's failure to take military steps to defend the Union. Fillmore's biographer, Robert J. Rayback, describes the former president's position:

On the eve of war Fillmore's criticism was not confined to Republicans. When President Buchanan did not take quick military action to stop South Carolina's secession, Fillmore labeled it a "mistake." "That the general government is sovereign . . . admits of no doubt in my mind," he asserted. From that precept, he argued that no state could "set up its will against" the national government. "Secession and all such acts are absolutely void." Buchanan made his "mistake," Fillmore thought, when he said that the national government has "no authority to 'coerce a state.'" In reality, those who passed the ordinance of secession, Fillmore thought, should have been "regarded as an unauthorized assembly of men conspiring to commit treason, and as such liable to be punished like any other unlawful assembly engaged in the same business."

In all probability, considering his actions in 1850, had Fillmore been in Buchanan's place he would have strengthened the federal garrisons in the Deep South and would have been prepared, if conciliation failed, to use force against the secessionists.

Happy Birthday, Mr. President.

"It is a decision not made by the General Government"

Henry Clay's 1st compromise resolution advocated the admission of California as a state with or without slavery. The text of the resolution, and my review of Clay's comments on it in his speech of January 29, 1850 may be found here.

On February 5, 1850, Clay expanded substantially on his comments a week earlier. In particular, he acknowledged what everyone knew – that if admitted California would be a free state – and took head on complaints by “gentlemen who come from the slaveholding States” “that the North gets all that it desires.”

Clay did not deny this, but he did deny that this result constituted a “concession” by the south. There was no cause to complain because California as a state, not Congress, had reached the decision. This principle, that the people in the states had the power to decide whether to be slave or free, was one that the south regularly espoused:

[B]ut by whom does [the North] get [what it desires]? Does it get it by any action of Congress? If slavery be interdicted in California, it is done by Congress, by this Government? No sir; the interdiction is imposed by California herself. And has it not been the doctrine of all parties, that when a State is about to be admitted into the Union, that State has a right to decide for itself whether it will or will not have within its limits slavery?

Clay cited the Missouri Compromise as precedent. Clay made sure to note that he had been among those “in favor of the admission of Missouri” who “contended that, by the Constitution, no such restriction [on the State after admission] could be imposed.” The same principle applied now, Clay maintained.

Then, if in this struggle of power and empire between the two classes of States a decision of California has taken place adverse to the wishes of the southern States, it is a decision not made by the General Government; it is a decision respecting which they cannot complain to the General Government. It is a decision made by California herself, and which California had incontestably a right to make under the Constitution of the United States.

There is, then, in that first resolution, according to the observation which I made some time ago, a case where neither party concedes; where the question of slavery, either of its introduction or interdiction, is silent as respects the action of this Government; and if it has been decided, it has been decided by a different body – by a different power – by California herself, who had a right to make that decision.

"Two or three general purposes which seemed to me most desirable . . . to accomplish"

Before turning to his individual resolutions, Henry Clay first explained to the Senate on February 5, 1850 the “two or three general purposes which seemed to me most desirable, if possible, to accomplish.”

The first such purpose “was to settle all the controverted questions arising out of the subject of slavery.” Here Clay took a swipe at president Zachary Taylor, whose plans to admit California and the former Mexican territories as states did not deal with other matters such as the Texas-New Mexico border, the District of Columbia, fugitive slaves and the interstate slave trade:

[I]t seemed to me to be doing very little if we settled one question and left other disturbing questions unadjusted. It seemed to me to be doing little if we stopped one leak only in the ship of State, and left other leaks capable of producing danger, if not destruction, to the vessel. I therefore turned my attention to every subject connected with the institution of slavery, and out of which controverted questions have sprung, to see if it were possible or practicable to accommodate and adjust the whole of them.

Clay's second principle was that neither the north nor the south should “sacrifice . . . any great principle”:

Another principal object which attracted my attention was, to endeavor to frame such a scheme of accommodation as that neither of the two classes of States into which our country is unhappily divided should make a sacrifice of any great principle. I believe, sir, that the series of resolutions which I have had the honor of presenting to the Senate accomplishes that object.

Clay maintained that his resolutions required concessions by both sides - “not of principle, not of principle at all, but of feeling, of opinion, in relation to matters in controversy between them.” “[N]either party makes any concessions of principle at all, though the concessions of forbearance are ample.”

Clay's last purpose or principle was extremely odd: it focused on the extent of the concessions that the South would receive from the north:

In the next place, in respect of the slaveholding States, there are resolutions making concessions to them by the class of opposite States, without any compensation whatever being rendered by them to the non-slaveholding states.

The principles are noteworthy for what they omitted. First, there was no counterbalancing principle emphasizing how much the north would be receiving from the south. Even more jarring was the lack of the fundamental principle of equality of burden. Although Clay had mentioned earlier in his remarks that “concessions of forbearance" - presumably by both sides - "are ample,” he pointedly failed to claim that the amount or extent of concessions were equal on both sides.

Clay had explicity stated in his speech on January 29, 1850 that he believed "this project contains about an equal amount of concession and forbearance on both sides." His failure to reaffirm this fundamental idea, together with his final, one-sided declaration about the extent of northern concessions, strongly suggest that, in the intevening week, Clay had become significantly more concerned about southern objections to his plan. He was apparently willing to risk northern complaints about inequality of burden in order to try to diffuse southern complaints that he feared might prove fatal.

I, at least, suspect that this accounts for Clay's somewhat obscure differentiation between "concessions of principle" and "concessions of forbearance." The north and the south were to be treated equally in that neither would be required to make concessions of the former sort. But, Clay implied, "concessions of forbearance" would fall more heavily on the north.

Clay then transitioned to an examination of his resolutions one by one:

I think every one of these characteristics which I have assigned to the measures which I propose is susceptible of clear, satisfactory demonstration, by an attentive perusal and critical examination of the resolutions themselves. Let us take up the first, sir.

"Repress the ardor of these passions"

In his speech of February 5, 1850, after identifying “passion, passion – party, party – and intemperance” as the source “of the great questions which unhappily divide our distracted country,” Henry Clay begged his fellow Senators to step back from the abyss and listen to reason:

All is now uproar, confusion, menace to the existence of the Union and to the happiness and safety of the people. I implore Senators – I entreat them, by all that they expect hereafter, and by all that is dear to them here below, to repress the ardor of these passions, to look at their country at this crisis – to listen to the voice of reason, not as it shall be attempted to be uttered by me, for I am not so presumptuous as to indulge the hope that anything I can say shall deserve the attention I have desired, but to listen to their own reason, their own judgment, their own good sense, in determining what is best to be done for our country in the actual posture in which we find it.

Clay then moved toward consideration of his own “scheme” while at the same time disavowing any attempt to impose a particular plan by fiat. Clay's resolutions were the result of his attempt to come up with “some mode of accommodation, which should once more restore the blessings of concord, harmony, and peace to this great country.” If his colleagues could improve on them, Clay urged them to do so:

[A]llow me to say to honorable Senators, that if they find in it [Clay's plan] anything which is worthy of acceptance, but is susceptible of improvement by amendment, it seems to me that the true and patriotic course for them to pursue is, not to denounce it, but to improve it; not to reject, without examination, any project of accommodation, having for its object the restoration of harmony in this country, but to look at it, and see if it be susceptible of alteration or improvement, so as to accomplish the object which I indulge the hope is common to all and every one of us, to restore peace, and quiet, and harmony, and happiness to this country.

About the illustration, published in New York in 1851:

A patriotic allegory illustrating the cover of sheet music for a song composed by William Vincent Wallace with words by George P. Morris. The theme of the indissoluble union of North and South is evoked here, no doubt in the context of debate over the Compromise of 1850. The artist expresses the concept by two female figures, crowned with diadems, standing together on a globe and holding the staff of a large American flag. The arm of the North (left) encircles the neck of the maiden representing the South. Before them is a large eagle, his talons gripping thunderbolts and his breast emblazoned with the word "Union." The eagle's wings spread to enframe the lower half of the oval picture. The upper half is ringed with stars. Into the distance stretch two great rivers, past large cities, toward rising mountains.

"Calm the violence and rage of party"

On Tuesday February 5, 1850 – one week after he had introduced his resolutions – Henry Clay again took the Senate floor to present a more extended defense of his proposed “amicable arrangement of all questions in controversy between the Free and the Slave States, growing out of the subject of Slavery."

The Senate chamber was packed. As I described some time ago in this post, people eager to hear the Great Pacificator speak were standing in the aisles and galleries. The crowds extended into the entranceway and halls outside the chamber. The resulting pushing and shoving resulted in an interruption to Clay's speech immediately after his opening remarks, discussed below.

Clay's speech extended over two days and takes up more than twelve pages of small print in the Congressional Globe, so I am going to try to be selective. But the opening paragraphs are worth a separate post.

Henry Clay opened his effort by addressing the President of the Senate – none other than Millard Fillmore:

Mr. President, never, on any former occasion, have I risen under feelings of such deep solicitude. I have witnessed many periods of great anxiety, of peril, and of danger even to the country; but I have never before arisen to address any assembly so oppressed, so appalled, so anxious.

And, sir, I hope it will not be out of place to do here what again and again I have done in my private chamber – to implore of Him who holds the destinies of nations and individuals in his hands to bestow upon our country his blessings – to bestow upon our people all his blessings – to calm the violence and rage of party – to still passion – to allow reason once more to resume its empire. And may I now ask of Him, to bestow upon his humble servant, now before Him, the blessings of his smiles, of strength, and of ability, to perform the work which lies before him.

Sir, I have said that I have witnessed other anxious periods in the history of our country; and if I were to mention – to trace to their original source – the cause of all our present dangers and difficulties, I should ascribe them to the violence of party spirit. We have had testimony of this in the progress of this session, and Senators, however they may differ in other matters, concur in acknowledging the existence of that cause in originating the unhappy differences which prevail throughout the country upon this subject of the institution of slavery.

Parties, in their endeavors to obtain the one the ascendency over the other, catch at every passing and floating plank, in order to add strength and power to themselves. We have been told by two honorable Senators, [John P. Hale of New Hampshire and Samuel S. Phelps of Vermont] that the parties at the North have each in its turn, wooed and endeavored to obtain the assistance of a small party called Abolitionists, in order that the scale in its favor might preponderate over its adversaries. Let us look wherever we may, we see too many indications of the existence of the spirit and intemperance of party.

It's hard to know what to make of Clay's diagnosis that “the violence of party spirit” was the “originating” “cause” of the country's differences over slavery. While it is true that rivalry between the Democrats and Whigs sometimes heightened tensions over slavery, it is hard to believe that so astute a student of the American political scene as Henry Clay believed that the Second Party System lay at the heart of the problem. The Wilmot Proviso had revealed sectional fissures that threatened to transcend party differences and to create a new alignment that would overwhelm party identity.

Did Henry Clay really believe, then, that parties were the core problem? I suppose it is possible. The alternative – that parties could not control the discord – might simply have been too frightening to contemplate. But it is also possible to see this as another example of the indirection that I have detected in Clay's method of argument. By characterizing the problem as one of party, perhaps Clay was hoping to remind his auditors that their traditional party affiliations, and not their sectional affiliations, should define their identities. Those party affiliations were or should be defined by their positions on issues such as a national bank, tariffs and internal improvements. It was incumbent on members of both parties, which transcended section, to insure that sectional differences did not make them irrelevant.

"And what, Mr. President, do you suppose it is?"

Henry Clay concluded his speech of January 29, 1850 introducing his compromise resolutions by stirring the patriotic feelings of his auditors. He did so by invoking that great symbol of the Union, George Washington. And he invoked Washington by “relating an incident, a thrilling incident” that was both improbable and calculated to encourage his listeners to suspend their disbelief.

That very morning, Clay related, a man came to his room. Unaware that Clay was just about to give a speech seeking to save the Union, the man offered him an object that he described as “a precious relic.”

He then drew out of his pocket, and presented to me, the object which I now hold in my hand.

Here Clay dramatically thrust out his hand. Addressing Vice President Millard Fillmore, Clay continued:

And what, Mr. President, do you suppose it is?

It is a fragment of the coffin of Washington – a fragment of that coffin in which now repose in silence, in sleep, and speechless, all the earthly remains of the venerated Father of his Country.

Was it portentious that it should have thus been presented to me? Was it a sad presage of what might happen to that fabric which Washington's virtue, patriotism, and valor established?

No, sir, no. It was a warning voice, coming from the grave to the Congress now in session to beware, to pause, to reflect before they lend themselves to any purposes which shall destroy that Union which was cemented by his exertion and example.

Sir, I hope an impression may be made on your mind, such as that which was made on mine by the reception of this precious relic.

A brief coda followed:

And, in conclusion, I now ask every Senator, I entreat you, gentlemen, in fairness and candor, to examine the plan of accommodation which this series of resolutions proposes, and not to pronounce against them until convinced after a thorough examination.

This site suggests it is conceivable that Clay was given a fragment of George Washington's coffin – or at least that such fragments or purported fragments existed and were in circulation:

George Washington Purported Coffin Fragment and Memorabilia. Including a photograph of his tomb, a colored engraving, card with Washington's coat of arms, overall: 15 1/2" x 16" (sight), matted together and framed, Together With a photograph of a group outside his tomb, 8" x 10". When George Washington was originally buried, his body was placed in a wooden casket which was then placed in a closed vault. In 1837, his body was removed from the wooden casket and re-interred in a new marble sarcophagus. The exhumation was witnessed by a number of neighbors and celebrities of the day. The old wooden casket was broken into pieces and presented to those in attendance. This piece, measuring 1 1/2 " x 3/4 " x 3/4 ", is attached to a newspaper clipping (c. 1837) and is mounted with prints of Washington and his gravesite. The newspaper article reads: Some of Washginton's Coffin [From the Milledgeville (Ga.) Union and Recorder]." We held in our hand yesterday a piece of the black walnut coffin in which George Washington, the "Father of His Country" was buried. It was in the possession of H.V. Sanford and about the size of a woman's hand. Mrs. General John W.W. Sanford, formerly of this society, was a lady of great refinement and cultivation, a great traveler, and of fine education. She was present when Washington's coffin was exhumed and procured several pieces of the coffin much larger then [sic] the one handled yesterday, which are now in the possession of a sister of H.V. Sanford. The pieces are about half an inch in thickness, and on account of age, and the many years that they were in the ground, are very light."

"Whose house is that?"

After outlining his compromise resolutions individually on January 29, 1850, Henry Clay then discussed his proposed “scheme of arrangement and accommodation” as a whole. Clay maintained that his “project contains about an equal amount of concession and forbearance on both sides.” His remarks, however, were addressed almost exclusively to those “[a]t the North.”

It is not clear (to me at least), however, that this means that Clay anticipated stiffer resistance to his proposals from northerners than from southerners. Clay positioned himself as a southerner attempting to explain to northerners why concessions on slavery-related issues were matters of life and death to southerners living amidst slaves. It strikes me that this might well have been Clay’s way of trying to convince southerners that his proposals did offer them adequate protection.

In making his appeal, Clay contrasted the importance of slavery to the north and to the south. To the north, Clay maintained, antislavery was “[a]n abstraction, a sentiment.” To northerners, the issue was “sentiment, sentiment, sentiment alone”, “a sentiment without sacrifice, a sentiment without danger, a sentiment without hazard, without peril, without loss.”

But to the south, slavery was central to “the social fabric, life, and all that makes life dear”:

In the first place, sir, there is a vast and incalculable amount of property to be sacrificed, and to be sacrificed, not by your [northerners] sharing in the common burdens, but exclusive of you. And this is not all. The social intercourse, habit, safety, property, life, everything, is at hazard in a greater or less degree in the slave States.

To the south, northern threats to slavery were a matter of life and death. Clay conjured up lurid images of death and destruction in the south while northerners remained “safely housed, enjoying all the blessings of domestic comfort, peace, and quiet in the bosom of their own families”:

Behold, Mr. President, that dwelling-house now wrapped in flames. Listen, sir, to the rafters and beams which fall in succession, amid the crash; and the flames ascending higher and higher as they tumble down. Behold those women and children who are flying from the calamitous scene, and with their shrieks and lamentations imploring the aid of high Heaven.

Whose house is that? Whose wives and children are they? Yours in the free States? No. You are looking on in safety and security, whilst the conflagration which I have described is raging in the slave States, and produced, not intentionally by you, but produced from the inevitable tendency of the measures which you have adopted, and which others have carried far beyond what you have wished.

"Congress has no power to prohibit or obstruct . . ."

The eighth and final compromise resolution that Henry Clay introduced on January 29, 1850 is the least well known. It generally gets only a passing reference, at most. This is, presumably, because it neither proposed nor resulted in the passage of legislation. It merely declared that Congress had no power to “prohibit or obstruct” the interstate slave trade:

8th. Resolved, That Congress has no power to prohibit or obstruct the trade in slaves between the slaveholding States; but that the admission or exclusion of slaves brought from one into another of them, depends exclusively upon their own particular laws.

The resolution was presumably intended to reassure the south that, despite the 5th and 6th resolutions (which held that Congress had the power to regulate the slave trade in the District of Columbia and strongly implied that Congress had the power to abolish slavery there as well), Clay was not suggesting that Congress had similar power over the interstate slave trade under the Commerce Clause.

Clay's remarks on the resolution were brief. The resolution, he declared, “merely asserts a truth, established by the highest authority of law in this country, and in conformity with that decision I trust there will be one universal acquiescence.” Indeed, Clay maintained, the resolution was probably unnecessary,

but that I thought it might be useful in treating of the whole subject, and in accordance with the practice of our British and American ancestors, occasionally to resort to great fundamental principles, and bring them freshly and manifestly before our eyes, from time to time, to avoid their being violated upon any occasion.

Clay's allusion to “the highest authority of law in this country” must be a reference to the Supreme Court. He seems to have had a particular decision in mind, but I don't know what it was. If you do, please enlighten me in the comments!

"I have not now occasion to add another word"

In his remarks of January 29, 1850, Henry Clay next turned to the issue of fugitive slaves. His seventh resolution provided:

7th. Resolved, That more effectual provisions ought to be made by law, according to the requirement of the Constitution, for the restitution and delivery of persons bound to service or labor in any State, who may escape into any other State or Territory in the Union.

Although the law that would eventually result would become flashpoint of conflict, Clay's statement in support of his resolution was exceedingly brief. The resolution related “to a subject embraced in a bill now under consideration by the Senate.” “I have not now occasion to add another word.”

About the illustration:

A sheet music cover illustrated with a portrait of prominent black abolitionist Frederick Douglass as a runaway slave. Douglass flees barefoot from two mounted pursuers who appear across the river behind him with their pack of dogs. Ahead, to the right, a signpost points toward New England. The cover's text states that "The Fugitive's Song" was "composed and respectfully dedicated, in token of confident esteem to Frederick Douglass. A graduate from the peculiar institution. For his fearless advocacy, signal ability and wonderful success in behalf of his brothers in bonds. (and to the fugitives from slavery in the) free states & Canadas by their friend Jesse Hutchinson Junr." As the illustration suggests, Douglass himself had escaped from slavery, fleeing in 1838 from Maryland to Massachusetts. He achieved considerable renown for his autobiography "Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass," first published in 1845. The Library's copy of "The Fugitive's Song" was deposited for copyright on July 23, 1845. An earlier abolitionist song composed by Hutchinson, "Get Off the Track!" (no. 1844-14), also used a cover illustration to amplify its message.

"Who is there who is not shocked at its enormity?"

In his remarks of January 29, 1850, Henry Clay next introduced his fifth and sixth compromise resolutions, which, “like the third and fourth [the two Texas resolutions], are somewhat connected together.” These concerned slavery and the slave trade within the District of Columbia:

5th. Resolved, That it is inexpedient to abolish slavery in the District of Columbia, whilst that institution continues to exist in the State of Maryland, without the consent of that State, without the consent of the people of the District, and without just compensation to the owners of slaves within the District.

6th. Resolved, That it is expedient to prohibit within the District the slave-trade, in slaves brought into it from States or places beyond the limits of the District, either to be sold therein a merchandise, or to be transported to other markets without the District of Columbia.

Before turning to Clay's remarks, a couple of points are worth noting. First, several aspects of the Fifth resolution were bound to be controversial. Northerners, of course, would be unhappy that slavery was proposed to be retained in the District. But southerners would be unhappy too. The major problem was that the resolution described abolition in the District as “inexpedient” but possible under certain conditions. That is, it conceded that Congress had the power under the Constitution to abolish slavery. In addition, some might reasonably ask – What happened to Virginia? The resolution listed the consent of Maryland as a prerequisite to abolition in the District. Why not Virginia?

Likewise, the sixth resolution was subject to attack from both sides. Southerners would complain that Congress had no power to limit the slave trade at all. But northerners would no doubt focus on the extremely limited nature of the restriction. Residents could continue to buy and sell slaves in the District. The resolution prohibited, in effect, only the operations of commercial slave traders.

Clay, presumably concerned about southern objections, emphasized the limited nature of the restriction in his speech. To assuage northern concerns, he disingenuously tried to characterize the exemption of individual sales as a humanitarian provision. At the same time, he attempted both to enlist southern support and reassure northerners by affirming that southerners detested the slave trade every bit as much as northerners did (citing none other than his arch enemy John Randolph of Roanoke):

I do not mean by that [the slave trade] the alienation and transfer of slaves from the inhabitants within this District – the sale by one neighbor to another of a slave which the one owns and the other wants, that a husband may perhaps be put along with his wife, or a wife with her husband.

I do not mean to touch at all the question of the right of property in slaves amongst persons living within the District; but the slave trade to which I refer was, I think, pronounced an abomination more than forty years ago, by one of the most gifted and distinguished sons of Virginia, the late Mr. [John] Randolph [of Roanoke].

And who is there who is not shocked at its enormity? Sir, it is a great mistake at the North, if they suppose that gentlemen living in the slave States look upon one who is a regular trader in slaves with any particular favor or kindness. They are often – sometimes unjustly, perhaps – excluded from social intercourse. I have known some memorable instances of this sort.

Clay also referred indirectly to the justification he would likely provide for not including the consent of Virginia as a prerequisite to the abolition of slavery in the District: Virginia's portion of the District had been retroceded to it:

But, then, what is this trade? It is a good deal limited since the retrocession of the portion of the District formerly belonging to Virginia.

There are Alexandria, Richmond, Petersburg, and Norfolk south of the Potomac, and Baltimore, Annapolis and perhaps other ports north of the Potomac. Let the slave-dealer, who chooses to collect his slaves in Virginia and Maryland, go to these places; let him not come here and establish his jails and put on his chains, and sometimes shock the sensibilities of our nature by a long train of slaves passing through the avenue leading from this Capitol to the house of the Chief Magistrate of one of the most glorious Republics that ever existed.

Why should he not do it? Sir, I am sure I speak the sentiments of every Southern man, and every man coming from the slave States, when I say let it terminate, and it is an abomination; that there is no occasion for it; it ought no longer to be tolerated.