Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig

On Armistice Day, it seems appropriate to point out this article on a new biography of Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig: Field Marshal Douglas Haig would have let Germany win, biography says:

The one constant belief has been in Haig’s unswerving pursuit of a final and complete victory. It is also inaccurate, Dr Harris said. In the final month of the war Haig “seemed to lose faith in his ability to conclusively defeat the German armies and thought it was necessary to offer them very moderate ceasefire terms followed by a moderate peace that may indeed have left Germany with many of its ill-gotten gains in Eastern Europe.” Haig did not even expect the Germans to disarm – they would be left with a full complement of weapons, including artillery.

The Anti-Rent Era

Although I'm working on James Madison, I made the mistake of picking up Charles McCurdy's The Anti-Rent Era in New York Law and Politics 1839-1865 today. What a great, great book. Very dense -- I recommend it only if you're deeply interested in the era. But if you are, the book does an excellent job of immersing you in the politics and worldviews of Whigs and Democrats in a particular state, New York, and providing a close-up examination of the interaction between state and national political and economic developments.

Thanks, Sean!

About the illustration:

A satire on the Democrats' defeat in the fall [1838] New York state elections, here viewed as a referendum on Van Buren's independent treasury, or "Sub-treasury" system. A large ball labeled "Sub Treasury" is pushed down a hill by successful Whig gubernatorial candidate William H. Seward, who says, "A long push, a strong push, and a push all together, and down goes Tyranny and Oppression!" He is assisted by three other men whose arms are linked, one of whom holds a banner with the Whig motto "Preserve Credit and Commerce." Inside the ball is a sleeping Van Buren, who exclaims, "I must be dreaming, for it seems to me, I am going down hill!" The ball rolls onto New York Democratic incumbent governor William Marcy, wearing a uniform with a "50 cents" trouser patch (See "Executive Marcy and the Bambers," no. 1838-5), and several other men, including Missouri senator Thomas Hart Benton. Benton cries, "Push Governor; or down you goes!" Another holds a flag with the words "Trades Union" and cries "Lord ha! Marcy upon us!" In the lower left a crowd of workingmen applaud the scene. Among them are a farmer, a seaman, and a driver or husbandman who waves his hat and says, "Huzza! for the Empire State, she has sent the Ball rolling back again, in double quick time!"

The Deep Ocean: A Ribbon of Life

I haven't mentioned TED in a while. What a great site. Here's David Gallo talking on "The deep ocean: a ribbon of life."

"Hens set"

I can't resist one more Isaac Bassett story, a wonderful little recollection about Senator Thomas Hart Benton:

Benton, he took a prominent part in the deliberation of the Senate. Few public measures were discussed that he did not participate in. He was distinguished for his iron will. As a public speaker, he was not interesting. Senator Benton was the author of the expunging resolution, which I was an [eye]witness to in the Senate. He was distinguished for his learning, he had a practical mind and a strong memory. As a public speaker he was not interesting, but his speeches were read with great interest and his influence was widely felt.

I remember on one occasion when I was quite a boy, he wanted to see a friend who was on the floor of the Senate and requested me to find him. I found him and pointed him out on one of the sofas. I made use of the word “setting,” instead of “sitting.” He stopped and put his hand on my head and said, “My boy, don’t say that again, hens set.”

About the illustration:

A caricature of Missouri senator Thomas Hart Benton, as an insect rolling a large ball "Expunging Resolution" uphill toward the Capitol. The print employs Benton's own metaphor of rolling a ball for his uphill campaign to have a March 1834 Senate censure of then-President Andrew Jackson stricken from the Senate journal. The censure had condemned Jackson's removal of federal deposits from the Bank of the United States as exceeding the President's constitutional power. In the cartoon Benton says, "Solitary and alone and amidst the jeers and taunts of my opponents I put this Ball in motion." The quotation comes from Benton's 1834 speech given in the Senate, stating his intention to move to expunge the censure. Benton's campaign earned him scorn from the opposition and, initially, little support from friends of the administration. But his resolution was finally passed in January 1837. The cartoon must have appeared shortly after the successful vote, for the ball is inscribed with a "List of the Black Knights," which names the twenty-four senators who voted for the resolution.

The Head of Preston Brooks's Cane

I’ve really enjoyed looking around the website devoted to Isaac Bassett and his unpublished recollections concerning his sixty-four years of service in the Senate (1831-1895). Here’s another account that grabbed my attention.

Although the Senate was not in session when Rep. Preston Brooks attacked Senator Charles Sumner, Bassett was in the Senate chamber when Brooks entered on May 22, 1856. As a result, Bassett was an eyewitness to ensuing events:

I witness[ed] the attack on Senator Sumner by Mr. Brooks of South Carolina in 1856. Sumner was sitting in his seat, addressing the speech to his constituents when Mr. Brooks approached him from the front aisle (this was on the 22 of May) and said, “I have come over from the House to chastise you for the remarks that you made. I have read your speech, it is a libel on South Carolina and against my relative Senator Butler.” At the same time raising his cane, and struck him three time [sic] on the head. Mr. Sumner arose from his seat and made an effort to take hold of Mr. Brooks, but the last blow brought him to the floor. It was all done in a minute. As soon as he fell Senator Cass, myself and Arthur Gorman and several lifted him up, and we led him out to the Reception Room of the Senate. I got towels and a basin of water. Washed his head. He walked back down to the front door of the Capitol, got a hack, and went to his lodgings. In the meantime, Brooks and his friends, Mr. Edmundson of Virginia and Mr. Keitt of South Carolina, returned to the House. The cane that Mr. Brooks used was broken in small pieces. I have a piece now in my possession. It was a gutta percha cane an inch thick, the cane broke into fragments. It was the speech that Mr. Sumner delivered on the 19 and 20 of May that caused Mr. Brooks to cane him.

Mr. St. John, one of the employees of the Senate, was picking up the loose paper from the floor and picked up the head of Mr. Brooks’ cane. Mr. Douglas then being in the Senate asked him for it. He gave it to him. What Mr. Douglas done with it I never knew.

All of which raises the question: What did Senator Douglas do with the head of Preston Brooks’s cane?

About the illustration:

A dramatic portrayal, clearly biased toward the northern point of view, of an incident in Congress which inflamed sectional passions in 1856. The artist recreates the May 22 attack and severe beating of Massachusetts senator Charles Sumner by Representative Preston S. Brooks of South Carolina. Brooks's actions were provoked by Sumner's insulting public remarks against his cousin, Senator Andrew Pickens Butler, and against Illinois senator Stephen A. Douglas, delivered in the Senate two days earlier. The print shows an enraged Brooks (right) standing over the seated Sumner in the Senate chamber, about to land on him a heavy blow of his cane. The unsuspecting Sumner sits writing at his desk. At left is another group. Brooks's fellow South Carolinian Representative Lawrence M. Keitt stands in the center, raising his own cane menacingly to stay possible intervention by the other legislators present. Clearly no help for Sumner is forthcoming. Behind Keitt's back, concealed in his left hand, Keitt holds a pistol. In the foreground are Georgia senator Robert Toombs (far left) and Illinois senator Stephen A. Douglas (hands in pockets) looking vindicated by the event. Behind them elderly Kentucky senator John J. Crittenden is restrained by a fifth, unidentified man. Above the scene is a quote from Henry Ward Beecher's May 31 speech at a Sumner rally in New York, where he proclaimed, "The symbol of the North is the pen; the symbol of the South is the bludgeon." David Tatham attributes the print to the Bufford shop, and suggests that the Library's copy of the print, the only known example, may have been a trial impression, and that the print may not actually have been released. The attribution to [Winslow] Homer was first made by Milton Kaplan.

"He then jumped on top of one of the desks"

I was looking around for other information about the confrontation between Senators Thomas Hart Benton and Henry S. Foote when I stumbled across a wonderful account by Issac Bassett. Bassett’s life story is itself remarkable: he was appointed as a page in the Senate in 1831, at the age of twelve. He then remained in the Senate in a series of posts – messenger, assistant doorkeeper – for over sixty years, until his death in 1895.

Bassett’s recollection of events on April 17, 1850 includes additional details not found in the Congressional Globe account (emphasis added):

Mr. Benton rose from his seat, threw his chair violently from him [and] made for Mr. Foote. Down the passage he was stopped by Senator Dodge and several other senators. He then jumped on top of one of the desks and laid open his breast and said, “Let him fire! Stand out of the way and let the assassin fire.” In the meantime Mr. Foote had reached the aisle in front of the secretary’s table. Mr. Foote drew his pistol as soon as Mr. Benton made a move towards him. Mr. Foote remained standing in the same position he had taken with his pistol in his hand. My impression was that it was a horse pistol. I was standing very near him. It was certainly a very long one. Mr. Dickinson a senator from New York, asked him to give up the pistol which he did. Mr. Dickinson then locked it up in his desk. Soon after both senators resumed their seats.

Although unrelated, I can’t help pointing out this story, because it features Vice President Fillmore:

In olden times it was fashionable for senators to take snuff. It was the custom to keep a box of snuff on the vice president’s table. The senators would step up to the vice president’s table and take a pinch of snuff. It seemed to be a part of the senatorial dignity but soon after Mr. Fillmore was vice president, during the morning hour, when so many senators rise to offer petitions, the senators annoyed him so much that he called me up to him and said, “Bassett I want you to take this snuff box away from this table. I cannot understand what is going on in the Senate on account of the conversation of senators who come here to get a pinch of snuff. You must get some other place for it.” I suggested that on each side of the Senate there be placed a snuff box. “That is just the thing, go and have it done.” It has been done ever since. On each side of the Chamber there is secured to the walls a comely black snuff box.

For those interested, the summary of the illustration at the top is as follows:

Senators Thomas Hart Benton and Henry S. Foote are paired here in a facetious farewell scene, as Benton departs the "Shop of the Senate." In reality Benton lost his Senate seat in a January 1851 election, largely because of his refusal to honor the Missouri Resolutions on Slavery (also known as the Jackson-Napton Resolutions of 1849). He charged that the resolutions were engineered by John C. Calhoun, Foote, and a few other Senate foes. Benton's term ended on March 3. In the center stands Benton dressed as a ragged Irishman, a stock character common in Yankee theatre productions of the New York stage at the time. He smokes a cigar, and stands near a mangy donkey which is laden with saddle, pack, and whip, a bundle marked "Life & Times of Thos H. Benton [bound] for California" at his feet. His California destination has several possible explanations. It may be an oblique allusion to Benton's antislavery stance, as Benton was embroiled in the dispute during his last Senate term, on the admission of California to the Union as a free state. He was also a prominent advocate of a transcontinental railroad. Also likely is the artist's association of the recent California Gold Rush with Benton's career-long bullionist ideology. Benton looks left and shakes the hand of Foote, who is dressed as a New York fireman or street tough, with a visored cap and boots. Foote: "So, yer goin ter leave us, ha Benton? well if I had my Pocket Hankercher about me I'de cry." Benton: "Thank yer Foote! any other time will do, the fact is I won't work in no Shop where the Boss is all the time a findin fault with me work, & the Fellers in the Shop is all the time a Laughin at me." At the far left Calhoun and two others watch from a window with the sign "Cabinet Work." Weitenkampf dates the print 1850. But it is unlikely that it appeared long before the March 3, 1851, expiration of Benton's term in the Senate.

Senate Chamber 1850

I may have been wrong. In the this illustration, a larger version of which may be accessed here, the portrait appears to be that of George Washington.

Senate Chamber 1848

You can access a larger image of the above illustration, showing the Senate Chamber in 1848, by going here.

On the wall at the center top, above what I assume is the President's chair, there is a picture. Any idea who it is? It looks like John Adams to me, which would make sense, since he was the first President of the Senate.

"There was not any danger on foot at all"

The cartoon/illustration that prompted this series of posts, A Scene in Uncle Sam’s Senate, shows Henry Clay punning on the incident, “It’s a ridiculous matter, I apprehend there is no danger on foot.” In fact, Henry Clay did not speak the words – another, less well-known senator did.

The Congressional Globe shows where the cartoonist got the idea. As order was being restored shortly after Senator Foote pulled a pistol on Benton, Senator John P. Hale of Vermont demanded an investigation of the incident. Hale, an adamant Free Soiler and opponent of the Omnibus, presumably hoped that an investigation would distract the Senate and tend to make compromise less likely.

In response, freshman Senator Solon Borland, Democrat of Arkansas, then rose. Borland took the position that the incident was “a very ridiculous affair” that warranted no further attention. In the process of his brief speech, Senator Borland, consciously or unconsciously, included in his remarks a pun on Senator Foote’s name, which the cartoonist later transferred, with only minor alteration, to Senator Clay’s lips:

Mr. BORLAND. So far from thinking it so serious a matter that the Senate are called upon to take notice of it, I think it a very ridiculous affair, of which the Senate should rather feel ashamed, and say as little about as possible. I am a young member of the Senate, and one perhaps of the least experience, but to my mind there was not any danger on foot at all.

"So help me God, such alone was my intention"

Before reading the Congressional Globe description of the events that took place on April 17, 1850, I had assumed that Senator Henry S. Foote was the aggressor. After all, southerner legislators tended to be proud and violent when insulted or challenged – just look at what Rep. Preston Brooks did a few years later to Charles Sumner. Foote himself was not a stranger to dueling and violence. In this case, he had pulled out a pistol on the Senate floor and threatened another Senator with it! What excuse could there be for that?

A pretty good one, it turns out. “Old Bullion” Benton was a bear of a man, had a history of violence, and was known as a crack shot. In 1813, before he became Andrew Jackson’s fast friend and political ally, Benton and his brother Jesse were involved in a wild melee in downtown Nashville with Jackson and others that involved guns, knives, swords and knuckles. In the brawl, Jesse shot and nearly killed Andrew Jackson himself.

Four years later, Benton fought two duels with a lawyer by the name of Charles Lucas. In the first match, Benton shot Lucas in the neck, and rumors circulated that Benton had deliberately set the rules to take advantage of his superior marksmanship. In the second, Benton shot Lucas dead.

The slightly-built Foote might well have been alarmed when he saw Benton striding down the aisle toward him. The description of Foote’s actions by the Congressional Globe reporter makes clear that Foote was retreating down the aisle, away from Benton. The fact that Foote later disputed the term “retreating” only highlights the fact that that was exactly what he was doing.

Turning to Benton, it is noteworthy that he did not deny that he had been advancing menacingly on Foote. His entire defense was that he had no gun:

Mr. BENTON. We are not going to get off in this way. A pistol has been brought here to assassinate me. The scoundrel had no reason to think I was armed, for I carry nothing of the kind, sir.

***

Mr. BENTON. Nothing of the kind, sir. It is a false imputation. I carry nothing of the kind, and no assassin has a right to draw a pistol on me.

SEVERAL SENATORS. “Order,” “order.”

Mr. BENTON. It is a mere pretext of the assassin. Will the Senate take notice of it, or shall I be forced to take notice of it by going and getting a weapon myself. A pistol has been brought here and drawn upon me by an assassin.

***

Mr. BENTON. I have done nothing upon God Almighty’s earth to authorize any man to charge me with a breach of the peace, and I will rot in jail before I will give a promise admitting that the charge is true. I regret nothing. It is lying and cowardly to undertake to impute to me the bearing of arms here, in order to justify the use of them upon me. I have done nothing, and I will rot in jail before I will give a promise which admits, by implication, that I have been guilty of a breach of the peace.

The theatricality of Benton’s oratory as soon as he saw the gun (“I have no pistols!” “Let him fire!” etc.) suggests that he knew he was in little danger and immediately had the presence of mind to milk the scene for everything it was worth. Is it unfair to wonder whether Benton advanced on Foote knowing that Foote had a weapon and hoping that Foote would reach for it?

Finally, Foote’s repeated apologies ring true. Here was no defiant southerner proudly defending his conduct, but a somewhat shaken man trying to explain a panicked reaction (paragraph break added):

Mr. FOOTE. If my presenting a pistol here has been understood as anything except the necessary means of self-defense, after threats of personal chastisement, it is doing me a wrong. I saw him advancing towards me, and I took it for granted he was armed; for had I thought otherwise, I should have stopped to meet him in that narrow alley. But I supposed that he was armed, and therefore I determined to take ground where I could meet him more fairly, and I drew out the pistol and was ready to fire it in self-defense.

I have never sought any man’s life, nor gone in quest of any man with a view of taking his life. No, sir, never. My life has been a defensive one from my boyhood. I mention it, not from the imputations that have been thrown out here, but that all the Senators present and the American public, who may hear of this thing, may be witnesses of the fact, that whilst I was making a perfectly parliamentary speech, threatening language was used, menacing gestures indulged in, and an advance made towards me, with the view, as I supposed, of putting violent designs into effect. I therefore retreated a few steps [notice that Foote admitted that he “retreated”], with a view to get elbow room to act in my own defence, and not to shoot him. So help me God, such alone was my intention.

A few minutes later, Foote added the following:

Mr. FOOTE. I am perfectly cool, and I feel the gravity of the occasion as deeply as others. . . . I have never threatened a human being with personal attacks in my life, and of course I have never executed a threat of that kind in my life. I have never worn arms to make an attack on any person, and have never worn arms at all in the Senate except when menaced, as I was the other day in the Senate with a cudgel. My friends urged upon me that, being diminutive in size and quite feeble in health, I should at least wear arms for my own defence. It was a novel thing to me, for I am not in the habit of doing it, and I put on arms, supposing it possible that I might be attacked after what had occurred, simply for the purpose of defending myself.

Although it is impossible to be sure, on balance I credit Senator Foote’s explanation. Even if he did not think that Benton was armed, he pretty clearly was afraid that Benton was going to beat him to a pulp. At the very least, it is clear that Foote was no Preston Brooks, and this incident was no prelude to the Caning of Sumner.

"Stand out of the way, and let the assassin fire!"

Inspired by the description Ed Darrell found explaining the illustration “Uncle Sam’s Senate,” I found and read the relevant portions of the Congressional Globe for April 17, 1850.

What is most surprising about the confrontation between Democratic Senators Henry S. Foote of Mississippi, and Thomas Hart “Old Bullion” Benton of Missouri on April 17, 1850 is that it seems to have come out of nowhere; the immediate provocation was slight, indeed.

By way of background, earlier in the year Whig Senator Henry Clay had succumbed to pressure from Senator Foote to package Clay’s proposed compromise measures into a single bill. Clay pushed through a proposal to refer the measures to a select Committee of Thirteen, which would draft what would become known as the Omnibus.

Although from a slave state, Benton, a Democrat, detested the pro-slavery radicals. He also detested the Omnibus plan. He therefore proposed an amendment that would give “instructions” to the Committee. One series of instructions basically directed the Committee not to include anything relating to California in any bill the Committee drafted. This, of course, would rob the Committee of a principal reason for its creation: any set of compromise measures had to include a provision or provisions dealing with that state.

Compounding the felony, Benton proposed another set of instructions that effectively barred the Committee from proposing any legislation concerning slavery. Everyone understood that these instructions, if enacted, killed the entire enterprise, and made a mockery of it in the bargain:

Provided, That nothing in this instruction shall be construed to take into consideration anything that relates to either of the four following subjects:
1. The abolition of slavery within the States.
2. The suppression of the slave trade between the States.
3. The abolition of slavery within the forts, arsenals, dock-yards, and navy-yards of the United States.
4. Abolition of slavery within the District of Columbia.
And provided further, That said committee shall not take into consideration any question in relation to the subject of domestic slavery in the United States, which shall not be specifically referred to it by order of the Senate.

There then followed a colloquy on the procedural propriety of the amendment. It appears that Senator Benton had previously offered a similar amendment, presumably when the formation of the Committee was originally debated. The Senate had rejected that earlier amendment.

Senator Joseph R. Underwood, Whig of Kentucky, now presented a “point of order. I think it is out of order to propose these points of instruction, when the Senate have already decided that they will not instruct the committee.” The point of order was referred to Vice President Millard Fillmore, sitting as President of the Senate.

I have seen summaries of the proceedings that state that the Vice President ruled Benton out of order. The Congressional Globe indicates otherwise. The Vice President seems to have ruled that Benton’s earlier amendment was similar to, but not identical to, his present amendment. Therefore, he was not out of order. However, he also ruled that the full Senate had the power to consider the question and decide otherwise. “[T]he question that presents itself is, whether inconsistencies are questions of order . . .. The Chair is of the opinion that the amendment is in order, but it is for the Senate to decide.”

Henry Clay then took the Vice President up on his invitation by melodramatically “appealing” the Vice President’s ruling to the full Senate:

Mr. CLAY. I rise to perform the painful duty of appealing from the decision of the Chair, and I ask the yeas and nays on the question. I do not mean to take up time. My opinion is, that when the Senate has decided that it will not do a given thing, it is out of order for that thing to be proposed to be done, and it is within the province of the Chair to decide it to be out of order.

At that point, Senator Benton rose to deliver a bitter objection. The Vice President’s ruling, and Clay’s appeal, had shifted the question from the proposed amendment itself to the procedural question whether the proposed amendment was out of order. Benton angrily complained that the Vice President’s ruling improperly threatened to cut off debate, contrary to Senate rules and tradition.

In the course of his speech, however, Benton (not unexpectedly) shifted to a defense of the substance of his proposed amendment. In the process, he characterized his amendment as an attempt to expose southern radicals as flim-flam artists (to enhance readability, I have added paragraph breaks):

Sir, I intend by these amendments to cut at the root of all that agitation, and to cut up the whole address of the southern members, by which the country was thrown into a flame. I mean to show that there was no foundation for any such thing; that is, I mean to offer a proposition upon which the votes will show that there has been a cry of “wolf,” when there was no wolf; that the country has been alarmed without reason, and against reason; that there is no design in the Congress of the United States to encroach upon the rights of the South, nor to aggress upon the South, nor to oppress them upon the subject of their institutions.

I propose, sir, to give the Senate an opportunity of showing that all this alarm has been without foundation; and I further propose to give to the people of the United States the highest declaration that can be given upon earth, that they have been disturbed about nothing; and when we come to that part of the question, we will see whether they are abstractions or not; and if these are abstractions, then the country has been alarmed about abstractions.

At this point, Senator Foote began to respond, but yielded the floor to Senator Andrew P. Butler of South Carolina. As one might expect, Senator Butler did not accept Senator Benton’s assertion that the south was crying wolf; the dangers were real:

Sir, the Senator [from Missouri] must see as plainly as I do, that there is a danger – that this thing has progressed to such lengths, that it will be but a feeble palliative to quiet it, to offer a resolution which merely declares that Congress has no right to interfere with slavery in the States; that the South and the whole country is in no danger; and that all of the agitation is caused by the Southern Address.

Then Senator Foote at last took the floor. Foote’s speech strikes me as exceedingly odd. First, Senator Benton’s provocation was not all that great. Yes, his speech accused southern radicals of crying wolf, but neither its tone nor substance was outrageous in the context of the overheated rhetoric of 1850. Moreover, Foote was not a die hard radical. After all, it was he, together with Henry Clay, who was pushing the Omnibus. I can only conclude that, precisely because Foote was something of a moderate, he felt he had to protect himself against claims by southern hard-liners that he was not being sufficiently vigorous in defense of southern rights.

Senator Foote began calmly enough, emphasizing his moderation:

Mr. FOOTE. The Senate will bear witness to the fact that I have endeavored to avoid discussion and controversy on this question. I have believed, and yet believe, that, the time has come when all true patriots should unite in the pure spirit of fraternal conciliation and compromise for the settlement of these questions; and that they should feel it their bounden and imperious duty to do all in their power to quiet excitement, and save the Republic from that danger which all of us do know has environed it for the last six or eight months.

After the jab at Benton in the last clause (“that danger which all of us do know has [existed]”), Foote began to warm to his topic. Benton had defamed him personally and, even worse, he had besmirched the sainted John Calhoun, still warm in his grave! Foote wrapped himself in the flag (as it were) of Calhoun’s “holy” Southern Address (paragraph breaks added):

I repeat, that I did not come here this morning in the expectation of saying a word; and especially would I not be heard referring to anything emanating from a certain quarter, after what has occurred here, but for what I conceive to be a direct attack upon myself and others with whom I am proud to stand associated.

We all know the history of the Southern Address, and the world knows its history. It is the history of the action of a band of patriots, worthy of the highest laudation, and who will be held in veneration when their calumniators, no matter who they may be, will be objects of general loathing and contempt.

Who is the author of the Southern Address? He is known to the world. The late illustrious Senator from South Carolina, whose decease a nation now mourns, and over whose untimely death every good man in all Christian countries, at the present time, is now lamenting – is the author, and the sole author, of that address. In our presence here to-day, in the hearing of the friends of that distinguished statesman associated with him in that holy work, that address is denounced with great appearance of deliberation, as fraught with mischief, and as having supplied food for agitation and excitement which has involved our institutions in dangers . . ..

After continuing in this mode a while longer, Foote then began to confront more directly the source of this infamy:

Those who were associated with and sanctioned that address, are charged with being agitators. And by whom? With whom does such an accusation as this originate? I shall not be personal, after the lesson I have already received here. I intend to be, in a parliamentary sense, perfectly decorous in all things. But by whom is this extraordinary denunciation hurled against all those individuals who subscribed this address? By a gentleman long denominated the oldest member of the Senate – the father of the Senate. By a gentleman who, on a late occasion –

At this juncture, however, Foote broke off his speech, for “the father of the Senate” was at that moment charging – or at least advancing menacingly – down the aisle toward him. Then Foote pulled a pistol, and all hell broke loose.

At this point, the Congressional Globe includes a rare description of events in the Senate chamber:

[Here Mr. FOOTE, who occupies a seat on the outer circle, in front of the Vice President’s chair, retreated backwards down the aisle, towards the chair of the Vice President, with a pistol in his hand. Mr. BENTON, a moment before, having suddenly risen from his seat and advanced by the aisle, outside the bar, towards him, following him into the aisle down which the Senator from Mississippi had retreated. In a moment almost every Senator was on his feet, and calls to “order,” demands for the Sergeant-at-Arms; requests that Senators would take their seats, from the Chair and from individual Senators, were repeatedly made.

Senator Benton clearly recognized a golden opportunity when he saw one, and drew on every ounce of his prodigious theatrical abilities (paragraph break added):

Mr. BENTON was followed and arrested by Mr. [Henry] DODGE, [Democrat] of Wisconsin, and, in the confusion and excitement which prevailed, he was heard to exclaim, from time to time, “I have no pistols!” “Let him fire!” “Stand out of the way!” “I have no pistols!” “I disdain to carry arms!” “Stand out of the way, and let the assassin fire!”

While making these exclamations, Mr. BENTON was brought back to his seat; but, breaking away from Mr. DODGE, of Wisconsin, who sought forcibly to detain him, he advanced again towards Mr. FOOTE, who stood near the Vice President’s chair, on the right-hand side, surrounded by a number of Senators, and others not members of the Senate. Mr. [Daniel S.] DICKINSON [Hardshell Hunker Democrat, New York] took the pistol from the hand of Mr. FOOTE, and locked it up in his desk, and Mr. FOOTE, on the advice of Mr. BUTLER, returned to his seat.]

The next day, apparently after reviewing the reporter’s description of events, Senator Foote sent the reporter “A CARD” to correct “one or two slight inaccuracies” in the description. What is most interesting is that, while Foote wanted to make clear that he was not the aggressor, he also went to great lengths to deny that he “retreated.” The implication seems clear that he was worried that southerners would brand him a coward if they perceived that he had retreated when presented with the onrushing Benton (paragraph breaks added):

Now, as to the “retreat” spoken of, it was simply a movement in a line – which made something like a right angle with the one along which the Senator from Missouri was advancing, I simply glided towards the alley leading from the Secretary’s chair to the door, intending to take a defensive attitude, and then await any assault which might be made. I could not have done otherwise, without, in a certain event, endangering the lives of unoffending persons.

You seem to represent myself as being pursued by my antagonist down a narrow alley. If you allude to the alley along which I walked in order to take my defensive attitude alluded to, you are in error, as the person alluded to did not even reach my seat, nor even get something like half-way from his seat to mine. The fact is, that I neither retreated from, nor advanced upon, the Senator referred to. I simply advanced to a convenient position for purposes of defense.

You say “Mr. DICKINSON took the pistol from the hand of Mr. FOOTE.” This is true, but I would add, that it was cheerfully surrendered on application being made for it, and upon seeing that I was no longer in danger of being assaulted. I regret that I have deemed it necessary to make this explanation, but I did not know how to avoid it.

James Madison

Having recently finished Robert Allen Rutland’s James Madison: The Founding Father, I can’t recommend it except, possibly, to the most die-hard Madison fans.

The fault is probably not Professor Rutland’s. He writes perfectly well, and his mid-length (253 pages of text) biography covers all the basic episodes. The problem, I think, is Madison himself. His life just does not translate readily to the biographical form at reasonable length. To make the important episodes of Madison’s life interesting – or even comprehensible – requires providing a great amount of background information and detail. Want to find out about Madison’s contributions to the Constitutional Convention or the Federalist Papers? That’s a course of study in itself. Want to understand what was important about his service as Secretary of State, or the period of his presidency leading up to the War of 1812? You need to compose a chart recording all the bizarre permutations of embargos, Orders in Counsel and the like that litter the period. (My favorite is Macon’s Bill No. 2.) A brief course on the Napoleonic Wars wouldn’t hurt either. Etc. etc.

In preparation for my upcoming trip Madison’s plantation, Montpelier, I’ve bitten the bullet. Yep, I’ve laid my hands on Ralph Ketcham’s hefty James Madison. About fifty pages in, so far, so good.

Lincoln President-Elect

Chandra Manning reviews Harold Holzer's new Lincoln book, Lincoln President-Elect: Abraham Lincoln and the Great Secession Winter 1860-1861. I'm wary.

Millard Fillmore, Firm Statesman

Among its many other virtues, Mark J. Stegmaier’s Texas, New Mexico, & The Compromise of 1850: Boundary Dispute & Sectional Crisis contains a detailed and balanced discussion of Millard Fillmore’s contributions toward the resolution of the Crisis of 1850.

Professor Stegmaier puts to bed, for example, the misguided notion that Fillmore was no Andrew Jackson or Zachary Taylor. On July 24, Fillmore – in office just over two weeks – selected General Scott “to serve as secretary of war ad interim.” That day, General Scott sent the president a “Memoranda” indicating that about 750 men were on their way to New Mexico and that there were about 650 more troops available to be sent as reinforcements.

Fillmore promptly directed Scott to send the additional men to New Mexico. This would both provide the territory with additional defense against an attack by Texas and place additional pressure on the south to agree to a compromise:

[T]he “Memoranda” . . . revealed . . . that some units remained that could be ordered to New Mexico. Fillmore wanted those soldiers where the threat was. General Scott saw to it that these wishes were carried out at the beginning of August, just after the defeat of the Omnibus. Besides protecting New Mexico, President Fillmore believed that putting more of the army in motion toward New Mexico might help to influence Congress to act.

The president directed this move even though – or perhaps because – it was clearly provocative to the south. Floridians were “particularly incensed” because some of the troops had been stationed in that state to protect against Seminole attacks. Fillmore was accused of protecting “Mexicans and Mongrels” rather than white southerners.

In short, Fillmore’s military actions showed him to be decisive and prepared to use his powers as commander in chief:

Free-soilers and Southern radicals candidly expressed in letters their belief that Millard Fillmore would prove a timid soul, in contrast to Zachary Taylor, in dealing with Texas. Within a few weeks after assuming office, President Fillmore proved otherwise.

Professor Stegmaier also documents the president’s intimate involvement with the preparation of the document that became the presidential message to Congress of August 6, 1850. Daniel Webster, Fillmore’s newly-appointed Secretary of State, probably conceived the idea on August 1 and proposed it to the president on that day or very shortly after.

The president readily agreed and instructed the secretary of state to prepare a draft of the message . . .. Fillmore and other cabinet members held numerous consultation meetings over the next several days to consider and, if necessary, revise the documents. The documents were a team effort, even though Webster mainly wrote the original drafts. Webster insisted that the president revise them to his liking and take nothing simply out of courtesy . . ..

***

[On the morning of August 6, 1850,] Webster personally carried the [final draft of] the message to Fillmore’s office. At nine o’clock on the morning of August 6 a final reading of the documents to Fillmore commenced. Before 11 a.m. the president signed his name to the message and sent the documents off to Congress. Throughout the proceedings of the previous days, Webster had become very favorably impressed with Fillmore’s qualities as a leader; in a letter to his friend Franklin Haven, Webster wrote, “He is a man of business, a man of intelligence, & wide awake.”

And no wonder Webster was impressed. The Message that Congress received on August 6, 1850 was the epitome of statesmanship, firm yet measured. “What the members of the two houses heard . . . was a clear statement of the executive’s constitutional responsibilities to protect New Mexico if Texans attempted to extend their jurisdiction over it by force”:

By the Constitution of the United States, the President is constituted commander-in-chief of the army and navy; and of the militia of the several States, when called into the actual service of the United States. The Constitution declares, also, that he shall take care that the laws be faithfully executed, and that he shall, from time to time, give to the Congress information of the state of the Union.

***

The second section of the twenty-eighth of February, seventeen hundred and ninety-five, declares, that whenever the laws of the United States shall be opposed, or their execution obstructed, in any State, by combinations too powerful to be suppressed by the ordinary course of judicial proceedings, or the power vested in the marshals, the President may call forth the militia, so far as may be necessary, to suppress such combinations, and to cause the laws to be duly executed.

By the act of March 3, 1807, it is provided that in all cases of obstruction to the laws, either of the United States or any individual State or Territory, where it is lawful for the President to call forth the militia for the purpose of causing the laws to be duly executed, it shall be lawful for him to employ, for the same purposes, such part of the land or naval force of the United States as shall be judged necessary.

These several enactments are now in full force; so that if the laws of the United States are opposed or obstructed, in any State or Territory, by combinations too powerful to be suppressed by the judicial or civil authorities, it becomes a case in which it is the duty of the President, either to call out the militia or to employ the military and naval force of the United States, or to do both, if in his judgment the exigency of the occasion shall so require, for the purpose of suppressing such combination.

The constitutional duty of the President is plain and peremptory; and the authority vested in him by law, for its performance, is clear and ample.

Texas is a State authorized to maintain her own laws, so far as they are not repugnant to Constitution, laws, and treaties of the United States, to suppress insurrections against her authority, and to punish those who may commit treason against the State, according to the forms provided by her own constitution and her own laws.

But all this power is local, and confined entirely within the limits of Texas herself. She can possibly confer no authority, which can be lawfully exercised beyond her own boundaries.

All this is plain, and hardly needs argument or elucidation. If Texan militia, therefore, march into any one of the 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; and if within such State or Territory they obstruct any law of the United States, either by power of arms or mere power of numbers, constituting such a combination as is too powerful to be suppressed by the civil authority, the President of the United States has no option left to him, but is bound to obey the solemn injunction of the Constitution, and exercise the high powers vested in him by that instrument, and by the Acts of Congress.

Or, if any civil posse, armed or unarmed, enter into any Territory of the United States, under the protection of the laws thereof, with intent to seize individual to be carried elsewhere for trial for alleged offenses, and this posse be too powerful to be resisted by the local and civil authorities, such seizure or attempt to seize, is to be prevented or resisted by the authority of the United States.

So how, then, does Professor Stegmaier rate President Fillmore’s performance?

[T]he Fillmore administration succeeded in getting Congress to enact a compromise . . .. [Zachary] Taylor did not possess a working relationship with Congress that would have permitted the passage of such a program . . .. Millard Fillmore favored compromise, proved flexible about what form Congress chose to give it, and fostered an atmosphere conducive to compromise. Fillmore’s dignified bearing, his tactfulness, and his long experience in dealing with senators and representatives became invaluable assets in winning the close victory for compromise and continued sectional peace.

A larger version of the illustration may be retrieved here It portrays a scene in the Senate in April 1850. Then Vice President Fillmore may be seen in the center rear, shouting, "Order Gentlemen, Order!" I believe Henry Clay is the tall man toward the right, and I'm guessing that Daniel Webster is at the far right. If you can identify other figures, I'd love to know.

Addendum,

In the comments, Ed Darrell of Millard Fillmore's Bathtub provides the following description of the illustration. Thanks, Ed!

A somewhat tongue-in-cheek dramatization of the moment during the heated debate in the Senate over the admission of California as a free state when Mississippi senator Henry S. Foote drew a pistol on Thomas Hart Benton of Missouri. In the cartoon Benton (center) throws open his coat and defiantly states, "Get out of the way, and let the assassin fire! let the scoundrel use his weapon! I have no arm's! I did not come here to assassinate!" He is attended by two men, one of them North Carolina senator Willie P. Mangum (on the left). Foote, restrained from behind by South Carolina's Andrew Pickens Butler and calmed by Daniel Stevens Dickinson of New York (to whom he later handed over the pistol), still aims his weapon at Benton saying, "I only meant to defend myself!" In the background Vice President Fillmore, presiding, wields his gavel and calls for order. Behind Foote another senator cries, "For God's sake Gentlemen Order!" To the right of Benton stand Henry Clay and (far right) Daniel Webster. Clay puns, "It's a ridiculous matter, I apprehend there is no danger on foot!" Visitors in the galleries flee in panic.

Compromise or Armistice?

In his outstanding book, The Impending Crisis, David M. Potter famously argued that the Compromise of 1850 was not a compromise at all:

Consistently, the preponderant strength of one section opposed the preponderant strength of the other; yet in each case the measure passed. This was because, as [Stephen] Douglas had perceived, there were small blocs of advocates of compromise ready to exert a balance of power. In the Senate, four senators voted for the compromise measures every time, and eight others did so four times while abstaining on a fifth measure; in the House 28 members gave support five times and 35 did so four times out of five.

These facts raise a question of whether the so-called Compromise of 1850 was really a compromise at all. If a compromise is an agreement between adversaries, by which each consents to certain terms desired by the other, and if the majority vote of a section is necessary to register the consent of that section, then it must be said that North and South did not consent to each other’s terms, and that there was really no compromise – a truce perhaps, an armistice, certainly a settlement, but not a true compromise.

Since The Impending Crisis appeared in the 1970s, virtually all historians seem to have endorsed Professor Potter’s observation. I have certainly not conducted a methodical survey, but I cannot recall reading any work discussing the Compromise that has not seconded Potter’s argument, or at least noted it with apparent approval.

Until now, that is. In Texas, New Mexico, & The Compromise of 1850: Boundary Dispute & Sectional Crisis, Mark J. Stegmaier dares to take on the legendary Professor Potter. Professor Stegmaier argues with great effectiveness that the Compromise was more “compromise” than “armistice.” First, Professor Stegmaier points out that the overall result, accepted as it was by majorities of the populace of both sections, did involve give-and-take:

The bills taken together did involve mutual concession, and the great majority, North and South, welcomed the outcome. Southerners accepted California statehood; Northerners generally abided by the new fugitive slave law. The popular sovereignty formula in the territories did not reflect the initial desires of majorities from either North or South but became an agreement that eventually satisfied majorities of both sections . . .. Certainly this represented “compromise” in the true sense.

Professor Stegmaier also points specifically to the bill that settled differences between Texas and New Mexico, which was itself a compromise:

And none of the bills in the 1850 settlement indicated “compromise” more fully than the Texas-New Mexico bill. It passed only after long and bitter struggle, but the final bill involved concession by both North and South. The boundary line of the compromise bill was not what either Texans or promoters of New Mexico had argued for, but it proved acceptable to all once it was passed in Congress. The success of the boundary bill itself evidenced a great deal of “compromise.”

Professor Stegmaier’s book is simply wonderful. If you’re interested in antebellum American history, I recommend it without qualification. Many thanks to Sean Nalty for bringing it to my attention.

Millard Dissed, Again

I’ve been listening to a series of podcasts on American History before 1870 by Gretchen Ann Reilly, a professor at Temple College in Temple, Texas (description here). They’re really quite good. Dr. Reilly has her quirks (“anyways” is not a word), but she does an excellent job organizing large amounts of material and presenting it in a way that is both informative and entertaining. As with most survey courses, you will not encounter shattering insights, but neither will you receive bland pap.

I do, however, have one substantial bone to pick with Professor Reilly. She has bought hook, line and sinker the Johnnie Carson view of our thirteenth president, Millard Fillmore. Apparently pandering to the perceived prejudices and preconceptions of her audience, she portrays our hero as an ineffectual bumbler whose accession only compounded the Crisis of 1850 and certainly did not contribute to the solution:

In the midst of the debate [in 1850], tragedy strikes. The president at this time was president Zachary Taylor. And he was a military man, and he had made it clear that he was going to be like Andrew Jackson when it came to the Nullification Crisis of 1832. Andrew Jackson had insisted that the country stay together, that South Carolina could not just nullify this tariff. Taylor made it clear that he was going to be like Jackson, and that he was going to do whatever had to be done to keep the country together, and to make everybody compromise.

Well, July 9th, 1850, President Zachary Taylor dies. . . . And he’s replaced by his vice president, Millard Fillmore [pronounced with Johnnie Carson-like disdain]. Millard Fillmore, when he assumes the presidency, makes it clear that he is not Andrew Jackson, and that he wants a compromise more favorable to the south. And that just makes it harder to resolve this issue, because southerners surrounding Calhoun dig in their heels and refuse to compromise.

The debate comes to an end, and there’s no compromise worked out. And people around the country are concerned that this is going to be it, that the country will fall apart, that no settlement will be reached.

It’s the end of an era. Clay and Webster and Calhoun, the debate comes to an end, and they’ve failed, and all three men either die, as in the case of Calhoun, or leave Washington and retire from public life without this issue being resolved.

People across the country become concerned that all of these issues regarding slavery won’t be resolved, and that the country will fall apart, that the south will insist on seceding if it doesn’t get its way, and that the north won’t compromise on this, and the country will fall apart.

But a compromise is worked out, the Compromise of 1850, and it’s constructed by younger politicians, who replace these older politicians when they leave, especially a rising young Democrat from Illinois, Stephen Douglas. Douglas is able to get the Compromise through Congress because he takes what was once a whole bill that dealt with all of these issues . . . and he breaks it up . . . into five smaller bills, and that’s how the final compromise is achieved. . . .

This story line is – with all due respect – utter nonsense. I have posted repeatedly on Millard’s sterling performance during the Crisis of 1850 – try here, here and here – and do not propose to rehash all of those entries. To begin with, it’s absurd to claim that “southerners surrounding Calhoun” were quaking in their boots when Zachary Taylor was president, and that Fillmore’s accession caused them to “dig in their heels and refuse to compromise.” Both southern Democrats and many northern Whigs, such as William Seward, fought the Omnibus Bill tooth and nail both before and after Taylor’s death. In retrospect, the Omnibus was never viable, and it died of its own weight.

Second, the attempt to portray the death of the Omnibus as “the end of an era” is grossly overblown. In particular, Professor Reilly somehow overlooks the fact that Daniel Webster did not “leave Washington and retire from public life.” President Fillmore promptly named Webster to be his Secretary of State. Within days after the collapse of the Omnibus, Webster and Fillmore put together an initiative that shifted the focus from California to the crucial Texas issue – an initiative that showed Fillmore to be firm, decisive and resourceful.

I have no problem giving major credit to Senator Douglas, but Professor Reilly’s description makes it sound as if credit should go exclusively to him and other unnamed “younger politicians.” But the fact of the matter is that the Fillmore-Webster initiative, resulting in the president’s message to Congress on August 6, 1850, was the crucial turning point that laid the groundwork for Douglas’s recasting of the Omnibus.

Leading historian of the period such as David Potter and Michael Holt have made clear that they view Fillmore’s presence as crucial to the success of the Compromise and have expressed admiration for the decisiveness and ingenuity that he exhibited. Rather than using Fillmore as an excuse to reinforce preconceived stereotypes, Professor Reilly should have taken the opportunity to explain just how misguided some of our preconceptions can be.

In Which My English Teacher Has Cardiac Arrest

In early March 1788, James Madison, having finished his last contribution to the Federalist Papers, left New York City for Montpelier in order to canvass for election to the Virginia Convention that was to meet to consider whether to ratify the proposed federal constitution. When Madison arrived in Virginia, however, he stopped over at Mount Vernon, and wound up tarrying there for several weeks.

Then, as Robert Allen Rutland tells it, Madison received "a letter from an Orange County friend urging him to hurry home" because an opponent was attacking the Constitution with some success. Madison's correspondent, Joseph Spencer, told him that the attacks were

in such Horred carrecters that the weker clas of people are much predegessed agains it by which meens he has many which as yet, appears grately in favour of him.

My old English teacher would be appalled. Poor Mr. Spencer can't even spell "favor" correctly.

I Weep for My Country

. . . that the presidential candidate of a major political party is not repulsed by the thought of associating with a man who would contemplate such horrors.

More here.

Guess the President

Extra credit if you identify the writer (pictured above):

The next day after my arrival I visited the President, accompanied by some Democratic members. In a few moments after our arrival, a tall, high-boned man came into the room. He was dressed, or rather undressed, in an old brown coat, red waistcoat, old corduroy small clothes much soiled, woollen hose, and slippers without heels. I thought him a servant, when General Varnum surprised me by announcing that it was the President.

Consequential Non-Election Presidential Successions

The American Presidents Blog posted recently about consequential presidential elections. Which got me thinking: what about consequential presidential successions that were not the result of elections – i.e., due to the death or resignation of the incumbent.

The candidates are:

William Henry Harrison – John Tyler
Zachary Taylor – Millard B. Fillmore
Abraham Lincoln – Andrew Johnson
James A. Garfield – Chester A. Arthur
William McKinley – Theodore Roosevelt
Warren G. Harding – Calvin Coolidge
Franklin D. Roosevelt – Harry S. Truman
John F. Kennedy – Lyndon B. Johnson
Richard M. Nixon – Gerald Ford

What’s amazing is how consequential so many of these successions were. You wouldn’t think that would be the case. After all, the incoming president is a member of the same party as, and often picked by, his successor.

But consider:

Harrison/Tyler – It is inconceivable to me that Harrison would have stirred up the Texas hornet nest as Tyler did. Texas would not have been admitted in 1845. No James K. Polk? No Mexican War? No Wilmot Proviso? Etc. etc. etc.

Taylor/Fillmore – As I have discussed on a number of occasions, but for Taylor’s death and Fillmore’s accession there is significant doubt whether the Compromise of 1850 would have passed. War breaks out between the United States and Texas in 1850 or 1851? Leading to a broader war in which slave states line up with Texas?

Lincoln/Johnson – Would a Radical Republican Congress have composed the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments if Lincoln had lived? What form would Reconstruction have taken?

Kennedy/Johnson – I tend to think that Kennedy would have gotten drawn into Vietnam as Johnson did. But even so, it is hard to conceive the Great Society under Kennedy.

Other speculations are welcome!