THE ELECTION OF 1860
Now came on the battle in the Presidential convention. The Democratic
convention was dramatic and momentous. It met at Charleston, S. C., in
the last days of April, 1860. The struggle was between Douglas and the
extreme South. The contest was not over the nomination, but on the
resolutions. The Douglas party proposed the reaffirmation of the
Cincinnati platform of 1856, of which the kernel lay in the words:
"Non-intervention by Congress with slavery in State or Territory"; and
to this they would now add only a clause referring doubtful
constitutional points to the Supreme Court. But the Southern party would
accept nothing short of an affirmation that in the Territories until
organized as States, the right of slave-holding was absolute and
indefeasible, and Congress was bound to protect it. On this issue the
dispute in the convention was obstinate and irreconcilable.
The South had long held unbroken sway in the Democracy and in the
nation. It had absolutely controlled the last two administrations,
though headed by Northern men. Its hold on the Senate had been unbroken,
and temporary successes of the Republicans in the House had borne no
fruit. The Supreme Court had gone even beyond the demands of the South.
Only in Kansas had its cause been lost, because the attempt to coerce a
whole territorial population had at last provoked revolt in the Northern
Democracy. The breach had been in some sort healed, but the leader of
the revolt was not forgiven or trusted. Meantime the alarm at John
Brown's raid had intensified the South's hostility to all opponents or
critics. All through the winter there had been constant expulsion of
anti-slavery men from that section. And now the Southern forces mustered
in the convention of the party they had so long controlled, insistent
and imperious, rejecting anything short of the fullest affirmation of
their claims in the territories.
Douglas was not on the ground, but through his lieutenants, and still
more through the spirit he had infused into his followers, he was a
great and decisive power. In the Senate he had been almost isolated
among the Democrats; of late only Senator Pugh of Ohio had stood with
him against the administration. But he had appealed to the people, and
they had answered the call of the sturdy, audacious leader. However he
might at times court the favor of the South, he really stood for a broad
and simple principle,--the right of the majority of white men to rule.
For the negroes he cared nothing. But, in the territories, the majority
of white men should have slavery or not as they pleased. In the
Democratic party, the majority should control. And, in the last resort,
in the nation itself the majority should rule. Douglas thus stood
squarely for the rule of the majority within the white race. The
Republicans coupled with the supremacy of the legal majority in the
nation the right and obligation of the majority to maintain the personal
freedom of the negro, except where the Constitution allowed the States
to maintain slavery. The Southern Democracy asserted as its paramount
principle the right of slave-holding wherever the flag flew, except
where the State constitution forbade. If that right was denied or
limited--by a majority in the Democracy, or by a majority in the
nation--then beware!
The Douglas men met the threat with a defiance,--not wordy, but
resolute. In Charleston, the stronghold and citadel of the South, with
their leader absent, with the disruption of the party impending, they
stood their ground. The majority should rule, or they would know the
reason why! They decisively outvoted their opponents as to the platform.
Then the delegates from South Carolina and the Gulf States deliberately
and solemnly marched out of the hall, and organized a separate
convention. With that act the rift began to open which was to be closed
only after four years of war.
With what expectation did the extreme South thus break up the party? Did
they believe that their Northern associates would again capitulate, as
they had done so often before? Failing that, did they not know that a
divided Democracy meant victory for the Republicans? and had they not
committed themselves in that event to dissolve the Union? Were they
deliberately courting disunion, and wilfully throwing away the large
chance of continued dominance within the Union which a united Democracy
might have? Did they really attach supreme importance to this dogma
about the territories, when Kansas had shown how inevitably the local
population must determine the question, even against the efforts of the
Federal Government? Did the Southern leaders prefer the election of a
Republican, their open opponent, to Douglas, their friend and half-ally?
To such questions as these there can be little more than a conjectural
answer. It would be most interesting to know the true thoughts and
purposes of the leading delegates. We shall see a little later the
interpretation given by one of their defenders. But the strong
presumption is that their action was the fruit less of a policy than of
a temper. They had long been growing into a disposition which could
brook no resistance and no contradiction. The irresponsible power of the
master over his slaves; the domination of the slave-holding class over
the local communities, and the expulsion of their opponents; the control
of the government by a united South over a divided North,--these things
had bred a self-confidence and self-assertion which would stop at
nothing. The slave-holding principle, in full flower, was a principle
which recked nothing of legal majorities or governments. Its basis was
force, and it would use whatever force was necessary to maintain itself.
The Douglas Democrats were still patient. Left with the original
convention in their hands, they declined to press their advantage. The
traditional rule required a two-thirds vote to nominate; and it was
agreed that for this purpose the seats left vacant by the seceders must
be counted,--which would prevent the nomination of Douglas.
Administration men from the North had stayed in the convention when
their Southern friends left. The body adjourned, to meet in Baltimore in
the last of June. The rival convention met in Richmond only to adjourn
to the same time and place. But any hopes of reunion were vain. Neither
side would yield. In the regular convention, to some of the vacant seats
Douglas delegates had in the interim been chosen. They were admitted,
against the protest of the administration minority, who found in this a
pretext for withdrawing and joining the seceding convention. With these
went a majority of the Massachusetts delegates, including Benjamin F.
Butler and Caleb Cushing; Cushing had been president of the Charleston
body. The two conventions now made their respective nominations. With
Douglas was joined for Vice-President Herschel V. Johnson of Georgia.
The seceders nominated John C. Breckinridge of Kentucky and Joseph Lane
of Oregon. Breckinridge was Vice-President under Buchanan; a man of
character and ability, of fine presence and bearing, a typical
Kentuckian, afterward a general in the Confederate service.
Alexander H. Stephens in his _War Between the States_--perhaps the best
statement of the Southern side of the whole case that has ever been
made,--says that this secession from the party was made (against his own
judgment) not recklessly, nor to provoke disunion, but with the
expectation of electing Breckinridge. The calculation was that with four
Presidential candidates there would be no choice by the people, and, the
election being thrown into the House, Breckinridge would be chosen; or,
if the House could not choose, Lane would surely be elected by the
Senate. This, says Stephens, was the view of President Buchanan, of
Breckinridge, Davis and a great majority of the Charleston seceders.
Stephens himself considered this a most precarious and hazardous
calculation, wholly insufficient for so grave a step. So obviously sound
was this judgment, that we inevitably recur to the belief that the
Southern secession was inspired not by calculation, but by a temper of
self-assertion, which fitted its hopes to its wishes.
The "Constitutional Union" party--legatee of the Whig and American
parties--held a convention at Baltimore in May; resolved simply for the
maintenance of the Union and Constitution and the enforcement of the
laws; and nominated John Bell of Tennessee and Edward Everett of
Massachusetts. It was the refuge of those who disliked the whole
sectional controversy, and were indifferent to both pro-slavery and
anti-slavery claims in comparison with peace and union. It held a middle
position, geographically as well as in sentiment, and was strong in the
border States.
The Republican convention met in Chicago in May. It was a more
sophisticated body than its predecessor of 1856; with less of youthful
and spontaneous enthusiasm for a principle, and more of keen maneuvering
for the candidates. But it represented a disciplined and powerful
party, clear and strong in its essential principles, and looking
confidently to a national victory as almost within its grasp. The
platform affirmed its familiar doctrines as to slavery, and threw out
various inviting propositions as to foreign immigrants, a homestead law,
a Pacific railroad, etc. The vote of Pennsylvania being important and
doubtful, a bait was thrown out in a high-tariff resolution. When a year
or two later the exigencies of the war demanded a large revenue, this
was obtained partly by a high tariff. In these circumstances originated
the Protectionist character of the Republican party; a character
confirmed by the natural alliance of the favored interests with the
favoring power.
The most prominent and in a sense logical candidate was William H.
Seward. As Governor and then Senator of New York, as a polished and
philosophic orator, as a man whose anti-slavery and constitutional
principles were well understood,--he was easily in the popular estimate
the foremost man of the party. Lincoln was in comparison obscure; his
fame rested mainly on his achievements as a popular debater; he was
wholly unversed in executive work and almost equally so in legislation;
highly esteemed in his own State, but little known beyond its borders.
He had been proposed for the Presidency only a week before in the State
convention, with great hurrahing for "the rail-splitter," "honest old
Abe." It seemed hardly more than one of the "favorite son" candidacies
which every canvass knows in plenty. But he was supported by a group of
very skillful Illinois politicians. They worked up the local sentiment
in his favor; they filled the galleries of the Wigwam at daylight of
the decisive day, and they took quieter and effective measures. Simon
Cameron claimed to control the vote of Pennsylvania in the convention,
and a bargain was made with him that if Lincoln were elected he should
have a seat in the Cabinet. Lincoln was not a party to the compact, but
when informed of it afterward he reluctantly made good his part. The
same thing was done with the friends of Caleb B. Smith of Indiana, and
with a like sequel.
Meantime, Seward met such difficulties as always beset the first
favorite in a race. The old alliance between Seward, Weed and Greeley,
had been broken, with anger and resentment on Greeley's part, and he was
now on the floor of the convention actively opposing his old ally.
William M. Evarts led the New York delegation for Seward. Edward Bates
of Missouri had some support, as more moderate than Seward in his
anti-slavery principles, but he was too colorless a candidate to draw
much strength. One of Seward's friends, in seeking to win over the Bates
men, declared that Lincoln was just as radical as Seward. A newspaper
containing this being shown to Lincoln, he penciled on the margin a
reply which was forwarded to his supporters, "Lincoln agrees with Seward
in his irrepressible-conflict idea, and in negro equality; but he is
opposed to Seward's higher law." The "irrepressible conflict" was the
exact counterpart of the "house divided against itself." "Negro
equality" marked a distinct advance since the Douglas debate two years
before, and such advance, gradual but steady, was characteristic of
Lincoln. It was no less characteristic of him to disclaim the "higher
law" doctrine,--an obligation recognized by the individual conscience as
paramount to all human enactments. Indeed Seward, though the phrase was
his, was as little an idealist of the individual conscience as was
Lincoln.
Of the circumstances just mentioned, a part belongs to the undercurrents
which few spectators at the time discerned. What the crowd and the world
saw was three successive ballots. First, Seward, 173-1/2; Lincoln, 102;
Cameron, 50-1/2; Chase and Bates following close. Then Cameron's name
was withdrawn, and Lincoln shot up abreast of Seward. A third ballot,
and Lincoln went up, up till he touched the line of a clear majority.
Then the Wigwam roared; the guns boomed; in the first subsidence of the
cheering Evarts gallantly moved that the choice be made unanimous,--and
the tall, homely Illinois lawyer was the Republican candidate for the
Presidency. If the result was not without its illustrations of his own
definition of politics--"the combination of individual meannesses for
the general good,"--he at least had sacrificed nothing of his
convictions, had not worked for his own elevation, or smirched his
hands. And, unproved though he was as to administrative power and
seamanship in a cyclone, there was yet a singular and intrinsic fitness
in his candidacy. His recognized quality was that which is basal and
dear to the common people, honesty; honesty in thought, word and act. In
his convictions, he was near to the great mass of the party of freedom
as it actually was; frankly opposed to slavery, but reverent and
tenacious of the established order, even though it gave slavery a
certain standing-ground. He had, too, that intimate sympathy with the
common people, that knowledge of their thoughts and ways, that respect
for their collective judgment and will as the ultimate arbiter--which
are the essential traits in a great leader of democracy.
In the four-sided canvass which followed, the lines were not strictly
geographical. The Republican party indeed took its Vice-Presidential
candidate from the North--Hannibal Hamlin of Maine; for no Southern man
was likely to invite exile or worse by taking the place; and the
Republican electoral tickets had no place or only a nominal one south of
Mason and Dixon's line, except in Missouri, where the emancipation idea
was still alive. But the three other parties contested with each other
in all the States. In Massachusetts, the Breckinridge party had as its
candidate for Governor the unscrupulous Butler; and among its
supporters was Caleb Cushing, erudite, brilliant, conscienceless, and a
pro-slavery bigot. At the South, the Douglas party had considerable
strength. The hot-heads who had split the Democracy and were ready to
divide the nation had by no means an undisputed ascendency. Stephens and
Toombs parted company; they headed respectively the Douglas and
Breckinridge electoral tickets in Georgia. Davis spent part of the
summer in privacy at the North; he saw enough to convince him that the
North would fight if challenged, but the warning was in vain.
The special interest of the campaign centered in the menace of disunion.
The territorial question in itself had grown almost wearisome, and had
no immediate application. The fugitive slave law had fallen into the
background; renditions were so uncertain and dangerous that they were
seldom attempted. John Brown's foray was to the North a bygone affair,
with no dream of its repetition. The few promoters of his project had
shrunk back at the catastrophe; the mass of the people had always looked
on it as a crazy affair; and with personal sympathy or honor for him,
the raid was almost forgotten,--but the South could not so easily
forget. But the living and burning issue was the threat of secession if
Lincoln should be elected,--a threat made openly and constantly at the
South. The campaign was full of bitterness. "Black Republicans" was a
term in constant use. The violent language was not all at the South.
Cushing declared, when in the preceding autumn Massachusetts reëlected
Banks as governor, "A band of drunken mutineers have seized hold of the
opinion of this commonwealth--the avowed and proclaimed enemies of the
Constitution of the United States,"--with further hysteric talk about
the ship of state, with the pirate's flag at the masthead, drifting into
the gulf of perdition. The New York _Herald_ was full of wild and
inflammatory words. Papers of a different character--like the Boston
_Courier_, representative of the party which included Everett and
Winthrop--habitually charged the Republican party with John Brownism and
disunionism. The South not unnaturally believed that the North was
seriously divided, and could never hold together against its claims. But
most Northern people regarded the disunion threats as mere
gasconade,--meant only to carry an election, and then to be quietly
dropped. But if they were meant in earnest--well, there would be
something to be said, and done too, on the other side.
Douglas, with almost no chance of success, made a bold and active
canvass. Through this year he showed a courage far higher than the mere
dexterity which had been his chief distinction before. In part, it was
an expression of a changing temper in the people. He stood openly and
stoutly for the principle of majority rule. While speaking at Wheeling,
Va., he was questioned as to whether he held that the election of
Lincoln would justify secession. He answered promptly that it would not,
and if secession were attempted, he would support a Republican President
in putting it down by force. That pledge to the country he redeemed,
when at the outbreak of the war he gave his immediate and full adherence
to President Lincoln,--representing and leading the "War Democrats" who
practically solidified the North, and insured its victory. At Wheeling,
he passed on the question answered by him for Breckinridge to answer.
But Breckinridge ignored the challenge,--a silence which was what the
lawyers call a "pregnant negative."
November brought victory to the Republicans. In the popular vote,
Lincoln had about 1,860,000; Douglas, 1,370,000; Breckinridge, 840,000;
and Bell, 590,000. The electoral votes stood--or would have stood, if
the electoral conventions had all met--Lincoln, 180; Breckinridge, 72;
Bell, 39; Douglas, 12. Lincoln carried every Northern State except New
Jersey; Douglas, only part of New Jersey and Missouri; Bell, Virginia,
Kentucky and Tennessee; Breckinridge, all the rest of the South. The
successful candidate was thus in a popular minority,--no new thing. The
distinctively Southern candidate was doubly in a minority. The
supporters of Lincoln, Douglas and Bell, were all to be counted against
the extreme Southern claim, and much more against any assertion of that
claim by secession. Unitedly, their support outnumbered that of
Breckinridge by more than four to one. If ever a party was fairly and
overwhelmingly out-voted, it was the party whose central doctrine was
that slavery must be protected in the United States territories.
Now the question was, would that party acquiesce in the decision of the
majority? At every previous election in the nation's history the
minority had acquiesced promptly and loyally. When Jefferson was
elected, New England looked on the new President as a Jacobin in
politics and an infidel in religion. But New England acquiesced without
an hour's hesitation. When Jackson was chosen, his opponents saw in him
a rude and ignorant demagog. But the anti-Jackson people accepted the
new President as they had accepted Monroe and Adams. In the choice of
Buchanan, the Republicans saw an assertion of the nationalism of
slavery, and a menace of the subjugation of Kansas. But the supporters
of Fremont recognized Buchanan as unhesitatingly as if he had been their
own choice. What was the meaning of popular government, except that the
minority should submit to the legitimate victory of the majority? On
what did the nation's existence rest, but the loyalty of its citizens to
the nation's self-determination in its elections? And now, would the
minority resist the decision of the majority? Would the Southern States
attempt to break up the Union? The North could not and would not
believe it. But there was a strong party at the South which was fully
convinced that the election of Lincoln was the crown of a series of
grievances which justified the South in withdrawing from the Union; that
such withdrawal was a clear constitutional right; and that the honor and
interest of the South demanded that it be made.