Douglas was now at the zenith of his success, master of all his
resources, the most admired, dreaded and powerful man in American
public life. History must inexorably condemn much of his most brilliant
and successful work, but the very emphasis of its condemnation is
an involuntary tribute to the matchless efficiency of the man. At
this period he was the most masterful and commanding personage of
purely civil character that has "strutted his hour upon the stage"
of American politics. The cabinet maker's apprentice, the village
schoolmaster, the Western lawyer, had, by sheer force, established
his right to this position of real master of his country. A weak
President was cringing at his feet. He had overcome the brilliant
and powerful opposition in the Senate. The aristocratic South,
which instinctively dreaded and despised a plebeian, was paying
him temporary homage.
He was barely 43 years old. So strenuous and effective had
been his youth that people hesitated to set bounds to his future
possibilities. So strongly had his overmastering force impressed
the popular imagination that the sobriquet, "Little Giant," suggested
by his small stature and enormous energy, had become household
words. He had come to Washington fifteen years before, a crude,
coarse, blustering youth, as described by the accomplished Adams
whose social ideals were borrowed from the courts of Europe. But
he had readily adjusted himself to his new environment and taken on
the polish of the Capital. Though never rich, he made money with
ease and spent it with princely munificence. He was not only the
political dictator but the social lion of Washington. He lived in
splendid style, in harmony with his exalted station, entertained
generously and responded freely to the numerous invitations of
friends and admirers. "His ready wit, his fine memory, made him
a favorite. * * * * He delighted in pleasant company. Unused to
what is called etiquette, he soon adapted himself to its rules and
took rank in the dazzling society of the Capital. * * * To see
him threading the glittering crowds with a pleasant smile or kind
word for everybody one would have taken him for a trained courtier."
Tradition, backed by General McClellan, says he was a heavy drinker,
though not a drunkard, and some of his finest speeches at this
period of his life appear to have been delivered after unrestrained
carousals that would have prostrated ordinary men.
Ever since 1852, when his youth and indiscretion had defeated
his presidential aspirations, he had been waiting impatiently for
the Convention of 1856. During the past four years he had been
conspicuously "riding in the whirlwind and directing the storm"
of politics. He had perhaps intensified the hostile prejudices of
the New England Puritans; but they were austere moralists, rather
than progressive politicians. He had certainly alienated many
friends in the Northwest, which was slowly withdrawing from its old
alliance with the South, and falling into sympathy with the stern
and uncompromising East. But, while he regretted the necessity
of giving offense to any section of the country or any body of the
people, he had deliberately chosen what he deemed the less of two
political evils,--the alienation of the Puritans of New England and
the Northwest rather than a breach with the salve holding baronage
of the South, which had established a prescriptive right to control
the Presidency. And yet the fact could not be blinked that all
his services and sacrifices to the South had failed to give him
its confidence and the enthusiastic loyalty that springs from it.
It viewed him with mingled emotions of admiration and fear. It
desired to retain his service but was unwilling to trust him with
power. It could not forget that in his zeal for its service that
he had trifled with the North and suspected that, if self-interest
prompted, he might break faith with the section which he now served
with such ardor.
The South, a decided minority in population, had long held its sway
by artful appeals to the selfish ambition of Northern politicians.
Although the undisputed command of the Democracy was in its hands and
the burning question of the time was that of slavery, no Southern
man had in late years been permitted to enter the field as a candidate
for the Presidency. The Southern leaders inexorably insisted on
giving the nomination to Northern men. There were at this time
three candidates from the North; Pierce, how would have joyfully
submitted to any terms and pledged himself to any service for another
four years of office; Buchanan, the great lawyer and distinguished
statesman, who had just returned from the English mission; and
Douglas, the giant of the Senate, the recognized head and practical
dictator of his party.
In point of ability and energy there was no comparison between
Douglas and either of his competitors. Pierce had laboriously
earned for himself the lasting contempt of the world. Buchanan
was an eminently respectable, dignified old gentleman of great
professional attainments and diplomatic experience, an admirable
Ambassador, a good Secretary of State, who might even have adorned
the Supreme Bench, but whose vacillating will and temporizing
character hopelessly unfitted him for the arduous duties of the
Presidency in the great crises that ensued. Had the positive,
combative and masterful Douglas been nominated at this time it may
be safely said that the most momentous chapter of American history
would have been widely different from what it is.
The Convention met at Cincinnati on the 2d of June and continued in
session for five days. The platform was adopted without dissent,
declaring the firm purpose of the party to "resist all attempts at
renewing, in Congress or out of it, the agitation of the slavery
question," and "recognizing and adopting the principle contained
in the organic law establishing the Territories of Nebraska and
Kansas as embodying the only sound and safe solution of the slavery
question."
Buchanan's candidacy was engineered with rare skill. He was
fortunate in having been absent from the country, representing his
Government at the Court of St. James, during the three preceding
years crowded with great and stirring events, while Pierce and
Douglas had been skirmishing for the advantage, each seeking to
outbid the other in eager competition for Southern favor. The South
was deeply indebted to Douglas; but fear is strong than gratitude.
It was well satisfied with Pierce, but hesitated to nominate him lest
he might be overwhelmed with a storm of just contempt. Without an
element of positive strength, Buchanan was a formidable candidate.
On the first ballot he had 135 votes, Pierce 122, Douglas 33, and
Cass 5. Pierce lost steadily for 14 ballots while Buchanan and
Douglas gained. Pierce's name was then withdrawn. On the next
ballot Buchanan had 168 and Douglas 118 votes. Douglas then sent
a dispatch to Richardson, his manager, to withdraw his name and
make the nomination of Buchanan unanimous.
On June 17th the first Republican National Convention was held at
Philadelphia. It was not yet a united and well organized party.
It made little pretense of agreeing in anything but unyielding
opposition to slavery-propagandism and the fixed resolve to curb
the intolerable arrogance of the slave power. It was made up of
those who were opposed to the repeal of the Missouri Compromise,
to the further extension of slavery, and to the refusal to admit
Kansas as a free State. It consisted of Whigs, Free-spoilers,
Know-nothings and Democrats, who were inclined to apologize for
their temporary association under the name of this mushroom upstart
and were not willing to have it forgotten that their essential
political creeds were unchanged. They were Republicans for a time
until their own parties reformed or gathered strength for more
effective work.
Yet, imperfect as was the organic unity of the party, it contained
a large part of the best political ability of the country. The real
leaders, who had evolved it from the incoherent chaos of earlier
years, impressed their energetic characters upon the organization,
and prescribed for it such formula of faith as it yet had, were
Seward and Chase. To one of them the nomination was clearly due.
Seward preferred to wait four years. It was not deemed prudent to
nominate Chase. On the first formal ballot John C. Fremont was
nominated. For the office of Vice-President Abraham Lincoln received
110 votes, but was fortunately defeated. The platform declared it
to be "the right and duty of Congress to prohibit in the Territories
those twin relics of barbarism, polygamy and slavery," condemned
in scathing terms the conduct of affairs in Kansas and demanded
its immediate admission under the Topeka Constitution.
An exciting campaign followed. Rallies, parades, fireworks
and theatrical displays were lavishly provided by the sanguine
Republicans. Their orators filled the land with eloquent denunciation
of the Pierce Administration and the Buchanan platform. Much as
it outwardly resembled the log cabin and hard cider campaign of
1840, it was wholly different in character. The Republicans were
in serious earnest. They had well defined, though discordant
opinions and convictions. But before the end of the contest it
was clear that they had blundered in nominating the picturesque
"pathfinder."
Douglas was not inactive during the campaign, being deeply interested,
not only in the election of Buchanan, but in restoring Democratic
supremacy in Illinois. He sold a hundred acres of land on the western
limit of Chicago for a hundred thousand dollars and contributed with
great liberality to the campaign fund, not only of his own State,
but also of Pennsylvania. The Democrats won both States, which,
with the entire vote of the South, elected Buchanan.
Millard Fillmore, a rather ghostly reminiscence of other days,
had been nominated by the American and Whig parties and carried
Maryland. The combined vote of Fremont and Fillmore exceeded that
of Buchanan by nearly half a million. The Democrats were evidently
approaching a crisis, and harmony, never so imperatively needed as
now, was never so hopelessly unattainable.