While events in Washington in the spring of 1860 were full of
historic interest, greater and more memorable events were occurring
in Charleston. The Democratic Convention met in that city on April
23rd, which brought to the surface a state of feeling at the South
that had long been suspected but not certainly known.
There was but one prominent candidate in the field. Douglas was
incomparably the most eminent Democratic statesman of the time.
According to the settled custom of the party, the South, which
did not ask the Presidency itself, should have supported him. But
the Southern delegates had resolved that in no event should he be
nominated on any platform.
He had a clear majority of the Convention. But the Democrats,
though still wearing a common badge, now constituted two distinct
and antagonistic parties, held together not so much by common
beliefs as by habits, traditions and sentimental attachment to an
old and venerable name. The Northern Democrats were wholly estranged
from those of the South. The two sections of the party quarreled
about the platform; yet the Southerners cared little about that
matter if they could name the candidate. They did not demand a
Southern man, for he could not be elected. They wanted a "Northern
man with Southern principles," like Pierce or Buchanan. Of all
living men the dexterous and domineering Douglas least suited their
demands. He was probably the only man who could have carried a
large enough Northern vote to be elected. But they could not forget
that his popularity at the North was, in part, the result of his
great battle against the South which had caused their disastrous
defeat.
The Northern delegates insisted on merely approving the Cincinnati
platform, while the Southern delegates, who hoped to render Douglas'
candidacy impossible, insisted on radical pro-slavery declarations
and a denial of all right of the people of a Territory to prevent
the holding of slaves. After a fierce struggle the Northern platform
was adopted by a small majority. Immediately the delegates from
Alabama, Mississippi, South Carolina, Louisiana, Florida, Texas,
Arkansas and three-fourths of that from Georgia refused to abide
by it and withdrew.
The seceders organized another Convention, adopted the radical
platform which had been rejected and adjourned to meet at Richmond
on the 11th of June.
The regular Convention, meanwhile, found itself unable to do anything.
The settled rule required a vote of two-thirds of all the delegates
to select a candidate. The chairman ruled that in order to be
nominated Douglas must have two-thirds of all the delegates elected,
notwithstanding the secession. This required 202 votes. He had
but 152 and the other 50 were not to be had. On May 3rd, after
57 ballots, the Convention adjourned to meet at Baltimore on June
18th. Davis, Toombs and the other leaders of the Southern junta
in Congress issued an address approving the course of the seceders
at Charleston, advising them to take no action at Richmond, but
to await the result of the Baltimore Convention and expressing the
conviction that, if fair concessions were not made to the South,
other delegations would join them.
They accordingly came to Baltimore and demanded their seats in that
Convention. But some of the States had elected new delegations
which claimed them. For days confusion prevailed. Douglas sent two
messages suggesting that his candidacy be dropped. But there were
suppressed by his friends, who inexorably demanded his nomination.
Five more States withdrew and the chairman resigned and joined
the seceders. The Convention reorganized itself and proceeded to
ballot. Douglas received all but thirteen votes; less, however,
than the required two-thirds of all the delegates elected. But a
resolution was passed declaring him nominated on the ground that
he had received the votes of two-thirds of all delegates present.
Senator Fitzpatrick of Alabama was nominated for Vice-President
and the Convention adjourned. He declined and the Committee placed
Herschel V. Johnson of Georgia in his place.
The seceders, joined by the recent recruits, held their Convention
in Baltimore on the 28th of June and nominated John C. Breckenridge
of Kentucky for President and Joseph Lane of Oregon for Vice-President.
This did not bring about a new condition, but revealed one which
had existed for many years. The South was technically right in it
demand that the Convention declare itself explicitly in favor of
the honest and faithful maintenance of its constitutional rights
in the Territories. These rights had been vehemently denied by
the Republicans, but triumphantly established on a solid basis by
the decision of the Supreme Court. Douglas had quibbled over the
decision and explained it away until it seemed doubtful whether it
in fact settled anything. The platform adopted by his supporters
in the Convention recited the differences of opinion among Democrats
as to the exact limits of the powers of the territorial legislature
and those of Congress and referred the question again to the Court
with a pledge to abide by its decision. They seemed to forget that
the whole question had already been decided in the most sweeping
terms in favor of the extreme Southern demands. It is not impossible
that, had the South consented tot his vague and disingenuous platform
and vigorously supported Douglas, he might have been elected. But
"the South was implacable towards him and deliberately resolved to
accept defeat rather than secure a victory under his lead."
The Republicans, meanwhile, had held their memorable Convention
at Chicago, where, on May 18th, Lincoln had been nominated. When
the news arrived in Washington, it made a great stir. The Republican
Senators and Members gathered around Douglas to hear his judgement
of the new statesman who had risen in the West.
"Gentlemen," he said, " you have nominated a very able and a very
honest man."
On the adjournment of Congress, disregarding the decorous custom
of seventy years, he entered the campaign, making speeches in his
own behalf. He knew from the outset that with only a fraction of
his party at his back, his chances of election were slight. But he
fought on fiercely, partly from temperament and partly from conviction
that he ought, if possible, to prevent Lincoln's election. Besides,
there was a shadowy possibility of an election by the House of
Representatives. At times his old Democratic enthusiasm returned.
He told one audience that had his party given him undivided support
he would have carried every State in the Union against Lincoln,
except two.
He was sincerely alarmed for the safety of the Union in case of
Lincoln's election, which he believed probable. He urged upon the
South the duty of submitting to the result whatever it might be.
At Norfolk, Virginia, he was asked whether, if Lincoln was elected,
the Southern States would be justified in seceding from the Union?
To this he said, "I answer emphatically, No! The election of a man
to the Presidency * * * in conformity with the Constitution * * *
would not justify any attempt at dissolving this glorious Confederacy."
He further told them that if Lincoln were elected he would aid him
to the extent of his power in maintaining the supremacy of the laws
against all resistance to them from whatever quarter, and that it
would be the President's duty to treat all attempts to break up
the Union as Jackson treated the nullifiers in 1832. His candidacy
was obviously hopeless. He exerted himself to avert the coming
storm. Lincoln received one million eight hundred and sixty-seven
thousand votes, Douglas one million two hundred and ninety-one
thousand, and Brekenridge eight hundred and fifty thousand. Of the
three hundred and three electoral votes Douglas received but twelve.
Lincoln had an electoral majority over all opposing candidates.
On the 13th of November, South Carolina called a Convention to consider
the dangers incident to her position in the Federal Union which,
on December 20th, unanimously adopted an ordinance of secession.
Three weeks later Mississippi declared herself out of the Union
and was promptly followed by Florida, Alabama and Georgia. By the
20th of May eleven States had seceded. The President looked on it
as a lawsuit between the States and exhausted his very respectable
legal learning and ingenuity in proving that he had no power
to raise his hand in defense of the country. It may be that the
lawyer, with his quiddits and quillets, had survived the man. It
may be that he had so long breathed the atmosphere of treason in
the Cabinet counsels that he was tinctured with the widely prevalent
pestilence. It is much more likely that the timorous old man,
finding his term of office ending amid universal ruin, his friends
and masters rushing into mad rebellion against his Government,
weakly adopted that famous sentiment of the French King: "It will
outlast my time."
Congress met on the third of December. In his message the President
charged the entire trouble to the aggressive anti-slavery activity
of the North, which had at last driven the South to open rebellion.
He protested that he was powerless to act and referred the whole
matter to Congress. Three of the Cabinet were serving the enemy
and many seats in the House and Senate were held by unblushing
traitors. The forts in Charleston harbor were besieged by South
Carolina. The Government at first dared not and later could not
relieve them.
Congress, if not as completely palsied as the President, was
without remedy for the fearful evils of the time. Besides its
quota of positive traitors, many of its members were infected with
the mild, moonshiny political philosophy which had been currently
in Washington for a quarter of a century. Many were about to retire
to private life, and, like Buchanan, thought the Government would
outlast their time. A famous Senate Committee of Thirteen, and a
corresponding House Committee of Thirty-three, were appointed to
consider the state of the Nation; both of which toiled much and
accomplished nothing.
The Committee of Thirteen reported late in December that it was
unable to agree, and on January 3rd Douglas addressed the Senate
upon this report. He reviewed at great length the history of
slavery legislation and drew from it all the conclusion that the
trouble had arisen from unwarrantable interference in the local
affairs of the Territories, and that, had popular sovereignty been
given a chance it would have solved the problem long since and
would do it yet if fairly tried. He ascribed the trouble to the
pernicious agitation of the Republicans, and recalled Lincoln's
most radical anti-slavery utterances in the famous campaign of 1858.
He assured the people of the South that Lincoln would be powerless
to hurt them if they remained in the Union, for there would be
a majority against him in both the Houses of Congress. He denied
utterly the right of South Carolina to secede and repudiate its
constitutional duties, and insisted on the right of the Federal
Government to enforce the law in all of the States. Yet, while
there was a ray of hope, war must not be resorted to.
"In my opinion," he continued, "war is disunion, certain, inevitable,
and irrevocable. * * * We have reached a point where disunion is
inevitable unless some compromise, founded upon mutual concession,
can be made. I prefer compromise to war. I prefer concession to
a dissolution of the Union."
He asked the Republicans to consent to the reestablishment of the
Missouri Compromise line, which he had swept away six years before
amid their earnest protestations. He also proposed to establish
popular sovereignty by constitutional amendment, such sovereignty
to begin when a Territory had 50,000 inhabitants, and, by another
amendment, to prohibit future acquisition of territory without
a concurrent vote of two-thirds of each House of Congress. His
purpose, he said, was not to settle the slavery question, but to
expel slavery agitation from the arena of Federal politics forever.
This was his last important speech in the Senate. It was delivered
under circumstances of awful solemnity. He seemed not deeply
impressed with the gravity of the situation and was still interested
in it chiefly as a party problem. He did not expect the baptism
of blood that followed, but cheerfully looked forward to compromise
and reconciliation. The Northern Democrats might yet rescue
the country by mediating a truce between radical Republicans and
radical Southern Democrats. In the present state of affairs who,
but himself, the chief of these neutrals, could lead this great
movement? His mental habits were those of the politician. He saw
all event primarily in their relation to party tactics. Now that
the earth began to rock beneath his feet, he suspected that it
was only a theatrical earthquake and prepared to seize upon every
advantage that might be gathered out of the confusion. He could not
comprehend the deep and unappeasable passions that rent the Nation.
The grim earnestness of his fellow-countrymen was as inconceivable
to him as the demoniac enthusiasm of the great Apostle was to
the scoffing Athenians who heard him on the Hill of Mars. But,
as the great tragedy deepened and darkened, he quit his political
speculations and began to think, not of the success of his party,
but of the possibility of saving the Union from imminent wreck.
He returned to Illinois and addressed the legislature, urging
energetic support of the war, and on May 1st was welcomed back to
Chicago by an immense assembly of all parties. He was escorted
to the great hall in which Lincoln had been nominated and there
addressed the people. He spoke not as a politician but as a generous
patriot. He denounced in unmeasured terms the Southern conspiracy
which had resulted in secession and now had ripened into open and
bloody rebellion. He saw the treason of the South no longer as a
mere element in an interesting political game, but as the blackest
of human crimes and an awful menace to the life of the Republic.
"There are only two sides to the question," he said. "Every man must
be for the United States or against it. There can be no neutrals
in this war; only patriots or traitors. * * * It is a sad task to
discuss questions so fearful as civil war; but sad as it is, bloody
and disastrous as I expect it will be, I express it as my conviction
before God that it is the duty of every American citizen to rally
around the flag of his country."
Not long after his return home he was stricken with serious sickness.
The disease was not of such a character that it was expected to
prove fatal, but the highest medical skill and most tender nursing
were unavailing. The truth was, although unsuspected, that his
vital energies were completely exhausted by the enormous labors
and deep agitations of the past ten years. He had just passed his
48th birthday but was already gray and prematurely old. He had
dwelt amid the tempest for twenty years and had felt more of severe
strain than most men who had seen the Psalmist's three score years
and ten. When told that his end was near, and asked what message
he would send to his boys:
"Tell them," he said, "to obey the laws and support the Constitution
of the United States."
On the morning of June 3rd he died. His remains lie buried in
Chicago on the shore of Lake Michigan, a spot fitly chosen as the
last resting place of this most ceaselessly active and inexhaustibly
resourceful of American statesmen.
History has not been kind to Douglas. The farther we recede from
events the more trivial seem the temporary circumstances which
influence them and the clearer appear the changeless principles
which ought to mold men's conduct. But to the eager, impetuous man
of action, the temporary circumstances are apt to be of overmastering
force. He was a practical man of action, whose course was generally
guided by the accidental circumstances of the hour, rather than
by fixed principles. His education was defective. He entered the
great arena with little of either mental or moral culture. Yet,
severely as we now judge him, he did not fall below the prevailing
standard of political morals. His real sin was that he did not
rise above the ethics of the times; that he remained deaf as an
adder to the voices of the great reformers who sought to regenerate
the age, and who were compelled to grapple with him in deadly struggle
before they could gain footing on the stage. The time was out of
joint and he felt no vocation to set it right. While his ethics
has fared hard, his mental gifts have been over-estimated. The
availability of all his resources, his overwhelming energy and marvelous
efficiency among men of intellect, gave rise to the impression
which still survives that he was a man of original genius. But of
all his numerous speeches, heard or read by millions, not a sentence
had enough vitality to survive even one generation. Though for
ten years of stormy agitation he was the most commanding figure in
our public life and wielded power of which Presidents and Cabinets
stood in awe, the things for which he is chiefly remembered are
his unfortunate doctrine of popular sovereignty and the resistless
power with which he defended his most dubious relation to the
question of slavery.
His powerful influence upon the overshadowing question of the times,
his restless activity in shaping the course of great political
events, fast drifting into darkest tragedy, have obscured his work
in less conspicuous fields. While it does not come within the
scope of this work to do more than portray his relation to the
great national tragedy which was slowly evolving during the entire
period of his political life, it should not be forgotten that his
activity covered the whole field of legislation and that no man
responded more generously or efficiently to the countless demands
upon time and energy which so greatly burden the American statesman.
It is pleasant to find a Lieutenant General of the United States army
in his old age and retirement recalling a visit in his boyhood to
Washington, to seek redress of some West Point grievance, and how
the only man he could find who had the leisure enough to effectively
interview the Secretary of War on his behalf was Douglas.
It is sufficient for our purposes to say that for thirteen years
he had practical control of all legislation affecting the Western
Territories, that he drafted the bills establishing territorial
governments for Minnesota, Kansas, Nebraska, Utah, New Mexico and
Washington and prepared the acts for the admission of Wisconsin,
California, Minnesota and Oregon. He secured for his State an
enormous grant of public land, which resulted in the building of
the Illinois Central Railroad. He warmly advocated the building
of a railway to the Pacific. He consistently favored the most
liberal appropriations for internal improvements, and, with that
provincial patriotism and jealousy of Old World interference which
was fashionable fifty years ago, vigorously opposed the Clayton-Bulwer
treaty as a practical annulment of the Monroe doctrine.
It is not to be set down in his list of sins that he failed to
bridge over the widening chasm between the North and the South;
but it must be charged to him as a mental defect that he hopelessly
failed to comprehend the significance of the great movements which
he seemed to lead, that in the keenness of his interest in the
evolutions of political strategy he failed to discern the symptoms
of coming revolution.
When the storm that had been brewing before his eyes for ten years
broke upon the country it took him by surprise. The ardor of his
temperament, the eagerness of his ambition, make his conduct at
times painfully resemble that of the selfish demagogue. But the
range of his vision was small. He erred less from corruption of
the heart than from deficiency of the mind. But what statesman of
note during those strange and portentous years preceding the war
could safely expose his speech and conduct to the searchlight of
criticism? The wisest walked in darkness and stumbled often. It
was not the fate of Douglas to see the mists amid which he had
groped swept away by the hurricane of war.
What he would have done had his life been protracted ten year
longer, is subject of interesting speculation. By temperament and
habit he belonged to the preceding generation and it is difficult
to conceive him working in harmony with the fiery and unyielding
Puritans who succeeded. He loved the Union heartily and hated
secession. He would have supported Lincoln in the great crisis.
In the regenerated America, which rose from the fiery baptisms of
the war, with its new ideal, its new hopes, its new convictions
and deeper earnestness, he would probably have found himself sadly
out of place. The epoch of history to which he belonged was closed.
Young as he was, he had outlived his historic era and there is a
dramatic fitness in the ending of his career at this time.