THE MERGING OF THE PARTISAN IN THE PATRIOT

On the day after the election, the palmetto and lone star flag was thrown out to the breeze from the office of the Charleston Mercury and hailed with cheers by the populace. “The tea has been thrown overboard-the revolution of 1860 has been initiated,” said that ebullient journal next morning. On the 10th of November, the legislature of South Carolina called a convention of the people to consider the relations of the Commonwealth “with the Northern States and the government of the United States.” The instantaneous approval of the people of Charleston, the focus of public opinion in the State, left no doubt that South Carolina would secede from the Union soon after the 17th of December, when the convention was to assemble. On November 23d, Major Robert Anderson, in command of Fort Moultrie in Charleston harbor, urged the War Department to reinforce his garrison and to occupy also Fort Sumter and Castle Pinckney, saying, “I need not say how anxious I am-indeed, determined, so far as honor will permit-to avoid collision with the citizens of South Carolina. Nothing, however, will be better calculated to prevent bloodshed than our being found in such an attitude that it would be madness and folly to attack us.” “That there is a settled determination,” he continued, “to leave the Union, and to obtain possession of this work, is apparent to all." No sane man could doubt that a crisis was imminent. Unhappily, James Buchanan was still President of the United States.

To those who greeted Judge Douglas upon his return to Washington, he seemed to be in excellent health, despite rumors to the contrary. Demonstrative followers insisted upon hearing his voice immediately upon his arrival, and he was not unwilling to repeat what he had said at New Orleans, here within hearing of men of all sections. The burden of his thought was contained in a single sentence: “Mr. Lincoln, having been elected, must be inaugurated in obedience to the Constitution.” “Fellow citizens,” he said, in his rich, sonorous voice, sounding the key-note of his subsequent career, “I beseech you, with reference to former party divisions, to lay aside all political asperities, all personal prejudices, to indulge in no criminations or recriminations, but to unite with me, and all Union-loving men, in a common effort to save the country from the disasters which threaten it."

In the midst of forebodings which even the most optimistic shared, Congress reassembled. Feeling was tense in both houses, but it was more noticeable in the Senate, where, hitherto, political differences had not been a barrier to social intercourse. Senator Iverson put into words what all felt: “Look at the spectacle exhibited on this floor. How is it? There are Republican Northern senators upon that side. Here are Southern senators on this side. How much social intercourse is there between us? You sit upon your side, silent and gloomy; we sit upon ours with knit brows and portentous scowls.... Here are two hostile bodies on this floor; and it is but a type of the feeling that exists between the two sections."

Southern senators hastened to lay bare their grievances. However much they might differ in naming specific, tangible ills, they all agreed upon the great cause of their apprehension and uneasiness. Davis voiced the common feeling when he said, “I believe the true cause of our danger to be that a sectional hostility has been substituted for a general fraternity." And his colleague confirmed this opinion. Clingman put the same thought more concretely when he declared that the South was apprehensive, not because a dangerous man had been elected to the presidency; but because a President had been elected who was known to be a dangerous man and who had declared his purpose to war upon the social system of the South.

With the utmost boldness, Southern senators announced the impending secession of their States. “We intend,” said Iverson of Georgia speaking for his section, “to go out peaceably if we can, forcibly if we must.... In this state of feeling, divided as we are by interests, by a geographical feeling, by everything that makes two people separate and distinct, I ask why we should remain in the same Union together?"

No Northern senator had better reason than Douglas to believe that these were not merely idle threats. The knowledge sobered him. In this hour of peril, his deep love for the Union welled up within him, submerging the partisan and the politician. “I trust,” he said, rebuking a Northern senator, “we may lay aside all party grievances, party feuds, partisan jealousies, and look to our country, and not to our party, in the consequences of our action. Sir, I am as good a party man as anyone living, when there are only party issues at stake, and the fate of political parties to be provided for. But, Sir, if I know myself, I do not desire to hear the word party, or to listen to any party appeal, while we are considering and discussing the questions upon which the fate of the country now hangs."

In this spirit Douglas welcomed from the South the recital of special grievances. “Give us each charge and each specification.... I hold that there is no grievance growing out of a nonfulfillment of constitutional obligations, which cannot be remedied under the Constitution and within the Union." And when the Personal Liberty Acts of Northern States were cited as a long-standing grievance, he heartily denounced them as in direct violation of the letter and the spirit of the Constitution. At the same time he contended that these acts existed generally in the States to which few fugitives ever fled, and that the Fugitive Slave Act was enforced nineteen out of twenty times. It was the twentieth case that was published abroad through the press, misleading the South. In fact, the present excitement was, to his mind, due to the inability of the extremes of North and South to understand each other. “Those of us that live upon the border, and have commercial intercourse and social relations across the line, can live in peace with each other.” If the border slave States and the border free States could arbitrate the question of slavery, the Union would last forever.

Arbitration and compromise-these were the words with which the venerable Crittenden of Kentucky, successor to Clay, now endeavored to rally Union-loving men. He was seconded by his colleague, Senator Powell, who had already moved the appointment of a special committee of thirteen, to consider the grievances between the slave-holding and non-slave-holding States. Douglas put himself unreservedly at the service of the party of compromise. It seemed, for the moment, as though the history of the year 1850 were to be repeated. Now, as then, the initiative was taken by a senator from the border-State of Kentucky. Again a committee of thirteen was to prepare measures of adjustment. The composition of the committee was such as to give promise of a settlement, if any were possible. Seward, Collamer, Wade, Doolittle, and Grimes, were the Republican members; Douglas, Rice, and Bigler represented the Democracy of the North. Davis and Toombs represented the Gulf States; Powell, Crittenden, and Hunter, the border slave States.

On the 22d of December, the committee took under consideration the Crittenden resolutions, which proposed six amendments to the Constitution and four joint resolutions. The crucial point was the first amendment, which would restore the Missouri Compromise line “in all the territory of the United States now held, or hereafter acquired.” Could this disposition of the vexing territorial question have been agreed upon, the other features of the compromise would probably have commanded assent. But this and all the other proposed amendments were defeated by the adverse vote of the Republican members of the committee.

The outcome was disheartening. Douglas had firmly believed that conciliation, or concession, alone could save the country from civil war. When the committee first met informally the news was already in print that the South Carolina convention had passed an ordinance of secession. Under the stress of this event, and of others which he apprehended, Douglas had voted for all the Crittenden amendments and resolutions, regardless of his personal predilections. “The prospects are gloomy,” he wrote privately, “but I do not yet despair of the Union. We can never acknowledge the right of a State to secede and cut us off from the ocean and the world, without our consent. But in view of impending civil war with our brethren in nearly one-half of the States of the Union, I will not consider the question of force and war until all efforts at peaceful adjustment have been made and have failed. The fact can no longer be disguised that many of the Republican leaders desire war and disunion under pretext of saving the Union. They wish to get rid of the Southern senators in order to have a majority in the Senate to confirm Lincoln’s appointments; and many of them think they can hold a permanent Republican ascendancy in the Northern States, but not in the whole Union. For partisan reasons, therefore, they are anxious to dissolve the Union, if it can be done without making them responsible before the people. I am for the Union, and am ready to make any reasonable sacrifice to save it. No adjustment will restore and preserve peace which does not banish the slavery question from Congress forever and place it beyond the reach of Federal legislation. Mr. Crittenden’s proposition to extend the Missouri line accomplishes this object, and hence I can accept it now for the same reasons that I proposed it in 1848. I prefer our own plan of non-intervention and popular sovereignty, however."

The propositions which Douglas laid before the committee proved to be even less acceptable than the Crittenden amendments. Only a single, insignificant provision relating to the colonizing of free negroes in distant lands, commended itself to a majority of the committee. All hope of an agreement had now vanished. Sad at heart, Douglas voted to report the inability of the committee to agree upon any general plan of adjustment. Yet he did not abandon all hope; he was not yet ready to admit that the dread alternative must be accepted. He joined with Crittenden in replying to a dispatch from the South: “We have hopes that the rights of the South, and of every State and section, may be protected within the Union. Don’t give up the ship. Don’t despair of the Republic." And when Crittenden proposed to the Senate that the people at large should be allowed to express their approval, or disapproval, of his amendments by a vote, Douglas cordially indorsed the suggested referendum in a speech of great power.

There was dross mingled with the gold in this speech of January 3d. Not all his auditors by any means were ready to admit that the attempt of the Federal government to control the slavery question in the Territories, regardless of the wishes of the inhabitants, was the real cause of Southern discontent. Nor were all willing to concede that “whenever Congress had refrained from such interference, harmony and fraternal feeling had been restored." The history of Kansas was still too recent. Yet from these premises, Douglas drew the conclusion “that the slavery question should be banished forever from the Halls of Congress and the arena of Federal politics by an irrepealable constitutional provision."

The immediate occasion for revolution in the South was no doubt the outcome of the presidential election; but that it furnished a just cause for the dissolution of the Union, he would not for an instant admit. No doubt Mr. Lincoln’s public utterances had given some ground for apprehension. No one had more vigorously denounced these dangerous, revolutionary doctrines than he; but neither Mr. Lincoln nor his party would have the power to injure the South, if the Southern States remained in the Union and maintained full delegations in Congress. “Besides,” he added, “I still indulge the hope that when Mr. Lincoln shall assume the high responsibilities which will soon devolve upon him, he will be fully impressed with the necessity of sinking the politician in the statesman, the partisan in the patriot, and regard the obligations which he owes to his country as paramount to those of his party."

No one brought the fearful alternatives into view, with such inexorable logic, as Douglas in this same speech. While he denounced secession as “wrong, unlawful, unconstitutional, and criminal,” he was bound to recognize the fact of secession. “South Carolina had no right to secede; but she has done it. The rights of the Federal government remain, but possession is lost. How can possession be regained, by arms or by a peaceable adjustment of the matters in controversy? Are we prepared for war? I do not mean that kind of preparation which consists of armies and navies, and supplies, and munitions of war; but are we prepared IN OUR HEARTS for war with our own brethren and kindred? I confess I am not."

These were not mere words for oratorical effect. They were expressions wrung from a tortured heart, bound by some of the tenderest of human affections to the people of the South. Buried in the land of her birth rested the mother of his two boys, whom he had loved tenderly and truly. There in the Southland were her kindred, the kindred of his two boys, and many of his warmest personal friends. The prospect of war brought no such poignant grief to men whose associations for generations had been confined to the North.

Returning to the necessity of concession and compromise, he frankly admitted that he had thrown consistency to the winds. The preservation of the Union was of more importance than party platforms or individual records. “I have no hesitation in saying to senators on all sides of this Chamber, that I am prepared to act on this question with reference to the present exigencies of the case, as if I had never given a vote, or uttered a word, or had an opinion upon the subject."

Nor did he hesitate to throw the responsibility for disagreement in the Committee of Thirteen upon the Republican members. In the name of peace he pled for less of party pride and the pride of individual opinion. “The political party which shall refuse to allow the people to determine for themselves at the ballot-box the issue between revolution and war on the one side, and obstinate adherence to a party platform on the other, will assume a fearful responsibility. A war upon a political issue, waged by the people of eighteen States against the people and domestic institutions of fifteen sister-States, is a fearful and revolting thought." But Republican senators were deaf to all warnings from so recent a convert to non-partisan politics.

While the Committee of Thirteen was in session, Major Anderson moved his garrison from Fort Moultrie to Fort Sumter in Charleston harbor, urging repeatedly the need of reinforcements. At the beginning of the new year, President Buchanan was inspired to form a good resolution. He resolved that Anderson should not be ordered to return to Moultrie but should be reinforced. On the 5th of January, the “Star of the West,” with men, arms and ammunition, was dispatched to Charleston harbor. On the 9th the steamer was fired upon and forced to return without accomplishing its mission. Then came the news of the secession of Mississippi. In rapid succession Florida, Alabama, and Georgia passed ordinances of secession. Louisiana and Texas were sure to follow the lead of the other cotton States.

In spite of these untoward events, the Republican senators remained obdurate. Their answer to the Crittenden referendum proposition was the Clark resolution, which read, “The provisions of the Constitution are ample for the preservation of the Union, and the protection of all the material interests of the country; it needs to be obeyed rather than amended." On the 21st of the month, the senators of the seceding States withdrew; yet Douglas could still say to anxious Union men at the South, “There is hope of adjustment, and the prospect has never been better than since we first assembled." And Senator Crittenden concurred in this view. On what could they have grounded their hopes?

Douglas still believed in the efficacy of compromise to preserve the Union. Through many channels he received intelligence from the South, and he knew well that the leaders of public opinion were not of one mind. Some, at least, regarded the proposed Southern confederacy as a means of securing a revision of the Constitution. Men like Benjamin of Louisiana were still ready to talk confidentially of a final adjustment. Moreover, there was a persistent rumor that Seward was inclining to the Crittenden Compromise; and Seward, as the prospective leader of the incoming administration, would doubtless carry many Republicans with him. Something, too, might be expected from the Peace Convention, which was to meet on February 4th, in Washington.

Meantime Douglas lent his aid to such legislative labors as the exigencies of the hour permitted. Once again, he found himself acting with the Republicans to do justice to Kansas, for Kansas was now a suppliant for admission into the Union with a free constitution. Again specious excuses were made for denying simple justice. Toward the obstructionists, his old enemies, Douglas showed no rancor: there was no time to lose in personalities. “The sooner we close up this controversy the better, if we intend to wipe out the excited and irritated feelings that have grown out of it. It will have a tendency to restore good feelings." But not until the Southern senators had withdrawn, was Kansas admitted to the Union of the States, which was then hanging in the balance.

Whenever senators from the slave States could be induced to name their tangible grievances, and not to dwell merely upon anticipated injuries, they were wont to cite the Personal Liberty Acts. In spite of his good intentions, Douglas was drawn into an altercation with Mason of Virginia, in which he cited an historic case where Virginia had been the offender. Recovering himself, he said ingenuously, “I hope we are not to bandy these little cases backwards and forwards for the purpose of sectional irritation. Let us rather meet the question, and give the Constitution the true construction, and allow all criminals to be surrendered according to the law of the State where the offense was committed."

As evidence of his desire to remove this most tangible of Southern gravamina, Douglas introduced a supplementary fugitive slave bill on January 28th. Its notable features were the provision for jury trial in a Federal court, if after extradition a fugitive should persist in claiming his freedom; and the provisions for the payment of damages to the claimant, if he should lose through violence a fugitive slave to whom he had a valid title. The Federal government in turn might bring suit against the county where the rescue had occurred, and the county might reimburse itself by suing the offenders to the full amount of the damages paid. Had this bill passed, it would have made good the most obvious defects in the much-defamed legislation of 1850; but the time had long since passed, when such concessions would satisfy the South.

Douglas had to bear many a gibe for his publicly expressed hopes of peace. Mason denounced his letter to Virginia gentlemen as a “puny, pusillanimous attempt to hoodwink” the people of Virginia. But Douglas replied with an earnest reiteration of his expectations. Yet all depended, he admitted, on the action of Virginia and the border States. For this reason he deprecated the uncompromising attitude of the senator from Virginia, when he said, “We want no concessions.” Equally deplorable, he thought, was the spirit evinced by the senator from New Hampshire who applauded that regrettable remark. “I never intend to give up the hope of saving this Union so long as there is a ray left,” he cried. Why try to force slavery to go where experience has demonstrated that climate is adverse and where the people do not want it? Why prohibit slavery where the government cannot make it exist? “Why break up the Union upon an abstraction?” Let the one side give up its demand for protection and the other for prohibition; and let them unite upon an amendment to the Constitution which shall deny to Congress the power to legislate upon slavery everywhere, except in the matter of fugitive slaves and the African slave-trade. “Do that, and you will have peace; do that, and the Union will last forever; do that, and you do not extend slavery one inch, nor circumscribe it one inch; you do not emancipate a slave, and do not enslave a free-man."

In the course of his eloquent plea for mutual concession, Douglas was repeatedly interrupted by Wigfall of Texas, whose State was at the moment preparing to leave the Union. In ironical tones, Wigfall begged to be informed upon what ground the senator based his hope and belief that the Union would be preserved. Douglas replied, “I see indications every day of a disposition to meet this question now and consider what is necessary to save the Union.” And then, anticipating the sneers of his interrogator, he said sharply, “If the senator will just follow me, instead of going off to Texas; sit here, and act in concert with us Union men, we will make him a very efficient agent in accomplishing that object." But to the obdurate mind of Wigfall this Union talk was “the merest balderdash.” Compromise on the basis of non-intervention, he pronounced “worse than ‘Sewardism,’ for it had hypocrisy and the other was bold and open.” There was, unhappily, only too much truth in his pithy remark that “the apple of discord is offered to us as the fruit of peace.”

It was a sad commentary on the state of the Union that while the six cotton States were establishing the constitution and government of a Southern Confederacy, the Federal Senate was providing for the territorial organization of that great domain whose acquisition had been the joint labor of all the States. Three Territories were projected. In one of these, Colorado, a provisional government had already been set up by the mining population of the Pike’s Peak country. To the Colorado bill Douglas interposed serious objections. By its provisions, the southern boundary cut off a portion of New Mexico, which was slave Territory, and added it to Colorado. At the same time a provision in the bill prevented the territorial legislature from passing any law to destroy the rights of private property. Was the new Territory of Colorado to be free or slave? Another provision debarred the territorial legislature from condemning private property for public uses. How, then, could Colorado construct even a public road? Still another provision declared that there should be no discrimination in the rate of taxation between different kinds of property. How, then, could Colorado make those necessary exemptions which were to be found on all statute books?

In his encounter with Senator Green, who had succeeded him as chairman of the Committee on Territories, Douglas did not appear to good advantage. It was easy to prove his first objection idle, as there was no slave property in northern New Mexico. As for the other objectionable provisions, all-by your leave!-were to be found in the Washington Territory Act, which had passed through Douglas’s committee without comment.

Douglas proposed a substitute for the Colorado bill, nevertheless, which, besides rectifying these errors,-for such he still deemed them to be,-proposed that the people of the Territory should elect their own officers. He reminded the Senate that the Kansas-Nebraska bill had been sharply criticised, because while professing to recognize popular sovereignty, it had withheld this power. At that time, however, the governor was also an Indian agent and a Federal officer; now, the two functions were separated. He proposed that, henceforth, the President and Senate should appoint only such officers as performed Federal duties. When Senator Wade suggested that Douglas had experienced a conversion on this point, because he happened to be in opposition to the incoming administration, which would appoint the new territorial officers, Douglas referred to his utterances in the last session, as proof of his disinterestedness in the matter.

Even in his rôle of peace-maker, Douglas could not help remarking that the bill contained not a word about slavery. “I am rejoiced,” he said, somewhat ironically, “to find that the two sides of the House, representing the two sides of the ‘irrepressible conflict,’ find it impossible when they get into power, to practically carry on the government without coming to non-intervention, and saying nothing upon the subject of slavery. Although they may not vote for my proposition, the fact that they have to avow the principle upon which they have fought me for years is the only one upon which they can possibly agree, is conclusive evidence that I have been right in that principle, and that they have been wrong in fighting me upon it."

In the House the Colorado bill was amended by the excision of the clause providing for appeals to the United States Supreme Court in all cases involving title to slaves. Douglas promptly pointed out the significance of this omission. The decisions of the territorial court regarding slavery would now be final. The question of whether the territorial legislature might, or might not, exclude slavery, would now be decided by territorial judges who would be appointed by a Republican President. The Republicans now in control of the Senate were eager to press their advantage. And Douglas had to acquiesce. After all, the practical importance of the matter was not great. No one anticipated that slavery ever would exist in these new Territories.

The substitute which Douglas offered for the Colorado bill, and subsequently for the other territorial bills, deserves more than a passing allusion. Not only was it his last contribution to territorial legislation, but it suggested a far-reaching change in our colonial policy. It was the logical conclusion of popular sovereignty practically applied. Congress was invited to abdicate all but the most meagre power in organizing new Territories. The task of framing an organic act for the government of a Territory was to be left to a convention chosen by adult male citizens who were in actual residence; but this organic law must be republican in form, and in every way subordinate to the Constitution and to all laws and treaties affecting the Indians and the public lands. A Territory so organized was to be admitted into the Union whenever its population should be equal to the unit required for representation in the lower house of Congress. The initiative in taking a preliminary census and calling a territorial convention, was to be taken by the judge of the Federal court in the Territory. The tutelage of the Federal government was thus to be reduced to lowest terms.

Congress was to confine itself to general provisions applicable to all Territories, leaving the formation of new Territories to the caprice of the people in actual residence. This was a generous concession to popular sovereignty; but even so, the paramount authority was still vested in Congress. Congress, and not the people, was to designate the bounds of the Territory; Congress was to pass judgment upon the republicanism of the organic law, and a Federal judge was to set the machinery of popular sovereignty in motion. Obviously the time had passed when Congress would make so radical a departure from precedent. Least of all were the Republican members disposed to weaken the hold of the Federal government upon Territories where the question of slavery might again become acute.

While the House was unwilling to vote for a submission of the Crittenden propositions to a popular vote, it did propose an amendment denying to Congress the power to interfere with the domestic institutions of any State. Not being in any sense a concession, but only an affirmation of a widely accepted principle, this amendment passed the House easily enough. Yet in his rôle of compromiser, Douglas made much of this vote. He called Senator Mason’s attention to two great facts-“startling, tremendous facts-that they [the Republicans] have abandoned their aggressive policy in the Territories and are willing to give guarantees in the States.” These “ought to be accepted as an evidence of a salutary change in public opinion at the North." Now if the Republican party would only offer a similar guarantee, by a constitutional amendment, that they would never revive their aggressive policy toward slavery in the Territories!

As the February days wore away, Douglas became less hopeful of peaceable adjustment through compromise. If he had counted upon large concessions from Seward, he was disappointed. If he had entertained hopes of the Peace Conference, he had also erred grievously. He became more and more assured that the forces making against peace were from the North as well as the South. He told the Senate on February 21st, that there was “a deliberate plot to break up this Union under pretense of preserving it." Privately he feared the influence of some of Mr. Lincoln’s advisers, who were hostile to Seward. “What the Blairs really want,” he said hotly to a friend, “is a civil war." With many another well-wisher he deplored the secret entrance of Mr. Lincoln into the capital. It seemed to him both weak and undignified, when the situation called for a conciliatory, but firm, front.

With an absence of personal pique which did him credit, he determined to take the first opportunity to warn Mr. Lincoln of the dangers of his position. Douglas knew Lincoln far better than the average Washington politician. To an acquaintance who lamented the apparent weakness of the President-elect, Douglas said emphatically, “No, he is not that, Sir; but he is eminently a man of the atmosphere which surrounds him. He has not yet got out of Springfield, Sir.... He he does not know that he is President-elect of the United States, Sir, he does not see that the shadow he casts is any bigger now than it was last year. It will not take him long to find it out when he has got established in the White House."

The ready tact of Mrs. Douglas admirably seconded the initiative of her husband. She was among the first to call upon Mrs. Lincoln, thereby setting the example for the ladies of the opposition. A little incident, to be sure; but in critical hours, the warp and woof of history is made up of just such little acts of thoughtful courtesy. Washington society understood and appreciated the gracious spirit of Adele Cutts Douglas; and even the New York press commented upon the incident with satisfaction.

That Seward and his friends were no less alarmed than Douglas, at the prospect of Lincoln’s falling under the influence of the coercionists, is a matter of record. There were, indeed, two factions contending for mastery over the incoming administration. So far as an outsider could do so, Douglas was willing to lend himself to the schemes of the Seward faction, for in so doing he was obviously promoting the cause of peace. Three days after Lincoln’s arrival Douglas called upon him; and on the following evening (February 27th) he sought another private interview. They had long known each other; and politics aside, Lincoln entertained a high opinion of Douglas’s fairmindedness and common sense. They talked earnestly about the Peace Conference and the efforts of extremists in Congress to make it abortive. Each knew the other to be a genuine lover of the Union. Upon this common basis of sentiment they could converse without reservations.

Douglas was agitated and distressed. Compromise was now impossible in Congress. He saw but one hope. With great earnestness he urged Lincoln to recommend the instant calling of a national convention to amend the Constitution. Upon the necessity of this step Douglas and Seward agreed. But Lincoln would not commit himself to this suggestion, without further consideration. “It is impossible not to feel,” wrote an old acquaintance, after hearing Douglas’s account of this interview, “that he [Douglas] really and truly loves his country in a way not too common, I fear now, in Washington."

The Senate remained in continuous session from Saturday, March 2d, until the oath of office was taken by Vice-President Hamlin on Monday morning. During these eventful hours, the Crittenden amendments were voted down; and when the venerable senator from Kentucky made a final effort to secure the adoption of the resolution of the Peace Congress, which was similar to his own, it too was decisively defeated. In the closing hours of the session, however, in spite of the opposition of irreconcilables like Sumner, Wade, and Wilson, the Senate adopted the amendment which had passed the House, limiting the powers of Congress in the States.

While Union-loving men were thus wrestling with a forlorn hope, Douglas was again closeted with Lincoln. It is very probable that Douglas was invited to call, in order to pass judgment upon certain passages in the inaugural address, which would be delivered on the morrow. At all events, Douglas exhibited a familiarity with portions of the address, which can hardly be accounted for in other ways. He expressed great satisfaction with Lincoln’s statement of the invalidity of secession. It would do, he said, for all constitutional Democrats to “brace themselves against." He frankly announced that he would stand by Mr. Lincoln in a temperate, resolute Union policy.

On the forenoon of Inauguration Day, Douglas told a friend that he meant to put himself as prominently forward in the ceremonies as he properly could, and to leave no doubt in any one’s mind of his determination to stand by the administration in the performance of its first great duty to maintain the Union. “I watched him carefully,” records this same acquaintance. “He made his way not without difficulty-for there was literally no sort of order in the arrangements-to the front of the throng directly beside Mr. Lincoln, when he prepared to read his address. A miserable little rickety table had been provided for the President, on which he could hardly find room for his hat, and Senator Douglas, reaching forward, took it with a smile and held it during the delivery of the address. It was a trifling act, but a symbolical one, and not to be forgotten, and it attracted much attention all around me."

At least one passage in the inaugural address was framed upon suggestions made by Douglas. Contrary to his original intention, Lincoln went out of his way to say, “I cannot be ignorant of the fact that many worthy and patriotic citizens are desirous of having the National Constitution amended. While I make no recommendation of amendments, I fully recognize the rightful authority of the people over the whole subject, to be exercised in either of the modes prescribed in the instrument itself; and I should, under existing circumstances, favor rather than oppose a fair opportunity being afforded the people to act upon it. I will venture to add that to me the convention mode seems preferable, in that it allows amendments to originate with the people themselves, instead of only permitting them to take or reject propositions originated by others, not especially chosen for the purpose, and which might not be precisely such as they would wish to either accept or refuse. I understand a proposed amendment to the Constitution-which amendment, however, I have not seen-has passed Congress, to the effect that the Federal Government shall never interfere with the domestic institutions of the States, including that of persons held to service. To avoid misconstruction of what I have said, I depart from my purpose, not to speak of particular amendments, so far as to say that, holding such a provision to now be implied constitutional law, I have no objection to its being made express and irrevocable."

In the original draft of his address, written before he came to Washington, Lincoln had dismissed with scant consideration the notion of a constitutional amendment: “I am not much impressed with the belief that the present Constitution can be improved. I am rather for the old ship, and the chart of the old pilots." Sometime after his interview with Douglas, Lincoln struck out these words and inserted the paragraph already quoted, rejecting at the same time a suggestion from Seward.

The curious and ubiquitous correspondents of the New York press, always on the alert for straws to learn which way the wind was blowing, made much of Douglas’s conspicuous gallantry toward Mrs. Lincoln. He accompanied her to the inaugural ball and unhesitatingly defended his friendliness with the President’s household, on the ground that Mr. Lincoln “meant to do what was right.” To one press agent, eager to have his opinion of the inaugural, Douglas said, “I defend the inaugural if it is as I understand it, namely, an emanation from the brain and heart of a patriot, and as I mean, if I know myself, to act the part of a patriot, I endorse it."

On March 6th, while Republican senators maintained an uncertain and discreet silence respecting the inaugural address, Douglas rose to speak in its defense. Senator Clingman had interpreted the President’s policy in terms of his own emotions: there was no doubt about it, the inaugural portended war. “In no wise,” responded Douglas with energy: “It is a peace-offering rather than a war message.” In all his long congressional career there is nothing that redounds more to Douglas’s everlasting credit than his willingness to defend the policy of his successful rival, while men of Lincoln’s own party were doubting what manner of man the new President was and what his policy might mean. Nothing could have been more adroit than Douglas’s plea for the inaugural address. He did not throw himself into the arms of the administration and betray his intimate acquaintance with the plans of the new President. He spoke as the leader of the opposition, critically and judiciously. He had read the inaugural with care; he had subjected it to a critical analysis; and he was of the opinion that it was characterized by ability and directness on certain points, but by lack of explicitness on others. He cited passages that he deemed equivocal and objectionable. Nevertheless he rejoiced to read one clause which was evidently the key to the entire document:

“The course here indicated will be followed unless current events and experience shall show a modification or change to be proper, and in every case and exigency my best discretion will be exercised according to circumstances actually existing, and with a view and a hope of a peaceful solution of the national troubles, and the restoration of fraternal sympathies and affections."

By the terms of his message, too, the President was pledged to favor such amendments as might originate with the people for the settlement of the slavery question,-even if the settlement should be repugnant to the principles of his party. Mr. Lincoln should receive the thanks of all Union-loving men for having “sunk the partisan in the patriot.” The voice of Douglas never rang truer than when he paid this tribute to his rival’s honesty and candor.

“I do not wish it to be inferred,” he said in conclusion,... “that I have any political sympathy with his administration, or that I expect any contingency can happen in which I may be identified with it. I expect to oppose his administration with all my energy on those great principles which have separated parties in former times; but on this one question-that of preserving the Union by a peaceful solution of our present difficulties; that of preventing any future difficulties by such an amendment of the Constitution as will settle the question by an express provision-if I understand his true intent and meaning, I am with him."

But neither President Lincoln nor Douglas had committed himself on the concrete question upon which hung peace or war-what should be done about Fort Sumter and Fort Pickens. The point was driven home with relentless vigor by Wigfall, who still lingered in the Senate after the secession of his State. “Would the Senator who is speaking for the administration say explicitly, whether he would advise the withdrawal of the troops from the forts?” The reply of Douglas was admirable: “As I am not in their counsels nor their confidence, I shall not tender them my advice until they ask it.... I do not choose either, to proclaim what my policy would be, in view of the fact that the Senator does not regard himself as the guardian of the honor and interests of my country, but is looking to the interests of another, which he thinks is in hostility to this country. It would hardly be good policy or wisdom for me to reveal what I think ought to be our policy, to one who may so soon be in the counsels of the enemy, and the command of its armies."

Douglas did admit, however, that since the garrison of Fort Sumter had provisions for only thirty days, he presumed no attempt would be made to reinforce it. Under existing circumstances the President had no power to collect the revenues of the government and no military force sufficient to reinforce Sumter. Congress was not in session to supply either the necessary coercive powers or troops. He therefore drew the conclusion that not only the President himself was pacific in his policy, but the Republican party as well, despite the views of individual members. “But,” urged Mason of Virginia, “I ask the Senator, then, what is to be done with the garrison if they are in a starving condition?” “If the Senator had voted right in the last presidential election,” replied Douglas good-naturedly, “I should have been in a condition, perhaps, to tell him authoritatively what ought to be done.”

From this moment on, Douglas enjoyed the confidence of President Lincoln to an extraordinary degree. No one knew better than Lincoln the importance of securing the cooeperation of so influential a personage. True, by the withdrawal of Southern senators, the Democratic opposition had been greatly reduced; but Douglas was still a power in this Democratic remnant. Besides, the man who could command the suffrages of a million voters was not a force lightly to be reckoned with. After this speech of the 6th, Lincoln again sent for Douglas, to express his entire agreement with its views and with its spirit. He gave Douglas the impression that he desired to gain time for passions to cool by removing the causes of irritation. He felt confident that there would soon be a general demand for a national convention where all existing differences could be radically treated. “I am just as ready,” Douglas reported him to have said, “to reinforce the garrisons at Sumter and Pickens or to withdraw them, as I am to see an amendment adopted protecting slavery in the Territories or prohibiting slavery in the Territories. What I want is to get done what the people desire to have done, and the question for me is how to find that out exactly." On this point they were in entire accord.

The patriotic conduct of Douglas earned for him the warm commendation of Northern newspapers, many of which had hitherto been incapable of ascribing honorable motives to him. No one who met him at the President’s levees would have suspected that he had been one of his host’s most relentless opponents. A correspondent of the New York Times described him as he appeared at one of these functions. “Here one minute, there the next-now congratulating the President, then complimenting Mrs. Lincoln, bowing and scraping, and shaking hands, and smiling, laughing, yarning and saluting the crowd of people whom he knew.” More soberly, this same observer added, “He has already done a great deal of good to the administration." It is impossible to find the soured and discomfited rival in this picture.

The country was anxiously awaiting the development of the policy of the new Executive, for to eight out of every ten men, Lincoln was still an unknown man. Rumors were abroad that both Sumter and Pickens would be surrendered. Seward was known to be conciliatory on this point; and the man on the street never once doubted that Seward would be the master-mind in the cabinet. Those better informed knew-and Douglas was among them-that Seward’s influence was menaced by an aggressive faction in the cabinet. Behind these official advisers, giving them active support, were those Republican senators who from the first had doubted the efficacy of compromise.

Believing the country should have assurances that President Lincoln did not meditate war,-did not, in short, propose to yield to the aggressive wing of his party,-Douglas sought to force a show of hands. On March 13th, he offered a resolution which was designed to draw the fire of Republican senators. The Secretary of War was requested to furnish information about the Southern forts now in possession of the Federal government; to state whether reinforcements were needed to retain them; whether under existing laws the government had the power and means to reinforce them, and whether it was wise to retain military possession of such forts and to recapture those that had been lost, except for the purpose of subjugating and occupying the States which had seceded; and finally, if such were the motives, to supply estimates of the military force required to reduce the seceding States and to protect the national capital. The wording of the resolution was purposely involved. Douglas hoped that it would precipitate a discussion which would disclose the covert wish of the aggressives, and force an authoritative announcement of President Lincoln’s policy. Doubtless there was a political motive behind all this. Douglas was not averse to putting his bitter and implacable enemies in their true light, as foes of compromise even to the extent of disrupting the Union.

Not receiving any response, Douglas took the floor in defense of his resolution. He believed that the country should have the information which his resolution was designed to elicit. The people were apprehensive of civil war. He had put his construction upon the President’s inaugural; but “the Republican side of the Chamber remains mute and silent, neither assenting nor dissenting.” The answer which he believed the resolution would call forth, would demonstrate two points of prime importance: “First, that the President does not meditate war; and, secondly, that he has no means for prosecuting a warfare upon the seceding States, even if he desired.”

With his wonted dialectic skill Douglas sought to establish his case. The existing laws made no provision for collecting the revenue on shipboard. It was admitted on all sides that collection at the port of entry in South Carolina was impossible. The President had no legal right to blockade the port of Charleston. He could not employ the army to enforce the laws in the seceded States, for the military could be used only to aid a civil process; and where was the marshal in South Carolina to execute a writ? The President must have known that he lacked these powers. He must have referred to the future action of Congress, then, when he said that he should execute the laws in all the States, unless the “requisite means were withheld.” But Congress had not passed laws empowering the Executive to collect revenue or to gain possession of the forts. What, then, was the inference? Clearly this, that the Republican senators did not desire to confer these powers.

If this inference is not correct, if this interpretation of the inaugural address is faulty, urged Douglas, why preserve this impenetrable silence? Why not let the people know what the policy of the administration is? They have a right to know. “The President of the United States holds the destiny of this country in his hands. I believe he means peace, and war will be averted, unless he is overruled by the disunion portion of his party. We all know the irrepressible conflict is going on in their camp.... Then, throw aside this petty squabble about how you are to get along with your pledges before election; meet the issues as they are presented; do what duty, honor, and patriotism require, and appeal to the people to sustain you. Peace is the only policy that can save the country or save your party."

On the Republican side of the chamber, this appeal was bitterly resented. It met with no adequate response, because there was none to give; but Wilson roundly denounced it as a wicked, mischief-making utterance. Unhappily, Douglas allowed himself to be drawn into a personal altercation with Fessenden, in which he lost his temper and marred the effect of his patriotic appeal. There was probably some truth in Douglas’s charge that both senators intended to be personally irritating. Under the circumstances, it was easier to indulge in personal disparagement of Douglas, than to meet his embarrassing questions.

How far Douglas still believed in the possibility of saving the Union through compromise, it is impossible to say. Publicly he continued to talk in an optimistic strain. On March 25th, he expressed his satisfaction in the Senate that only one danger-point remained; Fort Sumter, he understood, was to be evacuated. But among his friends no one looked into the future with more anxiety than he. Intimations from the South that citizens of the United States would probably be excluded from the courts of the Confederacy, wrung from him the admission that such action would be equivalent to war. He noted anxiously the evident purpose of the Confederated States to coerce Kentucky and Virginia into secession. Indeed, it is probable that before the Senate adjourned, his ultimate hope was to rally the Union men in the border States.

When President Lincoln at last determined to send supplies to Fort Sumter, the issue of peace or war rested with Jefferson Davis and his cabinet at Montgomery. Early on the morning of April 12th, a shell, fired from a battery in Charleston harbor, burst directly over Fort Sumter, proclaiming to anxious ears the close of an era.