A Special Providence

coz1 - Pierce was truly in Hell, and at least now he is out of it.

Jesse Bright is an interesting fellow, right enough.

In ordinary circumstances the death of an incumbent President scarcely a month before his Party’s nominating convention would have brought havoc to the Party’s chances in the general election. The death of Franklin Pierce did cause some turmoil, but not as much as one might have thought nor for the expected causes. Given his personal problems and erratic behavior the Democratic leadership was already unwilling to sanction a second term for Pierce no matter how pliable and accommodating he might be. Major figures in the Democratic Party had been positioning themselves for a year or more, with greater or lesser success as events unfolded.

The perennial favorite, Stephen Douglas, expected to receive the grateful support of a solid South for his introduction of the Kansas-Nebraska Acts. Coupled with his personal popularity in the West and a reasonable turnout in historic Democratic strongholds like Pennsylvania and New Jersey, Douglas expected to cruise through the election without expending much effort. But the reported horrors of Bleeding Kansas, the repeated attempts to rig the voting in favor of a constitution that would enshrine slavery, and the failure of the territorial governor to curb pro-slavery border ruffians riding over from Missouri had alienated any Democratic support for Douglas north of Virginia. And when at last Douglas did speak out against the violence in Kansas most of the South turned from him also. “The lasting legacy of John C Calhoun,” Douglas wrote to a friend, “is that dissent of any kind is called betrayal and treason, while any action that advances slavery, no matter how foul, is greeted with hosannas.”

James Buchanan had been a major figure in the Pierce administration, serving as Secretary of State, but had managed to keep well clear of the Kansas-Nebraska Act and its consequences. His home state of Pennsylvania was for him and he had supporters in the important surrounding states of Ohio, New York and New Jersey. Although he was old in comparison to his rivals Buchanan possessed experience at every level of government, having served as Representative and Senator from Pennsylvania in addition to holding numerous cabinet level positions and ambassadorial posts. The recent conclusion of the war with Russia, from which the United States had secured the vast territory of Alaska, was largely credited to Buchanan, whose connections with Her Majesty’s Government had added British influence to the American negotiations. Scarcely six months later a conference of British and American officials had largely settled the remaining points of issue over Mexico and the two nations had agreed to assist each other in all affairs in the Western Hemisphere. But despite – or perhaps because – of his lengthy service, Buchanan was a fundamentally unexciting and uninteresting candidate, respected by his supporters but unable to rouse them to enthusiasm.

As Franklin Pierce had been a dark horse coming from behind to win the previous race so Jesse Bright was the surprise presence among the candidates. The founding fathers had set forth a mechanism to ensure the executive office was never vacant, but no-one had really supposed that both President and Vice-President could fall in the same four years. Despite the odds, this had happened: Rufus deVane King and then Franklin Pierce had died and Senator Jesse Bright of Indiana, formerly President Pro Tem of the Senate, had become the 13th President of the United States and the nominal leader of the Democratic Party. Most observers thought Bright would serve out the remaining months of Pierce’s term as a placeholder, quietly giving way to a more prominent Democrat who had, by years of service, earned the right to the highest office. Those who knew Jesse Bright well, however, had no such expectation; Bright was well known in Indiana for his hard-charging style and knack for political in-fighting.

Despite threats of a challenge to the law that put a member of Congress in line for the executive seat, and over the rumbling and grumbling of the Party elders, Bright was pushing hard to secure support for his selection. His base in the West was secure in Indiana, and other than casting a vote in favor of the measure he had no hand in the Kansas-Nebraska Act or the aftermath. If anything Bleeding Kansas had helped his cause, for the resignation of Pierce’s territorial governor prompted Bright to send legendary Texas lawman Albert Sidney Johnston, accompanied by a regiment of dragoons under the command of Robert E Lee. Within days of his arrival Johnston had persuaded the Missouri bushwhackers to return home at least temporarily, with a warning that more of their lawless violence might tip the election against the Democrats. Taking note of the grizzled Indian-fighters now patrolling the banks of the Missouri and Platte Rivers, most of the roughnecks followed his advice. In this Bright proved himself capable and effective, and newspaper articles quickly noted the decline in violence and gave the new President the credit. Also, there was an undercurrent of popular feeling that Bright had been thrust into the job without warning and deserved a term of his own so that he might fairly prove his elevation was deserved. Mixed with a portion of regret and pity for poor Pierce, whipped up to a froth by the sensational element of the press, this translated into a large sympathy vote for Bright.

The Democratic convention opened in June 0f 1856 in a new hall on the bank of the Ohio River at Louisville, Kentucky. What would have been vital issues in earlier campaigns were gaveled through at breakneck speed; none of the attendees cared much anymore for the tariff, or internal improvements, or any of the other issues of the past. As the issues that had propelled past campaigns had faded in importance, gone too were the parties that had championed those ideas. For a year or more the Democrats had known they would face a new challenger in this election, a new assemblage calling themselves Republicans. A motley conglomeration of mossback Whigs, orphaned Know Nothings and disillusioned Democrats from the northern and border states, mixed with a leavening of the growing numbers of abolitionists, these elements were united by one common desire and one only: opposition to the extension of slavery.

Hence the issue before the Democratic convention was a simple one. Given the united support of the South, which candidate would best be able to woo the wavering Democrats of the North and West and so secure the Presidency for another four years? The first ballot set the tone: 132 votes for Buchanan, 120 votes for Bright and only 64 for Douglas. So it went, ballot after ballot, while the campaign managers met and bargained. Given the recent personal animosity between Buchanan and Bright no compromise could be made there, leaving Douglas the sour solace of playing the Kingmaker. Having secured Bright’s pledge to repudiate any constitution from Kansas that was not ratified by the people, Douglas threw his support to Bright on the 47th ballot, embittering his relations with Buchanan for the remainder of their lives.

The Republican convention was also held in June, but physically and emotionally it was miles away from the Democratic dog-fight in Kentucky. Meeting in Philadelphia helped remind the delegates of the sacrifices and accomplishments of the founders and filled them with a zealous regard to keep those ideals alive. As it was their first-ever convention, and as the disparate elements of the former parties had never met save perhaps to hurl insults at one another, the atmosphere was more studiedly courteous and conciliatory than that of Louisville. Another striking contrast was the relative lack of serious contenders for the nomination; for their maiden voyage it seemed no Republican wanted the responsibility of being captain. The truth was that the various factions had agreed to pool their strength to defeat a common enemy but no group was willing to pass the nomination to another. In particular, men such as William Seward and Salmon Chase were seen as too radical, too strongly abolitionist, for their detriment in a general election. As a remedy the powerbrokers resorted to a time-tested trick of Presidential politics: pick a handsome and charming man with no political history and, if possible, some past military experience. The mantle – or the blame, should he lose – was thus passed to John Charles Fremont. A Georgian by birth, a Californian by choice, Fremont was famous for his role in exploring and surveying the West and for his seminal role in liberating California during the Mexican War. His almost complete lack of political experience was balanced, it was thought, by having the powerful Missouri senator Thomas Hart Benton as a father-in-law.

The nomination was generally greeted with pleasure and relief, save among the staunch abolitionists who felt taken for granted but who had nowhere else to go. Crowds marched through the streets of Philadelphia that night and for many nights afterward, six and eight abreast in lines that seemed to stretch for miles, hallowed buildings lit by the glow of ten thousand torches, voices chanting in hypnotic unison, “Free Soil! Free Labor! Free Men! Fremont!”

So the lists were drawn and the campaign begun. In the main the disappointed Democratic contenders did little to help their nominated rival; Buchanan resigned as Secretary of State and returned to Pennsylvania in sulky retirement while Douglas gave but five speeches. But on the Republican side, all was different. Despite the incessant charges that voting Republican meant voting for black men to take their jobs and their wives and daughters, Seward, Chase and every other man gave their very all for Fremont.

It was almost – but not quite – enough. Pennsylvania flirted with the Republicans but in the election swung back to her Democratic roots, and by a small but comfortable margin Jesse Bright was elected to a term of his own. Elsewhere the news for Democrats was grim, as Republican candidates triumphed in Congessional and gubernatorial elections across the northern and western states. Despite the bitterness of defeat for the Presidency, Republicans had ample reasons for satisfaction. The coalition had held, the mechanisms had worked nearly to perfection, and the electoral tide was clearly turning. What they needed to secure future victories was for the slave power to give another example of its ruthless self-interest, and for that they had not long to wait.

J. Passepartout - a strong woman is the making of many a man, and the unmaking sometimes as well.

coz1 - you have a definite point and I think Makhearne would have had more to say if it were not a fait accompli. Our young man has some of the rashness of youth; let us see how he matures.

Vann the Red - It'll be a little while before we visit with Anne again. I apologize for using a famous portrait - that is Charlotte Bronte ( ) but it was the best fit I could find.

Fulcrumvale - first we're going to take a peek at Missouri courtesy of Ronsend's reporter. Then we'll talk about what the Democrats get up to from '56 to '60, and I think her name might come up.

Stuyvesant- Let me take these in order.

General Scott will be with us for one more curtain call, but he is elderly and not in good physical shape. Grant looks after him as best he can but the General is not easily managed.

The amazing thing is that I had no combat with Russia. France bowed out and sent her troops as an expeditionary force to the Turks, who bowed out and sent their army to Britain. Having occupied all of the Pacific Russian provinces I asked nicely for peace. I had high relations with Russia, so they let me out. Then Britain - who did have the Crimea and a fair chunk on the Baltic - made peace for no territorial gain as far as I know.

Immediately after that I got a diplo conference, major boosts for relations with Mexico and Britain, and a defensive alliance with Britain. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Ronsend's wife is intelligent but you will notice that she lets Ronsend and Makhearne do most of the talking. Makhearne is disadvantaged because the other two have obviously talked out their ideas at length while he is getting it all in one blast.

Makhearne's astonishment is more because the idea is coming from a contemporary woman. He has a high regard for capable women, he just hasn't met many in the current day and age.

PS - Why are all of you so determined that there has to be a Civil War? Read Bright's biography...

coz1 - why play this scenario without one? Um... maybe to see what happens?

The South is pushing hard and the North is getting tired of being pushed. So we shall see what happens... soon.

TheExecuter - I'm not sure I got the order right but I think that's pretty close to the actual 'campaign chant' of 1856. Must have been awesome to see thousands marching in the streets, chanting... and a little creepy.

Fulcrumvale - Yessir! Um... well, not now. But soon!

Stuyvesant - One constant of the Presidents before the Civil War was the Northern-born tilted heavily to the South and the Southern-born vice versa. Since Bright is from Indiana I think we can assume he will be sympathetic to the cause of slavery. Just one of the many things of that era that make my head hurt.

J. Passepartout - I'm not able to say much more without giving away some things I'd prefer to hold back. Just... keep an open mind.

He was a puzzlement, the citizens of Lecompton said, and with only a slight difference in their choice of words the good people of Lawrence agreed. Separated by less than 20 miles, and united in their opinion of the stranger in their midst, the two towns were none the less poles apart in every other respect.

Lecompton was intended from its inception for greatness. One large lot along the Kansas River had been set aside for a stately and spacious capital, with construction to begin whenever the new pro-slavery constitution was approved by the national Congress. Named for an ardently pro-slavery judge, Lecompton was the favored gathering spot for the men who rode over from Missouri whenever ballot boxes needed stuffing or abolitionist farmsteads required a torch. A rough, typical western town was Lecompton – shaggy, sprawling, unkempt and gone slightly to seed, with muddy streets and shady trees and a wide streak of hot tempered violence underneath.

Lawrence was named for the abolitionist family of textile magnates half a continent away in Massachusetts. It was prim, trim, clean and proper, with streets laid out in a sensible grid, houses neatly whitewashed, gardens carefully tended. A thoroughly typical New England mill town, it was, set down perhaps by a vagrant tornado on the Kansas prairie, sensible and well-mannered and yet somewhat astonished to be there. One large tract was set aside for a university, a luxury beyond the dreams of other western towns but merely a hopeful expectation for Lawrence.

The collision of these two cultures in Kansas had already sparked a border war and given birth to the expression ‘Bleeding Kansas’. It was a war in which there could be no accommodation and no quarter, for the rules laid down by the Popular Sovereignty provisions of the Kansas-Nebraska Act were clear. Victory would go to the side that could muster the most votes, whether by honest immigration or by swindle and violence. The prize would be the establishment of slavery, or its prohibition, in Kansas. Both sides were led by able men, both were well funded, and both were filled with righteous zeal for the destruction of the other. It was, as the new reporter had said, only a wonder that they hadn’t killed each other off already, though he supposed in the long run it would make no great difference as in Kansas the dead voted in greater numbers and rather more often than the living.

1856 had seen violence enough, with hard-bitten roughnecks riding over from Missouri to burn the abolitionists out. The free-soil men had proven better equipped than expected, with brand-new Sharps rifles and plentiful ammunition ready to hand. Farmsteads had been burned and livestock killed but more than one Missouri bushwhacker had found to his eternal sorrow that the men – and women – who held those rifles had the nerve and skill to use them. A hotel in Lawrence had been torched. Someone had roamed the riverside farms of pro-slavery settlers and taken off their heads with a big, sharp sword in the dead of a moonless night. One territorial governor had been driven to despair and resignation. The convention that was supposed to draw up the constitution for the new territory was packed – literally by gunpoint – with pro-slavery men, many who did not live in Kansas and never expect to reside there. The men of Lawrence and the other free-soil towns boycotted the proceedings despite the pleadings of the governor and drew up their own constitution instead. The two documents had arrived in Washington in the middle of election season and had promptly been tabled. President Pierce’s shocking death and the unsettling rise of the Republican tide had convinced the Democratic Party elders that Kansas had better be cooled down and left alone until after the elections. Then, with presumable Democratic majorities in both houses, a President of the same party and a Supreme Court packed by pro-southern Democrats, then after the election they might revisit the subject of Kansas to better effect.

Understanding full well that reports of savage atrocities tended to help the anti-slavery forces most, President Bright tapped the most famous lawman of the age, Texas Ranger Albert Sidney Johnston, and sent him to Kansas to restore order. With the new territorial governor would go another regiment of US dragoons and a seasoned commander, Robert E Lee. Almost overnight, normalcy returned to Kansas, and with the end of violence came an end to the lurid and sensational reports of those crimes. Only a few newsmen had come West to see what the fuss was about, and almost all of those decided the time had come to move on in search of other issues. One in particular remained, though he too might have moved on had it not been for the urging of his editor and the regular stipend from the New York ‘Telegraph’.

He was indeed a puzzlement, this young would-be newsman. He was not particularly tall, nor could he afford to be stylishly dressed. His upper lip was graced by a sprawling, bushy moustache of the same vivid auburn red as the hair on his head. He walked with a rolling frontier gait, was willing to converse with anyone who had the time, and while he possessed no fine manners he was never cruel or rude. A Missouri frontier twang defined his speech, which alarmed the citizens of Lawrence and gladdened those of Lecompton, but rough talk covered a wit that could cut like a whip. In the company of a man who was extolling the virtues of slavery the reporter proposed that, if it was such a fine existence the man should forego his present toil and strife and try it for himself. This riposte was widely quoted in the two towns: approvingly, in Lawrence, and with disdain in Lecompton.

Once the election was over and the Democrats were still in control of the Senate and the Presidency, Lee and his dragoons had been sent farther west. The roughriders were again abroad, their presence marked by pillars of smoke in the day and the glow of fire in the night. But every day seemed to bring more wagons loaded with settlers and their goods, settlers determined to till the soil without the competition of slave labor. Most estimates were that free-soil voters now outnumbered the pro-slavery men by three or even four to one. But by trickery, fraud and ‘the ballot of the bullet’, the Lecompton forces passed another pro-slavery constitution and sent it to Washington for consideration, blandly dodging the administration’s request that the convention submit the constitution to the people as a referendum. Disgusted at the bald-faced deceit and rampant hypocrisy, Albert Johnston resigned as territorial governor and returned to Texas. In Washington, Stephen Douglas reminded Bright of his pledge, only to be told that, “It is for the President to determine the policy in Kansas, sir, and it ill befits the architect of that policy to speak against the manner of construction of it.”

Almost simultaneously the administration sent two measures to the new Congress, both of which would force Democrats to declare themselves as loyal or outcast. The first would repeal the portion of the Fugitive Slave Act that permitted the payment of a fixed fee to set free anyone accused of being a fugitive slave. The second was another pro-slavery Lecompton constitution, which now provided that slavery was ‘established eternally’ and which explicitly forbade any future amendment to the contrary. In the midst of the debate came news of the Battle of Lawrence: thousands of pro-slavery men had descended on the little town with rifles in hand and extermination in mind, only to be met by a determined and capable militia emplaced in buildings reinforced with logs and sod. The result was a bloodbath that left half of Lawrence in smoking ruins and the bodies of the attackers piled in the streets. One week later someone burned down Lecompton; whether it was frustrated bushwhackers, drunk and letting off steam, or vindictive free-soilers, was never established. On the heels of this bloody debacle came the ‘great speech’ of Massachusetts Senator Charles Sumner, a speech so incendiary that even his friends urged him to temper the rhetoric. Calling out members of the opposition by name, Sumner gave such a denunciation of ‘the harlot, slavery’ that southern senators stalked out en masse. Later in the week Congressman Preston Brooks of South Carolina set at Sumner in the Senate chamber, bludgeoning him with his cane. Men of both parties rushed into the melee and casualties were averted solely because most of the combatants were aged and past their physical prime. Sumner was bloodied about the head and had an arm broken; Brooks received a cut on his cheek that healed in a disfiguring scar and lost several teeth. As shocking as the fracas was the torrent of vitriol from both newspapers North and South, an indication that the disagreement over slavery had become determined hostility.

After a series of titanic battles lit chiefly by the pyrotechnic orations of Douglas it became apparent that the Republicans and disaffected Democrats could not muster enough strength to defeat the first measure. Henceforth, men tried as fugitive slaves could only be found guilty and shipped South or – rarely – found innocent and left alone. But by skillfully trading votes, the Lecompton constitution was decisively shelved; the lack of a popular referendum and the reports of bald-faced electoral fraud having sealed its fate. There would be no statehood for Kansas this year, and perhaps not for a long time to come.

Meanwhile, out in Kansas the youngest reporter of the New York ‘Telegraph’ spent his time regaling the people of the two towns with funny stories, of which he seemed to have an infinite supply. They never noticed how carefully he listened to what they said and watched what they did. Sometimes they recognized themselves in the acidulous columns of ‘Adelphious K Blab’, or any of a dozen other squibs he was prone to use, but he was so charming and so funny they laughed even when they were the butt of the joke. Somehow the young reporter managed to literally dodge the flying bullets and avoid the burning buildings that marked the Kansas of 1857. But by the close of the year even the worst atrocities of Kansas no longer possessed the power to shock: free-soil men expected no better of the slave power and pro-slavery men knew they could look only for death from the abolitionists. In his last column, which due to the slow speed of the post arrived long after he had departed, the young man ripped into the hypocrisies of both sides. “The men who extol the virtues of slavery, and carol on about the free and easy life of happy slaves on the old plantation, carry whips and pistols with which to ensure the Negro does not accidentally deprive himself of this happiness. For their part, the free-soil man is proud to claim the Negro as his equal in all things, so long as said Negro betakes himself to live somewhere far away from his white brothers.” For that final column from Kansas he put his own name on the byline, Sam Clemens, for all to see, and when he left poor bleeding Kansas he left no doubt he never intended to return.