Confederate Union

by Alan Sewell

  Davis rationalized, as Douglas had hoped he would, that if Mexico was going to be conquered by some power in any event, it would be better for Americans to do it than Europeans.

  Who knows but that the Mexicans might come around to the idea of owning Negro slaves? The Cherokees are prospering out in the Indian Territory with the slave labor of the Negroes they bought from us. Perhaps the Mexicans will assimilate into our Southern slave system as successfully as they did.

  Davis’ thoughts turned next to his own country. He, like everybody else, understood that the United States was nearing its breaking point. He blamed that on the increasing belligerence of Free State Abolitionists. Perhaps it would be best if the South broke its ties with the Free States altogether and went off into an independent Southern Republic. In a country of their own they wouldn’t have to put up with insolent Abolitionists nor fight with them in Congress whenever they wanted to obtain new lands for slavery. Southern “Fire Eaters” like William Yancey, Robert Rhett, and Edmund Ruffin saw it that way.

  But Davis considered himself to be a moderate and patriotic Union-loving man. He had many friends in the North and was accustomed to the applause of cheering crowds when he spoke in Northern cities. He knew many Northerners who loved the Union and felt as Southerners did that the United States was a white man’s country whose proper station for Negroes was slavery. If the South tried to leave the Union its friends in the North might turn against it.

  Davis grudgingly conceded that Douglas had concocted a well-considered plan.

  It will take the wind out of the sails of our Southern Secessionists. It will also demoralize the Northern Abolitionists, proving to them the utter futility of trying to stick their noses in our institution of slavery. It will unite our patriotic, expansion-minded men of all sections who are pleased to acquire more territory without regard to whether it shall be admitted to the Union as Slate or Free States.

  Finally, Davis had to estimate whether Douglas meant to keep his part of the bargain. Would Douglas back down when confronted by the stubborn opposition of the Abolitionists?

  Douglas is slippery as an eel. But he has promised to make me his Vice President. That will allow me to assume personal command of the militia armies and to insure that they are sent into Mexico as Douglas has promised. This sounds exactly like the kind of scheme Douglas would concoct: giving us Southerners a wink and a nod to annex Mexico while telling the Yankees in private that if they acquiesce in letting the South have Mexico then he will get them the Canadas. Yes, indeed, this is precisely the kind of scheme Douglas revels in! I do believe he will do it!

  The vision of commanding the Southern Army in a triumphal march into Mexico finally decided Davis on accepting the Compact. He looked up at Douglas.

  “I can think of no immediate objection to the substance of your design. Of course I must think on it thoroughly. May I give you my affirmation or rejection in three days?”

  Douglas frowned. “I regret that there isn’t time for that. The Southern Rights men are in full control of the Charleston Convention. They’ve elected Caleb Cushing president of the convention and they’ve put a majority of their men on the platform committee. They are going to break that convention up if we don’t stop them now. I would like you to deliver this Compact to the Charleston Convention and have it read to the delegates before the Southern Rights men destroy the party. It’s best that you leave for Charleston tomorrow, if you possibly can. Think about it on the way. Make your final decision when you get there. But I am telling you most earnestly that if we do not deliver this Compact we are going to lose our party and our country.”

  Davis read the Compact a third time, examining every word.

  “I request one change, then. Replace the words ‘Union of States’ with ‘Confederation of States.’ That will appeal to the sentiments of the Southern delegates.”

  Douglas nodded his assent. The United States was commonly referred to as a Confederation of States in the South, and the expression was not infrequently heard in the North. Douglas thought about revising the wording as Davis had recommended. Then he decided not to cross out “Union” but rather to qualify it by inserting the word “Confederate” in front of it. He made the insertions then signed his copies and gave two of them to Davis to counter-sign and present to the convention if he so decided.

  Davis read the revised Compact. He liked the term “Confederate Union” that described the true nature of the country as a union of sovereign states. He waved for the servant and asked for a rare indulgence of Kentucky Bourbon. He felt a grave responsibility being lifted from his shoulders. Rather than dwelling on the dreadful consequences of secession and civil war he began to imagine himself leading a rejuvenated nation in expanding its territory to the north and south.

  Davis sipped the spirits and felt its warmth go through his body. In that moment his decision was made. He raised his glass.

  “Let’s drink a toast to our glorious and perpetual Confederate Union!”

  2

  Charleston South Carolina, April 28, 1860

  Afternoon Session of the Democratic Party Convention

  William Lowndes Yancey of Alabama mentally rehearsed once again the speech he was about to deliver to the assembled Democrats. He expected it to be remembered as one of the momentous speeches in history, for he intended that it should mark the day of conception of the Southern Republic as a nation of the Earth.

  As he gathered his thoughts Yancey surveyed the six hundred and thirty delegates on the crowded floor of the South Carolina Institute Hall. Above them the galleries were packed with spectators. Above the spectators the windows of the great hall were open to a height of forty feet, showing a sunny blue sky and letting in a fresh draft of sea breeze. Yancey’s gaze returned to the spectators and the delegates. He would have to measure his words carefully, being bold enough to incite the Southern Rights delegates into rebelling against their party and walking out of the convention, but not so inflammatory as to discredit his cause by inciting a riot among the delegates and the packed rows of spectators.

  Yancey remembered the day he had first given this speech, twelve years before to the Democratic Party Convention of 1848 in Baltimore. The primary question before the Democrats then as now had been the disposition of slavery in the western territories. Yancey had insisted that the Democrats adopt a platform requiring that slavery must be allowed to enter into all territories and be protected there by Federal authority.

  Stephen Douglas and the Northern majority took a less extreme position, saying that slavery should be allowed into those territories where a majority of settlers were Southern slaveholders but should not be forced into Territories settled predominantly by Northern Free Soilers.

  Yancey was preparing again to tell the Southern delegates that because they could not trust the Northern Democrats to protect their “right” to bring slaves into all territories they must dissolve the party. They must walk out of this convention and reconvene as a Southern Rights Party that would nominate its own candidate for President. Yancey’s unspoken message was that if the South’s pro-slavery candidate was not elected President then the Southern States would be justified in leaving the Union.

  Yancey remembered that when he had made that same plea in 1848 the majority of Unionist delegates, even those from his own state of Alabama, had shouted him down. Only one other delegate had followed him out of that convention. Yancey had gone back home to Alabama to be ridiculed as a rabble-rousing Secessionist. He had responded to the ridicule by boldly reiterating his message: that if the North continued to block Southerners from taking their slaves into all the territories then the South must look to its interests by leaving the Union and setting itself up as a separate Southern Republic.

  Yancey had repeated his message until events began to favor him. In the mid-1850s there had come “Bleeding Kansas,” the armed conflict between Southern and Northern settlers over whether to allow slaves into Kansas. There had come the rise of the “Black Re
publican” Party dedicated to prohibiting the spread of slavery over a single inch of the Territories. There had come John Brown’s Raid and Abolitionist hopes of instigating a slave uprising in the South. There had come the Supreme Court’s Dred Scott Decision that inflamed the North by declaring slaves to be lawful property in all states and territories. Northerners and Southerners had come to insult each other in the vilest terms and even to physically assault each other in the halls of Congress.

  So many events had broken his way that it seemed to Yancey that Providence must favor his destiny. Destiny had even conspired to have Charleston, the most radical Southern Rights city, selected by the Democrats to host this most important of all political conventions. The galleries were packed with “Fire Eating Secessionists” egged on by Charleston’s radical newspapers. Yancey thanked Providence for arranging events so as to bring him to the exact time and place where his words would have their maximum effect.

  Next to patience, Yancey’s other great virtue was his power of persuasion. Much of it derived from his broad background of life experience. He had been born into a slave owning family in Georgia. After his father’s passing his mother had married a Yankee Abolitionist minister and moved to upstate New York. There Yancey had become a strident nationalist, taking the position that attempts by states to defy Federal authority were treason. As an adult he had returned to the South to settle in Alabama, becoming a Southern Rights man dedicated to the principle that the South must either vindicate its “right” to spread slavery to every inch of the western territories or it must leave the Union.

  Because Yancey had embraced so many diametrically opposing ideas he knew how to make almost any position sound convincing. When he used the phrase “States Rights” he meant:

  “The Federal Government must protect the right of residents of the Southern States to bring our slaves into the Territories. The Federal Government must help us catch our runaway slaves, even if that means invading the homes of Yankees suspected of harboring them. The Federal Government must help us expand our slave territory by conquering Mexico, Central America, and Cuba. The Federal Government must enable us to reopen the African slave trade. But in all other things except slavery the Federal Government must not intrude upon the right of the states to do as they please.”

  Nor did it bother him to deny being a Secessionist while saying that unless the Federal Government followed to the letter his theory of States Rights then the Slave States would be “forced” to secede from the Union. Yancey had learned how to explain all of these contradictions so as to make them sound reasonable to the delegates of the fifteen Southern Slave States he wanted to lead out of the convention and into a new nation. For that matter they sounded reasonable to more than a few Northern men of his party who were every bit as determined as Southerners to keep the Negroes down.

  Yancey had husbanded all his strength for this momentous speech. He exhibited not a trace of nervousness, for he was accustomed to speaking before thousands and tens of thousands. He could sense the anticipation of the delegates and spectators in the galleries, anxious to hear “The Great Orator of the South.”

  He felt a surge of energy swell from within. He was as one with the Southern Rights men and women in his audience in the cause of creating a nation of their own. He half-listened as Convention President Caleb Cushing called the afternoon session to order. In seconds he would be given the floor.

  But then instead of recognizing Yancey, Cushing brought up unannounced business.

  “Honored Delegates, during the intermission I received a communication personally delivered by Senator Jefferson Davis. It is jointly signed by Senator Davis and Senator Douglas. As the communication is both brief and urgent I will read it now.”

  Yancey’s blood ran cold. He stood up and roared, “Mr. President, it is out of order to read a communication when no motion is before the House! I am scheduled to take the floor and I respectfully demand it!”

  In other circumstances Cushing would have deferred to Yancey, Cushing being one of those Northern men who endorsed the South’s views on slavery. But Senator Davis was a trusted personal and political friend. “Mr. Yancey,” he implored, “please, I ask for your patience. The letter is brief. It will require less than half a minute to read.”

  Alabama delegate John A. Winston, a Southern Unionist and long-time Yancey opponent, stood up. “I motion that the letter be read!” He glared at Yancey as he spoke.

  Mississippi delegate Joseph Davis, Jefferson Davis’ nephew, seconded the motion.

  Yancey attempted to interrupt. “The proper way for the gentleman to communicate…”

  “The Chair decides, upon the motion and its second, that as the communication refers strictly to the party platform it will be read!” bellowed Cushing.

  Before Yancey could interrupt again Cushing began reading, his voice rising to a practiced crescendo: “A Letter of Compact between Senators Stephen A. Douglas of Illinois and Jefferson Davis of Mississippi.”

  Absolute quiet descended upon the convention floor and the galleries.

  “Honorable Delegates of the Democracy, assembled in convention at Charleston: be it known that Stephen A. Douglas, a Senator representing the State of Illinois, and Jefferson Davis, a Senator representing the State of Mississippi, do solemnly pledge our united and unwavering support for the nominee to be chosen by our party. We are dedicated to the unity of our party and committed to maintaining with our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor the perpetuity of this Confederate Union of States. We most sincerely implore the honored delegates to likewise dedicate themselves to the unity of our party and to the perpetuity of our Confederate Union. Signed Stephen Douglas and Jefferson Davis.”

  When Cushing finished a tumult erupted from the floor and the galleries. Shouts of “Hear! Hear!” came from the Douglas men and quieter murmurs of “Betrayal!” from a few of Yancey’s Southern Rights delegates.

  Cushing banged his gavel. “This meeting will come to order!” he shouted.

  The noise subsided to a murmur. “The Chair now recognizes the honorable William L. Yancey of Alabama. Mr. Yancey is allotted an hour and a half.”

  Yancey fought to regain his composure. I expected this sort of nonsense from Douglas, but what has got into Davis? I planned for him to be the first President of our Southern Republic! What did Douglas promise to convince him to betray his future as well as ours!

  Yancey’s breathing was shallow and his heart raced. His mouth went bone dry. He feared his legs would buckle. “Gentlemen of the Convention…..” he blushed as his voice squeaked. He coughed and had to start again. “Gentlemen of the Convention, my state has now to ask of this body the adoption of resolutions….”

  As Yancey remembered his carefully rehearsed lines his voice became calmer. He remembered to manifest the proper demeanor of a reasonable man appearing to have been wronged. He regained his carefully crafted cadence. He claimed that he was not a dis-unionist and did not know any. He alleged that dis-unionist sentiment sprang from the North because Northern Democrats had failed to do their duty to stamp out Abolitionist sentiment before it became strong in their states.

  He said that Northerners had no right to complain about slavery, “the highest order of civilization.” He said that Blacks were “destined to do the dirty work” that the white “master race” ordered them to do. He said that owning slaves elevated even the poorest of Whites to a life above menial labor. He said that Stephen Douglas, the party’s presumptive nominee, had betrayed the South’s constitutional rights by failing to agree to uphold its unconditional right to take slaves into all territories.

  Yancey had not expected to hear roars of approval during his carefully timed pauses because convention rules forbid applause, cheering, and heckling. But he had expected the usual subdued whispers of “yes, that’s right, go on” among a sea of nodding Southern Rights men. The last thing he expected was absolute silence and heads that remained still. The delegates and spectators seemed confused,
as if they were trying to reconcile his words denigrating Stephen Douglas with the Letter of Compact that the revered Jefferson Davis had signed.

  Damn that Stephen Douglas and his fool Jefferson Davis! Yancey continued on to the climax of his speech, telling the Northern Democrats that if they did not adopt his platform of unconditional support for expansion of slavery into the territories then the Southern Democrats would have no choice but to leave the party. He elevated the pitch of his voice to match its stirring conclusion:

  “To my countrymen of the South I have a few words here to say. Be true to your constitutional duties and rights. Be true to your own sense of right. Accept of defeat here, if defeat is to attend the assertion of the right, in order that you may secure a permanent victory in whatever contest you carry a constitutional banner. Yield nothing of principle for mere party success—else you will die by the hands of your associates as surely as by the hand of your avowed enemy.”

  When he sat down there was a smattering of polite applause but not the raucous gallery-clearing tumult he had anticipated.

  Senator George Pugh of Ohio then asked for the floor. Pugh had been preparing to denounce Yancey as a dangerous agitator bent on destroying the Democratic Party and the nation. Now Pugh recognized that the Douglas/Davis Compact had already cut the ground out from under Yancey. Instead of making an inflammatory speech attacking Yancey and his Southern Rights followers he decided to offer reconciliation:

  “Gentlemen of the Convention, I trust that the Compact between our two esteemed Senators Stephen Douglas of Illinois and Jefferson Davis of Mississippi will unite us in support of our party’s nominee. Remember that if we do not elect the President, the platform will not matter. As for me, my trust in our party, its nominee, and its platform is sealed by the Compact of Douglas and Davis to maintain the unity of our party and the perpetuity of our …Confederate… Union.”