Perley's reminiscences of sixty years in the national metropolis, v. 1-2

by Benjamin Perley Poore

CHAPTER XXIV. HOW TEXAS BECAME A STATE.

President Tyler was encouraged in his desire to have Texas admitted as a State of the Union by Henry A. Wise, his favorite adviser, and by numerous holders of Texan war scrip and bonds. Before the victims of the Princeton explosion were shrouded, Mr. Wise called upon Mr. McDuffie, a member of the Senate, who represented Mr. Calhoun's interests at Washington, and informed him that the distinguished South Carolinian would be appointed Secretary of State. Mr. Wise urged the Senator to write to Mr. Calhoun at once, begging him not to decline the position should he be nominated and confirmed. Mr. McDuffie did not ask Mr. Wise if he spoke by Mr. Tyler's authority, but evidently believed that he was so authorized, and promised to write to Mr. Calhoun by that afternoon's mail.

Mr. Wise then went to the Executive Mansion, where he found Mr. Tyler in the breakfast room, much affected by the account of the awful catastrophe of the previous day. Mr. Wise told him rather abruptly that it was no time for grief, as there were vacancies in the Cabinet to be filled, in order that urgent matters then under his control might be disposed of. "What is to be done?" asked President Tyler. Mr. Wise had an answer ready: "Your most important work is the annexation of Texas, and the man for that work is John C. Calhoun, as Secretary of State. Send for him at once."

"No, sir!" replied the President, rather coldly. "The annexation of Texas is important, but Mr. Calhoun is not the man of my choice." This was rather a damper on Mr. Wise, but he resolutely insisted on Mr. Calhoun's appointment, and finally the President yielded. The nomination was sent to the Senate and confirmed without opposition. Mr. Calhoun came to Washington, and was soon installed as Secretary of State. It took him only from February 28th to April 12th to conclude the negotiation which placed the "Lone Star" in the azure field of the ensign of the Republic. The treaty of annexation was signed and sent to the Senate for ratification, but after a protracted discussion it was rejected by a vote of sixteen yeas to thirty-five nays. Stephen A. Douglas, who had just entered Congress as one of the seven Representatives from Illinois, came to the front at that time as the principal advocate for the remission of a fine which had been imposed upon General Jackson by Judge Hall at New Orleans twenty-five years before.

This was the first move made by Mr. Douglas in his canvass for the Presidency, but he was soon prominent in that class of candidates of whom Senator William Allen, of Ohio, said, "Sir! they are going about the country like dry-goods drummers, exhibiting samples of their wares." Always on the alert to make new friends and to retain old ones, he was not only a vigorous hand-shaker, but he would throw his arms fondly around a man, as if that man held the first place in his heart. No statement was too chary of truth in its composition, no partisan manoeuvre was too openly dishonest, no political pathway was too dangerous, if it afforded an opportunity for making a point for Douglas. He was industrious and sagacious, clothing his brilliant ideas in energetic and emphatic language, and standing like a lion at bay when opposed. He had a herculean frame, with the exception of his lower limbs, which were short and small, dwarfing what otherwise would have been a conspicuous figure, and he was popularly known as "the Little Giant." His large, round head surmounted a massive neck, and his features were symmetrical, although his small nose deprived them of dignity. His dark eyes, peering from beneath projecting brows, gleamed with energy, mixed with an expression of slyness and sagacity, and his full lips were generally stained at the corners of his mouth with tobacco juice. His voice was neither musical nor soft, and his gestures were not graceful. But he would speak for hours in clear, well-enunciated tones, and the sharp Illinois attorney soon developed into the statesman at Washington.

The House of Representatives, at that period, could boast of more ability than the Senate. Among the most prominent members were the accomplished Robert C. Winthrop, who so well sustained the reputation of his distinguished ancestors; Hamilton Fish, the representative Knickerbocker from the State of New York; Alexander Ramsey, a worthy descendant of the Pennsylvania Dutchmen; the loquacious Garrett Davis, of Kentucky; the emaciated Alexander H. Stephens of Georgia, who apparently had not a month to live, yet who rivaled Talleyrand in political intrigue; John Wentworth, a tall son of New Hampshire, transplanted to the prairies of Illinois; Andrew Johnson, of Tennessee, a born demagogue and self-constituted champion of the people; John Slidell, of New Orleans; Robert Dale Owen, the visionary communist from Indiana; Howell Cobb, of Georgia, and Jacob Thompson, of Mississippi, who were busily laying the foundations for the Southern Confederacy, "with slavery as its corner-stone;" the brilliant Robert C. Schenck, of Ohio, and the genial Isaac E. Holmes, of South Carolina, who softened the asperities of debate by many kindly comments made in an undertone.

One of General Schenck's stories was told by him to illustrate the "change of base" by those Whigs who had enlisted in the Tyler guard, yet declared that they had not shifted their position. "Many years previous," he said, "when silk goods were scarce and dear, an old lady in Ohio purchased a pair of black silk stockings. Being very proud of this addition to her dress, she wore them frequently until they became quite worn out; as often, however, as a hole appeared in these choice articles, she very carefully darned it up; but for this purpose, having no silk, she was obliged to use white yarn. She usually appropriated Saturday evenings to this exercise. Finally, she had darned them so much that not a single particle of the original material or color remained. Yet such was the force of habit with her that as often as Saturday evening came she would say to her granddaughter, 'Anny, bring me my black silk stockings.'"

The Presidential campaign of 1844 was very exciting. Mr. Van Buren's friends did not entertain a shade of a doubt that he would be nominated, and his opponents in the Democratic ranks had almost lost hope of defeating him in the nominating convention, when, at the suggestion of Mr. Calhoun, he was adroitly questioned on the annexation of Texas in a letter written to him by Mr. Hamett, a Representative from Mississippi. Mr. Van Buren was too sagacious a politician not to discover the pit thus dug for him, and he replied with great caution, avowing himself in favor of the annexation of Texas when it could be brought about peacefully and honorably, but against it at that time, when it would certainly be followed by war with Mexico. This was what the Southern conspirators wanted, and their subsequent action was thus narrated in a letter written a few years afterward by John Tyler, which is here published for the first time:

"Texas," wrote Mr. Tyler, "was the great theme that occupied me. The delegates to the Democratic Convention, or a very large majority of them, had been elected under implied pledges to sustain Van Buren. After his letter repudiating annexation, a revulsion had become obvious, but how far it was to operate it was not possible to say. A majority of the delegates at least were believed still to remain in his favor. If he was nominated the game to be played for Texas was all over. What was to be done?

"My friends," Mr. Tyler went on to say, "advised me to remain at rest, and take my chances in the Democratic Convention. It was impossible to do so. If I suffered my name to be used in that Convention, then I became bound to sustain the nomination, even if Mr. Van Buren was the nominee. This could not be. I chose to run no hazard, but to raise the banner of Texas, and convoke my friends to sustain it. This was but a few weeks before the meeting of the Convention. To my surprise, the notice which was thus issued brought together a thousand delegates, and from every State in the Union. Many called on me on their way to Baltimore to receive my views. My instructions were, 'Go to Baltimore, make your nomination, then go home, and leave the thing to work its own results.' I said no more, and was obeyed. The Democratic Convention felt the move. A Texan man or defeat was the choice left, and they took a Texan man. My withdrawal at a suitable time took place, and the result was soon before the world. I acted to insure the success of a great measure, and I acted not altogether without effect. In so doing I kept my own secrets; to have divulged my purposes would have been to have defeated them."