Youthful Indiscretions: Andrew Butler on Kansas, Part One

Andrew Butler (D-SC)

A Closer Look at Atchison, parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

We left David Rice Atchison anticipating the historical consensus on Franklin Pierce as president. The proclamations against the free state party, even if they had empty swipes at Atchison’s own cross-border activities, raised the president’s stock to slightly better than indifferent. When Wilson Shannon failed to move against the free state government’s legislature in March of 1856, all of a month later, the ex-Senator looked at Shannon’s consultations with Pierce and realized that the pleasant Mr. Pierce had failed again. Just as expected, the President told people what they wanted to hear and declined to live up to it after they left his sight.

More than Border Ruffians, embattled Kansans, and Emigrant Aid Company boosters read Pierce’s law and order proclamation. Lately a Senator, Atchison still had many friends in Washington. His antics provided grist for those opposing the administration’s position on Kansas and thus prompted Bourbon Dave’s associates still in office to stand up in his defense. This sets us on a path that will lead to the great Kansas set piece that took place not in the troubled territory or its anxious neighbor, but the chamber of the United States Senate.

On February 28, Atchison’s F-Street messmate Andrew Butler wrote to Bourbon Dave that

A debate is going on, here, that would amuse you very much if you were present. You have a place in the picture; and a prominent place.

Butler aimed to answer Atchison’s foes, which he did on March 5. This takes us to the Congressional Globe, that three-columned horror of tiny print that historians rarely miss a chance to complain about. In imitation of my betters, I will say that Butler’s speech on that day takes up nine columns between pages 584 and 587. If you want to read along, the Globe comes organized by Congress and session. The following hails from the 34th Congress, 1st session.

Butler’s speech began on an odd note. RMT Hunter -another F Streeter- complained that the Senator from South Carolina did not feel well. Could the Senate maybe postpone the Kansas debate until tomorrow? Several Senators moved for Monday instead, but John B. Weller (D-CA) said he wanted the day for a military appropriations bill. That in mind, Butler stuck it out

with a view to make a very few remarks in order to relieve the Senate from any impression which might be made on it by the statements made here on the responsibility of Senators, or by newspaper communications, in relation to the part which my friend, General Atchison, has acted in Kansas affairs. I intend no more

John Hale

Nineteenth century politicians promising brevity rarely deliver. Butler opened with half a column on the pregnant circumstances, the danger of civil war, and other boilerplate. Then he castigated John Hale (R-NH) for some remarks me made. Hale ought to have known better, in light of his long service, but Butler cast him as “a committed advocate to a sectional, fanatical organization” and thus obligated to repeat things beneath him. Hale had called the Supreme Court “the citadel of slavery.” As chairman of the Judiciary Committee, Butler took that personally. His long “intercourse” with Roger Taney told him that the Court stood for the Constitution, not slavery per se. He then waxed Biblical on antislavery theories of higher law, by which Old Scratch persuaded Eve to want a forbidden snack.

Of course Butler didn’t mean that the United States Constitution had a divine pedigree or that Supreme Court rulings came god-breathed from Taney’s pen. Fallible men made mistakes. He had in mind Taney’s ruling on Prigg vs. Pennsylvania, which granted states the power to pass laws impeding the recovery of fugitive slaves. Butler, like everyone else, stood for a court above politics. Putting itself above politics meant that the Court would agree with the Senator any time he found it important, also just like everyone else.

Franklin Pierce

Butler then wandered off into a discussion of Hale’s complaint that Pierce contradicted himself between his response to the Dorr Rebellion in Rhode Island, wherein many rejected the vintage 1600s charter of the colony and demanded a more modern constitution. Pierce had sided with an illegal government against a legitimate one then, but not for Kansas. The Senator took some time to distance himself from Pierce, but insisted that as an American he owed the president some deference. The chief of the New Hampshire Democracy might take certain stands not becoming “the Chief Magistrate of this Confederacy.” In the White House, one ascended from a partisan warrior to the judge of all parties. And anyway, Pierce

was then comparatively a young man, and that having cultivated the lessons of liberty which his ancestor had taught him, much, in the language of Mr. Burke, is to be pardoned to the spirit of liberty. Another thing is to be said, that the judgment in relation to Dorr had not then been formed.

In other words, young Mr. Pierce of the New Hampshire Democracy didn’t know any better than to shelter a rebel leader. Franklin Pierce, age thirty-eight, had a head full of campus-style radicalism and anyway, the nation hadn’t come to a consensus on Dorr yet. One can’t blame “that deluded young man” in light of Dorr’s numerous “distinguished sympathizers.”

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A Closer Look at David Rice Atchison, Part Two

David Rice Atchison (D-MO)

 

We left David Rice Atchison, Senator from Missouri, invisible in the records. Between February second and twentieth of 1855, he drops off the map. During that time, Lewis Cass believed that Atchison toured the South soliciting support for his crusade in Kansas. Large rallies would have generated news reports, but if Atchison came to a state capital quietly and talked to fellow politicians behind closed doors, we might never know. Outside of Missouri and Washington, few people likely knew him on sight. He appears again back in Missouri, possibly in St. Louis on the twentieth and definitely in Jefferson City by the twenty-second.

Bourbon Dave arrived to disappointing news. The Missouri legislature had just voted to postpone choosing a new senator. Until that point, Atchison may have expected easy reelection. It turned out that his battle with Thomas Hart Benton had cost him the support of many Democrats, enough together with Missouri’s Whigs to deny him a clear majority. With nothing much to do in the state capital, he made for the border the next day. He had Kansas to save for slavery, after all. Elections for the legislature would take place on March 30 and he could hardly miss that. On the twenty-fifth, Atchison went into Kansas in the company of “eighty men and twenty-four wagons.” He came packing two Bowie knives and four pistols, just for himself. The proceeds of his movement, in fraud and intimidation, amounted to control of the legislature of Kansas.

Robert Morse Taliaferro Hunter (D-VA)

Atchison wrote his F Street messmate, Robert M.T. Hunter, celebrating the victory and asking for ten thousand southerners to come and consolidate their victory. If they could “take possession of and hold every acre of timber” then Kansas could never go against slavery. Missouri could swing half of the ten thousand, he believed, but the rest of the section had to do its part. If the section failed Atchison, then it would lose Missouri and, soon after, Texas and Arkansas. With them gone, the South would have to concede the territories entire to freedom.

But none of this made Atchison “a Bandit, a ruffian, an Aaron Burr.” Atchison did not, he would have his friend know, preside over a regime of violent hooliganism. Instead he saved the lives and homes of antislavery Kansans by restraining his men. Where he went, nothing violent transpired. He couldn’t claim any responsibility for other places, but he assured Hunter that only the most impudent got “the hickory.”

One must suspect Atchison of polishing up his reputation here, but the Howard Report found only violent threats where he personally went. He may, as he did when proslavery forces moved against Lawrence, have acted to restrain his followers just as he claimed. He still got the mob in position where it could do harm and we ought to understand the border ruffians as part of a movement he started, organized, and led. The two do not cancel out, but only together form a complete picture of Missouri’s senator.

Andrew Butler of South Carolina, another of Atchison’s late messamates fabulously declared

the advent of Kansas shall be to the living Atchison a Star in his varied galaxy of life.

A young friend or relation of Butler’s had just gone off to Kansas and Butler asked Atchison to look after him.

James Mason

James Mason, author of the Fugitive Slave Act, proved less effusive. He heard rumors that people in Kansas wanted Andrew Reeder deposed in favor of a more pliable governor. The proslavery side should not use their victory as an excuse to color outside the legal lines. Instead, if Reeder proved intransigent against the proslavery legislature, then they could charge him with various offenses and ask his removal. Atchison had anticipated Mason’s advice, bending Franklin Pierce’s ear on the issue through his old friend, classmate, and present Secretary of War. Jefferson Davis had his back, to the point where the papers referred to a coalition of the two men against Reeder. In the summer, Pierce fired him at the request of Kansas’ legislature.

In the mean time, Atchison’s Platte County men destroyed the Parkville Industrial Luminary for objecting to how Missouri had outright stolen Kansas’ legislature. Parrish, Atchison’s biographer, stresses that he has no evidence the man himself took part in the destruction, but also notes that the Squatter Sovereign praised the act. Given the close personal and political relationship between the brothers Stringfellow and Atchison, it seems unlikely they would have done so if Atchison objected. Instead they advised continuing the campaign against antislavery papers elsewhere in Missouri and, as they later would, in Lawrence.

Atchison’s reelection campaign also got off to an odd start. A proslavery convention met at St. Louis between the twelfth and fourteenth of July. It heard a motion that Atchison and his old law partner Alexander Doniphan, leading contenders for the Senate seat, give speeches. Atchison tried to give them a pass, aiming to keep the convention a proslavery affair rather than introduce partisanship into things. Doniphan, a Whig, followed his lead. The convention wouldn’t hear of it and appointed a committee, which Atchison again refused. The usual order of such things seems to have involved such refusals, but then one reconsidered when a committee affirmed that the convention really wanted you to speak. Maybe Atchison proved himself in earnest in the hopes that it would win him popularity enough to keep his post in the Senate, but Parrish rightly points out that he didn’t give up on Kansas after realizing that he would not again serve as senator. Rebuffed, the convention turned to the favorite pastime of nineteenth century mass meetings: drawing up a set of resolutions. Over in Kansas., the free state men did the same.