Thirty Years' View (Vol. II of 2)
The American settlers sent a deputation to the camp of Mr. Frémont, in the valley of the Sacramento, laid all these dangers before him, and implored him to place himself at their head and save them from destruction. General Castro was then in march upon them: the Indians were incited to attack their families, and burn their wheat fields, and were only waiting for the dry season to apply the torch. Juntas were in session to transfer the country to Great Britain: the public domain was passing away in large grants to British subjects: a British fleet was expected on the coast: the British vice consul, Forbes, and the emissary priest, Macnamara, ruling and conducting every thing: and all their plans so far advanced as to render the least delay fatal. It was then the beginning of June. War had broken out between the United States and Mexico, but that was unknown in California. Mr. Frémont had left the two countries at peace when he set out upon his expedition, and was determined to do nothing to disturb their relations: he had even left California to avoid giving offence; and to return and take up arms in so short a time was apparently to discredit his own previous conduct as well as to implicate his government. He felt all the responsibilities of his position; but the actual approach of Castro, and the immediate danger of the settlers, left him no alternative. He determined to put himself at the head of the people, and to save the country. To repulse Castro was not sufficient: to overturn the Mexican government in California, and to establish Californian Independence, was the bold resolve, and the only measure adequate to the emergency. That resolve was taken, and executed with a celerity that gave it a romantic success. The American settlers rushed to his camp – brought their arms, horses and ammunition – were formed into a battalion; and obeyed with zeal and alacrity the orders they received. In thirty days all the northern part of California was freed from Mexican authority – Independence proclaimed – the flag of Independence raised – Castro flying to the south – the American settlers saved from destruction; and the British party in California counteracted and broken up in all their schemes.
This movement for Independence was the salvation of California, and snatched it out of the hands of the British at the moment they were ready to clutch it. For two hundred years – from the time of the navigator Drake, who almost claimed it as a discovery, and placed the English name of New Albion upon it – the eye of England has been upon California; and the magnificent bay of San Francisco, the great seaport of the North Pacific Ocean, has been surveyed as her own. The approaching war between Mexico and the United States was the crisis in which she expected to realize the long-deferred wish for its acquisition; and carefully she took her measures accordingly. She sent two squadrons to the Pacific as soon as Texas was incorporated – well seeing the actual war which was to grow out of that event – a small one into the mouth of the Columbia, an imposing one to Mazatlan, on the Mexican coast, to watch the United States squadron there, and to anticipate its movements upon California. Commodore Sloat commanding the squadron at Mazatlan, saw that he was watched, and pursued, by Admiral Seymour, who lay alongside of him, and he determined to deceive him. He stood out to sea, and was followed by the British Admiral. During the day he bore west, across the ocean, as if going to the Sandwich Islands: Admiral Seymour followed. In the night the American commodore tacked, and ran up the coast towards California: the British admiral, not seeing the tack, continued on his course, and went entirely to the Sandwich Islands before he was undeceived. Commodore Sloat arrived before Monterey on the second of July, entering the port amicably, and offering to salute the town, which the authorities declined on the pretext that they had no powder to return it – in reality because they momentarily expected the British fleet. Commodore Sloat remained five days before the town, and until he heard of Frémont's operations: then believing that Frémont had orders from his government to take California, he having none himself, he determined to act himself. He received the news of Frémont's successes on the 6th day of July: on the 7th he took the town of Monterey, and sent a despatch to Frémont. This latter came to him in all speed, at the head of his mounted force. Going immediately on board the commodore's vessel, an explanation took place. The commodore learnt with astonishment that Frémont had no orders from his government to commence hostilities – that he had acted entirely on his own responsibility. This left the commodore without authority for having taken Monterey; for still at this time, the commencement of the war with Mexico was unknown. Uneasiness came upon the commodore. He remembered the fate of Captain Jones in making the mistake of seizing the town once before in time of peace. He resolved to return to the United States, which he did – turning over the command of the squadron to Commodore Stockton, who had arrived on the 15th. The next day (16th) Admiral Seymour arrived; his flagship the Collingwood, of 80 guns, and his squadron the largest British fleet ever seen in the Pacific. To his astonishment he beheld the American flag flying over Monterey, the American squadron in its harbor, and Frémont's mounted riflemen encamped over the town. His mission was at an end. The prize had escaped him. He attempted nothing further, and Frémont and Stockton rapidly pressed the conquest of California to its conclusion. The subsequent military events can be traced by any history: they were the natural sequence of the great measure conceived and executed by Frémont before any squadron had arrived upon the coast, before he knew of any war with Mexico, and without any authority from his government, except the equivocal and enigmatical visit of Mr. Gillespie. Before the junction of Mr. Frémont with Commodore Sloat and Stockton, his operations had been carried on under the flag of Independence – the Bear Flag, as it was called – the device of the bear being adopted on account of the courageous qualities of that animal (the white bear), which never gives the road to men, – which attacks any number, – and fights to the last with increasing ferocity, with amazing strength of muscle, and with an incredible tenacity of the vital principle – never more formidable and dangerous than when mortally wounded. The Independents took the device of this bear for their flag, and established the independence of California under it: and in joining the United States forces, hauled down this flag, and hoisted the flag of the United States. And the fate of California would have been the same whether the United States squadrons had arrived, or not; and whether the Mexican war had happened, or not. California was in a revolutionary state, already divided from Mexico politically as it had always been geographically. The last governor-general from Mexico, Don Michel Toreno, had been resisted – fought – captured – and shipped back to Mexico, with his 300 cut-throat soldiers. An insurgent government was in operation, determined to be free of Mexico, sensible of inability to stand alone, and looking, part to the United States, part to Great Britain, for the support which they needed. All the American settlers were for the United States protection, and joined Frémont. The leading Californians were also joining him. His conciliatory course drew them rapidly to him. The Picos, who were the leading men of the revolt (Don Pico, Don Andres, and Don Jesus), became his friends. California, become independent of Mexico by the revolt of the Picos, and independent of them by the revolt of the American settlers, had its destiny to fulfil – which was, to be handed over to the United States. So that its incorporation with the American Republic was equally sure in any, and every event.
CHAPTER CLXV.
PAUSE IN THE WAR: SEDENTARY TACTICS: "MASTERLY INACTIVITY."
Arriving at Washington before the commencement of the session of '46-'47, Mr. Benton was requested by the President to look over the draught of his proposed message to Congress (then in manuscript), and to make the remarks upon it which he might think it required; and in writing. Mr. Benton did so, and found a part to which he objected, and thought ought to be omitted. It was a recommendation to Congress to cease the active prosecution of the war, to occupy the conquered part of the country (General Taylor had then taken Monterey) with troops in forts and stations, and to pass an act establishing a temporary government in the occupied part; and to retain the possession until the peace was made. This recommendation, and the argument in support of it, spread over four pages of the message – from 101 to 105. Mr. Benton objected to the whole plan, and answered to it in an equal, or greater number of pages, and to the entire conviction and satisfaction of the President. 1. The sedentary occupation was objected to as being entirely contrary to the temper of the American people, which was active, and required continual "going ahead" until their work was finished. 2. It was a mode of warfare suited to the Spanish temper, which loved procrastination, and could beat the world at it, and had sat-out the Moors seven hundred years in the South of Spain and the Visigoths three hundred years in the north of it; and would certainly out-sit us in Mexico. 3. That he could govern the conquered country under the laws of nations, without applying to Congress, to be worried upon the details of the act, and rousing the question of annexation by conquest, and that beyond the Rio Grande; for the proposed line was to cover Monterey, and to run east and west entirely across the country. These objections, pursued through their illustrations, were entirely convincing to the President, and he frankly gave up the sedentary project.
But it was a project which had been passed upon in the cabinet, and not only adopted but began to be executed. The Secretary at War, Mr. Marcy, had officially refused to accept proffered volunteers from the governors of several States, saying to them – "A sufficient amount of force for the prosecution of the war had already been called into service:" and a premium of two dollars a head had been offered to all persons who could bring in a recruit to the regular army – the regulars being the reliance for the sedentary occupation. The cabinet adhered to their policy. The President convoked them again, and had Mr. Benton present to enforce his objections; but without much effect. The abandonment of the sedentary policy required the adoption of an active one, and for that purpose the immediate calling out of ten regiments of volunteers had been recommended by Mr. Benton; and this call would result at once from the abandonment of the sedentary scheme. Here the pride of consistency came in to play its part. The Secretary at War said he had just refused to accept any more volunteers, and informed the governors of two States that the government had troops enough to prosecute the war; and urged that it would be contradictory now to call out ten regiments. The majority of the cabinet sided with him; but the President retained Mr. Benton to a private interview – talked the subject all over – and finally came to the resolution to act for himself, regardless of the opposition of the major part of his cabinet. It was then in the night, and the President said he would send the order to the Secretary at War in the morning to call out the ten regiments – which he did: but the Secretary, higgling to the last, got one regiment abated: so that nine instead of ten were called out: but these nine were enough. They enabled Scott to go to Mexico, and Taylor to conquer at Buena Vista, and to finish the war victoriously.
A comic mistake grew out of this change in the President's message, which caused the ridicule of the sedentary line to be fastened on Mr. Calhoun – who in fact had counselled it. When the message was read in the Senate, Mr. Westcott, of Florida, believing it remained as it had been drawn up, and induced by Mr. Calhoun, with whose views he was acquainted, made some motion upon it, significant of approbatory action. Mr. Benton asked for the reading of the part of the message referred to. Mr. Westcott searched, but could not find it: Mr. Calhoun did the same. Neither could find the passage. Inquiring and despairing looks were exchanged: and the search for the present was adjourned. Of course it was never found. Afterwards Mr. Westcott said to Mr. Benton that the President had deceived Mr. Calhoun – had told him that the sedentary line was recommended in the message, when it was not. Mr. Benton told him there was no deception – that the recommendation was in the message when he said so, but had been taken out (and he explained how) and replaced by an urgent recommendation for a vigorous prosecution of the war. But the secret was kept for the time. The administration stood before the country vehement for war, and loaded with applause for their spirit. Mr. Calhoun remained mystified, and adhered to the line, and incurred the censure of opposing the administration which he professed to support. He brought forward his plan in all its detail – the line marked out – the number of forts and stations necessary – and the number of troops necessary to garrison them: and spoke often, and earnestly in its support: but to no purpose. His plan was entirely rejected, nor did I ever hear of any one of the cabinet offering to share with him in the ridicule which he brought upon himself for advocating a plan so preposterous in itself, and so utterly unsuited to the temper of our people. It was in this debate, and in support of this sedentary occupation that Mr. Calhoun characterized that proposed inaction as "a masterly inactivity:" a fine expression of the Earl of Chatham – and which Mr. Calhoun had previously used in the Oregon debate in recommending us to do nothing there, and leave it to time to perfect our title. Seven years afterwards the establishment of a boundary between the United States and Mexico was attempted by treaty in the latitude of this proposed line of occupation – a circumstance, – one of the circumstances, – which proves that Mr. Calhoun's plans and spirit survive him.
In all that passed between the President and Mr. Benton about this line, there was no suspicion on the part of either of any design to make it permanent; nor did any thing to that effect appear in Mr. Calhoun's speeches in favor of it; but the design was developed at the time of the ratification of the treaty of peace, and has since been attempted by treaty; and is a design which evidently connects itself with, what is called, preserving the equilibrium of the States (free and slave) by adding on territory for slave States – and to increase the Southern margin for the "United States South," in the event of a separation of the two classes of States.
CHAPTER CLXVI.
THE WILMOT PROVISO; OR, PROHIBITION OF SLAVERY IN THE TERRITORIES: ITS INUTILITY AND MISCHIEF
Scarcely was the war with Mexico commenced when means, different from those of arms, were put in operation to finish it. One of these was the return of the exiled Santa Anna (as has been shown) to his country, and his restoration to power, under the belief that he was favorable to peace, and for which purpose arrangements began to be made from the day of the declaration of the war – or before. In the same session another move was made in the same direction, that of getting peace by peaceable means, in an application made to Congress by the President, to place three millions of dollars at his disposal, to be used in negotiating for a boundary which should give us additional territory: and that recommendation not having been acted upon at the war session, was renewed at the commencement of the next one. It was recommended as an "important measure for securing a speedy peace;" and as an argument in favor of granting it, a sum of two millions similarly placed at the disposition of Mr. Jefferson when about to negotiate for Florida (which ended in the acquisition of Louisiana), was plead as a precedent; and justly. Congress, at this second application, granted the appropriation; but while it was depending, Mr. Wilmot, a member of Congress, from Pennsylvania, moved a proviso, that no part of the territory to be acquired should be open to the introduction of slavery. It was a proposition not necessary for the purpose of excluding slavery, as the only territory to be acquired was that of New Mexico and California, where slavery was already prohibited by the Mexican laws and constitution; and where it could not be carried until those laws should be repealed, and a law for slavery passed. The proviso was nugatory, and could answer no purpose but that of bringing on a slavery agitation in the United States; for which purpose it was immediately seized upon by Mr. Calhoun and his friends, and treated as the greatest possible outrage and injury to the slave States. Congress was occupied with this proviso for two sessions, became excessively heated on the subject, and communicated its heat to the legislatures of the slave States – by several of which conditional disunion resolutions were passed. Every where, in the slave States, the Wilmot Proviso became a Gorgon's head – a chimera dire – a watchword of party, and the synonyme of civil war and the dissolution of the Union. Many patriotic members were employed in resisting the proviso as a bona fide cause of breaking up the Union, if adopted; many amiable and gentle-tempered members were employed in devising modes of adjusting and compromising it; a few, of whom Mr. Benton was one, produced the laws and the constitution of Mexico to show that New Mexico and California were free from slavery; and argued that neither party had any thing to fear, or to hope – the free soil party nothing to fear, because the soil was now free; the slave soil party nothing to hope, because they could not take a step to make it slave soil, having just invented the dogma of "No power in Congress to legislate upon slavery in territories." Never were two parties so completely at loggerheads about nothing: never did two parties contend more furiously against the greatest possible evil. Close observers, who had been watching the progress of the slavery agitation since its inauguration in Congress in 1835, knew it to be a game played by the abolitionists on one side and the disunionists on the other, to accomplish their own purposes. Many courageous men denounced it as such – as a game to be kept up for the political benefit of the players; and deplored the blindness which could not see their determination to keep it agoing to the last possible moment, and to the production of the greatest possible degree of national and sectional exasperation. It was while this contention was thus raging, that Mr. Calhoun wrote a confidential letter to a member of the Alabama legislature, hugging this proviso to his bosom as a fortunate event – as a means of "forcing the issue" between the North and the South; and deprecating any adjustment, compromise, or defeat of it, as a misfortune to the South: and which letter has since come to light. Gentle and credulous people, who believed him to be in earnest when he was sounding the tocsin to rouse the States, instigating them to pass disunion resolutions, and stirring up both national and village orators to attack the proviso unto death: such persons must be amazed to read in that exhumed letter, written during the fiercest of the strife, these ominous words:
"With this impression I would regard any compromise or adjustment of the proviso, or even its defeat, without meeting the danger in its whole length and breadth, as very unfortunate for us. It would lull us to sleep again, without removing the danger, or materially diminishing it."
This issue to be forced was a separation of the slave and the free States; the means, a commercial non-intercourse, in shutting the slave State seaports against the vessels of the free States; the danger to be met, was in the trial of this issue, by the means indicated; which were simply high treason when pursued to the overt act. Mr. Calhoun had flinched from that act in the time of Jackson, but he being dead, and no more Jacksons at the head of the government, he rejoiced in another chance of meeting the danger – meeting it in all its length and breadth; and deprecated the loss of the proviso as the loss of this chance.
Truly the abolitionists and the nullifiers were necessary to each other – the two halves of a pair of shears, neither of which could cut until joined together. Then the map of the Union was in danger; for in their conjunction, that map was cloth between the edges of the shears. And this was that Wilmot Proviso, which for two years convulsed the Union, and prostrated men of firmness and patriotism – a thing of nothing in itself, but magnified into a hideous reality, and seized upon to conflagrate the States and dissolve the Union. The Wilmot Proviso was not passed: that chance of forcing the issue was lost: another had to be found, or made.
CHAPTER CLXVII.
MR. CALHOUN'S SLAVERY RESOLUTIONS, AND DENIAL OF THE RIGHT OF CONGRESS TO PROHIBIT SLAVERY IN A TERRITORY
On Friday, the 19th of February, Mr. Calhoun introduced into the Senate his new slavery resolutions, prefaced by an elaborate speech, and requiring an immediate vote upon them. They were in these words:
"Resolved, That the territories of the United States belong to the several States composing this Union, and are held by them as their joint and common property.
"Resolved, That Congress, as the joint agent and representative of the States of this Union, has no right to make any law, or do any act whatever, that shall directly, or by its effects, make any discrimination between the States of this Union, by which any of them shall be deprived of its full and equal right in any territory of the United States acquired or to be acquired.
"Resolved, That the enactment of any law which should directly, or by its effects, deprive the citizens of any of the States of this Union from emigrating, with their property, into any of the territories of the United States, will make such discrimination, and would, therefore, be a violation of the constitution, and the rights of the States from which such citizens emigrated, and in derogation of that perfect equality which belongs to them as members of this Union, and would tend directly to subvert the Union itself.
"Resolved, That it is a fundamental principle in our political creed, that a people, in forming a constitution, have the unconditional right to form and adopt the government which they may think best calculated to secure their liberty, prosperity, and happiness; and that, in conformity thereto, no other condition is imposed by the federal constitution on a State, in order to be admitted into this Union, except that its constitution shall be republican; and that the imposition of any other by Congress would not only be in violation of the constitution, but in direct conflict with the principle on which our political system rests."
These resolutions, although the sense is involved in circumlocutory phrases, are intelligible to the point, that Congress has no power to prohibit slavery in a territory, and that the exercise of such a power would be a breach of the constitution, and leading to the subversion of the Union. Ostensibly the complaint was, that the emigrant from the slave State was not allowed to carry his slave with him: in reality it was that he was not allowed to carry the State law along with him to protect his slave. Placed in that light, which is the true one, the complaint is absurd: presented as applying to a piece of property instead of the law of the State, it becomes specious – has deluded whole communities; and has led to rage and resentment, and hatred of the Union. In support of these resolutions the mover made a speech in which he showed a readiness to carry out in action, to their extreme results, the doctrines they contained, and to appeal to the slave-holding States for their action, in the event that the Senate should not sustain them. This was the concluding part of his speech:
"Well, sir, what if the decision of this body shall deny to us this high constitutional right, not the less clear because deduced from the whole body of the instrument and the nature of the subject to which it relates? What, then, is the question? I will not undertake to decide. It is a question for our constituents – the slave-holding States. A solemn and a great question. If the decision should be adverse, I trust and do believe that they will take under solemn consideration what they ought to do. I give no advice. It would be hazardous and dangerous for me to do so. But I may speak as an individual member of that section of the Union. There I drew my first breath. There are all my hopes. There is my family and connections. I am a planter – a cotton planter. I am a Southern man, and a slave-holder; a kind and a merciful one, I trust – and none the worse for being a slave-holder. I say, for one, I would rather meet any extremity upon earth than give up one inch of our equality – one inch of what belongs to us as members of this great republic. What, acknowledge inferiority! The surrender of life is nothing to sinking down into acknowledged inferiority.
