Like any compromise, the bill held something for everyone, but it also risked alienating hardliners on both sides of the slavery question. South Carolina’s venerable statesman, John C. Calhoun, although too ill to speak at length, offered a blistering critique of the compromise, which another senator read aloud in his stead. In the meantime, antislavery men such as New York’s William H. Seward found the call for vigorous enforcement of the odious Fugitive Slave Act too outrageous to support. Daniel Webster, New England’s champion antislavery man, to the surprise of many, offered his support for the plan, upsetting many of his constituents and supporters in the North.50
The president opposed the compromise after Clay offered the bill, but Taylor died in July 1850, and his successor, Millard Fillmore, agreed to support the measure. Passage appeared more promising with Fillmore’s support, but the bill failed on July 31. Clay redoubled his efforts to enact the measure by agreeing to separate the components for a vote on each part. With his advanced age, declining health, and physical exhaustion from overwork hampering his effectiveness, Clay left the task of redrafting the legislation and securing passage to Stephen A. Douglas, a freshman senator from Illinois. After Douglas deftly maneuvered to have the individual bills enacted, the compromise was put into place and, once again, the Union was preserved. The compromise would not last indefinitely, but it succeeded in keeping the peace for more than a decade, an impressive achievement.51
The Compromise of 1850 was Henry Clay’s swan song. He had already announced his intention to resign from the Senate in September 1852. Before that could happen, the old lion, seventy-five years old, died of tuberculosis in Washington, DC, on June 29, 1852. He was the first public man to lie in state in the Capitol rotunda. Afterward, his body was returned to Lexington, Kentucky, for burial. His gravestone reads “I know no North—no South—no East—no West.” He left behind a distinguished legislative legacy that made him one of the most influential people ever to serve in the U.S. Congress.52
Daniel Webster
“Godlike Daniel,” as he was called by some of his most ardent supporters, was a reference to his legendary oratorical skills. He possessed a dazzling ability to speak for hours, often without notes or a printed text. Complete paragraphs flew from his mouth—no stammering, no mangled syntax or misplaced modifiers anywhere—spoken in exactly the right sonorous tone and inflection to render his words eloquent and memorable. He stood ramrod straight, projecting a confident image of an erudite statesman, unencumbered by self-doubt or worry. For many New Englanders, Daniel Webster was the beau ideal of a nineteenth-century politician, a personification of New England virtue in the flesh.53
He was born in Salisbury, New Hampshire, on January 18, 1782, the second youngest of eight children born to farmer Ebenezer Webster and his wife. As a boy, he suffered from poor health, which frequently excused him from the drudgery of farm work. Young Dan used his time wisely, immersing himself in books. At age fourteen, he briefly attended the Phillips Exeter Academy in Exeter, New Hampshire, before enrolling in Dartmouth College in Hanover, New Hampshire. While at Dartmouth, Webster’s oratorical gifts became apparent, and he delivered speeches arguing in favor of Federalist Party’s platform of a strong central government.
He graduated from Dartmouth in 1801, and studied law under the tutelage of a Salisbury attorney. He later taught school before moving to Boston to work as a lawyer. Although Webster never loved the law, he viewed it as a means of making a comfortable living and eventually pursuing a political career. In 1808, he married a young woman, Grace Fletcher, who bore him four children before her death in 1828.54
His political career began as a loyal Federalist criticizing Thomas Jefferson’s administration. Incensed at British impressment of American sailors, Jefferson lacked the military might to send American troops to fight against the empire, although public sentiment favored such action. The president struck back in the only way he thought possible, by initiating an embargo against Great Britain and France. The hope was that the economic hardships would provide incentives for the warring European nations to leave American ships in peace. Yet, the embargo hurt domestic producers as much or more than it hurt the English and the French. New England was hit especially hard. As a loyal man of his region, young Webster penned an anonymous pamphlet railing against the administration’s ill-conceived policies.
Not surprisingly, Webster also argued against the War of 1812, which he viewed as a misguided enterprise initiated by Jefferson’s successor, James Madison. A few intrepid Federalists hinted at the possibility of secession from the Union, but Webster drew the line there. He believed that for all its imperfections, the Union must be preserved. He preferred to rail against inept presidents in the hopes that they would alter their policies. He would not threaten to destroy the nation because he did not get his way.55
As a delegate to the so-called Rockingham Convention, Webster authored a report attacking Jeffersonian Democratic-Republicans. It made his reputation as a leading administration critic. Afterward, Massachusetts voters elected him to serve in the U.S. House of Representatives. Reflecting the majority of his constituents’ sentiments, he continued to oppose the war, and his public stature grew with each battlefield reversal, of which there were many. All the while, his graceful, elegant oratory, declaimed on the House floor, suggested that here was a man destined for greatness in the life of the republic. His supporters believed it, and Daniel Webster believed it.56
Unfortunately, for Webster, after the war ended with the Treaty of Ghent, President Madison and his party enjoyed a political resurgence as a grateful public basked in the afterglow of a quasi-victory. Although the war might properly be labeled a draw, the United States could take pride in having fought one of the greatest powers on earth to a draw. Andrew Jackson’s victory in the Battle of New Orleans also reinforced the American myth of a special providence. By 1815, a vocal critic of the war such as Webster seemed out of touch with most Americans. He still enjoyed popularity in New England, but Webster’s broader appeal—crucial to a man who already harbored presidential ambitions—was sorely lacking.
In the postwar era, Madison championed the need for the Second National Bank of America as well as a protective tariff and the infrastructure program that Henry Clay urged on the administration. Webster knew the bank was much needed, but he voted against it in the House because he thought the bank should remove paper banknotes issued by state banks from circulation. On the tariff, he adopted a middle-of-the-road approach, generally supporting protective measures, provided the rates were not so high that they hurt New England manufacturers. When the rates increased, he opposed the tariff because it was too expensive for his constituents. He would change his opinion of the tariff during his long public career.57
Outside of high tariff rates, Webster knew something about expensive tastes. For much of his adult life, he lived beyond his means, and he was always anxious to earn additional income. It was not unheard of for members of Congress during his era to continue practicing a vocation while serving as a legislator, especially when Congress was out of session. Thus, Webster earned a handsome income accepting legal cases, especially appellate cases before the U.S. Supreme Court. He continued to argue leading cases after he left the House in 1817. During the first quarter century of the 1800s, Webster appeared before the high court in an astonishing 168 cases.58
He had been an advocate of the first rank even before he appeared regularly in the Supreme Court, but he perfected his oratorical style during those years. Spectators crowded into the courtroom on days when Webster appeared before the bar. He knew that he was a featured attraction, and he often played to the audience as well as to the justices. With few court rules as to style or time limits on speaking, Webster and