Number 13: Millard Fillmore

Years in office: 1850-1853
Pre-service occupations: vice president, lawyer, congressman
Key events during his administration: Compromise of 1850, California admitted to the Union (1850), Fugitive Slave Act (1850), dispatch of Matthew Perry to Japan, Uncle Tom’s Cabin published (1852)

Presidential rating: Successful and somewhat popular

ESSAY

Millard Fillmore was quite possibly the most extraordinary man who’s ever been president. He fought at the Alamo. He discovered gold in California. He ran the Underground Railroad. He wrestled with the emperor of Japan. He even prevented the assassination of Andrew Jackson.

OK, before you scramble for supporting links or simply click away in disbelief, yes, it’s all hooey. Fillmore, of course, never did any of those things; they come from the fertile mind of George Pendle, who this year published the satirical The Remarkable Millard Fillmore: The Unbelievable Life of a Forgotten President. Pendle takes many incidents that happened during Fillmore’s life and makes the New Yorker out to be a Woody Allen-type hero who always managed to be at the right place at the right time.

And such is the latest popular thinking of the 13th president of the United States, a man usually considered a presidential failure—if he’s ever thought of at all. Aside from having one of the more unusual presidential names (Millard? but not Mallard) Fillmore bears the distinction of having been the second vice president to assume the presidency after his predecessor died in office. Fillmore is one of the many “forgotten” presidents. He’s like Van Buren, Tyler, Taylor, Pierce and Buchanan, and the presidents of the late 1870s-1890s that people can’t quite place in the right order—if they even remember their names.

But like many of the forgotten presidents, and many of the so-called failures, Fillmore has gotten a raw deal from history. Although he served 2½ years and his party would not re-nominate him—and he would sink to obscurity following a second failed presidential attempt—Fillmore definitely deserves far better than he’s been treated.

A skilled lawyer and a man initially hungry for political power, Fillmore had the seemingly unfortunate luck to become vice president under Zachary Taylor then be shoved aside as almost a non-entity for 16 months. When he suddenly gained the high office, it was to be the leader of a disintegrating party and a country that was picking sides. Fillmore would do his best, but to history, it just wasn’t enough. And that’s what’s really strange, because in those 2½ years, Millard Fillmore served remarkably well. He was a strong president who used the weight of the office to enforce the law—and suffered for it.

History has largely forgotten Millard Fillmore, a “wrong” that a couple of modern historians would like to see corrected.

The lawyer-politician
Millard Fillmore was born in a log cabin, one of the truly authentic “log cabin presidents.” Reared in an extremely poor family, he struggled at an early age to get a decent education, eventually moving to Buffalo to read law. (Back then, you literally read law cases at a firm that was often own by a family member or family friend, and did minor chores and duties until you eventually became a lawyer in your own right by taking the bar exams.) Fillmore was admitted to the New York bar in 1823.

He married Abigail Powers in 1826. Like Taylor’s wife, Abigail would be too ill to serve as White House hostess, so one of his two daughters, Mary, served in that function.

Fillmore and his friend Nathan K. Hall formed a Buffalo law partnership in 1834, later adding Solomon Haven. The firm of Fillmore, Hall and Haven eventually became one of the most prestigious in New York—at one time including among its lawyers another future president, Grover Cleveland—and survives to this day as Hodgson Russ LLP. (No other law firm can boast having two future presidents on its rolls.)

In the 1820s, Fillmore entered the world of politics, serving first in the New York assembly and then the U.S. Congress. At the time, his political mentor was Thurlow Weed, who we’ll meet again. Fillmore served in the House from 1833 to 1843—establishing solid Whig credentials—when he left for an unsuccessful bid for governor of New York. He settled for state comptroller, where his revisions of the state banking system served as a national model.

By 1848, Fillmore was well-respected in New York’s Whig party, although on the national level, no one knew him. He was selected to be Taylor’s running mate specifically because he was from New York, an unknown and seemed like a good balance to the slave-owner Taylor. He also wasn’t a more “dangerous” party broker like Weed or another fellow-New Yorker, William Seward.

Fillmore soon came to regret his role.

A frustrated vice president
Fillmore hated being vice president. True, not many men relished the job. But Fillmore apparently hated it more because he wanted to be president and because his suggestions on New York appointments were being ignored. Why was Fillmore shut out, and essentially regulated to his duties in the Senate? Fillmore was in complete harmony with Taylor and the rest of the administration on its public views. He announced he would support the compromise if it came down to a split vote in the Senate and his vote would be needed to break the tie.

Fillmore’s problem was that he was in the way. His political enemies in New York—Thurlow Weed and William Seward—were more influential with Taylor (especially Seward). Power-broker Weed particularly wanted to destroy Fillmore, because Seward “needed” to become president. Add to that the fact that Taylor struck up a good friendship with Seward, and you have the makings of a non-entity of a vice president. And that made the 16 months of the Taylor presidency quite frustrating for Millard Fillmore.

In the Senate, he presided over the rancorous debates of Henry Clay’s omnibus bill, which became the Compromise of 1850 after he became president. His duty there was mainly to keep the peace. After Taylor’s death, he still found himself in the peacekeeper’s role, but on a much larger scale.

Now, Mr. President—completing the compromise
Quite unlike the death of Harrison nine years earlier, Taylor’s death didn’t bring the country to a confused, panicky halt. Within days of the hero president’s mourning and burial, work resumed in the nation’s capital on the excitingly divisive and politically charged Henry Clay omnibus bill.

(See the entry on Taylor for the full story. To review: the omnibus bill would eventually become the Compromise of 1850, and would include, among other things, boundaries for Texas and the New Mexico territory, compensation for Texas, the end of the slave trade in D.C., and, in a separate bill, the Fugitive Slave Law. The entire compromise story and battle would take far too much space to relate, but it was a rancorous affair that makes the congressional battles over Iraq or illegal immigration look downright pleasant by comparison.)

Fillmore let it be known that Taylor’s position was his position, too. He was in favor of compromise, but above all else, Texas must stay out of New Mexico. Fillmore told the governor of Texas that New Mexico was now a territory of the United States, with boundaries established even before the treaty with Mexico. At the same time, on Aug. 6, 1850, Fillmore sent a strongly-worded letter to the House and Senate that mirrored Taylor’s stated (and often heated) expressions upholding United States law, especially concerning Texas and New Mexico. He wrote (with his secretary of state’s assistance):

“If the laws of the United States are opposed or obstructed in any State or Territory by combinations too powerful to be suppressed by the judicial or civil authorities, … it is the duty of the President either to call out the militia or to employ the military and naval force of the United States or to do both if it is in his judgment the exigency of the occasion shall so require…

If Texas militia, therefore, march into any of the other States or into any territory of the United States, there to execute or enforce any law of Texas, they have become at that moment trespassers; they are no longer under the protection of any lawful authority, and are to be regarded merely as intruders; and if within such State or Territory they obstruct any law of the United States, whether by power of arms or mere power of numbers … the President of the United States is bound to obey the solemn injunction of the Constitution and exercise the high powers invested in him by that instrument and by the acts of Congress.” (Elbert B. Smith, p181)

In short, Fillmore, as did his late boss, said that if Texas tried to take New Mexico, he would hit Texas hard with the full force of the military and government behind him. More on that sentiment later. To back up his words, the president ordered 750 troops to New Mexico.

Fillmore’s New Mexico stance proved crucial, and helped Northern Whigs accept the compromise. In the end, most sections of the country proved happy with the compromise, except for the deep South fire-eaters, for whom any compromise over anything was an insult to honor, sanity and grounds for secession.

Unionist sentiment reigned throughout the nation and through the next several election cycles, even in deep-South states.

Fillmore was the hero of the hour, and enjoyed a high popularity. It wouldn’t last.

Cleaning house
While the battle over the compromise continued into the fall—Fillmore would sign the bill on Sept. 20—the president began his administration with an entirely new cabinet. He dismissed all of Taylor’s officers and brought in a little star power. Daniel Webster once again assumed the title of secretary of state, bringing some much-needed Whig heft to the Taylor-Fillmore administration. Among his other cabinet officials were his law partner Nathan K. Hall as postmaster general, and from the South, Thomas Corwin as secretary of war and Taylor’s old mentor-friend John Crittenden as attorney general.

His deep South cabinet members are important, because the president, when touring the Northern states months after the Compromise’s passage, took those members along as a sign of unity: administration and national unity.

The president did not, however, seek petty revenge against political enemies Weed and Seward by way of removing their appointments. He kept them on as a gesture of goodwill. But Weed would still prove himself an enemy out to bring down the president, so despite numerous olive branches and attempts at peace within the Whig party, Fillmore had enough and removed Weed’s friends and cronies from federal offices. It would hurt him later on.

The strong Unionist president
Millard Fillmore, having just scored a major political victory, now had to deal with one very unpleasant aspect of that very victory. The Fugitive Slave Law was a sop to the fire-eaters in the South, and the only real win they got from the compromise. As Elbert Smith explains, the law caused far more angst and aroused more passions than the number of occasions where it was actually enforced.

The Fugitive Slave Law was far stronger and sweeping than any previous one had been. In essence, the act ordered federal marshals or anyone so deputized to assist slave-owners in capturing runaway slaves anywhere in the country. Failure to comply meant a $1,000 fine. What the new law did was made everyone liable for capturing runaway slaves. Regardless if one was an abolitionist, free black, northerner who had never even seen a black, a mountain southerner who never owned slaves and never would, a Northern city-dweller who didn’t care for blacks on way or another—whoever!—all were now responsible. The trouble was, in the deep South escape was nearly impossible, and in the far North, few runaways were ever seen (except New England). But in those areas, passions over the new law were hottest. On the border states, where escape was most likely, sentiments were fairly quiet. Deep South slavers jealously guarded the act, even though the likelihood of one of their slaves escaping north was small; far Northerners, such as people from Michigan, Ohio, Wisconsin and Maine, where blacks were rare and fugitives rarer still, damned the law.

The unintended consequence of the law for the North is that it strengthened the anti-slavery position by forcing people to get involved.

The Fugitive Slave Law presented a terrible quandary for the president. He did not care for slavery, believed it was an obstacle to the nation’s unity and wanted it to die. On the one hand, Fillmore was a New York Whig, where anti-slavery feelings ran hot. On the other hand, he had campaigned hard to gain acceptance for the compromise. He wanted that compromise to stick.

Fillmore was, above all else, a Unionist—a man who believed in the nation. Like Taylor, Tyler and Jackson before him, Fillmore saw his duty as president to rise above sectional and party differences and govern according to the Constitution. Just as he vowed to defend United States territory against the aggressions of another state, President Fillmore would “let he Constitution be [his] guide” and enforce the new law—as distasteful as it was.

He said of slavery (and the fugitive law),

“God knows that I detest slavery, but it is an existing evil, for which we are not responsible, and we must endure it, and give it such protection as guaranteed by the Constitution, till we can get rid of it without destroying the last hope of free government in the world.” (Robert J. Scarry, p.181)

Slavery out in the open
Unfortunately for Fillmore and the nation, the Fugitive Slave Law, as stated, wound up making slavery a personal issue for the many millions of Americans who had no financial or emotional interest in slavery. For the average American, it was no longer just a Southern issue, with hard-nosed supporters screaming for their rights, or something those wild-eyed, crazy abolitionists preached about. It was no longer just something the planter class clung to as their base of power. It was becoming a true diving line between the North and the South.

President Fillmore looked to the compromise and the Constitution as ways to hold the country together: satisfy the extremes on both sides and appeal to union. But when necessary, strike down those who threatened disunion.

But Fillmore and the clever men in Washington, as well-intentioned as they were, could not contain the deep passions that they stirred. The compromise itself would prove to be a mere cease-fire for four years until Stephen A. Douglas, one of the compromise’s final architects, destroyed the peace with his popular sovereignty and the Kansas-Nebraska Act. Earlier, however, two years after the compromise’s passage, came a different sort of thunderclap: the publication of a novel that did more to advance the cause of abolitionism than a thousand speeches and rallies combined.

Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin went into print early in 1852 (after being serialized in 1851). Though the publication didn’t much affect the president nor his popularity, it caused outrage throughout the South, where the book was banned. Stowe’s novel centered on the immorality of slavery and proved to be a great boon to the abolitionist cause throughout the North.

The story behind the novel is itself fascinating, but for the purposes of this study, it’s enough to say that Uncle Tom’s Cabin was more powerful as a wedge between North and South than the compromise was as a glue holding them together.

Secession crisis
But even though the president saw to it that the law was enforced during the occasions when it was used—and mildly so—concerning the Fugitive Slave Law, there were still some fire-eaters courting secession. A “Nashville Convention” was called to discuss secession, but unionist sentiment won out—except in South Carolina. In November 1850, the president learned that there were plans to seize the federal forts in Charleston in preparations for the state’s secession.

Several federal officials resigned in South Carolina, effectively rendering the administration temporarily blind. Fillmore had General Scott sit on cabinet meetings (Scott, as the Army’s c-in-c, was also serving as a forerunner of the chief of staff). Scott recommended reinforcing Charleston, which was done. Fillmore also sent more troops to both Carolinas.

When South Carolina’s governor asked the president what in the world was going on, Fillmore simply responded that it was within his purview as president to send the military anywhere he saw fit for the public good. The crisis abated, and whether the secession conspiracy was real or heated talk that got out of control is beside the point.

Fillmore biographer Robert Scarry makes an excellent observation when he writes:

“This was the second time that Fillmore used commendable courage and his power as commander in chief of the armed forces of the United States. Troops were sent into New Mexico, South Carolina, and parts of the South. Also, he threatened to use troops, if necessary, to enforce the Fugitive Slave Act.

“Yet, it has caused hardly a ripple among historians. Andrew Jackson, who threatened the use of troops in South Carolina, is given wide coverage. In recent years, Zachary Taylor has been credited for his threat in the Texas-New Mexico crisis.

“The common appraisal is that except for the Mexican War, the presidents between Jackson and Lincoln did nothing. Even a historian who wrote a book on the president as commander in chief does not give Fillmore any credit for use of this power." (Scarry, pp.183-184, emphasis in original)

Indeed. Old Hickory gets lots of praise for preparing to slap down the secession crisis of 1831-32. Why does Fillmore get no credit for actually putting troops in place in New Mexico, South Carolina, etc., to stand ready against real threats as well?

Texans were going to take New Mexico. Taylor threatened to stop them, and told them exactly what he would do. Fillmore said as much, then sent troops to prove he wasn’t just talking. And when he got concrete intelligence of a dangerous plot to seize federal forts to start a secession, he acted immediately, and got soldiers and ships in place to counter the move.

Fillmore was a lot stronger a president than “history” says, because he used the might of his office to back up his words.

Foreign policy: neutrality
On the foreign relations front, Millard Fillmore proved to be quite deft. Daniel Webster was less involved as head of State for Fillmore than he was for Tyler, as illness and age were finally catching him. The president, therefore, often took the lead himself.

First up was a revolution in Hungary, which was fighting to win independence from Austria. In late 1850, Lajos Kossuth, the leader of the failed revolution, arrived in New York City and was hailed as a conquering hero with throngs of well-wishers, bands, cannon salutes and massive political fawning. Kossuth and his admirers—and politicians who should have known better, like Seward—wanted the United States to intervene and help Hungary win independence.

But the president, while sympatizing, said he would not chang United Stats policy of non-intervention in foreign affairs, which had stood since George Washington’s time. Even though he was on firm footing, Fillmore lost support of many German and Hungarian immigrants.

Cuba
Another unwelcome foreign crisis was an actual “American” invasion of Cuba.

Southern slavers had long eyed Cuba and thought it would be a welcome extension of the slave empire, even though Cuban slavery and American slavery were quite different—and the former was disappearing fast. Nevertheless, hundreds of Southern aristocrats—including the nephew of Attorney General Crittenden—joined Narciso Lopez on his third attempt to take over Cuba in August 1851.

Knowing of the plot, President Fillmore issued a proclamation saying that any American who joined Lopez’s plot would be on his own and no longer under the protection of United States law. The Spanish garrisons were ready and easily stopped the “invasion.” Many were hanged or executed by firing squad, including Crittenden. Another 160 were taken to Spain to work in penal mines. The deaths shocked the American public, some even wanted war with Spain, and rioters in New Orleans—where Lopez’s army left—sacked a Spanish newspaper and the Spanish consulate.

Secretary Webster, on Fillmore’s orders, issued formal apologies to the Spanish government for the treatment of the consulate and promised proper treatment for the consul’s replacement. This action probably secured the release of the 160 prisoners, and it was the diplomatic thing to do, but it didn’t do Fillmore any favors. Even though the aristocrats had done this on their own and against the warning from the president, and the administration prevented the crisis from turning into a war with Spain, Fillmore took the heat and lost some support in the South.

Fillmore had no problem with obtaining Cuba should Spain decide to sell it or cede it. But take it by force? No—and definitely not through nonsensical “invasions” such as the Lopez plot.

Japan
Probably the one event that modern Americans remember from Millard Fillmore’s presidency is his sending Commodore Matthew Perry to “open” Japan. Credit is sometimes weirdly given to Franklin Pierce, but he doesn’t deserve it, because the mission was conceived and authorized by Fillmore, Webster and Webster’s successor, Edward Everett.

The mission, which included a letter from Fillmore, was designed to force Japan to open trade with the West. Perry was authorized to go to guns if Japanese representatives refused to let him present his letter to the emperor.

Why the bullying? “Opening” Japan was part of the larger game in the Pacific played with the European powers for trade with China, control over Hawaii (which the United States continued to protect and guarantee independence) and more. Forcing Japan to end its isolation was a trade coup, to be sure. But to what end? I actually consider that to be not one of our more shining moments.

Whigs without a party
From a popularity standpoint, Fillmore was probably the best Whig to seek the nomination in 1852. However, Fillmore didn’t want the job.

As Elbert Smith explains, the presidency in those days was quite different than today. A president back then did much of the things himself that today’s massive White House staff handles for the president: everything from researching issues to arranging his calendar to answering his mail to selecting appointments to office to handing diplomatic crisis top dealing with job seekers and even crank letters threatening his life. It was utterly exhausting. Presidents in the 1800s had a private secretary or two and that was it. The presidency wrecked Polk’s health and it probably contributed to Taylor’s early death; now, Fillmore was just plain worn out.
However, the Whig party was in poor shape. It was badly divided into factions and needed a leader. Fillmore could have filled that role, but he was exhausted. He had let it be known he was not a candidate, but by the summer of 1852, he agreed to be one for the sake of party unity. Daniel Webster was running (he would die in October), and so was Winfield Scott, the latter being the choice of the anti-slavery Seward faction of the party. Simply put, there was no candidate who would satisfy the whole party. At the convention, Fillmore and Webster supporters held the lead through dozens of ballots, but Fillmore written instructions that his candidacy was to be withdrawn when the moment was right. It didn’t happen, and Winfield Scott got the nomination on the 53rd ballot.

Although Southerners didn’t have anything per-say against the general, he was too cozy with Seward, which, according to the politics of the day, was a figurative kiss of death. It meant Scott was unelectable in the South.

The party fractured permanently, and the Whig candidate carried only four states against the Democrats’ unity candidate, Franklin Pierce.

The Whigs never again ran a national campaign, and disappeared forever after the 1856 election.

Know-Nothing and retirement
President Fillmore left the White House in March 1853 in good spirits. He believed he had done a good job and stuck faithfully to the Constitution. He left knowing that his successor had pledged to uphold the compromise.

But his good spirits wouldn’t last. His wife, Abigail, died that spring, devastating the family and leaving it, Smith writes, “without its anchor.” The following year, his favorite daughter, Mary, who had served as White House hostess, also died.

The grieving Fillmore went abroad for a year then came back and fell in with a dubious crowd. The Native American party, also known as the American Party, was the political arm of the Know-Nothing movement. Know-Nothings were anti-Catholic and anti-immigration bigots, but Fillmore was neither of those. He joined the party and became their standard-bearer in 1856 for two reasons.

First, he would not join the new Republican party, where many of his former Whig associates had gone, because it was strictly a sectional party and the election of its candidate, John C. Fremont, would mean secession of the South. He was absolutely right, but four years off. Second, he would not support the Democrat candidate, James Buchanan, because Fillmore was still a Whig at heart, not a Democrat, and Buchanan offered more of the same sectional division, as did Fremont (even though Buchanan was from Pennsylvania).

Fillmore believed he, as a third-party candidate, offered the only real option for national unity. But more people believed that Buchanan was that option, and chose the Democrat over the other two. Fillmore actually won one state—Maryland, with its 8 electoral votes—and took almost 29% of the vote (better than Ross Perot in 1992), but that was all. Fillmore bowed out of politics for good.

Fillmore turned to philanthropy, and during the Civil War, he supported the Union cause by organizing older men to encourage younger men to enlist. He died in 1874.

Final Assessment

Millard Fillmore is, next to Ulysses S. Grant, the most wrongly treated American president. There really is nothing in his record that justifies his treatment as a failure or his regulation to the bottom of the heap. Like Zachary Taylor, it is a mystery.

Let’s look at a couple of facts:

• Fillmore acted entirely within Constitutional boundaries. He didn’t stretch it, but he not only threatened to enforce it militarily, he actually did it three times! He was not selective in that enforcement, either. He sent troops to New Mexico, South Carolina and other parts South, and stood ready to use federal troops should it have become necessary with the Fugitive Slave Law—regardless of his personal feelings.


• Fillmore worked to solve problems instead of passing them to the next administration.


• He was willing to, and did, put country above party.


• He was skillful with foreign relations, demonstrating a depth of knowledge of the issues, an understanding of international law and an eye for the future—most notably the refusal to interfere in Hungary and sending Perry to Japan.


• The economy, one of the modern gauges of the successful presidency, was excellent during Fillmore’s 2½ years.

So why is Fillmore so vilified and ridiculed and treated, as Harry Truman did, as someone who merely twiddled his thumbs in office? One reason is that Fillmore sought compromise and union instead of the destruction of slavery, which is a skewed and twisted interpretation viewed through the modern lens and treats the Civil War as inevitable. (But it wasn’t inevitable in 1850, now, was it!)

His seeking compromise and Union by enforcing the law, instead of destroying slavery, is seen as a black mark. But I consider that akin to a Christian conservative president enforcing federal laws concerning abortion, regardless of his personal feelings.

Perhaps it was how the compromise divided the Whigs, but that would ignore the fact that the Whigs were already dividing between North and South.

Another reason is the supposed 180-degree shift between the Taylor and Fillmore administrations—which is totally wrong. Taylor supposedly was an obstacle to the compromise, which we now know is not true (see the entry on Taylor) and Fillmore's stance was the opposite. But both men were, in fact, mostly in agreement.

Another reason could be his association with the distasteful Know-Nothings, which tars Fillmore as a bigot without understanding why he ran as their candidate.

Still another reason is the fact that Fillmore made no real effort to run for re-election, which is usually related by historians as his “failure to win re-nomination.” Had he done so at the height of his popularity, right after the passage of the compromise, he likely would have been nominated and probably would have won. Six and a half years of Millard Fillmore might have considerably changed the “inevitability” of the Civil War.

It depends on the historian or the writer looking back, and whatever "sins" he or she finds with Fillmore. And those supposed sins just don’t fit the facts. This isn’t historical revisionism. This is actually correcting a wrong that has been done to a man who didn’t deserve it.

I agree with Elbert Smith and Robert J. Scarry who also believe that Millard Fillmore is a much-underrated president, and deserves far better from history. In fact, before reading Scarry’s conclusion, I determined that Fillmore deserved to be placed “above average” in the presidential rankings, and not in the “near-failure” or “failure” categories. Scarry mostly agrees:

“It is not this writer’s contention that Fillmore was a great or near-great president. But considering that he served in the office for less than three years he did a remarkable job. He deserves a better ranking by future historians rating presidents of the United States: at least high in the Average category or perhaps near the bottom of the Above Average category.” (Scarry, p.344)

I'm not so naïve to believe Fillmore will be celebrated anytime soon as one of our better presidents. He should be remembered not as a failure, but as a success. History has a lot of catching up to do.

Final rating: Successful and somewhat popular

Resources
Two resources served this study well: Elbert Smith’s The Presidencies of Zachary Taylor and Millard Fillmore (1985), part of the University of Kansas’ American Presidency series, and Robert J. Scarry’s Millard Fillmore (2001).

George Pendle’s fictional The Remarkable Millard Fillmore : The Unbelievable Life of a Forgotten President is worth a look, too, if only to see just how much he’s ridiculed today.

Illustrations

All images are public domain and found in the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division unless otherwise noted.

1. Matthew Brady took this, the most recognizable photo of Millard Fillmore.

2. Abigail Fillmore, from an engraving created between 1850 and 1890

3. Grand national Whig banner: press onward, a banner created by N. Currier for the 1848 presidential campaign

4. Millard Fillmore, from an engraving by J. Sartain, between 1850 and 1853

5. Official White House portrait (White House Historical Association)

6. A poster warning free blacks and escaped slaves in Boston to be wary of policemen, who could be pressed into service as slave catchers. Boston was the strongest base for abolitionist sentiment.

7. The cover page of the first edition of Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, published in 1852. (Image taken from Wikipedia, which altered it so that it would remain in the public domain, but credit could also go to the Department of English at the University of Virginia, which maintains an extensive site on Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Wikipedia obtained the original, unaltered image from that site.)

8. Millard Fillmore image engraved by J.C. Buttre

9. The great footrace for the presidential purse (100,000 and picking) over the Union Course 1852. Library of Congress summary: Satire on the presidential election of 1852, showing Winfield Scott, Daniel Webster and Franklin Pierce competing in a footrace before a crowd of onlookers for a $100,000 prize (the four-year salary for a president) and “pickings.” In the lead is Webster, who exclaims, “I can beat you both, and ‘walk in’ at that although you had a hundred yards the start of me!!” Denied the Whig nomination in June, Webster was later persuaded to run as an independent candidate. Directly behind Webster appears Whig nominee Winfield Scott, in military uniform. Scott says, “Confound Webster! what does he want to get right in my way for? if he don’t give out, or Pierce don’t faint I shall be beaten.” Democratic candidate Franklin Pierce trails both of them, yelling, “No! No! old Fuss and Feathers [Scott's nickname], you don’t catch this child fainting now. I’m going in to make good time! whether I win or not, Legs! do your duty.” Onlookers standing behind a fence in the background cheer the contestants on. Their comments include: “Go it Dan! put in the “big licks.” [In an exaggerated Irish brogue], “Arrah be Jabers! an is it ould Dannil, thats to . . . he’ll come out fore nint the whole o’thim.” “I'm fraid the Ex pounder is too old for such a severe race.” “Old! my dear fellow don’t you know that it is the Blood that tells, age dont matter I’d back old Dan against Lady Suffolk herself.” (Lady Suffolk was a premiere race horse of the day). “Scott ought to pass, he’s got a long Stride.” “Yes, but Dan . . . gathers well.” The cartoon must have originated between June 5, when Franklin Pierce won the Democratic nomination, and September, when Webster effectively retired an invalid to his estate at Marshfield.

10. The grand national fight 2 against 1 fought on the 6th of Nov. 1856 for one hundred thousand dollars. Library of Congress summary: The familiar metaphor of the presidential contest as a boxing match is invoked [for 1856]. The scene is set in an open field, roped off behind to make a ring. Republican candidate Fremont (right) squares off against Democrat James Buchanan (left), after the latter has felled American party nominee Millard Fillmore. Buchanan warns Fremont, “Look out now Young Mariposa for that hair on your face I will put in the “Right” when you least expect it!” Fremont replies, “Come to time, Old Buck, I think I can lick a Democrat as old again as you are!” Fremont steps over the fallen Fillmore, who says, “You see, Fremont, I’m down! There must be a good many drops of ‘Democrtic Blood’ in that arm of Old Buck’s to strike such a stunning blow!” Buchanan is seconded by an Irishman (far left) who comments, “By Jabbers but Old Bucky knocks ’em.” Fremont is supported by a Bowery type (crouching at far right) who urges him, “Go in wooly Hoss don’t be afeard.” The print was probably issued in summer 1856 or later in the election campaign, after Fillmore’s prospects for victory had dimmed.

11. A large woodcut proof for a campaign banner or poster for Millard Fillmore's 1856 candidacy for the America Party, or the Know-Nothings.

Number 10: John Tyler

Years in office: 1841-1845

Pre-service occupations: U.S. senator, governor (Virginia), vice president

Key events during his administration: annexation of Texas (1845), Florida admitted to the Union (1845), Webster-Ashburton Treaty (1842), Tyler (Pacific) Doctrine (1843), Treaty of Wangxia (1844)

Nicknames: His Accidency, the Acting President and the Vice President Acting as President

Presidential rating: Successful (but…) and largely unpopular

ESSAY

When President William Henry Harrison died on April 4, 1841, the country entered constitutional turmoil. What was supposed to happen? Would Vice President John Tyler now become president? Would a new election be held? Would Tyler merely be a caretaker president until the next scheduled election? It was new territory, and the country wasn’t sure what to do.

Fortunately for the country, John Tyler was certain, prepared and made sure that he—and he alone—was the president for the remainder of Harrison’s (now Tyler’s) term.

As the first man to assume the presidency after the president died in office, Tyler performed a service to the nation that cannot be undersold. If Adams and Jefferson established the peaceful transition of power between political enemies, Tyler established, or more correctly affirmed, the constitutional continuation of executive authority when the president dies in office.

Today, presidential succession is only thought about when a running mate is selected, but in 1841, many Whigs and Democrats did not recognize Tyler as president. Some members of congress wanted Tyler to be a figurehead while the secretary of state or even congress ran the executive branch. But Tyler would have none of it, and properly asserted his authority. Since 1841, power has transferred smoothly amid times of crisis eight times, thanks to Tyler. (* See note at bottom.)

Nowadays, Tyler is a forgotten president. If he’s remembered, it’s for what he did in 1841, the slogan “Tippecanoe and Tyler, Too,” or for the notion that he is the only “traitor” president because he was elected to the Confederate Congress. He’s also regarded as a failed president, which I believe is a crime of history.So, what of his presidency? How did the Virginian planter handle the affairs of the executive once the major crisis was solved?

A childhood among greatness

John Tyler spent his formative years among a who’s who of Virginian and early American politics. His own father, also named John, was a well-respected politician and early agitator against the slave trade (but not against slavery). Among the elder Tyler’s contemporaries were Jefferson, Madison and Bishop James Madison, onetime president of William and Mary College and something of a kingmaker in Virginia politics.

Young John absorbed much from these men, and he developed a keen sense of America’s destiny, which he shared in powerful oratory throughout his political career. Although Tyler never left the American seaboard—ever, in fact—he came to believe that America had a special destiny to fulfill. Being around such men as Bishop Madison and Jefferson helped hone that vision into a burning desire to take America to the far coast and beyond.

This vision would be codified as “manifest destiny,” and would be identified with Tyler’s presidential successor, James K. Polk, but I believe that Tyler deserves as much credit for the vision of American continental greatness as Polk and Jefferson.

America was destined for greatness, Tyler believed, and he would articulate this belief better than most politicians in the early republic. Whether as a Senator or Virginia’s governor, Tyler articulated a great America, a worldly America, a nation that led instead of followed. Biographer Edward P. Crapol marvels that Tyler appeared so worldly and cultured for a man who never once left the eastern seaboard.

Tyler explained his ideas for America in a visit to New York City in 1843:

“For how can the example of a democratic America be resisted? Do you not perceive that a light is breaking forth everywhere? That this same free America has already civilized a continent, which when we were boys was almost all in a wilderness state?” (Crapol, p.190)

A little flowery, sure, but he meant every word.Tyler also developed a strong sense of republicanism; and how could he not, considering his childhood heroes. But as president, he often betrayed his pure Jeffersonian republican ideals in favor of expanding executive power—even into areas that could justly be called unconstitutional—all in the name of securing America’s destiny.

The “accidental” president

When William Harrison died, Tyler got his chance—earlier than expected—to implement his ideals for American greatness. But Harrison’s sudden death and Tyler’s ascension to the presidency left Whigs very nervous—especially the number one Whig, Henry Clay. Kentucky’s favored son believed he should have gotten the nod in 1840, so he was not happy that the ex-Democrat Tyler was now president. Clay was mildly relieved that Tyler retained Harrison’s all-Whig cabinet, but was put on guard when Tyler announced that he would be no mere “cipher” for the Whig-controlled Congress and would pursue his own course and policies.

Clay’s worst fears were realized when Tyler vetoed key Whig legislation, including a new national bank. Whigs were so upset with Tyler that they expelled the president from the party in 1841, and most of the cabinet resigned that September except for Secretary of State Daniel Webster. Now he was not only an ex-Democrat, he was also an ex-Whig.

Tyler “came back” to the Democrats when he appointed John C. Calhoun as secretary of state to replace the dead Abel Upshur, who had replaced Webster after the latter resigned in 1843. The appointment of Calhoun, with his well-known defense of slavery and the South, helped further drive Whigs north and the base of Democrat power to the South.

Worse, many people in and out of politics never recognized Tyler as president, referring to him as “His Accidency” or “the Acting President” or even “The Vice President Acting as President.” Tyler would return unopened any mail, no matter how important, that failed to address him properly as president.

But President Tyler wasted no time in asserting his authority, however, and making his stamp on the national and international scene.

Slavery’s president

The chief hallmark of John Tyler’s presidency that most historians point to was his defense of slavery. John Tyler realized at a politically early age that slavery was a big problem; that it was, in Jefferson’s words, “a wolf held by the tail,” dangerous to hold but too dangerous to let go. Tyler wasn’t especially fond of slavery, but he accepted the “superiority” of white over Negro as the natural order, as did most whites back then.

As a U.S. senator, slave owner Tyler became ill at the sight of slaves dragged in chains and put on the auction block in the nation’s capitol. He promoted legislation to ban the practice in D.C., but it failed. Like his father, Tyler had a moral obtuseness concerning slavery: The slave trade—trafficking in humans—was despicable, but slavery itself was just hunky-dory.

Also as a U.S. senator, he became aware of just how delicate and troublesome slavery was when the nation experienced the first public convulsion over human bondage with the Missouri Compromise of 1820. Tyler, prescient that slavery could rend the nation, came up with a unique solution: Expand the nation by creating more slave states, thereby dispersing slavery over a much wider space. Slavery would then gradually die out as it did in the northern states. As ridiculous as this idea sounds, Tyler actually believed it could work, as it also fit in with his dreams of an America destined to stretch from coast to coast.

Defending America as a slaveholding republic became a cornerstone of his administration, which is one of the reasons why some historians tend to dismiss him as a failure and a sop to the Southern states.

No president defended slavery more than John Tyler. Although it was American policy to “defend” the institution of slavery on the foreign scene, Tyler did it stronger than anyone else.

Part of it has to do with his status as a Virginia slave owner. Although both he and his father looked askance at the slave trade, slavery itself was acceptable. To us, it’s a distinction with no difference. But to men such as Tyler, real equality between (white) men was maintained as long as slavery existed. (** See note at bottom.)

Mostly, however, his defense of slavery was wrapped in his belief in the Jefferson-Madison “extend the sphere” model of republicanism, where territorial expansion and the viability of the republic intertwined. Abolitionism posed a gigantic threat to this model of America’s destiny. Abolitionists detested Tyler probably more than any other antebellum president because he was a prominent and unapologetic slaveholder. Tyler returned their detest, for he viewed abolitionists as troublemakers who would rend the Union over slavery, thus denying the great nation its great destiny. Although he never went so far as Andrew Jackson did in fighting abolitionists (Jackson permitted Southern states to interfere with the U.S. mail by removing abolitionist literature), Tyler snubbed them and would not receive them at the White House.

In fact, part of Tyler’s Anglophobia, explained below, was tied to abolitionism. He believed that abolitionism was an English plot to disrupt the Union by attacking slavery, as evidenced by prominent English anti-slavery orators who came to America early in his term. It was a fanciful imagining at best, but it played into Tyler’s fears, and he used it to great effect to add to the anti-British sentiment during 1841-42.

Of course, like all early presidents, the glaring contradiction of America as a beacon of liberty while simultaneously being a slaveholding nation was never discussed in official channels, or even acknowledged. (This led to awkward situations, such as the refusal to recognize Haiti, another free republic, because it became a republic through a slave revolt. The United States would not recognize Haiti until 1862.)

Diplomatic “war” with England

As mentioned, Tyler was an Anglophobe. The term fits, because Tyler did fear English world domination. In the 1840s, as the saying goes, the sun never set on the English empire, and Tyler feared that the British were attempting to eke away at potential and real American holdings in Maine, the Pacific coast and rim, the Caribbean and even the republic of Texas. While his and secretary of state Webster’s Anglophobia was just a tad bit stretched, England was America’s chief antagonist, and there were several affairs with England that needed strong resolution, and fast.

War fever, or more correctly, a reluctant resignation that war with England was nigh, ruled in American politics during the first two years of his term. Although the prospects of a third war with the former mother country were not pleasant, Tyler and his Navy Department, under the highly capable Abel Upshur, used the scare to press Congress for modernization of America’s coastal defenses and Navy. Not all of Tyler’s and Upshur’s wish list was accepted, but the beginning of the transformation of the Navy from exclusively sail-powered to sail and steam-powered began under Tyler and Upshur, and they deserve much credit. (Upshur created the U.S. Naval Observatory and the regularization of the officer corps, including the introduction of the rank of rear admiral and admiral.)

Tensions with England were already high over the trial of a British citizen held in America. In a bold but curious move, President Tyler threatened to withhold British Ambassador Fox’s passport if the citizen was found guilty and until the matter was resolved. But the man was exonerated. Later, however, relations with England took a sharp turn downward when slaves revolted on the American ship Creole, murdered their master and sailed the ship to a British Caribbean protectorate. The British authorities there let the mutineers and the other captive slaves go free, much to the outrage of the South and joy of northern abolitionists. Coupled with the British sinking of the Caroline in Canadian waters during Van Buren’s term, continued occasional impressments and a few other “outrages,” the South turned to slave owner Tyler for swift justice.

It didn’t come fast enough, and subsequently Tyler’s stock fell in their eyes. Tyler seemed to vacillate, but he really wasn’t. Instead, he and Webster played a very crafty game of diplomacy with England. Secretary Webster and his counter-part, Lord Ashburton, hammered out an agreement during the hot summer of 1842 that came out quite favorable to the United States. England basically apologized for the attack on the Caroline, promised no repeated of the Creole affair, agreed on a mutually beneficial Maine-New Brunswick boundary, and understanding that impressments would finally stop, and also agreed to a joint cooperation to patrolling the shores off of Africa to stop slave traders. This last part surprised abolitionists, who had written Tyler off as an evil “imbecile.”

It was a huge diplomatic triumph for Tyler (and Webster) and although Tyler’s hotheadedness created some later misunderstandings on the wording, Tyler deserves much credit for blustering while seeking a peaceful resolution.The only point of contention not included in the Webster-Ashburton Treaty was the status of Oregon, which both nations jointly occupied. Tyler, in a brilliant bit of political chicanery, pulled Mexico and Britain into a scheme of land and money swapping that was designed to be rejected. (America would pay Mexico for two choice California ports, America would give Britain favorable land in Oregon in exchange for leaning on Mexico for the deal.) Tyler’s scheming was more designed to force England to the table again. It didn’t work out the way Tyler wanted, and the Oregon matter wasn’t solved until Polk’s term.

More manifest destiny—to the Pacific

All early presidents had their eyes focused westward, but none more than Tyler. His successor, James Polk, is usually the one most associated with manifest destiny because of the Mexican War and the fact that he added the most territory to the United States. But I believe the mantle jointly belongs to Tyler, and biographer Edward P. Crapol seems to agree.President Tyler gained two diplomatic triumphs that are long lost to history: recognition of the independence of Hawaii and the Tyler Doctrine, and the opening of China to American trade.

The Hawaiian Islands, then also known as the Sandwich Islands, became a Christian nation with a constitution, and the monarch, Kamehameha III, sent emissaries to Washington to seek recognition. The emissaries, William Richards, a Calvinist missionary, and Timoteo Haalilio, who was “almost as dark as an Ethiopian,” arrived in D.C. in 1842. Haalilio became the toast of D.C. But after several frustrating meetings with Webster, the two threatened to go to England first. That got them an audience with President Tyler, who authorized recognition of Hawaii—and what was accepted to be United States protection of Hawaii and the American missionaries there against foreign interference. In other words, Tyler extended the Monroe Doctrine to include Hawaii!

In the second instance, Tyler, at the prompting of American merchants, and fueled by the recent British success in the Opium War with China, sought a trade partnership with the Celestial Empire. In 1843, he and outgoing Secretary of State Webster sent a man named Cushing to China to open diplomatic and trade relations, with $40,000 authorized by Congress. Cushing proved to be a terrific choice, because he learned to be patient and respectful with his Chinese counterpart. In the end, Cushing secured a trade and ports deal with China that was better than what the British had won. The wisdom of seeking trade with China should not be dismissed, as exports to China (tobacco, cotton and grains) went from $9.5 million in 1845 to $22.5 million in 1860.

But sadly, Tyler received no credit for these moves. In fact, I was totally unaware of the “opening of China” to trade. As a schoolboy, I only heard of the “opening of Japan”—which, incidentally, Cushing sought to do, but Tyler’s administration ended before it could happen. But Tyler would later claim the “seeds” of opening Japan were planted in his term.

Domestic affairs, spies and impeachment

Much of President Tyler’s focus was on America’s borders and international sphere of influence, and with good reason. But when he turned to domestic affairs, he made a lot of people mad. The Whigs expelled Tyler from the party because he went against their agenda, chief of which was the recreation of the national bank. He vetoed the bank because he believed it went against states rights. He also declined to support the Whig Congress’ tariff, but two years later, did support a limited tariff for northern manufacturers, but Whigs gave him little credit.

Whigs were so upset with Tyler over his vetoes of the bank and tariff that they claimed that Tyler has “misused” the veto, which was a ridiculous charge. Instead, they were misusing the concept of impeachment. The first-ever articles of impeachment were drawn up in the House, but the attempt failed, as they never made it out of Rep. John Quincy Adams’ committee.

Still, the attempt stung. And why wouldn’t it? Tyler was being persecuted for not being a Whig. (Sounds a little familiar, doesn’t it?) However, if Congress had known what Tyler was doing with “secret service” funds, it might have been able to impeach him on something very tangible. President Tyler, when executing his foreign policy, often employed spies and special diplomats who operated in secret and were paid for out of a “secret service” executive fund. Tyler and Secretary of State Webster were, in fact, using federal funds to wage a secret propaganda campaign inside Maine to get its citizens to believe that they themselves were behind the impetuous for a peaceful resolution with England over the Maine-New Brunswick border. Why was this unconstitutional or border-line unconstitutional? Because of the money involved, and the fact that the executive branch was waging a covert propaganda campaign on Americans. But the issue never came to light while Tyler was president.

Tyler used spies and unofficial “ambassadors” in other capacities throughout his presidency, especially in England, and especially in the defense of slavery. One “General” Duff Green, with a bankroll of executive money, served as “slavery’s ambassador” to England, doing what he could to disrupt antislavery sentiments, much to the disgust of America’s actual minister to England.

He often stretched the Constitution in ways that he professed to abhor before he held the office. But once he held the reins of power, and had the opportunity to enact his vision of national destiny, he shoved aside his republican ideals in favor of the bigger goal.

Back on the domestic front, Tyler and Whigs did come to an interesting agreement on the purchase of land: Under the “log cabin” bill, which Tyler signed, a man could lay claim to 160 acres before it was offered publicly for sale, and then pay $1.25 an acre for it.But his stand on defending slavery naturally alienated abolitionist New England. Conversely, because Southern Democrats didn’t think he was doing enough to defend slavery, and because he had left the Democratic party, he was not their favorite man, either. So Tyler was a “man without a party.” “His Accidency” was scorned and disrespected from all sides, and was not popular.

Partially because of how he attained the presidency, Tyler abstained from making many changes to federal offices for two years. It was only when the bug to become president in his own right grew strong that Tyler began working on party building, but by 1843, it was largely too late in the game for that. Nevertheless, he did the usual purging of postmasters and other office-holders—another betrayal of his pure republican principles. He also commissioned a fawning biography of his life that he “urged” postmasters to buy and deliver.

But strangely enough, when Tyler made the one extended trip of his presidency outside of Washington and Virginia, he was treated as royalty. In Baltimore, Philadelphia and New York City, the Tyler party was feted in grander style than any other president had been. Tyler was canny enough to recognize that it probably wasn’t so much for him as it was for the office of the presidency, considering a presidential visit back then was still something extraordinary. Still, even abolitionist Boston treated him with respect, although the real toast of the town was Daniel Webster, just recently departed from the State department, in town as part of the massive 75th anniversary celebration of the Battle of Bunker Hill.

Regardless, Tyler took the outpouring as a good sign that he was on the road to re-election. And he would use Texas to seal the deal.

Texas, ho!

The Mexican War, in modern memory, is always associated with Tyler’s successor, James Polk. But President Tyler bears as much responsibility because, although Polk brought on the shooting war, Tyler made the final drive for the annexation of Texas. That act precipitated war with hapless Mexico, and Tyler knew full well that it would. I’m not trying to establish Tyler as a villain; rather to make sure that it’s understood that the Mexican-American War, which began in 1846, had its roots in Tyler’s administration.

America had long sought to acquire Texas. Some believed it was rightfully ours since the Louisiana Purchase. John Quincy Adams was blamed for “losing” Texas in the Adams-Onis Treaty back during Monroe’s administration. Jackson had his eye on Texas when his protégé, Sam Houston, won Texas’ independence in 1836. Jackson’s second protégé/mentor (a weird relationship), Martin Van Buren, demurred on annexing Texas. It finally fell to the ex-Democrat/ex-Whig Tyler to push through acquiring Texas for the Union, and he did so with relish.

Daniel Webster was no fan of annexing Texas, so Tyler actually put off the Texas matter until the issues with England were put to rest. After all, he and Webster formed a good team. But when it came time to pursue Texas, Tyler—and Webster—knew it was time for him to go.

His interim secretary of state, Hugh Legare, a longtime Tyler confidant and Texas advocate, died suddenly while the president was in Boston. The personal blow put a damper on Tyler’s re-election plans, and he ended the tour and did not head to Ohio and Michigan as planned. But he found another Texas/expansionist stalwart: the brilliant Navy secretary, Abel Upshur.Upshur entered into a secret negotiation with his Texas counterpart, over the objections of the English and Mexican foreign ministries, who believed (correctly) something was afoot. Mexico even said that if the United States were to annex Texas, war would result. Tyler and Upshur were not deterred.

Tyler allies in the Senate also gave brilliant speeches explaining why Texas’ annexation was not merely a sectional (e.g., slave power) matter, but one of national importance. One senator from Mississippi even gave the absurd argument that Texas would serve as a funnel for blacks to leave the country to Mexico and Central and South America, playing up on racial fears.

The well-liked and smooth Upshur secretly secured the necessary two-thirds votes in the Senate without Tyler’s arch-nemesis being aware of it. Texas seemed a little wary of the deal, though, having been burned once by the Van Buren administration. But at that point, annexation—and Tyler’s re-election—seemed assured.

Then tragedy struck. In February 1844, the day that Upshur’s counterpart agreed to annexation, Tyler, Upshur and several guests were cruising the Potomac on the USS Princeton, the Navy’s most advanced steamship. The recently widowed president, smitten with Senator David Gardiner’s daughter, Julia, lingered below deck with her to hear his song sing a song—which probably saved his life. A cannon misfired and exploded, killing Upshur, the secretary of the Navy, Senator Gardiner and several others.It was the worst calamity to befall any administration: two cabinet members killed, and a third dying mere months before. (One happy note: Tyler had gallantly rushed a fainted Julia from the scene, carrying her from the ship. Four months later, over the wagging tongues of gossips and bores, Tyler and Julia were married, and she stayed with him until his death 22 years later.)

In addition, without Upshur, Tyler’s Texas plans began to fall apart—and arguably ended his chance for re-election. Tyler tried pursuing another four years, but Tennessee’s James K. Polk, an up-and-coming star in the Democratic Party and a staunch disciple of Jackson, seemed to have a better chance at the Democratic nomination than Tyler—or Van Buren, who was making another run at it. (The Whig nomination for Tyler was, of course, out of the question, and it went to Clay.) Rather than engage in a bruising fight with Van Buren and Polk, who shared many of the same views as Tyler, the president decided that another four years just wasn’t going to happen, and he bowed out. But he continued to seek Texas.

Texas’ annexation played a large role in the campaign of 1844, and when pro-annexation James Polk won rather handily over Whig Clay and third party candidate Van Buren, President Tyler gained the impetuous he needed to ram legislation through Congress.

Tyler first submitted the annexation treaty to the Senate, but without Upshur it failed to gain the requisite two-thirds majority. Northern members worried at the potential disruption of the balance of power, and there was no way the new secretary of state, John C. Calhoun, would or could convince them otherwise. As many as four new slave states could be carved from Texas, it was argued. The president then turned to an unusual and unprecedented parliamentary trick: he sought a joint resolution from Congress that required only a simple majority. Was it constitutional? Some argued that it wasn’t, including old Albert Gallatin, Jefferson’ secretary of the Treasury, who had told Jefferson not to worry about the constitutionality of the Louisiana Purchase! But it passed rather handily over the loud objections of Whigs. Congress gave Tyler what he wanted, and annexation was proclaimed in Texas. Tyler himself was unable to officially welcome Texas into the Union as president, as the state did not come in until December 1845, nine months after he left office.

But the triumph was definitely his.

Post-presidency—traitor?

John Tyler left the White House in March 1845 on just about the highest note of any president: Texas was coming into the Union, and he had scored another triumph with the China treaty.

He retired to his Virginia plantation with Julia, returning briefly to Washington to defend Daniel Webster from corruption charges. (Webster was exonerated.) But the elder statesman and defender of states’ rights came back into the public light again in February 1861 to sponsor the Virginia Peace Convention, which sought a compromise to war. Tyler, who long sought to hold the Union together, advocated secession when Virginia rejected his suggestions. He then served in the provisional Confederate Congress and was elected to the formal Confederate Congress, but died in early 1862 before taking his seat.

For those reasons, he is considered a traitor—but no more of a traitor, I think, than Robert E. Lee and Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson, who are still highly revered among many people. (Is there something less honorable about being a political traitor than being a military traitor? I wonder.)

Final Assessment

How did the Virginian planter handle the affairs of the executive once the major crisis was solved? Better than expected, and better than he is given credit for.And in fact, John Tyler, for all his moral obtuseness, may be the most important of the “forgotten” presidents. After all, many successive presidents have evoked Tyler’s passion for America’s special and unique destiny, including Lincoln, Grant, Wilson, FDR, JFK, Reagan, and George W. Bush, who did so in his second inaugural in 2004.

Tyler used executive privilege in ways that were dangerously close to being flagrantly unconstitutional. Had they been known to Congress, he could have been rightly impeached for using “secret service” executive funds to meddle in state affairs and fund private spy operations.

Tyler often turned his back on his stated republican ideals in the name of expanding executive powers. Biographer Edward Crapol and noted historian Arthur Schlesinger argue that the imperial presidency, which began in Jackson’s term only to temporarily disappear, began anew in Tyler’s term, and there is a lot of truth to that:

“A number of President Tyler’s contemporaries thought his doctrine of executive power undermined the republican principles he formerly held so dear. For example, the editors of the prestigious and influential National Intelligencer, Joseph Gales and William W. Seaton, charged that Tyler’s executive actions violated the constitution because he assumed powers never intended to be employed by the chief executive. They claimed that the prerogative power that that Tyler exercised had no legal standing or constitutional standing. The editors were correct. John Tyler had come to embrace and champion the broad executive prerogatives he found so objectionable when wielded by his predecessors.” (Crapol, p. 281)

But overall, his vision for an America that spanned the continent and influenced commerce and trade well across the Pacific and around the world was powerful, and started to come to fruition at the very end of his term. President Tyler rarely gets credit for the many far-reaching diplomatic triumphs of his administration, and that’s a shame. Historians overlook just how influential Tyler was in his four years, and instead concentrate on his defense of slavery, his assumption of office, and his “traitor” status.

He’s usually ranked in the “below average” or “near failure,” around 35 of 44 presidencies. I strongly disagree. If I were ranking Tyler against the other presidents, I would place him “above average.” His diplomatic achievements alone place him far above many of the rest.

So, this is what I was getting at when I wrote above that Tyler was “Successful (but…)” True, he had a lot of achievements, but he often played too loose with the Constitution to achieve his goals. He was by no means a failure, though.

Final assessment: Successful (but…) and largely unpopular.

Resources

An excellent book is Edward P. Crapol’s John Tyler: The Accidental President (2006), which takes a more generous view of Tyler’s presidency than previous works. Also useful is The Presidencies of William Henry Harrison and John Tyler (1989) by Norma Lois Peterson, part of the University of Kansas’ American Presidency Series.

* Succeeding a president who died, was assassinated, or resigned were: Fillmore (Taylor), A. Johnson (Lincoln), Arthur (Garfield) T. Roosevelt (McKinley), Coolidge (Harding), Truman (F. Roosevelt), L. Johnson (Kennedy), and Ford (Nixon).

** I had a long talk with my wife about this. It’s actually, thankfully, very hard for someone like me to wrap my mind around such piffle. I understand on an intellectual level how someone could think themselves superior to another, and therefore be master and slave. But emotionally, I can’t. I don’t think it’s just because I’m Christian and I am a “slave” to the real Master, Jesus Christ. I think it’s because I came of age in post-Martin Luther King America, where that kind of raw racism is dying. It’s not dead, as race hustlers of all kinds try to keep it alive. But it is dying. And thank God.

Illustrations

All images are public domain and found in the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division unless otherwise noted.

1. Portrait of John Tyler

2. Official White House portrait of John Tyler (White House Historical Association)

3. Tyler Receiving the News of Harrison’s Death. Supposedly that is Daniel Webster’s son delivering the news to an already prepared John Tyler.

4. Wood carving of John Tyler created in 1841.

5. The very crafty and capable Daniel Webster served as Tyler’s secretary of state until 1843.

6. First Lady Letitia Christian Tyler, who died during Tyler’s term.

7. Texas in 1845. Rights for this map are found here.

8. Tyler’s second wife, Julia Gardiner Tyler, whom the president married in 1844, making Tyler the first president to marry in the White House. She outlived him by several decades; after Congress gave other presidential widows pension, she fought and won a pension for herself, despite her husband’s status as a “traitor.”

9. The elder statesman: a daguerreotype of John Tyler near the end of his life.