ALEXANDER CAMPBELL AND WATERGATE

Well, not exactly Watergate, but this account of one of Alexander Campbell’s visits to Washington will serve to show that human depravity has been at work in our nation’s capital for a long time.

I have recently noticed several references to the fact that Campbell had the rare experience of addressing both houses of Congress. Whether this is part of the nostalgia that is presumably sweeping the country, caused in part by a longing for an age of moral consciousness in these days of disillusionment, I know not. But this incident of speaking to Congress, along with the extravagant compliment paid Campbell by former president James Madison to the effect that if he should choose one person to represent the human race on a distant planet it would be the reformer from Bethany, are two of the better known incidents in his life.

The purpose here is to tell the story of that visit before Congress and to draw some parallels between the situation then and now.

It was a Sunday morning, June 2, 1850. Uncle Alex had gone east to visit congregations in Baltimore and Washington. He had long promised the saints in Baltimore that he would give them a week of “lectures” (he never called this kind of work preaching) if and when they built a commodious building. Now that they had a house that would seat upwards of 800, still a rarity within the Movement, he went there to fill it to capacity, which he did. He hailed the building as “an architectural gem,” and was quick to contrast its simple elegance with the ecclesiastical magnificence of the eastern religious establishment which prided itself on choirs and organs. The Movement did not yet have a congregation with an organ, not quite!

He summarized his week’s work in Baltimore with at least one unfamiliar reference: “Some demons were dispossessed, some Christians were edified, a few penitents were baptized, and all the Christians present were happy.”

It was while in Baltimore that “a very pressing invitation” came for him to address a joint session of Congress. In response to this he took “the cars” to Washington, accompanied by about 20 brothers and sisters who came along for the big event. He arranged for two hours of meditation in a private home before proceeding to the house chamber. When he arrived he found the chamber overflowing with representatives and senators with their families, along with many citizens of the community. There was a hymn and a prayer, and he was introduced by Rep. Phelps of Missouri.

What was the moral and political climate in the capital in the summer of 1850? The big issue was annexation of new land, and this was big because it was tied to the slavery question. Texas had become the 28th state only five years before, but only after bitter quarreling. Henry Clay had lost the presidency almost certainly because of his opposition to admitting Texas or any other western territory, for he was convinced that they would be slave states and would encourage further importation of slaves. As New Mexico and California became territories, it was only with Clay’s and other Whigs’ protests, and their efforts to write in anti-slavery clauses failed. The nation obviously wanted everything between the two great oceans, and the moral climate was such that the people were willing for their leaders to do most anything to get it.

Henry Clay, you will remember, presided over the Campbell-Rice debate in 1843, and in 1847, when Campbell left for Europe, he voluntarily sent along a letter introducing him to dignitaries. Clay served in both houses of Congress, was Secretary of State under John Quincy Adams, and ran for President three times, missing it once by only 39,000 votes. In Washington he was known as “the Great Pacificator” in that he did things like negotiate a peaceful settlement with South Carolina in 1832 when that state was on the verge of starting a civil war, and for authoring the Missouri Compromise in 1820, which allowed that state to enter the union as a slave state on the grounds that all other states entering the union above that latitude would be free forever, a move that eased tensions between North and South. At the time of Campbell’s visit, Clay was surely sitting there as a senator, having only two years before been rejected by the Whig party as the presidential nominee, though he was the obvious party leader. But Gen. Zachary Taylor was a man of war, having been sent by President Polk into Texas and Mexico to “persuade” the Mexicans to sell us all their land between Texas and California, and it was understood that he was to spill blood, if necessary, to achieve his purpose.

Since the Whigs figured that the nation wanted expansion and annexation, even if that meant both slavery and war, they passed by the most qualified man and gave the nomination to General Taylor. It was not the hour for a man of peace like Clay, if it ever is. Taylor had a “clean” political record, for at the time of his nomination he had never voted in his life! He was also a southerner who owned 300 slaves. No one knew his political beliefs, probably because he had none; but he was a war hero, a dubious war though it was. Not only was Henry Clay bypassed, but the fortunes of greats like Daniel Webster fared no better.

Had Uncle Alex gone before Congress just one year earlier, one Abraham Lincoln would probably have been in the audience, for he served in the House from 1847-49. It was he who stood in the chamber aisle and challenged President Polk, who was asking Congress to declare war on Mexico. Polk was claiming that American soldiers had been attacked and so he was asking for blood. Lincoln insisted that the President name the exact spot on which American blood had been shed. But the President wanted his war, as did much of the nation, and he got it. Despite warnings from the leaders of both parties to exercise restraint and wait at least until the Mexicans committed a definite act of hostility, he pressed his case, saying that “the cup of forbearance has been exhausted,” and got the declaration of war that made Gen. Taylor a hero by the slaughter of Mexicans.

But James Polk holds claims to fame other than warmongering. A governor of Tennessee, he was something of a protégée of “Old Hickory,” and was himself dubbed “Young Hickory.” Gen. Jackson was now the older statesman of the Democratic party, now retired to the Hermitage, but still active enough to campaign for the annexation of Texas on pro-slavery basis. When Jim Polk showed signs of being able to make it to the White House, Old Hickory insisted that he should marry Sarah Childress, one of his girl friends, so as to put an end to his lady-chasing activities. And he chose the right one for a Machiavellian prince, for she was very pious, not even allowing intoxicating beverages to be served at White House affairs. And she was probably as kind as she was exacting with Polk’s slaves. When one of the President’s own party wanted to write into any annexation bill a proviso that in the new territory “neither slavery nor involuntary servitude shall ever exist,” Polk angrily retorted that such an amendment would be foolish and mischievous.

Feelings ran Watergate-deep in those days between the Whigs and Democrats, quarreling as they were about tariff, annexation, slavery and all the rest. While Polk was still in the House serving as Speaker, the bitterness sometimes became so rife that there were outbreaks of vile cursing. Even the normally peaceful Henry Clay came over from the Senate one day, and shouted at Speaker Polk from the gallery, crying out, “Go home, --- ---you! Go home where you belong!” (expletives deleted). Later back at Ashland in Kentucky when Clay heard that Polk had received the Democratic nomination he cursed in utter horror.

But Polk erred at one point as a Machiavellian statesman. He made a hero out of Gen. Taylor, who belonged to the opposite party, a hazard that the Italian philosopher pointed to with due assiduity. Polk knew better, and he tried to keep the Mexican War big enough to serve his expansionist intentions but small enough not to produce any substantial heroes. And so, unwittingly, he created the next President.

These events bring us to 1850. General Zachary Taylor was in the White House at the time of Campbell’s visit, but not for long, for he died only a few weeks afterwards, which was probably a blessing to the nation, for he was hardly qualified to preside over a nation that was coming apart at the seams. Millard Fillmore took office and almost immediately signed into law bills that Zachary opposed, thus postponing for a decade one of the bloodiest civil wars in world history.

Campbell’s visit in June of 1850 came at midway point of the most intense and dramatic debate in congressional history, featuring the skill and oratory of Clay, Calhoun and Webster. Slavery had now overshadowed all other issues and dissension between North and South had reached frightening proportions. Texas was now part of the union as a slave state, and the South and the expansionists wanted all additional territories to be slave also. Only Oregon had been organized as a territory without slavery. No decision had been made about the great expanses of New Mexico, California, and Utah. The North insisted that all new territories be free; the South contended that slaves were property with constitutional protection.

The debate was so bitter and impossible as to defy description. Many compromises were put forth, such as drawing a line both ways, east and west, from Missouri to both oceans, declaring all north of the line free and all south slave. Another was to allow each new territory to decide for itself. Nothing worked.

It was the wisdom and oratory of Campbell’s friend, Henry Clay, assisted by Calhoun and Webster, that saved the nation from collapse, at least temporarily, by pleading for a compromise plan that was eventually accepted. These men held the nation spellbound by their oratory. All three were to die within the next year or so, but it was those last flickers of the fire that burned so brightly in their souls that brought hope to a dying nation. Calhoun was too ill to speak himself, so his words were read, pleading with the North to be less agitating. It was on March 6 that Daniel Webster gave that famous speech in which he pled for the preservation of the union. A dying man, his magnificent voice was now abated, and yet he said with such splendor, “Peaceable secession is an utter impossibility.”

The debate was still raging when the President died in July. A peaceful compromise was finally signed in September. Half way through the debate, in June, it was this Congress that sent an urgent appeal to the man of God from Bethany, one known to many of them for his part in the Virginia Constitutional Convention of 1829, to address both houses on a Lord’s Day morning.

On that beautiful Sunday morning, while some cherry blossoms were still in bloom, Alexander Campbell stood before the nation’s lawmakers in the most perilous hour in the nation’s history. It would have made Watergate look like a mock trial at Yale Law School. But what he said on that occasion might well be seen in the light of what he would say to our nation today. And you can be assured that Alexander Campbell, acutely aware of the political situation in his day, knew exactly what was going on in Washington on June 2, 1850. He had understood the invitation to be urgent. He hastened to the capital from Baltimore early enough to go to the home of a brother Tingle for two hours of prayer, and then to the House chamber. He had been with his Lord and he was ready.

Reading almost certainly from his own Living Oracles, he began: “For God has so loved the world, as to give his only begotten Son, that whosoever believes on him may not perish, but obtain eternal life. For God has sent his Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world may be saved.”

For 90 minutes he spoke on his favorite subject, the Divine Philanthropy, beginning with creation and outlining what God has done for man all the way to redemption in Christ. He discounted patriotism and political friendships as expressions of that benevolence, and called upon his audience to look to that providence that bestows a divine legislation. He pled for Christian morality.

He later described his ‘audience as attentive and absorbed as any he had recently addressed, and he spoke of the legislators as “some of the greatest statesmen of the world.”

Leaving the elegance and grandeur of the House chamber, Alex went across town to a meeting with a small band of disciples in an upper room, in company of several congressmen. He was impressed to find there the wife of the congressman that had introduced him to the lawmakers. “This excellent lady, unlike some other ladies of illustrious rank that visit Washington during the winter, is not ashamed to meet with the little flock in some upper room, and to participate with them the honors and blessings of the family of our exalted Lord,” he wrote later in the Millennial Harbinger. And the joy he found in this little congregation pleased him, for though small and obscure they were happy to honor the holy ordinances on the Lord’s day and to edify one another in love.

Now Uncle Alex stood before this small group of saints and spoke of the Lord’s day and the Lord’s family, wonderfully enjoying himself. In a matter of hours he moved from the eloquence of the halls of Congress to the humble sharing of saints in an upper room beyond the tracks. As Socrates would put it, in weighing the alternative of life and death, “and only God knows which is better.”

That is part of the story of “Watergate” in Washington in the middle of the last century. And Alexander Campbell was there in the midst of profane, adulterous, divisive, wrangling, cursing, inept, warmongering, deceptive politicians, along with the wisdom and eloquence of the great men of the day. Same old sins, same old human nature. There is nothing new under the sun, not even Watergates.

And the church’s message must always be the same, God’s love sitting in judgment over human carnality. God so loved the world that he gave. . . The divine philanthropy! Such is our message to a nation that forgets God. And wherever there is a Watergate there is almost certainly the Body of Christ, however humble and obscure. On that remarkable June day in 1850 Alexander Campbell found both, and he found God in them both. From darkness to light, and all those who want light can and will find their way.—the Editor